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#they came home from work 4 hours before midnight on my birthday and the only difference was we had cake after dinner because it was my
waltwhitmansbeard · 1 year
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Hewo <3
From the trust prompt list: remembering tiny things about the other.
May I ask for Vaxleth in MFL? You're the best 🥺👉👈
4. remembering tiny things about the other read what came before this.
turned my water into wine #33
Vax makes no secret of the fact that he is obsessed with his wife. His sister teases him about it, his encyclopedic cataloguing of every aspect of her personality, all of her whims and wants and fears and quirks. He fancies himself something of an expert in the subject of Keyleth, and it is both a point of pride and his way of making sure she is never unaware of exactly how much he adores her.
It is easy, then, for him to forget that she, too, has spent an inordinate amount of time with him, countless nights in hushed conversation behind a locked door, whiling away the midnight hours as they peeled apart each other's layers, both literal and metaphorical. At this point, over two years in, with a house and a baby and a ring on their hands, she knows him better than anyone does—even Vex, though she'd rend him limb from limb if he suggested such blasphemy in her presence—but he always forgets, always lets himself believe that he is the only one who notices, who remembers.
Which is why when he comes home on a night, head rattling with gods and prayers and the sobs of the grieving, he is surprised to find a bouquet of snowdrops, a cloud of white in a little glass vase, on their tiny dining table. He stops in the doorway, mind whirring in an attempt to remember if he's forgotten any important date—not her birthday, not his, not their anniversary—but before he can figure it out, there's a shriek of a giggle from the nursery, followed by his favorite laugh in the world and a quiet, "Don't think you can grin your way out of this one, baby bird."
Leaving the flowers, Vax crosses over to Vilya's bedroom door, leaning against the frame to watch his wife wrangle their wriggly-armed infant into her swaddle. Vilya seems largely uninterested in the effort, instead cooing loudly as one hand swings up, nearly knocking a fist right into Keyleth's face.
She just ducks out of the way and laughs again. "I'm blaming your Auntie Vex for that one." It's only then that Keyleth notices the presence in the doorway. "You're home!"
Oh, how her smile could melt the iciest of hearts. "What a thing to come home to."
She pouts. "You could help, you know."
"Please, I'm watching a master at work."
She rolls her eyes, but it takes her only a minute more get Vilya all wrapped up. She scoops her up and plops her right into Vax's arms. "Take your demon child. I've got to get dinner started."
Vax happily presses kisses all over his demon child's face, grinning from ear to ear as she cackles in delight. "And what is our culinary adventure tonight?"
Keyleth is pulling ingredients out from a large basket on the counter. "I'm trying my hand at that sausage stew Nel made two weekends ago. I figure it's mostly letting things boil together for a while, so I shouldn't make too big a mess of things."
Vax would eat poison if she gave it to him, but he figures that is not the most encouraging thing to say. "I'm sure it'll be wonderful."
"I hope so." She starts listing out the ingredients to make sure she has everything, and Vax is only half-listening, but as Keyleth starts to chop up the vegetables, he asks, "Hang on, did you say zucchini?"
Keyleth hums in assent. "What about it?"
"There was no zucchini in Nel's stew."
"Oh, well I'm replacing the asparagus."
"Why's that?"
"Because you didn't like it."
He blinks. He'd said no such thing. "How...?"
She shoots him a look over her shoulder. "You didn't eat any of it. And when you went back for seconds, I saw you carefully ladle your bowl so there weren't any spears in it. So I picked zucchini because I know you like it better."
For a moment, Vax forgets about the cooing baby in her arms, thoughts immediately consumed with taking his wife by the waist and pulling her away from her work and into the bedroom. But then he remembers himself, walks up behind her, and kisses her on the cheek instead. "You are something magical, you know that?"
She scoffs. "Magical? I need not wield my mysterious powers in order to see, Vax."
"And the flowers?"
The apples of her cheeks turn the color of sunset. "Well, yes. Those are your favorite."
"That they are."
"And I'd heard you were having a rough day."
"That I was."
"And I love you."
The way his heart swoops, low then high, circling around his chest like a bird in flight. "That you do." He shifts Vilya into one arm so that he can take the other hand, bring Keyleth's face around so that he may capture her lips in a kiss. "What can a man do to deserve a woman like you?" he murmurs against her mouth, parted and kiss-swollen.
"You can start by letting me chop the damn vegetables," she whispers back, and he throws his head back in a laugh. He acquiesces, getting out of her way with Vilya in his arms. He heads for the sofa, but stops on the way to dip down and bury his nose in the snowdrop bouquet. They smell of Byroden, of a little hut of wood and stone, of his mother's soap, of the sun, of Zephrah, of his wife's clothes, of home.
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Here to Misbehave (Pt. 23 | S.R.)
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Series Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Finale |
Summary: Spencer’s birthday plans get interrupted by a case. Frustrated by Reader’s busy schedule, Spencer finds a unique way to spend time with her. Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Mild exhibitionism, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, Dom/sub, light choking, degradation/praise, sub space Word Count: 7.3k
MASTERLIST
—————————————————
Waiting for Spencer Reid was an interesting position to be in. It was also, unfortunately, very, very common. You would think the IQ points would translate to efficiency, but you’d be very wrong. The only thing that boy does fast is read, and even that didn’t follow through to text messages, considering he’d read none of the six I’d sent him in the past hour.
So, naturally, as one does in an emergency, I called him. Unsurprisingly, the phone barely rang a second time before he picked up. Talking was, as we were both aware, his forte. Without even waiting for my greeting, his groggy voice came through the receiver with a song-like sound.
“Hello, little girl.”
But it wasn’t his turn to sing, and he knew damn well why I was calling. I could hear the smirk on his face so well that I could also envision exactly what he looked like in that moment, with his fluffy hair sticking up from constantly running his hands through it and his eyes only half-open as he tried to finish reading whatever horrible thing that he had in front of him.
It wasn’t how anyone should be spending their birthday. Especially not him. There wasn’t really anything I could do about it, though that didn’t make it any easier to hear the exhaustion and sadness behind that scratchy voice.
“What’re you doing up late? It’s past your bedtime, you know,” he chastised before I even had a chance to speak. He wasn’t wrong — It was 3AM where I was. But where he was, it’d just hit midnight.
“I just wanted to wish a happy birthday to my favorite old man,” I purred back once I’d managed to calm my fast-beating heart. I wondered if I’d ever get used to the brief rush of adrenaline and relief when I heard his voice for the first time after some time away.
I hoped not.
Spencer didn’t seem impressed by my reasoning, though. “You’re sweet. Go to sleep.”
“You’re up, too,” I whined, still picturing the way he would undoubtedly pull the phone further away to lessen the noise. I almost asked if he was also picturing me but stopped when I realized that whatever he had in mind was probably a lot more exciting than reality. Then again, he often told me that moments like this were his favorite. When we’re both too tired to keep our eyes open but too happy to be with each other to let them close all the way.
“Barely,” he corrected.
“Besides, I had to stay up. It’s your birthday.”
I’d meant to lift his spirits, but the long pause after I finished made it evident that my efforts were for naught. He almost seemed even more upset than when he’d answered, and I tried to convince myself that it had nothing to do with me. It wasn’t that hard, considering he was probably staring at images or words of dead people.
“Yeah, sure feels like it.”
His tone alone ensured me it was worse than my imagination.
“Put your work down and pay attention to me instead,” I suggested as softly as I could with the neediness bleeding through, “That’s the first part of your present.”
“You’re my present?” he asked through a gruff laugh that made my heart skip a beat, “I like that present.”
He was trying. I could feel it in his voice, and I wished more than anything that I could teleport to where he was and hold him until it was too difficult for his mouth to form a frown.
“You already have me. That’d be like regifting,” I pointed out with only a pinch of self-deprecation. It was still too much for Spencer, though, who swiftly shot back the ever cheesy, “Every day with you is a gift.”
“Gross, don’t get all sentimental with me,” I ordered playfully.
He returned the energy with all the sass I always knew he was capable of. Once his whining ceased, he mumbled, “Do you come with a gift receipt?”
“No returns or exchanges allowed, I’m afraid.”
Spencer just let out a strained sigh, and in my head, I imagined how it would feel to climb onto his lap as he leaned back in his chair. I could almost feel his arms wrapping around my waist and his lips peppering kisses wherever he could reach. I could feel his love for me flowing across the country, persisting past the cell tower obstacles to make its way back to me.
“I can’t wait to see you again,” he whispered, his first purely sincere statement of the night.
It was an unfortunate choice, too, because it also reminded me of the biggest bummer that I unfortunately had to share.
“Oh, I meant to tell you, it’s midterm season, so…”
He was, thankfully, not as bummed as I was expecting. He was almost certainly thrilled to have a chance to sleep spread out on his bed without having to satisfy the very needy girl beside him, but he still managed to come up with enough bratty energy to scoff, “Are you telling me that I don’t get my gift when I get home?”
“It’ll just be a few days. Promise,” I spoke through the biggest, cheesiest smile I’d had yet. “You’re very distracting, Dr. Reid.”
“When are your exams?” His enthusiasm gave away just how disappointed he was with the news, but any frustration was clearly aimed at my poor professors.
“My last one is on Wednesday.”
The gasp that left him was too funny not to laugh, followed by exasperated, blubbered nonsense that didn’t ever get much clearer. I barely managed to understand him when he cried, “Don’t they know Halloween should be a national holiday?!”
“You should call my professors and yell at them.”
He actually considered it for a moment, but then returned the same silly intonation, “Maybe I will.”  
“Do it. You’re probably more qualified than them to teach me, anyway.”
After a short silence that was filled with more sexual tension than I’d expected considering how the phone call started, I heard Spencer gruffly comment, “You’re a cocky little brat tonight.”
It was so familiar to me that I jumped on the opportunity, giggling through my sleep deprived delirium, “I’m in rare form for your birthday.”
The explanation earned me a chuckle, but not much else. At least, not that I could see. The static on the other end of the phone sounded a lot like the way it looked when Spencer leaned his face against his palm and tried to see something that wasn’t there.
But I was there. Sort of. We’d done a lot more with a lot less, after all. So, that’s what I offered him.
“You know… we could have a redo of the last time I called you late at night on a case.”
“That did not end well for me last time,” he droned. I tried not to laugh at the manufactured memory of Spencer holed up in a hotel bathroom because he just had to have me in whatever way he could.
“Only happy endings for your birthday. I promise.”
But then, as it always did, work got in the way. Filled with only the greatest sadness and regret, Spencer quietly but honestly replied, “As much as I would love to, I don’t think it’ll be possible on this case.”
“Is it that bad?”
“Unfortunately.”
I bit my lip because there was nothing I could do. I couldn’t help Spencer with his work any more than I could fix the distance. All I could offer him was a safe home to return to. He would always find that with me.
“Well, in that case, I will be equipped with cartoons and kisses upon your return,” I offered with grace.
But I wasn’t the only one in rare form. Without skipping a beat, Spencer corrected with a smug sadness, “You mean your return. Considering you’re abandoning me on my birthday.”  
“Oh my god, the drama!” I cried before remembering that it was, still, in fact, 3AM. The light grimace I gave after remembering would be the only apology my neighbors would get from me. I was too busy building a narrative happy enough to drown out the horrors in front of him. “You’d think I was the one who was away all the time.”
“I’m allowed to be selfish; it’s my birthday,” he sang, and I soaked in the sound, storing it away for any rainy days.
“Fine. What do you want, brat?” I asked in the worst attempt at an impression I’d ever given.
He was just waiting for the question. Drawing out the first couple of syllables, he laughed through the stupidest birthday wish of all time.
“I want… you to go to bed.”
“Ugh!” I yelled again, not even bothering to feel bad about it that time. My exasperation fell on deaf ears, both from a willful desire to ignore my suffering and a literal ringing from the constant yelling.
Still, that impossible man drummed up enough compassion to gloat with a simple, “I love you.”
“I love you, too, jerk,” I grumbled, only to be swiftly corrected with a playful, “Try that again.”
“I love you, too, old man.”
He was satisfied enough with that answer, despite the sarcasm dripping from it. He still knew that the words were true, and that was all that mattered. Any punishments that might be necessary for my broken promise to behave for his birthday could always be doled out later. When the distance between us was narrowed to inches and clothes could be removed like cheap wrapping paper.
“Thank you, little girl. Sweet dreams,” he whispered, reminding me once more of just how empty my bed felt without him. I stared at his pillow for just one second before I threw myself into it. He chuckled at the sound of rustling sheets over the receiver but said nothing else.  
“You get some sleep tonight, too, okay?” I asked, uncharacteristically and openly vulnerable in a way that used to scare me.
Spencer’s voice was filled with pride and love as he answered, “You can’t see it, but I am giving you a pinky promise.”
“Good.” Burying my face in his pillow again made it easier to remember that it wouldn’t be forever when I said, “Bye, Spencer.”
“Goodnight, little girl.”
—————————————————
Autumn on campus felt pretty similar to the rest of the year. I wished that it were different, a little more exciting, to reflect how I felt about the impending holiday. But no, it was just students stumbling into their usual classes and hectically scheduled midterms with hangovers and a total lack of holiday cheer.
It was, in a few words, a complete bummer. The only thing that kept me going through the last of my exams was the knowledge that I’d be seeing Spencer. Unfortunately, he was still doing that rather annoying thing where he refused to answer my text messages. It wasn’t until he ignored even my most ridiculous threats that I realized something was going on.
The ‘Read’ notification sat menacingly on my screen, and I was so fixated on it that I almost didn’t notice the familiar mop of brown curls visible in the front row of the auditorium. But once I saw it, the phone was forgotten faster than ever before. I ran down the steps at a ridiculously dangerous pace, dodging the others still grumbling from their previous exams.
I landed in front of him with only enough breath left to sneer, “You’re in my seat.”
“Surprise,” he said with my favorite smug, self-assured smile.
“Adorable. Now move,” I ordered with a wave of my hand. As much as I loved the guy, I wasn’t about to change my seating arrangement for him. It was beginning to make sense, though, why my friend told me that she wouldn’t be sitting with me today.
“Fine,” he sighed, taking his sweet time moving seats and watching me happily bounce on my feet in the meantime. I snuck behind him into the seat before he’d even fully stood up. That little amount of friction between our bodies seemed to be enough to cause the tension to mount. It’d only been seconds, but I was already seriously considering abandoning the class. To hell with the professor who’d already seen me.
But Spencer’s eyes locked on mine, and he leaned onto the armrest with that same silly smirk.  
“It’s a workday, Dr. Reid,” I whispered, forcing my arm next to his and watching the way his pupils grew as I came closer.
“I might have pulled a few strings,” he replied just as quietly, keeping the illusion of secrecy despite many prying eyes around us, “Might’ve told Hotch I was invited.”
“But you weren’t,” I snorted.
Spencer’s head hung in just a little bit of shame, but his wide smile never waned. It was still there, bright and pure in its simplicity as he softly admitted, “Yeah. I lied. But I’m here now.”
There were no complaints about that fact, either. His pinky reached out to mine, twining together in the dim light of the auditorium. Somehow, for a brief second, I forgot about everything else. The noisy chatter meant nothing to me, the two of us lost in some alternate pocket universe that felt safe and warm from the cold air outside.
But time resumed, and I watched as Spencer took his eyes off of me first, turning instead to the lecturer watching us with a knowing glint in his eyes.
“Good morning everyone! We have a special guest with us today.”
I wanted to pay attention to his little introduction, but I couldn’t. Every word that was said about him sounded so clinical. It felt so empty compared to the truth I knew about him. He was so much more than a collection of publications and PhDs.
He was… indescribable. Even as his mouth formed a flat line and his awkward handshake was granted to the crowds of disinterested students, all I saw was the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. Even if it was only from the shadows of his greatness. Then again, I don’t think he’d ever let me feel that way.
Speaking of…
"Dr. Reid, the only thing I ask is for you to give these wonderful students a chance to show you what they know,” my professor started with a laugh before he so kindly continued, “So go easy on them." 
In any other situation, I might have let it slide. I would have accepted the fact that Spencer was far beyond my intellect and not stand up for myself. But this time, Spencer was on my turf.
"All due respect to Dr. Reid, I don't think he needs to go easy on us,” I called from the front row, only audible to the other dutiful students that cared enough to sit up front. I heard Spencer laugh beside me, shaking his head just a little bit at the challenge. He didn’t say anything though, and I returned my eyes to the professor who was already familiar with my antics as I boasted, "At least not on me." 
While Spencer caught on to the fairly obvious double entendre, shifting his crossed legs closer, the professor just wrote it off as my usual academic pride.
“I did try to warn you that that one might get competitive,” he commented. At this point, everyone had definitely figured out my relation to the man next to me. It was kind of hard to hide a bullet wound from your school. But again, I was so caught up in the man beside me that I didn’t even feel a little shame at their playful teasing.
Spencer’s commentary was the only thing that mattered, and he gave it with a dreamy sigh. "I'm not offended at all. I'm sure she's very clever." 
The little bit of light left in the room started to fade, and once I was shrouded by the shadows, I felt confident enough in my plan to dig through the bag at my feet to pull out probably the nerdiest item in it.
A fucking back-up clicker. Which, I promptly handed to the man beside me.
“You’re in seat B4,” I whispered gruffly, earning yet another snarky chuckle from my boyfriend.
“Is that a challenge?”
I didn’t answer. Not him, anyway. What I did answer was the question that had appeared on the screen.
“Ms. (Y/n)?” My professor called, recognizing my seat number without even looking up.
Luckily for me, today was nothing but a review day of the midterm I’d already taken. While I knew all of the questions and, what I’d hoped were the right answers, Spencer had to read the questions from scratch. Really, it didn’t give me an edge. It just put us on equal playing ground.
As I gave my answer, I watched in my peripherals as Spencer’s eyes narrowed and tongue peeked out from lips that I still hadn’t gotten the chance to kiss today.
It was a bad thing to think about, because my brief reverie of the things that mouth was capable of reminded me of another one. I didn’t even notice another question had appeared on the screen, and when I heard the familiar buzz of an attempted answer, I shared my Professor’s temporary confusion.
“Ah, Dr. Reid,” he laughed, probably already regretting welcoming the bastard here, “Please explain the answer.”
But there was another thing working in my favor: My boyfriend’s giant fucking ego. Really, it should be impossible that someone who was normally super insecure could enjoy showing off as much as he did. My professor didn’t mind, because Spencer’s long-winded answer was a wonderful review of… basically the entire course, and I didn’t mind because it granted me the one thing I needed.
Time. Time to slowly remove my jacket and reveal the sweater underneath. Spencer’s eyes caught the motion, glancing over only a couple of times while he managed to give his answer. It wasn’t until I started to remove the sweater that he cut his answer short.
His throat clearing told me he wanted my attention, but I was still just too distracted for him. I fanned my chest that felt warm for reasons other than the temperature of the room, guaranteeing his eyes would stay there long enough for me to catch the next question before he had a chance.
Or so I thought. Because before the question appeared, I made the positively stupid mistake of meeting his gaze. As soon as I did, my mind was stuck there, drowning in molasses and honey and—
“Dr. Reid, please feel free to continue to do my job for me. Lord knows I would love a break,” the professor joked, and I almost felt guilty for just how genuine he sounded. Not like Spencer would have noticed passive aggression if it existed.
Not like either of us would have cared. Per usual, we were so lost in the space of B4 and B5 that we didn’t care about the rest of the alphabet. All we cared about was winning. It was growing more and more obvious to me, though, that I would have to become a little more ruthless if I wanted to bring down the bona fide genius.  
The sound of his voice rang through the auditorium loud, clear, and confident. He didn’t need to worry if he was right or not, because he knew he was. The smugness was grating to my ears. I knew I couldn’t trick him into making a mistake, but there was one thing I could do.
I’d learned one thing very well in my time with Spencer, and that was how to manipulate that pretty little voice of his.
For example, if I wanted to hear it catch in his throat and come out a few pitches higher, all I would have to do is touch him. The riskier the touch, the higher his voice would go. Which was why I spread out the jacket over my lap, making sure that our legs were close enough that it covered him, too. Then I waited, calmly and kindly listening to him drone along until there was a natural enough inflection to hide evidence of any nefarious actions. Just as his voice started to rise, I slid my hand over his knee.
Spencer barely stuttered, just enough for me to know he was affected, but not enough for anyone else to notice. He took the loss with grace, quickly ending his answer with a summary that contained only half as many words as he would have normally provided.
He kept a few for me.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he hissed, shifting close enough to me that I could feel his breath on my ear.
“All’s fair in love and war,” I hummed. His breath caught again when I began stroking my thumb over his leg that had just started to bounce.
“This is wildly inappropriate.”
“How perceptive,” I returned with my own little smirk. The interaction caught us both, trapping us in the alternate dimension that existed when we held each other. His hand found its way to mine, and his thumb brushed over the back and sent goosebumps shooting over my skin.
I’d practically abandoned our pursuits altogether when I heard my friend’s voice as she took the question that we’d both missed. I should’ve been upset for losing after all that I’d gone through for my strategy to succeed, but it was hard to feel anything other than butterflies when Spencer was still looking at me like that.  
Even when I looked away, he stayed, patiently waiting for me to take the final question in the review. I granted him a chance to take it, but he just shook his head, implicitly asking me to take the win for the both of us. Even when we were competing, we were always on the same team.
There were no more distractions as I explained the answer as simply as I could. I was positive the rest of the class was tired of hearing our voices, but Spencer never stopped smiling. I could feel the pride rolling off of him, his hand growing tighter around mine as he took in a deep breath.
“Very good, (y/n),” my professor announced, signaling the end and initiating a large sigh of relief from everyone else.
Spencer sighed too, although his was with a different kind of relief; a dreamy, soft sound as he muttered under his breath, “Just like I said. Very clever.”
The air felt positively electric, and I never hated my class more than I did in that moment. The rest of the period ticked by so slowly that I almost swore the clocks were broken. Once we were allowed to leave, Spencer insisted on sticking around to thank the professor for his hospitality.
I knew it was necessary, but that didn’t mean I had to like it. I tried to be as patient as possible, even though it seemed pointless. Spencer’s little grin told me he knew very well what he was doing. The conversation had dragged on for practically five minutes of agony while I idled by the door.
But then my professor passed, and I felt the adrenaline course through my veins in seconds. As anticipated, we didn’t even make it out of the building before the tension broke. We’d barely even made it down the goddamn hallway before I shoved his scrawny ass into the first empty classroom I found. Once the door clicked shut behind us, the roles were quickly reversed.
I hadn’t seen him that excited in so long that I’d almost forgotten how easy it was to get swept up in his undertow. I couldn’t keep track of his hands or his mouth as they marked any bare skin they could find. But no matter how frantic and uncoordinated the movements were, they never ceased to send chills down my spine.
“This is wildly inappropriate, Dr. Reid,” I managed to slur between sloppy, heated kisses. It was barely comprehensible through the pent-up lust that had driven us there in the first place, but it still felt worth saying.
Spencer, however, made his feelings very clear with a gruff, forceful, “I don’t care.”
His hands were already roaming over my hips, pulling me so close to the edge that I nearly fell off the counter entirely. While I was laughing at his haste, he was busy leaving angry marks on my collarbone, pulling the top of my shirt down to grant him more access. And despite how badly my body burned with desire and need, I drummed up just enough self-preservation to force out a few, regrettable words.
“Take me home.”
Even though I tried to make it sound more seductive than a normal request to stop, it brought the momentum to a halt. Spencer immediately stopped his kisses, but let his hands continue to stroke loving patterns over the sides of my thighs.
“Don’t you have other classes?” he asked. The feeling of his breath against my ears making me second-guess my already voiced decision. But as enticing as the idea was of having him now, having already waited over a week, I knew we could have so much more fun with a little bit of privacy.
“Don’t you have work?” I teased, hoping that it would spur him to take the action we both knew was safer. At the same time, I couldn’t stop myself from wanting to poke fun at the academic in him.
“Unless this is your way of telling me you've always wanted to fuck a girl in a lab because, I must admit I'd be more than happy to oblige." 
Spencer’s whole body tensed as he imagined just what it would feel like to take me in such a public place. After a couple seconds that I can only imagine were filled with fantasies and a reasonable fear, he pulled me from my seat on the counter and placed me back on the ground.
“Let’s go,” he said, pulling me by my wrist towards the door.
I only barely managed to stop him with both hands on his arm. He turned back to look at me like I’d done some horrible thing, but I was too busy trying to stop the laughter that was spilling from my chest.
“You’re uh—” I cleared my throat, pointing to the very noticeable tent in his slacks before I keened through the giggles, “You’re gonna have to do something about that.”
With a quick glance down, Spencer remembered the very unfortunately obvious trait of the male anatomy. “Fuck,” he stated plainly.
I couldn’t resist.
“I mean, I’m down,” I joked one final time.  
“Shut up!” Spencer laughed, too, trying and failing to adjust himself in his pants while I just enjoyed the show.
After all, we both knew that once we were alone, he would get a reprieve from my ridicule. He would get whatever he wanted.
—————————————————
The chaotic clashing of hands and mouths continued seconds after we’d reached our destination. The empty apartment had all of the sounds of our desperation echoing back to us, and after soaking in the melodious noise for a few seconds, I snapped back to reality.
“Okay, she doesn’t get home for another 30 minutes at the earliest so, we’d better hurry,” I urged, trying to shove Spencer off of me to convince him to move. It barely worked, with his arms clutching tighter the harder I struggled to get away.
Wrapped together just like that, the two of us barely made it a few feet before we almost tumbled to the ground. That was just enough of a reminder of our lack of coordination for Spencer to finally, begrudgingly, release me. Kind of. His hand still held tight to mine, and our laughter still combined the whole way to our bed.
From there, Spencer felt confident in our privacy to answer, “That’s fine. I usually tear open my gifts pretty quickly.”
It was a very good metaphor for the way his hands worked over my clothes. I didn’t even try to pinpoint the moment where being naked no longer made me feel nervous. I let the scar tissue show because neither of us were going to look at it, anyway. We were too caught up in the slight shifts and nuances of our faces as we rushed towards our one mutual goal.
“I missed you,” I mumbled, the words feeling as natural as breathing itself.
“I missed you, too,” he returned, and I felt the raw emotion, the sincerity and desire in every syllable. But once it was over and he had finally managed to remove everything but my underwear, all that was left was an all-encompassing, mind-altering level of lust.
“God, watching you in class was so fucking frustrating,” he strained, his upper lip curling with disdain as he watched my body squirm against the sheets.
“Why’s that?”
“I wanted you so badly.”
There was no denying that it was the honest truth, and I didn’t even want to try. I wanted to gloat and bask in the confirmation that his presence was dangerous for my academic career. Not to mention my sanity.  
“Like I said. You’re very distracting.”
Then, to prove my point, that brilliant bastard shoved his hand under the band of my underwear. He only held me softly for one second before he slid his fingers through the slickness and thrust them roughly into me. It hadn’t been that long, but the emptiness I felt before was even more apparent now that I had any part of him inside of me again.
“Am I?” he chimed with a smile.
I wanted to be bratty, to fight the tension that was building and appear unfazed by his ministrations, but there was simply no pretending. Not when my body was already on the verge of spasming around his fingers that seemed to stroke the perfect place within me with every movement.
“Jesus Christ,” I sighed. I should’ve known better than to give him ammunition.
“You’ve resorted to blasphemy already?”
Spencer partnered the tease with a ruthless thrust, burying his fingers to the knuckle inside of me and holding them there. He waited until I ran out of breath and struggled to take another while also trying not to scream in a mixture of frustration and devastating need for more.
“I thought I told you we had to hurry?”
“We’ve got time,” he shot back without pause, “You’re just being a needy little brat.”
“Yes, I am,” I whined just as quickly, “I’m a fucking brat and I need you.”
He almost seemed disappointed in my compliance. His fingers began moving again, eliciting noises that were louder, higher, and sweeter after the anticipation. He tried to draw the attitude out of me by stopping again, waiting for a quip that didn’t come.
“Awww, no fight?” he cooed.
“I can’t. It’s your birthday,” I grumbled before biting my tongue. The pressure was becoming so unbearable I thought I might honestly draw blood. But after another few seconds of torture that felt like a lifetime, Spencer withdrew his hand completely.
He was testing the limits, watching how far I would let him go before begging. But even when he took the same soaked fingers and began rubbing me from the outside of my underwear, I only opened my mouth to steal quick, soft breaths and give pitiful whines.
“Oh, I like this…” he laughed, apparently having gotten past his concern about my sudden compliance, “I could get used to you behaving.”
The song-like cadence got to me, threatening to spark and ignite everything I was holding back. I almost bit back. I almost let the desire scorch my throat with a few choice words for the very rude genius, but I didn’t. The only thing that stopped me was the feel of cotton sliding down my thighs as he removed the final barrier between us.
“You’d miss my misbehaving,” I said with a chuckle. The sound mixed with another, a deep moan that filled my chest when I felt him press himself against my entrance. My back arched, causing him to slip inside of me just enough for us to both lose our words.
“I don’t know…”
If I’d wanted to say anything, my mouth wouldn’t have let me. It was too busy singing his praise while simultaneously begging him to silence it. My lips floundered for a kiss that he hung just far enough away from me to deny. Satisfaction was painted over every feature as he started to enter me, brushing his lips against my mouth every few seconds just to pull away before I was granted the intimacy I sought.
“You do look rather cute when you’re begging.”
It was strange, the way my body started to predict his movements. I met him in the middle of every motion, and I swore even our breath became synchronized in its rapid firing. It wasn’t until his hand rested over my throat we broke the rhythm. I wasn’t going to complain, letting the energy flow down my spine that arched towards him on instinct. His hips never stopped, and I could tell by the way his breath hitched and his fingers grew tighter around my neck that the new angle was as wonderful for him as it was for me.
“You look so sweet when you let go of every ounce of self-preservation and dignity you have and put your life in my hands,” he whispered with an affection that almost seemed odd considering the context. But then there was something else in his moans, a genuine gentleness that made my already arrhythmic heart beat faster.
“You know I’ll take care of you, don’t you?” he asked as his movements stayed calm and careful. Loving and safe.  
I didn’t even notice my eyes had closed, but it ultimately didn’t matter. Because when I opened them, I saw the same man that existed in every image behind my eyelids. The only indication he got that I was still capable of communication was the gentle curve of my lips that dropped open in a pleased sigh as his hips continued a slow, tender pace.
It still felt like too much, but not in a bad way. It was too much in the sense that I was reminded once again just how ruined he’d made me. And the smug little shit knew it, too.
“You don’t have a single thought in that pretty little head, do you?” he cooed, dragging his hand up the column of my throat to force his fingers against my tongue. True to my word, I didn’t try to fight back. I soaked the digits that still tasted like me with my jaw left open. His pupils dilated as he watched the spit pool in my mouth that awaited his instruction.
“You just want to be used. Like the perfect little doll you are.”
Unlike my own, his smile was more of a smirk. A crooked, ever so slightly wicked quirk that made my muscles tense around him in their own version of an affirmative answer. He took it, happily. His body crashed into mine, but it merely felt like an extension of myself returning home like the waves meeting the shore. I could feel him claiming his rightful place at the deepest parts of me, making his home with every powerful motion of his hips.
I could hardly breathe, let alone think. I didn’t want to. It felt unnecessary.
“My sweet little girl,” he muttered with an unbelievably chaste kiss in the center of my forehead, “You’d do anything to make your daddy happy.”
I felt detached from myself in a way that didn’t feel me with fear or pain. I could feel myself through his hands, strong and working the pliable flesh of my thighs as he held them up so that he could drive into me harder.
His eyes, also only half open, burned with intensity. I could feel the determination, the undying desire to grant me a serenity that no one else could. His need for me to feel safe and loved with the seemingly contradictory brutality.
But it wasn’t contradictory. The power behind every movement, the insistence on being as close to me as he possibly could, might have caused some physical pain, but it was nothing compared to the pleasure of sharing this space with him. Of sharing my body with him just to see what he would do with it. I already knew, but I wanted to feel it again and again. Because with each stroke of his hand and thrust of his hips, I felt it.
Spencer had free rein to do whatever he wanted, and he chose to love me.
“I’m so close. You know what I want,” he pleaded despite holding all of the power. He handed it to me with a low groan, trying to kiss my lips while he commanded, “Do it. Come for me.”
My body obeyed his command, falling to pieces around him with shockwaves breaking over every inch of me. My vision went white, crafting a halo of light around him as he also found himself reaching a peak that seemed different than the times we’d shared before.
I tried to figure out what had changed, what about this time made it unique. But as the euphoria faded, all I saw staring back at me was the same face as always, radiating a joy and understanding that warmed damp, chilly skin. Spencer’s release provided a similar warmth within me, and my body clung to him even tighter despite the exhaustion.
My breathing took its time to even out, but I was in no rush to leave him. I would have stayed like that forever, with Spencer covering me like the silliest, boniest blanket. If it wasn’t for the dead weight he eventually dropped on me, we probably would’ve spent the whole day lost in the covers. But he could thank the scars for me being a little less forgiving.
Of course, thankful is not the word to describe him at all. Whiny was more like it. Even as I turned our bodies together so that I would still be sitting on his lap, he did nothing but groan and bitch about it. That is, until I silenced him with a kiss that barely brushed over his lips.
That was enough to turn his frown back to the dopey smile I loved so much.
“Happy birthday, old man,” I purred, enjoying the way his hands grabbed me tighter at the loving nickname. But age wasn’t what was on his mind. I could see it in the way his eyes tore past my defenses and he held me closer like we could actually become one if he tried hard enough.
“I’m so in love with you, it’s infuriating,” he whispered.
“I’ve heard that one before.”
Spencer wasn’t in a joking mood, though. All of his humor seemed to be expended earlier in the day, and now he was just left with all the mushy, romantic innards that I normally kept at bay.
It wasn’t that bad, though, I thought as his hands framed my face so our foreheads would touch. There were worse things to be trapped with.
“It’s true,” he mumbled with his voice still high and slurred together, “I look at you and there is just… nothing that can be said that would ever explain the way it feels.”
“Gross,” I joked.
“Get used to it,” he returned. And if that wasn’t enough to make me laugh, he stuck his tongue out in the most childish display I’d seen from him since he’d fucking licked my hand on our picnic. It was also just charming enough that I was willing to let the sappy stuff slide.
“I’ll be nice to you this time,” I grumbled. “But also, speaking of time, you’d better hurry up if you don’t want to do the walk of shame with an audience.”
Spencer’s arms fell limp with a dramatic cry before he used them to cover his face once more.
“Ugh. Go,” he ordered. Despite his words, he still made me fight against greedy hands to wrestle my way out of bed. It would have been smarter to let me go quickly. I really don’t know what he was thinking, but he would learn his mistake soon enough. Because as I was finishing up in the bathroom, I heard a very amused voice chiming down the hall on the other side of the door.
“Good afternoon, Spencer.”
I debated not opening the door and freeing Spencer from the unbelievably uncomfortable position he’d just found himself in, but ultimately decided it was too cruel. Still, the stalling had taken up enough time that the poor guy felt compelled to reply.
And, of course, the only thing he could think to say was a pathetic, high pitched, “Hi.”
Somehow managing to contain the absolutely riotous laughter I felt in my gut, I opened the door with the straightest face I could muster.
It wasn’t enough. Spencer saw the pleasure I took in his humiliation and practically shoved me out of the bathroom to take my place behind the doors. While I found the action endearing in the most awkward way, my roommate was mostly just confused about how the fuck I’d managed to find someone as stupid as me.
“I didn’t know he was coming,” she said once she managed to smile at the silly situation.  
Clearing my throat, I tried to sound sincere in my bullshit apology. “Me either, sorry.”
In a way, I think the fact I couldn’t pull myself together worked in my favor. Normally, she would have scolded me (albeit playfully) for not alerting her of what she might be walking in on, but this time, she just tried to withhold the smile that still stretched over her cheeks despite her best efforts.
“You’re fine,” she sighed, giving in to the desire to go against her usual grumpy demeanor before retreating to her own room. “Have fun, you hooligans.”
Once her door clicked shut, I heard shuffling on the other side of the door next to me. Spencer’s shadow was visible from the light peeking out underneath, and I waited a few more restless seconds before I announced, “You can come out now, Spencer.”
Cautiously, the door creaked open just enough for his head to poke out and confirm that I wasn’t trying to trick him.
“I’ve never been a hooligan before,” he said with a bounce in his step and his eyebrows halfway up his face. To think that he was the same man who threatened to arrest me for existing at a nightclub was, in a word, hilarious.
“Well, good news for you,” I purred, and the sound must have reminded him of my more devilish nature, because his jubilance quickly shifted back to an obvious anxiety. I wrapped my arms around him even when it meant that his muscles tensed, dragging him down so I could whisper in his ear, “I was just about to ask if you wanted to help me play hooky.”
“And do what?”
It felt strange to say that I hadn’t really thought about it. That the second I’d seen him I knew that the day would be good and free and fun. That everything felt so perfectly fine that I didn’t even want to challenge it with a schedule.
Spencer looked at me, his answer apparent in the way he started to relax the longer we stayed wrapped up in a shitty apartment hallway. It didn’t matter what I said. Spencer would have followed me, just like I would have done for him.
And without the angst or uncertainty of what could go wrong, there was only one thing left for us to do. With a shrug and pout, I proposed the riskiest plan we’d had yet.
“Whatever we want.”
—————————————————
| Finale |
527 notes · View notes
spiltscribbles · 3 years
Note
Oooo it’s my birthday today and I neeeeeed my sweet boys, is it too greedy if I ask for you to write something absolutely adores like you always do. I can wait there’s no rush. It would really make my day a whole lot better
~Notes: HI HI BABY!!! I’m so so fucking sorry this is like two days late 😭😭😭 I am a piece of shit and I had an idea and then I scrapped it and then I came up with this crack shit! But I included singling like you wanted!! And ILU endlessly!!! I hope your birthday was at least filled with sunlight and friends and all the adoration you deserve🎉🎉🎂🥳🎈🎈🎈🎊🎊🥳🎁. And I hope this isn’t a shitty gift!😭😭
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Send Me A Prompt<3  |  A Reblog is like a hug!!!!
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The 4 Times People Suspected About Remus and Sirius, and The One Time They Called It By Name
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~I~
Peter notices it first.
He doesn’t know quite what it is, or what it means— Peter doesn’t understand what it entails when he’s watching the way Sirius gently thumbs at a high patch on Remus’s cheek while he’s sleeping on the hospital bed after the first full moon of fourth year, a fraught look in his stormy eyes. Or how Remus’s gaze always search Sirius out first after he’s made a wry comment in the expense of the Slytherins, going alight with the other boy’s laughter. Peter doesn’t comprehend the way it sometimes seems like he’s caught in some sort of static— a negative space that makes him feel out of bounds— when he’s alone with only the pair of them. When they’re all huddled around the common area or their dormitory while James is probably skulking in search of Lily Evans or cajoling the other chasers to have another lap around the court. With Remus lounging on his fourposter, or the sofa, reading one of the infinite books he’s got tucked away in his trunk, and Sirius is quietly  sat by his feet, toying with a non-magical contraption he’s found in Muggle London after sneaking out from his ancestral home while his folks were having a row. And Peter is ordinarily just fiddling with a scroll he has to finish for one of the tougher courses from a bit away, intermittently  glancing at them side long, just waiting for an excuse to leave the suffocating ambiance that feels like it’s been fitted for just the pair of them and not another soul.
But the most peculiar part about all of this is that Peter is accustomed to feeling like the spare, the cast off who’s clinging to the glimmering forms that are James and Sirius, and their ravenous appetite for any and all attention that’s given over because that’s the sort of boys they are— affluent and prominent and radiating with a sort of spark that’s all there own— the sort of boys that others find doubtless that they are something miraculous. But when Peter’s around just the pair of them, in the corner of the galaxy that the marauders have carved for them to rule like kings— It never feels quite so stilted, so weighty. Sirius and James have a gift of making everyone in the room feel like they’re in on the joke, that they could be showered with that same granger just as long as they play in the tableau. Remus and Sirius together feels the contrary of that, like there’s something pregnant lying between them, waiting to pounce. Like there’s an understanding that no one else gets to glimpse at, and no one else should try. An understanding  that’s personal and private and crackling with an energy that is far beyond anything between mere friends, beyond anything Peter could fathom with all his fifteen years.
Idly, over supper after an entire two hours being stuck between that strange tension simmering beneath the surface of Remus and Sirius, Peter wonders for the umpteenth time on whether he should ask James about this development in their small brotherhood, should ask him if he’s detected the difference there. And if he has, Peter will listen to James’s plan to ensure this doesn’t ruin anything. How whatever is brewing under the surface won’t absolutely ruin them.
But then, from the corner of his eye, Peter sees Sirius— none to gently— piling Remus’s plate with an abundance of the potatoes that Moony likes best, dipping down to whisper something in his ear— something surely lecherous— before tousling his curls in that brash, bombastic way of his that he does with Peter and James too, even if he ends it by gingerly cupping the nape of Remus’s neck with a surreptitious squeeze that ends just as quickly as it began, falling back into conversation with James and Marlene about the Wasps’s chances against the Harpies this Friday night as if it was just an innate action, even if it’s one Peter’s only ever witnessed him doing to Remus.
And even though there’s another full in two days, and even though Remus looks like a walking inferi— pale faced and exhausted posture and circles the color of midnight smudged beneath his eyes— Peter watches the ends of his lips quirk up into the best approximation of a smile Peter’s ever seen on him so close to the wolf breaking through the surface of his body that’s all skin and bones, and he isn’t sure if it’s a trick of the light or not, but Remus actually looks like he might be glowing over the strange attention that Sirius’s only ever paid to him.
So no… No, Peter doesn’t think he’ll ask James quite yet, reckons that if anything can help his moon plagued friend, that it must be something good, something that shouldn’t be tempered with.
They can figure out how the strange string pulling Remus and Sirius together will alter their brotherhood later on, there’s still time. There’ still a possibility that it won’t devastate everything.
~II~
Lily’s suspected for a while.
The thing is that she’s known about Remus since the end of third year, when he rebuffed the advances of an eager Heleen  Abed, and Lily found him on the ledge of the largest window in the vacant common room— the same one that they regularly commandeer with Mary McDonald to discuss the finer points of Muggle politics and current events, separate from the melting pot of their Gryffindor class that’s composed of either pure bloods or those with their closest Muggle relative being a long dead grandparent. And it was definitely a dangerous, knife’s edge she was playing at, but Lily had sat besides the boy who she’s cultivated a real and true friendship with— one beyond pleasant platitudes and fodder about their course work— and she told him about her cousin Joey with green spiked hair and a mischievous smile adorned with a sparkling stud and how she and Petunia had caught him holding hands with one of his friends from sixth-form in the garden of her Aunt’s cottage, and how even the sneer on her older sisters lips hadn’t deterred Lily from thinking anything but mild indifference about the situation. Only wanting her cousin to always live in that easy effervescence she’s always known when it came to him.
And nothing else was exchanged between them, but Remus had grinned in that barely perceptible way of his, and Lily had nudged his shoulder with her own and then fished out her final handful of chocolate frogs for them to share while they revise their notes for the transfiguration exam coming up. 
Two summers have past since then—they’re in the midst  of their final term of fifth year now— and she thinks that they’ve become even closer, that the frequent late nights in the library for their impending OWLs and their countless prefect rounds has helped forge a real and true bond— especially that whole snag earlier in the year when they had realized they were both snogging Leon Bennett on alternating nights behind greenhouse three. But all of that withstanding, Lily knows that there are still secrets Remus keeps tight to his chest, ones that Lily’s analytical mind— the mind of a potions expert and future healer— has suspected to do with the thin, silvery scars running down his strong hands that are all tapered fingers and slender wrists, and another across his right bicep that she saw when he had changed his robes for a jumper in front of her, and the one cutting down from the bottom of his ear and nearly across the entire length of his neck, ending at the corner of his sharp collarbone. But Lily suspects he’ll tell her about that soon enough, what she isn’t so confident about is him admitting that particularly dazed look he gets when around Black, of all people. The way he stammers his words occasionally and the way he worries on his bottom lip while averting his glance when Sirius is chatting up a very pleased looking girl, and the way he flushes when Lily is ribbing about him in particular. And Lily knows that the foursome of Gryffindor boys had a falling out of sorts before winter hols, that there’s a hairline fracture between them and Remus now— one that she’s sure no one else can pick up on after the way they had seemingly come back together in late January, right before her birthday funnily enough. But Lily’s always been the analytical  sort— the sort to absorb the barebones of a situation so she could conjure a hypothesis that she could prove after careful study.
So Lily knows that it’s something deeper, and she can see  how Remus is reticent around them in ways she’s actually worried won’t be shaken off anytime soon— which is all levels of bazaar considering she’s been telling Remus for years that he needs to shrug off his rowdy mates like a snake shedding an old coat. But before, when she’d barb as much he’d only stick out his tongue and tell her what happens to busybodies, and how she doesn’t really know them at all. But now days, he just looks particularly hurt, and more than a bit put out, and Lily catches him flickering over to wherever Sirius was holding court, longing in a way she couldn’t possibly articulate out loud.
Honestly Lily thinks it’s really quite gracious of her to have dropped the subject completely, rather, she takes up the mantel of his friend that can distract him from all those sorts of woes, biting her tongue over his lingering feelings for Sirius that are more than likely far beyond a passing fancy. And she thinks that maybe that’s a good call, maybe it’s good for Remus to beat down those sorts of emotions  that he’s harboring for the wanker. She knows Remus, and she knows he wouldn’t hold a grudge— even such a quiet one— for no reason at all. Besides, she doesn’t really think it’s her place to tell him how when he’s glancing away, Sirius is holding vigil to him with that same sort of fervor. That Sirius is the one who collects the notes for all his classes on those conspicuous absences of his when Remus is feeling poorly in the infirmary. That Sirius occasionally looks so very gutted when Remus is wilting away from them, when he seeks Lily’s company instead.
She has a heavy suspicion that Remus might already know all of those things— that maybe they’ve already discussed it at length, that maybe the falling out in December has caused a full stop of anything that could’ve potentially blossomed between them. And she just wishes she knew the entire story so she could decide on whether she should be jinxing Black’s face to a putrid orange color, or pushing Remus to actually give him a chance.
Lily just wishes she could read Black as easily as she can Remus, maybe that would help in this experiment she’s testing, because for now she’s just confused as all hell over what exactly Black feels towards him. Well that is until it’s a fortnight before Remus’s birthday, and she’s being bodily dragged into a closet on her way to charms.
“Oi— What the bloody—“
“Language, Evans,” the annoyingly familiar baritone of Sirius Black tsks, lighting up the cupboard with his wand and smirking in that jagged way she’s heard countless girls tittering over, and the one that makes her want to pop him one right against his ridiculously smug face.
“Black,” she says, caustic as all get out with her fists clenched against her sides and her brows making a really resilient effort to meet in the middle. “You’ve got thirty seconds before I hex your bollocks off.”
“Pff, and Jamie thinks you’re some sort of saint.”
“Twenty-eight. Twenty-seven. Twenty-six.”
Sirius pulls a face at her, but must understand the credence in the words, because it’s not another moment more before he pulls out a bedraggled looking slip of paper from his robe’s pocket, and thrusts it at her face. So with an indignant huff, Lily opens it up and begins scanning the words— becoming all the more confused when she sees measurements and things like coco powder and melted butter, instead of whatever the hell else she was preparing herself to read.
“I’m being pranked, aren’t I? You’re trying to distract me so you and Potter can do something horrid to the Slytherin’s common room.”
“We’ve actually already done that today,” Sirius jeers, raising up his hands in concession with a cluck of the tongue at her scowling face. “’s from Moony’s mum, all right. I asked her to send me the recipe of this chocolate cake she use to make him for his birthdays before Hogwarts— I just thought… It might be nice is all, and you can sod right off if you look at me like that, Evans, with the soft eyes and all that rot. Are you going to help me or not?”
Lily resolutely ignores the pang to her heart, because God, this really is such a sweet gesture. “And what? you thought I could help you because I’m a bird?” She asks in the most scolding inflection she could muster in the face of this incredibly soppy gift he wants to give Remus.
“None of that, blimey, Evans.” Sirius snarls, obviously diffident, and combined with the faint flush to his cheeks, Lily suddenly realizes why he’s considered one of the best looking blokes in the entirety of their school. “There’s a whole load of Muggle mumbo jumbo, so it was between asking you, or McDonald, and I adore Mary and all, but  she has got such a mouth on her.”
“You should know,” Lily counters with a leer. “She couldn’t stop going on about your date back in October.”
Sirius’s brows hike, and he actually smiles at her— one that’s vacant from all his bravado from his upbringing in his pretentious, pure blood home, and one that isn’t trying to show off. And Lily can’t help but favoringly liken him to an excited pug. “Oh you’re wicked, Evans!” He shrills delightedly. “Oh this is great, you’re just as depraved as Remus, are all prefects like this?”
Lily snorts, shaking her head at him, indulgent. “Never mind that, Black. Most of this stuff can be found in the kitchens below, I’m sure the house elves won’t mind us borrowing anything.”
“And the ingredients that won’t be down their?” He asks worriedly.
“Well, good on you planning this so far ahead of time, we’ll just have to experiment.”
Sirius groans in retort, muttering things about Muggle potions and James thinking he’s getting off with his future wife and other ridiculous things that Lily doesn’t bother to stay and listen to. Though, when Remus’s birthday does roll around, and she sees his countenance go a thousand shades brighter as he bites into the pudding, and Sirius’s grin stretch just that much more across his face in response— their eyes meeting across the room and past the crowds— Well Lily suspects Sirius never really minded any of the things he was whinging on about, not at all, not as long as the result was a beaming Remus.
~III~
Regulus hears about it in the halls.
He’s not much for gossip or that sort of dribble, doesn’t have much patience for anyone outside his house if he’s being at all frank— and even then, it’s not as if he doesn’t frequently find himself escaping to his fourposter for a moment’s quiet. It seems that everyone in this bloody castle are just dimwitted, daft idiots, and Regulus’s never been the sort to offer allowances for that kind of behavior. He’s been raised in the home of a family as close to royalty as Wizards permit, a prince among men. And he was told that he should have patience for the dull folks beneath him, just as long as they have the correct ideals, but sometimes he can’t help but wish they would all just let him be, sometimes feels like he’s being carted around Hogwarts as the perfect pure blood,  like he was nine years old again and being shown off in the parlor of  his home when guests came to call, watching from the sidelines while his mother rave about how splendid of an heir Sirius is turning out to be. How his tutor calls him a genius for any age, and how darling he looks in Slytherin green, and how he’s already mastered three romance languages to help in his spell work. 
And Regulus can’t help but scoff at those contemplations now, thinking of the past summer when his dramatic and brash brother had made a whole production of leaving behind the values that gave him everything he has. How he escaped to that Potter git’s home the way he’s been doing for nearly every holiday since his second year, how he offered Regulus to come along as if he’s a trader just like him. What a risible excuse for an heir.
But Regulus won’t commit such follies, he’ll make his parents proud— even if his father is nearly never paying much mind and his mother goes from raving to sickly in a blink of an eye. It doesn’t matter, because he’ll carry on the Black legacy, something that his oh so perfect brother never could’ve done. Regulus is only a fifth year, will be turning sixteen in only two months after Sirius’s coming of age, and sure, this might mean he’s still young enough that the Death Eaters don’t find him adequate to fight on the line of fire, but he’ll do it eventually, feels the weight of the letter from Bellatrix praising him for as much resting heavy in his pocket. And if Regulus finds them all a bit too vicious or a bit too excitable and completely lacking a deft hand to make the changes they’re searching for, he shrugs it off. He knows what he must do, and as he stares at his brother from across the valley cusping the lake, he’s only that much more steadfast in the conviction of the fact.
Sirius is sitting and laughing with a group of his Gryffindor mates, the mudbloods, and blood traders that had warped him from the brother he knew to the stranger he is now. And there’s a dark skinned Ravenclaw bird— Meadowes if he remembers correctly from his prefect meetings— and she’s telling some sort of long winded tail with hand gestures and loud cackling coming from the group as she goes on. And Sirius is tossing around a quaffle with Potter— the glint of a handsome, silver watch on his wrist catching in the dying sunlight. And Regulus wonders who had gifted him such a personal passage to adulthood, but is soon distracted by spotting the way Sirius nearly gets smacked in the face with the ball because he was too busy gawking over  at Lupin in such a stripped down, cautious way that it makes Regulus squirm.
He doesn’t know much about the elder Prefect, only that his name had come up nearly as much as Potters during that first year when Sirius would send him correspondence on a frequent basis because he knew how lonely Regulus would get while stuck in Grimmauld all by himself. And then when he began attending Hogwarts, Regulus never could get a good reading on him. He knew Potter because of how his family is infamous for their liberal views and nouveau riche attitudes, and Pettigrews family owns a hokey herb shop in Diagon. All he’s found out about the Lupins is that his father is the son of half-bloods and his mother is a Muggle, and that this mudblood is a reserved, carefully aloof bugger, and that somehow he’s seemingly captured all of Sirius’s attentions that he’s not giving Potter or the clinger ons who follow him around like mindless fools. Beyond that, Lupin and Regulus have only traded a hand full of words whenever their roles of prefects would force them to intermingle, and it’s always been punctuated by Lupin giving Regulus a witheringly cold look anytime they were in close proximity, which is admittedly impressive considering that half the time the sickly bastard looks like he’s about ready to keel over.
So no, Regulus doesn’t know much about him, but he’s heard the rumors. He knows that it’s basically an open secret between the Gryffindor class and selected friends. The fact that  his brother is probably shagging the mudblood, convincing Regulus that Sirius really has never given a toss about the decorum and standards befalling them as the only two Black males of their generation. And he hates his brother  so scathingly right then, hates his little munblood lover probably even more. 
And when he watches Lupin straying his gaze from the novel he was reading while that red haired Muggle born was resting her head in his lap, and Regulus saw the way both of their expressions went a peculiar sort of tender— well that’s the last straw, so he stands up in a huff— so unlike himself— and he cuts the story Mulciber was crowing on about, and he tells them he needs to complete a scroll for Slughorn.
And while he prowls away from the sight of his brother continuing to ruin everything, Regulus plunges a hand into his pocket, and crunches Bellatrix’s letter in his grasp, promises himself to write her back soon, and ignores the ache in his chest that’s only been growing larger since Sirius had left permanently.
~IV~
James’s always known.
Perhaps that’s an over reach, but it’s true enough. He’s known for years, on some level, that the thing between Sirius and Remus is something completely foreign to him. Something completely separate from how Sirius licks his face when James is over sleeping and he wants to be a general nuisance. Separate from how he and Remus have begun discussing anything and everything in the wee hours of the morning, with a spot of tea between them and a blanket on their legs, because Remus can’t sleep from the moon and James has never been able to sleep through the whole night without feeling guilty over it. He thinks it stemmed from when he was younger, when his parents were feeling sickly, and before they were gifted a house elf by a family friend who recognized that the elderly Potters needed just a bit more assistance. 
James never knew whether it was obvious to him because he’s always considered Sirius as his bastard brother since Christmas of first year, and that he’s always trying to make sure that Remus is all right after finding out just how impressively the bloke can keep secrets once Sirius figured out his furry little problem. So he’s not sure what others know, or even what Remus and Sirius  know of what’s happening between them, honestly, there have been so many almosts that James has picked up on over the years. And he still shutters thinking about the near total break that happened with the prank, still isn’t quite sure what had past between them to get Sirius and Remus  speaking with each other once more, but he does know that Remus staying with James, Sirius, and  Peter the past summer after Sirius escaping the twisted place he was suppose to call a home, is what helped indefinitely. And now, a year separate from the prank, things finally feel normal between them.
Well— Erm, not normal per se. Those idiots are still blustering and bumbling and bashfully avoiding one another when anything close to romantic comes up in a discussion or when their hands touch over the Great Hall table or whenever James makes a pointed remark when he catches one of them staring a bit too slack jawed at the other in the midst of something totally bloody innocuous in the eyes of a normal person— EG: Sirius gathering his hair— that’s nearly to the bottom of his neck now a days— into a small knot on the back of his head, or Remus sucking idly on a sugar quill while he’s revising. And sure, James has to deal with the kicks at his ankles, or a spare jinx if one of them is especially pissy, but Lily’s come to join him in the ribbing, so it kind of makes everything all right. Especially when she levels her beautiful, forrest green eyes with his own brown ones, and she actually looks sort of endeared.
Yeah— that’s a fucking amazing feeling all right, and it’s probably the memory of that happening only a few hours ago that has got James all jittery now, far past midnight. So with a tired sigh, he slides open the drapes of his fourposter, is ready to go downstairs for a kitchen raid if Remus isn’t awake— Though once he sets his glasses on, and blinks a few times over to get acclimated with the dark, he’s only a bit stunned to find the shapes of Remus and Sirius crowded on the former’s bed— and they’re really not much more than suggestions beneath the shadows, but it’s enough for James to see Sirius’s head bent low, resting it against the crook of  Moony’s neck and shoulder, while the shorter boy has got his arms wrapped around Sirius’s torso. And it’s nothing obscene, not really— it’s not like they’re nude or anything— but Sirius is shirtless, and Remus does have this blissed out expression painted over his features, that James would bet good money is the same one Sirius has got on if most of his face wasn’t covered by his hair.
And in another breath, Remus’s honey colored eyes flap open, widening exponentially when he catches sight of James, and wiggling around as if he wants to move away from Sirius completely, which is of course stunted when Sirius makes a low noise under his breath, and presses closer so that his mouth is quite literally right against Remus’s neck, and his arms tug him closer.
And James is definitely convinced that he’s the best mate any bloke could ask for when instead of chuckling at the obvious show of territorialism, he just shakes his head indulgently at them, mouthing an “About time plonker,” to Remus, who replies in kind with a hefty, two fingered salute.
This time James has to bite down to prevent his chuckle from spilling out.
“And here I was, about to offer you a snack from our dear house elves.” He whispers, hopefully quiet enough so that only Remus could hear.
“Oh, just bugger off,” Remus retorts, smiling with such mirth that James can’t even feign to be affronted over it, only follows the playful command and tries figuring out just how to give the ‘If you hurt him I’ll hurt you’ talk to the pair of them without it coming across insincerely. 
~+I~
Millie was bored until she saw them.
The only reason why Millie got this boring job in this beyond posh restaurant is because her folks reckon that she needs to learn some form of responsibility before university, and she hates it. The pay is absolute shite, and most of her coworkers are all levels of boring, and the patrons are not nearly entertaining enough to try and make up some secret back story of tumultuous affairs or secret agents from the MI6, or a royal from some country on the continent meeting their star-crossed lover.
It’s all just painfully ordinary, and she’s cursing her parents while she chomps on her gum, reading some stupid note by an ugly old fart who left her his number on the receipt. 
Scoffing while she bins it, Millie glances over to the newly occupied table in her section, heart immediately leaping once she gets a good look at the pair of blokes sitting down. 
The sandy haired one is definitely cute in that reserved way her best friend Claire would definitely be mad over— the guy who could read you poetry in French or Italian and then gently kisses the back of your hand. And that’s all and well, but Millie’s every attention is laser focussed on his mate, the one that looks like he can be bloody James Bond with those smoldering eyes and that ink black hair, and God, those cheekbones! Definitely one of those beautiful, Public school boys who’s born and bread by the patrician. And while she takes their orders, she tosses him her most flattering of grins and slips in her giggle that an ex boyfriend compared to silver bells, and is sure to flip her long, chestnut hair enough times so he’d notice, even if she’s pretty sure he’s either pissed or probably more than a bit stoned. (Truly, where the bloody hell would he come up with pumpkin juice? How horrid must that taste). 
Millie may or may not spend an unreasonable amount of time spying at them from where the cooks drop off the completed plates to be sent away. He’s just so bloody good looking, and she can’t believe this awful job has finally brought her such an amazing distraction, and the arse doesn’t even pay her much mind, leaving the ordering and the conversing to his fair haired friend.
Maybe he’s sensitive, she thinks to herself. Maybe he’s just a shy soul. And yes, that must be it! The poor, beautiful sod. She’s sure to make her intentions clear next time she thinks it’s appropriate to top off their waters, because she’s so very  gracious like that.
“Enjoying yourselves?” Millie asks in her most light hearted of cadences, filling up the shorter one’s glass but smiling fully and exclusively to the boy who looks like he should be starring in some sort of Brook’s Brothers advert.
“Ta,” the sandy haired boy says, sounding a bit amused at her dilemma, but it’s kind enough so Millie doesn’t feel brassed off over it. “Do you mind pointing me to the loo?”
“Oh of course!” She crows, suddenly ecstatic as she directs him, finally getting a chance to be alone with the model. Though when she turns her attention to him once the other one leaves to take a leak, she’s kind of confused how he’s staring after him with a glance she vividly remembers on the face of her ex whenever she’d peer back around to ensure he was watching her go— Though, if Millie’s being honest, the model somehow looks simultaneously eager to watch the back of him, but also already disheartened not to have him around in ways she doubts anyone she’s ever gone out with has ever exhibited. “He’s a nice chap,” she states, instead of marinating on the strangeness of this development.
The practical model starts, seems to have forgotten about her presence all together, but then he glances over towards her with those impossibly flattering, pale gray eyes, and he nods disinterestedly. And yeah, yikes. That is a total hit to Millie’s ego.
“Ahem,” she clears her throat, begins twisting her free hand into the material of her apron. “’S nice you guys came for dinner, you don’t see much friends considering how bloody expensive it is here, hah.”
Millie feels herself going absolutely scarlet at the impassive way he drags his gaze up and down her form before taking a swig of his Bellini. “He’s not my friend.”
“Oh,” Millie practically squeaks out, suddenly wonders if maybe he’s a tutor from his class or something? Maybe the model is just taking the cute one out to dinner as a thanks for helping him pass his A-levels? Maybe this is considered cheap in the circles that the model keeps.
“’S our one year anniversary actually,” he tells her, still in that methodical, blasé way of his. And oh. Oh wow! Suddenly everything is snapping into clarity.
The way the two boys had brushed the back of their hands before being seated, how model had trusted the other boy to order for him, how model never looked away from the cute one’s mouth or collarbones or hands as they spoke. How whenever she came around to ask if they needed anything else, it felt like she was intruding on more than just a couple of mates catching up.
Oh Jesus, she feels like such an idiot, and Millie tells the model just as much.
“I’m sorry, I’m an idiot! I didn’t even put it together.”
Remarkably, the model’s rigid posture goes a bit loose at her apology, and the corner of his thin lips quirk up into a grin. “’S fine, he didn’t want to make a fuss out of it, but yeah— Just feels good telling someone.”
Millie nods eagerly, she can’t understand exactly what he means, obviously not,  but she can definitely try to, and if it feels good for him to tell a random bird about something so important, then she’s more than happy to help. “Well the point stands, yeah? He seems like a good sort, you’re lucky to have found each other.”
The model’s grin goes elastic at that, and he looks actually approachable for the first time tonight. “I’m the luckiest bloke in the world that I get to be with him.”
Millie flushes at the intensity embedded into his statement, but thankfully doesn’t have to answer when she hears the sandy haired boy walking closer now, smiling so brightly that there’s a dimple popping up on the apple of his cheek that Millie’s only just noticed— The mirth is a good color on him, she reckons. Makes him look as gorgeous as those boys on the telly dramas her Mum is always gushing about, even his eyes turn more golden than light brown. “You pestering our waitress Padfoot?”
“You know I keep my devilish tongue for you and you alone Moonbeam,” the model—Padfoot cannot be his actual name for heaven’s sake— retorts.
“Lucky me,” the sandy haired boy says wryly as he takes a seat, and while Millie walks away— intending to get them a pudding that’s on the house to celebrate the milestone of their relationship— she peers back around only once and it’s enough to see the tips of their fingers kissing across the table, and their smiles looking like a secret language not meant for anyone else to read. 
.-
My Full Wolfstar FIC Masterlist💜
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burnedbyshoto · 3 years
Text
life is not a shoujo manga
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— Kaibara believes that his life with you could be a shoujo manga. Why? One, he’s in love with you and two, you work at a maid cafe he is prohibited from visiting. But nothing happens in life without doing what you’re told NEVER to do.
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pairing: kaibara sen x fem!reader
warnings: 18+, smut, modern!au, reader is a sex worker, maid cafe but make it kinky, dubcon (spoiler: reader just services kaibara despite his embarrassment), semipublic sex, master and maid dynamic/kink, blow job, sex on a table, marking
word count: 4,570
a/n: this is for the bnharem collab for sex work lmaoooo, this was hella inspired by maid-sama,,, kinda sorta, not really, but hey!!!! check out the rest of the masterlist and I hope you enjoy this!!! happy birthday to me :D
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Kaibara Sen was pretty confident in the fact that he was not in a shoujo manga.
There are, however, some claims that he can unashamedly admit make him believe that he might be in one. Here is his gathered evidence:
1. He had a crush on a girl (you) that was practically written to be nothing more than a crazy, hopeful fantasy.
Explanation:
Kaibara has known you for his entire life, but you, the airheaded, mind focused on only those around you, had never noticed him. You were bright, intelligent, witty, with blazing eyes and a curling smile, you were an enigma in the world, and he was a bystander just waiting for a day when you would notice him. Popular as you were, Kaibara knew he stood no chance at ever playing a role in your life. There was no room for his initial stoic personality, the way that he walks away from you as you near because, god forbid, you see his ears tinge pink.
All in all, you never knew he existed, and his crush would have to remain one-sided and unknown. But you see, reason number two is yet a testament to his denied belief that he lives a shoujo manga.
2. He had gained your attention one day by catching you one day when you tripped off a brick wall.
Explanation:
Talk about falling into the arms of the one you’re destined for! Kaibara had been walking home from the end of his first year of high school, and as he turned a corner, there came a yell and he looked up to see a body plummeting towards him. With adrenaline coursing through his veins and superhuman strength supplying him the strength and ability to catch you, Kaibara caught you bridal style. He held you there for a few moments, the air suddenly blowing and the blossoming cherry blossoms swirling with the winds. He swore your eyes brightened at the moment you locked eyes.
3. He had a (former) love rival.
Explanation:
Pretty self-explanatory, Kaibara would admit. Before his introduction to you, another male student in your class had been essentially building up his intentions to ask you out. Kaibara wasn’t one to step on people’s toes; he respected people too much and often just didn’t want to spend energy where he thought was unnecessary. But you were never unnecessary. Kaibara wanted you and found himself clashing heads with this other love rival, but he seemed to have won the moment Kaibara was accepted into the same university as you.
4. You were working at a maid cafe.
Explanation:
Kaibara did not have an older sister for no reason. Maid-Sama and Ouran Highschool Host Club were constantly on repeat when he was growing up! Because of this selected memory and application, he believed that time and time again, whenever maids were involved — or any type of service job — it was shoujo material.
Four points and that was four more points than most romances, and Kaibara was convinced that he was in line to become the main star of a real-life adaption of some obscure shoujo manga. All he had to do now was seal the deal and get you, his now best friend of nearly four years, to fall in love with him.
“I have work tonight,” you sigh from your place on Kaibara’s bed, your face twisted in a dissatisfied pout, feet kicking a bit on the mattress. 
“Call out,” Kaibara simply replied, his head resting upon yours as you both watched an old All Might film. “I don’t understand why the maid cafe is open so late anyways. Who’s even awake and wanting to go out?”
You chuckle at his words, fingers tapping on your thigh — as they do when you’re a bit nervous.
“It’s a cafe for foreigners and people who are up late,” you repeat the same line you always say when Kaibara asks why you would go in so late. “It works out, and it pays well.”
“How long is your shift tonight?”
“Ten until three.”
Kaibara groans, “that’s rough.”
You snicker a bit in unknown irony, “you have no idea.”
Time passes, and Kaibara realizes that it’s nearly nine-thirty by the time you pull away from the small mirror on Kaibara’s desk (he bought it so that you could do your makeup in his room), and he looks at you in your beautiful form. You looked ethereal in the makeup, big eyes, and painted pretty lips. You turned to look at him, a grand grin painting your lips, and for whatever reason, a spoof of unspoken for confidence, Kaibara feels himself speaking before he can stop himself.
“Go on a date with me? Next weekend?”
You froze, before chuckling, lips splayed in a lazy grin, “you’d want to date a maid?”
“Undoubtedly.”
Kaibara watched as you flustered a bit, teeth tugging and tearing into your lower lip as you shook your head. “You’re a dork, Sen,” you push back a strand of hair as you stand up, “but let me think about it? As much as I love the idea of potentially being your girlfriend, I need to think about how you would feel about my job.”
And Kaibara smiled despite himself, his mind thinking about how sometimes shoujo protagonists often deny their own feelings at first. Not that his life was a shoujo manga anyways.
“I can do that.”
You laugh, the sound pretty and light on his ears, and you shake your head. Kaibara warmed at the sound and stood up too, already knowing that it was time for you to leave.
“Alright, but I must leave you now, my eternal love,” you grin, speaking with a mock accent. Your arms open for your goodbye hug he has since been accustomed to giving you when you both went separate ways. “I bid thee well when I’m away for the week.”
Ah yes, you would be gone for an entire week on account of a school trip you were taking.
“I do not know how I may live without you at my side, but I will try,” Kaibara spoke back with a low accent, too, his smile hidden in your neck as he hugged you near. “Have a good shift, and be safe on your trip.”
“Obviously!”
Two things about your job besides the obvious (that it was a maid cafe) that Kaibara knew.
1. You made a lot of money there.
He wasn’t all too sure as to why. He’s been to a maid cafe before and has definitely been called Kaibara-sama by pretty-faced females in French maid costumes. He knew that it was a popular place for otaku men and foreigners, but he also knew that pay range-wise, it wasn’t that much better than a typical waitress job.
2. Under no circumstances should he, or anyone for that matter, follow you to work or try to see you while you worked.
This made sense to Kaibara even if he didn’t particularly agree. There was no denying that he wanted to see you in a maid costume, he’d be a liar if he said otherwise, but he realized how embarrassing it could be for you. The fact that he knew where you worked was good enough for him.
Kaibara sighed, his body collapsing onto his bed, and he pulled out his phone. He checked the time on his phone and smiled, seeing that at this point, you were already at work because you sent a text saying that you had arrived. A small notification warning him that his phone was about to die pinged on his screen, and he frowned, hand reaching for his charger.
But instead of the white cord, his hand grasped onto the rose gold charging cable he knew was yours. You needed the charging cable; you were leaving on a trip basically right after work! Kaibara’s mouth twisted, weighing his options in his head. He knew that you had no other charging cables; you had a knack for breaking them without meaning to. 
Shaking his head, he stood up.
This was about your charger for your phone.
It would be okay! He would simply step foot into the maid cafe, hand your coworker (he was hopeful he would see you) your charger, and leave! He wouldn’t stay! Nope! Not at all.
Kaibara nodded at his resolution and pocketed your charger before turning on his heel and marching out of his room.
It took a bit to get to the cafe.
Fushi’s Maid Cafe is what it was called.
Its hours of operation were quite weird, at the very least in Kaibara’s opinion. On its website, it said that it was open between 11 am and 5 pm, a reasonable range for its demographic; however, there were many times in which you would go in much later in the night. You were in a 10 pm until 3 am shift after all.
It was currently midnight as the trains were down for the night, and Kaibara had resolved to walk a near hour to drop off your charger. He didn’t really mind, especially if he sees you in that costume.
‘No!’ Kaibara thought, ‘you’re in a shoujo manga, not a hentai!’
He frowned, remembering to continue to claim that he was not living in a shoujo manga, and strode to the door. Confidence in every step, his game plan being repeated time and time again. 
Kaibara swung open the door, readying himself to hear the onslaught of a chorus of ‘Welcome home, Master!’ but instead… oh…
He froze.
“F-Fukuda-samaaaaa!”
He blinked.
And as the door closed behind him, the most fucked out, blissful voice that he had only heard in his wettest of dreams called out, “Welcome home, Kaibara-sama…”
Kaibara locked eyes with you sitting alone at a table, your eyes laced with blissful lust, lips pouty and wet. The maid costume you had on exposed your beautiful breasts, shoving the curves, the tender flesh, and your sweat shined softly off it. Kaibara felt his breathing become shallower yet deeper as the sounds of meeting wet sex, lewd cries, the maids begging for more, demanding more. The clients — the masters — speaking in tongues as they fucked the women against the chairs, tabletops, anything in which they could balance. 
Oh.
It made sense why you never wanted anyone to follow you to work.
Kaibara had been so caught up in the scene before him, the somehow sex maid cafe themed orgy (sexy party? But there was no group sex minus the man in the back fucking three maids!) that he hadn’t noticed you approach him. He tensed yet again when your hands fisted into his shirt, your warm breath brushing against his exposed collarbones, a curling sweetness emitting from your person and knocking his breath away yet again.
“Kaibara-sama, I never expected you to finally come. I’ve missed you,” you whine, pressing your body so close to his. Your stocking-covered thighs were brushing against his slowly awakening dick. 
“Y-Y/n,” Kaibara stuttered, and he winced at how not part of the plan that was. “I-I thought this was a maid cafe?”
“We are a maid cafe,” you sigh as if he was asking an amusing yet dumb question. Your arms wrapping around his neck, and hips rolling against his. “We service our masters however they see fit! I wanna help Kaibara-sama feel good now that he’s here.”
Kaibara hisses under his breath, the feeling of your thigh rubbing against his growing dick insatiable as it is slightly uncomfortable due to the rough fabric of his jeans. “I’m here to drop off your charger! You forgot it! I-I’m leaving after this.”
You grin, your laughter bell-like in his ear as you nuzzle your nose against the smooth curve of his neck. “I left it there on purpose; I wanted Kaibara-sama to follow me here and see if he could still love me like this.” Goosebumps flash across his body, and Kaibara whines at the back of his throat as you begin walking backward, taking him to the table where you once sat. “I never wanted Kaibara-sama to see me like this, never wanted Kaibara-sama to see and know what a big whore I am before he confessed his feelings to me. But Kaibara-sama followed me to my work and didn’t run away… I’m so blessed.”
Your hands landed on his chest, and Kaibara yelped as you shoved him onto the spacious, comfortable chair before the table. Your teeth bit into your lower lip, eyes practically glowing with lust as a single sleeve began descending from your shoulder.
Kaibara suddenly forgot how to breathe.
“I’m at your service, Kaibara-sama,” you whisper, eyelashes fluttering. “How may I help you?”
Kaibara was going to respond eloquently and affirmatively that he didn’t need you to service him, but the Kaibara-sama sounded so lovely.
“I— um, well— I— ohmygoD!” 
Kaibara nearly leaped out of his own skin as you pushed his knees apart and kneeled before him. Your eyes locked on his before glancing down to the prominent bulge in his pants. You grin, fingers stretching out and eagerly unbuttoning his jeans and pulling out his hard cock in less than ten seconds.
“Wowwww,” you breathe, eyes lighting up at the still hardening dick you were holding in your hands. “Kaibara-sama… you’re so big!”
You stared at the easily nine-inch dick in your hands, the slight curve to it making your core burn, and the bluish veins dancing under the skin making your mouth water. He was better than what you had expected him to be, and you wanted to know how he tasted, how he felt in your mouth and your pussy. 
His erratic breathing caught your attention, and you looked back up at him, the scarlet on his cheeks, the expression that told you that he was battling instinct and morals. It was up to you, his maid, to make the decision for him, it seemed.
“I’ll take good care of you, Kaibara-sama,” you promised, heart hammering in your chest as you leaned forward, and without much of an issue, swallowed at least half of his cock.
Kaibara’s reaction is instantaneous; the near howl of pleasure and surprise ripping from his throat is a sound you’re almost unfamiliar with. He was such a serious man; even when he was comfortable and energetic, there was a sense of seriousness to him. There was a time, however, that you remember him being near-feral, demanding, excited. It was when there was a competition or when his feelings truly and utterly overcame him. You smiled around his cock, your teeth barely scraping the length of his cock, and giggled.
You overwhelmed him.
But there was no time for celebrations, no time to think about how you were serving your master to the best you could; his hands were suddenly fisted into your hair, and his hips rolled up into you, fucking your throat. Tears sprung in your eyes, the uncomfortable sensation of his cock flushes down your throat, pressing so heavy on your tongue.
“F-Fuck, this feels so fucking good!” Kaibara gasps, his eyebrows scrunching and hips lifting off the seat to continue face fucking you. 
You relax your throat as best you can, chokes and gags pittering out of your mouth despite your best attempts. You hum, forcing your throat to allow the tip of his cock to go even further down your throat. Kaibara moans loudly, the noises he makes dripping down your back, making you feel sweaty, hot, and flush. His noises stir the heat between your thighs, making one of your hands go down beneath the layers of your puffy skirt to press to your throbbing clit, desperate to relieve the building, untouched tension.
“No!” Kaibara hisses, a single hand leaving your head to grab onto your wandering hand and bringing it back up. You yelp around his cock at the sudden movement, and you’re forced to come off his cock with haggling, rough coughs. Tears fall down your cheeks, and there's a thick line of saliva and precum trailing between the tip of his cock and the bottom of your lip. “You’re my maid, right?”
You cough, your lungs are burning with wrongly swallowed saliva, and the recent asphyxiation you had. Cocking your head to the side, you startle when he suddenly leans in near, pinching your cheeks between two fingers and drawing you near him.
“Answer me, y/l/n-chan.”
“Y-Yes!” you squeak, swollen lips trembling and your breathing hitching as you shiver. There was a fire in his eyes, a type of lust-fueled rage that made your skin tingle and crawl in the sweetest of ways. “I’m here to service Kaibara-sama.”
“Then why are you trying to relieve yourself?” he snaps, face so near you want to kiss him, and you whimper because his scolding and humiliation do nothing to ease the fire in your cunt… it only ravages it, letting it fester into a raging wildfire. “You’re here for me, your master, so fuck me — focus on just me.”
“Yes, Kaibara-sama!” you shiver, body tingling as you reclaim his cock in your mouth.
And unlike before, where Kaibara merely sounded like a man who was feasting upon the food of the gods, he sits up straighter, more commanding, a man who sat in his chair knowing his worth. He took on the deception of a master.
“Hold my dick with your hands,” Kaibara grunts, hands fisting the hair at the nape of your neck and forcing your head to tilt up towards him. “I can’t trust you.”
You nodded your head, hands coming up to hold onto the base of his cock that your mouth couldn’t take in. You were fucking him diligently and intently with your mouth, driving him further down, your tongue and hollowed cheeks doing all it could to please your master. You sucked his dick with the intention of promising him that you were worth it, of making him fill your mouth and throat with him so he could never doubt that it was him you wanted, him you wanted to consume.
“Such a good sluttly little maid,” Kaibara praised and degraded. His hands tighten almost painfully in your hair. “Taking my big cock so easily... Don’t tell me you’ve been practicing on other men.”
You make a noise that screams no.
You would never!
“Oh, no?” Kaibara grunts, his tongue licking out past his lips, and you shudder under his gaze. “Did my slutty fucking maid keep her mouth clean for me?”
You whine in approval, your lungs burning as he keeps you still on his cock, eyes deceivingly angry.
“Good… that just means I’ll have to fuck your whore pussy so good you’ll never ask or seek a  new master,” Kaibara grinned, and your eyes widened. 
It happened so fast, you were on the ground one second, and in the next, he had you pinned with your back against the table. It was almost uncomfortable, the edge of the table pressing into your spine, and your hands scrambled to latch onto his shirt as his jeans fell to his knees and his hands gripped the top of your maid outfit down, exposing your naked breasts. 
His hands found a place on your breasts, warm and calloused fingers moving against smooth, soft skin. You moaned loudly, hips twitching unconsciously as he brushed against the swell of your nipple. 
“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” Kaibara groaned, fingers pinching roughly against your skin, and you warbled a scream. It wasn’t painful; it was pleasurable. Your head swam in a way it never had before when you had serviced other men, your clit was throbbing with an increase of needed attention, and your voice keened with his praise. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted you — wanted this. I wanna make you feel so good, let your master fuck you however I want, y/l/n, I promise I’ll make it worth it.”
You nod your head, words failing you, and you watched Kaibara let out a heavy stream of air out of his nose, a near perverted, happy grin on his face.
“Say it.”
“Fuck me, Kaibara-sama,” you whisper, hands fisting into his shirt. “Ruin me. Claim me. Make me yours.”
His eyes flash dangerously.
“You were never not mine.”
And with a hand looping underneath your knee and with the sudden shove on your shoulder to knock you back, Kaibara pressed his cock against your wet, sopping entrance and shoved into you. You scream loudly, hands digging into his back as his cock enters you, unforgiving and demanding. Your legs wrap around his waist, heels digging into his hips as you shudder and shake, body twitching under the dull, hot stretch of him in you, your body sweating with the consuming heat and pleasure that his entrance gives you.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” you squeal, fingernails digging into his skin, face burying into his neck. “Kaibara-sama is so big, he’s stretching me out so much, I’m— I can’t—”
Kaibara clicks his tongue, his nose nuzzling into your cheek, “Don’t say that, y/l/n-chan. Don’t ever tell your master that you can’t. You can do anything so long as I ask of it, right? I don’t like the word can’t.”
You whimper, head nodding in understanding as you shift your hips partly for needed friction, partly for relief. 
“Stop that,” Kaibara orders, hands suddenly on your hips, preventing you from moving. “Ask permission from your master if you can move. You are here to serve me; you are not here for yourself. Do you understand?”
Your breathing is heavy, your legs shaking as you nod, breathlessly saying that you agree even though you need relief. You need to please your master; you have to make sure he continues to want your service: just you, no one else.
“Good girl,” he praises and somehow pushes even further into you.
You moan loudly at the movement, fingers digging into his skin yet again, and Kaibara laughed, teeth nipping at your collarbone. Your back is entirely arched, jaw slacked, voice dead on your tongue because the feeling of him buried deep within you is staggering. You let out a single happy noise, your mouth gasping for breath as your voice finally begins to come back to you.
“So tight, so hot,” Kaibara groans, his teeth dragging up and down your neck as his hips roll back and thrust back into you at his own pace. It’s steady, slow almost—a steady beat like a subtle heartbeat that kept you sane. “Don’t be quiet… I want to hear what I do to you; I want everyone to hear what I do to you.”
And a hand pinches your clit at the same time he slams roughly, with tremendous strength into you, and you wail.
It’s as if that wail was a starting sound, the sound that told Kaibara that he was in the clear to do whatever he wanted. To fuck you as he deemed, to make you fulfill your duty to providing and exceeding his every need and demand. He fucked into you, each snap of his hip, every roll, sending loud slaps through the room. The table creaked and shifted with every advancing move, and you rolled your hips up, fucking back into him, desperate to make his breath hitch and hiss in pleasure. His teeth buried into your skin, sucking and nibbling marks onto your skin, subtle and near bloody marks to show the world that you were his.
“Kaibara-sama!” you scream at a particular thrust, back arching wildly, eyes slamming shut as you moan to the heavens. “Kiss me please! Please kiss me—”
Kaibara’s mouth was over yours immediately. You cried into his mouth, shuddering and shaking as he continued his maddening dance with you, the endless, exciting cycle of tingling sensations and exploding warmth. His tongue entered your mouth, tasting of him, iron, and sweat. You moan louder, your velvet walls clenching and milking against his length. You don’t want to ever pull out; you want him, his seed, everything.
He kisses you like a madman, someone who believed that if he stopped, he would die.
You eat it up, returning it in full, unable to even believe you want him to stop. 
“You drive me fucking insane,” Kaibara pants, hands coming back down to your hips and keeping them in place as he suddenly, powerfully, and somehow rhythmically pounding into you in short, strong fucks. 
It’s overwhelming, the feeling of his girth stretching you out and abandoning you so quickly, the way his tip licks against your cervix, teasing up against your sweet spot. His face is desperate, needing, and so powerful that you cry to him, your master, your god. Your pussy is soaked with your essence, the sex spilling it all-around your thighs and on him, the wet squelching pounding making you embarrassed and so much more turned on. His teeth sink into your jaw, and your body is begging, twitching, the heat in your stomach overwhelming and no longer building but waiting for it to be unleashed. 
“K-Kaibara-sama!” you cry, a warning for the near-inevitable.
But you wail his name, the electricity in your veins and blood scorching the levels of your skin, and Kaibara takes that as a reason to do more, to fuck more. He drills into you at a new speed, a new power. Your head is swimming in the delirium, and your body trembles, the words “more, faster, harder” spilling from your mouth without consent, but tears build in your eyes as his fingers seem to almost spin against your clit and you scream.
You cum loudly, aggressively, all your energy destroyed as you hit the high. Kaibara moans against your bruised and marked skin; the warmth heat of spilling seed expelling into your cunt is a sensation that drives you insane as he collapses his weight on top of you. You’re breathless, speechless, a part of you unable to comprehend that your crush had fucked you before he had kissed you, that he was the best fuck you had, and how this man wanted you back.
It’s quiet for a bit, the two of you laying on the table as cum dripped out of your cunt, and he rested his head between your exposed breasts.
“So,” you finally rasp, a soft grin coming onto your face. “You have my charger?”
-
“18000 yen?!” Kaibara barked, eyebrows furrowed as he stared at the older lady at the counter who was billing him for his session.
“We are a sex club, Kaibara-sama,” she sighed. “Not only did you have a three-hour session with our most requested maid, but you also marked the merchandise.”
“I couldn’t?!” Kaibara snapped but cooled down almost immediately when the lady pointed at a: ‘Fines for every mark on the maids!!!!’ sign. “Oh.”
“Take it from my paycheck,” you sing from beside him, bundled up in a coat, the marks he gave you completely hidden now. It was the end of your shift and closing time, after all. “I got him riled up without telling him the rules.”
Kaibara chuckled as you arranged a proper check for him.
He thought about what he thought of his life, and while he couldn’t say that his life wasn’t a hentai right now, he knew, without a doubt, that life is not a shoujo manga.
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lacharcutiere · 3 years
Text
still [sawamura daichi]
1,6k words
previous | masterlist | next ➪
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part eight of i’m gone i’m gone i’m gone miniseries. you can only put these things off for so long.
JST: japanese standard time (GMT +9). EST: eastern standard time (GMT -5). EDT: eastern daylight time (GMT -4).
tings // fluff, a little bit of angst, kinda suggestive at the end ?? // i swear this søng is abøut eating øut my best friend's pussy - cøzybøy // dm, ask or comment to be added to taglist ! minors dni.
☾𓆙𓂻
— JAPAN, SUMMER 2024.
the summer passes like this: you and daichi laughing too loudly in busy restaurants and train cars; having arms around each other in the back of taxis on the way home from clubs; making instant udon at three a.m.; walking up and down the neighborhood a hundred times; laying silently side by side and not needing to say anything. it's a routine, it's familiar—it's home.
a couple weeks before you're set to head back to new york, daichi asks you a question as you lay next to him on a blanket in your driveway, staring up at the stars.
"have you decided what your plans are after college?"
"i'm gonna come back here."
"i thought you wanted to go to grad school? you can do way better in the states, especially with a degree from columbia."
you roll onto your side so you can look at him better. "i know. but i've been away too long already. i miss you."
he gives you a little smile. "but i'm right here."
"right here is pretty fucking far from america."
"hm."
"hm."
that's the end of the conversation.
— 2 AUGUST 2024. 23:09 JST.
everything happens the exact same way it has for the past three years: he takes you to the airport. you try hard not to cry; you say your goodbyes. check-in, security, buy some candy to eat at the gate. board the plane. sixteen hours later, you're in america.
one thing was different, though.
when he said goodbye, his lips touched yours.
you don't stop thinking about it for weeks.
☾𓆙𓂻
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— AUGUST TO NOVEMBER 2024.
slightly relieving is the fact that amid thesis writing and too many classes and working an internship under one of your professors (that one's nice, it even earns you enough to get a small apartment a few blocks from campus), there proves to be little time to be spent missing daichi.
you finesse your schedule to fit weekly facetimes on friday evenings (new york time) and shoot random texts back and forth about your day between classes and during meals, and without much space for anything else, it's enough. good things are worth waiting for, anyway.
— DECEMBER 2024.
but then winter sem break rolls around and there's no school so it's back to having too much lonely alone time with your thoughts. you write daichi a christmas card and drop it off at the post office. it's early this year, but oh, well.
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☾𓆙𓂻
a week before christmas you receive a call from an unknown number. the phone speaker crackles when you accept the call.
“hello?”
“hey.” the voice on the other end is bright, smiley, accented. it’s tōru.
“tōru? what’s up?”
“i’m outside,” he says, “come down and meet me?”
you’re a little confused, but you decide to humor him. “uh, okay, give me a minute… do i need anything?”
“bring a coat, it’s cold out. i’ll be waiting down here.” the call ends.
a few minutes later you push through the doors of the building to be met with a brisk wind and tōru standing by a payphone, grinning.
“do you have your subway pass?”
you feel inside your pocket for it and nod.
“good,” he says. “come on, we’re in a hurry.”
“where are we going?”
“downtown.”
“ohhkay?”
he laughs. “‘s not anything you won’t like, promise.”
you follow him into the nearest subway entrance, lost in thought as you push through the barrier and step onto the train. it's only when he nudges you and says, "this is our stop," that you realize you've been looking at the ground the whole time.
tōru notices how absent you seem to be and asks, "are you okay?"
"i would be if i knew what was going on," you respond.
"yeah," he says, leading you up the stairs and into the terminal, "yeah, i think you will be."
you're in grand central. tōru asks if he can borrow your phone for a second. when he hands it back to you, he doesn't say anything, just takes you by the arm smiling widely and leads you into the fray of commuters that fill the station.
"tōru!" you groan, "can't you just tell me where we're going?"
"magnolia," he replies simply.
"we came all the way here just for coffee?"
"mhm."
"tōru!" he stops walking and turns back to you, trying and failing miserably to stop grinning for a second. "what the fuck?"
"come on," he says, "you'll like it."
"we've been here before! what's so special about—"
"you'll see."
☾𓆙𓂻
coffee in grand central is surprisingly good. it's also surprisingly expensive. ah, well, it's new york. new york has much more to offer than just overpriced cafés.
such as... this. such as a laughing man that leads a remarkably pissed-off looking girl by the arm, towards this stupidly good, stupidly overpriced café.
the pair are weaving through a stream of people, almost there, and then they're there, and the girl is looking much less agitated now. she looks somewhere between crying and wanting to run in the opposite direction. thank god, she chooses the former.
he loves you. so much.
☾𓆙𓂻
"daichi?" you mean it to be a scream but your voice cracks a little and it comes out airy.
he has the exact same look on his face that tōru's had this whole time. "hi."
"oh my god, what the fuck?"
"you said it was lonely, tōru told me maybe it would be nice for you to have a date for new year's, i had some extra money saved up. so i came."
"you— what?" you look back at tōru. "you planned this? just? last minute?"
"nah," daichi laughs, "no, i meant to come visit you for christmas a while ago. i already had tickets and everything, i was gonna tell you but then i got your card and figured it might be more fun if it were a surprise."
"oh my god." that's all you can think to say.
— CHRISTMAS 2024.
you can't even explain how good it feels to wake up and walk into the living room to find daichi asleep on your couch on christmas morning, how good it feels for it to not just be you. the whole time he's been here, though, you've forced yourself not to think about the fact that he's going back home in a week and a half, forced yourself not to do anything just yet. soon, though. just a few more months.
☾𓆙𓂻
when he wakes up, you're making coffee for the two of you.
"merry christmas," he says, wrapping one arm around your shoulders. he places a card on the counter in front of you. "open it."
its message is simple.
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you do as it says.
"i, uh, haven't gotten you anything yet, but—"
"daichi," you laugh, "it's okay. and um, i may have also not been able to get you anything. also because i didn't know you'd be here."
"wait, wait, i'm not finished."
"okay?"
"what do you want to do after you're done this year of school?"
"i already told you," you say, "i'll move back home."
"no, what do you want to do? you want to go to grad school, right? continue studying here?"
"no, i just want to stop waiting." you sigh, a little frustrated. "i don't wanna have to keep putting this off, it's been—"
he cuts you off. "i'll be here."
"huh?"
"i'll be here. or wherever."
"i don't get it?"
you've always loved the way daichi's nose scrunches up when he smiles. "you're the one planning on studying more, not me. not immediately, anyway. i'll go with you."
"daichi."
"what?"
"you're fucking joking."
he laughs; you look so confused right now. "i'm not. promise."
"i don't even—"
"hey."
"hm?"
"think you can handle long-distance for five months?"
"uh—" you inhale sharply. "yeah."
"good," he says, "then we don't have to keep putting this off."
it's been five months since you last let your lips touch his. it still feels just like the first time it happened.
— 31 DECEMBER, 2023. 19:36 EST.
he tries not to let you pay for dinner, but in the end, you slip the waiter your card while daichi's in the bathroom. it's his birthday; it's your treat.
and after dinner, there's that new year's eve party that tōru's been going on about. it feels good, so good, not to be there alone. it feels good to watch the broadcast from downtown and count the seconds to midnight as daichi's arms are wrapped around you from behind. the clock reaches zero; daichi kisses you hard. you're both drunk on champagne.
you watch him smile across the room at tōru, who's got his girl on his arm. the two of them look happy, too. everything is warm.
— DEPARTURE: 3 JANUARY 2025. 08:15 EST.
daichi's asleep next to you when the alarm on his phone goes off. you'll miss not waking up next to him for the next five months, but at least that's all it will be.
he makes faces at you in the mirror as you both brush your teeth; keeps trying to tug your sweater off when you get dressed. you spend these thirty minutes laughing with him until it hurts. the two of you take the subway back to grand central; make out in a corner of the terminal while he waits for his train to jfk international to arrive.
"see you in may."
— 21 JANUARY 2025.
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taglist: @sakruisin-thru @softetsurou @oligbia
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thecampbellfam · 3 years
Text
Alright, the infamous birth story is ready to be shared. A heads up that there are aspects of this story that are TMI (too much information) so read at your own risk. Birth can be messy. ;) It’s a long read so buckle up.
For the week leading up to D’s birth I experienced mild contractions and cramping. Baby was very low in my pelvis and my midwife said at my 38 week appointment that she anticipated me birthing prior to my 39 week appointment (spoiler alert: she was right!). On Sunday, March 21st I woke up to mild contractions. The contractions continued every 3-10 minutes from 6:30-9:30am. These abruptly stopped when the boys came in the bedroom and needed my help and attention while Nic had a shower. During the 3 hours of contractions I made the decision to cancel a lash extension appointment that I had later that day. I texted my housemate and friend, M, to see if she was free to help me power through the open jar orders that I had in case the labour picked up again.
I had a long lull between contractions so decided to capitalize on that time. M and I finished jar orders. I packed all the orders up and scheduled a Canada Post pick up for the next day. I baked myself some lactation cookies. And Nic and I cleaned the bathroom, did the dishes, washed laundry, put last minute items in the hospital bag, organized a few areas of the house, and kept the kids occupied. I had the odd contraction here or there but nothing consistent or overly painful.
By 4pm I was tired and decided to lay down. I looked up something called the Mile’s Circuit and decided to try out the recommended rest positions while I had a nap. The positions in the Mile’s Circuit are known to help reposition baby if they’re sitting off in your pelvis. This seemed to work because by 4:30pm I was having regular contractions again. Contractions were irregular in length and time between, but were coming. This continued ALL evening. The contractions started to get a bit more painful as the evening went on but were never rhythmic enough or painful enough to transfer to the hospital. I was in touch with my doula and midwife who confirmed the same information.
By 11:30pm I was exhausted, discouraged, and the contractions were beginning to get a bit more painful (though still irregular in length and time between). At midnight my doula, K, headed over. She was my saving grace. She encouraged me to labour in a few different positions, took me for a curb walk in the rain, and helped prop me up with pillows when I got tired in a way that would keep my pelvis open while I laid down. I asked her when I should head to the hospital and she said that though the contractions were strong, they were not quite rhythmic enough and I was still too coherent between them.
But at around 1:30am everything changed. I had 3-4 huge contractions laying down and then got up to use the washroom. There I entirely lost my mucus plug (up till that point I had had zero bloody show or fluid loss). I called out for K to tell her about the mucus plug, then stood up and immediately vomited excessively. I told K that we needed to leave now! Nic had been resting and quickly got up to help me to the car. Thankfully I’d had him load up the majority of our hospital items a few hours earlier *just in case* things went quickly.
By 1:54am we were on the road to the hospital with K trailing closely behind. We turned onto the main road and I had a big contraction that I couldn’t speak through while my midwife was trying to call me. When the contraction ended she said she’d meet me at the entrance of the ER. We passed a bridge and I reclined my seat as I had another massive contraction. With this one I started yelling in pain. My body was experiencing fetal ejection reflex and was trying to push baby out while I was simultaneously trying to fight to keep baby in. The feeling of fighting your own body’s urges is one I’ll never ever forget. After that contraction was an odd lull and for a moment I thought we’d make it to the hospital. However, the next contraction hit just as we were passing the pedestrian overpass along the Bypass. I yelled “Uh oh! Uh ohhh! <words I can’t repeat> Nic you need to pull over NOW!” He quickly pulled over, gestured for K to come to the car, and reached to help me. I was fully clothed and frantically needed help pulling my pants down. We got them down just enough as K came to my side. K saw that baby was crowning and with one big push she was out. K was there just in time to catch her. So at 2:05am baby girl was brought up to my chest and Nic and K quickly grabbed whatever they could from the backseat of the car to keep baby warm. A towel and Nic’s infamous highlighter yellow hoodie were the winners. K helped rub baby down to ensure she was warm and checked that she was breathing. From there we impulsively decided to continue on driving. We were in a place that would have taken an ambulance some time to get to plus it was 2am so there was nobody on the roads. I had something called Marginal Cord Insertion which can cause hemorrhaging with the birth of the placenta so I was keen to get to the hospital as soon as possible. Baby on my chest, cord still pulsing and placenta intact, and onward to the hospital we continued. It ended up being the calmest ride and I kept remarking at how amazing it was to have her out while Nic kept commenting on how insane and badass this all was. The relief of having baby girl out was incredible. I’ve been asked a lot if I have trauma from the car birth and I honestly don’t. It was such a relief to have baby out and that she and I were healthy.
We pulled up the hospital shortly after and were greeted by our midwife and a team of nurses ready with a wheelchair, warm towels and blankets. They helped me out of the car and then wheeled us up to the delivery floor. I was greeted by a lot of surprised and impressed nurses. Baby and I got checked over, the cord was cut, and I birthed the placenta. I was stitched up and then we spent a couple hours in the birthing room for monitoring. Afterwards we were transferred to a maternity room and spent a quiet morning and early afternoon snuggling baby girl, having cat naps, watching the sun come up, and even sneaking in a shower. Our short hospital stay was so calm and relaxing so I’m glad we weren’t discharged as early as I was initially hoping. Given that it was baby #3 for us the nursing staff really only came in to go over what’s required and we were largely left alone. Baby and I were deemed healthy and we were discharged at 2:30pm.
We took our time heading home to give my sister time to be there first. She photographed our oldest meeting his brother for the first time and offered to do the same when we brought baby girl home. The photos from both of these photoshoots are cherished and I’m beyond grateful for my sister making the time to capture them.
A few fun facts:
* I selfishly didn’t want to share my birthday with baby girl. Shared birthdays can be tricky and I wanted her birthdate to be her own. She was born 5 days after my birthday allowing us both our own days. I had told Nic that I wanted to be done having kids by 30 so her arriving 5 days past my 30th was pretty bang on.
* Midway through my pregnancy my midwife recommended that I pack an “if I birth in the car” kit for the car, given how quick my active labours were with my last two births. This recommendation put a bug in my ear that my baby could be born in the car.
* A week and a bit before baby girl was born I sobbed listened to a Birth Hour episode about a car birth. I often tear up listening to birth stories but this particular story struck me differently.
* Our doula knew things weren’t going great on the hospital drive because Nic kept slowing down and speeding up (which correlated with my contractions).
* Many have asked about how Nic’s car fared in the birth. This is wild. When Nic got home from work on Saturday he let the boys come out and play in the car for a few minutes with him. Our younger son accidentally left the passenger door open a crack. Not enough to drain the battery but enough for the passenger seat to get absolutely soaked in the overnight downpour. Nic saw that the seat was wet when he loaded up the car with hospital bags and put one of our (new) thick towels on the seat so that my butt wouldn’t get wet. When I was transferred to a wheelchair at the ER entrance, Nic lifted the towel and the seat was COMPLETELY DRY AND CLEAN!
* Baby girl was born at the perfect time. Nic was on his weekend, our housemates were free to watch the boys, K was available to attend the birth and my sister was free to photograph the boys meeting their sister.
* Registering baby’s birth was fun. I had to call up Vital Statistics who had to look on a map to figure out the postal code for the area that I birthed in, since she wasn’t born at a fixed address.
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sylvie-writes · 4 years
Text
Bad: The Unfortunate Ending
Inspired by this song ➳ Bad by Lennon Stella
(Ransom Drysdale x wife reader)
A/n: this is my first attempt at angst so here we go... 
Disclaimer: not part of my fall writing, this is just a lil something bc I needed to write, it makes me happier after days as today. 
Warnings: Cheating, mild profanity, shitty angst & writing. Ransom being an asshole (rip all the soft Ransom stories I’ve written)
Series Masterlist
Never in a thousand years would you have seen yourself sitting in Boston’s most expensive and high end restaurant, a steak simmering at 500 degrees laying out in front of you, and the Ransom Drysdale sweetly smiling at you.
“Wait, before you start eating, I have something to ask you, love.” 
Was he gonna break up with you?
Ransom reached over his plate to reach your hand gently bringing it to his lips while maintaining eye contact with your shocked expression, soon calming.
Oh whew.
The man then set down your hand, and folded up the napkin in his lap before rounding the table, getting down on one knee. Your eyes were already welling up with tears, making it impossible to see all the people staring at you and Ransom.
“(y/n) (l/n)...
… … ...
Will you marry me?” 
After his adoring speech, the four little words came out and the man on his knee was staring up at you like you were a goddess. Overwhelmed, you happily spewed out the words of acknowledgement while Ransom slipped the lavish diamond onto your ring finger, kissing the now ringed finger before scooping you up from your chair, the two of you in a deep kiss amidst the cheers.
A few months later the two of you got married, and everything was a dream. You had a lovely house, and a husband who was practically your closest friend. The two of you spent all your time together, told every joke, talked all the time. Believe or not but Mr. Fancy Pants had preferred that you got married sooner rather than having an extravagant wedding ceremony. 
So that's what you did. One lovely Monday morning, you and Ransom drove to the courthouse, in the beamer, as if it were just any other day. 
You thought then and there, that this was it. Life was finally playing in your favor...
 All the little gifts you gave
I call it over compensating
Feeling just like a princess
Every answer was always yes
You had me living in a dream
 “Oh Ransom!” You played with the little puppy down at your feet, a red ribbon adoring it’s small, yet fluffy neck.The little thing jumped into your arms, causing you to lift off the floor, walking closer to Ransom. 
“Why did you get me a puppy, Hugh?” 
He just cheekily smiled and shrugged, walking by to kiss your cheek. “No reason!” 
You just laughed it off before going outside to play fetch with the energetic fur baby. 
Ransom always treated you for no reason, at times you really hated him for it, but not once would he ever let up.
About four months into your marriage, Harlan had invited you and Ransom to some writer’s charity gala, a black and white party, meaning Ransom was gonna rent a tux and you’d find an overly priced yet attractive dress. 
So, one Saturday afternoon, you and Ransom went to the mall, getting fitted for your clothes. You weren’t about the name brands like Ransom was, but today, Ransom now had full advantage to shower you in expensive clothing having already picked his tux yesterday. His sneaky little plan to go dress shopping with you.
“What about this one?” Your husband held up a black slip dress designed by Prada. Curiously you walked up to him, checking the tag to see its $1,000 price. In all honesty, from the looks of the dress, you had assumed Ransom picked up a simple dress. Sure, it was pretty but you weren’t about to pay that much just for the name. For what it is worth, you could sew and tailor the damn thing yourself. 
“That’s ridiculous, Ransom. I’m not about to pay that much.” 
You went to go walk off before you felt Ransom’s hot breath in your ear.
“Who said you were paying?”
Turning around, you playfully pushed him in the chest to which he laughed and peppered kisses all over your face.
“Ransom! Stop, you’re making a scene!”
He pulled away for a minute, your giggles ceasing.
“Let me treat you and I will stop.”
Quickly, the man resumed his attack, your pleas soon becoming words of compliance.
“Fine!”
His signature smirk danced across his lips, while his free arm snaked around your waist ushering you to the tailor’s stand. 
 What's forever long to you
Did you say that to her too
Making sure that I'd never know
Callin her while the shower goes
 It was a little after midnight and Ransom wasn’t home yet, today he had been out with some friends, not inviting you. Your only company for the day was your precious little puppy, who was curled up against your stomach. The endless worry had kept you up all night as you mindlessly stroked the puppy’s back, trying to calm your own nerves.
Eventually, an hour later, the hallway light shone under the door, Ransom coming in. He was met with your worried look and came to rush over to your side.
“You scared me to death, Ransom. Two hours ago, you were supposed to be back!” 
“I know. I know. I’m so sorry baby. Now, get some sleep, I love you. Forever, my love.”
Ransom gently pulled the blanket over you, kissing you goodnight, then heading off to shower.
Turning on the shower, Ransom pulled the phone out of his pocket, scrolling to the bottom of his contacts and dialing, Blair❤️. 
“Hey baby, today was amazing Ranny!”
A deep chuckle left Ransom’s throat, the woman on the phone giggling.
“I know, angel. You are the best, love ya forever, Sweetheart.” 
Blair continued to gush over the phone, recalling the earlier events of the day at her house where Ransom had spent the whole day. (leaving that sentence to the eye of the beholder.)
Shower, and you, long forgotten, Ransom spent the rest of the night talking to the woman, leaving the bedroom to go downstairs, assuming you were already asleep.
Ironically, that night, you dreamt of all the times you and Ransom would stay up just talking and laughing...
Then crawl back in bed, it's a shame
I probably should've known better
I probably should've known better
 It was 4 am, and Blair had fallen asleep on the phone, leaving Ransom to bid her goodbye and get some shut eye himself. 
It was like sleeping next to a stranger, the warmth of the bed now gone. Coldness, replacing the loving embrace.
About two months ago, your work gave its employees a week off for the holidays. It was once in a blue moon that you got to see your family, so you seized this opportunity. You wished your husband could have come, but Ransom had to stay behind to help Harlan with an upcoming novel. In truth, Ransom never saw himself reverting back to his bad ways, but who knows what entices people to change.
One night, Ransom went out for a drink, a young lady, about twenty-seven years old, came up to the sulking man. He was drowning his sorrows in a couple of beers, wishing he were there with you. Oh how he missed you!
“Hey stranger.”
The sultry voice hit too close to home for Ransom, a voice he knew all too well.
And let’s just say a few drinks later, he came to remember his old fling as Blair.
 I wish that you would've treated me bad
The truth is you couldn't have loved me better
Now I'm left feeling twice as sad
I wish you would've treated me bad bad bad
It felt like you were living a hallmark movie, and never would you have thought any different.
Your feet were propped on the Ransom’s lap as the two of you laid down Uno cards on the coffee table. 
“Ransom?”
“Yes, darling?”
You set the Uno cards in your lap, adjusting on the couch so that you’d be straddling Ransom. The man brightly smiling at you, enveloping you with his muscular arms. In complete bliss, you leaned forward and kissed him, a slow and intimate kiss. Time completely stopped as you were just in your own little world. 
He treated you so well, you’d never be prepared for the heartbreak that’d ensue. 
 I wasn't catching on to you
Blinded by your lips so smooth
Excusing all of your gotta goes
Leaving me to be all alone
 “Do you really have to go, Ransom?” 
Your arms were wrapped around the man’s neck, pleading for him to stay. A small frown made a way onto his lips before he leaned in to kiss you deeply, pulling away from your lips while you were still trying to catch up. 
“I gotta go.”
With that, he rushed out. A business meeting was it? Or was it Harlan? You couldn’t remember. For the past two months, you’ve been accepting all of his excuses, soon all of them blending, yet in the end you were always left standing in the house, alone with your dog.
It's okay, you told yourself. Sure he forgot your birthday last month. It’s fine.
As long as he didn't forget your wedding anniversary next month, everything would be fine…
Right?
 Then you took my heart just the same
I probably should've known better
I probably should've known better
 No it wasn’t fine. He forgot your anniversary. He forgot you. In the mornings, he’d no longer stay with you, instead finding an excuse to rush out, no kisses, not even hugs, Rarely did the two of you talk and soon, it became your new normal.
You should’ve known better.
 Every word you said you was sweet but you was lying
Everything you covered making up just to keep to me from crying
Another late night, Ransom had gone to help his mother at some dinner party for her business, or so he said. He left early this morning, claiming he was gonna help set up and that he’d be home by 8. Yet, here you are, watching the 11 o’clock news, waiting for your husband’s arrival since he had left you with radio silence all day.
Suddenly, the door flew open, a sloppily dressed Ransom, stumbling in, clearly piss-ass drunk.
“Oh you're awake!”
You walked over to help him sit on the couch, just as you were about to turn off the lamp beside the couch, you noticed a tint of red lipstick on Ransom’s lips. You hadn’t worn any lipstick today, right?
Tenderly, you traced your thumb over his lips, as his eyes gazed into yours.
“Ransom, what’s on your lips?”
In a poor attempt, Ransom went to grab your hand, missing and instead grabbing your shoulder, leaning in to kiss you, instead getting your ear. 
“It’s nothing, (y/n).” 
His head was laying on your shoulder, as he was about to fall asleep, his energy suddenly gone.
“Really? It seems like something, you have a woman’s lipstick on your lips for god sake!”
Ransom then perked up and hugged you tightly, whispering reassuring words to you. Drunkenly, his words mashed together, causing you to barely understand his “comforting” speech. 
“I love you so much, sweetheart, I’d never do that to you.”
Sweetheart, a name once reserved for you, now unknowingly shared with another woman.
Believing his lies, because why not? He had never given you a reason not to trust him, not yet anyway.
 I wish that you would've treated me bad
The truth is you couldn't have loved me better
Now I'm left feeling twice as sad
I wish you would've treated me bad bad bad
 That very next week, Ransom had to leave once again, this time a boys’ trip to the club. You thought nothing of it, now used to his absence, keeping to yourself with the dog and some friends.
Later that afternoon, you were enjoying a sandwich and lemonade out on the front porch when a Maseratti pulled into the driveway, a familiar man stepping out.
“(y/n)! Is Ransom home?”
The man pulled you into an embrace, leaving you confused at his presence.
“Why are you here Oliver? Ransom said he was out with you and James.”
Oliver just shrugged his shoulders, he too jumping to the same conclusion. At this point you were just seeing red, storming into the house, Oliver following. You practically were stomping holes into the hallway for your footsteps were as heavy as your heart. Maybe all along you had been suspicious deep inside, maybe you just never wanted to believe it.
Then finding Ransom’s phone in his nightstand, you came back into the doorway to meet Oliver. If your suspicions were true, you’d like to at least embarrass the dumbass in front of his friend. They all knew he was a playboy at heart, but after you, every one had assumed he’d matured somewhat. 
Clearly, they were all wrong.
Your husband was the biggest idiot in the world, making his password your anniversary date, for he was so forgetful. You found this hilarious, because he forgot your first wedding anniversary, god you were so naive. 
Was this wrong? Sleuthing through his phone?
Sure. But it could never equal up to what you were about to find. 
Opening text messages, 50 unread, all from you, your messages definitely ignored as a woman named Blair was at the top of his messages. 
You gagged at the heart by her name, one that used to be by yours. Scrolling through the texts, you found yourself growing angrier by the minute, finally, you just lost it. With great vehemence, you slammed the phone against the floor, making it shatter everywhere, Oliver and your dog, slightly jumping.
It was then that it hit you.
You crashed to the floor, crying hysterically, as the world came crashing down with you. Oliver, crouching down on the floor, trying to calm your sobs.
Tonight you were gonna confront that backstabbing, no good, cheating son of a bitch.
 Tell me the truth
Was it worth it was I worth it for you
'Cause we were perfect we working til you
Forgot to tell me you been seeing someone else for six years
It was 9 pm and you hadn’t expected Ransom’s arrival for another hour or two, so you spent the time packing your bags and drinking some coffee, preparing yourself to tear the man a new one. 
This time, there wasn’t a slammed door signaling Ransom’s presence, rather soft footsteps and his low voice, like the old days.
Ha, the one time he gets home early. Ehh you were ready anyway
“Hey babe! Oooh can I have some?”
Before you could answer, Ransom took your mug and a few swigs of coffee, handing it back to you, placing a kiss on your head. In utter surprise, you looked up at the man who just smiled down at you.
“You look I haven’t kissed you in weeks, my love.”
And with that he pecked your lips quickly, walking to the counter, you still trying to process what had just happened. 
It was true. He hadn’t kissed you in weeks.
No, you weren’t gonna let him win this time.
“It’s because you haven’t.”
Confusion swirled around on Ransom’s face, allowing you to continue.
“You haven’t kissed me in weeks. But you have kissed Blair, I'm sure.” 
The coffee mug in his hand dropped onto his foot, shattering, leaving you smirking at the small victory.
Heartbreak can make one go insane. Afterall, you are losing the one person you loved most, losing yourself along with them. 
“For months I have put up with your bullshit…” 
A good ten minutes passed of you yelling at Ransom, the man unexpectedly letting you finish.
“You’re a cheating, son of a bitch.”
Angrily, you ripped off the wedding ring, now noticing Ransom wasn’t even wearing his, for god knows how long too. Once upon a time, he’d proudly wear it all the time.
“(y/n) wait--”
Ransom grabbed your arm before you slapped him, the man slightly stunned.
“No. I’m tired of your excuses, I’m tired of letting you win. You and Brittany, should have an amazing life together, that is if you can even commit to her like you told me.”
A whisper of defeat left his mouth.
“It’s Blair…”
“The hell with it! You broke my heart Ransom! I knew it was too fucking good to be true. DAMN IT, I LOVED YOU.”
Hysterically laughing, you looked like a mad woman, lowering your voice just a bit.
“You know what makes this hurt 2x worse? I thought you had actually loved me too, because it seemed like it.”
You broke into tears, your heart in a thousand pieces, rushing away to grab your bags, Ransom not even trying to fight, knowing you're too strong this time. He let the best thing that ever happened to him slip away. 
Ages ago you could remember the lovely times with the man you once would die for, yet...
Your love was just an illusion. 
 I wish that you would've treated me bad
The truth is you couldn't have loved me better
Now I'm left feeling twice as sad
I wish you would've treated me bad bad bad
I wish that you would've treated me bad
Truth is you couldn't have loved me better
Now I'm left feeling twice as sad
I wish you would've treated me bad bad bad
a/n: maybe i should stay away from angst bc this sucked.
Updated a/n: this is gonna be a series! If you’d like to be on the taglist lemme know!!
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natexarnoult · 2 years
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hey all!! my name is mads and i’m 23, use she/her pronouns, and live in mst! i’m so excited for y’all to meet nathan - he’s a char i’ve had in mind for a while and i’m stoked to finally bring him to life! i’ve included some main points about him under the cut, along with his bio and a couple extras for him - please message me if you’d like to plot :D 
Nathan comes from a single-mother household... at least, until he was in high school.
Nate knows who his father is and is trying to build a relationship w/ the man but is still hurt from his mother hiding his father’s identity & not hiding the truth.
He is very much a ‘trust-fund’ kid but is working hard to distant himself from his parents’ wealth and build a name that isn’t connected to his parents.
Nathan truly is a sweetheart but has a hard time expressing this to those he cares about - he grew up in a home that wasn’t welcoming to affection and is still trying to break this habit.
He’s been in Heartsdale for several years and I’m so open to creating some pre-existing connections with him! Friends, ex friends, exes, enemies - anything! Please just message me so we can chat :)
He graduated from UCLA with an art history degree but is more interested in actually making art than learning about it - he travels a lot as he likes to make his show room diverse and brings in pieces from all around the country.
Nathan lives above his gallery but spends most of his time outside of both his gallery and his apartment - it’s either a midlife crisis and he regrets his choices or he’s just trying to meet new friends, who knows?
His pinterest is here and is constantly being update; please follow me if you feel so inclined!
Annnnnd: bio here as well:
Nate’s parents met while his father was on a school trip. A senior studying art history at Harvard, he’d taken the trip as an excuse to ‘see the world’ - if that world meant England, sure. His mother was the manager at a museum they visited on the trip & his father found himself returning to her canvas filled institute daily. They spent hours talking, sharing their love of paintings and critiquing some of the pieces her museum had chosen to display. Neither of them wanted to admit that their time together would be coming to a close - his trip was only for 3 weeks over the winter holidays - but on his last day in the country, Nathan’s father left a note within her bedside drawer, his address and phone number scrawled sloppily across a spare receipt & he snuck out before the sun was up. Saying goodbye would be too hard.
He returned to the States. He graduated. He got a job. He went years without hearing from the woman he’d met. One day, when his father was leaving The Met - he’d become a director of programs - his eye landed on a woman who looked so familiar, her hand clutched by a child, no older than 10. That moment was Nate’s first memory of his dad.
He remembers sitting in his dad’s house, a wide and bright space that was 20 minutes from where they’d met on those huge steps. This man had given them a ride and was now setting tea in front of his mother, but Nate was playing with his dog. He remembers snippets of the conversation - his mom was apologizing a lot. Apparently she hadn’t wanted to see him. They were in the States to visit her sister, Nate’s aunt. He remembers that this man kept looking between his mom and him & he looked so confused. Finally, he remembers a silence falling over the room and the man asked a question. Nate couldn’t make it out but his mother’s response was clear, definite; “Yes. He’s yours.”
At the time, Nate had no idea what that meant. He hadn’t yet been given the talk and his mother didn’t explain her relationship to this man. She introduced him - Nathan couldn’t remember his name - and said that he was an old friend from college. But soon, he found himself with this man more often. His mother invited him to join them at his aunt’s birthday party. When they flew back home to England, his mother would often be stuck on the phone with her old friend from college. One day, a year or so after their New York trip, his mother was picking him up from school, nervously pressing her thumb nail into the steering wheel. She asked if he remembered her friend from college, the one they’d seen while in New York. Nate did. She asked if he’d like to take another trip to New York to see his aunt, to see her old friend from college & maybe stay longer this time - like maybe the whole summer holidays?
They stayed the whole summer and when fall came around and it was time for Nathan and his mother to return home, he was sad - he was going to miss his aunt, he was going to miss the excitement of living Stateside. The rest of his year was almost a blur - his school year went by relatively painlessly, though he had begun to feel the hurt of being one of the only brown kids in school - and eventually spring had returned. His mom, again, sat him down and began asking questions. Eventually, and now Nate was smart enough to see where this was going from the start, she asked Nate how he would feel about moving to the States, about living with his aunt for a while. The move itself was quick and before he knew it, Nate and his mother settled in the States. He spent his days at school and his afternoons in extracurriculars - his new school had an art program that Nate was excelling in. They spent nights hanging out with his aunt or his mom’s college friend and for the first time in his young life, Nate felt comfortable. His mom’s friend had begun taking him to the museums, explaining the complexities of the canvas hanging on the walls and asking for his opinion on the work.
When Nate was about halfway through his junior year of high school, his mother and her college friend were both in the car when he was picked up from school. It wasn’t entirely all that weird - he wasn’t dumb enough to think that they weren’t dating, but Nate did always wonder why his mother never broached the subject with him. It’s not like he was a little kid anymore, for fuck’s sake - if your kid is old enough to date, they’re old enough to know who you’re dating. Nate probably couldn’t tell you the rest of what happened that day. He remembered getting home and grabbing a snack, as he always does, and he remembered getting told to sit down by his mother, that she had something important to tell him.
Nate’s life split into the before and the now - before Stephen was his father & now. While typically a rather well-mannered teenager, Nate was furious. Sure, his mom didn’t have to disclose her love life if she didn’t want to, but to know that Stephen was his That they’d known since the start and never told him? He thought back to their first visit to New York, when they ran into Stephen on the steps of the Met - he remembered his mom was surprised, thrown off her guard, but never uncomfortable, never not wanting to be around this man.
He slammed the door on his way out of the house, hopping on his bike and riding off. That night was the first night he ever acted out - Nate made it to his friend’s place out in the suburbs and snuck in their basement window. The rest of his friends, along with a couple girls he knew from his English Lit class, were circled around a small table, upon which sat a small tray & a bong. Nate welcomed the small act of rebellion, in the face of such shocking news, & spent his night testing his limits.
His parents, as he now so affectionately referred to them as, soon regretted telling Nate at such a volatile age. He soon spent all his evenings with his friends, sneaking into the house after midnight (if he’s early) and going straight up to his room. They tried not to push it and Nate was torn between appreciating being left alone and pissed that no one cared how he felt. His mom had tried to address it a couple times but Nate always shut down, refusing to give her more than a two word response.
It went on like that for 2 years, silence, short answers, tension. At 18, Nathan found himself going off to college, moving across the country to attend UCLA. He lived off his parents money, figuring the least they could do after years of absconding from the truth. And he lived lavishly - drinks on him every time his friends went to the bars, new clothes, new shoes, everything he could want.
He graduated with minimal rule infractions, an MIP here, possession of controlled substance there. But his parents always paid for a lawyer, flew out for the week and handled everything for him. After college, Nathan bounced around for a year, spent a couple months in LA, three in New York, and another 6 or so in a van his parents had financed, driving around the US.
Six months on the road proved to be exhausting, however, and Nathan found himself back in one of his first stops at the start of his trip, Heartsdale. It wasn’t long before he signed a lease on an apartment downtown and spent his days as a barista at Legal Grounds. He didn’t necessarily need the job - his parents still financed his whole life - but it was nice to have something to meet people in town. After a while, however, being a barista became boring. Nate spent his time admiring the local work they had pinned for sale on their walls, admiring the fine line work and critiquing in the way he’d spent four year training to do. On a walk, he found himself fantasizing about owning his own gallery, having his space to curate an experience. Nate’s eyes caught on every single ‘For Lease’ sign downtown, pausing and forcing himself not to take a peek inside. It wasn’t reasonable, he told himself. Irrational, at best. He had no experience managing anything, no experience building something from nothing.
And yet… he couldn’t help. One brisk morning, the sun was bright against a For Lease sign, practically screaming the numbers at him. His fingers were typing the numbers into his phone before he even realized what he was doing. It was 4:23am, the downside of an opening shift at a coffee shop, and he wasn’t expecting anyone to pick up anyway. “Morning, uh,” he paused - was he really doing this? “My name is Nate Arnoult and I’m interested in the space you’ve got on 1st and..”
Moving in was quick, it only took 6 months before Nathan settled in the space above the retail spot. He spent his first night with his friends, drinking and dancing. His friends, just as ecstatic as he,  commended him - Nate had been hemming & hawing about opening a gallery space for months and to finally have a space, a place to start… Nathan was on cloud nine. And it went better than he thought it did. The art scene extended out of his small town and he was able to show pieces from all over Georgia. He even flew out to other states, offered small artists a space in his show room.  The rest, he supposed, is history. He’s been living a comfortable life and still maintains contact with his parents, despite their rocky past - not friendly, but not fatal either.
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wiypt-writes · 3 years
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Too Loose And You’ll Lose It
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Ch2: I’m Not Jealous...Why Would I Be Jealous? Co-written with @icanfeelastormbrewing​
Summary: The Losers run their first mission together since they bust the Child Sex Trafficking Ring a few months ago, and things don’t quite go according to plan, leading to some nasty tension between Jake and Stella. As time progresses the rift increases leading Jake to make a decision about the nature of his and Stella’s relationship, and the consequences of his decision lead Stella to make one of her own…
Warnings: Bad Language words. Some angst and 2 dumbasses so afraid to admit their feelings to one another, they’d rather ignore them completely…
Pairing: Jake Jensen x OFC Stella Stevenson.
A/N:  Yeah, yeah, we’re sorry…but what would our fics be without the standard angst and dumbassery…and let’s face it, Jake IS a total dumbass. A lovable dumbass, but still a dumbass. Also, in this is a lot of Creative License. There’s limited detail about the CIA base online (dur) but I do have a fairly good grasp of UK Military codes and security levels as I worked on a lot of bases so we’re running with that…if it’s not directly the same over in the US then…sorry not sorry!
And yes, our other OC in here is shamelessly named after Evans… and our bub needs some love today.
TLAYLI Masterlist // Main Masterlist
Chapter 1
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August 2007
“OK Losers, let’s fuck this shit up and get home. I got a date in less than 23 hours.” Clay grinned at Pooch who let out a chuckle.
“You sure don’t wanna miss that…she’s volatile.” Roque’s soft baritone came back over the coms.
“Yeah, which means I’d rather not be late.” Clay replied.
“Good call Clay, I’d hate to be picking up the pieces of you like I had to do with Pooch when he missed Future Mrs Pooch’s birthday last month…”  Jensen replied, looking at Pooch as he sat in the van, laptop open “How is Little Pooch performing since she ripped your balls off?”
Pooch glared at him and elbowed him harshly in the ribs “Ouch, Pooch be gentle!” Jensen rubbed at his side, wincing.
Clay rolled his eyes as Pooch and Jensen started bickering between themselves, Cougar’s soft snickering echoed down the coms from his vantage point perched on the building next door. “Ok, seriously, we’re trying to work here and all I can hear is you lot.” Stella hissed, “Can you focus up?”
“Sorry Arty.” Pooch said, shooting one last glare at Jensen who simply arched an eyebrow and sniffed slightly, tapping at the keyboard.
“And I can see you.” Jensen grinned as the CCTV footage of the inside of the office flicked onto the screen “Wave for the Camera Stel…”
At his words, Stella turned to look at the camera which was above her in the corner of the room and flipped him off. Clay gave a snort.
“That’s not a wave sweetheart.” Jake said and she let out a growl.
“Jensen, I swear to God…”
“Enough you two.” Clay groaned “Roque, Arty get on with it. Cougar, sit-rep on the auction.”
“Still going on…” Cougar obliged “Everyone still in the main room.”
“Jakey…” Stella spoke, and as they watched she began to search the room as Roque kept watch at the door. “Are you sure it’s in here?”
“Yup…” Jensen said “The signal says you’re right by it.”
On the screen Stella paused and looked at the large, ornamental cabinet against the right wall. She stooped to examine the lock and then snorted. “Standard dead bolt.”
“You think they’d be a little more careful…” Pooch mused, watching the footage on the laptop.
“Well to be fair they have a lot of security on the door” Stella replied, and with that hitched the skirt of the tight, figure hugging midnight blue body-con dress she was wearing up slightly and retrieved a tiny device from the top of her stockings.
Jake gave a groan, and then a little yelp as Pooch slapped him round the back of the head. “Pooch man…like, didn’t you see that?”
“Shut up!” Clay said, glaring at him, his eyes then flicking back to the screen as Stella began to wrestle with the lock of the cabinet.
“Boss, they’re wrapping up. Cougar spoke. “The device has sold…I got eyes on our middle man…”
“Ok…” Stella said, and they watched as she gave the little picking device a twist to the right before she sharply jabbed it downwards, then up. Then she gave a little “yes” of triumph and yanked the door open, only to then give a groan of frustration.“Shit.”
“Shit, what’s shit?” Roque asked, and Clay saw him turn back to look at her from where he had been peeking out of the door.
“It’s in a damned case…”  She said, yanking it out and dropping it on the desk, crouching down so she was eyelevel with the locks. “These are harder to pick than a fucking padlock.”
“You got company heading your way.” Cougar spoke “2 guys, armed, approaching from your left.”
“Fuck.” Clay mumbled, as Jensen tapped another button and a smaller viewing box appeared in the top right of the monitor displaying footage of the corridor.
“Want me to drop them boss?” Cougar asked.
“Let’s wait a bit, see if we can get out clean.” Clay said. “But be ready just in case.”
“Got about 40 seconds tops until they turn the corner and I won’t have a shot.”
“Roger.” Clay said
“Once Cougar loses sight we have about another 60 seconds before they hit your position.” Jake said, his eyes flashing as he watched the CCTV of the two men walk down the corridor before his eyes moved back to the larger footage box of the room Stella was in. “Come on Stel…”
“I’m going as fast as I can…” she grumbled, twisting the device in the fiddly locks. One of them sprang open and she hastily moved to the other.
It was deadly silent, Jensen holding his breath as his nerves started to get the better of him. Roque and Stella were both unarmed, they had to be to get into the auction in the first place. The only reason Stella had managed to get that lock pick in through the metal detectors was that it was made out of a specialist, plastic resin. His right hand rested over his mouth, fingers pulling at the whiskers on his goatee as his knee began to jerk slightly.
“Ok I got it…” Stella said, and she grabbed the large, metal hard-drive, flipping it over. “Jake now what?”
“The back should screw off.” He said, watching as she flipped it over, dropped it on the desk and hastily worked at the screw positioned at the top.
“I lost sight.” Cougar said.
“Ok, grab the drive and get of there.” Clay instructed and at that point Roque spun back into the room, making to pick it up but Stella slapped his hand away.
“Arty, what…”
“If we do that we’ve no chance of tracking this back via the middle man to the buyer…” she shook her head, still working at the screw.
“Our priority was retrieving the device.” Clay said, “The buyer is a bonus.”
“Stella, do what he says.” Jake said, swallowing nervously “Get out of there, now!”
“No, I almost got this…” Stella mumbled and with a final twist of her wrist the back sprang open. Quick as a flash the three men in the truck watched as Roque pulled off his watch, twisted the back of it and retrieved the data chip inside, handing it to Arty.
“Lift up the large, flat circuit board in the middle.” Jake said, and she followed his instructions, quickly swapping the chips out. She then hastily screwed the back on before jamming it back in the case. She snapped the lock shut, before she rammed it back in the cupboard.
“30 seconds…” Jake muttered, “Stel…come on…”
She didn’t reply, instead she quickly locked the cabinet door and Roque grabbed her hand and they ran into the corridor, running in the opposite direction to the approaching danger.
Jensen hit a button, flipping the footage of the corridor so it filled the screen and felt his blood run cold. He could see the corridor was long. And there was no way Roque and Stel would make it to the corner at the bottom before the men spotted them.
“They’re not gonna make it…” he muttered, and all 3 of them in the van stood up, grabbing their guns.
“Cougar…” Clay instructed as they emerged from the van.
“I’m by the gates” he said simply and Clay cocked his gun.
“Roque, Arty try and hide until we get in there…” he said simply as they sprinted across the road towards where Cougar was waiting, all the time listening to the chatter on the coms.
“Door, door…” Roque muttered “Shit it’s locked…”
“Roque…” Stella hissed.
“What?”
“Shut up and…”
Her voice cut off and Jensen heard a noise on his comms, a noise that sounded very much like…
Oh hell, no.
“Are they…is she…” he looked at Pooch as besides him Cougar started chuckling “Are they kissing?” Jensen wheeled round to look at Clay “Tell me, that’s not kissing I can hear!”
Clay shrugged as Jensen pulled a face, making a disgusted snort through his nose. “Stel, are you kissing Roque? What the fuck-“
“Hey, what the hell are you 2 doing back here?” an unfamiliar voice sounded in Jensen’s ears, followed by the loud noise of lips smacking and he looked at Pooch, his mouth hanging open.
“Sorry…we just…erm…” Stella giggled, “Yeah, we…”
“Can’t keep my hands off her” Roque chuckled, and Jensen couldn’t help the growl that bubbled from his throat at the words “Can you blame me? She’s a stunner, right?”
“Yeah, well, you shouldn’t be back here.”
“I know, we’re really sorry…I guess, well, I guess the excitement and the champagne…just got me a little…” Stella trailed off, giggling again.
Pooch grinned as Cougar winked at Jensen who’s jaw was set. He could picture exactly the face Stella was making, batting her eyelids all innocently, biting her lip.
And she’d just kissed Roque.
Fucker.
“Go on, get out of here…” the man’s voice instructed Roque and Stella and Roque said something back that Jensen didn’t quite catch as he pulled his ear piece out and turned off his coms link.
“Ok, back to the van.” Clay ordered, looking around at Pooch, Cougar and Jensen, who’s expression looked like that of a bulldog licking piss of a nettle. As the 4 of them headed back down the small lane to the non-descript Cable Company van, Clay shared a glance with Pooch who simply raised his eyebrows. Over the past 3 months since Stella had moved to the base in Virginia, the dynamic between her and Jensen had been the subject of immense puzzlement for the team. Stella had assured Clay when she joined that whatever had been going on was over, as they hadn’t seen each other for a year, but it was clear to see that them being in such close proximity of one another had thrown fuel on the allegedly damp fire.
For all intents and purposes the team basically agreed that they might as well actually be dating. They spent their evenings together, watched movies, went home for the same weekends… the whole “friends with benefits” thing they had going on was also complete bullshit as neither of them was seeing anyone else. Clay got the distinct impression, however, that Jensen was the driving force behind it not being official but here he was acting like a total brat because she’d had to kiss Roque as part of her cover. It was fucking ridiculous, but until either of them ended it or admitted their feelings, there was nothing he could do.  
“We’re out. Heading to you now.” Stella sounded in his ear just as Jensen opened the rear door to the van.
“Good.” He said with a smile as he climbed into the back of the can. “Nice work guys. All of you, job well done.” He said, nodding.
“Yeah, especially you Roque from the sounds of things!” Pooch quipped and Cougar gave a snort as Jensen slammed the ruggedized laptop shut.
“Watch it, that’s worth more than your annual pay check.” Clay pointed at Jensen, then to the laptop.
“Ah don’t mind him Clay, he’s just a little jealous.” Pooch teased.
“Jealous? I’m not jealous.” Jake said, far too quickly “Why would I be jealous?”
“Because Roque just totally tongued your girl” Cougar grinned, making Pooch snigger. Clay rolled his eyes.
“She’s not my girl.” Jensen snapped, and at that exact moment the door to the van slid open. Jensen turned to look at Stella, and he inwardly groaned as he knew full well from the expression on her face she’d heard him. But her outward slip was quick, and she recovered herself fast, stepping into the van closely flowed by Roque.
“Oooh, someone kissed someone.” Pooch grinned and Roque glared at him.
“What are you, 5?”
Stella flopped onto one of the fold down seats in the back, and took the water Clay handed her with a mumbled thanks.
“You ok?” he asked her.
“Yeah.” She nodded “I’m fine. Was just a close one.”
“Can say that again.” Pooch said and Stella rolled her eyes.
“Alright, knock it off.” Clay said, looking at her and then to Jensen who looked like a sulky teenager, and it was too good an opportunity to miss, so with a smirk he added “Otherwise Jensen’s gonna have a fit and as annoying as he is, we need him.”
“Like he cares.” Stella mumbled, and Jake glared at her, positively shooting daggers with his eyes across the van.
Roque chuckled, more amused at Jensen’s attitude than anything “Well if he doesn’t care he’s an idiot. You’re a damned good kisser Arty.”
Stella looked at him, and raised her eyebrow. “Glad I met with your approval Roque.”
Cougar nudged her and she looked at him as he nodded towards Roque, tipping his hat slightly “How was it for you?”
“A solid 7 and a half outta 10.” She shrugged and Clay, Pooch and Cougar erupted into laughter at Roque’s indignant look.
“7 and a half?”
“I docked half a point for the fact you bumped your head into mine…” she shrugged “And it would have been a 9 if you’d felt my ass.”
Pooch banged on the dash of the van, howling with laughter as Clay chuckled deeply, shaking his head. Cougar grinned at Roque who himself gave a snort, and Stella turned her head to look at Jake. Her eyes locked onto his to find him simply looking at her, not a shred of amusement on his face. Eventually he raised his eyebrows and looked away, taking a deep breath.
Stella rolled her eyes and swallowed. Ok, that had been a bit out of order, but hearing what he had said just before had hurt her. Yes, she knew she wasn’t ‘his girl’, she hadn’t been for a while but if she was honest she was struggling with that, and was fast coming to the conclusion that she couldn’t keep doing what she was doing.
The trouble was, she wasn’t sure she was strong enough to end it.
*****
As it turns out, the decision was taken out of her hands. Upon return to base, the relationship between them grew increasingly icy over the following week or so. They had no contact outside of work, and even in work it was civil at best. Stella was angry at Jake’s behaviour, how pathetic he was being over the whole Roque thing, a kiss that had been nothing more than an undercover distraction, but more than anything she was hurt. It was clear to her that he didn’t care about her like he used to. Things had already shifted between them dramatically since that evening a few months ago back home after they’d been out for drinks with Pooch and Jolene. He’d become a little more aloof so to speak, and whilst they still hung out, did all the things they used to do as best friends, and still fucked, she’d noticed how he was less affectionate before and after. Almost like he had deliberately put up a wall to remind her that this was simply an arrangement, so in her mind, especially after his outburst in the van following the latest mission, he had absolutely no right to be pissed at her for kissing or going with anyone, regardless. But, after a fortnight or so of being treated to Jake’s cold stares, being intentionally ignored in conversations, and being subjected to watching him attempting to flirt with any female he came across, Stella went into self-preservation mode and avoided hanging around with any of them outside of work as much as she could.
August ticked into September, and it was almost a month or so after the mission when Clay rocked into the little office the Losers used on the base and Stella smiled at him, looking up from a report she had been writing on a couple of recruits she’d been asked to train.
“I didn’t know you were back.” She smiled as he perched on the edge of her desk.
“Got in this morning.” He replied, “Where’s the rest of the team?”
“Pooch is on Drill Ops, Cougar is on the shooting range and as for Jensen, your guess is as good as mine. I haven’t spoken to him in ages. In fact, I don’t even know if he’s in the State or not.”
“Still?” Clay groaned “Oh come on Arty, don’t you think this has gone on long enough? When are you gonna sort stuff out?”
“When he grows up and apologises for being a jerk.”
“So basically never.” Clay rolled his eyes.
Stella shrugged “I don’t want to talk about it Clay.”
“Fine, whatever.” Clay sighed, “Do you reckon you could at least try to be civil though? It’s gonna make running this team hard work if you two are at each other’s throats. And I don’t wanna have to ask one of you to leave.”
She looked at him, and he stuck his bottom lip out and she sighed before she turned back to her computer “I’ll think about it.”
“Suppose that’s better than a flat out ‘Fuck off, Clay…” he rolled his eyes, hopping off the desk and ruffling her hair. Stella ducked out of the way, swatting at his hand. “Oh, before I go, you got the reports on the Atlanta job?”
“Yeah, they’re in the Red Link area…” Stella pushed her chair back and stood up, smoothing down her uniform top before she gestured for Clay to follow her. Together they made their way down the corridor and Stella stopped at a high-security door, bending down so the scanner pad could take her retina print. Once inside the door shut behind her, and she swiped her ID into the slot to the side of the other thick, glass door which opened in front of her. She moved into the main room and turned, waiting for Clay to enter behind her.
“I fucking hate those things.” Clay mumbled as he stepped through the entrance. “They make me feel like I’m about to plummet through the floor into Thunderbird one.”
Stella chuckled “Its top secret, classified info Clay, you know this.”
She strode over to the key safe positioned on the wall, punched in the code and then selected the relevant key. Clay followed her to the a cabinet at the back which she unlocked and pulled out a Manilla file with the words “MILITARY SECRET- CLASSIFIED” Stamped all over, and the words “Operation Bon Echo” underneath. She handed it to him and then grinned.
“I don’t need to tell you that ya can’t take that outta this room do I?” she teased and Clay shot her a look.
“Stel, I been running Military ops since you were knee high to a grass hopper.” He arched an eyebrow and she laughed.
“Do you want me to stay so we can go through it or…” “No.” he shook his head “I just want to read it now it’s not that fresh in my mind. Helps me analyse it a little better. I’ll call an official Lessons Learned at some point.”
“Ok, well when you’re done make sure you lock up.” She said. “And don’t forget to make sure you swipe your ID again on the way out, or the system will still think you’re here.” “Grasshopper.” Clay looked at her again and she laughed.
“I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t check.” She smiled “I’ll catch you later.”
Clay waved her off and Stella let herself out. Deciding that she could do with a break she wandered out of the Original Headquarters building she was stationed passing the Kryptos sculpture in the little courtyard and made her way down through the landscaped garden area where a few people were milling around, sat at the various benches, taking in the bright early September Sun that had settled over Virginia. She passed the main entrance to the CIA Museum and made her way over to the Starbucks near the New HQ building. More people were sat outside on the benches and she felt herself inwardly groan as she recognised 3 of them. Pooch, Cougar and Jensen. Of course.
“Hey Arty!” Pooch called and she smiled, making her way over “We were just talking about you.”
“Sounds ominous.” She said, her eyes focussed on him to avoid looking at Jensen.
“We ain’t seen you properly in weeks.” Cougar leaned back in his chair, his hat as always perched on his head.
“Well I’ve been busy” she shrugged, “And speaking of which, I gotta get back so...” she gestured to the door of the Starbucks and smiled.
“Movie and pizza on Friday?” Pooch asked “Jolene’s coming here this weekend, sure she’d be pleased to see you.” “Yeah, maybe.” Stella nodded. Pooch flashed her a smile, as did Cougar, before she turned and walked away.
“So now you’re not even speaking? At all?” Pooch looked at Jensen who shrugged, picking at the label on his Starbucks cup. The words “Glasses” had been scribbled on the side by the barista as a means of identifying who the coffee belonged to. They weren’t allowed to ask the Agents’ names so instead they usually provided physical descriptors of something around their appearance when ordering. Cougars usually bore the word “Cowboy” given that he was rarely without his black Stetson and Pooch’s held the words “Eight Ball” on account of him being that closely shorn he was almost bald. Jake had found it amusing at the time when he’d offered that up to the pretty girl behind the counter…
“You’re being a pain in the ass.” Pooch glared at him. “And a buzzkill.”
“How, what…why am I a buzzkill?” Jensen looked at him, frowning.
“Cos she’s not hanging around with us anymore because you’re being a prick.” Cougar shot back, picking up his coffee and taking a sip.
Jensen ignored Cougar, as he placed the cup down on the table, his finger absentmindedly trailing round the rim of the plastic lid. He knew he’d fucked up. He could remember the hurt in Stella’s eyes when she had opened the door in the van to hear him protesting how she wasn’t his girl. He’d been pissed off, and had snapped it out in a moment of frustration and anger but deep down he knew that it wasn’t true. Well, it was true…she wasn’t his girl anymore, because of decision he had made years ago, a decision that he’d come to with the best of intentions but knowing that didn’t make it any easier.
What hurt him more than anything now, however, was the realisation he’d come to that night of the mission as he’d led in the hotel room. He was still dragging her along with every damned decision he made, and the more he thought about it the more he realised that had been the case through the entire time they’d known one another. They started dating when he finally plucked up the courage to ask her out. They quit because he decided it was right. Then the ‘arrangement’ they had was something he came up with, because it suited him and he’d been selfish, well and truly had his cake and eaten it. She played along with his decisions every damned time and that made him feel like shit. Because she was such a strong, vibrant, stubborn person in every other area of her life. She was fierce, took no shit, she was a fucking bad ass…and the only explanation for her allowing him to be the way he was, was that she loved him, like really loved him. And he didn’t deserve her.
He knew what he had to do, he had to end their arrangement although he was pretty sure it was at an end anyway. Maybe his outburst in the van had been a blessing in disguise. But that said, she was still the best friend he’d ever had, the person he cared about most in the world and he didn’t want her to hate him to the extent she didn’t want to speak to him ever again. He might be a dumbass but he wasn’t stupid, and he certainly wasn’t naive enough to think that things could ever go back to how they were before they’d dated, but he had to try and salvage something…even if it was simply so that she could actually bring herself to hold a conversation.
**** Stella was sat on her sofa, munching on a bag of popcorn when there was a knock on her door. Given that no one had buzzed through, that meant it was someone who lived in the block that housed The Losers’ CIA Owned Condos. Pressing pause on her remote, temporarily halting Simba’s pouncing lesson she padded over to the door and checked through the viewer. When she saw who it was she gave a deep breath and debated not answering it, before she gave her head a shake and mentally told herself to grow up.
“Since when have you started knocking on my door?” she asked, opening it “You usually just walk in…”
“Well given how things have been between us I wasn’t sure you’d appreciate me using my key.” He smiled at her. “Can I come in?”
Stella turned around and headed back inside her condo, “You want a beer?”
“No, it’s ok. Thanks. I errr, I wanna talk to you.”
“Sounds serious?” she turned back to look at him as she crossed towards her sofa. She perched where she had been previously sat, tucking her legs up besides her and Jake took a seat a few cushions down, nodding at the TV.
“You must know this off by heart by now.”
“You know full well I do.”
“Yeah, that and every other damned Disney film out there.” he snorted and she grinned, before she took a deep breath.
“I’m pretty certain you didn’t come over to discuss my Disney obsession Jake.”
“Yeah, erm…” Jensen cleared his throat. “I came to apologise. I’ve been an ass, a childish ass, and I’m sorry.”
Stella looked at him, before she took a deep breath, but she didn’t speak so he carried on.
“I want us to be friends again.” He said gently and she studied him for a moment before she sighed and gave him a soft smile, reaching for his hand.
“I’m sorry too Jake.” She said, licking her lips “I haven’t exactly behaved like a grown up either…and I’ve missed you.”
Jensen looked at her, and saw her eyes were shining and he knew she wasn’t getting him. He let out a soft sigh and hung his head and instantly her hand moved from his, reading his body language and signs as she always could.
“Jakey, what’s wrong?” she asked softly and he raised his head to look at her and he shook it gently side to side. God, she was making this so damned hard.
“I think you got me wrong Stel…” his eyes locked onto hers, his voice soft.
“What do you mean?” she frowned “I thought you wanted things to go back to how they were?”
“I do, but…not like that.” He shook his head “This thing between us, this…arrangement…I think its best we stop.”
Stella felt a wave of cold crashing over her and she temporarily froze as she realised that this was it, his final admission that his feelings for here were nothing more than friendly, that she was nothing more than a convenient way for him to simply get his dick wet from time to time. And now she wasn’t even that.
“Stel?” Jake said softly and she blinked a little, pulling herself together. She gave him the best smile she could muster and nodded.
“If that’s what you want.”
“I think it’s for the best” Jake chose his words carefully, because it wasn’t what he wanted, and despite himself, even now, he couldn’t lie to her.
“Ok.” She nodded, giving him another small smile.
“Hey, we had a good run.” He said, attempting to break the tension and she rolled her eyes.
“You’re a jerk.” She shook her head, and he shrugged.
“I know.”
There was a moment’s pause, and for the first time Jensen could remember, it was fucking awkward. And he had to get out of there. “I err, I should…” her gestured over his shoulder towards the door with his thumb and Stella nodded.
“Sure.” She agreed “I got a film to finish so…”
“I’ll leave you to it.” He said, standing. “Buy you a coffee tomorrow?”
“Yeah, sounds good.” Stella smiled.
He nodded to her, his hand falling to her shoulder as he stood up, giving it a squeeze.
Stella just managed to hold her tears back long enough for him to shut the door behind him.
***** Things between the two of them settled down after that, but there was a shift, that didn’t go unnoticed by them or the rest of the team for that matter. The once best friends turned lovers turned best friends with benefits now had to navigate simply being buddies. It was odd for them both but they managed to remain on good terms.  Not great, but good. They could hold a conversation, laugh, joke…the team was happier because of it. But there were no movie nights, no time spent alone. Neither wanted themselves put in that position, this was the new normal for Jake and Stella now, just how it had to be. It hurt them both- after so long, of course it would…but it was better than nothing.
Another month ticked over, and October brought some cooler weather. The leaves on the trees turned to their firey reds, golds and yellows announcing that Fall had arrived, and brought with it Stella’s favourite thing of the season…pumpkin spiced lattes.
“You have an unhealthy addiction to those things…” Pooch grinned as she picked up the coffee from the counter.
“Best thing about Fall.” She shrugged, turning to leave. She instantly collided with a wall of solid muscle and her precious latte went cascading down the front of her uniform and the crisp, white shirt of the unfortunate man she had collided with.
“Shit!” he yelled and Stella’s hand flew to her mouth
“Oh my God, I’m so, so sorry!” she looked at the man, instantly noticing the deep, blue eyes that looked back at her. They were shining with a natural, kind natured glint and she swallowed as the man sighed, and shook his head.
“Don’t worry about it.” He said, his voice deep “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
Stella placed the now half-empty cup down on the side, and took the pile of napkins Pooch handed to her.
“Thanks…” she mumbled, before she offered them to the man.
“What, you’re not gonna wipe it down for me?” he winked and she gave a snort before she chuckled a little, shaking her head.
“I think I’m in enough trouble as it is, don’t you?” she smiled and he gave another chuckle, as he dabbed at his shirt which had now started to go a little see through thanks to it being wet. A not entirely unpleasant turn of events in Stella’s opinion. She scanned him up and down quickly, taking in his sharp navy suit, shiny shoes, black tie before she looked back at his face which sported an immaculately trimmed beard, sharp nose and jawline, brow furrowed in concentration as he focussed on cleaning his shirt up.
“No trouble.” He flashed her a smile that lit up his handsome face, his eyes crinkling slight in the corner and Stella swallowed a little, surprised to find her stomach fluttering ever so slightly with butterflies.
“I err, I should go…” she nodded. “I’m sorry again.”
“Like I said, don’t worry about it.”
She gave him another smile, the heat in her necks and cheeks unbearable, before she picked up what was left of her latte and along with Pooch exited the store.
“Ok, so he just totally watched you leave.” Pooch nudged her and she shook her head.
“Stop!”
“Girl he was eye fucking you!” Pooch snorted “And you were eye fucking him!”
“I was not…” she protested, before he looked at her and she laughed, shaking her head “Ok, maybe I was…a little. Girl can look, right?”
“Hey, no judgement from me!” Pooch smiled “You’re young, free, single…”
“Yeah…” Stella sighed, stealing a look over her shoulder taking in the mystery man from behind “That I am. Thanks for the reminder.”
“You know you could just tell him how you feel.” Pooch gently suggested as they walked towards the entrance of their building.
“What?” Stella looked at him. “How I feel? I just, literally bumped into the guy.”
“I don’t mean him, I mean Jensen.”
“What? Why would you…” Stella looked at Pooch who raised an eyebrow at her. She shook her head “That’s done, it’s over. He ended it, again, and this time it’s a clean break. I’m not raking over old ground, Pooch. Nothing good comes of it.”
Pooch looked at her as he swiped his access card, pulling the door open and allowing Stella to step into the building in front of him. She headed down the corridor, her camouflage clad shoulders slumped a little and Pooch sighed.
“Pair of dumbasses.” He mumbled to himself, as he headed after her towards the office.
***** The good thing about Arty and Jensen being on speaking terms was that their team social events were lighter in atmosphere, and at the end of the week when Clay suggested a few beers they all accepted.
It was the Friday before Halloween, and The Losers were gathered in a bar not far from their Condo building. It was packed full of people, some in fancy dress, some not. The bar itself was decked out in Halloween decorations, Jack-O-Lanterns spaced along the dark wood bar and on the taller tables at the sides of the room. As Roque and Clay came back from the bar with drinks for the team, they handed them out and Clay paused as Jensen had picked up the lantern from their table. He held it next to his face and arranged his features into a grin and Pooch snorted as Jensen placed it back down, picking up his beer.
“I take it from the fact you’re back that your pick up line didn’t work on that nurse.” Pooch looked at Jensen who shrugged.
“What was it this time?” Clay asked “Did you use the ‘did it hurt when you fell from heaven’ line or was it more of a ‘I’m a trained, lethal killing machine, wanna see my weapon’ kinda moment?”
Cougar, Roque and Pooch snorted, whilst Cougar looked at Arty who was studying the label on her beer bottle “Tell me you didn’t fall for anything like that?” he quipped.
“JJ never used a chat-up line on me, Coug.” She shrugged and Jake looked at her.
“I was 10 when we met, Stel.” He arched an eyebrow “10 year olds don’t use chat-up lines.”
“We didn’t start dating until we were 17.” She looked at him, taking a swig from her bottle.
“Exactly, seven years later. Didn’t need one.” He winked. She rolled her eyes before she grinned.
“Actually, you kinda used one once…but we’d already been dating for 10 months by that point.”
Jensen frowned “What?”
“Prom night. We got home to yours and you turned to me, and said, and I quote, ‘wanna fuck’?”
Jensen grinned and Cougar looked at them both “Wait, you dated for 10 months before you…” “We did other stuff.” Jake shrugged.
Cougar snorted.
“We were kids, Coug.” Stella smiled
“Awww, did you pop his cherry, Stel?” Pooch grinned and Stella smiled in response.
“Hey, I popped hers too.” Jake chipped in.
“I feel like I should be congratulating you or something.” Clay said, causing the team to laugh and Stella rolled her eyes.
“It wasn’t some big mission, Clay…” She looked at him and Jensen snorted.
“It felt like it.” He placed his bottle on the table before he smirked “I had to get my dad to make sure the house was empty.”
That entire day was imprinted on his brain, fresh as if it had happened only yesterday…but in that moment he was taken back to the conversation with his dad as he stood in the living room, just before heading out to pick Stella up.
“Hey dad…” Jake looked up as John walked into the room. “Will anyone be home when I get back?”
John Jensen looked at his son, arching an eyebrow “I know your game…” Jake shrugged and grinned. “Just…oh, I dunno, just be careful ok? I’ll take your mom out for a drink but I can’t promise we’ll be out late.”
“That’s ok.” Jake said, “Me and Stel aint planning on staying too long anyway. Just long enough to see who spikes the punch or starts the first fight.”
“As long as it ain’t you.” His dad looked at him and Jake grinned.
“Hey, I’m a lover not a fighter.”
“Yeah, sure you can kill ‘em all with love when you join the army.” John snorted and Jake shrugged.
“Come here, let me sort your tie…” John sighed, stepping forward to straighten the knot. “Fuck, I can’t believe I’m asking you this but…you got any condoms son?”
“A few.” Jake shrugged.
At that John laughed “ A few? I admire your optimism.” He paused and then narrowed his eyes “Did you steal them from my stash?”
“No I bought em, Jesus…” Jake groaned “Like I needed that image.”
“Yeah because the image of my 18 year old son banging his childhood sweetheart is so much better.” John rolled his eyes.
“You and mom are like a hundred or whatever.” Jake looked at him, pulling a disgusted face “It’s gross.”
“Ok.. Now listen to me. If your mother finds out you’re…you know…this conversation, never happened.” John stepped back “You hear me?”
“Loud and clear pops.” Jake nodded “You know though, Stel’s stayed here before. Mom didn’t seem to mind.” “That’s because your mother never heard you hitting each base like I did. She thinks Stella stays in the spare room, whereas I know full well she stays with you and then sneaks back in there before everyone gets up…”
His dad had come through for him. He house was empty when they got back. His mom had actually been cool about it all as well to be fair, she loved Stella, still did as a matter of fact. As the memory of the morning after their first time came back to him, he grinned and looked at Arty.
“Remember mom knocking on my door in the morning, asking if she was bringing 2 cups of coffee in or 1?”
“Fuck, yes.” Stella snored “I nearly died of embarrassment.”
“But she never bothered putting you in the spare room again.” He winked as the group laughed. “Good times.”
“Yeah, yeah they were.” Stella sighed, before her eyes fell back to her bottle of beer, biting back the snipe she had brewing in her mind.
Before you fucked it all up…
“Hey…” Pooch nudged her and she looked at him, noticing he was watching something at the bar “Aint that flash coffee dude?”
“What?” Stella asked, her eyes snapping to where Pooch was looking “Oh yeah.”
“Who’s flash coffee dude?” Clay asked.
“Guy at the bar in the grey sweater.” Pooch said, grinning “Arty spilt a pumpkin spiced latte all down his shirt. He didn’t seem to mind though, was too busy undressing her with his eyes.”
At that Jake’s head snapped up and he looked over at the man who was stood with another guy a little shorter than him, chatting as he perched effortlessly on one of the high stools, his long jean clad legs stretching out in front of him, right foot resting on the rail at the bottom.
“That’s Evan Christianson.” Roque said “He works in Intel.”
“What kind of a dick name is that?” Jensen snorted
“Who cares?” Stella said, her eyes still on the man “With a body and face like that he can be called what the fuck he wants. Look at his poise…”
“You know…” Cougar took a pull of his beer “I’m not gay but I’m considering giving it a go.”
They all laughed bar Jensen who was studying the man Stella seemed to have the hots for. He wasn’t surprised at all to feel that green eyed monster stirring in his belly, but what could he do? They were free agents, it wasn’t like he expected her to stay single forever. He stole a look at Stella who was smirking a little at something Cougar had just said, shaking her head.
“Absolutely not, I’ll make a tit of myself.” She protested.
“You already did that when you spilt coffee all down him.” Pooch smirked “Don’t be a pussy.”
Stella bit her lip, weighing up her options. Should she? Could she? In the corner of her eye she saw Jake turn away, and momentarily felt a flash of guilt before she shook herself out of it.
He doesn’t want you anymore…
“Oh fuck it…” She shrugged, and grabbing her beer she headed off in the direction of the bar.
“Where is she going?” Jake asked.
“Don’t be a dumbass Jensen.” Roque smirked “It’s obvious.”
The men watched as Stella reached Evan and gently tapped his shoulder. He spun round and flashed her a huge grin, showing immaculate white teeth as he said something to her.
“Why is he smiling at her like that?” Jensen demanded and Clay looked at Pooch.
Cougar snorted “He likes her.”
“No shit Cougs…” Roque looked at him.
“Oh, he’s buying her a drink…” Pooch said, as Evan nodded towards Stella’s beer and then turned towards the bar tender.
“We have lift off boys!” Clay grinned, and the group smirked at one another, before they turned away, not wanting to watch or intrude. Jensen’s eyes, however, remained where they were until Clay slapped him on the shoulder.
“Cheer up Jensen.” He said gently
“I’m not…I don’t need to cheer up.” Jake shrugged, turning back to his beer. His eyes flickered around the bar then, deliberately avoiding the two of them stood at the bar before he focussed in on the Nurse he’d been talking to before he rolled his shoulders back and stated “Innabit losers, I got stuff to do.”
He headed across the bar towards the blonde and the remaining 4 men all looked at one another before shrugging, and continuing with their conversation. But Clay, always the leader, made sure to keep one eye on them both.
****
“It should be me buying you a drink.” Stella smiled and Evan laughed.
“Well what kind of gentleman would that make me?”
“The kind who had a hot cup of coffee spilt on him by a clumsy ass Captain who wasn’t watching where she was going.”
“Well, if I was the type of guy to use a pick up line, I’d tell you I was impressed that the clumsy, but might fine ass, belongs to a Captain.” He smiled and Stella grinned, her ego stoked a little at the veiled compliment to both her appearance and rank.
“Flattery will get you everywhere.” She flirted back, thanking him as the bar tender slid their drinks over to them.
“I hope so.” He winked, taking a pull from his bottle. “I’m Evan by the way.”
“Evan Christianson, yeah I know.” She smiled, taking a drink herself and he looked at her, his eyebrow raised “Roque told me.”
“Oh you know Roque?”
“Yeah. We worked together under Clay.” She nodded to her team where they were all stood round their table, noticing that Jensen wasn’t with them. But before she could think anymore of it Evan spoke again, as he raised his beer to Roque who did the same in acknowledgement.
“Small world.” He smiled at Arty. “So, do I get to know your name or…”
“It’s Stella.” She smiled, “Stella Stevenson, or as that lot call me Arty…”
“Let me guess, short for Artois, like the drink.” He smiled and she laughed, nodding. “Well, Stella or Arty, pleased to meet you. Again.”
“I promise to try not to spill a drink on you this time.” She smiled and Evan gave a little chuckle.
“Well I am partial to a pumpkin spiced latte, prefer to drink them though not wear them if I can help it.”
“I thought you wore it pretty well to be fair.” Stella smiled and he raised an eyebrow, a cheeky glint flashed in his eyes.
“That so?”
She bit her lip and turned back to her drink, picking it up and taking a big sip, smiling to herself as she felt Evan’s eyes studying her face.
From there the conversation began to flow. Evan told her a bit about him, his role in the Intel branch, how he’d himself been in the Navy having worked his way up to Commander by the time he was 30 before leaving a few years back to join the CIA. He was a few years older than her at thirty-five, and hailed from Boston, although Arty had sussed that anyway through his accent. She in turn told him about her life, her career and a little about her family. He seemed interested, genuinely. Asked her questions, answered hers as he bought another couple of drinks, each time declining Stella’s offer to pay.
It was a surprise to her just how easy the conversation and gentle flirting came to her. Whilst her and Jensen hadn’t been together or badged as exclusive, she hadn’t had any kind of relationship since he’d ended things with her 5 years or so ago. She hadn’t been interested, but here…well, she was finding that interest piqued.
A few hours later she left the bar with a smile on her face…and Evan Christian’s number safely stored in her phone.
***** Chapter 2 Part 1
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theoceanfaewriter · 3 years
Text
Laws and Lattes
Merry Christmas @clockworkgraystairs!! Have a Manorian coffee shop au as your cliche little Christmas gift 😂 Thank you for all the scheming (as well as screaming. coughs in the infernal devices) and help with other fics. ily!
Dorian was 28 years old and had long since given up on finding love in a coffee shop.  A coffee shop.  He was the youngest politician in the country, for fuck’s sake.
When the magic ink showed up on his wrist at midnight on his 18th birthday, he'd guffawed at Chaol who'd waited up with him, ever the believer in this soulmate crap.  In miniscule white, bubbly letters, the words "Hi.  Welcome to Starbucks, may I take your order?"  Great.  That was really just his luck.  Just 2 weeks before, Chaol's wrist had been emblazoned with "Not tonight, buddy.  I'm just a girl in a bar tonight."  She sounded like a fun girl.
Suffice it to say, considering that he was born and raised in New York then moved to Seattle, he'd seen more than his fair share of the chain's stores.  For the first couple of years, he'd replied to every hot barista's greeting with "Is it you?" and secretly prayed that none of the more homely ones would perk up after hearing his order.  By the time he'd graduated university, he'd given up.
When he walked into the establishment at 4th and Pine, he glanced down at his wrist and rolled his eyes, joining the queue.
-
At midnight on her 18th birthday, Manon Blackbeak sat in a circle with her half sisters, Asterin and Vesta, and her little sister Sorrel.  When "I'm sorry, no, I just got called into a city meeting," appeared on her wrist in sloppy, harsh lettering, Asterin and Vesta let out excited squeals, while Sorrel just rolled her eyes.  
The three of them had decided ages ago that they were all going to be surgeons like Asterin and Vesta's mom.  "So, that settles that, then.  Political science is a definite."
“You were supposed to come to the dark side," Asterin growled, climbing into her little sister's lap and nearly knocking her over.  She was already in her first year of Med School and Manon's hero.  Somehow, she was managing to take care of Asterin, who was still in high school, and their ailing mother, all while managing to progress in her classes at UW.  Manon remembered the long, teary phone call with her the week before her graduation from Dartmouth, telling her about her mother's diagnosis, and how she'd have to forgo Northwestern and settle for UW, citing that at least she'd be nearer to her.  It had taken its toll on her, but by then, almost a full year from that phone call, you could hardly tell.  
Even though she seemed genuinely happy for Manon's definitive first-words, it still stung that her tattoo had merely said "Excuse me."  
While she herself was a sophomore in College already by then, having skipped grades when she was younger, Manon wasn't sure that surgery was where she was headed, despite being pre-med.  That merely sealed the deal.
She'd only gotten this job to kill time and save up a few dollars while waiting for her internship at the hospital to start.  She just knew that she wasn't going to meet the love of her life in a coffee shop.  How cliche and boring would that be?  Still, it was cute the amount of young adults who came in, eyeing her suspiciously and asking some variation on "Are you her?" after her company-standard greeting with a wanton desperation, only to deflate when she shook her head sadly.  That just wouldn't be it for her.  
She knew that it was frustrating.  She saw it in the way Asterin had flinched every time a stranger moved around her on the street or tried to get her attention in a bar up until the night before she started her internship.  The fact that he turned out to be a surgeon and her boss proved only to be a minor stumbling block the next morning.
That was all going to come to a close for Manon soon.  She could feel it.  She was going to be a kickass politician and find her equally kickass politician spouse.  The fact that this was her last shift just made it all that much better.
Despite all that, she couldn't help but notice the ridiculously sexy, brooding man that just walked in and secretly mourned that her tattoo didn't read something like "Doppio Espresso and a coffee cake, please."  After a moment, she let it go.
The line progressed efficiently and there he was in front of her and, god, he was even more beautiful up close, she thought, but found herself interrupted by the sharp chirp of an old school pager.  Pager, she thought cheerfully. Politicians use those!  Returning to reality, she found herself absently chorusing the typical greeting, "Hi. Welcome to Starbucks, may I take your order."
The words didn't seem to rouse the man from the device.  "I'm sorry, no, I just got called into a city meeting," he answered and turned and walked out just like that.  
Manon's heart hammered away in her chest as the next guest babbled their long, frothy order at her, but it was irrelevant.  She hadn't heard a word they'd said.  Turning away, she waved over a coworker and pointed at the register, before she retreated into the back of the store.  Holy shit.  She'd met her soulmate in a coffee shop.  And as quickly as he'd come, he was gone.
-
That night, Manon cried in her sister's arms, describing him over and over to Asterin in perfect detail thanks to her photographic memory, and swearing she hadn't made him up.  "His first words defined who I'd become.  What if this was it?  What if I'm destined to be alone because I let him walk out?" she hiccuped.  "What if he's my soulmate but I'm not his?  Can that happen?"
"No, Manon," Asterin cooed.  "That doesn’t happen.”
It was only after the 5th time that it clicked in her head.  "What time did you say it was?"  
Sniffling pathetically, she answered "8:11".  
"And, you said he was tall, with salt and pepper hair?" she asked, straightening herself out in front of her and putting her hands out on her shoulders.
She nodded a little.
"Do you love me?" Asterin asked her sister, question met with an indignant grunt.  "Come in early for your shift tomorrow.  There's someone I want you to meet.  Get some sleep, hon."  With little more argument, Manon headed up the stairs and into bed.  As soon as she was certain she was out of earshot, Mer reached into her pocket and called her own soulmate, remembering how she'd bonded with someone over having a generic tattoo, but how she'd assured him that his soulmate probably had something great because he would be so sick of listening for it.  "Chaol, are you busy?"
-
Morning light changes people.  When she woke up, Manon felt incredibly stupid.  Obviously, that couldn't have been him.  She had a lifetime full of customers in front of her.  The chance of meeting a politician and her soulmate in a Starbucks?  Slim.  Infinitesimal, even.  That didn't change the fact that Asterin's persistence in getting her in early this morning was thoroughly irritating.
"Just trust me," had been the incessant refrain.  "You won't regret it."  She couldn't help but take her sister's urgence as a slight mockery of her reaction the night before.
Rolling her eyes, Manon sighed impatiently, "I'm fine."  She grabbed her coat off the hook and headed for the door.  "Really, this isn't necessary."
She merely smiled, practically pushing her to the car.
-
"This is stupid," Dorian moaned from where Chaol had him lodged in the hallway.  "Why do I have to be here to meet your stupid girlfriend's stupid little sister?
His best friend smiled his normal 'because-I-know-what's-best-for-you-dipshit' smile, and answered "To humor me?  Besides," he urged, "You never know.  She might be fun to hang around."
He turned away from his best friend coldly, rolling his eyes and burying his shoulder in the wall, having decided that he wasn't just going to stare at the elevator like a chump.
-
Leaning against the handrail, Manon groaned "This is stupid."  She couldn't believe she'd had her sleep cut back an hour before work. “You know I'm going to be here later than anyone else.  Why did you have to make it even longer?"  She missed her bed already and they weren’t even out of the car.
"Because you trust me.  And I'm your evil big sister."  Who you're going to thank endlessly in 5... 4... 3... 2...
-
The elevator dinged and the two girls left the car and Asterin dragged Manon straight for the men leaning against the wall with an absurd amount of pep.  She couldn't even bring herself to mind that her little sister seemed more interested in her shoelaces.  
"Hey, beautiful," he started, planting a chaste kiss to his girlfriend's cheek.  "Manon," Chaol greeted, swatting at Dorian to get his attention.   
Asterin smiled, bumping her hip against her sister.  "Manon, this is Dorian.  He's the senator here."  From his posture, Asterin wondered if he'd fallen asleep.
She looked up with her standard friendly smile and stopped cold, jaw suddenly lax.  She recognized him instantly. The guy from yesterday. Glancing between her sister and Chaol, not sure what to do.  Chaol tapped his wrist and pointed at Dorian.  Asterin nodded and whispered "Say it."
Her tongue grew thick in her mouth.  She shrugged at Chaol.  She knew what she'd said to him, obviously, but all she was sure of was that what he said was on her wrist.  She decided to give it a shot.  She tapped Dorian on the shoulder and repeated the company line one final time:  "Hi.  Welcome to Starbucks, may I take your order?"
The older man whipped around and stared at the girl, ready to lay into her, until he realized that she was holding her wrist out to him.  He read the words in his handwriting over and over again, trying to place why they sounded so familiar until it clicked.  Starbucks yesterday.  When he'd ran out, that's what he said to the barista.  He hadn't even thought to look up before he took off.  Now, he wished more than anything he had.
After the brief silence grew to an uncomfortable length, she repositioned her hand from showing the white ink on her wrist to offering it to Dorian.  "Manon Blackbeak."
"Dorian," he fumbled, reaching out to shake it.  He stared at her for a long time, like he couldn't believe after all this time that she was real.
She smiled, pulling his hand closer and looking down at the etching inside his wrist.  Her handwriting.  Those words.  "I thought I'd never see you again after you ran out of there."
"Guess it was meant to be," he answered.  In that moment, some 10 years after his ink showed up, Dorian really, firmly believed in soulmates.
TOG taglist: @sevenfreckles-for-sevenloves @starborn-faerie-queen @addies-invisible-life
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pengiesama · 3 years
Text
A Ring for a Ring, a Sweet for the Sweet (Fic, TGCF, HC/XL)
Title: A Ring for a Ring, a Sweet for the Sweet Series: Heavenly Official’s Blessing (Tian Guan Ci Fu) Pairing: Hua Cheng/Xie Lian
Summary:
Just as Hua Cheng once gave him a ring to pledge him his life, Xie Lian gives Hua Cheng a ring to pledge him his hole.
Link: AO3
Read on Tumblr!
--
Xie Lian was going into this birthday prepared. He had a plan in his head, a wish in his heart, and many thoughts cursing his dick.
--
This plan, this wish, this curse; it all started one fateful morning about a month ago. You see, the married life came with innumerable pleasures, and one of these was the comfort of a regular morning routine. Summarized, and truncated for length, it went a little like this:
 Step 1: Wake up.
Step 2, Scenario A: San Lang pretending to be asleep, and refusing to break character until Xie Lian provided anywhere between seven to ten morning kisses.
Step 2, Scenario B: San Lang already awake, and distributing morning kisses to Xie Lian’s lips, neck, cock, and other such body parts that would benefit from the application of his tongue.
Step 3: The irrepressible cosmic consequence of either scenario outlined above.
Step 4, Scenario A: San Lang big spoon.
Step 4, Scenario B: Xie Lian big spoon.
Step 5: Helping each other wash, dress, and get ready for the day.
 With Step 1 through Step 4, Scenario B completed, Xie Lian was helping his husband get ready before he had to scurry off to do a few errands. Check on the vegetable garden at the shrine, draw up a few new charms, pop over to the village’s market to see if there were any deals on, put an end to the demon who’d taken up residence in the hills two towns over and who was demanding maiden sacrifices…Xie Lian of course would answer the cries of those in need, but he did wonder, at times, why people were calling upon the God of Scrap-Collecting to slay evil (or at least rough up evil, followed by a stern talking-to). Shouldn’t they be calling upon him for blessings in happening upon excellent and thrifty finds? Ah, well. Always in service of the people.
The lacquered black comb sank thickly into Hua Cheng’s hair, and slid through like a ship through water. Silver chimed with the motions of Xie Lian’s arm. Lately, he’d taken to warming up Hua Cheng’s silver accessories before helping his husband put them on…underneath his sleeping robe, against his bare skin, he was currently sporting one of Hua Cheng’s heavy necklaces and silver belts. Xie Lian never liked the initial cold shock of jewelry against his skin when he was young; brief as the feeling was before his body heat warmed the metal, it was a petty annoyance he always dreaded each morning while still cranky and disoriented from sleep. His poor San Lang had no such respite, with his body’s ghostly chill. Thus, Xie Lian wanted to save his husband such an unpleasantness before a long day of managing his city.
There was, of course, the minor matter that Hua Cheng tended to wear quite a lot of accessories. (And he seemed to only be expanding this tendency after Xie Lian took up the warming habit.) After the necklace and belt were taken care of, he still needed to warm up the bracelets and rings (unthinkable to wear those while tending to San Lang’s beautiful hair), then the earrings and hair accessories, and then the vambraces; these were tricky, and required one-on-one attention. The silver butterflies nesting within the vambraces got excited very easily when Xie Lian touched their home, and if he wasn’t careful, he’d have an armful of butterflies and no vambrace to warm up.
Xie Lian could very easily spend the whole day at this, though his schedule didn’t allow it. Distracted by the movement of the comb through Hua Cheng’s hair, distracted by the low sounds of pleasure Hua Cheng made when Xie Lian absently ran his fingers through the strands, Xie Lian reached out to fumble for one of the many nearby jewelry boxes. Rings, San Lang did need rings to wear with his choice of ensemble today…
Xie Lian’s questing hand came back with a ring; that it was a ring was no question. But…Xie Lian’s brow furrowed as he examined it, turning it this way and that, the silver glinting in the bedroom light. Beautiful, with delicate engravings of blooming flowers across its surface, the quality silver thick and heavy in his palm. But this ring was much too large for his San Lang’s elegant, slender fingers, was it not? Though Xie Lian’s hands were smaller, they weren’t that much smaller, and he could fit both his thumbs inside it easily…
“Gege,” Hua Cheng purred, allowing his hair to fall over his shoulder in an alluring and altogether deliberate manner. “Did you find something you’d particularly like to see me in today?”
Hua Cheng’s gaze fell on the ring that Xie Lian was examining, and his confident, sly expression dropped all at once. His hand twitched, then fisted in his robes; as if he wanted to snatch away the ring but didn’t dare do so. Xie Lian blinked, confused.
“Is this a ring that San Lang wears while in a different skin?” Xie Lian asked. “It’s lovely, but seems much too big for San Lang’s…fing…er…”
Xie Lian trailed off, and the truth of the matter took root in his mind as his cheeks began to burn with a familiar heat. And oh, did those roots find eager and fertile soil.
Now, Xie Lian was inexperienced in bedroom matters, this much was true. But he was not stupid, and he also knew what his husband’s dick looked like at this point. This ring was indeed too large for Hua Cheng’s slender and elegant fingers. But it was just the right size to fit around the base of Hua Cheng’s thick, heavy cock.
“Your Highness,” Hua Cheng croaked. “This one apologizes for leaving such an item in—”
“This is a cock ring,” Xie Lian murmured, as if in a trance state, approaching a level of enlightenment not yet seen.
Hua Cheng’s physical form briefly flickered; hearing His Highness say such words so bluntly, with such an irresistibly flushed face, was very much like being struck by a divine force, staggering in its power. He took a deep breath to regain control of himself, and nodded.
“Yes,” Hua Cheng admitted. “This one is much ashamed to not be able to please His Highness as he deserves, on some nights. I crafted such a crude instrument in hopes that it would help with control, but it still is not up to the task, nor is it worthy of the honor of being used in His Highness’ bed…”
Xie Lian was brought back to reality long enough to refute such a self-abasing statement.
“San Lang always pleases me!” Xie Lian stated firmly. It wasn’t always about lasting for hours! It was about both of them enjoying the experience! First off, his San Lang lasted a perfect amount of time; secondly, even when he did come too fast, it just meant that Xie Lian had that much more come in him, and one of Xie Lian’s primary goals in his immortal life now was to be filled with as much of Hua Cheng’s come as physically possible. And if Xie Lian had to wait hours each time before Hua Cheng would finally come inside…
…but perhaps it was about the challenge. This was something a (formerly) martial god could understand. This was something that could overcome Xie Lian’s shyness, could reach deep within him and seize him by the heart and make him rise to the occasion. The buildup of his husband’s frustration and need, the challenge of overcoming the restriction of the ring, of riding Hua Cheng and filling him with so much pleasure that he would burst forth and break through – just as Hua Cheng had once done to free him from the bonds of his cursed shackles. (But like, with less dying afterwards. And with waaaaaay more come filling up Xie Lian’s insides.) Yes. Yes, this was a challenge Xie Lian was ready to help his San Lang face. They would do it together.
“I’m going to borrow this,” Xie Lian said. “Is that okay?”
“…as it pleases His Highness,” Hua Cheng replied, with no little confusion.
He’d find out soon enough.
--
Xie Lian worked tirelessly, during every free moment, to perfect this most important of spiritual relics: the Incorruptible Chastity Cock Ring. Although last year’s birthday present proved that his sewing skills left something to be desired (and his dear, sweet husband still insisted on wearing that ridiculous belt any chance he got), his metalworking skills, again, proved much more polished. Polished enough to make this ring even more of a sight to behold.
He’d amassed enough followers, and enough donations, to permit him to spend on sourcing quality metal for the project – he of course would not dip into Hua Cheng’s own art supplies, nor his purse. Though both were open to him at all times, that was hardly the spirit meant for a birthday gift! And thus, with silver that was not dug up out of his own grave this time, he’d set to work.
The expertly engraved ring now sported four fine silver chains, from which many chiming seed-shaped silver beads dangled. These silver chains were meant to drape alluringly across Hua Cheng’s muscular thighs and lean hips, and chime with every movement. The chains could be attached to any of Hua Cheng’s silver belts, which Xie Lian considered a very clever foresight on his own behalf. It would be very convenient, this way. (Though it would, of course, mean that a bit of warming up would be needed before he could dress San Lang for the occasion.)
The day of Hua Cheng’s birthday came, and the rush of adrenaline that was warding off Xie Lian’s shyness was beginning to wear off. What was he doing, presenting his husband with such a gift!? My darling, my one and only, my San Lang, here’s a cock ring that you made yourself because you come too fast in bed. Happy birthday! But Xie Lian tried to remember the goal here, the challenge, the pursuit of excellence. Those who ascended were ones who were capable of seeing beyond the limits of what was thought impossible. And Xie Lian so loved dressing Hua Cheng up before a hard day of work.
The moment the midnight hour struck, Ghost City was bright with cheers and fireworks. When Hua Cheng next stepped out of his residence, he would be greeted with a thousand congratulations and well-wishes: Lord Chengzhu, happy birthday!
Great Lord Mayor, happy eight-hundred-twenty-third! If’n I could count that high, I’d lop off the hands of eight hunn’erd twenny third sinners and deck these streets with ‘em!
What a waste of hands! Ya know you can fry those up, doncha!? Or sell them to tourists!
And an occasion such as this calls fer decadence! Like scattering hands all over the streets!! But, for now, Xie Lian had Hua Cheng all to himself.
“San Lang,” Xie Lian whispered into his ear, before kissing it. “Happy birthday. Would you like to open your present?”
Such an offer was a surefire way to get Hua Cheng to stop pretending to be asleep. In an instant, Xie Lian was tackled onto his back on the bed, and pinned in place by the press of Hua Cheng’s lean body and the insistent lips against his own.
“Gege is too kind,” Hua Cheng sighed between kisses. “Too generous. For days I’ve been thinking of nothing but the birthday dinner you promised me, and now gege is telling me that he’s got more gifts up his sleeves?”
Seizing upon the opportunity provided by the wording, Hua Cheng’s greedy hands snuck up the sleeves of Xie Lian’s sleeping robes, squeezing and groping at his arms as he went. The right idea, but the wrong direction…
“It’s…um…” Xie Lian trailed off, his cheeks flaring red. He had a planned script for this. Something about a ring for a ring, sweets for the sweet. The lines were lost to him now. But the intent certainly was not.
Slowly, shyly, Xie Lian slid a hand down the front of his own robes. Hua Cheng’s eye followed the movement raptly, and his touch grew heavier on Xie Lian’s bicep. Taking a moment to steel his courage, Xie Lian ran his fingers along the tie of his robe once, twice, before tugging at it to loosen it and let his robes slip open.
“I wanted to make sure it was warm enough for San Lang to wear comfortably,” Xie Lian explained softly.
Silver glinted through the part of his robe. One of Hua Cheng’s silver belts hung around Xie Lian’s hips, flush against his bare skin. Chiming silver chains dangled from it, leading the eye downward to where they joined at that thick, heavy engraved silver ring. It really was much too big for one’s finger, and still a bit too big for Xie Lian’s own cock. He feared it looked a bit silly – even half-hard as he was, it was clear that there was no way he’d fill it out. Of course, Hua Cheng would have no trouble.
Hua Cheng stared openly, blatantly; hungrily and open-mouthed. His grip on Xie Lian’s bicep was bruising.
“…Your Highness,” he eventually managed to say. His voice was low and raw enough to send a shiver through Xie Lian’s limbs, to make those silver beads chime with the motion of his bare legs sliding against the silk sheets. “Your graciousness knows no bounds. This humble follower doesn’t deserve such a magnificent gift.”
Xie Lian took Hua Cheng’s face in his hands, cradled his cheeks between his palms. He leaned in to press a kiss between Hua Cheng’s brows.
“My husband,” he murmured against Hua Cheng’s skin, his breath warm. “Deserves many such magnificent things.”
The kiss that followed was deep and slow, and full of a wet heat that took Xie Lian from half-hard to fully rigid. The ring still slid off with ease, though Hua Cheng’s fingers were so careful and gentle and slow in their ministrations to remove it that Xie Lian could have cried (or laughed, really) in frustration. Hua Cheng was equally slow and deliberate while undoing the belt tied around Xie Lian’s waist, taking his time, dipping his fingers underneath the belt while he worked to feel the heat radiating off Xie Lian’s abdominals.
“San Lang,” groaned Xie Lian.
Hua Cheng chuckled weakly, and kissed Xie Lian’s throat in recompense. “Gege’s patience is appreciated. I have to wait for my blood to cool before I can wield his gift.”
Xie Lian blinked, curious. “Oh? Is that how it works? Much ashamed, I’ve not much experience. But that does make sense, considering the intent…”
It was Hua Cheng’s turn to groan, and he punctuated it with a dramatic collapse into the pillows next to Xie Lian’s head.
“Gege is not helping with the blood cooling,” Hua Cheng grumbled, with affection clear in the accusation.
“My sincerest apologies,” Xie Lian replied, not sorry at all.
It took some long, painfully and deliciously slow minutes – drawn out by their refusal to stop kissing for the duration – before Hua Cheng’s cock softened enough to slide the ring on. Xie Lian, too, went slowly, carefully, guided by Hua Cheng’s slightly-trembling fingers and the glide of oil to ease any discomfort. When the work was done, Xie Lian squirmed out from under Hua Cheng to survey his handiwork.
His San Lang looked so lovely. The sheen of the oil on his cock, the glinting silver decorating the thick base and draping artfully across his strong thighs. The delicate chimes looked ticklish against his balls; Xie Lian reached out a hand to brush his knuckles against the velvety soft skin there and was rewarded by a delicious groan and squirm.
Oh, before he forgot…there was indeed one more surprise that Xie Lian had for the birthday boy. When he’d set to work on this precious spiritual tool, he’d added some features...
Xie Lian traced both hands along the silver chains, and they shivered with spiritual energy. Hua Cheng wore a priceless expression of shock on his face for a brief moment as he felt the pulse of energy, but had no further opportunity to react before the cock ring itself pulsed once, twice, thrice, more. It continued to pulse around Hua Cheng’s cock in time with the racing beat of Xie Lian’s heart. With each pulse, Hua Cheng’s hips jerked upward involuntarily; with each jerk, those silver chimes rang melodiously. Hua Cheng’s mouth hung open wordlessly, his eye glazed with pleasure that stole his sight and sense.
Very convenient, indeed. Xie Lian could probably just leave him like this and go about his daily errands, secure in the thought that his husband would be waiting for him in bed at home, desperate for relief after hours of tension that threatened to snap him in two. But that wouldn’t be particularly kind to do to him today. The birthday boy would have his release in due time, with only as much teasing as Xie Lian could bear.
“Did I warm it up well enough for San Lang’s comfort?” Xie Lian asked, stretching himself out along Hua Cheng’s side as he jerked and twitched. He stroked his palm along Hua Cheng’s lovely pectorals, down his stomach. He pressed the back of his hand to the silver belt to test its temperature. Xie Lian hmmed thoughtfully and moved to toy with one of the silver chains. “I suppose it’s still a bit chilly. Will you ever forgive me?”
“H…Hhh-highne…ssss…” Hua Cheng managed to slur out, then let out an animalistic moan as the pulses around his cock grew in intensity. Xie Lian made a comforting noise, and kissed Hua Cheng’s temple soothingly. His poor San Lang. It couldn’t be helped; the cock ring’s pulses were tied to Xie Lian’s heartbeat, and there was no controlling that when he was with Hua Cheng.
Xie Lian decided, there and then, that it was time to test the integrity (and the Incorruptible Chastity) of this spiritual artifact. He’d prepared himself before waking Hua Cheng; he thanked himself profusely for this foresight, as he doubted he had the patience to do it now and could hardly ask Hua Cheng to do all the work today. He already had enough to deal with right now.
Hua Cheng’s hands, previously fisted in the silk bedsheets in a vain attempt at controlling himself, flew to seize Xie Lian’s waist as Xie Lian moved to straddle him. Any protests died in his throat as the tip of his cock pressed into Xie Lian’s entrance, already warm and willing and ready. Xie Lian sighed in relief at the stretch and the fullness, and bounced and wriggled his hips until Hua Cheng’s cock was in him fully. He could feel the slight coolness of the silver ring against the rim of his hole, could feel the pulsations of the ring inside and out. Xie Lian gave a full-body shiver, and almost absentmindedly lifted the crystal ring around his neck up to his lips to kiss. The gesture grounded him, it soothed him, it—
“Your Highness…”
The warning growl of that title came too little, too late. Driven mad by the beat of Xie Lian’s heart and the burning heat of his body, Hua Cheng’s grip on Xie Lian’s waist became completely ungentle. His fingers gripped with bruising force, and he bounced Xie Lian on his cock with harsh, fast motions; endlessly chasing a release that would not come, to the tune of chiming silver chains. He pounded as deep into him as he could reach, and seemed as if he could hardly stand having even an inch of him not inside. It was all Xie Lian could do to hold onto Hua Cheng’s shoulders, to hold himself steady even as his thigh muscles began to burn with the strain, to let Hua Cheng fuck into him and use his body as a tool for his pleasure.
The first time Xie Lian came, it only left him hungry for more. The fifth time left him lying limp and slack, sprawled on his back as Hua Cheng’s cock continued to relentlessly fuck him, in and out, with no signs of stopping or slowing. Xie Lian’s insides ached to be soothed by the rush of Hua Cheng’s come. After the eighth time, with his face now pressed into a pillow and Hua Cheng’s cock still tirelessly pumping his prone body, chimes still jingling as brightly and eagerly as they had at the start, Xie Lian himself began to beg for that as well.
“S-s-sssan Lang…” Xie Lian could hardly get the words out, his tongue felt thick and heavy and useless in his mouth. “S-san Lang, need…need it…”
Hua Cheng moaned against Xie Lian’s neck, and briefly paused in his efforts to cover every inch of it with bite marks and hickies. His mouth moved to Xie Lian’s ear; biting it once before he spoke into it, sounding rich and low and just as wrecked as Xie Lian.
“Anything His Highness needs, anything, anything, I’ll give it – mnnnhh, mmm – oh, Your Highness, Your Highness is so good to me, so good to this San Lang…mmh, feels so perfect inside, does it feel as good for gege? Is he ready to come again for me?”
Xie Lian let out a desperate moan as Hua Cheng expertly adjusted his angle to aim his thrusts against that spot inside of him. He wouldn’t last much longer, he wouldn’t, he couldn’t, and he didn’t think he’d be able to stay conscious for round ten. And Hua Cheng still hadn’t come even once inside of him – Xie Lian could endure many hardships, but this was too much, too much!
“San Lang! I want it, I want that!” Xie Lian wailed with the desperation of a dying man. “Ah-ahhhh, I need it, I need you to give it all to me, please, please, won’t you please – ohh! Please, please have mercy, San Lang-gege, please have mercy and fill me up…”
Xie Lian’s heart was racing like a parade drum. He could only imagine the mayhem being wrought upon his husband’s dick by the cock ring’s enchantment. But he trusted his husband – he trusted him to break through, break through with him and see the limits of the highest heavens –
Hua Cheng let out a shout and a shockwave of spiritual energy strong enough to blow back the curtains on the bed, and released into Xie Lian enough come that Xie Lian felt his stomach grow taut with it. He felt his eyes roll back into his head, and let himself pass out midway through his ninth orgasm.
His conscious mind swam back after some time, and he found himself bundled against Hua Cheng’s strong chest. Morning was just breaking outside the window, but today was a day for sleeping in. Xie Lian breathed in his husband’s scent and let himself be lulled back to sleep. He still had to make that birthday dinner today, and needed to regain his strength.
--
“Oh? Did something happen out here?”
While things were stewing, Xie Lian needed to make a quick run to the market to pick up some supplies he’d forgotten. Outside of Paradise Manor, he found Yin Yu with a broom, sweeping a path through the severed hands that had been scattered on the road outside. If Xie Lian were to make a rough estimate, there were approximately eleven hundred sixty-seven of them. There was also a crudely written banner hung in the blossoming trees on the roadside, that read: HAPPAY BARTH DAY LARD CHENGZHU.
“They do try, don’t they?” Xie Lian said to Yin Yu, fondly. “Once I’m back from the market, I’ll help you clean up out here.”
“They do try,” Yin Yu agreed. “And no, no, Your Highness has business to attend to.”
Xie Lian smiled and gave a grateful bow. “Your Highness Yin Yu is welcome to join us for dinner. I’ll save some stew for him! Please don’t hesitate to drop by later.”
Yin Yu watched as Xie Lian expertly stepped around the hands littering the streets, then disappeared into the bustle of the Ghost City market. He gave a deep, resigned sigh and returned to sweeping.
--
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thewayshedreamed · 4 years
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This Time— Part 6
A Nessian Fan Fic
Fic Masterlist
This chapter offers some additional insight into Nesta’s thought process and sheds a little light on the ongoing process her emotional development has become. I hope it comes through!
This is somewhat of a “building” chapter so that we can get Nessian to the crest, so to speak. Part 7 is already written and only needs some editing, so it’s possible that I’ll be doing a double update today ☺️ They certainly have a lot to discuss, and once I started writing, I couldn’t stop. 😂 Anyway, enough of me. Enjoy!
Links to the previous parts:
Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 ||
Warnings for grief related to the loss of a parent and some strong language.
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Around 11:00 PM, Nesta decided she couldn’t be alone with her thoughts anymore. She was ruminating on similar memories and effectively raking herself over the coals. Although she knew any one of her friends would be there for her no matter the time of day, she picked up her phone to call the one she knew would most likely be awake at this hour.
“Hello?” Azriel’s raspy voice came through the phone.
“Were you asleep?! Since when do you go to bed early?” Her surprise was obvious by her tone. What the hell? He’s never in bed before midnight.
“Nes. Always a pleasure.” Azriel breathed a chuckle into the phone. “I usually wouldn’t be. I’m.. umm.. at a friend’s house tonight.”
Nesta gasped and dropped her voice. “Oh my gods. Az, were you on a date?! Am I interrupting?” She clapped her free hand over her forehead. “I’m the worst. I’m sorry.”
Another chuckle from Azriel. “You don’t have to whisper, you know. She can’t hear you. You’re not interrupting anything. I was asleep when you called, but I’m out on the couch now. What’s up?”
”If you were asleep, then that counts as interrupting! Are you sure?”
”Yes. Just, maybe the short version?” His tone was tentative, almost as if he felt guilty asking her to keep it concise at 11 PM. No one truly deserved Azriel as their friend.
“I can do that. So, here it is. I’ll save you the long, tedious trip through my brain.” She paused for half a second to take a breath. “I’m in love with Cassian.” She let out a quiet groan for effect.
”Mhmm...” The lilting of his voice implied that he was waiting for something like the punchline of a joke; the unknown part of her statement.
Her breath caught. “I kind of expected more of a reaction.”
”Did you? I thought there was more to it.” He seemed entirely neutral in that grating way of his.
”How did you know?!” She asked, incredulously.
”You told me.”
“Mm.. I don’t think so. When?” Now she was actually confused. Did she make some kind of drunken confession at Rita’s? She would remember having this revelation before now.
“At brunch. When we were driving home.”
”What are you talking about?!” Her voice was definitely higher pitched than it had been previously. She was anxious to hear his response, thinking he had surely dreamed this.
”Nesta. We were in my car, backing out of the parking lot. You asked me, ‘Why couldn’t we be the ones to fall in love?’ Or something along those lines. I thought that you were using some cryptic way of telling me because it implied two parties. Why do you think I hit the brakes so hard?” He seemed impatient, as if he was telling her the most obvious thing in the world.
“I thought maybe the question weirded you out! I didn’t even realize what I said, to be honest. How the actual fuck do you notice tiny things like that?” She didn’t wait on his response. He would know it was rhetorical. “Now my problem is this: I think he’s dating someone, so I’ve lost my chance.” She briefly told him what she had overheard the night of Elain’s birthday, her voice starting to crack toward the end.
”Hm. He hasn’t said anything to me about that, but I could see why he would wait being that you and I are close. But honestly, I don’t know that you could ever lose your chance with Cassian, Nes.”
She didn’t have anything to say to that. She simply sat there, playing with the corner of her throw blanket and hoping he would continue. He seemed to sense her discomfort and started talking again.
“I think you’ll regret it if you don’t talk to him. But, if I can offer my opinion, maybe wait a little while so that you know you’re absolutely sure this is what you want. I don’t know how he would handle it if you decided it’s not what you want.”
She felt herself prickle with defensiveness. “I wouldn’t do that to him, Az. Of course I’m sure. It only took me an eternity to figure this shit out.”
Azriel responded in a soothing tone he so often used with her. “I know. But remember, you’re not the one he talks to about you. I’m just looking out for my brother. Maybe let it marinate, yeah?”
She knew his intentions were pure, and she couldn’t really blame him for being protective. Before she could respond, she heard a feminine voice in the background ask: “Az, everything okay?”
She heard him pull the phone away from his face to answer. “Oh, yeah. All good. It’s Nesta.”
Delayed by her scattered brain and the copious amount of wine, the identity of the voice finally hit her full force.
”IS THAT ELAIN?!” She sat up straighter as if it would allow her to hear them more readily.
She heard Azriel laugh, followed by a shuffling on the other end.
“Hello? Nesta? Everything okay?” Nesta could hear the genuine concern in her voice.
“Hey, El. Everything’s fine! Sorry to crash your date. It seems we have quite a bit to talk about. Very soon.”
It took Elain a couple of seconds to respond, and Nesta could hear the smile in her voice. “Yeah. I think we do. Someone told me I should just talk to him. Turns out that they were right.” She paused, waiting for an “I told you so” from Nesta. She didn’t have the energy. “You know you can talk to me about Cassian, too, right?”
Nesta shut her eyes tightly and shook her head. “Of course. I’m sorry. I’ve been leaning on Az since our fight, and I honestly haven’t had the energy to bring it up beyond that. But I do want to talk to you. And Feyre. It’s just been...hard.”
“I can imagine. It’s hard to remember a time before you and Cass. It’s like the end of an era or something. Just know that we’re here.” Her voice was soft, laced with worry and a desire to help her older sister.
”Maybe for now,” Nesta teased, “but you may not have much time to chat these days.”
She knew she was blatantly deflecting, but El’s words had caused tears to prick her eyes yet again. It’s hard to remember a time before you and Cass. She realized how true it was, and what upset her the most was that she knew she didn’t want to know a time without Cassian.
The call wrapped up with more gentle teasing between the sisters, and eventually, embarrassing Azriel a bit over speakerphone. She told them she loved them and promised to keep them updated on how she was feeling. Her heart felt lighter once she finally ended the call, thanks to the laughter they managed to pull from her.
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Christine Archeron’s death anniversary fell on a Tuesday that year, and Nesta awoke with a similar irritation as last year— death anniversaries should never fall on weekdays. She went through the familiar motions as any other morning, headed to work, and concentrated on her various tasks she was expected to juggle at any given time. As appearances went, it looked like any other ordinary day to those around her, so the extra heaviness remained hers alone to carry.
On her lunch break, she got a chance to pull her phone to check her messages and mindlessly scroll through social media. She had been focused on scrolling for so long that her phone took her by surprise when it vibrated in her hand. She tapped the notification by reflex and found herself studying the sender’s name as if it was some sort of mistake.
Cassian: Thinking about you today. I know it’s a rough one. Keep your head up. Christine would have it no other way ❤️
Nesta read the text several times in a row; just to make sure it was real. It had been so long since he’d contacted her intentionally, and it made her happy that he still thought to reach out today. It simultaneously made her a little sad; however, because it was yet another reminder of what she’d lost in him. That was an issue to deal with later.
Nesta: Of course you are, because you’re the perfect human, and I don’t deserve you. Thanks, Cass 💕 Means the world to me to hear from you. Mom really loved you, and I know she would appreciate you looking out for us.
She hesitated over the send button for several seconds before deciding to go through with it. It felt so weird to intentionally script any type of message to him being that they had spent most of their relationship entirely uncensored. Everything about it felt wrong— she couldn’t act natural with him because it wasn’t appropriate anymore, yet she didn’t feel right having to draft and redraft their communication. It was all so fucked, and she was tired of this odd limbo they stayed in.
She reflected on her conversation with Azriel and Elain on the night she had unintentionally crashed their date. She knew that they both held strong points about her situation and wouldn’t advise her to try to repair things if they knew it was a lost cause. She acknowledged that Azriel, specifically, knew more than he was at liberty to tell her. That being the case, she decided that was evidence in favor of hashing things out with Cassian. It wasn’t long before she was lost in her own thoughts, her food entirely forgotten.
I’ve spent my entire life trying to ensure I didn’t need anyone. I never wanted to depend heavily on another person in a way that I couldn’t manage on my own. But that’s not really the case anyway, right? I’ve managed fine these few weeks, but that’s the thing. I’ve managed. Why do I try to insist that’s enough for me?
But what if the door is closed? What if this was Cassian’s final push, and he’s gone? I don’t know Alis, and she could be wonderful. She probably appreciates the shit out of him and saw immediately that he’s not the average person. She probably knows how special he is. She probably beams anytime he enters a room and tries to take care of his heart in any way she can. She’s probably fucking delightful.
But does that really compete with history? I guess if that history is filled with turmoil, it could. She’ll never know the Cassian that was a freshman in high school— braces and curly hair, still a head taller than most of the other boys in class. She won’t remember how he hit his second growth spurt the summer after sophomore year, where he started to fill out and caught the attention of any girl with a pulse. She doesn’t know what it’s like when he’s truly angry with his dad and the world. She doesn’t know the full range of his eclectic music tastes or the guilty pleasures he sings depending on his mood. She didn’t do the leg work to reconcile the tough, intimidating exterior when he gets upset with the gentle soul beneath. There’s no way she knows when his humor and his laughter are distractions from his pain rather than when they’re genuine. She can’t love him like I do. Im-fucking-possible.
She was pulled abruptly out of her head, and incredible jealousy, by her alarm. It was time to go back to work and finish out the day, and she hoped it passed as quickly as possible. She silently chastised herself for piling this emotional time bomb on today of all days as she threw away her lunch and walked out of the break room.
So much for leaving this issue for later.
She resolved to put all of these thoughts back into their little box until she had the emotional energy to open the lid once again. Whenever the hell that would be.
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The rest of the day zoomed by at a blissful pace, thank the gods. In fact, when Nesta glanced at the clock, she realized it was several minutes after 5:00 PM. She clocked out, grabbed her things, and climbed into her car. She took a deep breath, mentally preparing herself to make the drive out to the cemetery. She wasn’t sure what time Elain had been able to go by, but Nesta had agreed to meet Feyre at 5:30 to pay their respects. It was becoming a standing tradition, where they would make their short visit whenever they could during the day and follow with dinner together as a family.
She made it with a few minutes to spare, so she took that time to sit with her mom one-on-one. She gave her a brief update on her life, told her how much she loved and missed her, and gently brushed any leaves or grass clippings off of her headstone. There were fresh flowers in her vase, something she noted each year on her death anniversary. Any other time of year, they kept seasonally appropriate faux flowers to make sure her site was properly decorated. She made a mental note to offer to contribute to the fresh arrangement in the years following when she saw her family at dinner. They were always taken care of before she made it out to the cemetery, and she didn’t want to risk forgetting for the next year. She leaned into the arrangement, taking in the various floral scents emanating from the blooms in the bouquet. There was a myriad of vivid colors, wildflowers throughout, and Nesta loved how true to her mother’s spirit they were.
She turned when she heard car doors and saw Feyre approaching with Rhysand. She stood, extending an arm out to her baby sister, who accepted it readily and rested her head on her shoulder. They wrapped their arms around each other, and Rhysand stood nearby, resting his hand on Feyre’s opposite shoulder. They stood together for several minutes until Nesta excused herself to allow Feyre some time alone with their mom as well.
She drove to her father’s house where she found Elain already setting the table for dinner. They worked together quietly, making sure they had plenty of place settings for everyone. Azriel offered his help to carry various dishes of food to the dining table and took his seat next to Elain once it was all settled. Almost as if on cue, Feyre and Rhysand walked into the house and took their seats as well. The dinner started off quiet considering the somber mood, but Feyre was the first to break the tension when she started to tell stories from their childhood. In a matter of moments, their home was filled with animated story telling and loud bouts of laughter, and Nesta couldn’t think of a better way to honor her mom’s love of life.
As everyone finished up, she suddenly remembered her mental note from earlier. She waited for a natural lull in conversation, then commented softly, “Mom’s flowers were beautiful, you guys. You did an amazing job.”
”They were really perfect. They couldn’t have been more ‘Christine’ if you tried,” Feyre remarked.
“Elain, Dad. I’m not sure which of you took care of them this year, but would you let me take care of next time? I haven’t contributed since she passed, and I’d really like to.”
Mr. Archeron softly shook his head back and forth, communicating to Nesta that it hadn’t been him. Nesta adjusted her gaze to Elain who looked just as confused.
“Oh. Nes, I assumed it was one of you. I didn’t... I didn’t order them. I wished I had.” She looked down at her hands, and Azriel placed a supportive arm across the back of her chair.
“Okay... so who did?” She glanced around the table from person to person, but no one took any credit. It was Rhys who spoke up first, clearing his throat to master his voice.
“You don’t know?”
”Obviously.” She looked to Feyre for support. What the hell is that supposed to mean? Feyre said nothing, watching Rhysand talk with rapt attention.
When he spoke again, it was cautious, as if his words may startle her. “Nesta. The flowers are from Cassian. He’s done them every year since Mrs. Christine died.”
She was suddenly short of breath. Everyone’s attention snapped to Rhys, including her father’s. Her sisters and Azriel were looking at Rhysand with stunned expressions, their eyes flicking to her face occasionally.
“What? How could you know— why would you know, when we don’t? What the fuck is going on?” She was falling over her own words, struggling to form any cohesive thought.
”I’m so sorry,” Rhysand glanced around the room for the first time, realizing he had everyone’s attention. “The only reason I knew was because he asked me to make sure they made it from the flower shop to her gravesite the year he had knee surgery. He asked me to keep it to myself then, but I figured by now he would have said something to at least one other person.” He looked down into his plate, various emotions playing over his handsome face. Feyre leaned over to comfort him, knowing he was likely embarrassed to be the reason the air had changed so dramatically.
Nesta’s head was swimming, emotions roiling from a million different directions. She knew anger was cheap and unfair, but she pulled on that tether as hard as she could to make sure she could navigate everything she was processing. She was on her feet suddenly, pushing her chair away from the table and walking toward her keys.
“I have to go.” She couldn’t be in here anymore. The room was too small, the walls were too close. Too many people. She picked up the pace, flinging the door open and shutting it hard behind her. She was down the porch steps when she heard the door open again. Azriel’s voice followed her.
”Nesta. Where are you going? Nesta, stop!” He had jogged lightly to catch up with her, and he tugged her gently by the wrist to stop her. She spun on him quickly, eyes flaring and brimming with tears.
“Anywhere but here! What the fuck was that, Az?”
He said nothing; looked down at his own feet as he shook his head.
“Cassian has some fucking nerve, you know that? Why is he insisting upon himself?” Her voice was lowered and had taken on an almost eerie quality; the calm before the proverbial storm.
“Nes, I don’t think he meant to upset you. It sounds like it’s something he’s made somewhat of a tradition. Maybe he just wanted to be sure and see it through.”
”He doesn’t get to do that anymore, Azriel. He doesn’t get to butt-dial me while he makes date plans with some girl, then turn around and send flowers to my dead mother. What am I supposed to think about that? And how would that make his girlfriend feel?” Azriel pulled her into a hug at that, resting his chin on top of her head. He didn’t answer her. There was nothing to say.
She pulled away from him, gripping her keys, and walked toward her car. “I’m out. Tell them I love them, and I’ll call tomorrow.” She nodded her chin toward the house, climbed into her car, and backed out of the driveway.
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She wasn’t sure how long she’d driven before she found herself in his driveway. She knew it hadn’t been very long considering the sun was still clinging to the end of the day. She honestly didn’t remember making the conscious decision to come here, likely fueled by anger and muscle memory more than anything else. She was still so frustrated at her situation, her emotions spilling over and refusing to be put into that stupid fucking box anymore. The worst part was that, as mad as she was with him, she so badly wanted to see him. She wished the circumstances were less complicated so that she could knock, ask for a hug and some tea, and lay on his couch. They were a hell of a long way from those people now.
She loosed a breath, puffing her cheeks with air and exhaling slowly. Just before she peeled her head from the headrest to get out, his front door opened. He opened it most of the way, then leaned against the door jamb on his shoulder. He had his hands in the pockets of his sweats and one of his ankles crossed casually over the other. For a moment, she only looked at him, unable to move or offer any type of acknowledgement. She took in the charcoal henley he was wearing, unbuttoned save for the very last one. The small flap of the opening leaned to the side, revealing the base of his neck and the beginning of his tattoos. He looked so very Cassian, casual and laid-back, that she struggled to keep her emotions level at the mere sight of him. His hair was down, looking like he had just run his fingers through it with its deep part and how it fell haphazardly around his face. He was wearing his reading glasses, she noticed, the thick frames highlighting the sharp angle of his cheekbones and the wide set of his jaw. He gave her a soft smile, and cocked his head to the side and back in invitation. She could almost hear him gently telling her to “get in here”.
Too late to turn back now.
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A/N: Alrighty, hope y’all enjoyed this chapter, even with minimal Nessian. The next chapter(s) will more than make up for it, though! I’m hoping to have max Nessian to y’all ASAP. A million thanks to all of you who continue to follow this au. Your comments/ feedback have meant the world to me!
If you’d like to be tagged, feel free to comment, reblog, or send a message! I’d be happy to add you to the list. If I’ve accidentally left you off or there are issues with your tag, let me know, and I’ll look into it! Comments and constructive criticism are welcome (even encouraged)!
Tags:
@polireader // @lord-douglas-the-third // @justgiu12 // @notyournymphetish // @sjm-things // @strangeenemy // @iammissstark // @keshavomit // @sjmships // @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks // @dusty-lightbulb // @texas-shaped-waffle-maker // @julemmaes // @charincharge // @superspiritfestival // @awesomelena555 // @sleeping-and-books // @hizqueen4life // @maastrash // @bookstantrash // @rhyswhitethorn // @grace-k-sterling // @sayosdreams // @sis-it-dont-add-up // @ladywitchling // @b00kworm // @courtofjurdan
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Too Loose And You’ll Lose It
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Ch 2- I’m Not Jealous, Why Would I Be Jealous
Co-written with @icanfeelastormbrewing​
Summary: The Losers run their first mission together since they bust the Child Sex Trafficking Ring a few months ago, and things don’t quite go according to plan, leading to some nasty tension between Jake and Stella. As time progresses the rift increases leading Jake to make a decision about the nature of his and Stella’s relationship, and the consequences of his decision lead Stella to make one of her own…
Warnings: Bad Language words. Some angst and 2 dumbasses so afraid to admit their feelings to one another, they’d rather ignore them completely…
Pairing: Jake Jensen x OFC Stella Stevenson.
A/N:  Yeah, yeah, we’re sorry…but what would our fics be without the standard angst and dumbassery…and let’s face it, Jake IS a total dumbass. A lovable dumbass, but still a dumbass. Also, in this is a lot of Creative License. There’s limited detail about the CIA base online (dur) but I do have a fairly good grasp of UK Military codes and security levels as I worked on a lot of bases so we’re running with that…if it’s not directly the same over in the US then…sorry not sorry!
And yes, our other OC in here is shamelessly basically Mr Evans himself...
TLAYLI Masterlist // Main Masterlist 
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 August 2007
“OK Losers, let’s fuck this shit up and get home. I got a date in less than 23 hours.” Clay grinned at Pooch who let out a chuckle.
“You sure don’t wanna miss that…she’s volatile.” Roque’s soft baritone came back over the coms.
“Yeah, which means I’d rather not be late.” Clay replied.
“Good call Clay, I’d hate to be picking up the pieces of you like I had to do with Pooch when he missed Future Mrs Pooch’s birthday last month…”  Jensen replied, looking at Pooch as he sat in the van, laptop open “How is Little Pooch performing since she ripped your balls off?”
Pooch glared at him and elbowed him harshly in the ribs “Ouch, Pooch be gentle!” Jensen rubbed at his side, wincing.
Clay rolled his eyes as Pooch and Jensen started bickering between themselves, Cougar’s soft snickering echoed down the coms from his vantage point perched on the building next door. “Ok, seriously, we’re trying to work here and all I can hear is you lot.” Stella hissed, “Can you focus up?”
“Sorry Arty.” Pooch said, shooting one last glare at Jensen who simply arched an eyebrow and sniffed slightly, tapping at the keyboard.
“And I can see you.” Jensen grinned as the CCTV footage of the inside of the office flicked onto the screen “Wave for the Camera Stel…”
At his words, Stella turned to look at the camera which was above her in the corner of the room and flipped him off. Clay gave a snort.
“That’s not a wave sweetheart.” Jake said and she let out a growl.
“Jensen, I swear to God…”
“Enough you two.” Clay groaned “Roque, Arty get on with it. Cougar, sit-rep on the auction.”
“Still going on…” Cougar obliged “Everyone still in the main room.”
“Jakey…” Stella spoke, and as they watched she began to search the room as Roque kept watch at the door. “Are you sure it’s in here?”
“Yup…” Jensen said “The signal says you’re right by it.”
On the screen Stella paused and looked at the large, ornamental cabinet against the right wall. She stooped to examine the lock and then snorted. “Standard dead bolt.”
“You think they’d be a little more careful…” Pooch mused, watching the footage on the laptop.
“Well to be fair they have a lot of security on the door” Stella replied, and with that hitched the skirt of the tight, figure hugging midnight blue body-con dress she was wearing up slightly and retrieved a tiny device from the top of her stockings.
Jake gave a groan, and then a little yelp as Pooch slapped him round the back of the head. “Pooch man…like, didn’t you see that?”
“Shut up!” Clay said, glaring at him, his eyes then flicking back to the screen as Stella began to wrestle with the lock of the cabinet.
“Boss, they’re wrapping up. Cougar spoke. “The device has sold…I got eyes on our middle man…”
“Ok…” Stella said, and they watched as she gave the little picking device a twist to the right before she sharply jabbed it downwards, then up. Then she gave a little “yes” of triumph and yanked the door open, only to then give a groan of frustration.“Shit.”
“Shit, what’s shit?” Roque asked, and Clay saw him turn back to look at her from where he had been peeking out of the door.
“It’s in a damned case…”  She said, yanking it out and dropping it on the desk, crouching down so she was eyelevel with the locks. “These are harder to pick than a fucking padlock.”
“You got company heading your way.” Cougar spoke “2 guys, armed, approaching from your left.”
“Fuck.” Clay mumbled, as Jensen tapped another button and a smaller viewing box appeared in the top right of the monitor displaying footage of the corridor.
“Want me to drop them boss?” Cougar asked.
“Let’s wait a bit, see if we can get out clean.” Clay said. “But be ready just in case.”
“Got about 40 seconds tops until they turn the corner and I won’t have a shot.”
“Roger.” Clay said
“Once Cougar loses sight we have about another 60 seconds before they hit your position.” Jake said, his eyes flashing as he watched the CCTV of the two men walk down the corridor before his eyes moved back to the larger footage box of the room Stella was in. “Come on Stel…”
“I’m going as fast as I can…” she grumbled, twisting the device in the fiddly locks. One of them sprang open and she hastily moved to the other.
It was deadly silent, Jensen holding his breath as his nerves started to get the better of him. Roque and Stella were both unarmed, they had to be to get into the auction in the first place. The only reason Stella had managed to get that lock pick in through the metal detectors was that it was made out of a specialist, plastic resin. His right hand rested over his mouth, fingers pulling at the whiskers on his goatee as his knee began to jerk slightly.
“Ok I got it…” Stella said, and she grabbed the large, metal hard-drive, flipping it over. “Jake now what?”
“The back should screw off.” He said, watching as she flipped it over, dropped it on the desk and hastily worked at the screw positioned at the top.
“I lost sight.” Cougar said.
“Ok, grab the drive and get of there.” Clay instructed and at that point Roque spun back into the room, making to pick it up but Stella slapped his hand away.
“Arty, what…”
“If we do that we’ve no chance of tracking this back via the middle man to the buyer…” she shook her head, still working at the screw.
“Our priority was retrieving the device.” Clay said, “The buyer is a bonus.”
“Stella, do what he says.” Jake said, swallowing nervously “Get out of there, now!”
“No, I almost got this…” Stella mumbled and with a final twist of her wrist the back sprang open. Quick as a flash the three men in the truck watched as Roque pulled off his watch, twisted the back of it and retrieved the data chip inside, handing it to Arty.
“Lift up the large, flat circuit board in the middle.” Jake said, and she followed his instructions, quickly swapping the chips out. She then hastily screwed the back on before jamming it back in the case. She snapped the lock shut, before she rammed it back in the cupboard.
“30 seconds…” Jake muttered, “Stel…come on…”
She didn’t reply, instead she quickly locked the cabinet door and Roque grabbed her hand and they ran into the corridor, running in the opposite direction to the approaching danger.
Jensen hit a button, flipping the footage of the corridor so it filled the screen and felt his blood run cold. He could see the corridor was long. And there was no way Roque and Stel would make it to the corner at the bottom before the men spotted them.
“They’re not gonna make it…” he muttered, and all 3 of them in the van stood up, grabbing their guns.
“Cougar…” Clay instructed as they emerged from the van.
“I’m by the gates” he said simply and Clay cocked his gun.
“Roque, Arty try and hide until we get in there…” he said simply as they sprinted across the road towards where Cougar was waiting, all the time listening to the chatter on the coms.
“Door, door…” Roque muttered “Shit it’s locked…”
“Roque…” Stella hissed.
“What?”
“Shut up and…”
Her voice cut off and Jensen heard a noise on his comms, a noise that sounded very much like…
Oh hell, no.
“Are they…is she…” he looked at Pooch as besides him Cougar started chuckling “Are they kissing?” Jensen wheeled round to look at Clay “Tell me, that’s not kissing I can hear!”
Clay shrugged as Jensen pulled a face, making a disgusted snort through his nose. “Stel, are you kissing Roque? What the fuck-“
“Hey, what the hell are you 2 doing back here?” an unfamiliar voice sounded in Jensen’s ears, followed by the loud noise of lips smacking and he looked at Pooch, his mouth hanging open.
“Sorry…we just…erm…” Stella giggled, “Yeah, we…”
“Can’t keep my hands off her” Roque chuckled, and Jensen couldn’t help the growl that bubbled from his throat at the words “Can you blame me? She’s a stunner, right?”
“Yeah, well, you shouldn’t be back here.”
“I know, we’re really sorry…I guess, well, I guess the excitement and the champagne…just got me a little…” Stella trailed off, giggling again.
Pooch grinned as Cougar winked at Jensen who’s jaw was set. He could picture exactly the face Stella was making, batting her eyelids all innocently, biting her lip.
And she’d just kissed Roque.
Fucker.
“Go on, get out of here…” the man’s voice instructed Roque and Stella and Roque said something back that Jensen didn’t quite catch as he pulled his ear piece out and turned off his coms link.
“Ok, back to the van.” Clay ordered, looking around at Pooch, Cougar and Jensen, who’s expression looked like that of a bulldog licking piss of a nettle. As the 4 of them headed back down the small lane to the non-descript Cable Company van, Clay shared a glance with Pooch who simply raised his eyebrows. Over the past 3 months since Stella had moved to the base in Virginia, the dynamic between her and Jensen had been the subject of immense puzzlement for the team. Stella had assured Clay when she joined that whatever had been going on was over, as they hadn’t seen each other for a year, but it was clear to see that them being in such close proximity of one another had thrown fuel on the allegedly damp fire.
For all intents and purposes the team basically agreed that they might as well actually be dating. They spent their evenings together, watched movies, went home for the same weekends… the whole “friends with benefits” thing they had going on was also complete bullshit as neither of them was seeing anyone else. Clay got the distinct impression, however, that Jensen was the driving force behind it not being official but here he was acting like a total brat because she’d had to kiss Roque as part of her cover. It was fucking ridiculous, but until either of them ended it or admitted their feelings, there was nothing he could do.  
“We’re out. Heading to you now.” Stella sounded in his ear just as Jensen opened the rear door to the van.
“Good.” He said with a smile as he climbed into the back of the can. “Nice work guys. All of you, job well done.” He said, nodding.
“Yeah, especially you Roque from the sounds of things!” Pooch quipped and Cougar gave a snort as Jensen slammed the ruggedized laptop shut.
“Watch it, that’s worth more than your annual pay check.” Clay pointed at Jensen, then to the laptop.
“Ah don’t mind him Clay, he’s just a little jealous.” Pooch teased.
“Jealous? I’m not jealous.” Jake said, far too quickly “Why would I be jealous?”
“Because Roque just totally tongued your girl” Cougar grinned, making Pooch snigger. Clay rolled his eyes.
“She’s not my girl.” Jensen snapped, and at that exact moment the door to the van slid open. Jensen turned to look at Stella, and he inwardly groaned as he knew full well from the expression on her face she’d heard him. But her outward slip was quick, and she recovered herself fast, stepping into the van closely flowed by Roque.
“Oooh, someone kissed someone.” Pooch grinned and Roque glared at him.
“What are you, 5?”
Stella flopped onto one of the fold down seats in the back, and took the water Clay handed her with a mumbled thanks.
“You ok?” he asked her.
“Yeah.” She nodded “I’m fine. Was just a close one.”
“Can say that again.” Pooch said and Stella rolled her eyes.
“Alright, knock it off.” Clay said, looking at her and then to Jensen who looked like a sulky teenager, and it was too good an opportunity to miss, so with a smirk he added “Otherwise Jensen’s gonna have a fit and as annoying as he is, we need him.”
“Like he cares.” Stella mumbled, and Jake glared at her, positively shooting daggers with his eyes across the van.
Roque chuckled, more amused at Jensen’s attitude than anything “Well if he doesn’t care he’s an idiot. You’re a damned good kisser Arty.”
Stella looked at him, and raised her eyebrow. “Glad I met with your approval Roque.”
Cougar nudged her and she looked at him as he nodded towards Roque, tipping his hat slightly “How was it for you?”
“A solid 7 and a half outta 10.” She shrugged and Clay, Pooch and Cougar erupted into laughter at Roque’s indignant look.
“7 and a half?”
“I docked half a point for the fact you bumped your head into mine…” she shrugged “And it would have been a 9 if you’d felt my ass.”
Pooch banged on the dash of the van, howling with laughter as Clay chuckled deeply, shaking his head. Cougar grinned at Roque who himself gave a snort, and Stella turned her head to look at Jake. Her eyes locked onto his to find him simply looking at her, not a shred of amusement on his face. Eventually he raised his eyebrows and looked away, taking a deep breath.
Stella rolled her eyes and swallowed. Ok, that had been a bit out of order, but hearing what he had said just before had hurt her. Yes, she knew she wasn’t ‘his girl’, she hadn’t been for a while but if she was honest she was struggling with that, and was fast coming to the conclusion that she couldn’t keep doing what she was doing.
The trouble was, she wasn’t sure she was strong enough to end it.
*****
As it turns out, the decision was taken out of Stella’s hands. Upon return to base, the relationship between her and Jake grew increasingly icy over the following week or so. They had no contact outside of work, and even in work it was civil at best. Stella was angry at Jake’s behaviour, how pathetic he was being over the whole Roque thing, a kiss that had been nothing more than an undercover distraction, but more than anything she was hurt. It was clear to her that he didn’t care about her like he used to. Things had already shifted between them dramatically since that evening a few months ago back home after they’d been out for drinks with Pooch and Jolene. He’d become a little more aloof so to speak, and whilst they still hung out, did all the things they used to do as best friends, and still fucked, she’d noticed how he was less affectionate before and after. Almost like he had deliberately put up a wall to remind her that this was simply an arrangement, so in her mind, especially after his outburst in the van following the latest mission, he had absolutely no right to be pissed at her for kissing or going with anyone, regardless. But, after a fortnight or so of being treated to Jake’s cold stares, being intentionally ignored in conversations, and being subjected to watching him attempting to flirt with any female he came across, Stella went into self-preservation mode and avoided hanging around with any of them outside of work as much as she could.
August ticked into September, and it was almost a month or so after the mission when Clay rocked into the little office the Losers used on the base and Stella smiled at him, looking up from a report she had been writing on a couple of recruits she’d been asked to train.
“I didn’t know you were back.” She smiled as he perched on the edge of her desk.
“Got in this morning.” He replied, “Where’s the rest of the team?”
“Pooch is on Drill Ops, Cougar is on the shooting range and as for Jensen, your guess is as good as mine. I haven’t spoken to him in ages. In fact, I don’t even know if he’s in the State or not.”
“Still?” Clay groaned “Oh come on Arty, don’t you think this has gone on long enough? When are you gonna sort stuff out?”
“When he grows up and apologises for being a jerk.”
“So basically never.” Clay rolled his eyes.
Stella shrugged “I don’t want to talk about it Clay.”
“Fine, whatever.” Clay sighed, “Do you reckon you could at least try to be civil though? It’s gonna make running this team hard work if you two are at each other’s throats. And I don’t wanna have to ask one of you to leave.”
She looked at him, and he stuck his bottom lip out and she sighed before she turned back to her computer “I’ll think about it.”
“Suppose that’s better than a flat out ‘Fuck off, Clay…” he rolled his eyes, hopping off the desk and ruffling her hair. Stella ducked out of the way, swatting at his hand. “Oh, before I go, you got the reports on the Atlanta job?”
“Yeah, they’re in the Red Link area…” Stella pushed her chair back and stood up, smoothing down her uniform top before she gestured for Clay to follow her. Together they made their way down the corridor and Stella stopped at a high-security door, bending down so the scanner pad could take her retina print. Once inside the door shut behind her, and she swiped her ID into the slot to the side of the other thick, glass door which opened in front of her. She moved into the main room and turned, waiting for Clay to enter behind her.
“I fucking hate those things.” Clay mumbled as he stepped through the entrance. “They make me feel like I’m about to plummet through the floor into Thunderbird one.”
Stella chuckled “Its top secret, classified info Clay, you know this.”
She strode over to the key safe positioned on the wall, punched in the code and then selected the relevant key. Clay followed her to the a cabinet at the back which she unlocked and pulled out a Manilla file with the words “MILITARY SECRET- CLASSIFIED” Stamped all over, and the words “Operation Bon Echo” underneath. She handed it to him and then grinned.
“I don’t need to tell you that ya can’t take that outta this room do I?” she teased and Clay shot her a look.
“Stel, I been running Military ops since you were knee high to a grass hopper.” He arched an eyebrow and she laughed.
“Do you want me to stay so we can go through it or…” “No.” he shook his head “I just want to read it now it’s not that fresh in my mind. Helps me analyse it a little better. I’ll call an official Lessons Learned at some point.”
“Ok, well when you’re done make sure you lock up.” She said. “And don’t forget to make sure you swipe your ID again on the way out, or the system will still think you’re here.” “Grasshopper.” Clay looked at her again and she laughed.
“I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t check.” She smiled “I’ll catch you later.”
Clay waved her off and Stella let herself out. Deciding that she could do with a break she wandered out of the Original Headquarters building she was stationed passing the Kryptos sculpture in the little courtyard and made her way down through the landscaped garden area where a few people were milling around, sat at the various benches, taking in the bright early September Sun that had settled over Virginia. She passed the main entrance to the CIA Museum and made her way over to the Starbucks near the New HQ building. More people were sat outside on the benches and she felt herself inwardly groan as she recognised 3 of them. Pooch, Cougar and Jensen. Of course.
“Hey Arty!” Pooch called and she smiled, making her way over “We were just talking about you.”
“Sounds ominous.” She said, her eyes focussed on him to avoid looking at Jensen.
“We ain’t seen you properly in weeks.” Cougar leaned back in his chair, his hat as always perched on his head.
“Well I’ve been busy” she shrugged, “And speaking of which, I gotta get back so...” she gestured to the door of the Starbucks and smiled.
“Movie and pizza on Friday?” Pooch asked “Jolene’s coming here this weekend, sure she’d be pleased to see you.” “Yeah, maybe.” Stella nodded. Pooch flashed her a smile, as did Cougar, before she turned and walked away.
“So now you’re not even speaking? At all?” Pooch looked at Jensen who shrugged, picking at the label on his Starbucks cup. The words “Glasses” had been scribbled on the side by the barista as a means of identifying who the coffee belonged to. They weren’t allowed to ask the Agents’ names so instead they usually provided physical descriptors of something around their appearance when ordering. Cougars usually bore the word “Cowboy” given that he was rarely without his black Stetson and Pooch’s held the words “Eight Ball” on account of him being that closely shorn he was almost bald. Jake had found it amusing at the time when he’d offered that up to the pretty girl behind the counter…
“You’re being a pain in the ass.” Pooch glared at him. “And a buzzkill.”
“How, what…why am I a buzzkill?” Jensen looked at him, frowning.
“Cos she’s not hanging around with us anymore because you’re being a prick.” Cougar shot back, picking up his coffee and taking a sip.
Jensen ignored Cougar, as he placed the cup down on the table, his finger absentmindedly trailing round the rim of the plastic lid. He knew he’d fucked up. He could remember the hurt in Stella’s eyes when she had opened the door in the van to hear him protesting how she wasn’t his girl. He’d been pissed off, and had snapped it out in a moment of frustration and anger but deep down he knew that it wasn’t true. Well, it was true…she wasn’t his girl anymore, because of decision he had made years ago, a decision that he’d come to with the best of intentions but knowing that didn’t make it any easier.
What hurt him more than anything now, however, was the realisation he’d come to that night of the mission as he’d led in the hotel room. He was still dragging her along with every damned decision he made, and the more he thought about it the more he realised that had been the case through the entire time they’d known one another. They started dating when he finally plucked up the courage to ask her out. They quit because he decided it was right. Then the ‘arrangement’ they had was something he came up with, because it suited him and he’d been selfish, well and truly had his cake and eaten it. She played along with his decisions every damned time and that made him feel like shit. Because she was such a strong, vibrant, stubborn person in every other area of her life. She was fierce, took no shit, she was a fucking bad ass…and the only explanation for her allowing him to be the way he was, was that she loved him, like really loved him. And he didn’t deserve her.
He knew what he had to do, he had to end their arrangement although he was pretty sure it was at an end anyway. Maybe his outburst in the van had been a blessing in disguise. But that said, she was still the best friend he’d ever had, the person he cared about most in the world and he didn’t want her to hate him to the extent she didn’t want to speak to him ever again. He might be a dumbass but he wasn’t stupid, and he certainly wasn’t naive enough to think that things could ever go back to how they were before they’d dated, but he had to try and salvage something…even if it was simply so that she could actually bring herself to hold a conversation.
**** Stella was sat on her sofa, munching on a bag of popcorn when there was a knock on her door. Given that no one had buzzed through, that meant it was someone who lived in the block that housed The Losers’ CIA Owned Condos. Pressing pause on her remote, temporarily halting Simba’s pouncing lesson she padded over to the door and checked through the viewer. When she saw who it was she gave a deep breath and debated not answering it, before she gave her head a shake and mentally told herself to grow up.
“Since when have you started knocking on my door?” she asked, opening it “You usually just walk in…”
“Well given how things have been between us I wasn’t sure you’d appreciate me using my key.” He smiled at her. “Can I come in?”
Stella turned around and headed back inside her condo, “You want a beer?”
“No, it’s ok. Thanks. I errr, I wanna talk to you.”
“Sounds serious?” she turned back to look at him as she crossed towards her sofa. She perched where she had been previously sat, tucking her legs up besides her and Jake took a seat a few cushions down, nodding at the TV.
“You must know this off by heart by now.”
“You know full well I do.”
“Yeah, that and every other damned Disney film out there.” he snorted and she grinned, before she took a deep breath.
“I’m pretty certain you didn’t come over to discuss my Disney obsession Jake.”
“Yeah, erm…” Jensen cleared his throat. “I came to apologise. I’ve been an ass, a childish ass, and I’m sorry.”
Stella looked at him, before she took a deep breath, but she didn’t speak so he carried on.
“I want us to be friends again.” He said gently and she studied him for a moment before she sighed and gave him a soft smile, reaching for his hand.
“I’m sorry too Jake.” She said, licking her lips “I haven’t exactly behaved like a grown up either…and I’ve missed you.”
Jensen looked at her, and saw her eyes were shining and he knew she wasn’t getting him. He let out a soft sigh and hung his head and instantly her hand moved from his, reading his body language and signs as she always could.
“Jakey, what’s wrong?” she asked softly and he raised his head to look at her and he shook it gently side to side. God, she was making this so damned hard.
“I think you got me wrong Stel…” his eyes locked onto hers, his voice soft.
“What do you mean?” she frowned “I thought you wanted things to go back to how they were?”
“I do, but…not like that.” He shook his head “This thing between us, this…arrangement…I think its best we stop.”
Stella felt a wave of cold crashing over her and she temporarily froze as she realised that this was it, his final admission that his feelings for here were nothing more than friendly, that she was nothing more than a convenient way for him to simply get his dick wet from time to time. And now she wasn’t even that.
“Stel?” Jake said softly and she blinked a little, pulling herself together. She gave him the best smile she could muster and nodded.
“If that’s what you want.”
“I think it’s for the best” Jake chose his words carefully, because it wasn’t what he wanted, and despite himself, even now, he couldn’t lie to her.
“Ok.” She nodded, giving him another small smile.
“Hey, we had a good run.” He said, attempting to break the tension and she rolled her eyes.
“You’re a jerk.” She shook her head, and he shrugged.
“I know.”
There was a moment’s pause, and for the first time Jensen could remember, it was fucking awkward. And he had to get out of there. “I err, I should…” her gestured over his shoulder towards the door with his thumb and Stella nodded.
“Sure.” She agreed “I got a film to finish so…”
“I’ll leave you to it.” He said, standing. “Buy you a coffee tomorrow?”
“Yeah, sounds good.” Stella smiled.
He nodded to her, his hand falling to her shoulder as he stood up, giving it a squeeze.
Stella just managed to hold her tears back long enough for him to shut the door behind him.
***** Things between the two of them settled down after that, but there was a shift, that didn’t go unnoticed by them or the rest of the team for that matter. The once best friends turned lovers turned best friends with benefits now had to navigate simply being buddies. It was odd for them both but they managed to remain on good terms.  Not great, but good. They could hold a conversation, laugh, joke…the team was happier because of it. But there were no movie nights, no time spent alone. Neither wanted themselves put in that position, this was the new normal for Jake and Stella now, just how it had to be. It hurt them both- after so long, of course it would…but it was better than nothing.
Another month ticked over, and October brought some cooler weather. The leaves on the trees turned to their firey reds, golds and yellows announcing that Fall had arrived, and brought with it Stella’s favourite thing of the season…pumpkin spiced lattes.
“You have an unhealthy addiction to those things…” Pooch grinned as she picked up the coffee from the counter.
“Best thing about Fall.” She shrugged, turning to leave. She instantly collided with a wall of solid muscle and her precious latte went cascading down the front of her uniform and the crisp, white shirt of the unfortunate man she had collided with.
“Shit!” he yelled and Stella’s hand flew to her mouth
“Oh my God, I’m so, so sorry!” she looked at the man, instantly noticing the deep, blue eyes that looked back at her. They were shining with a natural, kind natured glint and she swallowed as the man sighed, and shook his head.
“Don’t worry about it.” He said, his voice deep “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
Stella placed the now half-empty cup down on the side, and took the pile of napkins Pooch handed to her.
“Thanks…” she mumbled, before she offered them to the man.
“What, you’re not gonna wipe it down for me?” he winked and she gave a snort before she chuckled a little, shaking her head.
“I think I’m in enough trouble as it is, don’t you?” she smiled and he gave another chuckle, as he dabbed at his shirt which had now started to go a little see through thanks to it being wet. A not entirely unpleasant turn of events in Stella’s opinion. She scanned him up and down quickly, taking in his sharp navy suit, shiny shoes, black tie before she looked back at his face which sported an immaculately trimmed beard, sharp nose and jawline, brow furrowed in concentration as he focussed on cleaning his shirt up.
“No trouble.” He flashed her a smile that lit up his handsome face, his eyes crinkling slight in the corner and Stella swallowed a little, surprised to find her stomach fluttering ever so slightly with butterflies.
“I err, I should go…” she nodded. “I’m sorry again.”
“Like I said, don’t worry about it.”
She gave him another smile, the heat in her necks and cheeks unbearable, before she picked up what was left of her latte and along with Pooch exited the store.
“Ok, so he just totally watched you leave.” Pooch nudged her and she shook her head.
“Stop!”
“Girl he was eye fucking you!” Pooch snorted “And you were eye fucking him!”
“I was not…” she protested, before he looked at her and she laughed, shaking her head “Ok, maybe I was…a little. Girl can look, right?”
“Hey, no judgement from me!” Pooch smiled “You’re young, free, single…”
“Yeah…” Stella sighed, stealing a look over her shoulder taking in the mystery man from behind “That I am. Thanks for the reminder.”
“You know you could just tell him how you feel.” Pooch gently suggested as they walked towards the entrance of their building.
“What?” Stella looked at him. “How I feel? I just, literally bumped into the guy.”
“I don’t mean him, I mean Jensen.”
“What? Why would you…” Stella looked at Pooch who raised an eyebrow at her. She shook her head “That’s done, it’s over. He ended it, again, and this time it’s a clean break. I’m not raking over old ground, Pooch. Nothing good comes of it.”
Pooch looked at her as he swiped his access card, pulling the door open and allowing Stella to step into the building in front of him. She headed down the corridor, her camouflage clad shoulders slumped a little and Pooch sighed.
“Pair of dumbasses.” He mumbled to himself, as he headed after her towards the office.
***** The good thing about Arty and Jensen being on speaking terms was that their team social events were lighter in atmosphere, and at the end of the week when Clay suggested a few beers they all accepted.
It was the Friday before Halloween, and The Losers were gathered in a bar not far from their Condo building. It was packed full of people, some in fancy dress, some not. The bar itself was decked out in Halloween decorations, Jack-O-Lanterns spaced along the dark wood bar and on the taller tables at the sides of the room. As Roque and Clay came back from the bar with drinks for the team, they handed them out and Clay paused as Jensen had picked up the lantern from their table. He held it next to his face and arranged his features into a grin and Pooch snorted as Jensen placed it back down, picking up his beer.
“I take it from the fact you’re back that your pick up line didn’t work on that nurse.” Pooch looked at Jensen who shrugged.
“What was it this time?” Clay asked “Did you use the ‘did it hurt when you fell from heaven’ line or was it more of a ‘I’m a trained, lethal killing machine, wanna see my weapon’ kinda moment?”
Cougar, Roque and Pooch snorted, whilst Cougar looked at Arty who was studying the label on her beer bottle “Tell me you didn’t fall for anything like that?” he quipped.
“JJ never used a chat-up line on me, Coug.” She shrugged and Jake looked at her.
“I was 11 when we met, Stel.” He arched an eyebrow “11 year olds don’t use chat-up lines.”
“We didn’t start dating until we were 17.” She looked at him, taking a swig from her bottle.
“Exactly, six years later. Didn’t need one.” He winked. She rolled her eyes before she grinned.
“Actually, you kinda used one once…but we’d already been dating for 10 months by that point.”
Jensen frowned “What?”
“Prom night. When you told me the house was empty because you’d told your dad to scram for the evening...”
“Awww, did you pop his cherry, Stel?” Pooch grinned and Stella smiled in response.
“Hey, I popped hers too.” Jake chipped in.
“I feel like I should be congratulating you or something.” Clay said, causing the team to laugh and Stella rolled her eyes.
“It wasn’t some big mission, Clay…” She looked at him and Jensen snorted.
“It felt like it.” He placed his bottle on the table before he smirked “I had to get my dad to make sure the house was empty.”
That entire day was imprinted on his brain, fresh as if it had happened only yesterday…but in that moment he was taken back to the conversation with his dad as he stood in the living room, just before heading out to pick Stella up.
“Hey dad…” Jake looked up as John walked into the room. “Will anyone be home when I get back?”
John Jensen looked at his son, arching an eyebrow “I know your game…” Jake shrugged and grinned. “Just…oh, I dunno, just be careful ok? I’ll take your mom out for a drink but I can’t promise we’ll be out late.”
“That’s ok.” Jake said, “Me and Stel aint planning on staying too long anyway. Just long enough to see who spikes the punch or starts the first fight.”
“As long as it ain’t you.” His dad looked at him and Jake grinned.
“Hey, I’m a lover not a fighter.”
“Yeah, sure you can kill ‘em all with love when you join the army.” John snorted and Jake shrugged.
“Come here, let me sort your tie…” John sighed, stepping forward to straighten the knot. “Fuck, I can’t believe I’m asking you this but…you got any condoms son?”
“A few.” Jake shrugged.
At that John laughed “ A few? I admire your optimism.” He paused and then narrowed his eyes “Did you steal them from my stash?”
“No I bought em, Jesus…” Jake groaned “Like I needed that image.”
“Yeah because the image of my 18 year old son banging his childhood sweetheart is so much better.” John rolled his eyes.
“You and mom are like a hundred or whatever.” Jake looked at him, pulling a disgusted face “It’s gross.”
“Ok.. Now listen to me. If your mother finds out you’re…you know…this conversation, never happened.” John stepped back “You hear me?”
“Loud and clear pops.” Jake nodded “You know though, Stel’s stayed here before. Mom didn’t seem to mind.” “That’s because your mother never heard you hitting each base like I did. She thinks Stella stays in the spare room, whereas I know full well she stays with you and then sneaks back in there before everyone gets up…”
His dad had come through for him. He house was empty when they got back. His mom had actually been cool about it all as well to be fair, she loved Stella, still did as a matter of fact. As the memory of the morning after their first time came back to him, he grinned and looked at Arty.
“Remember mom knocking on my door in the morning, asking if she was bringing 2 cups of coffee in or 1?”
“Fuck, yes.” Stella snored “I nearly died of embarrassment.”
“But she never bothered putting you in the spare room again.” He winked as the group laughed. “Good times.”
“Yeah, yeah they were.” Stella sighed, before her eyes fell back to her bottle of beer, biting back the snipe she had brewing in her mind.
Before you fucked it all up…
“Hey…” Pooch nudged her and she looked at him, noticing he was watching something at the bar “Aint that flash coffee dude?”
“What?” Stella asked, her eyes snapping to where Pooch was looking “Oh yeah.”
“Who’s flash coffee dude?” Clay asked.
“Guy at the bar in the grey sweater.” Pooch said, grinning “Arty spilt a pumpkin spiced latte all down his shirt. He didn’t seem to mind though, was too busy undressing her with his eyes.”
At that Jake’s head snapped up and he looked over at the man who was stood with another guy a little shorter than him, chatting as he perched effortlessly on one of the high stools, his long jean clad legs stretching out in front of him, right foot resting on the rail at the bottom.
“That’s Evan Christianson.” Roque said “He works in Intel.”
“What kind of a dick name is that?” Jensen snorted
“Who cares?” Stella said, her eyes still on the man “With a body and face like that he can be called what the fuck he wants. Look at his poise…”
“You know…” Cougar took a pull of his beer “I’m not gay but I’m considering giving it a go.”
They all laughed bar Jensen who was studying the man Stella seemed to have the hots for. He wasn’t surprised at all to feel that green eyed monster stirring in his belly, but what could he do? They were free agents, it wasn’t like he expected her to stay single forever. He stole a look at Stella who was smirking a little at something Cougar had just said, shaking her head.
“Absolutely not, I’ll make a tit of myself.” She protested.
“You already did that when you spilt coffee all down him.” Pooch smirked “Don’t be a pussy.”
Stella bit her lip, weighing up her options. Should she? Could she? In the corner of her eye she saw Jake turn away, and momentarily felt a flash of guilt before she shook herself out of it.
He doesn’t want you anymore…
“Oh fuck it…” She shrugged, and grabbing her beer she headed off in the direction of the bar.
“Where is she going?” Jake asked.
“Don’t be a dumbass Jensen.” Roque smirked “It’s obvious.”
The men watched as Stella reached Evan and gently tapped his shoulder. He spun round and flashed her a huge grin, showing immaculate white teeth as he said something to her.
“Why is he smiling at her like that?” Jensen demanded and Clay looked at Pooch.
Cougar snorted “He likes her.”
“No shit Cougs…” Roque looked at him.
“Oh, he’s buying her a drink…” Pooch said, as Evan nodded towards Stella’s beer and then turned towards the bar tender.
“We have lift off boys!” Clay grinned, and the group smirked at one another, before they turned away, not wanting to watch or intrude. Jensen’s eyes, however, remained where they were until Clay slapped him on the shoulder.
“Cheer up Jensen.” He said gently
“I’m not…I don’t need to cheer up.” Jake shrugged, turning back to his beer. His eyes flickered around the bar then, deliberately avoiding the two of them stood at the bar before he focussed in on the Nurse he’d been talking to before he rolled his shoulders back and stated “Innabit losers, I got stuff to do.”
He headed across the bar towards the blonde and the remaining 4 men all looked at one another before shrugging, and continuing with their conversation. But Clay, always the leader, made sure to keep one eye on them both.
****
“It should be me buying you a drink.” Stella smiled and Evan laughed.
“Well what kind of gentleman would that make me?”
“The kind who had a hot cup of coffee spilt on him by a clumsy ass Captain who wasn’t watching where she was going.”
“Well, if I was the type of guy to use a pick up line, I’d tell you I was impressed that the clumsy, but might fine ass, belongs to a Captain.” He smiled and Stella grinned, her ego stoked a little at the veiled compliment to both her appearance and rank.
“Flattery will get you everywhere.” She flirted back, thanking him as the bar tender slid their drinks over to them.
“I hope so.” He winked, taking a pull from his bottle. “I’m Evan by the way.”
“Evan Christianson, yeah I know.” She smiled, taking a drink herself and he looked at her, his eyebrow raised “Roque told me.”
“Oh you know Roque?”
“Yeah. We worked together under Clay.” She nodded to her team where they were all stood round their table, noticing that Jensen wasn’t with them. But before she could think anymore of it Evan spoke again, as he raised his beer to Roque who did the same in acknowledgement.
“Small world.” He smiled at Arty. “So, do I get to know your name or…”
“It’s Stella.” She smiled, “Stella Stevenson, or as that lot call me Arty…”
“Let me guess, short for Artois, like the drink.” He smiled and she laughed, nodding. “Well, Stella or Arty, pleased to meet you. Again.”
“I promise to try not to spill a drink on you this time.” She smiled and Evan gave a little chuckle.
“Well I am partial to a pumpkin spiced latte, prefer to drink them though not wear them if I can help it.”
“I thought you wore it pretty well to be fair.” Stella smiled and he raised an eyebrow, a cheeky glint flashed in his eyes.
“That so?”
She bit her lip and turned back to her drink, picking it up and taking a big sip, smiling to herself as she felt Evan’s eyes studying her face.
From there the conversation began to flow. Evan told her a bit about him, his role in the Intel branch, how he’d himself been in the Navy having worked his way up to Commander by the time he was 30 before leaving a few years back to join the CIA. He was a few years older than her at thirty-five, and hailed from Boston, although Arty had sussed that anyway through his accent. She in turn told him about her life, her career and a little about her family. He seemed interested, genuinely. Asked her questions, answered hers as he bought another couple of drinks, each time declining Stella’s offer to pay.
It was a surprise to her just how easy the conversation and gentle flirting came to her. Whilst her and Jensen hadn’t been together or badged as exclusive, she hadn’t had any kind of relationship since he’d ended things with her 5 years or so ago. She hadn’t been interested, but here…well, she was finding that interest piqued.
A few hours later she left the bar with a smile on her face…and Evan Christianson’s number safely stored in her phone.
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IF YOU LOVE SOMEONE, LET THEM GO: PART 9
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Summary: Since starting with SVU, Sonny hadn’t kept much terribly close to the chest. The squad knew about his family, growing up on Staten Island, the classes at Fordham. What was hidden was why he didn’t date. Sonny Carisi was also separated from his childhood sweetheart, a separation neither ever took to divorce. They had the same haunts. They’d grown up neighbors. Their paths crossed every few months, and divorce talks would turn into reminiscing would turn into a night spent together, sometimes sex sometimes just talking until the early morning. It always ended with one of them waking up alone however. How will that change when the squad finds out?
Pairings: Sonny Carisi x Original Character
1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8
A/N: Ayyy, they’re in New Orleans, a place I know well enough to write about.
November 2015
“Tor, where are you draggin’ me?” Sonny laughed, hand in Victoria’s as they made their way through Jackson Square. It was almost eerie past midnight.
“You said you were hungry! We’re a block away from something I think you’ll like.”
“Doll, we’re in New Orleans. We’re always a block from something I’ll like.” What he liked was seeing her so in her element. The city had a soul more like hers, and seeing her pull him through the streets made him feel like he was a teenager with a crush again instead of a man celebrating his thirtieth birthday with his wife. They’d just dropped their bags in the hotel after their flight. She’d found them a place steps from Jackson Square and St. Louis Cathedral, and in the night, her cheeks were flushed pink from the wind coming off of the Mississippi River and excitement. 
“There’s no line at Cafe du Monde at one in the morning,” she grinned, giving an exaggerated flourish. “Louisiana zeppoli sound good? Beignets.”
“You get me.” They sat at the little metal table, and he looked out at the empty square. When they’d come so long ago, her mother had gotten a friend to lend her their apartment, and the pair had taken the trolley to the zoo or aquarium or museum during the day. This trip, he was excited to go to bars and hear live music and have cocktails. Come back to a hotel where they could order room service. He was determined to make another trip to the zoo as well. The pictures from before showed two lanky teenagers pretending they didn’t like each other. Now they’d been together a decade plus.
“You got a little messy,” she grinned, Sonny having exhaled at the wrong time. Powdered sugar was everywhere, but the broad smile as he ate was perfect. Victoria took a picture of Sonny with his crinkled eyes and dimpled grin, covered in powdered sugar with a beignet in front of him. He polished it off, paying before he leaned to kiss her as she laughed. He tasted like airport coffee, pastry, and sugar as he pulled her close on the street outside.
“You know, it’s officially the second now. You’re thirty!”
“I guess I am,” he chuckled, kissing her again.
“Happy birthday, cher. I guess you oughta get me back to the hotel so we can celebrate…” His goofy grin turned wicked as he pulled her down St. Ann’s Street to the hotel, scooping her up bridal style when they got to their hallway. Victoria squealed, slipping the key from her bag to unlock the door for him and he kicked it closed behind them. He woke with her wrapped around him and sun from the courtyard filtering in. Thirty was going to be much better, he could already tell. When she woke, she felt his fingers tracing her spine, and she curled closer into him. 
“Mornin’ handsome.” She always developed an accent when she was around southerners. Her mom had given her a little twang, but the Louisiana accent was thick now, and he loved it. 
“Mornin’ doll. You sleep okay?”
“You tired me out.” He was rewarded with a crooked grin, and Sonny kissed her softly and pulled her close again. “Happy birthday. What do you want to do today?”
“Order breakfast in? Maybe go to the zoo?”
“You want to go to the zoo?”
“Yeah. It was what we did last time when I realized I had a crush on you. Could be good before we go to dinner and that burlesque show.”
“It’s going to be perfect,” she grinned. “Anything you wanna do. All day.”
“Anything?” The impish smile was back, and they didn’t have breakfast for another couple of hours. Watching Sonny as they made their way to the zoo, she grinned, arms wrapping around his waist. 
“You’re cute.”
“Am I?” 
“Yeah. I like how excited you get about things.”
“Is that why you call me a puppy so often?”
“A little,” she chuckled, buying their tickets and leading him in. 
“Better than a lanky noodle,” he grinned, arms around her waist as they watched the flamingos near the entrance. Whenever they planned to take this vacation, he hadn’t really anticipated how nice it would be to have a whole swath of the country between him and all the dark things he dealt with at work. In the city, he would pass places that brought a case to mind easily, even if he wasn’t really thinking about it. They’d walk by a bar and some part of his brain noted that was where the vic in the case last year was assaulted. In New Orleans, he knew there was still crime. He could even guess dangerous spots. But, he didn’t have names and faces and stories. Instead, he had the old independent bookstore with no air conditioning he’d followed Victoria through, the humidity and heat making him sweat straight through his t-shirt. Here, there was the little area he’d sat and stared as Victoria watched the orangutans with a broad grin. They’d definitely be stopping there. And he was excited for the Louisiana Swamp portion. Those were the two he had the strongest memory of. As if she knew, Victoria took his hand, tugging him towards the fountain and to the roman candy wagon just before the path to the monkeys.
“I almost forgot about this,” he chuckled, fishing a dollar from his pocket. “We goin’ chocolate and vanilla?”
“Duh.” She took the long sticks of what was basically taffy wrapped in wax paper gladly. It was as stretchy and messy as he remembered, and they walked happily, pinching off pieces and passing it back and forth. Between the orangutans and gorillas was the same wooden seating area, and they sat. 
“Y’know, I think this is where I realized I was in love with you,” he said, leaning back against the tree trunk that grew in the middle. “You were watching the baby orangutan. Got so excited when they told you his name and stuff. And then you were telling everybody that came after the zookeeper left everything like you were the new tour guide. I remember looking at ya in the sun in that flowery spaghetti strap dress and all your hair up and this big smile and knowing it was gonna be you.”
“Really?” she asked, head tilted as he nodded. Now she was in one of his pullovers tucked into jeans, bundled up from the breeze. It was twelve years later, and she was just as perfect in the sun. She leaned to kiss him sweetly, staying close. “Wanna know something?”
“What?”
“I realized I loved you in the swamp part. You were so excited, and I remember already realizing I liked you. Then there’s that statue of the swamp monster? The rugaru when you turn the corner? We were there and a kid ran the corner ahead of his mom and got scared. He started crying and got embarrassed and you just sat down and told him the rugaru scared you too and hung out the minute for his mom to catch up. Knew it then I wanted you forever.”
“We’re real disgusting, aren’t we?”
“Just a little,” she smiled, kissing him again. It was nice to sit in the sun beside him, taking turns pointing out when there was activity in each enclosure. Sonny still smiled just like he did when they were teenagers, but he was more relaxed now that she had him this far from the city. His shoulders carried less tension and his smile always reached his eyes. They’d be taking a yearly vacation from here on out. They needed the time away from the city.
“If your mom had raised you here, our lives would be so different,” he mused as they leaned against the railing in the swamp portion. They took turns looking into the green of the swamp water to point out alligators floating along. 
“I’d be a swamp witch.” Her voice was serious enough Sonny couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped him. 
“And I’d probably have ended up a priest.”
“Good and evil. Are we an unholy union then?”
“Nah. Told ya before, doll. Preordained by the big guy. Might not have found you when I was five. But you’d have ended up stuck with me any way.”
“It means the world to me how strongly you believe that. I ever told you? Even when we were separated, I knew we wouldn’t get divorced, but I’d get scared we couldn’t fix it.”
“Me too. But we’re here. I get to start my thirties with ya. And we’ll have babies and grandbabies and great grandbabies.”
“We will. And short term? We’ll have a lot more trips. Get more breaks.”
“I’d like that a lot. It’s nice being way out here. Wanna do it more.”
They made their way to the hotel in time to shower before dinner and to make it to the bar putting on the burlesque show in time for drinks. Early on, Victoria had figured out Sonny was a sucker for old school burlesque. She’d done a boudoir shoot for him done up with all the vintage trimmings, and one night, she’d convinced him to attend a burlesque show at home, one with a live band. That, he’d liked. There was a bar on Canal Street, Burgundy, that had a local burlesque troupe perform on the weekends. The place was sultry when they walked in, all deep velvets and a glittering chandelier. She’d kissed his cheek, going to powder her nose before she ordered. They’d dressed up, and Sonny leaned against the counter waiting to order. 
“This seat taken?” asked a petite brunette, and he didn’t think anything of it.
“Nah. I’m going to a table.”
“You’re not from around here, are ya?”
“Visiting from New York,” he shrugged, still watching the bartender. 
“And here I was hoping you’d be a local. It’s a shame I’ll only see you tonight.”
“Yeah. It’s the only night they got the show. Came for my birthday.”
“Well, happy birthday.” The bartender stopped, and he ordered two drinks, the champagne one with rose water he knew Victoria would like and whatever the specialty was with whiskey for himself. 
“That for me?” she asked, and the way she tilted her head told him he was an idiot. He suddenly took in the way she was leaning towards him, eyes going wide. Luckily, he could see Victoria in the background, and she chuckled as he caught her eye. One thing he was grateful for was the fact she knew he could be dumb. He looked at women, sure. Victoria looked at men sometimes. That didn’t matter because they had no interest in doing anything with anybody else. He didn’t, however, tend to realize the eyes a woman was giving him. 
“It’s for me,” Victoria smiled, wrapping an arm around Sonny’s waist easily and resting the hand with her wedding ring on his chest.
“Sorry. I didn’t realize…” Victoria just gave her a smile and a nod, taking her drink gratefully and following Sonny to their table. His cheeks were pink and Victoria couldn’t help but laugh as she slid beside him on the booth side of the table facing the stage. 
“Tor, I had no clue,” he said like she was terribly upset. She cared just enough to wrap the territorial arm around him, but not enough to scold him. Hell, it was endearing. “I wouldn’t ever wanna flirt with anybody but you so sometimes I miss it.”
“Dom, I’m not mad. You’re hot as hell, and it’s really sweet how clueless you are. Not your fault other women notice the hot part.”
“Shuddup,” he muttered, ears turning red now. “You don’t notice when guys flirt with you either.”
“I do too!”
“Nah. The guy at the zoo? The one that was friendly until I showed up? Doll, he had been checkin’ you out.”
“What? No. He just wanted to know where the food was.”
“Oh? That’s why he was standing outside the ordering window when he asked you that?”
“Shit.” Sonny laughed, slipping an arm around her. 
“It’s okay. I kind of like showing up like ‘Yeah, she’s hot. And she’s my wife.’” 
“I like doing the same to you.”
“Love you, Tor.”
“And I love you, Dom. Happy birthday.”
Tags: @cycat4077​ @fear-less-write-more​
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arsonist-chicken · 3 years
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Lockdown Tag game; I got tagged by @we-are-not-amoosed thank you! I keep forgetting you know I exist, also I hope you had fun being drunk at midnight on a Tuesday hjhjhj.
First of all, a big FUCK YOU to tumblr, because I was at the LAST QUESTION and opened ONE NEW TAB to look up the word windmill, and when I went back to tumblr, my post was GONE, so here we go again. If an answer seems short of half-answered, it’s because I didn’t feel like typing everything again.
Are you staying home from work or school?
HA. Yes. Love that for me. Not at all. My university opened for 1 1/2 weeks in March 2020, then for another 4 weeks in November, and it has been closed ever since. I’m in my dormitory in the town I study in, not home home at my parents’ place though, because that would Not end well. The internet connection sucks though, that’s really annoying with distance learning. When I go into The City for A Thing, I usually cycle past my department and it makes we Yearn to go back in there, which is a thing I didn’t think would ever happen, but one pandemic later and suddenly everyone would kill for the change to go back to work/school in person, wouldn’t we?
If you’re staying home who is there with you?
I live in a dormitory, so technically, there’s a lot of other people there, but I don’t really talk to any of them except for when we meet in the hallways or the kitchen or wherever, so really it’s just me, the stuffed animal my friend got me last year because I kept whining that I didn’t have a cat like her at her boyfriend’s place where she basically lives now, and the birds who come to eat from the bird house I put on my balcony.
If it makes you feel any better @we-are-not-amoosed, not that I think it will but hey, who knows, my twin sister is moving out in December, so I will be the only child at home with my parents during summer/Christmas/Easter break, which will be Not Fun. I’ll take another 1 ½ years for my degree, and another 2 if I do a master’s, so that’s about... 1-3/4 years I’ll be alone with my parents while my perfect sister gets to move out and move on and live Adult Life fully respected as an Adult working with renewable energy, as opposed to the Disappointment who takes 5 years for a 3 year degree in a field that’s hard to find employment in and never Does Stuff like my mother wants me to Do Stuff.
Are you a homebody?
I’m with @we-are-not-amoosed there, I didn’t know what that meant, but Pons says “Stubenhocker”. A bit I guess? I’m definitely fine being home by myself if I’m unbothered there (read: not at my parents’ when they are home) and I do need time by myself to recharge. But probably like everyone else, I crave and enjoy social contact a ton more than Before. I meet a friend fairly often (aka the only friend still here instead of home for distance learning), and today we worked together (handing out flyers which idk why the company pays us to hand them out, like 95% of them get thrown away immediately, but hey, we’re getting paid 🤷) and then went to sit by the river, and there were SO MANY people there, it was not *entirely* corona-compliant (but outside with town-typical wind, so it’s fine I think, with my non-existent knowledge about spreading of viruses and such), but honestly? I just couldn’t be bothered to care in that moment: it was warm and sunny, I was there with a very close friend, people were laughing and dancing to good music, it was just so GOOD to be there, almost as if Corona didn’t exist. The police even drove by like they always do to check for people smoking weed and didn’t say anything like usual, so hey. It was just so good, okay? So, homebody? Within reason, I guess, but less than Before, probably.
An event you were looking forward to that eventually got cancelled?
Oh boy, SO MANY. The one I’m most bitter about was a very prestigious international interpreting event, that would have involved me interpreting in the actual European Parliament building in Strasbourg. But there was also a festival week with my best friend I was looking forward to, maybe even a second festival with another friend, my company’s ten year anniversary party, etc. And Prides! I came out to my family in 2019, and was like “Yay, I can finally go to Prides now!” but well 🤷
DUDE SO MANY ARE YOU KIDDING ME
CONCERTS: 5SOS (I SHOULD HAVE heard “Old Me” in a crowd full of other people getting nostalgic for their past selves, but NO), Louis Tomlinson, Harry Styles, Rock im Park aka GREEN DAY AND RISE AGAINST (I have been trying to see Rise Against for YEARS and ALWAYS something gets in the way!), one or two small local artists.
ERASMUS: I should have gone to Russia for a semester to improve my not-too-great speaking skills but Corona said FUCK YOU you will study ALONE and LONELY in your ROOM like a child on TIMEOUT
PRIDE: none in particular, just generally it would have been nice to go, maybe even with a friend to the one in Vienna
Also just general stuff like birthdays and get-togethers with friends, and my club’s annual get-together was cancelled too, and it would have been my friend, sister and my’s 10-year-anniversary, so that sucked to get cancelled.
What movies have you watched recently?
Movies? Pfuh, I don’t know, I’m not really into movies anymore, tbh. TV-series and games are more my jam.
Descendants 1 +2, I finally watched those after I read so much fanfiction that I knew the plot without having watched a single scene that isn’t a music video that youtube kept showing me. They’re nice enough, if you overlook the fact that they make a 16-year-old king while there’s still perfectly capable adults but whatever, there’s a lot of cute moments (Carlos and Jane omg) and a lot of funny ones (UMA. Is HILARIOUS), the music kind of slaps ngl, and arguably Mal + Evie are queer and in love. I still want to watch the third soon, and rewatch The Hunger Games since it showed up on my dash recently.
What shows are you watching?
Rewatching Julie and the Phantoms forever until the end of time (or until season 2 comes out @netflix, and I started Brooklyn 99 again for background noise/low-energy background watching. A friend recommended Ginny & Georgia and it’s okay enough, but it’s written in a way that makes you want to keep watching because there’s just such whack stuff happening that you want it explained; it’s 1h episodes though, that’s a bit hard on my attention span. I want to rewatch FMA:B some time, too.
What are you reading?
@we-are-not-amoosed said “tumblr posts and the texts I translate at work” and if that isn’t a Mood. I’d love to read more, but my attention span is shit and my reading comprehension even worse. I *am* reading “Explain to me like I’m 5” atm which explains stuff easily, like, well, you’re 5 years old, so you’d think a 23-year-old could understand, no? No. I read it, I vaguely understand some stuff, I close the book, and it’s G-O-N-E, not a single thing left. Literally the only thing I remember – and this is why I had to re-write ^^^all that because I needed to look up the English word for Windräder, if that’s even what they’re called in German but whatever I’m tired – is that insects and birds die a LOT in windmills when they get too close and get sucked in and can’t escape anymore, which is one of the reasons windmills aren’t as environmentally friendly as we thought when we built them. Anyhow, I’d love to read more, but idk, there are a lot of posts on here, some I’ve reblogged, that are like.. something something reading fanfiction is easier because you already know the characters and universe something something less mental energy something something idk. Yeah I mostly read fanfiction these days. I hope I’ll get back to reading books sometime soon-ish, I have a long list.
What are you doing for self-care?
Hm. I meet my friend I mentioned above pretty regularly, and I have a notebook that I write stuff in that was nice or made me happy when that happened (like today: working with my friend and then sitting among people by the river in the sun with said friend). I’m getting a tattoo next week (3 cat paws + 1 dog paw = technically my two cats and my late cat and dog, but well, two of them are dead, so I asked two friends for a paw print of their cat and dog, so I’ll always have those two with me, too). I try to make a to-do-list each day, but I rarely stick to it. I apply eyeshadow and body glitter if I want to, I dye my hair bright colors (think pink, purple, blue, red, maybe orange next). I always have chocolate in my room meaning I stopped depriving myself of food I like/food in general because it’s “healthier”/”I need to lose weight” etc. all that you know all those great reasons. I went to a doctor about my knee and it ended up being useless but I went, so.
I also went to see a therapist but she is very useless, like “ended our first session telling me well she doesn’t know how to help me/if she can help me at all/if therapy would even help me” kind of useless; I’ll go again next week and see if that changes or if next week will be the last week and I’ll go back to Dealing Like Before, which is not great but whatever. I’ve lived until 23 without therapy, surely I can keep doing it. Therapy’s expensive if it’s not covered (which this doctor IS which is why I went to her but it’s still a waste of time) and if it’s not gonna work/not gonna help me apparently or if there’s nothing actually wrong OR that therapist is just like, bad at her job, what’s the point of going yk?
Uggggh, I hope the swimming pools and Zumba class will be open again soon, Zumba (also with said friend) is AMAZING, easy fun exercise you don’t need any knowledge or skill for and you can hang out with your friend by the street after for an hour and say goodbye five times and then remember one more thing you wanted to actually still mention and stand there for another 20 minutes hjhjhj. Best times, truly.
Idk this is probably not self-care but I got a small job working with Austrian German and it gnetflix the chance to save up a bit and add it to my resume and also hopefully get my mother to shut up about my non-existent job prospects for a bit, so that’s kind of helping in making me feel a bit more like I’m Being An Adult (also because it means I have to learn how to change my insurance and finance department stuff now, yey).
Tagging: @languages-and-else @psychicbouquetblaze-stuff @the-real-daddy-van-der-bellen @sunsetcurveofficial if you feel like doing it, also sorry @we-are-not-amoosed it became such a rambled long answe on almost everything hjhjhj
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ayellowcurtain · 3 years
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hiiii!!! how you've been doing?!? soooo today is Federico Cesari's birthday... any martino's ideas? hehe I feel like I take advantage of your writing, sorry
Hello, hello!!
I’ve been struggling a little bit mentally but getting better at not caring about numbers, so slowly getting back to my normal headspace, thank you for asking ❤️❤️
Happy birthday to that amazing, good looking guy that is Fede!! Only problem is that he’s a Pisces. Of all the possible ones, he had to be a pisces. At least we now know he’s not perfect hahaha
Since today it's his birthday, I couldn’t wait to do this some other time so let’s throw some ideas in the air like it was Marti’s (even though I have to be clear that Marti is an actual Taurus according to Netflix so he’s the best with the best sign.
1 - Marti woke up a little too early for his liking - it’s his birthday and a Saturday - but he came home last night just to spend at least a little bit of his day with his mom. And of course she would be the one to get inside his bedroom a little too soon, surprising him with a mini cake she just baked for him with some tiny candles on top of it, singing happy birthday. Marti looks grumpy but he can’t be that annoying so he sits up, blows the candles and eats half of the mini cake and his mom eats the other half. It’s probably the best cake she’s ever baked. Nico already sent him a bunch of messages after midnight - he has to be the first to wish his boyfriend a happy birthday every time - and so Marti takes a picture of his half of the cake, saying he’ll be home for lunch but for Nico to not make anything fo them! Once Marti is there they’ll decide what to eat.
2 - Before he’s leaving the house with some new clothes to take to Nico’s grandma’s place and the clothes he took there to wash overnight, he runs into Gio at the door. So they go back inside for a little more so Gio can see his mom and tell her how college is going, how he’s still happily with Eva, looking at some apartments to move in. He teases Marti, saying they’re looking for a place with two bedrooms for the nights when Marti fights with Nico and decides to sleep somewhere else. It doesn’t happen as often as he makes it seem but it’s funny to see Martino so bothered by it.
3 - They walk to Nico’s place so they can still spend some time together on Marti’s bday. Gio buys him some ice cream and they catch up lke they are not constantly talking, texting, video calling each other. Gio asks how Nico is and how are things between them, and before he leaves Marti at Nico’s door, he says they’ll meet a little bit later. Everyone will probably come to eat some pizza later and celebrate Marti.
4 - When he finally gets home it’s almost 2 p.m and Martino is a little tired, feels like this day is lasting a whole year. He unlocks the door with his keys and finds Nico almost instantly, running to meet Martino at the door, holding a bouquet of flower because he’s that cheesy. He gives it to Marti and kisses him, saying he’ll take care of the plants so they can have them for a few weeks. With Martino’s care they wouldn’t last the weekend. They only spent a few hours apart but it feels like months. When Marti left to go to his mom’s place it was past midnight. He holds his flowers and puts them aside and keeps kissing Nico for a little longer, saying it’s his birthday and he’ll say when they’re done kissing. Nico laughs and smiles against his lips, running his hand up and down Martino’s side, always so warm.
5 - They spend the afternoon in bed, tangled together, a little too hot but the fan Nico’s grandma left doesn’t work that well anymore so they’ll just have to ignore the heat from a house with not much circulation of air, no matter if the windows are open and the fan is on. When Marti starts to get really annoyed about it again, complaining, Nico kisses his to take his mind off of it, pushing the sheets aside so he can lie on top of Marti and they can start all over again. Marti’s mood changes instantly, smiling, always excited for Nico’s sexy ideas.
6 - Gio and Eva are the first ones to arrive at night. Nothing is really planned but it’s always like these during birthdays or special occasions: they just show up wherever they need to be and plan the night as it goes. Elia and Filo get there five minutes later and the same happens when Luca, Silvia, Sana, Malik and Fede. The rest of the boys get there a little later with a bunch of balloon with Marti’s name written on it and the balloons are all red - Nico’s request even though the boy don’t really get it, Marti does and it’s what matters. He laughs and thanks the boys and goes back to his boyfriend to give him a kiss away from everyone and thank him for everything.
Hope this is good? I wrote it a little too fast and without checking for any mistakes <3 You don’t take advantage of anything! I love writing and I love your ideas!!!
Happy birthday Fedeee!!! 🥳
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