#not as bad as me being gone for two years | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

andysorbit · 3 days

Text

Fair and Square (M)

Idol!Mark x fem!reader

genre: smut, light fluff, blink-and-you'll- miss-it angst

warnings: overstimulation, dacryphylia, oral sex (fem receiving), unprotected sex (I'm not telling yall shit about protection. I ain't ya mama.), breeding kink, reader has a bellybutton piercing, slight degradation, mentions of cock warming

word count: 1.3k (I'm lying dude I do not have even a scrap of a clue)

hi @calibabii21... I apologize for the late birthday gift but... I intended to do damage with this one hehe. I hope I was successful 🙂‍↕️

graphics by @cafekitsune! thank you for what you do!!!

please reblog and leave feedback!

"Two months isn't even that long, Mark," You say into his fluff of hair. The unwatched movie plays as you hold him close and he nestles his head against your chest; his breath fans against your skin and all would be right with the world if he wasn't leaving for a South American tour in the morning.

"Don't gaslight me," Mark groans, "And you're still gonna wait til after I get back to get that bellybutton piercing, right?"

You fall quiet and look at the new movie that's loading on the television. Mark shifts to look at you, "Y/n, you gotta let that thought marinate... Like, babe... Two months is plenty of time to really make sure this is what you wanna do."

"Mark..." You say sitting up. "Jesus of Nazareth, I don't wanna debate this," he chuckles. You watch his gaze drop down as his cheeks burn red. After all this time, he still can't look at you for too long without getting flustered. "Bruh, I literally just sat up," You tease him.

"With the quickness," he shoots back, "At least wait for me to come back so I can hold your hand or something..." You shrug and lean forward to kiss him, eyes fluttering shut as you let him lead. "How could you leave me for two months? That's jerk behavior," You mumble against his lips.

"I thought two months wasn't even that long? See how you like lyin' to me?" he sighs; hands grabbing at your hips to pull you into his lap.

"Dude, what are you up to?" Mark asks you suspiciously. His eyebrows quirk up and he eyes you, "You have that face. Spit it out, Y/n, c'mon."

You shrug, the bellybutton ring is his surprise for later and as much as you would love to show it to him now, you know it'll be worth it to wait. His absence over the past two and a half months has been torture but it's all led up to a moment you know he'll love. Or at least you hope he will.

You turn to him and slip your arm over his torso, "I'm happy to see you. Stop being a jerk," You chuckle softly and with that, he's kissing you like it's the first time he's breathed since the last time he saw you, "You look prettier... That's kinda crazy actually because..."

Mark's random yap spirals is one of the reasons you couldn't leave this man even if you wanted to. It's a wholesome thing he just can't help but fall into when he's with you. You throw your leg over his and his gentle tangent fizzles out, "I'm not gonna be upset if you're trying to get me to nail you to the bed- I mean... I was only gone for eighty-three years... Actually... Come here."

Mark rolls onto back, t-shirt riding up to show the waistband of his CK briefs, "Come have a seat."

You straddle him, "Lazy boy," You chuckle and your hands press down on the firmness of his chest to steady yourself. "Like the sofa," he counters as he guides your hips to drag you back and forth over the swelling bulge in his pants.

"Mark... please," You beg, "Please... Want you so bad." Mark grips your thighs firmly; stopping the rocking motion for a moment, "Is there something you wanna tell me before I take your clothes off?" he asks you. Pausing for a moment you eye him; your mouth opens then closes.

"Is there, Y/n?"

You shrug, "I missed you?" You ask sheepishly. "You did it, didn't you? Of course you did cuz you're fuckin' hard-headed," he sighs and he lifts your t-shirt, "Oh... fuck."

Mark's expression softnes but his dick doesn't and he softly touches the piercing. It's his turn to buffer. Opening his mouth, he takes in a shaky breath before releasing slowly and you smile, "Markie Mark... Say something?" You pipe up.

Fingers still softly toying with the piercing, Mark looks up at you, "It's all healed up?" he asks. You nod.

"What the fuck did you do- get it the same day I left? Y/n, c'mon, baby, really?" he asks incredulously. He's visibly pissed but equally as turned on and you notice it but you pretend not to.

You frown, feeling guilty at the traces of disappointment laced in his tone. "No... I made the appointment the next day and they had a last minute cancelation so they told me to come," You explain. "Oh, okay cool so the very next day," Mark says sarcastically, "That's just great." "Are you mad at me?" You ask him softly. Mark shakes his head, "No way. I just... Like you always keep me in a good place mentally and sometimes I just wanna be your voice of reason and you say I'm your emotional bra so I just wanted to be there for you... Y'know... for support... because that's what bras do..."

You lean forward and kiss him softly, "You're right and I'm sorry," You whisper, "M'sorry... I just... I wanted to surprise you but also I got bored and... I know what you said and you were right but I... I thought maybe you didn't want me to get it done." Mark kisses you back, "Not you demoting me to shitty boyfriend. It's your body and I love you with or without the piercing. I like whatever you like... I'm a simp!"

Mark flips you both over and you softly thud against the mattress, "What's wrong with that?" You laugh. "Nothin'... Not a damn thing... Now... Miss Bellybutton Piercing... I can't let this slide so what do you think I should do?" he's still playful but his eyes are longing and he touches the cool metal of the piercing again. "I thought you said it was okay?" You say with mock disappointment, "I still have to pay for my sins?"

Mark nods, "Nothing is free." You bite your bottom lip and hold his gaze, "Is the price hefty?" You ask him quietly. He nods again and dips down to kiss you, "Oh, honey," he hums; scattering kisses across your face, "Oh, baby... sweetie... cupcake... cutie pie... babygirl..." he presses his tongue to the pulse at the base of your throat and drags it up your chin before pressing a hot kiss to your lips, "You have no idea."

You try to hold onto him but he moves down your body and leaves a trail of kisses as he goes. He stops at your bellybutton and licks the piercing and you skin shivers. The room heats up as Mark drags your panties down, "Make sure you keep score of how many times I make you cum," he bends your legs at the knees and parts them, "That's how many times I want you to tell me you're sorry, okay?"

You nod, "Okay... I'll try," You whisper as you squeeze your eyes shut. Mark nestles himself betwen your legs, "Look at me." You open your eyes and look down at him. Holding your gaze, he takes your hands and brings them to the top of his head, "No trying... Just do it. That shouldn't be too hard since you're so good at staying busy when I'm not around," he says and with that, he's devouring you.

His tongue strokes against your clit fervently and you whine, "Daddy, please!" The sensation is almost too much already. Mark hums, "Now it's 'daddy please', before it was 'yeah fuck that guy'... The nerve," he chides; playfulness lifting his tone a bit as he presses hot, open-mouthed kisses to your pussy.

"Daddy..." You whimper. Your thighs begin to shake and you wriggle your hips, "Gonna cum, daddy... love your tongue, daddy. Fuckin' love it." Mark flicks his tongue over your clit then sucks the pulsing bundle of nerves into his mouth. You reach down to grab Mark's hair and pull his head closer to you; hips bucking wildly and eyes squeezed shut. Your skin burns hot as you chase your orgasm and you cry out when the release washes over your body. Colors swirl behind your eyes and the bubble of pleasure that you were just floating in bursts.

Mark isn't even stopping to give you a moment to recover.

"M- Mark... fuck... Please, daddy... Please, baby..." You plead as you try to push his head away. Mark chuckles against your pulsing heat, "If you can beg and keep score then be my guest but if your apologies don't match up, I'm gonna start back at one but that's fair enough, right?" he explains teasingly. He sucks your clit back into his mouth and you squeal; not knowing of you want him to stop or not, you grab his hair.

He brings you to your peak again and you feel the tears beginning well up in your eyes, "No more, daddy... m'sorry! Oh fuck... daddy, please," You plead. Mark pulls back for a second, "Save the apologies for after. Stop cheating," he says smugly before pressing a kiss to you pussy. He rises up; sitting on his haunches, "Come kiss me," he says and waits for you with the faintest hint of a smirk.

You clamber over to him and he grabs the back of your head. You know how rough Mark intends for this kiss to be but as always, his adoration for you wins and he kisses you like you're his lifesource. "Taste yourself... How lucky am I, right?" he mumbles against your eager lips.

You whine again when Mark lets you go and you watch as he pulls his t-shirt off before staring at you expectantly. "I... What d'you want... what should I do?" Mark smirks, "Oh you're waiting for me to take your nightgown off?" he chuckles, "Get busy, miss independent."

You frown, "But you always do it... And you said before you were gonna do it." Mark slips his hand between your thighs, "Oh, but I also said before that you should wait for me to come back- stop cherry picking."

"I'm not, daddy," You beg. "And on top of that..." Mark ponders, "You said you'd wait for me to come back home but you didn't... Doesn't that make you a liar, baby? Huh?" he strokes you just the way you love it, "Daddy, daddy, daddy... Fuck me... Please, daddy. Oh my God, daddy," You release again, "Daddy, please... please."

Mark releases you and pushes you down onto the mattress, "How many so far?" he asks you softly. You freeze for a moment, your eyes stuck on his and your body shaking violently, "I- uh... three," You reply. Mark chuckles as he comes down to kiss you, "You weren't sure for a second. Love that..." he sits back up and pushes down the waistband of his Adventure Time pajama bottoms along with his briefs. He presses into you slowly and fills you as he bottoms out, "That pussy sucks me in every time, baby... Every fuckin' time," he rumbles against your ear; hips drawing back to pull out of you and he looks down at your swollen pussy to watch as his cock disappears inside you.

You spread your legs wider and accept him just as you always do. Eagerly. You shriek as his fingers draw circles against your clit, "No, Mark, no, Mark, no Mark," You babble as you finally break. Tears roll down the side of your head and your body jolts violently from the collision of his hips against yours. Mark laughs devilishly, "Aw, my baby... Is this too much for you?" he purrs. "Y-yes," You whimper. Mark shakes his head ever so gently, "No, it's not."

You whine louder and heave with each stroke of Mark's fingers over your clit. "You know I'm not gonna cum inside you tonight... Can't stop thinking about how good you'd look with my cum on your stomach."

You nod stupidly and clench around his thick cock, "Daddy," You groan and his fingers speed up. This time, you sob weakly as you come undone, body too weak to anything other than to lie there limply.

"I know you like this shit because you're such a nasty little girl. I don't like being mean to you but you make me do this, baby. You gotta listen to me sometimes. You gonna listen to me more often?" Mark lolls against the corner of your mouth. You nod.

"There you go lyin' again," he chortles, "Last one. Let's make it count." Mark pulls out of you and moves you onto your stomach. Raising your ass into the air, he gives it a slap, "Up."

You raise up and he pulls you close to him; his left arm circles across your torso and he guides himself back into you, "One more time, mama. You're almost done," he coos, "Cum on my dick, baby." His fingers press harder against you and you suck in a deep breath, clenching as Mark fucks into you. You cry; damp body spent and face wet with tears, you clench your pussy as you cum around his cock. Incoherent whines fill the room as you release. You see stars behind your eyelids and Mark pushes your upper half down, "How many times are you gonna apologize to me?" he asks as he grabs your hips. You let out a shaky breath and sob into the mattress; yelping in surprise when Mark pulls out of you and turns you over onto your back.

"How many times, Y/n?" he presses as he traps your arms above your head. "Daddy, please," You squeak desperately. Mark rolls his hips, pubic bone massaging your clit. "How many?" he repeats.

"Four?" You whimper with only a pinch of confidence. Mark quickly pops that bubble too.

"Are you sure about that?"

"Y-yes?"

"Was that a statement? It sounded like a question, Y/n. Are. You. Sure?"

"I am! I am, I am, I am... I'm sure... Daddy, please."

"Good... now apologize," he grunts, "Look at me and apologize. If you look away, I'll make you start over." You wriggle in an attempt to stop his hips from stimulating you so well. You look up at him, "Y- you... said- no... no more," You sob. "Okay so I lied... Are you gonna do something about it?" he asks you and you know he's checking to see if you're in need of the safeword. "I'm- so-rry," You hiccup as you hold his gaze; determined to finish what he started. He gives you a proud smirk, "You're so fucking pretty when you cry for me, baby... So gorgeous..." he praises you as his own orgasm builds up almost entirely. He's waiting for you to finish apologizing. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" You cry as you release one last time, body finally giving out. You shake and tremble as Mark pulls out of you, "Fuck, baby... Gonna cum," he moans as he squeezes your wrists and bot tighter. It hurts and you moan at the dull ache. Mark jerks himself off, finishing with a spent moan as he paints his cum across your lower abdomen; focusing especially on your piercing, "Yeah, baby... that's it," he mumbles and lays down on top of you

Your trembling body relaxes when Mark sandwiches you comfortably between his own body and the mattress and he kisses you as he eases his cock back into you, "Okay, young lady, good job." He flips you both onto your sides and you lay sticky against each other; thoughts of changing bed sheets and doing laundry miles away.

Mark kisses your cheek, "Are we good? Are we fair? Are we square?" he asks you playfully. He peppers kisses all over your face and you grab his chin to shower him in your own kisses of adoration. "Uh huh... we are. Yeah," You chuckle and he hugs you close, "Fair, square, and in love," he mumbles.

You nod weakly, "Hell yeah, dude."

Mark kisses your neck, "Oh, can tell you something?" he murmurs into your skin. You nod slowly, "Go for it, baby."

"So uh... you said I made you cum four times but I really have no fuckin' idea," he says as he bursts out laughing, "When I asked you if you were sure I was serious!" You rub slow circles into his back and laugh weakly, "I had a feeling you didn't know but at least you weren't a jerk about it," You hum contently.

"I dunno... I made my baby cry," he whispers smugly. You hug him closer, "Okay now you're being a jerk."

Thank you for reading!!!!

#andysorbit #k-labels #kvanity #nct smut #nct 127 smut #nct hard hours #nct hard thoughts #nct dream smut #mark lee smut #mark lee fic #ambw kpop #kpop ambw #ambw smut #nct x black!reader #kpop smut for black girls #kpop smut #nct #nct 127 #nct dream

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munson-blurbs · 2 days

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hope you don't mind me asking but could reader adopt harris officially? it'd be a sweet little blurb ☺️

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

Summary: Harris makes a special request on his birthday: for you to adopt him and officially be his mommy.

TW: mention of parental neglect/drug use, pretty much just all fluff and happiness

WC: 2.2k

A/N: Happy Mother's Day to all of the moms out there! Y'all are badasses who deserve to be celebrated. I used this video for the judge's dialogue to ensure accuracy.

February 2001

“So, Har,” Eddie starts through a mouthful of cake, “did you have a good birthday?”

Harris nods emphatically, digging into his own slice. A dollop of vanilla frosting dots the tip of his nose, but he continues eating, unbothered.

Eddie looks at you as you try to contain the inevitable mess that Hendrix will make. His chubby cheeks are already decorated with chocolate cake, and he’s only a few bites in. “Can you believe we have a nine-year-old now?”

You shake your head. The years truly have flown by, and though you haven’t had the privilege of being there for all of them, it feels as though Harris’s fifth birthday was only yesterday.

“What’s crazy to me is that Harris is the same age you were when I took you in,” Wayne says to Eddie. He glances at his nephew, a wistful look in his old eyes.

“Oh, yeah!” Harris grins. “I forgot you took care of Daddy.”

Eddie leans back in his seat and smirks. “Did you ever regret adopting me, Old Man?”

“Every damn day.”

While he may have tuned out his dad and grandfather’s back-and-forth, you can see Harris pause before he continues eating. He’s never been one to stifle his curiosity, the wheels in his head turning as he processes the information.

His time to ask a question grinds to a halt when Hendrix slams his little palm right into the cake slice, grabs a chunk of it, and smashes it into his face. If any actually got in his mouth, it would be a miracle.

Harris gets his opportunity later that night. Eddie tucks him into bed, pulling the SpongeBob comforter up to his chin, and kisses his head.

“Daddy?” Harris asks before Eddie can stand up.

“Hmm?”

“Why did Grampa adopt you?”

Eddie exhales, chewing on the inside of his cheek. As his eldest son has gotten older, he’s become more honest with him, not constantly shielding him from painful truths. He chooses his words carefully before speaking again.

“Well, my mom and dad weren’t good parents. They didn’t take care of me, and they made a lot of bad choices,” he says. Memories flash through his mind, ones of eviction notices and strangers constantly in his home. Ones of police officers snapping handcuffs on his parents’ wrists, the two of them too far gone to even register to the severity of the situation. He shakes it off, turning his attention back to Harris. “And so Grampa Wayne took me in and adopted me so I would have a safe, happy home.”

“Like how my mom made bad choices? My real mom?”

Eddie nods, wondering if Harris knows how closely their situations resembled each other. Except you did what your father didn’t–you changed, he reminds himself.

“Yeah, like that.”

Harris thinks for a moment. “But now Mom is my mom. So does that mean she adopted me?”

“No, she didn’t adopt you.” His heart sinks when he sees the small pout forming on Harris’s lips. “Not yet, anyway.”

“Why not?”

Eddie scratches at his jawline, his nails digging into a particular itchy patch of stubble. “Well, honestly…we wanted to make sure it was what you wanted, Har. Because Mom will love you no matter what,” he makes sure to add.

Without any hesitation, Harris declares, “It’s what I want.”

“Are you sure? You can sleep on it—” Eddie feels a smile tugging on the corners of his mouth despite his attempt to remain neutral. Yes, his son often acts on impulse, but Eddie can tell this isn’t one of those instances.

Harris huffs out an impatient sigh, irritated that he even has to explain himself. “Dad, I’m nine now,” he says matter-of-factly. “I’m almost double-digits. And I know I want Mom to adopt me.”

Eddie grins wider, pressing a kiss to his son’s forehead. “All right, bud. You got it.” He stands up with a grunt, something that Harris has already dubbed an ‘old man noise.’ “We’ll talk about this more tomorrow, okay?”

“Mm-hm,” Harris agrees sleepily, cocooning himself in his blankets while Eddie turns out the light.

Eddie is teeming with excitement when he sees you sitting in the family room, an open bag of sour cream and onion potato chips in your lap. Hendrix was fast asleep in his crib, and it was finally time for you and your husband to relax.

“So,” Eddie says, sliding onto the couch cushion next to you and plucking a chip from the bag, “it turns out that the birthday boy has one more gift request. A big one, actually.”

You raise your brows. “How big? Like, Hot Wheels track big or space camp big?”

“Neither.” Eddie’s eyes gleam. “He wants you to adopt him.”

You sit up quickly, a smile stretching across your face. “Are you…are you serious?”

“One hundred percent.” Eddie says with a nod. “He insisted on it, actually. I don’t think you could say no even if you wanted to.”

His teasing would normally draw a snarky retort from you, but you’re too overwhelmed to come up with a quip. “Harris wants me to adopt him,” you say slowly, letting each word seep into your tongue.

Eddie kisses your cheek, his nose brushing your warm skin. “This is everything I ever wanted for him, you know,” he murmurs. Another kiss, then he tilts your chin so he can place his lips on yours. “Thank you for loving him.”

You snuggle in closer, your head resting on his shoulder. “Thank you for letting me.”

September 2002

It’s a special occasion when you can convince Eddie and Wayne Munson to wear a suit and tie, but you didn’t even have to ask today. Both men are dressed with their shirts tucked into their slacks—not jeans.

You smooth out a pleat in your dress, scoop Hendrix out of his Pack-N-Play, and grin at your family.

“You guys ready?” You ask, desperate to get everyone into the car before someone spills something on their clothes. While Harris and Hendrix would be the most obvious culprits of a mess, the men are just as capable of causing chaos.

Eddie slings Hendrix’s diaper bag over his shoulder and takes Harris’s hand in his. “Let’s ship out, team.”

“Ship out!” Hendrix echoes–loudly, right in your ear. You wince, but you can’t stay annoyed for too long, considering how happy you are. How happy everyone is; even the baby of the family, who doesn’t know why he’s in a good mood, just that he is.

Everyone piles into the sedan: Eddie in the driver’s seat, you in the passenger seat, and Wayne squished between his grandsons in the back.

“Don’t know how I ended up here,” Wayne grumbles, reaching behind for his seatbelt.

Eddie grabs your hand as he pulls onto the road, giving it a tender squeeze. This is a huge deal; logically, you know this. To Eddie, he’s officially giving his son the mother he always deserved, and you’ll be able to make all sorts of important decisions for Harris. But to you, there is no piece of paper that can strengthen or weaken your love for your oldest son. Still, this is a promise from you to Harris, one that you will never break.

The courthouse’s silence is promptly broken with the Munsons’ arrival, as your family’s presence tends to do. Hendrix enjoys the way his delighted shrieks reverberate down the empty hallway, and Harris grips a nearby bench to jump out his nervous energy.

“Har?” you call out, waving him over to a private spot. He stops jumping long enough to follow you, shaking his hands excitedly.

You crouch down to his height and dig through your purse until you find what you’re looking for: a shiny silver compass with a quote engraved on the back:

“If you don’t get lost, there’s a chance you may never be found.”

“Uncle Dusty recommended his favorite compass, and he said you can bring it on your next camping trip” you say with a smile, your lower lip trembling as you hold back tears. “I hope that every time you use it, you remember that I’ll always be here to help you find your way.”

Harris looks from you to the compass and back again. He grins and flings his arms around you, nearly knocking you over in the process.

“This is so cool!” He cheers. “I’m gonna show everyone!”

“What do you say?” Eddie reminds him, a twinkle in his eye.

Harris barely turns around to you to yell, “Thanks, Mom!”

Mom. That title never gets old, and you don’t think it ever will.

“Munson?” You jump slightly when a bailiff announces that it’s your turn to see the judge. He gives a small smile as you enter the courtroom, probably relieved that this is a joyful occasion that won’t likely require his intervention.

This is it, you think. You wish your dress had pockets to hide your trembling hands.

Everyone takes their positions. Harris stands between you and Eddie, and Wayne holds Hendrix at the end, ready to make a quick getaway in case the youngest Munson decides to throw a tantrum.

The judge addresses you directly. Her tone is firm but warm as she says, “Do you understand that if your petition for the adoption of Harris Wayne Munson is granted, you will be legally responsible for him?”

“Yes.” You feel Harris’s palm slide against yours; when you briefly look down, you see that his other hand is holding Eddie’s.

“And do you understand that this support includes food, clothing, shelter, as well as medical and educational support?” She continues.

You nod. “Yes.”

“And do you understand that if your request is granted, that you will be Harris’s parent in all respects, just as if he had been born to you?”

“Yes.” Your heart swells with love. Just as if he had been born to you. Even with the memorable pains and trials brought on by carrying and delivering Hendrix, you considered Harris just as much your son.

“And do you understand you will be undertaking the intellectual, spiritual, and moral guidance of Harris?”

You can almost hear your husband’s thoughts: Better her than me.

“Yes.”

The judge goes through a few more questions, all regarding your abilities to care for Harris. With each one, you feel Harris’s bouncing get more exuberant; part of you wishes you could join him.

Finally, she declares, “Based upon the reports and recommendations, this court finds that granting this petition is in the best interest of Harris.” She looks directly at Harris as she says, “Congratulations, she’s officially your Mommy.”

A choked sob escapes your throat, and your free hand flies to your mouth. You and Eddie both crouch down to embrace Harris, and you can’t help but notice the tears in your husband’s eyes. Wayne makes his way to you and, as best as he can with Hendrix still in his arms, wraps you in a hug. You think he might be the only adult not crying, but a tell-tale sniffle gives him away.

Hendrix is very confused by the overt display of emotion. The last time Wayne cried was well before the boy was born, back when the Colts won the 1970 Super Bowl against the Cowboys.

“Daddy? Mommy? Grampa?” He asks. “Why you cry?”

“We’re fine, buddy. Just have some big feelings. Happy feelings,” Eddie clarifies, kissing Hendrix on a chubby cheek. He looks at Harris and grins. “How does it feel, Har? Now that Mom adopted you?”

Harris scrunches up his face. “Like the same.”

You laugh and ruffle his hair. It’s not as wild as it was when he was your student, his curls less of a mop. “Good ‘the same’?”

He grins, nodding and hugging you again. “I can’t wait to tell all of my friends, and Uncle Dusty, and Mr. Will…”

Harris continues listing people he’s going to share his news with all the way to the parking lot. Some names you recognize, and others he might as well be making up.

“Wait! I almost forgot!” You reach into your purse and pull out a Ziploc bag containing five Oreos. “Everyone take one, but don’t eat it yet.”

When each person has an Oreo in their hand, you raise your own to eye-level and begin your toast. “To my first son, Harris. Thank you for making me a mommy.”

“To Harris!” Wayne and Eddie chorus, and Hendrix just yells his brother’s name before chowing down on his cookie.

As you all pile back into the car, Eddie takes your hand in his. Chocolate is still tucked into the crevices of his lips.

“To you, Sweetheart. Thank you for being the mommy Harris always wanted. Thank you for making us a family again.”

The kiss tastes of vanilla creme, sugary sweet, and you swear you wouldn’t have broken it if Wayne didn’t clear his throat.

“No need to make a third kid up there,” he mutters under his breath.

Eddie glares at him, hoping Harris didn’t overhear the comment, but you press on. “Shall we celebrate at the diner?”

“Can we share pancakes?” Harris beams.

You crane your neck and look back at him, once again overwhelmed by the amount of love you hold for him–for your son.

“I’d love to.”

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #tui

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justmeinadaze · 2 days

Text

Little Girl Gone Part 6 (Steddie X You)

A/N: Ok, I forgoed the heavy cliffhanger I wanted to end it on but still have one none the less so don't get too cocky! Lol <3.

Warnings: Dom Officer Harrington/Gangster Munson & Sub Doctor Fem Reader, no smut today, lads!

Lots of angst! Eddie was arrested and Y/N gets interrogated. Mentions of deaths involving gunshots, child abuse from Eddie's father mentioned, Eddie hurt pretty bad in this (black eye, bruises, and burns) but not mentioned in in-depth detail. Reader is attacked by someone in her apartment but is rescued.

Word Count: 4271

Series here/ Donate to my Ko-Fi

Falling out the side building, Steve looked around jumping to the ground and reached up for you to do the same. Taking your hand, you both ran to your car and he opened the door for you ushering you in.

After speeding away, he paused on the side of the road to catch his bearings and check his phone.

“Shit. They called me like 10 times. FUCK!”, he growls as he slams his hands on the steering wheel. “I could have warned him. I could’ve—”

“Steve, this isn’t your fault; it’s Gabe’s.”, you try to soothe as you rub his back.

“I need to see what they know and where they are putting him for the time being. Just go home and wait there, ok?”

“What if the cops come?”

The officer sighs as he intertwines his fingers with yours.

“If they do, just remember what we taught you.” As you nod, he hastily leans down and kisses your lips. “Everything will be ok, honey.”

***

Two hours later, the cops did come for you insisting it was just to talk; not even putting handcuffs on you as you rode in the police cruiser to the station. Leading you to an integration room, you waited another thirty minutes before Steve and the detective you had seen him with before open the door.

“Hey Y/N. It’s good to see you again. I’m not sure if you remember me. I’m—”

“Detective Hopper…and this is Officer Harrington. I remember you two.”

“Good. Very good.”, he grins warmly. “Is there anything you need before we begin?”

“Begin what exactly? I was told I’m not under arrest so what AM I here for?”

“Huh. So you haven’t heard Eddie Munson was arrested this morning?”

“What? No, I hadn’t. You people woke me up to come here! Why did you arrest him?! He hasn’t done anything wrong!” Your eyes narrowed as you faked shock.

“Calm down, Miss Y/L/N. We’re just asking questions, ok?”, Steve sighed your way with annoyance laced in his tone. “You are dating a gangster.”

“I’m dating a businessman. He’s not the monster you people make him out to be. And it’s DOCTOR Y/L/N, asshole.”

“Well, if I may doctor, do you know this man here?”

Detective Hopper slides an image of your ex across the table towards you.

“Yeah, I mean that’s my ex from college Gabriel Wiley but I haven’t seen him sense he went in almost three years ago. Why and what does this have to do with Eddie?”

“It seems he had some information in regard to your boyfriend that could put him away for a long time.”

“I hope you didn’t take him seriously because Gabe was a notorious liar.”

“Hm, well unfortunately we’ll never find that out from him or anything else he wanted to tell us.”

While waiting for him to continue your eyes flick towards Steve whose features seem to paint more than just worry along his face. He knows something but he hasn’t been able to tell you or Eddie yet. Sliding another picture your way, your eyes widen as you gasp.

“He was murdered sometime last night.”

A commotion suddenly erupts outside with officers shouting for backup. The door to your room flies open as the gangster quickly slides to your side and grabs your hand.

“Listen to me, Y/N. Don’t listen to a thing they say, alright? I didn’t kill him. I swear on my mother, sweetheart. I’d never hurt you like that!” As Eddie’s pleas tumble out, policemen tackle him and force the cuffs onto him again as they begin to drag him back out into the lobby. “I didn’t kill him, Y/N! Please! Believe me! I didn’t do this!”

Glancing towards Steve again, you notice he’s wearing that sarcastic smirk you had seen many times but it didn’t match the frightened look that reflected back in his own eyes. It was taking everything in him to be calm and appear unphased as his world fell apart.

“Don’t tell me you really think he killed Gabe? Edward Munson isn’t capable of murder.”, you growled. “Plus, we were together last night.”

“Doing what?”

“Take a guess.”, you spit.

“Control your tone, little girl.”, Steve sasses making the other officer roll his eyes.

“Harrington, calm down. Miss—Dr. Y/L/N—we’re still doing an autopsy to find out when Mr. Wiley was murdered but at this time we have to ask, you don’t think he’d kill him out of jealousy? I mean this is your ex threatening to expose him. Of course, he’d—”

“Of course…because he comes from a crime ridden family my boyfriend would HAVE to have it in him to hurt someone like that, right? Eddie isn’t like his father. Plus, something like this doesn’t reflect a crime of passion.”

“What do you mean?”

Again, your eyes shift towards Steve who now genuinely seems to be interested in your theory.

“Gabe was shot in the head from what I see here. It’s too clean…as if someone wanted to just do this job quick and get it over with. If this WAS jealousy there would be more signs of trauma or he would have used a weapon more personal like a knife.”

“So, who else would want Mr. Wiley dead then?”

“You said he was going to sell out Eddie and you believe Eddie took over his father’s empire…” Steve stands up straighter at your implicated as the detective seems more confused making you huff. “Jesus and you’re a detective? It has to be someone who was trying to protect Allen.”

“Someone in his gang you think?”

“Well…only officers knew Gabe was going to make a statement right?”

Hopper’s eyes darken as he glares in your equally angry irises.

“That’s a big leap you’re making, Y/N.”

“Is it, Jim?”, you ask sarcastically squaring your shoulders. “I want Eddie out of here now.”

“Once we can confirm your alibi for him with the time of death and we finish searching his building he’s all yours. You may leave now.”

Gathering your things, you fume as you stomp out of the interrogation room and head for your car. Purposely leaving something behind, you wait in your vehicle until Steve finally runs out with your phone in his hand.

“You did so fucking good, honey. Are you ok? I’m sorry. They just told me about Gabe before we walked into the room.”

“I know. I know. I trust you. We need to get Eddie out of there, Steve. He’s not safe.”

“I’m doing everything I can to hurry these results. Thankfully, he was able to get a message to Jeff and the guys were able to hide all the supplies so they haven’t found anything nor will they.”

“Do you have any idea who would kill Gabe to silence him?”

“No and I feel like a fucking idiot for not thinking of that. I can’t be the only dirty cop right?”

“Sweetheart, you protect him and me, not every criminal in Hawkins.”, you try to sooth as you lightly touch his hand that was resting on your car.

“I’m going to focus on getting him out. Go back to your apartment and hopefully the next time I see you…he’ll be with me.”

##############

18 hours.

18 long arduous hours past and you still hadn’t heard anything. You called into work siting illness and left one of your nurses in charge. You barely sat down for a moment, refusing to sleep as you paced.

When someone knocked on your door, you didn’t even hesitate as you ran to open it.

“Oh. Hi. Um, can I help you?”, you asked to the stranger in front of you.

“Yes, are you Y/N? Steve said I should wait here.”

“May I ask who you are?”

“I’m Wayne, Eddie’s uncle.”, he announced as he walked past you and took a seat on your sofa. “Fucking Allen. I tried to go to the police station to raise hell but they wouldn’t let my nephew go. I went to the prison to try and talk to him but his father spoke to me instead. Said that Eddie was ‘indisposed’.” At his words, your eyes widened in fear as you ran towards your phone. “Steve said the results came in so he’s bringing him here soon.”

“O-Ok.”, you stutter as you sit beside him before immediately rising to your feet again. “W-Would you like anything? Any coffee or?”

“No, sweetheart, I’m fine. Thank you. It’s nice to finally meet you. He talks about you and Steve all the time. He calls you two his Paladin and his Princess.”, he chuckles making you smile. “I’m glad he’s happy. After everything that boy has been through he deserves it.”

Your front door abruptly opens with Jeff and Steve carrying an unconscious Eddie over each of their shoulders with Gareth trailing behind. Your doctor mode promptly kicked in as they placed him on your bed and you checked him over.

“He passed out in the car. I’m surprised he was able to even fucking walk out of the station.”, the officer relayed with a shake in his tone. “I don’t know what they did to him but…”

“I imagine it was Allen. If your theory about an officer is correct, that same officer could have told him that he hadn’t followed through with killing the ex. This would be punishment.”, Wayne responded as he watched you work.

“It’s Eddie’s gang. He can do what he wants.”, Garth growled.

“Not to Allen, son.”

“Eddie, baby. Can you open your eyes and look at me?”, you asked in a stern but comforting voice as you caressed his cheek. He was littered in bruises especially along his stomach and face. His eye was beginning to swell and his nose had dried blood underneath it staining his skin. What killed you the most where what looked like cigarette burns on his arms. “Jeff, in my kitchen under the cabinet I have a first aid kit with some burn cream and bandages meant for burns. Can you bring that to me?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I brought this from my apartment. I didn’t know if…” Steve hands you the medicine you prescribed him for his own bruises making you smile up at him as you kiss his hand.

“I don’t think anything’s broken but—”

“Can you boys go back to his building and assess what the police did? If anything is out of place or missing let Steve or myself know. Please be careful. If this is a cops doing…” Both men nod as they run off to do what Wayne commanded. Pulling the officer aside, they whisper to each other as you focus. “What did you find out?”

“Gabe reached out to the station from a hotel outside of town. One officer answered and two others went to pick him up. They were the ones who reported his body. Eddie’s guy dropped him off at 1am, he texted her at 3am… his time of death was estimated between 3 and 3:30.” As he said his last sentence, Steve’s eyes locked with your own.

You ex most likely texted you believing that someone was there to protect him before being murdered. You were the last person to hear from him. At the time they knew you wouldn’t but Eddie had offered to drive you to where he was. If for some reason you said you wanted to be with Gabe instead of them, you would most likely be dead to.

“I’m so sorry, honey.”

You nod as you turn away and place an ice pack on the gangsters abs.

“I’m going to do some research on those cops. When did they report the ex’s body?”

“Around 5. They left the station around 4.”

“Ok…I’ll still do a check but…I’ll be back. Keep me updated, Steven.”

The officer nodded after him as Wayne left the apartment and grabbed one of your dining room chairs so he could sit near you both but not be in the way.

“What does he do; Eddie’s uncle?”, you mumble.

“He used to be a manager at one of the plants over here. Did that till Ed graduated. After, he got into private eye work helping families reconnect and shit like that. He’s actually really good at it.”, he smirks as his sad eyes watch you finish taping his partner’s arm. “Is he gonna be ok?”

“I think so. It seems like his dad…wanted to torture him…more than kill him.” As you begin to sob, Steve collects you in his arms and places you on his lap. “I don’t understand how a parent could do something like this.”

“Because Allen isn’t a parent; never fucking was. The Munson’s in those early years were extremely ruthless and vindictive. He killed for pleasure and ran his side of town like a fucking dictator. He was the same way with Eddie. From what he told me anyway. Abandoning him with Wayne was the best thing that asshole ever did for him.”

While Steve passed out beside him holding the gangster’s hand, you stayed awake constantly checking on his progress and making sure he was still breathing. Not being able to keep your eyes open any longer, you fell asleep in the chair beside him with your head against the mattress.

***

Waking up with a start, you gasped before calming yourself when you realized everything was alright, it had just begun to lightly rain outside. Steve was gone but left a note by your hand saying he left to go meet Wayne and get some more details but he’d be back in a few hours.

After quickly checking over Eddie, you headed down your hall towards your kitchen to get some water but as soon as you crossed the threshold of the hallway something hard collided with your face. Falling to the floor, you try to collect yourself but whoever hit you was faster, pinning you to the ground and wrapping their hands around your neck.

You tried to scream but you couldn’t breathe as you slowly began losing air. The world around you began to go dark and you knew soon you’d be gone.

The person above you abruptly howled in pain, falling to his side as you rolled over and coughed trying to collect as much oxygen as you could. You heard the struggle behind you before silence suddenly fell over the room. When a bloody hand touched your hip, you begin to limply fight back.

“It’s me. It’s me, sweetheart. It’s me. Are you ok?”, Eddie asked as crawled closer to you.

A broken cry escaped you as you circled your arms around his neck and he clung you tightly to his chest. The door to your apartment quietly opened but as the officer came around the corner he was anything but.

“Jesus Christ! What the fuck happened? Are you two alright?!”, Steve asked as he skidded to his knees and Wayne turned on the lights.

When he tried to touch you to check on you, you didn’t even look his way as you held on to the gangster tighter and buried your face in the nook of his neck. Eddie could feel your hands and body still shaking and it killed him.

“It looks like we were right, Steven.”, Eddie’s uncle sighs as he pulls his nephew’s knife out of the other officer’s back. “Officer Douglas…I guess he came here to finish Gabe’s job. He’s still alive. Was there anything else you wanted to get out of him or can we do this quickly and cleanly?”

“Leave him there.”, Eddie answered for him flatly as he placed his palm against the back of your head, petting your hair tenderly.”

“Edward, this is a cop. Are you sure you want to—”

“LEAVE HIM THERE!” Steve jumped at his loud growl, never hearing this particular tone before from the man he loved.

Giving him a final nod, Wayne patted the other man’s shoulder comfortingly before heading out the door and leaving you three alone. Unsure of what to do next, Steve kicked into the only other gear he knew, grabbing another one of your chairs from the dining room and dragging the knocked-out officer to it before tying his hands behind his back.

“Look at me, baby. Let me see you.”, Eddie cooed as his hands cupped your face and tilted your head back. You had a cut above your eye that was beginning to swell and purple bruises were starting to form around your neck from where the man had choked you. “Do you think can stand so we can sit on the couch?”, he whispered.

Without waiting for an answer, Steve bent down and lifted you into his arms, placing you on the sofa before coming back to take Eddie’s hand and guiding him to sit beside you. You both listened as he headed towards your room and came back with the first aid materials he saw you use on his partner.

While you watched the officer fumble with getting everything together, the gangster kept his eyes you, taking note of your silent but seemingly calm demeanor. Sitting on your coffee table, Steve cleaned your wound carefully trying not to cause you anymore pain. As he started tearing open the bandage, you reached out to stop him, lightly tapping his hand and pointing towards the gauze squares.

When he finishes his task, he glances over at Eddie, silently asking if he needs any first aid but the man shakes his head.

“I’ll keep an eye on him. You two go lay down.”

After rising to your feet, you took the gangster’s hand and slung his arm behind your neck as you guided him back your bedroom. As you curled up in his side, his fingers absently played with your hair as he glared up at the ceiling. Not being able to control it, you began to cry again as he held you tighter to his body.

“Whenever my dad would scream and yell at men in our house, my mom used to hold me by her side just like this. After she died, he started screaming at me. I could never do anything right and he accused me constantly of being weak like her.”

You didn’t move or acknowledge you were listening but he knew you were, turning his head till his check rested on your forehead.

“That last year was the worst… he needed to get through to me, he said. He hired some of his goons to jump me when I was walking home from school to beat the shit out of me. When I was 12, Wayne said he wouldn’t tolerate this anymore. ‘Give me Eddie and I’ll take care of him.’ My dad dropped me off three hours later… I told myself when I took over that I would never treat any of my men the way he treated me and I don’t. He still has people though that are loyal to the ‘original true Munson’. They helped him carry out this particular punishment.”

As he murmured his last couple of words, you pushed up on your elbow to look at his face and his sad, heavy eyes met yours.

“I think it’s my turn to punish Allen… starting with that fucker out there…”

There was a darkness that clouded his eyes then. Something you had never seen before, rattling you slightly as you blinked and laid your head back down against his chest.

###############

That morning when you woke up, you were alone but you could hear their voices as they spoke in your living room.

“How many more cops work for Allen?”, Steve asked angerly to the man tied to the chair.

“You know, Harrington, I never would have taken you for dirty. You could have been making way more money if you picked the right Munson.”

Ringed fingers grabbed the other officer’s throat violently as Eddie pressed his nose to his own.

“You attacked and almost killed someone important to us. No matter what you aren’t going to leave this building alive but you’re the one that gets to choose if it’s quick or a slow, agonizing, painful death. Be lucky you’re getting the fucking option.”, he spat he let the man go and punched him hard in the stomach.

“What does it…matter…freak?”, Officer Douglas coughed. “Your father has allies everywhere. That bitch was marked for death and it will happen. Wait until he finds out you’re fucking a cop to. He’ll probably follow through with finally killing your ass!”

“Did you kill Gabe?”, you asked as all heads shift your way.

“Fuck you.”, he cursed causing Steve to punch his face, spraying blood on the floor.

“She asked you something. Fucking answer.”

The other man chuckled as he threw his head back to glare your way.

“Yeah, I killed him. I’d like to tell you he went out like a man but little shit cried begging, fucking BEGGING, for us to spare you. ‘Please! Please! She’s a good woman! Leave her be! Wa-wa.’”

You have no idea what came over you but you flew towards him, swiftly taking Eddie’s knife in your hand, and pointing it at the man’s throat.

“You won’t do it, little girl.”

“Oh yeah? You killed someone I cared about, tried to kill me, and then you and your little fake gang of nostalgic assholes hurt one of the men I love. Why shouldn’t I?”

“Because you’re weak. Just. Like. Them.”, he grumbled sassily.

Who you were and you were becoming began fighting within your brain as the knife began to quiver in your grasp. You wanted nothing more than to hurt this man like he had you but you were scared. A steady breath warmed the back of your neck as Eddie’s palm slid down your arm and he wrapped his own hand around yours holding the weapon.

“Don’t think about it. If you think about it, you’ll talk yourself out of it.”, he whispered.

“Eddie—”

“Shut the fuck up Steve.”, the gangster growled as his other arm wrapped around your stomach and pressed your back against him. “You can do it, pretty girl. You aren’t weak are you?”

“No.”

“Louder.”

“No, sir. I’m NOT weak.”

“Then do it, princess. Do you think he was going to show you any mercy when he had his hands around your throat? No. He was going to fucking kill you. Return the favor.”

Before you could do anything, a loud bang from Steve’s gun filled your ears as they began to ring and Eddie lightly pushed you away from him, taking his knife from your grasp.

“I know you’re hurting and these last few days have been rough but that does not give you license to play with her like that.”, Steve sneered in anger towards his partner. “If she wants to kill someone, that’s up to her. If she wanted to kill him, I would have let her but what you just did…trying to force her…”

“I wasn’t forcing her. I was encouraging.”

“Bullshit.”

“She needs to become stronger for what’s in store, Steven. More people are going to come after her until it gets through to Allen that I’M in charge. I know the line has been blurred because of our relationship but let me remind me of something, babe. I’m the gangster and I run a business. Jason was smart enough to back away but my father isn’t and it’s my turn to teach him a lesson. ANYONE who is loyal to that man will be put down. I’m done playing nice guy.”

“Edward Munson—”

“What, Steven Harrington? Are you going to throw me in jail and turn yourself in? Yeah, now we know what your police force does with people like that so give it a go.” The officer cocks his gun again and points the barrel towards his boyfriend’s head. “What are you going to do, sweetheart, huh? You’re gonna kill me?”

Tears stung Steve’s eyes as his hand began to shake.

“Please, honey, don’t do this. If you do, I’m going to lose you anyway because Allen will kill you.”

Standing up straighter, Eddie, pressed his forehead further into the weapon as if to challenge him.

“So be it.”

Another gun cocking echoed through the apartment as you held it up towards the officer in front of you.

“Drop it, Steve.”

“I can’t do that, Y/N.”

“Now, Steven, or I swear to God…”

Feeling defeated, the officer lowered his weapon and tucked it back into his holster as you turned your own on the gangster himself.

“I understand why you feel like you need to this and I’m not going to try to stop you but you need to heal and you need to be smart about this.”

“I don’t need to be anything, little girl. I already told you that neither of you have a say in what I do and this will not stand.”

Growling low in your throat, you place the gun on the counter.

“And I already told you that I’m involved whether you like it or not. Someone just tried to kill me again but this time they almost succeeded. Now, you will get back in bed and rest while Steve cleans up the mess here. Do I make myself clear, little boy?”

Steve’s eyebrow quirks as Eddie’s eyes darken further.

“The fuck did you just say to me?”

“You heard me.” Matching his stance, your chest comes level with his as your glare up at him. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

###############

@5tud10-54r4h @munsonzgf @eddiesguitarskills @supraveng

@lilaclazer @ima1986 @micheledawn1975 @foreverminliv @corkadymu

@lemme-slytherin-that-dick @joannamuns9n @dashingdeb16 @sashaphantomhive @corrodedcoffincumslut @aactuaaltraash @nailbatanddungeon

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hearts-hunger · 3 days

Text

evergreen — part two

Read on AO3 | Masterlist | Cabin Fever Masterlist | Join my taglist here!

Series Summary: Jake takes you on your first vacation to the cabin the gang stays at every year. When memories of past relationships loom heavy, will this vacation send cracks through the foundation of safety and trust you have in each other?

Chapter Summary: You're trying to let the past stay in the past, but Jake keeps making it difficult.

Pairings: Jake x Reader, Josh x Baby, Sam x Danny | Genre: fluff, angst, emotional h/c | Word Count: 4.4k | Warnings: smoking, sexual innuendo, mentions of infidelity

A/N: Hehehe more Jake being and idiot and Sparrow struggling emotionally. We're in for a little more before the end, but at least Baby and the boys are there for them ♡

You woke to a late morning sun, dappled daylight shining as well as it could through the trees growing right outside the window. Jake was on top of you, as he always was, his legs tangled with yours and his arm snugly around you, his face tucked into the crook of your neck. You absently brushed his hair back from his face, trying to take stock of yourself as you became aware of a vague, constant achiness.

Oh, right — margaritas strong enough to down a grown man, one cigarette too many, sleeping in a bed you'd felt completely uncomfortable in. All that was why you felt like you'd been run over by a truck. You needed to shower and take something for your headache and get out of this bed you hated with every fiber of your being, but you couldn't face trying to move just yet.

Jake stirred and moved closer to you, if that was possible.

“Sparrow,” he mumbled. “You awake?”

“Yeah,” you said. “Hi.”

“Hi yourself.” His morning voice was deep and raspy. “What the hell did we drink last night?”

“The whole liquor cabinet.”

He gave a soft laugh that trailed off into a groan. “Yeah, I guess so. You feel okay?”

“Oh, I feel super,” you said. “How do you feel?”

“Like roadkill.”

You snorted. “Sexy.”

He propped himself up a little, looking down at you with a scrunchy, dazed kind of smile.

“If you say so,” he said. “That reminds me. We were gonna do some swashbuckling last night, weren't we?”

“We sure were,” you said, “before you passed out.”

“Right.” He gave you a quick smooch good morning, as he always did. “Sorry about that. I can make it up to you right now if you want.”

You gave a doubtful hum. “We need to shower. And brush our teeth.”

“Oh, come on,” he coaxed. He kissed your neck. “Napoleon told his wife not to bathe for three days before he came home and ravished her.”

Though you usually wouldn't have minded some sweaty, tangled-up morning sex, there was no way you were doing that in this bed.

“Too bad you're not Napoleon,” you said sweetly.

He didn't get the hint, perhaps too absorbed with kissing your collarbone. He was still dressed in his clothes from the day before, but you were in nothing but your underwear; you couldn't exactly blame him for exploring what was usually available for his enjoyment, but no part of you wanted him to touch you like that in this bed.

“Jake,” you said, gently pushing him off you. “Let me up, babe.”

He did, respecting your less subtle cue but giving you a wry smile. “You must really not feel good,” he teased.

It wasn't your hangover that was killing your libido, and you were a little annoyed that he didn’t know that. You sat on the edge of the bed, touching a hand to your pounding head.

He ran a soothing hand over your back. “You feel sick, honey?”

You didn't answer that. You did, but you didn't want to tell him why. You wanted him to use his brain and figure it out himself.

“I’m gonna go shower,” you said. You blindly grabbed a shirt from the drawer, and it happened to be Jake's “I'm the reason all the rum is gone” tee.

“Oh, now you’re just teasing me,” he said with a smile.

“I'm not teasing anybody,” you said, and you surprised yourself with how harsh it was.

He raised a brow. “Okay, sparrow. I’m just messing with you, baby. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable.”

You wanted to say that not meaning to didn't make it any better; in a way, it made it worse. Where did he keep his brain sometimes? You felt it was stupid for him to be so oblivious, or maybe you should be thankful that he was. If he wasn't thinking about Izzy, why should you be?

You gave him a half-hearted nod, raw with guilt and discomfort. “Okay. I’m just... not in a great mood. Sorry.”

“You’re allowed to not be in a great mood,” he said kindly. “Go get a shower, honey. You want coffee?”

His gentle care for you wore down your frustration. “Yes, please.”

“Okay. It'll be ready for you when you get out.”

You gathered up some clothes and headed for the upstairs bathroom, but you heard the shower running in there already, so you made your way to the downstairs bathroom. Sam was in the basement fooling around on the mellotron, and you were mildly embarrassed to be seen in your current state of undress.

“Sorry,” you said bashfully. “Just going to shower.”

He squeezed his eyes shut. “All good.”

You laughed. “Thanks. You're a gentleman and a scholar, Sam.”

“Oh, I try.”

You took a long time in the shower, letting the hot water ease your many aches. Even from the basement, you could smell the promised coffee brewing, and you came into the kitchen to see Jake and Danny working on breakfast.

“For you, my dearest,” Jake said, handing you a cup of coffee made just the way you liked it. “Danny reminded me that we're switching rooms, so I went ahead and moved our stuff.”

“Oh,” you said, pleasantly surprised and relieved. “Thanks, honey.”

“Sure.” He kissed your cheek. “I’m gonna go shower. You look like you're feeling a little better.”

“I am,” you said truthfully. All of your worries had been very quickly assuaged with a simple room reassignment, and you felt a huge weight come off of you.

He smiled. “I'm glad, honey.” He slapped a bottle of ibuprofen into your hand. “Eat up.”

You huffed a laugh and boosted yourself up onto the counter. Danny was working on pancakes, his hair up in a claw clip and a dishrag over his shoulder.

“Thanks for mentioning the room thing,” you said.

He smiled. “No problem, sparrow. I didn't say why, just asked him if we were still switching. I'm sorry you had to stay in there last night. You could have moved our stuff.”

“He forgot, and he was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow,” you said. “I figured it was easier to stay put.”

“You're a good man, Charlie Brown,” he said. “I’d be climbing the walls in a room Sam had been in with his ex.”

You gave a rueful hum around a sip of coffee. “I almost was. He wanted to get into some... extracurriculars, shall we say, just now, but you can probably figure out how that went.”

“Not the way he pictured it, I imagine.” He added to the growing stack of pancakes. “He still doesn't know why you don't want to be in there?”

You sighed. “I guess not. Maybe I should be glad he’s not thinking of her, but I can't get her out of my head.”

“Who, me?” Baby came into the kitchen wearing one of Josh’s shirts and sleep shorts. “Sparrow, tell me it's me. I need an ego boost.”

“Girl, I'd rather it was you. But no, it’s Izzy.”

She looked over at you as she made herself a cup of coffee. “You didn't tell me you were into masochism.”

You and Danny laughed.

“They stayed in Jake’s old room last night,” Danny explained.

Baby's expression scrunched. “Oh, ew. Why?”

“Ask the genius,” you said wryly. “I guess it just didn't occur to him.”

She sighed and leaned against the counter. “Well, the Kiszka boys aren't famous for being the world's most observant on some things. Are you switching rooms?”

“Yeah, we kicked Sam and Danny out,” you said. Danny walked past you to take the plate of bacon to the table, and when both you and Baby reached out, he stopped and let you take some.

“Go round ‘em up,” Danny said. “Everything’s ready.”

You did as he said, and when you were all gathered at the table, the six of you enjoyed a leisurely breakfast peppered with mentions of how bright the sunlight was and requests to pass the ibuprofen. Jake sat next to you, one hand on the back of your chair, his thumb occasionally skating across your back in a soothing motion. That was one of your favorite things about him: those little, unobtrusive touches that told you he was there, that he was tuned into you even if he wasn’t talking to you directly.

“I heard you working on something earlier, Sammy,” he said. “Sounded very orchestral.”

Sam gave him a lopsided smile. “Yeah, it's just something I’m messing around with. Maybe a cool opening for Josh's ‘Heat Above’ song.”

“You want to put the mellotron on that?” Josh asked, animated.

“I was thinking kind of like Age of Man,” he said. “I can show it to you if you want.”

Josh was up out of his chair and down to the basement before anyone could stop him, if they'd been trying to, and Sam followed with a proud smirk on his face. All four brothers tried to impress each other with their new ideas, and you knew that Sam was pleased with Josh’s eager anticipation to hear what he’d been working on.

At the other end of the table, Danny and Baby were talking about their plans for a Chopped-style cooking competition. You and Jake sat in companionable silence, nursing your coffee and enjoying each other’s closeness.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” he said after a moment. The sun caught in his hair, bringing out the hint of red in it. “I really was just teasing. You know I don't want anything from you that you don't want to give.”

You touched his cheek. “I know, honey. I shouldn't have snapped at you. I’m sorry too.”

He gave you a gentle kiss. “Love you, sparrow.”

You smiled. “Love you too, Jakey. I think I’m gonna read out on the porch for a little bit. You wanna come and be bored to death?”

He breathed a laugh. “If you want me to, sure.”

“Or you can go jam,” you offered. You patted his chest. “Actually, go do that. I know you'd rather be playing music than watching me read.”

He considered that. “Okay, what if — and here's another one of my theories — I bring my guitar out and play while you read?”

“Again, not a theory,” you teased. “But sure. If you want to, I’d like that.”

He left to get his guitar and you grabbed your book and refilled both of your coffees, heading out to the porch swing. He came out with a throw blanket and his acoustic guitar, and he tossed the blanket at you and managed to cover your head with it.

“Ah, I get it,” you said, your voice muffled. “You don't want to see me while you hang out with me.”

He chuckled and rearranged the blanket so it lay over your lap. “Sorry. My toss was a little over-zealous.”

He sat next to you on the swing, playing an aimless tune that eventually made its way into Jackson Browne's “These Days”. You tried to focus on your book, but his voice was so warm and soft as he sang that you couldn't help but watch him play.

He noticed and looked over at you, giving you a bashful smile. “What?”

“Nothing,” you said. “I just like watching you play.”

His cheeks pinked. “Lucky you got a guy who does nothing but play guitar.”

You smiled. “Yeah, it is lucky.” You watched as he effortlessly picked out the solo in skillful, intentional movements of his fingers across the strings.

“You know this is kind of our song,” you said.

He nodded in that distracted way you liked, when he was focused on playing but still listening to you. “Yes ma'am. I remember.” You'd danced to this song at the wedding where you’d been reunited last winter, the same wedding where you’d finally done something about the feelings both of you had had for each other even after years of being apart.

“You know the words,” he said. “Sing with me.”

You blushed. “Oh, I dunno. I'd rather hear you without me screwing it up.”

He shook his head. “Your voice could never screw anything up, sparrow. Sing with me.”

You couldn't say no to him, not when he was so sweet to you. He started the next verse, and you offered a quiet, tentative harmony.

“Well I’ll keep on moving, things are bound to be improving these days.”

His smile was impossibly tender. “See? I told you. Beautiful.”

You leaned close and kissed him, slow and gentle and so in love with him.

“Say you love me,” you said softly.

He touched his nose to yours. “I love you, sparrow. More than you could ever imagine, and more than I could ever tell you.”

—

He went to join the guys downstairs after a while, and you felt a warm glow in your chest long after he’d left. You didn't know why you’d been so upset about the whole Izzy business — of course Jake was just being oblivious, and there was no malicious intent in his absent-mindedness. You decided to put the whole thing out of your mind and not let the idea of her intrude on your picture-perfect vacation to a beautiful mountain cabin with the ones you loved so dearly.

Putting a bookmark between the pages of your novel, you ventured inside after a bit to find everyone downstairs. Baby made room for you on the couch and shared her gummy worms, and you snacked contentedly while the boys worked on a song that wasn't entirely coming together.

“I don’t know, it feels a little boring,” Danny said. “It need something like — ” He played a driving beat on the drums, making ample use of the cymbals. “Something brighter.”

“It’s a ballad,” Jake said, shaking his head. “A love song. It just needs the bass drum and the toms, maybe.” He strummed a few chords, and Sam scrambled to join him on the bass. You watched, amused, as Jake was wholly absorbed in playing the tune at a blinding volume while Danny didn't play a single thing.

Jake looked up. “Yeah, like that,” he said.

Danny lazily twirled a drumstick. “Well, I wasn't playing anything, so...”

Jake gave him an abashed smile. “Oh. Well, maybe it doesn't need any drums. It's just an acoustic thing.”

“You’re cranked up to the loudest, crunchiest tone possible,” Danny pointed out. “Play it on acoustic and I’ll see what I can do with that.”

Jake sigh was half irritated groan. “Maybe we should just scrap it.” He tied his hair up in a bun, and you knew he must be getting frustrated — Jake never put his hair up when he was playing unless he was fed up with it and needed a little less sensory input.

“I don't know, man,” Josh said. “It’s not terrible. I like the chord progression.”

“Okay,” Danny offered, “what if i build up with the drums, like start off with just the bass and come in later on the snare, but keep it soft, and give it a few splashes? Or — ” He extended his hand to Sam, and somehow Sam knew to toss him the egg shakers. “I’ll do some kind of maraca thing, and you can do a beat on the body of the guitar like that Iron and Wine thing.”

“So many things,” Sam teased. “Is that the technical term, Daniel?”

Danny shook a maraca at him. “Yes. Don't question the master.”

Sam put up a hand in surrender. “I wouldn't dare.”

Jake unplugged his guitar and slung the strap over his head. “Let me think about it for a minute. I might decide I hate it.”

His brothers were content to let him take a break, changing tacks to work on the song Sam and Josh had played around with earlier. It was obviously missing a guitar, but it didn't sound half bad with the mellotron and a bright, splashy drum beat to accompany Josh’s voice.

Jake all but collapsed on the couch next to you. “Hi.”

You smiled. “Hi, honey. Rough day at work?”

He ran a hand over his face. “I guess. That song’s not my best work, but I thought we could try it.”

“Don’t give up on it,” you said. You handed him a gummy worm. “Here. A little something to take the edge off.”

He snorted. “Thanks.”

You brushed back a few wayward strands of hair that had missed the bun. “When did you write that song, anyway? I don't think I've ever heard it.”

“Sometime last year,” he said. “Summer before last, I think. I don't know.”

You tried to ignore the creeping doubt that you'd promised yourself you were done with. “Before you met me?”

“Well, not technically,” he reminded you. You’d been friends in high school before you’d lost touch for a few years. “But yeah, before we got together.”

“Right.” You hated the uncertainty in your tone. “And it's a love song?”

He sighed. “Trying to be, anyway.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. A love song that he'd written before you were together, presumably with someone else in mind. Izzy, namely. You felt a nudge from Baby, and you interpreted her sympathetic look to mean something like I’m sorry he keeps being stupid and you can't really blame him for it at the same time.

You let out a long breath. You knew you couldn't hold his past relationships against him, but it didn't exactly feel great to know he was working on an old love song he’d written for her. You wondered how terrible a girlfriend you would be if you told him to scrap it like he wanted to.

You steeled yourself. No, you remembered, you weren’t going down that road. The past was in the past, and you’d let it stay there, where it belonged, buried six feet underground.

That was a little morbid, granted. You didn't want Izzy six feet under, though you did wish for some karmic payback for the pain she’d caused Jake. But it wasn't yours to deliver, so you'd support this song if he really wanted to make a go of it.

You patted his thigh. “Come play some Pac-Man with me.”

“Ooh, me too,” Baby said, getting up to go with you to the game on the far side of the basement crowded with a pool table, a pinball machine, and a foosball table. Jake followed somewhat reluctantly, but you knew him; he couldn't pass up an opportunity to beat the pants off of you in any game. He was usually successful, except in spades, which he was terrible at for some reason; then, he always insisted on being on your team and letting you carry the two of you to victory.

As you played, he tried to give you pointers, but you were resigned to being awful at it.

“Come on, honey,” he laughed. “It’s kinda like skipping stones, remember? All in the — ” Your Pac-Man dissolved and died. “All in the wrist.”

You let him have a go, and he was much better at it; you and Baby watched intently as he moved up a couple levels before he lost.

“Damn,” he said, looking at the high scores. “Who's that at the top? That was one of us, right?”

He looked to Baby, and she fidgeted a little beside you.

“I think... I think it was Izzy,” she said cautiously.

He didn't say anything for a moment, and you listened with baited breath for how he would react.

“Huh,” he said finally, his tone as even as could be, as if revisiting a pleasant memory. “Yeah, I think you're right.”

As stupid as it was, you couldn’t stop the hot spark of frustration that flared to life in your chest.

“Guess she knew all about the wrist technique, or whatever,” you said flatly.

He shrugged. “I guess. She was good at that sort of thing.” He stepped aside to let Baby play, and she glanced over at you with an uncertain expression.

“You want to get beaten in foosball too?” Jake asked you, a playful smile on his face.

“No, thanks.” You turned to Baby. “Does Josh have any cigarettes hidden away somewhere?”

“Yes, and I’ll show you where,” she said, “because it’s a dumb hiding place where he thinks I won't get at them.”

She gave you a conspiratorial smile and looped her arm around yours, abandoning her game.

“You’re gonna die!” Jake protested.

“Sparrow needs me,” she said tartly. “Besides, who cares about a score on Pac-Man?”

You were glad she could sass him when you couldn't quite get up the nerve to, and you let her lead you upstairs to the room she and Josh were sharing.

“Holy shit, is he dumb or what?” she asked, rooting through Josh's backpack. She put on an affected voice. “Oh, she’s so talented and good at that sort of thing that you're bad at. What a moron.”

You couldn't help but laugh, thankful for her lighthearted tone and collusion with you in your frustration. She reached elbow-deep into the backpack and finally found the pack of cigarettes, holding them up triumphantly.

“Ha! Take that, Joshua.”

The two of you went out to the porch, leaning against the railing as you smoked. The air was chilly and fragrant with pine, and you closed your eyes and let the breeze soothe your riled emotions.

“Am I overreacting?” you asked. “Maybe I’m making a big deal out of nothing.”

She shrugged. “I don't know, sparrow. I was lucky Josh never brought anyone else here.”

You blew out a thin stream of smoke. “And Josh never had any serious relationships before yours, did he?”

“Not really, which is also lucky.” She looked a little wistful then. “We were too busy pining over each other to worry about anybody else, I think.”

Though you’d all been friends your last year of high school and the summer after graduation, you knew Baby had practically grown up with them. You hadn't been surprised to find out that she and Josh were together when you met up again last winter, and it also didn't surprise you that they'd spent a long time secretly in love with each other without saying it.

“Did you ever have a crush on the other guys?” you asked. “Even just a little thing?”

Her smile was telling. “Not really. I guess I thought Danny was a looker when he grew out of his awkward middle-school phase, but I like my guys a little shorter and weirder.”

You laughed. “I guess we have similar tastes.”

She flicked her cigarette. “In that way, yeah. But Jake and Josh are as different as night and day, you know that.”

“Sun and moon,” you said, remembering with fondness the comments you'd seen on social media posts featuring the twins.

She smiled. “Yeah, sun and moon. Sometimes a dumbass sun and moon, but hey.”

You sighed and put your cigarette out. “I don’t know what to do. Sam said I should tell him.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that advice from him before,” she said wryly. “Tends to be solid, but it’s easier said than done.”

“No kidding.” You heard the sound of Jake’s guitar join the song drifting from inside. “Would you tell Josh? If he was doing something like this?”

“Well, I'd like to think I wouldn't have to,” she said. “But... yeah, I would. I trust Josh. And I trust Jake, and I know you do too, even if he’s being an idiot.”

You scuffed your shoe against the railing. “Yeah.” You did trust Jake; you trusted him with every part of you, even the most vulnerable ones, and he’d cherished and honored that trust every time it had been put to the test. Why was this time so hard for you?

Baby gently bumped her shoulder against yours. “Why are you scared to tell him? You know he’d understand how you feel.”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “I don't know.” You hadn't talked to anyone about this before, not even your best friends who would surely have listened and given you advice, but you wanted to try and talk to Baby about it now.

“We’re out of the honeymoon phase, I guess,” you said. “Not that that’s a bad thing, and not that I expect us to break up or anything, but...”

“It's hard,” she said kindly. “I get it. The first time Josh and I had a big fight, a few months after we got together, I cried the rest of the night. I went super crazy and catastrophized the whole thing.”

That was a familiar feeling. You'd bickered more with Jake these past few months than you ever had when you first got together, and sometimes it had devolved into an actual argument. You hated it, but it was a natural part of relationships.

“I’m not used to that sort of thing,” you confessed. “Me and Jake... this is my first serious relationship, and I don't know what the hell I’m doing. I want to marry him, and I think he’s that serious about me, but... he was probably that serious about Izzy too.”

She didn't say anything for a moment, and you felt your heart sink. “He was, wasn’t he?”

She sighed. “I don't know. I won't lie and say he didn't love her. And I guess she loved him too, as much as you could love a person while still being able to cheat on them, which maybe isn't much.”

She put her cigarette out. “Jake’s like a totally different person with you, sparrow. He lights up like a firefly whenever you're around. I didn't know if he’d ever recover from Izzy, but he has with you, and he loves you like you're his heart.”

You swallowed around the tightness in your throat. “Really? You're not just saying that?”

She took your hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “No way, sparrow. You know me — I’m a straight shooter. And you fit with us like you were made for us, just like you do with Jake.”

You squeezed her hand back. “I love you.”

Her smile was a little wobbly. “Aw, sparrow, I love you too. I'm so glad you're in our family.”

“Me too,” you said softly.

She kissed your cheek. “I think Sam’s right. Go talk to Jake. You’ll feel better, and Jake will stop being so dumb, and then you can have super great celebration sex.”

You laughed, really laughed, and she laughed with you.

“You know I’m right!” she said. She gave you a gentle push towards the door. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”

You stopped at the door and looked back at her.

“I’m really glad you're my friend,” you said.

Her smile was warm and very kind. “Me too, sparrow.”

taglist: @viagvf @allieisacrybaby @itsafullmoon @spark-my-nature @anthemheatwave @xserenax-13 @musicspeaks @mountain-in-springtime @stardustsecret @alwaysonthemend @madneedshelp @josh-iamyour-mama @dannythedog

and some cabin fever besties who were excited for this one :) @shutupdevvie @gold-mines-melting @earthlysorrows @brooke-gvf

join my taglist here!

#don't worry. jake is so not done being dumb <3 #jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka fluff #greta van fleet fanfiction #gvf fluff #evergreen fic #jake kiszka angst #cabin fever fics #maddie writes stuff!

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luimagines · 19 hours

Text

Unlocking Our Chains in the Shadows

.....Ok.

More "original" work. ^.^*

Once again cowritten with @thesoftieanon with her character Hesper.

We once again lost our minds here. It's blind child, mafia au where this time Hesper was paired with Time. No demigods here though. Enjoy 29 pages of pure brain rot. We certainly enjoyed writing it.

Masterlist

Content under the cut!

When they first entered the house, it was stealth and deadly precision. They were a unit. A single track mind with the goal to meet and a target to eliminate.

They didn’t expect the place to already be filled with blood and carnage.

It was a massacre.

They stayed quiet, so as to not arouse suspicion if there were any traps nearby but the place had been cleared out. There were at least five dead men The Chain didn’t recognize and they found their target beheaded on his bed. Given that it was the middle of the night, this was a premeditated attack.

They were too late to get their own licks in- and had lost the one source of info that they had hoped to gain from him. A shame, but there was no use of crying over spilled milk.

An ear piercing scream shatters the sickly calm over the house, snapping all of their heads towards the rooms. A high pitched sound that unmistakingly belonged to a child.

Their hearts dropped.

While they weren’t afraid to get their hands dirty… they had often tried to stay away from the little ones. Whoever came before was unlikely not as kind.

“I want answers.” Time growls, signaling for Twilight and Four to follow where Sky and Hyrule had gone off to. Those two had no doubt found the child first. The boss of the group had to send Wild and Warrior to check the perimeter once more. If the scream had attracted any unwanted attention, they would have to be quick about getting out of there as quickly as possible.

It only took a few minutes.

Twilight returned with the child in his arms, shivering and sobbing quietly. Something pulls on the Boss’ heart strings. The small child could be no older than six years old. So young. And already so scarred.

“Don’t….” They whimpered. “Please don’t hurt me. Don’t hurt me like they hurt Father.”

Time sucks in a breath through his teeth. Sky and Four share an equally cringed look.

“We won’t.” Time tries to keep his voice level. The rage in his voice is already threatening to boil over at the dark scars on their arm. He doesn’t know where they came from, but it’s enough to know that this child hasn’t only suffered on this night- but perhaps many more before the attack. “We’re going to take you somewhere safe, ok? We just have to quiet for a little bit.”

They sniffle. “...No more bad guys?”

Time notices that the child doesn’t quite look in his direction. “No more bad guys.”

“Blind.” Twilight answers the unspoken question. He can see the confusion on Time’s face as clear as day. “Poor kid can’t see a thing. Doesn’t appear to be injury related.”

Time nods at his nephew. “Move out then. Don’t leave any evidence that we’ve been here.”

“Yes sir.” Was the answered chorus.

They move swiftly and silently and within the hour, they are back at their home base.

They’re quick to get the child settled, fed and cleaned. They don’t want to startle the child more so than they already were. Time interrogated Sky and Hyrule about their findings. Their target happened to be the child’s father, if they’re investigation was correct. The child had heard the house being broken into and hid in the closet for hours until they had arrived. The child hadn’t mentioned any other family.

Time sighed. They can’t exactly give the child into the system without giving themselves away but this was no life to live for the likes of a kindergartener. Wind was an exception. He had a little sister to look after the death of his grandma, but that didn’t mean they dragged on every mission they had.

Actually… now that he thinks about it… Aryll might be a bit closer to their age. Perhaps they could keep the child here. Aryll and Wind had nowhere else to go. Neither does this child.

Time sends the order to clean out a small space for the child to call their own. He calls Aryll over specifically and tells the young girl to keep an eye on them and help them feel comfortable. Be their friend.

Time calls over the boys and holds a meeting about the unsuccessful mission. No one seems to have anything to say.

He can’t blame them.

It’s late. They’re disappointed, tired and shocked.

Time holds a vote, mostly to see if any of them are against having the child here despite the challenges it would no doubt bring.

“Old man.” Warrior swallows harshly. “If we disagree, what do you plan to do?”

Time didn’t have an answer for him.

“Would you kick them out to the street?” Legend asks next, tempting the silence to answer back with teeth.

Time shakes his head. “Child of the enemy or not, they’re still a child. I’m not that cruel.”

A pregnant pause follows. It threatens to burst and explode but no one seems willing to take the needle to the pressure.

“No objections then?” Time raises a cool eyebrow. “It’s going to change our schedules by quite a bit. I expect all of you to play a part in making them feel welcome.”

Wild’s hands clenched into fists by his side. “With all due respect boss, it wouldn’t fit right by us to kick out someone with the same circumstances we all had at one point or another.”

Sky swallows harshly but says nothing.

Time allows himself to smile. The boys relax slightly.

“Dismissed.”

The boys nod and head out of the room. Only Twilight stays behind.

Time sighs and rubs his temple, already trying to compute mental calculations to keep things in order and figure out how to care for another vulnerable being in his charge.

“Uncle.” Twilight calls silently. “Didn’t the attack seem odd? …Right as we were about to get to our target, he’s already dead?”

Time shakes his head. “That drowned rat already had a bounty on his head. I’m not surprised he didn’t get wiped off the census earlier.”

Twilight hums and looks away. “You saw the scars on the child.”

“I did.”

“They’re also blind.”

“I saw that too.”

Twilight shuffles awkwardly on his feet. Time looks at him with the tender smile he only allows him to see when they’re alone. “What’s wrong pup?”

He takes another beat to answer. Time can see the veins on his neck pop as well as his jaw clench with whatever amount of force Twilight’s putting behind it. Twilight starts to shake. He’s pissed. “I’ve never been so angry on behalf of a person I’ve never met before, Uncle Link.”

Time nods. That’s his boy.

“I believe you.”

“I want to tear his heart out.”

“A shame he wouldn’t feel a thing.” Time answers dryly.

Twilight can’t help the wicked smirk that blooms on his face.

They say nothing more and depart.

The next few weeks are… strange to say the least.

The child is quiet and withdrawn. That’s to be expected. Aryll became close to the child and tried to be as close to them as possible. Due to this, Wind snuck past their defenses relatively quickly since that was his sister. Hyrule had been tending to the small bumps and bruises the child had sustained in their time in the house and also gained the child’s trust relatively quickly.

As weeks turned to months, Time didn’t know what to personally think of the child and didn’t go out of his way to form a relationship just yet. The child would come to him every now and then in his office and he’d let them sit in his lap. He’d hold them until they fell asleep and would carry them to their bed. But that was about it.

As more time went on, Sky and Four managed to get the child to giggle some more and explore some safe activities so that they weren’t bored. Twilight had taken to sitting in on their play time with playdough and beads and instruments to see if the child had started their schooling. If not, then the plan was for Time and him to make a curriculum and share it between Aryll and the child.

Legend didn’t seem to be in the child’s good graces yet, but the ones who were really struggling were Wild and Warrior. The child seemed to avoid them, but no one couldn’t figure out why.

Still that didn’t seem to break their spirits. Those two were just going to try harder and sweeter. In Wild’s case? Literally. He’d bribe them with sweets if he had to.

It wasn’t until the spring had begun to heat up for the summer that Time had gotten a rather unsettling invitation for a private meeting by none other than the Shadow Queen.

Now that Shadow Queen was another powerful boss that had built her empire from the ground up a long while ago. She was much more ruthless than Time and his Chain would ever be. Despite his own power, he knew better than to insult her intentions, no matter what they might be. They’ve never stepped on each other’s toes, never stepped beyond their borders and into each other's territory.

Time had no idea what Her Majesty wanted.

The boys were just as nervous as he was when he told them of the potential affiliation that would happen. They weren’t trusting of the circumstance but couldn’t come up with enough excuse to convince Time to not go through with it. The child comes up and hugs his legs.

“Will you be safe, papa?” They say.

Time feels his heart jump into his throat as he bends to their level. He tenderly moves their hair away from their face, kisses their forehead and gives them that same smile reserved only for solo time- but in front of everybody. “I will be back, safe and sound. I promise.”

Time leaves with his head held high.

That is until he gets to the center of The Shadow’s Queen kingdom. He enters through her casino with more unsettling ease.

It appears the guards have been expecting him.

He enters a back room and comes face to face with a desk with the chair facing away from him on the other side. He knows this trick. Time has played it multiple times himself.

He takes the chair facing the desk and crosses his leg across his knee, crossing his arms in a relaxed position.

She turns around and Time realizes that he’s actually seen her face before. Jet black hair and eyes that sparkled enough to rival the night sky at its fullest.

“You have something of mine.” She says sharply, tongue and tone all sharp and no doubt bladed.

Time doesn’t show any care or fear. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Does a six year old blind child sound familiar?”

“....I might know what you’re talking about.”

They have a stare down.

Time is trying to see if she’s willing to diverge any more information and the Queen herself wonders if the infamous Chain Boss is the weakest link of them all.

Neither of them want to back down. It would be a show of weakness that neither of them are capable of showing to the heads of the other mafia houses.

But there’s a desperation that Time doesn’t expect to see in the eyes of the Shadow Queen. It’s not the same cold blooded blood lust he’s heard so much about. This is a feral kind of hunger. A protection behind her fierce gaze.

This is personal for her.

He takes a chance.

"....I get them every spring and summer." Time offers. "You can have them in autumn and winter."

"I missed out on nearly six years, sweetheart, I'm not missing six months every year." The Shadow Queen chuckles, unamused. "You're cute, but not cute enough to get away with that much."

"You think I'm cute?" Time turns on his boyish charm, leaning in a little more to sell it further. "Regardless, a child needs stability. And my boys have grown quite attached to them. And while morality states that I hand the child over, you are a total stranger to them. It would do more damage than good to their psyche. I refuse to even so much as imply to abandon them. And my boys would very much agree with it."

She doesn’t answer him right away. Time knows that she’s chewing on his words. She’s taking him seriously. If she takes any longer to answer him then he knows that she’s considering his words.

Her fingers drum on the desk, well-manicured nails clicking against glass. She doesn't like it... but he has a point. And his charm is working better than she wants to admit. "... How about autumn and winter, plus weekend visits? So I'm not a stranger when we trade."

His eyebrows furrow invisibly. “....You’re the mother.”

She doesn’t answer him in that regard. Although her clicking nails subconsciously clack faster against the glass desk.

Time flexes his jaw, keeping a pleasant, if neutral, smile. "Naturally in autumn and winter the child will fall under your care. It's only fair to give the mother the holidays. And weekend visitation sits alright with me, so long as you come alone."

"That's not a problem, I was planning on that." She relaxes a little, seeming relieved. "I'm glad we could come to an agreement with minimal issues."

Time holds out his hand. "Pleasure doing business with you. I suggest making a place for the child and their wolf to stay in the meantime. I'll see you Saturday, your majesty."

He stands, brushing down his suit.

"I look forward to it." The Queen shakes his hand, standing with him. "Let me walk you out. Casino is hard to navigate the first time in."

"Of course." Time follows dutifully. He tries to look around as subtly as possible. You never know when he's going to need insider information.

The House of Umbra Casino was lively with customers drinking, gambling, chatting away. He notices bartenders and security guards roaming the floor, likely the Queen's people gathering intelligence. She chuckles after a moment, and Time realizes he's not quite subtle enough. "Taking notes on how I run things?"

"Only taking note of exits, my dear." Time responds casually. "The number of health code violations are minimal. I see why the business is unbothered."

It gets a small laugh out of her. "I take great care in my work. Do tell me the violations and I'll see they're taken care of."

"I hope you don't mind a closer examination then." Time turns his head and winks with his good eye. "On a later date, of course."

"Not at all." The Shadow Queen chuckles as they arrive at the door. "But for now, I'll let you go. Seems you have quite the family to get back to."

Time nods and leaves.

His mind is crowded with the idea that he might have a terrible decision. But he can’t afford for the others to see him dire straits. He needs to get his head on his shoulders and get down to business.

He informs his boys about the upcoming visit of the Queen and there is the expected outrage.

“You invited the Night Mother here to our base?! Just like that?!”

He didn’t expect Twilight to be the one to take issue with it though.

“Who’s that?” The child asks quietly from the doorway, silencing any further discussion.

They all stare at the child with apprehensive faces. Time forces a smile to his face and adds a more calming tone to his voice. “A friend. She wants to see you and is going to come by to play for a little bit on Saturday.”

The child perks up a little bit. “A new friend?”

“Yes.”

“...Would she like to play with Mr Wiggles?” The child shuffles nervously on their feet. Mr. Wiggle was one of the first gifts the chain had ever gotten them. It was their second day in the base and Legend had gone and bought them a stuffed elephant that Time was almost positive was actually a toy for infants. It had crinkly ears and what he thought was a rattle or a few bells hidden inside so it made a few noises when it moved.

They hardly went anywhere without him.

Time smiled a little more softly, shocking his boys even further. He’s starkly reminded of the way she all but begged him to get close to the child, how willing she was to agree to his terms without the threat of violence. If he looked closer, he thought he could see that very way their noses both curved and the slender hands that they shared.

Even if she hadn’t responded to him, Time knows better. She is the mother. But why wait until now to take the child back? He has more questions for her. “I’m sure she’d love to.”

The child smiles, bright and innocent.

The boys look back to him with valid faces of suspicion and distrust. Time meets them head on. “She’ll come by Saturday morning and will leave before sundown. I want a few of you boys to keep watch between her and the child. I don’t care how you do it, just do it.”

“Will she come alone?” Warrior frowns.

“Of course.” Time raises an eyebrow. “That was one of the conditions.”

“And she agreed?” Hyrule asks incredulously.

“I know. I was shocked too.” Time sighs.

Twilight shuffles awkwardly in his spot, not able to come up with an argument to stop what has already been agreed upon. The child walks further in and crawls onto Time’s lap once more. Time looks at his nephew and tries to not look too lost. “Pup?”

The young man wipes his hand harshly down his face and takes a deep breath. “I’ll be there.”

“Thank you.”

With that, they were off the races trying to get together the means to host The Queen herself into their humble base of operations. They went through with a deep clean of the place before tucking away any unnecessary info they would hate to be leaked.

Peaceful talk or not, they didn’t need an enemy to spy on their business.

Luckily, when she appeared in all her glory on the appointed day- it was hard to not see the panic in the way she walked. In the way she talked. It was much too business-like to speak with any child. She no doubt made Aryll uncomfortable as well. The young girl had offered to spend the day with the child and the Night Mother as well, if only for the child to have more familiarity with the stranger.

Twilight, Sky and Hyrule had offered to take shifts until The Queen left.

No one seemed willing to make eye contact with the woman- not that Time could blame them.

They took to fingerpainting when playing with Mr. Wiggles wasn't enough to distract the children.

The first day wasn’t a total disaster in the end though. Even Time had to admit that. He walked the Shadow Queen to the door and put himself between her and the boys he considered his own.

“Well, your majesty?” He offered his hand. “Was it everything you wanted to be?”

She bit her lip before banishing whatever nerves she may have had left over. “It will suffice.”

A beat passes before her anxieties take hold once more. “Did I frighten them?”

“You frighten everybody.” He shrugs, not willing to rise to whatever bait she’s planting. “Should I expect your carriage next week at the same time, your majesty?”

“Call me Hesper.” She once again doesn’t bother answering her question. “It’s easier that way.”

“Hesper.” He says her name slowly, savoring the way it tastes on his tongue. “Very well. Drive home safely.”

She nods and he closes the door.

Very quickly they all fell into the strange and unorthodox routine of this new arrangement. The child was still a little apprehensive around the woman and the woman had yet to fully break out of her business tycoon persona to let the child in. It was almost painful to watch.

But Time had to admit, she wasn’t going to give up anytime soon.

The summer passed by quickly. By the turn of autumn, the child was growing more and more out of their shell and Time was happy to see their progress. Wild had eventually won them over, although poor Warrior was still working on it on his end.

They were happy and things were calm.

That was until their base was attacked.

It was in the middle of the night and the boys were quick to awaken and fight back against the intruders. As soon as there was any push back whatsoever, the attackers fled the scene, hardly landing a scratch against them. Although there had to be at least a few gunshot wounds on the opposing side. Sky was quick to grab a weapon and fire a few… warning shots.

Time’s first concern was the child.

They had already been through violence. He wasn’t sure if they would be able to handle more.

As misfortune would have it, upon the very superficial investigation, the intruders were after the child.

Now that just pissed him off.

But that was nothing compared to the reaction of the woman he went to report it to. He’s actually quite glad that he took his nephew with him.

"I'll have my best people on guard in five minutes."

"Uh- m-ma'am, that isn't necessar-"

"Twilight." He shut his mouth in an instant. The Shadow Queen all but glares at the young man in question. "With all due respect: that is my child they're attacking. I am not having a repeat of what happened last time." She sends a text, then turns back to Time. "They'll be here in five minutes."

Time nods, as if expecting this. "I figured as much. Such is why I'm alerting you first thing. Let's go, Pup. We have to show our guests around."

"Wha-what?!" Twilight blinks double taking between the two adults. "Are you serious? Just like that? You're ok with this?"

Time raises a cool eyebrow. "Is there a problem?"

Twilight can see the subtle threat as it is and he settles down... begrudgingly. "No, sir."

"Then let's go."

To the credit of her men, they’re right on time. They’re quick to check all of the perimeter and any weak points and blindspots the base has. They start reinforcing the second the find anything of potential interest.

Four and Wind had stayed with the child as the strange men poked their noses through their house. Aryll was taking a few notes of the way Hesper was ordering around her men, watching her with great interest as well. The others were too busy trying to move around the men and keep all of their information secret. Not that the other group was doing much snooping. According to the grapevine, The Shadow Queen had formed an alliance with The Chain.

No one wanted to break the thinly lined trust.

The child however, notices that everyone was on edge. They tug on Wind's sleeve. "Is the scary lady staying? Why is she yelling?"

"She’s just really worried about you." He's quick to make her seem (hopefully) less scary. "Your safety is really important to her."

"Yeah." Four joins in, ruffling the child's hair. "She just wants to make sure the bad guys can't get you, kiddo."

The child listens closer, eventually picking up on the telltale stutter of an anxious heartbeat, almost hidden behind the fury.

"mmm..." The child grips their shirt and Wind's sleeve. "Does papa know about this?"

"Yeah, he knows. He's with her right now." Four tells them.

The child looks away, letting their ears do most of the work. "Legend and Warrior don't seem too happy about this though.... Is it because the scary lady scares them too?"

Wind and Four share a look.

"Uh... maybe, kiddo. She's pretty new to them too."

Hesper finishes giving orders, and the guards vanish. It's then that she allows herself a small sigh, a slight lax in her shoulders. "Alright. They have their instructions. I'll look into who might’ve ordered the attack as well."

She frowns, thinking as she looks out into the city. "I hate to think that... nevermind. ... Did I scare them?"

Time doesn't look her way as he inspects the 'damage'. "Who? My boys? Yes, but I had assumed that would be a given. It's not everyday The Night Mother leaves her den, let alone to bark orders at another, formerly claimed, rival."

"Oh. No, I mean..." She trails off, glancing towards Four and Wind, but it clicks. Last thing a mother wants is her child being scared of her. Especially when trying to rekindle a relationship.

Time knows this. She had asked the same question the first she visited. He was just trying to distract.

He sighs. "It takes time. They witnessed the murder of three people when we found them. You can't expect them to be trusting. It took us weeks. They still act guarded around Warrior and Wild. Although the latter seemed to have given them enough sweets to lower their guard. Give it time. They're a good kid."

“Right... right, sorry." Hesper looks away. "Patience... you'd think I'd be better at that. Not in this case, apparently."

"You're scared." Time says bluntly. "You're efficient and you're used to instant results."

He also looks away from her. "This is beyond your comfort zone. You're not in control and you don't like it. ...The kid can feel it. There's no harm in being honest with yourself."

(Said the biggest hypocrite.)

She chuckles a bit. "Vulnerability around the wrong people can risk everything in this line of work, Link. I was trained to be a book no one wants to read. As much as I want to, I don't know how to be honest."

"Would you consider your child to be 'the wrong person'?" Time asks point blank. "Even if you don't know, I suggest you start learning. The kid would know when you're lying."

Hesper's eyes widen as she realizes what she implied, and it's like a switch flips. The professional killer and businesswoman vanishes, leaving the nervous mother scrambling behind.

"I didn't mean that, I-! Oh, why would I even suggest that..." She tucks a stray strand of hair back, blows out a breath. "Alright, I see your point. ... Any advice on how to start?"

The switch flip shocks Time more than he's willing to let on. If he allowed himself to think it, she appears just as any mother would

It's a shame she could end them all in an instant.

But he sees the trust where it's placed. At this point he knows her child better than she does.

Time smiles. "Ask them questions. What's their favorite toy? Their favorite show? They've been trying to paint recently. Draw with them. With time, they'll feel better around you. Just don't take it to heart if the boys join in. It's the most excitement we've gotten in a long time, and they love them."

Not to mention it's been helping the kid feel more at ease. But he won't say that. No need to rub salt on the wound.

"Painting?" Hesper feels a memory stir in the back of her mind; she had always wanted to... she quickly pulls away from the memory before she can get lost in it, and smiles back. "I think I have a set of paints back home, actually. I'll have to bring them next time I come over... Thank you, Time, that helps a lot."

Time raises an eyebrow, trying to tease her gently. “Oh, are we back to that? And here I thought I heard you actually call me by my name?”

She pauses and he laughs a little. He won’t push her. She’s flustered enough. He nods, turning to her at last. "You're welcome and please do. Let me know if you need a room. I'm sure we can clear space."

"Ah- a room?" She laughs a little, looking... flushed? Interesting. Time doesn’t comment on that either. "You've done so much already, I don't want to impose. It's still your house."

Time chuckles. "Well it just so happens to be a very big house. It'll just be a play room of sorts. Neutral ground for the child."

He'd do anything to make sure they feel safe. Of course, they may need more furniture for it.

"Oh! In that case, I'd be happy to help with it! I can bring some things in... after I've asked what they'd want in one... it could be their dream playroom!" She pauses, smiling sheepishly. "I-if that's okay with you."

Time chuckles and allows the way she blushes at the sound to please him deep in his bones. It’s been a long time since he’s seen a woman blush as delicately as she does. He allows her to stay for longer than usual that night.

With their guard higher than usual, the boys still refuse to complain to their boss about the changes. The child doesn’t notice much of a difference as everyone gets into another change in their routines. They keep learning the little curriculum they have and the chain tries their hardest to keep things as normal as possible.

It grows increasingly harder the more they see Time and The Night Mother spend longer and longer talking to one another. However, they can tell that something is happening between the two of them, even if neither of them is going to say anything anytime soon.

Autumn turns colder and winter approaches. That’s when trouble decides to come back to bite them.

It’s on the further side of the border this time. Ganon and his band of no good ruffians are making claims against The Chain again. This is not something they’re unfamiliar with, but they’re going to have to be smarter about this than in the past. They can’t risk having trouble on their side so close to their home when they have the children to think about.

The Shadow Queen has had enough of their funny business. Apparently she’s had a few run-ins with the son of Calamity Ganon but refused to elaborate when Time asked.

Wild was furious.

Calamity Ganon was the whole reason his family was dead- and yet his son gets to live?

Time had to remind him that no matter how much he deserved and was willing to attack, Ganon was more powerful than they were and he gained his power for a reason. This was not the time for rash decisions. Even if he secretly agreed with Wild’s logic.

Hesper had taken a few hits too many and told them that she was going to fight the man anyway. She asked them to stay behind while she pushed him back enough to remind him that he wasn’t the only King Pin around.

She stopped visiting as often.

Time didn’t want to admit it but he had actually grown to miss her. Dare he say, he wanted her with him instead. But he has a duty to his boys, his little girl and the child she entrusted to him to keep safe.

He couldn’t risk joining in on the fight.

It was dark already when he heard it.

Time had already tucked the child to bed and was checking the locks on the doors when he heard a solid thunk just beyond the wooden frame.

The sound causes him to pause and hesitate.

He undoes the locks and steps outside, keeping his weapon out just in case and- “Hesper?”

Blood.

Lots of it.

She’s on the pavement and not moving.

Time drops his weapon and runs to her side. His heart is instantly pounding in his chest as he picks her up and brings her inside the base. He puts her in the spare room they’ve kept clean for unsuspecting visitors but it’s about to get very messy.

Time hurries and wakes up Hyrule and gets Warrior, the two most versed in first aid as he scrambles to get the needed equipment for her to be treated.

He’s furious.

His heart beats rapidly and furiously. His own blood rushes through his body at breakneck speeds. It’s the only thing he can hear right now aside from his breath.

He’s so angry.

Hesper could have been followed.

Hesper had just brought the war she so desperately wanted to keep away from her child right to their doorstep.

Hesper could have asked for help.

Time would have given her the assistance needed then.

He forces himself to slow down.

Didn’t he just admit to himself that he couldn’t take that kind of risk?

He tries to stay out of the room and out of the way of those who actually know how to help her. As luck would have it, most of the blood on her wasn’t her own. As luck would further have it, Warrior was in tune enough with this line of work that he asked the same questions Time had when she was lucid enough to speak.

She was not followed.

She had killed Ganon and the last of his goons. The territory was now up for grabs. Something Warrior had gladly taken note of.

Hesper hadn’t slept in days.

Time had taken note of that.

Lastly, when Hyrule asked about coming here instead of back to her own place, she mentioned wanting to tell the good news but felt tired. So tired. She was going to turn back so no one would be worried any more. They should rest easy.

She fell asleep soon after that.

Time growls but thanks the two boys for their help, asking them to keep quiet about her arrival and to merely go get some rest after their hard work.

Time finds that he can’t sleep that night.

In fact, Hesper stays asleep for a long time. Days pass. Time finds himself worrying more over her well being than the rest of the responsibilities that he has to take care of. He’s lucky that the boys can more than handle themselves. But the child-.... Her child. He had to think of what to tell them.

By the fourth night, Time finds himself sitting by his desk with his head in his hands. It’s been another sleepless night. Dawn breaks and Time can hear the door of the room opening. There’s a small thunk and a muted curse. After a faint pained hiss, he hears the same floor board that always creaked when stepped on wrong. A pause and then it creaks further, slower- as if trying to avoid the sound from happening at all.

Time gets up, keeping his walk as calm as possible as he goes to confront her. He can see Hesper get to the stairs and begin her descent despite her bandages and bruises. He doesn’t want to make things worse between them but there’s frost on the ground now and if she left now she would most likely get sick with her injuries. For some reason, that only gives him more incentive to keep her here.

"Going somewhere?" Time speaks from behind her. He's leaning against the wall, his arms are crossed and an eyebrow is raised.

He does not look happy.

Hesper winces, looking back very slowly.

She can see why the boys hate this look.

She looks back down, deeming silence the best course of action over the responses 'no' and 'I'm sorry'.

His glare only hardens. "I asked you a question."

Okay, not the best course of action. "No..."

"Incredible." Time gets off of the wall, still glaring. "Going nowhere and yet you're out of bed and sneaking around my house like some rebellious teenager."

He begins to walk toward Hesper with purpose. "Get back there. Now. We need to talk, since you're finally lucid."

In a panic, she scrambles back up onto the bed as best as she can, squeaking in surprise when Time effortlessly hoists her up the rest of the way.

She has not genuinely feared the outcome of a conversation in a while, but this one definitely scared her the most.

Time keeps his arms by her sides, caging her in. He lowers his voice to a whisper, but he's obviously livid.

"What the hell were you thinking?" He hisses.

"I-" I wanted to see you. Oh no, she can't say that. She knows better than to say that. But what else can she say?? "I-I was going to do a quick check and leave-"

"Leave?!"

Time pushes himself away from her to pace the room. He makes a rash circle before coming back to the previous position. His hands grip the bed sheet until his knuckles turn white.

"What do you expect me to tell your child then?" Something in his eyes turns sharp and desperate. Like an animal. "Or Twilight. Or Wild. Or Hyrule. Or Warrior. Or Legend. Or Sky. Or Four. Or Wind."

He gulps, almost pushing himself into her face but holding back. "What were you thinking?! You could have died."

I could have lost you, sits on the tip of his tongue. But it's too soon. Too raw.

Blood on his hands- Ganon's, hers- haunts him.

He hasn't been able to sleep this entire time.

"... I'm sorry." There’s a line down one cheek, then the other. She takes a breath that hurts for too many reasons. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't... I wasn't..."

She hadn’t cried since her husband died.

Time's face crumples and his impossibly tight grip grows tighter.

He hangs his head and takes a deep breath. As he lets it go his whole body relaxes. Not looking up, Time reaches for her hand and gently, slowly, hesitantly, laces their fingers together.

"You scared me." Time admits. "Don't do it again."

Hesper sniffles, wiping at her eyes with her free hand (the one laced with his unconsciously squeezes it). "I know... I'm sorry..."

"...You've been unconscious for days." Time's voice wavers slightly. His grip on her hand also tightens- albeit more gently than how he gripped the bed sheets. It's tender.

"Everybody's been worried sick."

He crumples fully. Finally,

His head lands on her lap.

"The child asks for you. They know you're here. They ask me 'papa, when can I see mama? When is mama gonna wake up?' and I can't answer them."

He makes no movement for breathing, but her knee starts to feel cold and wet. "What was I supposed to tell them?"

A hand brushes through his hair after a moment. Gently and methodically untangling the knots, rubbing his shoulder.

"... You sacrifice a lot for them... no wonder they all love you so much." I love you too. Hesper sniffles quietly, smiling a little. "You should rest, Time. I can take it from here."

"....You're more insane than I thought." He mutters.

He lifts his head up, ignoring the tears running down his face. No one has seen him cry. He also hasn't cried in years.

"If you failed to notice, you were hardly capable of staggering out of the room. Let alone taking it over." He stands and wipes his face. "I'll send one of the boys up...and the child...It's ...only fair..."

He sniffles, fixing his face.

"You'll be taken care of here, I promise."

He leans in, caging her in gently once more before he pauses.

What was he about to do?

Time blinks, unsure of himself suddenly, uncharacteristically.

"I'll... go get them.."

"... Right." She nods, looking down. She lets his fingers slip away from hers slowly, then suddenly grabs his hand again before he can leave.

"... Hesper?"

She feels her heart flutter. She likes hearing him say her name.

"Promise... promise me you'll rest afterwards. Please." She asks softly, timidly... but she doesn't think it's the soft mom side of her talking. Or the assassin.

Time's eyes also soften.

In a fluid motion, he adjusts her grip, bringing her hand up to leave a kiss on her knuckles. "Yes, My Queen."

He looks up with a subtle wink, and lets her hand go.

He has to tell Wild to make food and for Twilight to bring the child and for Legend to find Hesper some clothes to change into. And he has to make sure that the budgets are in order and that the defense system is running...

Then rest. Maybe.

The child comes running to him a few (many) hours after he sends them up to Hesper with Twilight.

"Mama says it's bedtime for you, Papa." They find his shirt and tug on it. "You promised."

Time blinks, swaying slightly as he bends to pat the child on the head. "Is that so?"

He feels so tired.

"Did you talk to mama?"

"Mmhm! She was too tired to play tag, so we painted and talked for a while before she had to sleep again. She told me to make you go to bed too because she knew you were still up." The child takes his hand now, tugging insistently. "Come on, Papa, you have to sleep."

Time chuckles quietly and lets the child lead him through the house. It’s only when he realizes that the child begins to lead him to Hesper’s room that he digs his heels in. "Bubba, she's still hurt. I could make it worse by accident. It's better if I sleep in my own bed."

"Oh... but she wanted to see you. She asked Twilight about you."

Time winces, unknowingly letting his emotions betray him.

"Um... but..."

He can't think of a reason to not go.

The child grins and takes the queue to keep dragging him into the room where their mother is sleeping. Time smiles at the sight. It appears a little someone had tucked a teddy bear under her arm. The small child feels around for the bed before they begin to climb in. Time sighs, picking the child up. "Bubba- you should go to sleep too. I don't think there's enough room for all of us."

"Aw, okay. Maybe next time we can snuggle." The child pouts a bit, but accepts it.

Time chuckles, carrying the child away and to their room. "It's past your bedtime anyway, bubba. We'll see how mama's doing tomorrow."

And not because he nearly kissed her earlier and held her hand, twice. He was the one to clean her up and bring her in. He wants her recovery to be as perfect as possible.

Unbeknownst to the two of them, Hesper had been awake enough to hear them both. She finds herself lost in her thoughts afterwards.

Mother never believed in getting attached.

She had trained Hesper to plan, to sneak, to kill, to run a business, to run from the law.

And yet Mother forgot the most important lessons.

What are you supposed to do when you get attached?

Knowing her, she would say cut your losses. Get rid of your feelings before they grow out of control.

Well, too late for that one.

Hesper sighed at the ceiling, still holding onto the stuffed bear from her baby.

Family was one thing. She would never regret that attachment.

... But what about a lover? She knew the sting of losing one; she couldn't bear it a second time.

Not with someone so wonderful. So powerful.

So utterly terrifying.

It was too late to leave Time... she'd already tried. It might’ve been the biggest mistake of her life. It would've meant so much more than leaving a person, it would be abandoning her child again, abandoning the humanity she just found.

... Why did she even try to leave? Was she afraid? Afraid of attachment, admitting weakness?

... Afraid of Time?

She shook her head, even if she was the one who asked. She wasn't afraid of him. She loved him. Time meant so much to her. Everyone in this house did.

... This house was her Achilles Heel.

... She should leave. For their safety.

Hesper grips the bedsheets. If she grips hard enough, she can feel Time's warmth there still.

A warmth she couldn’t bear to leave.

In the other room, Time sets the child to rest, finally. Three bedtime stories later and two lullabies and they fell asleep. Their chest expands and deflates with every deep breath.

He sighs.

He's so tired.

Time leaves the room, softly shutting the door and banking to the left. He's not entirely sure why, but he's heading back.

He has to see her. He has to know that she's ok. That she really did wake up.

He doesn't bother knocking.

He grabs the door knob and turns it quietly, in case she's asleep and opens it.

His heart is pounding in his chest and he feels as if he could throw up at any minute.

Is she gone? Is she still there? Is she hurting? Is she dead?

He can feel himself spiraling.

He's just there to check, he tells himself. Nothing more, nothing less.

Hesper looks up from the bear in her lap.

"... You're still awake?" It comes out much softer than anticipated.

Time blinks, sagging from the release of his anxiety.

"I could ask the same to you." He replies just as softly. "The child said you were sleeping."

"I was. Just woke up." She watches him a moment, then moves over, patting the now open space on the bed. "Come lay down. You need to sleep."

Time's eyes soften as he moves into the room. "You're still injured. I doubt that's wise."

He bends next to the bed, resting his arms over it. "How're you feeling?"

"A lot better, but I don’t feel like trying to walk at this time of night." Hesper rests against the headboard. "How are you feeling?"

Time hums. "Better, now that you're here."

He blinks. That was more honest than he was intending.

"A bit tired, but nothing a good nap won't fix."

He doesn't want to be checking her out, but he can't help the way his eyes fitter over the injures he knows are under the blankets.

"The child is asleep now." He tells her. "Took longer than usual."

Hesper chuckles softly. "I think they know how tired we are. Before I fell asleep, they suddenly stopped painting and insisted I go to bed. Tucked me in and everything."

Time snorts, resting his head on his arms. "They do the same to Warrior and Legend. They always seem to know. I see you have Charlie with you... They love that bear. It was the first one we got for them. Although Mr. Wiggles is their ultimate favorite."

"Charlie, huh?" Hesper admires the bear with a gentle smile. "Well, it’s nice to meet you, Charlie. You almost look like the blue bear I got them as a baby... could never get them to let it go."

Time chuckles, smiling softer. "Really now?"

This is cute. Time finds his eyes closing.

"They must have been a cute baby."

"Cutest in the world..." Hesper looks over. She can tell he's falling asleep. "... Come to bed. Please?”

Time doesn't even register that she speaks.

He reaches for her hand and promptly passes out.

Hesper snorts softly, taking his hand.

"That's going to hurt tomorrow." She squeezes his hand. "Sleep well, Time."

She stays awake a little longer, watching Time as he sleeps. Eventually, he turns, falling off of his seat and straight to the floor. Hesper laughs and finds herself relaxed enough to fall asleep again at last.

Hesper wakes up first and finds that Time is still on the floor of the room. She can’t help but laugh again at his expense. The sound wakes him up.

"Sleep well?" She’s in a teasing mood this morning. And doing terribly at stifling her laughter.

Time sits up slowly, running an internal diagnostic check.

Everything seems to be functioning. No pain outside of what he's used to. No hangover or side effects that he can recognize.

He turns to Hesper.

"Well...this is certainly one of the better places I've woken up face flat in."

He sent a dashing smile. "Good morning gorgeous."

She giggles, ducking partially against the bed. "Good morning, handsome. Suppose the floor is better than propped up against the bed. I feared for your back."

Time grunts, twisting so that his entire spine can pop like rock candy. "I've dealt with worse. Better bent over-"

You know what. He's not going to finish that sentence. He forgot he's in "polite" company. "What about you? Sleep well? Have any pain?"

Hesper hums. "No, no pain. Have some energy back, too. Given my track record for healing, I wouldn’t be surprised if I was up and walking again soon."

Time smiles genuinely. "Good. ...Good! That's great!"

"What about you? Feeling a little better after your nap?" Hesper chuckles, brushing hair from his face.

Time tilts his head into her touch. "I always feel better when I'm around you."

He smiles and gets up. "I'll get your food. I'll be right back."

"Okay. I'll be waiting." Hesper smiles as he leaves... then realization hits like a bucket of ice water.

Were they flirting? Is that okay??

She shakes her head. No way. They're just being playful. He couldn’t possibly-

Time leaves the room, feeling giddy for the first time since he was a boy.

Wild is already up, plates of food on the table, waiting to be claimed by whoever wakes up first.

"Good morning." Time takes two plates without hesitation. "Any updates on the matter of-"

"None that I'm aware of." Wild flips more food onto the next plate. "Who died that made you so happy?"

"No one." Time shrugs. "Hesper is recovering."

"....Is that all?:

"She called me handsome." Time turns on his heel to go back. "I'll let you know if there's any need for updates."

"Yessir."

Time returns to the scene of Hesper talking softly with her baby.

"Hm? Oh look, Papa's back." Hesper grinned.

"Morning, Papa!" The child waved, Hesper gently nudging them so they waved at him and not the wall.

Time can feel his heart swell at the sight.

"I brought breakfast." Time rotates the plates, handing one to Hesper as he sits on the bed.

"Thank you, Time." She smiles and takes the plate. She proceeds to share it with her child, who doesn't need to know there's only two plates.

"Does papa have food?" They ask before they take a bite.

"Yes, bubba. I have food." Time chuckles quietly.

"Eat as much as you like." Hesper encourages the child as she feeds them another bite.

They smile, eating happily.

Time eats silently, watching Hesper be a mother after so long of having to figure it out on the fly.

He finishes and puts the plate on his lap.

"Oh? All finished?"

"Mmhm!" The child hops off the bed. "I'm gonna go play with Wind, he's gonna teach me how to fly a kite!"

"Aw, a kite?" Hesper smiles. "You'll have to teach me how to get better."

"Okay, Mama!" And with that, they run out of the room, leaving the two adults alone.

Time smiles, nudging Hesper with his knee. "Your turn. Eat."

He's already done with his food.

"I am, I am." Hesper chuckles as she eats. "And before you scold me about the portion, I don't eat much on injuries. Can't stomach as much, for some reason."

Time raises an eyebrow. "I wasn't going to say too much. Having not eaten in three days can stretch out your stomach significantly when you do. I wasn't expecting you to eat much anyway. As long as you eat something."

"... Oh." Hesper blinks, clearly not expecting that one. Stunned by his calm (and intelligence), she finishes her meal quietly and wills herself not to blush.

Time takes her plate without any other comment. "I'm sure it's boring being on bed rest but unfortunately, there's little I can personally do to remedy that. The best I can do is get the boys to move you to the play room. I'm sure the child would be more than happy to spend the day with you. They've been wanting your attention for a while now."

Her eyes go soft on him. "Really? You already do so much, I don't want to strain you boys too much..."

But he already knows she'd love that more than anything.

Time snorts. "I've never been shy about putting them to work- but I don't think they'd complain as much if it has to do with you."

He winks, already taking out his phone. "I'll be back later and they'll be here in a jiffy."

Hesper giggles at that one. "Alright. Thank you, Time."

He smiles and leaves, intending to get to work without further delay.

Within minutes, Sky, Twilight and Warrior appear by the door.

"Good morning! Glad to see you awake, at last."

"Glad to be awake." Hesper chuckles. "I hear we're going to the playroom."

"That's correct." Warrior nods. "Ready when you are."

"Think I'm as ready as I can be."

Warrior and Twilight nod. They each move to the side, picking her up. Sky moves to support her back while the other two hold her up as she sits on their shoulders.

"Onward!"

Hesper helps as much as she can to get herself carried over to the playroom, but she can't help but joke about feeling special. Soon enough, she's settled in the playroom, and she thanks the three boys for their troubles.

It's at about this time that the child rushes in, leaves and twigs tangled in their hair.

"Oh, bubba, you have a few things stuck in your hair." Hesper chuckles. "Can I help you get them out?"

"Mama? Can you walk??"

"No, the boys brought me over so we could play."

"Oh! Yeah, I wanna play!"

"Can I help you with your hair first?"

"Sure, lemme get my brush!"

That was later in the autumn. Eventually Hesper got better and returned to her own house. It dawned on Time that the child they shared should have gone to her house by now but neither made an effort to correct the issue. Hesper was in no way healed enough to take care of the child 24/7 and she had yet to bring it up either.

By the time Hespered remembered the second half of the deal they made back in early summer, she had a new problem to deal with.

She was on her way to her scheduled appointment at the Chain Base, ready to chew Time out when her foot bumped something. A baby. On her doorstep.

There was a note on the top of the little baby’s chest.

For some reason, Hesper already gathered that this was her mother’s doing.

Hesper picked up the baby right away, regardless of potential risk. His face twisted as if he was crying, fat tears ran down his cheeks... but he made no sound. Not a single peep.

She bounced him gently as she brought him inside, nudging the door shut with her foot. The poor boy was freezing. How long had he been out there? He could've died-

She heard the church of paper. Tucked in his swaddle was a note. She shifted him to one arm, opened the note with her free hand.

He is of no use to me. Perhaps you will find use for him in that little waste of time you call a family.

... She crumpled the note in her fist, knuckles turning white.

She'd never wanted to kill her mother before.

She was lucky the baby came first.

She calls Time and says she's going to be late

"Late? Why?"

"... My mother left me a present."

Hesper wasn’t about to disappear on her own baby though, and decided that after the two year old was fed, washed and properly warmed, she would still go visit. And maybe ask for some help. Again.

Hesper knocked on the door, texting Time to come out alone. He does so, no questions asked. Hesper doesn’t have the forethought to think through that level of trust.

Time stares for a minute before he speaks. "You know.... I'm sure your mother would have said something first if she wanted grandchildren so badly... I didn't think we were moving that slowly."

The little boy stares at him curiously, blue eyes wide and bright.

"Better us than a woman who'd leave him in the cold for... who knows how long." Hesper cradles his head close to her chest. He smiles and nuzzles it. "He's mute. I didn't even know he was out there until I opened the door. I hope he doesn't get sick."

Time flexes his jaw and nods. "Wild can get the kid some warm milk. I'll see about running to the store for emergency supplies. Food, diapers, blankets and maybe a car seat. We can figure out the rest later."

"Thank you." Hesper looks down at him again. He's taken to looking around again, taking in the strange new world around him. "... I was thinking his name should be Sol. His smile is so bright."

"And here I was thinking it was for the bright blond baby hair he's sporting." Time chuckles, leaning over to run his hand over the baby's head.

Time grabs his keys, instantly texting a message on his phone. "I'll be back. Make yourself comfortable. Wild should be working on the food as we speak. I'll get the boys to make a list of other items we'd need."

He heads to his car, unlocking and opening it without missing a beat. "We'll take care of him."

Sol reaches towards Time, clenching and unclenching his little fist.

"Yeah, that's Time." Hesper whispers to him with a smile. "He's the papa here. He's such a sweetheart~"

"Hesper?" Sky asks as he opens the door. "Are you ok? I've never seen Time leave in such a rush."

Sol and Sky meet eyes at the same time. Sol offers a toothy grin, while Hesper offers a sheepish smile.

"I'm fine... Sky, meet Sol."

Sky's jaw drops and it's visible, the way he scrambles to form a coherent thought. "...Congratulations."

He clears his throat and opens the door wider. "I wasn't aware you were expecting.... like at all..... whose child is that?"

He tries to backtrack. "Not that it wouldn't be yours... or that there's multiple possibilities of fathers- it's just you were here last week... and you visit regularly and nothing was ever mentioned-"

Help him, he's rambling.

Hesper covers his mouth, chuckling. "He's my brother, Sky. Not my son. But I'm taking charge of him now. Does that help?"

Sky's mouth shuts with a soft click and he nods. "Yes....It does. ....Do you want to come in?"

"Yes, please." Hesper chuckles, finally stepping into the house.

Sky coughs and lets her in. He lifts his hand to his mouth and calls out. "Her royal highness has arrived!"

"HESPER!" Wind calls out from beyond the house. Multiple footsteps follow suit. The patter against the hardwood. "Good morning Your Majesty!"

Hesper laughs. "Good morning! I brought my little brother today, hope you don't mind!"

Sol merely grins at the sudden multiplication of boys, waving and bouncing in Hesper's arms.

The boys cheer as they come to say their greetings.

Twilight shakes his head. "Does he need anything immediate?"

"No, I have it covered." Hesper chuckles as Sol wiggles around. "I think he might want to play, though."

"How little is Mama's brother?" The blind child asks and Hesper crouches down.

"Littler than you, bubba." Hesper guides the child's hand to Sol's, and they gasp as his little fingers grasp theirs.

"Is he a baby?" At Hesper's confirmation, her baby gets excited. "Baby brother! Let's go play!!"

By the time Time returns, he finds all of his boys crowded around the woman and infant as they all try to get the baby to laugh. It is clear that while the baby smiles widely, he makes no sound.

When the commotion dies down and little Sol has enough to keep him steady for a week or two, Time gets the answers to the questions he didn’t ask earlier as Hesper explains all that she knows.

They talk for hours.

It’s a long time before either of them realizes what time it is.

It’s decided to revisit the earlier and let the blind child stay with Time and his boys for a little longer while Hesper tries to get her life together with her little brother in her own house.

It begins to snow outside.

Hesper stays the night.

No one’s sure when it happens but Hesper has fully integrated herself into their dynamic and she comes over nearly everyday.

They have a party for new years and naturally, she’s invited.

Most of the boys take to entertaining the children as they time counts down. The older ones, including Hesper, open the wine cabinet for a glass or two. Or more. Much more.

Time and Hesper have ended up on the bed next to each other as the clock slowly ticks down, neither caring much about the commotion happening down below as the boys no doubt begin to rough house. It’s nice actually.

A bit loud- but it’s family.

….This is they’re family.

They're talking, laughing, and then they're closer than they should be, being openly soft and vulnerable.

It slips out of Hesper first. She didn't mean to say it.

"I think I love you, Time."

Time abruptly stops laughing, staring at her for a moment.

He just stares. No more laughter. No reaction.

A hand comes up to stop her from leaving if she gets up. Slowly, it moves to cup her cheek. "Do you mean that?"

She can't help it; she holds his hand there with her own. It's so warm, so right, even as she worries she may have ruined their relationship. "... Every word but 'think'."

"Outstanding." Time runs his thumb over her cheek. "I would have said the same thing."

Hesper pauses, the train of acceptance derailed. She was the one staring now, at his eyes, his smile. "... Really?"

Time grins. It's boyish and uncaring. "Yes, really. Darling, you're stunning."

She laughs, a melody he thinks only he's ever heard. "What does that mean?"

Time scoots a little bit closer. "I see you... and I'm awestruck...star struck even. I forget to breathe. I forget to think. I forget myself. Everything in that moment is you. Only you. And your beauty, your wit, your talent. You are breathtaking."

They're close all over again, but it's intentional now. Maybe they're even closer than before. Hesper chuckles softly as she tries to find the words to reply, forehead coming to rest against his. "I'd argue you're the breathtaking one here. And the witty one. Somehow you know just what to say to leave me speechless. And... it's a wonderful feeling. ... You’re wonderful, Time."

Hesper wasn’t sure who leaned forward first. All she really knew is after a moment of resting her forehead there, staring into those brilliant blue eyes, she had glanced down, and then their lips connected.

It was soft. Short, simple, and sweet. Hesper almost couldn't believe it had happened, if not for the warmth it left behind. Slowly, one became two, and two became three, each one just a little longer than the last. Just another moment. Just a little deeper. Just a little sweeter.

Because all the time in the world just wasn't enough.

"Happy New Year, Mama!" Hesper’s baby exclaimed into the moment, running over to the pair. Hesper chuckled softly, reaching down to ruffle her child's hair.

"Happy New Year, My Darling."

Time thinks he might be drunk. But he's not sure if it's from the liquor or the kisses. He sits up and picks up the child. "Come 'ere you!"

Only to mercilessly tickle them.

"Happy new year bubba."

"Happy New Year, Papa." The child giggles, getting cozy between the two. Soon Sol has joined the party, clambering into their laps and pointing at the pretty lights hanging everywhere.

'Stars!' He signs with a grin.

"They do look like stars, huh Sol?" Hesper chuckles, kissing his head. "Good eye~"

Time snorts. "Yes, that's true. They do look like stars."

He's looks at Hesper though- trying to get a glimpse of her eyes once more.

He's not thinking straight. Something is telling him to leave- the vulnerability is dangerous. She is the Shadow Queen. The Night Mother. She can end his whole empire with a single stroke of her finger...

And yet he kissed her. He wants to kiss her again. He wants to never stop kissing her.

Her eyes are sparkling in the lights, warm and stunning as ever. She watches her kids run off again as Wind mentions sparklers and fireworks, and nods at Twilight as he goes to supervise.

And then she's looking at him again. How could this woman be the Night Queen? It just didn't fit.

"Interested in the fireworks?" She smiles, and the lights in her eyes dare to shine a little brighter for him.

"You could say that." Time smiles and holds out his arm. "Care to join me?"

"I'd be delighted." Hesper grins, taking his arm as they go outside.

Time's smile seems to widen as he leads her through his house.

The boys are busy shooting firecrackers and sparklers and getting the children to join in the fun. Sol runs around wildly with two sparklers, chased by Four who also has two. Both spot Time and Hesper at the same time and run over to offer them one of their sparklers.

"Oh, for me? Thank you, Four." Hesper chuckles, taking the sparkler.

"No problem."

Sol grins, bouncing a little as he extends his sparkler to Time.

Time nods, taking it gently. "Thank you, Sol. Go play."

He ruffles his hair and pats his shoulder to send him off. He stands and waves the sparkler through the air. He makes a heart and strikes a line through it. Like an arrow.

Hesper giggles from his side and makes a heart with their initials in the middle, like she's a schoolgirl doodling in her notebook. She follows it up with several tiny hearts.

"Now all that's missing is a stick figure wedding." She jokes.

Time wraps his arm around her hips, pulling her flush against his body. He presses his ear next to her ear. “Or we can just have the real thing.”

Hesper’s heart starts beating rapidly. She turns to him, not sure if it’s her heart or the liquor that does the talking but she kisses him again. “I’d like that.”

Time smirks and kisses her back, dropping his sparkler in the process. He can’t help it.

Behind them, back in the house, the clock strikes midnight, the beginning of the new year- and their new lives.

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #blind child #mafia! chain #modern au

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mar3ggiata · 17 hours

Text

professional help, c9. Reign of Terror.

simon riley x original character.

trigger warnings: violence, sexual assault, mentions of rape, trauma, sexual themes, swearing, use of alcohol and drugs.

song to listen to when reading this: Cool about it, boygenious

abstract: listen, I don't even want to hear it. yes, it's Simon. I told you already, I'm gathering intel during this part. don't think too hard about it, this doesn't mean anything. and yes, I think she was telling the truth. I follow my instincts and they only failed me once or twice…

When the routine settled back in, she felt like the Al-Jareena mission was a thing of the past. A week had gone by, she had no news about the mission. Or Arash. She was snapping her fingers following the rhythm of the music. 'And one, two, balancé!' She watched as the girls rehearsed in front of her, moving in pairs, one from each side of the room. They had been going on and on for an hour, the poor girls were exhausted. 'Okay, from here, piquè', she had been demonstrating everything, trying to remember her notes and the changes she had to make to the original choreography. Her blue leotard was sticking on her skin, she could feel sweat dripping down her back and in between her breasts. Her bun was starting to come untied, she kept fixing some shorter hair behind her ears. 'I don't want to see those stiff hands Jenny, please', she resumed, 'piquè, finish on your right leg. Sam and Gemma, you're going to go stage left with two saut de basque'. She stopped talking to demonstrate the jump, which was quite difficult, she had to admit. 'You finish on relevè, arms in fifth position, then repeat to the other side'. She was too old for all this activity, (Jude is delusional, she's 26). She had to catch her breath without letting the girls know she was getting tired. 'Then, Kyla, Cassie and Luna, same thing to the right as soon as the first two finish jumping, same thing to the left with group three.' She instructed and approached the mirrors in the front of the room. 'Let's see it, please'.

She packed her bag while the girls said bye to her. God, did she love being called 'Miss Alba'. She put on sweats, lifting them up over her legs without bothering to remove the pink tights she hated so much. She preferred black ones, they concealed stretch marks, cellulite… See, if the school was hers, she would let her ballerinas pick the colour they wanted. She could see during the lessons some of them were self conscious about their bodies, like she had been for years when she was younger. The way they looked at each other in the mirrors, like they were comparing themselves to the others. Some were thinner, some had bigger bums, bigger breasts, some had more muscle, some you could see their whole ribcage sticking out. School policy, black leotard and pink thighs. They were too young. But still, even Alba herself had some serious issues with her figure, demonstrating in front of everyone was challenging and took a tool on her mental health sometimes. She knew she was fit, don't get me wrong, she had worked fucking hard for years to get to where she was. Strong, lean quads, a good set of abs. She had followed every diet in the world, she learned so much about what foods not to eat, how to get the perfect body… How to be slim and toned and have fat in the right places. She gained back weight after the 'bad year' when she didn't work and decided she was not gonna feed herself anymore. Cooking was just too much back then, she spent hours going on walks with headphones in, on the verge of passing out. She was better now, she only had those thoughts every now and then. They were under control, she was healthy. Let me tell you, her legs, arms, her hips, a fucking work of art. Still, being watched by those young girls who probably spent way too much worrying about their weight and having to be the representation of perfection was daunting. Keep your abs thigh, your foot straight, your hips aligned. Hide how painful it is, hide the fact your calf is cramping and you're losing balance. A game of pretend.

When she got to work the next day, she was surprised to see a special someone waiting for her beside her door. No fucking way. She stopped in her tracks when he saw him, bag hanging from her shoulder, boots clicking on the floor. What are you doing here, how do you know this is my office? Did you ask around? Are you following me? She approached him and he took a step towards her. He had a blue jacket on, no skull mask today, simple black one. She could finally see his hair colour, dirty blonde. He needed a trim. 'Can I help you?' she said. Well well well. 'Not really' he replied, crossing his arms against his chest. He was tall, he was scarily tall. She had to tilt her head to look at him. That position made his arms look even bigger. She no problem admitting how good looking he was. 'Am I in trouble?' she asked tilting her head to the side. His mask moved slightly, but his eyes didn't exactly show a particular emotion. Was he smiling or about to punch her, she didn't know. She had always loved risks. 'You're not' he answered. He wasn't in the mood for jokes maybe. Noted.

She nodded and took a step towards the office door unlocking it and getting in, supposing he would follow. Being in there made her feel slightly more secure. It was a place where she normally had some authority. Not with him she didn't. He closed the door behind him as she put her bag on the desk. The office had two big windows which let in few shy rays of sunshine. She had a couch with a few pillows for the patients and a chair for her. She looked at him and indicated the couch, as to say 'sit'. He really didn't want to. He felt like a patient. He went to therapy before, he just didn't want to be her patient. He stood there in the middle of the room watching Jude take off her coat and hang it on the chair. She wore jeans today. Tight jeans and a jumper. He could see her boots clearer now, they were shiny and the tip of the shoe was round. They looked from the 80's. She had cream coloured socks. She looked younger dressed like that. She looked less professional and more… a civilian, a normal 23 year old girl. He had settled that was her age. Her hair loose, her casual outfit, she looked ready for a walk in the park. He wondered if she walked in the park with her dog. She looked like she had a normal job, like waitressing or maybe she was a painter or a student. She looked like she could go to the movies dressed like that, or play bowling. She looked like she was about to sit down, take her shoes off, get comfortable and tell him about her day, talk about nothing for hours without ever boring him.

She finally spoke, sitting down in her leather chair. 'Why are you here?' she asked, her hands on her thighs. 'You can sit if you want', she added. He still wouldn't move. 'I wanted to apologise for asking about last year, I realised it might be a sensitive topic'. His voice was low and soothing, his British accent heavy on every word. She didn't expect that. That was very considerate of him, the 6 foot soldier standing in the middle of her office like the representation of death that comes knocking at your door. What a strange thing to say man, did you hear stories? Did you hear your friends say I faked it? Cause I know they're saying it. 'Thanks', she said softly, a tone she had never used with him. She tried not to get triggered by his words, not to let her mind wonder back to the event he was referring to. She had to fight hard to not let her brain spiral, a fight against herself. She always seemed to lose. 'It's just something really bad, I don't like to think about it more than I already do', she explained. His eyes were fixated on her like she was a wild animal about to go extinct. He nodded and silence filled the room.

'How did the mission go?' She asked even if she already knew the answer. She was just making conversation. He didn't want to stay too much. He thought about seeing her, he thought about talking to her again and now that she was there, now that he purposely went to her office to talk, he wanted to run. 'Good. Good, yeah, thanks to you, actually'. He finally sat down. That was what patients saw then. The desk behind her, the windows and her, on the leather chair. He tried to imagine her during sessions. Her back straight, compassionate eyes, maybe a notebook on her lap. The window on her right illuminated only half of her face. Making her half an angel. She wasn't commenting on his answer, she squinted her eyes. 'Are you saying I was right and you were wrong?' she asked. Cheeky. She wasn't smiling, cause she knew she was right all along. 'I'm saying you got lucky.' She made him weak, his mouth was dry. 'So what are you gonna do next? I might get lucky again', she said. Could he tell her? She already knew so much. He decided he could share, vague answers only. 'We find where they took Khorram, we'll probably find Arash as well. We leave in a week.' She kept biting her lower lip, not in a provocative way. She was thinking. 'What did he do exactly? He's the one with that snake flag right?' she asked. She was informed. She had seen the flag she was referring to on the news and on social media. It was a green flag with a snake print, with red eyes. A symbol. 'The viper, yes. We've been following him for some time. Human trafficking, mainly.' Her expression was of disgust. 'He formed an army, he controls the main cities, he lets people starve, public executions…' he decided to stop there. She nodded, she got the gist. 'Makes sense…' she murmured. 'Reign of Terror kinda thing.' There was silence again between them.

'Reign…' he felt bad that he didn't know what she was talking about. He didn't have a degree. Jude had probably 4 or 5. But no, he wasn't that cultured. It made him feel small. Guns and war, he was the best. It was the second time he didn't know what she was talking about, she said something about a Little King or some shit. (It was the Little Price, the book). 'French Revolution, doesn't matter', she cut him off. Don't make me feel stupid Jude. He got up saying he better be going, she did too, she said 'of course'. She offered him her hand to shake. You're Italian, he decided. The hand gestures, the physical touch. Yes, to Simon shaking your hand twice was considered physical touch. She wasn't British, she was too polite and beautiful for it. How do you speak English so well then. What made you come here? What's your real name something Italian like Julia or Sarah? He reached for her hand, glad he was wearing gloves this time so he couldn't feel her skin. Less of her to think about. She looked at him, then looked down to their hands, still holding it. Her soft, caramel skin, with those dainty black nails against his skeleton printed gloves. She turned his hand so she could see the skeleton print and smiled, with her head tilted down. A smirk. She had dimples. Her eyelashes were almost touching her eyebrows. He let go of her hand and turned around, regretting he didn't wear his other mask. Would have hidden the fact that he was blushing.

notes: I was listening to 'cool about it' by boygenius when writing this. also, writing ballet is fucking hard… how do I describe the pain. also also, Jude's shoes are those chunky coquette Mary Jane shoes that you wear with socks.

notes: Julia and Sarah are not correct spellings of Italian names, more on the American side. makes sense Simon doesn't know how to spell the Italian versions. (they are Giulia and Sara). How are you guys doing, you all good? You guessed it I'm still taking my exams and working and being clinically insane and unbelievably tired.

love, mare.

taglist:

@ummmmmwat @ghostlythots @sweetfemmefatal @natxpat @chavarriakeren647 @ravenmoore14 @farther-than-pleiades @internallyscreamings @hwromi @atoxicrat @cuti3maddi3 @deafeningkittenblaze @its-celeste @serene-hills @lexidoll12 @poohkie90 @lunatiquess

@warmedbythebody @katzykat @iristhemuse @azkza @keiraslayz @abbyandermine @jennyjencakes @dest-nai @corset-briefs @nutze-kekse @ilytsukiw @b3anspr0ut

@pondsblog @missyouzoe @fallenkitten @bigauthorrascalturkey @bethtay @angelynn-nicole @starluv @stargirlisworld @giyuuslittleslut @impossiblecupcakelight

@rkrivees-blog @ghosts-hoe @kam1snotverysmart @gauky76 @freyjaaasstuff @spicyspicyliving @scottpilgrimvsmyfists @courtney0-0 @shinchanboi @darling006 @my-therapist-hates-me

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inawickedlittletown · 21 hours

Text

You Can Find Me Where the Skies are Blue (BuckTommy fic) - 7/7

Summary:

Soulmates are rare. So rare that it's actually incredible that Buck has two soulmate couples in his life. Statistics tell him it's very unlikely for him to meet his soulmate. Of course, then he meets Tommy. Too bad it happens at the worst possible moment.

Canon compliant soulmate AU where Buck is still a mess and Tommy is still very understanding.

Words: 6,258

Rating: M (this applies to part of this chapter only...I've put *** around the section)

Ao3

Part One - Part Two - Part Three

Part Four - Part Five - Part Six

Part Seven

“So, tell me about your couch,” Tommy said.

Evan set his cup of coffee down after a sip. “I told you about Ali,” Evan said.

Tommy nodded. “Your ex…the one that picked out your apartment.”

Evan nodded.

“Did she also pick out your furniture and forget to get a couch?” Tommy asked, tilting his head to the side as a sign that he was mostly trying to be funny.

Evan rolled his eyes. “She did help pick most of it out. I did need the help. It was my first real apartment and I had no idea what I was doing. She did pick out a very nice couch. It was very comfortable.”

Tommy had more questions because there was so much that Evan wasn’t filling in and he didn’t know what to ask first. Instead, he let Evan continue.

“I spent a lot of time on that couch after she broke up with me,” Evan said. “The reality of my job hit her pretty hard. And I hated my place…I thought about moving, but that would have been harder. Those stairs do not mix well with a cast.”

“A cast?” Tommy asked.

He immediately hated the idea of Evan hurt. It came with the territory though. Tommy had had his own share of injuries over the years, more so when he was a firefighter than a pilot, but they still did happen.

Buck nodded. “I, uh, I don’t know if you heard about it. I was crushed under a ladder truck. My leg took the brunt of it.”

Things clicked for Tommy quickly. He did remember that, watching it on the news because it was his old firehouse and he’d been so worried for Hen and Chim and Bobby. He hadn’t known it was Evan and oh…Evan had been injured and his girlfriend had left him. She left him to sit in the apartment she’d picked out, on the couch that she had bought because his bedroom was up the stairs and it wouldn’t have made any sense for Evan to stay up there. Tommy hated it. He hated what Evan had gone through and on top of that being left by the person that was supposed to be there taking care of him.

“So you got rid of it?” Tommy asked.

“No. It was very comfortable. I had it for a few years and then I asked Taylor to move in. That was a mistake. She, uh, she said she had a superior couch and I didn’t fight her on that. So we got rid of mine. When we broke up, she took it with her.”

“This was your last girlfriend?” Tommy asked.

Evan shook his head. “The one that came before. Taylor’s the one that wrote the book.”

“And you didn’t replace it since?” Tommy asked.

Evan actually chuckled as he shook his head. “Not for a while. When I was struck by lightning, my parents were visiting. My mom got me a new couch. It wasn’t comfortable and it didn’t go with the apartment but it was a nice thought. So, I wasn’t upset when I had to deliver a baby on it.”

Tommy was still trying to think about Evan’s parents and their involvement. They hadn’t really talked about them much, not that Tommy had discussed his own family history. He was so focused on that part of what Evan had said that it took him a moment to try to explain why there had been a pregnant woman in Evan’s apartment. He couldn’t find a reason.

“You delivered a baby on your couch,” Tommy said.

Evan nodded. His cheeks had gone pink and he looked like he was trying to talk himself into saying something. Tommy just watched and he saw when Evan steeled himself.

“Hey,” Tommy said, “you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

Evan smiled. “I want to. I, uh, I’m a sperm donor,” he said. “Well, not in general, but I did donate sperm for my friend Conor and his wife. Cameron was upset with Conor and she was at my place when her water broke. I delivered their baby right on the couch. Got rid of it soon after.”

Tommy didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to form any words, instead he just stared at Evan. Suddenly, he understood why Evan had said it was a long story and maybe it even explained why he hadn’t yet gotten a replacement. He was also a little stuck on Evan being a sperm donor. There was a kid out there with his DNA, one that probably even looked a little like him and Evan had even helped the mother give birth.

“How…how do you feel about that?” Tommy asked.

Evan shrugged his shoulders. “You know, there was a moment when I was holding the baby where I felt so much longing for him and then I gave him to Cameron and she loved him so much. She and Conor will give him such a good life because they wanted him so much. I mean, I hadn’t spoken to Conor for years before he called so I know I was something of a long shot, but they called anyway. They wanted him so badly. I don’t regret it.”

Tommy could tell that he meant it. Evan really was just that wonderful. He was admirable and Tommy knew not many people could do what he’d done.

“How long ago was that?” Tommy asked.

“A few months back.”

“And you never replaced the couch,” Tommy said with a grin.

“Ah, no. I did go look at a few with Natalia, but I didn’t find any that I liked.”

“There is so much to unwrap here,” Tommy said. “I don’t even know where to start.”

Evan just smiled. “I know,” he said. “You know, Chris makes fun of me for not having a couch, granted it’s partly because we can’t have any sleepovers.”

“We’ll fix that, Evan,” Tommy said, smiling at him. “We’ll find you a new couch.”

“Now,” Evan said, “it’s time for you to tell me something. Anything.”

Tommy grinned back. “Well,” he said, “is there anything you want to know specifically?”

“Uh, how…how did you know you were gay?” Evan asked it and then hid his face behind his coffee.

Tommy smiled easily. It was a little wild to him that Evan had only really come to terms with his own sexuality the night before. It hadn’t even been twenty four hours. Part of the way he was reacting was the soulmate thing, but Tommy had still tried to keep some distance between them when they got to the restaurant to not make it obvious just in case. In his experience, most people were accepting. They didn’t care about strangers when they had their own problems to deal with. But in a crowd of many, sometimes the one or two assholes were the loudest. The last thing Tommy wanted was to expose Evan to that, not that it wouldn’t happen eventually.

“Looking back, I think I knew pretty early,” Tommy said. “I didn’t get all the excitement about girls and then sometimes I did notice a guy and that was different. I knew gay people existed, obviously, but I didn’t think that was me. I hated it. I didn’t have anyone to turn to and my parents are very religious. I pushed myself to date girls…some attempt at being normal. I deluded myself into thinking that everyone was faking the excitement about dating…it wasn’t until the first time I kissed a guy that I knew.”

“Wow,” Evan said. “It wasn’t easy, then.”

“Not at all, Evan. I told myself lies for a long time. Sometimes to protect myself and other times because it was easier. You’re just coming to terms with who you’ve always been…I knew and I refused to acknowledge it for a long time.”

“Oh,” Evan said. “And your…your parents?”

Tommy chuckled. “I haven’t spoken to them in years. Don’t need to. Don’t intend to.”

“They weren’t accepting,” Evan said. “I’m so sorry, Tommy.”

“Don’t be. They’re religious in a bad way. It took me a long time to realize how much of what they said I internalized. How much it kept harming me. I’m better off without them.”

Tommy drank a gulp of his coffee. He hadn’t expected heavy conversation on what was meant to be their first date, but at the same time it was good to get it out of the way. Evan was watching him, small smile playing on his lips, and it was a reminder that their pasts wouldn’t mar who they were now or what they could be for each other.

“You know,” Evan said, “you might just beat me on bad parents. Though, I have no idea how they will react to this. I guess we’ll find out at the wedding.”

“Wedding?” Tommy asked.

Evan blushed. “Sorry,” he said. “I should have asked…will you be my date to my sister’s wedding?”

Tommy nodded at once. With anyone else it would have felt too soon and too quick.

“Of course, Evan. You won’t tell them before that?” Tommy asked.

“No,” Even said decidedly. “They’re, uh, not horrible people or anything. They were awful parents, but they’ve been trying because of Jee and some other things. They did buy me that couch.”

“The one you haven’t replaced,” Tommy said.

Evan laughed. “Yeah. It’s, uh, it’s complicated with them. Maybe if we’re lucky, Maddie will tell them for us.”

“Does Maddie even know about me?” Tommy asked.

Evan shook his head. “She knows I found my soulmate. I’ll tell her soon. Her, I’m not too worried about.”

Tommy couldn’t tell if that meant that Evan was actually worried about his parents or not. It almost seemed like he barely wanted to interact with them at all and Tommy could easily understand that.

They left when they finished their coffee, Tommy walking behind Evan and allowing his eyes to look at the way that Evan walked, how the jeans he was wearing hugged his ass just right. He really was too gorgeous for words and it was made so much better by who he was too. Tommy was in awe of him.

“What’s the rest of your day look like?” Evan asked.

“I do have a shift later, but clear otherwise.”

“Eddie didn’t call to make plans,” Evan said. “No street fighting or flights to Vegas.”

Tommy chuckled. “No, Evan.”

“It’s nice you guys get along, actually. My soulmate and my best friend.”

It hadn’t been a full day since they figured everything out. They had kissed for the first time the night before. Everything was insanely new and yet, somehow, it just felt so right. Especially when Evan grabbed his hand as if he did it all the time, or when he brought it up to his lips to press a kiss to Tommy’s knuckles that left his hand tingling.

—

“I have something to tell you,” Buck said. He fiddled with the lid of his coffee cup and watched Maddie.

His sister paused across the island from him. “Everything okay?” she asked, head tilted and a worry frown appearing on her forehead.

“It’s…well, actually everything is great,” Buck said.

She stared him down and Buck was aware, a little too aware, how well his sister knew him and how she could probably tell that he was ridiculously nervous and worried. He didn’t even know why, because it was Maddie and Maddie wouldn’t judge him or anything and yet that didn’t change how difficult it was.

“What happened?” Maddie asked.

Buck gulped. “Well, I told you I met my soulmate.”

Maddie nodded and suddenly she was smiling. “Oh. Is this an update? I’ve been meaning to ask, but it’s been a bit crazy with the wedding and everything.”

“Uh. Yeah. Yeah. It is. We figured everything out, Maddie. It’s really…it’s amazing.”

“I’m so happy for you, Evan,” Maddie said. “When do I get to meet her? Tell me it’ll be before the wedding.”

“About that,” Buck said, looking away from Maddie and taking a moment.

“Buck?”

Buck looked back up. “Yes, you can meet him before the wedding. It’s just that you might be a little…I don’t know, I was shocked so I can understand if you are too, but — oh, this is hard. It’s just that it isn’t what I expected and—”

Maddie lifted a hand, cutting him off. “You said him,” she said. “Your soulmate is a guy.”

Buck inhaled a breath and he nodded quickly. “Yeah.”

“Oh. Wow,” Maddie said and then found Buck’s gaze. “I don’t think I ever expected you could lean in that direction. It’s not — it’s not a bad thing. I just—”

“Didn’t expect it,” Buck said. “Yeah, me either. I’m bisexual, Maddie.”

Maddie smiled, then, and he could tell that she was just taking a moment to process. He didn’t blame her, it had taken him long enough to figure it out. That was especially so when considering how deluded he’d been for a little bit there. He’d been so convinced that it would be platonic and he was so glad to be wrong.

“I’m proud of you, Evan,” Maddie said. Her voice was full of emotion. “What’s, uh, what’s his name?” Maddie asked.

“It’s, uh, it’s Tommy,” Buck said.

“Tommy,” Maddie repeated.

Buck could see that she was putting it together, so he waited.

“The, uh, the pilot. The one that flew you guys out to the cruise ship. That’s when you met. Oh my god, that’s…wow.”

“I know,” Buck said. “He’s amazing, Maddie. Not just because he’s my soulmate but he’s just so confident and strong and did I mention how hot he is? I can’t stop thinking about him all the time. I had no clue it could be like this.”

One week since he’d kissed him and Buck hadn’t known a time when he was as excited about someone as he was about Tommy. Tommy still made him nervous, he made him blush and he made him giddy.

“I can’t wait to meet him,” Maddie said.

“He’s excited to meet you too,” Buck said. “Would have brought him over today except he had plans.”

“Where is he now?”

“At a pick up basketball game with Eddie,” Buck said with a roll of his eyes. “Now I have two of them trying to get me to go.”

Maddie grinned. “Do they know you don’t like basketball?”

“Who doesn’t like basketball?” Chim asked, entering the kitchen and heading to the fridge.

“Me,” Buck said.

Chimney grinned at him when he closed the fridge door. “Oh, is Eddie still trying to get you to go with him? I thought he said he was going with Tommy.”

“He did,” Buck said.

“Tommy’s so cool,” Chim said. “You know, he flew Eddie to see a fight in Vegas two weeks ago. We should hang out with him more, Maddie. I can’t believe I didn’t invite him to the wedding.”

“I’d really like to meet him,” Maddie said. “I’ve heard so much about him.”

Buck shared a look with Maddie. On the one hand, he knew it’d be a little funny for Chimney to find out about him and Tommy at the wedding, but on the other hand, Buck didn’t think he could keep it in for much longer.

“About that,” he said.

“What?” Chim asked. “What’s going on?”

“You know how Maddie asked you to add a plus one for me.”

Chimney coughed. “Yeah…very inconvenient Buck. It’s why we had RSVPs and you didn’t check the box. You have to check the plus one box, Buck. Don’t tell me you changed your mind. That is too late. I don’t care who you bring…you have to bring someone and Ravi doesn’t count, he has his own invitation. Just don’t invite the death doula. We don’t need that kind of energy at our wedding.”

Buck shared another look with Maddie.

“Spit it out, Buck,” Chim said.

He took a breath. Then, he just said it: “My plus one is Tommy,”

He saw the confusion cross Chim’s face and he didn’t seem to get very far in trying to figure out why, before he turned to Buck.

“I thought he’s been hanging out with Eddie, not you. And I only introduced you to Tommy the night we flew out into that hurricane. What’s…what’s going on?”

“Tommy is my soulmate,” Buck said.

That brought Chimney up short. He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, eyes wide as he stared at Buck and then his eyes went to Maddie as if he was trying to figure out if she was somehow in on the joke with Buck.

“You’re pulling my leg,” he said. “How is that — wait, since when are you — wait, wait, I introduced the two of you! I did that!”

Buck laughed. “Yeah, Chim. I’m so glad you did.”

“So, does that mean you’re into guys now?”

Buck gave a quick nod. “I didn’t know I was, but it’s this thing that’s been missing for me and now I know. I’m bi.”

When he looked towards Maddie, he saw her actually wipe away a tear and it felt so good to know it was a happy tear and that he wasn’t making her cry for other reasons.

“Now we really have to hang out with Tommy more,” Chim said. “Welcome him to the family.”

“And we’re even,” Buck added.

Chim just laughed. “Yeah, Buck, I guess we are. Although…you know I did save his life once. He’s paid up on that favor, but you haven’t.”

Maddie reached over to hit Chim on the shoulder.

—

“I take it,” Lucy said, “things are going well. I mean, going by your good mood lately.”

Tommy rolled his eyes.

“Come on, Kinard, spill it.”

Tommy sighed. He’d told Lucy all about him and Evan finally getting the time to talk the last time he saw her. He didn’t tell her about how he’d messed up a bit, or how he’d had to cut a karaoke night short in order to get to Evan. Those were things she would never let go, but she knew that he and Evan were together.

“It’s going really well,” Tommy said. “He’s great.”

“And he’s into you,” Lucy said. “I don’t want to say I told you so…but I was right.”

Tommy just laughed. “In this single instance I’m glad you were right.”

A call came in, just then. Brushfire that was growing and might become something even bigger. Tommy gave Lucy a nod and then he was off. The copter he would take out was the one that they’d been filling up with the retardant he’d need to drop and so it was quick work and he was in the air in less than ten minutes.

The sky was blue, almost cloudless and Tommy loved it up there. He loved the freedom. He’d never quite managed to find that anywhere else. Even in the army, when he was flying into dangerous places and the chances were that they might get shot down, there had been something very liberating about lifting up into the air. He felt free with Evan. He felt like he was flying except his feet were on the ground.

—

Bobby was the one to remind Buck that he and his soulmate had to register the bond. The registry was to keep track of how many soulmate pairs existed, it helped with research. It also created a familial bond on paper. It wasn’t exactly mandatory, but it was useful. Buck was also well aware that for the jobs that they had it took care of a big thing: making each other their emergency contact.

He and Tommy had been together for three weeks. Buck had never before felt so settled and at ease. They hadn’t even done much more than kissing and hand holding. It was so chaste that Buck didn’t know if he could handle any more cold showers. He had never gone this slow in any relationship after his teen years. It was nice, though, even if the anticipation was just about killing him.

“I take it you figured everything out,” Bobby said, looking up from where he was chopping veggies.

“Yeah,” Buck said with a grin. “It’s not platonic after all.”

Bobby smiled and if he was surprised, he didn’t show it. “Glad to hear it. You deserve this, Buck.”

“I’m, uh, I’m bisexual, Bobby,” Buck said. “And my soulmate, it’s…my soulmate is Tommy. I met him the night we flew out to rescue you and Athena.”

Bobby set down the knife and his gaze was suddenly fixed on Buck. In the next moment he’d rounded the island and Buck was pulled into a tight hug that lasted several seconds before Bobby let him go.

“I am so proud of you, Buck. You’ve changed and grown so much since you first came in here. You know, you are a bit alike. I only worked with Tommy for a little while before he transferred. I don’t know him as well as I’d like, but I know he’s a good guy. Athena and I probably wouldn’t be here without him — or any of you, really. I’m happy for you both. You’ll have to bring him for dinner with Athena.”

“Uh, sure. Yeah. I’m sure he’ll love that. You know, he’s told me he missed your cooking.”

Bobby chuckled as he walked back to his cutting board. “I know you’ve perfected some of my recipes.”

“It’s not the same,” Buck said.

“We’ll plan for a night soon. Don’t forget to register the bond.”

“I won’t.”

“Won’t what?” Hen asked, taking the stool next to Buck’s.

“Won’t forget to register my soulmate bond,” Buck said.

“Oh, that,” Hen said. “There’s a lot of paperwork, but it’s easy. How, uh, how is it all going?”

It was going amazingly, better than any relationship that Buck had ever had beforehand. Some of it, he knew, was their compatibility — the thing that made them soulmates and just fully made for each other. Then, there was everything else.

“It was bumpy at first, but so far everything’s been great. He’s coming with me to the wedding. Probably the bachelor party too.”

Hen shook her head at once. “Hasn’t Chim already told you he doesn’t want one?”

“But it’s tradition,” Buck argued. “Bobby, tell her.”

Bobby shook his head and went back to chopping. “I’m not getting involved in this.”

Buck eyed both of them. “He is having a bachelor party.”

Hen just let out a sigh. “I’m not stopping you, Buck, but I’m also not getting involved in getting Chim to go to it when he doesn’t want it in the first place.”

Buck rolled his eyes. Chim would get on board once Buck explained his plan. There was a karaoke lounge they could go to and it could even be themed somehow. Chim deserved a party and not just because he was getting married…it was because he’d introduced Buck to Tommy and changed Buck’s entire life around. This wasn’t his wedding gift to them, but it was a gift to Chim.

—

“You finally wore him down,” Tommy said, not able to keep his amusement out of his voice.

“He wanted the party, just didn’t know it,” Evan said. “Only issue now is it took so long to get him to agree, the only day available at the place is the day before the wedding. We’ll make it work.”

“And that might keep it from getting out of hand,” Tommy said.

Evan nodded. “I promised Maddie he’d be in bed by one at the latest. It’s the only way she’s letting us do it that night.”

Tommy still wasn’t entirely clear on why Evan was pushing for a party that the groom didn’t even want, but he also liked how cute Evan was about the whole thing. He’d seen him making a list the other day and he didn’t know that sliders, drinks, and karaoke needed that much planning, but he was leaving Evan to it.

Evan finished cleaning the counter. The oven was on with the lasagna Evan had made them inside. A salad sat on the counter. It was already starting to smell good and Tommy was excited to try Evan’s version of one of Bobby’s recipes.

“How long until that’s ready?”

“Forty-five minutes,” Evan said.

“Good,” Tommy said, “I haven’t tried out your new couch yet.”

“It’s a couch,” Evan said, but followed him out of the kitchen.

“One where I haven’t kissed you yet,” Tommy said as he sat, sprawling himself on it because he could and because it was big enough for him to do so.

The couch was dark gray and a bit bulky in a way that meant it was easy to spread out across it. The cushions were just the right amount of soft. Evan had picked it out after agonizing over a few different options and it had only been delivered earlier that day. Tommy thought he’d chosen well.

“Come here,” Tommy said.

“Where, you’re taking up the whole thing,” Evan said with an amused chuckle.

Tommy reached for him, grabbing his hand and pulling lightly. Evan toppled on him a little harder than Tommy had planned, but he didn’t mind. He wrapped an arm around Evan’s back to keep him there and Evan situated himself until one of his legs was between Tommy’s, their torsos pressed together.

“What do you think?” Evan asked.

“About?”

“Couch?” Evan asked.

“I’ll tell you after,” Tommy said and drew him into a kiss, hand on Evan’s neck.

Kissing Evan would never get old, not when Evan was so enthusiastic and into it and not when he knew just how to drive Tommy crazy. It had been a full month since their first kiss and since they figured everything out and Evan had been driving him insane since then. Tommy had known from the start things wouldn’t go too fast between them, but Tommy was starting to feel like a teenager with the way his body was reacting to Evan.

Evan was new to being with a guy and Tommy knew first hand how it felt, so the last thing he wanted to do was pressure Evan into anything he wasn’t fully ready for. Not that Evan wasn’t eager. He kissed Tommy dirty, like he couldn’t wait to do more. A few times already they had both gotten more than a little carried away, biting love marks on each other’s necks and their hands wandering a bit south.

* * *

At the moment, Evan pulled away, reaching for Tommy’s shirt and dragging his hands over Tommy’s stomach and chest. The shirt, rucked up to his armpits, Evan bent down and he kissed Tommy’s stomach, teeth nipping lightly as he made his way up, pausing at the scar Tommy knew was there to brush light kisses over it and then after a slight moment of hesitation, his mouth was on Tommy’s nipple.

Tommy let out a sound that was half moan and half groan. Evan laughed and then he was back at Tommy’s lips, kissing him lightly.

“Okay?”

Tommy just kissed him again in answer.

They were so pressed together that it wasn’t difficult to feel Evan, not when he moved so much and when his hands were all over Tommy’s chest. And then, Evan sat back and he reached for his shirt and drew it up his body until it was off and Tommy had no idea where it landed because his eyes had more important things to be consumed by.

It wasn’t the first time he’d seen Evan shirtless, but this felt different. Purposeful. Evan was all hard panes and muscle.

“Evan,” he said, breathless and wanting.

“Tommy,” Evan said in return and the warm palms of his hands were on Tommy’s stomach, one finger catching on the trail of hair that went down into his pants towards his very hard and twitching dick.

Tommy gasped and Evan’s fingers made their way up his chest, palms rubbing lightly on his nipples and taking Tommy’s breath away. His fingers even traced the scar he’d kissed earlier.Tommy reached for him, hands landing on Evan’s hips. His skin was warm and soft and perfect. All of him was perfect.

“Shirt off,” Evan said.

Tommy had to sit up to make it happen, bringing him and Evan closer still and somehow Evan shifted his weight and he was straddling Tommy at the waist. When Tommy lay back again, Evan sat back and his ass was right there, right on Tommy’s very interested cock. Tommy groaned and Evan made a gasping but unsurprised noise as he leaned towards Tommy and their lips met again.

Tommy’s hands climbed up Evan’s back, feeling his shoulder blades and then down his sides until they were on the top of Evan’s jeans. Evan groaned into the kiss and Tommy’s hand slid down, grasping Evan’s ass, groping at him and grinding up into him almost involuntarily.

Evan moaned against his neck, his hot breath making Tommy shiver and then Evan moved and it didn’t matter that they were still wearing jeans and underwear, because even feeling him like that felt like enough.

Evan kissed up his jaw and then his neck and down, giving each of his nipples attention that had Tommy throwing his head back. Evan, the little shit, just grinned into Tommy’s skin as he just kept kissing down and down and down. He only looked up once he’d made it to the top of Tommy’s jeans.

“I want to see you,” Evan said, voice almost shy. His cheeks were pink, but his blue eyes shone.

Tommy almost couldn’t find words. He could only nod and watch as Evan’s fingers fumbled with the button and then the zipper. Tommy helped him drag his jeans down some and he felt Evan pause.

“Hey,” he said and Evan’s eyes were on him again. “At your pace, right? You don’t have to do anything.”

“Right,” Evan said and he leaned over to kiss him again. “I want you so much, Tommy.”

Tommy had no idea where the self-restraint came from when Evan finally fumbled with moving Tommy’s underwear out of the way until his cock was out, tip more than a little wet and oh so absolutely hard.

“Oh,” Evan said and then his hand was there touching the skin around his dick…exploring. Teasing.

Tommy groaned too loud when Evan’s hand finally wrapped around him, moving and grasping in the most delicious way, his thumb touching the head and then because Evan didn’t do anything by halves, Evan’s lips and his tongue and the way that he groaned at the taste before going back for more. His eyes met Tommy’s and they were glinting and awed and Tommy was never going to forget Evan looking at him like that. Not ever.

He knew what it was like, the first time you touched a dick that wasn’t your own, how it felt to actually know in the practical sense. Evan touched him a little too gently at first, but he touched him reverently. He also, seemed to catch on quick and his grip got a little tighter as he moved his hand up and down and Tommy could hardly keep watching because it was too much and Evan was enthusiastic even in this because Tommy didn’t expect it when his lips were there again, kissing down his shaft and then licking up until his mouth took in the head and the heat of his mouth was too much in a way that Tommy had never experienced before because usually this wouldn’t be all that it took, but this was Evan and he was — oh, god—

“Evan,” Tommy said. “Evan, I’m—”

Evan’s head lifted up and Tommy grabbed for his discarded shirt, unloaded right into it.

“Oh,” Evan said, eyes wide and his mouth spread into a self satisfied grin.

“I didn’t want to get it on the couch,” Tommy said as he dropped his shirt aside.

They both broke out into laughter and Evan leaned into him a bit. He found Evan’s eyes back on his spent cock, and then they moved up to Tommy’s face, still smiling. He leaned forward, kissing him. It was gentler, a slower kiss that Evan pulled back from until Tommy reached up to touch him, to cradle his face and bring him back. Oh, he was falling for him and falling fast. The kiss turned harder and Tommy dropped his hands to Evan’s waist, grasping him until he could turn them and push Evan to his back on the couch.

“Wha—” Evan said.

“Let me take care of you,” Tommy said and he kissed Evan again, kissed his jaw and then his lips again.

“Don’t,” Evan said with a gasp that almost made Tommy sit up and let him go except that Evan held onto him. “Don’t stop.”

Tommy reached between them one handed and Evan nodded as he kissed Evan’s neck, licking up a bead of salty sweat. He opened Evan’s jeans and Evan helped to bring them down alongside his underwear and Tommy groaned into Evan’s clavicle when his hand finally grasped him. Evan was big. He was girthy, he was beautiful and he just held him for a while, touched the wet head with his thumb. Evan was shaking, letting out the most gorgeous little whines. Tommy wanted to taste him, he wanted to feel Evan’s cock on his tongue and in his throat and—

“Can I—”

“Anything,” Evan said, breathless as he cut his question off.

Tommy chuckled. He kissed down his chest, not lingering, though one day he would. He would kiss every inch of Evan. Then, he was there and Evan’s cock twitched under his gaze. Tommy looked back up at Evan who was looking at him, mouth slack and eyes dilated. He was too gorgeous. Too amazing. He was his.

Tommy took it slowly, tongued the very tip and then ran his mouth down the underside, listening for Evan’s gasp and groan and how he whimpered. And then, he lowered his mouth over the tip and down. Breathing through his nose and getting all the musk and sweat and sex…the Evan of it all. He was never going to have enough of this.

Evan didn’t last long and Tommy let him cum in his mouth, and even then, what he couldn’t swallow dripped down his chin when Evan’s spent cock left his mouth. Evan looked at him almost lazily, blinking and smiling. He reached for him and Tommy moved so he was leaning over him and he was just a little surprised when Evan wiped his own cum from Tommy’s chin before he brought that finger to his own lips and then, because that wasn’t enough, he pulled Tommy into a short but sweet kiss.

* * *

“That’s one way to break in a new couch,” Evan said, eventually.

He felt Evan’s laughter more than heard it. Tommy pressed their foreheads together. He closed his eyes. He took in the moment. He had never felt happier, never felt as hopeful, never known with such surety that he’d found somewhere to belong; someone to belong to.

—

Buck would have laid with Tommy on his new couch for a lot longer, but he could admit that with both of their pants not even all the way down their thighs and their dicks hanging out, things were only heading in the direction of not comfortable. Buck went up the stairs to the bathroom up there while Tommy took the one downstairs. He cleaned himself up, got into a clean pair of boxers and pants and shirt because he had no idea where in the living room his other shirt had ended up.

“Hey, Evan, I’m gonna need to borrow a shirt,” Tommy called up.

“I’m not opposed to keeping you without,” Buck called back even as he searched his closet for something that might fit Tommy.

He settled on one of his bigger LAFD t-shirts and even then when Tommy put it on, it was tight across his chest, highlighting his pectorals in a way that it was almost like he still wasn’t wearing anything.

“I like you in my clothes,” Buck said.

His hand landed on Tommy’s chest, crawling up to his neck, breath catching as he remembered what had happened on his couch. How it had felt to have Tommy’s body above him and under him and his mouth and his touch. If there had been any question about Buck’s attraction to men, it had been obliterated the moment that he had Tommy’s dick in his hand and all he’d felt was longing and a deep want. Buck had always loved sex and sex with Tommy was everything. They’d barely even done much and yet it left him so warm and so wanted and so satisfied at the same time as hungry for more.

“How do you feel?” Tommy asked.

“Amazing,” Buck answered and he pulled Tommy to him and into a kiss.

Tommy’s arms were around Buck, pulling him in flush against him and they swayed on the spot as they kissed until they were both breathless, and even then they stayed in their embrace, neither ready to let go.

“How about you?” Buck asked.

“Me?”

“How do you feel?” Buck asked.

“Like I’ve found where I belong,” Tommy said.

Buck hummed. “Yeah, I think we’ve both found that.”

#911 abc #bucktommy #tommy kinard #evan buckley #bucktommy fic #tevan #kinley #911 fic #buck x tommy #you can find me where the skies are blue

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runs-red · 2 days

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Why the Anti-Endogenic Community is Harmful

A few things to get out of the way. You can be anti-endogenic and decent, obviously. This is about the issues with the community in general, not about pointing at every single anti-endo ever to call them an ass. Anti-endogenic can mean a lot of things.

And this is about non-DID plurality. I feel like the vast majority of the endogenic community (on Tumblr at least, haven't been on TikTok in over a year) has nothing to do with DID.

The Biggest Issue

At its core the issue is with not respecting a person's identity, their right to self-identify, and to label and talk about their own personal internal experiences. I’m coming from a position where I think it’s wrong to look at a massive group of people reporting relatively consistent experiences and deeming that they’re all actually wrong or outright lying. I also think the implication that hundreds of people come online just to act like systems to be annoying is…. Strange.

I don’t think it’s fair to ask for undeniable proof when the experience is happening internally. I feel like it puts people into a corner where they can’t defend themselves from that standpoint. “Prove to me you’re actually fictionkin”, “prove to me you actually have MaDD”, “prove to me you’re actually a system”, it just leads to the same conclusion. There is nothing they can physically give you, and they shouldn’t have to prove their internal experiences to be respected in the first place (not even believed, the basic respect of being blocked would do).

Telling people they're either secretly traumatised or experiencing psychosis or have tricked themselves into being plural or outright lied to themselves is not a good dilemma to throw at people. Again, in general dictating other peoples internal experiences is just… not cool in the first place.

Lastly, refusing to listen to endogenics on their identity and continuing to spread hate on pre-convinced ideas is a pretty relevant issue. I continue to see takes that alienate endogenics with childhood trauma (talking about them like they can't be traumatised), "transplural" is still used as a "told you so", “trying to have DID” and the refusal to separate endogenic plurality from DID, and overall just pushing assumptions onto the endogenic community around their own identities. I refuse to believe that’s in good faith at all.

It’s Gone Beyond Identity

If it ended at “I don’t believe you're actually plural” it wouldn’t be that much of an issue, unfortunately it’s gone way beyond that. “Endos” are spoken about like they’re a collective piece of shit. I don’t really care about sounding dramatic right now because it’s the truth. Since I’ve been scrolling the anti-endo tags for proof I’ve gotten some on my For You Page, a lot of them reek of hatred. Here’s a post I did where I shared some screenshots on anti-endogenics.

One) Lumping Endogenics in Together

The ‘endo’ community is actually full of different types of plurals who have varying experiences and terms and language. When you see all endogenics as one entity, it’s easier to pin them all for the actions of one and to demonise them. This just reeks of hatred and it borders on bigotry.

Two) Framing Endogenics as Inherently Malicious

Take the “future is plural” backlash. The phrase was never meant to mean “everyone is going to be plural” or “everyone is going to try and give their kids DID”, the same way the phrase “the future is female” doesn’t mean “let's kill all men so there's only women”. Endogenics are framed with causing everything bad in the system community, pretty much. It goes beyond "I don't think endogenics are actually plural" to shit like "endogenics don't care about trauma survivors and go out of their way to fuck shit up."

Three) Just Plain Bullying and Treating Endogenics Like Shit

Again, this isn't just about "I don't believe you can exist" to "I hate the way you identify so much that I don't think you deserve respect or a space".

#I wanted this out if my drafts so if it doesn't make sense....#syscourse #reds.syscourse

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gwiyeounsonyeon · 2 days

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Growing Pains CH4 (MWC 10, 11, 12!)

Pairing: RE2 Leon Kennedy x Male(Intended) Reader Summary: College AU! Your day is shit but Leon's there to take you out. Words: 3,004/200 Warnings: reader's overstimulated Notes: this chapter was originally supposed to be longer but the first draft sucked so i rewrote everything

☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

For the entirety of your Sunday morning shift Leon had lingered in a mostly empty corner of the cafe, he sat up at a single-person table with a laptop out, pretending poorly to be hard at work. He looked around the store often and constantly checked the time, obviously very impatient for the day to be finished and so excited he was practically vibrating the store from how hard he was bouncing his knee. You knew he didn't mean to cause you any stress but his very naive puppy-like act pinched some nerves you didn't know you had–or maybe you were just having a bad day. With your head buried deep up in the clouds, you hadnt realized that you fucked up two orders in a row until the customers had come up to angrily complain at you, glaring nastily as you apologized and made them each their correct order and gave it to them for free. Apologizing had left a sour taste in your mouth that grew as you poured the coffee down the drain and tossed the cups into the trash, you had absolutely no idea why you were getting so worked up over something you’ve done a handful of times.

You barely made it through your next customer without blowing up in their face and as soon as they left you step back from the register and start untying your apron as you head to the back, “I’m goin’ on break.” You don't mean to sound as rough as you did and you don't notice the worried looks Claire and Leon throw your way. You don't pay any attention to her as Claire follows you into the break room and you try to keep the silence between you by pretending like you dont notice her standing in the doorway with her arms crossed, “There’s something wrong with you today.” It's kind of funny, the way she says it and any normal person would take offense but you’ve known Claire for nearly her whole freshman year, so it's a lot easier to tell the difference between her being flat out rude and her just caring too much to baby you. “That so?” You don't look up from your hands, idly shuffling things around and pretending to look busy so she’d hopefully leave. “If you won’t tell me what’s wrong, then you can just go home.” Your brows furrow and you glance up at her confused, “I have an hour left, why would I do that?” She shrugs and lets her hands fall down by her sides, “I dunno…” You instantly recognise the insecure tone in her voice and pull your hands from your locker so you can stand up fully, “I’m just… worried, you’re acting weird.” Your demeanor softens, a weight settles in your stomach as your shoulders drop, you hadn't realized that she’d picked up on your unreasonably sour mood and the fact that it made her upset without you knowing only makes that weight heavier. “I-.” You start to apologize but she cuts you off by shaking her head, “Just…” She struggles to find the right words and looks off to the side, her eyes drifting to the corner of the room, “You don’t have to bottle it up… You’re not alone anymore.” Her words hit you like a bullet straight to the chest, a lump forms in your throat as you remember what you had gone through when you first met Clair.

It was bad and the knowledge that she noticed and remembered something like that gets your eyes burning, but you swallow the lump in your throat and blink the tears out of your wet eyes as you nod awkwardly, “Yeah. Yeah, I know.” She goes to say something else, her hand reaching out to you but someone rings the bell at the counter and she pauses for a second and looks over at the door, she looks back at you like she’s going to apologize but whoever is at the counter rings the bell again and then keeps ringing it impatiently. She breaks for the front, only slowing down as she rounds the corner and into the dining area to take the customers order. Once she's gone you’re left in relative silence, you sit on a hard plastic chair and lean back, your mind wondering to Clair and how lucky you must’ve been to have met her. Your thoughts keep running as you think about what kind of life she’d lead after college and if she would still be friends with you, or if she’d still be friends with Luis, or Leon. For some reason your thoughts get stuck on Leon, you wonder about his life, his major, what his grades are like but those thoughts are only brief, your brain taking you down a different train of thought.

You stare off into space as you fidget with your phone, your thoughts unhelpfully reminding you of how flawed you are and how perfect leon seems in comparison to you, you hadn’t realized you started crying until a tear lands on your phone. The interruption pulls you out of your self-deprecating spiral and back into the present moment, you wipe your face quickly and stand to go to the bathroom before Claire or someone else spots you. You lock the bathroom door and lean over the sink, avoiding looking in the mirror, you know your hair is messy, you know you have dark bags under your eyes but you know that looking at yourself will only send you back into your earlier spiral. You scrub your weary face with cold water and pat it down before fixing yourself the best you can and heading out back to the dining area. It got busy fast, you hurriedly tie on your apron to help the next customers in Claire’s long line, a decent chunk of them migrating over to stand in front of your register.

You’re too busy to notice the grateful look she gives and definitely too busy to notice how Leon’s stopped pretending to work and is now just blatantly staring at you. With the two of you working you get through the wave of customers until there’s only a few stragglers left and a few familiar faces, Luis leans against the counter by Claire looking painfully tired and they chat idly as she makes him his drink, Leon naturally migrating over to the two of his closest friends. You aren't given any time to engage or listen to what their talking about as a brick wall settles in front of you, you look up at the Tyrant, who, after being added to the group chat with everyone including Luis and some girl named Ashley who you’ve never met in person, you learned that the Tyrants real name was Mr. X. you also learned, after a lot of teasing and jokes, that no one knew Mr. X’s full last name nor his first name. “Hi. Welcome to-.” He interrupts you with a wave of his hand and a scoff, “If you can’t remember something as simple as my order then why the hell do you work here?” You will yourself not to gawk, the gall of this guy. You fix your smile that had dropped slightly and tap his order into the register a tiny bit passive-aggressively, “Of course I remember your order, it’s just customary that I-.” He cuts you off again, “I don’t care about the customs of a coffee shop run by children,” He casts a nasty look over at Clair and you have to bite your tongue to stop yourself from getting fired or sued. “Just shut your mouth and make my damn drink.” Your head aches, a dull pounding settles just behind your eyes and you turn around to make his coffee, just wanting to get his order finished so he can leave.

As you’re putting a fresh pot of coffee on to boil you see the teacher turn to Leon and Claire to ask them how they’re preparing for exams. Claire’s normal strong defiant demeanor falters and Leon just looks scared shitless, he doesn’t attempt to say anything but he doesn't have to as Claire’s already opening her mouth to tell him they had a study group. The coffee is pretty much finished so you turn back to making his drink, keeping their conversation within earshot, something about this guy made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. Once you finish you place the lid on his cup, not bothering to snap it on correctly but he doesn't seem to notice as you hand it over, “Please be careful, our lids haven't been fitting right.” He rolls his eyes at you and tosses down the exact amount and not a cent more. When Mr. X passes Leon on his way out he glares down at him, a frown tugs at your lips as you watch Leon's face twist anxiously.

When he's out of the shop and the door is shut firmly behind him you hear the trio collectively let out a big breath, you mull over your conversation with him in your head while you shut the drawer and lean your elbows on the counter, your eyes straying out the window just in time to see Mr. X run into a trio of freshmen and spill coffee all down the front of his coat. Before you realize what you’re doing, your arm grows a mind of its own and you knock your fist against Luis’ shoulder, he looks over at you and you point out the window where Mr. X is throwing a temper tantrum about the coffee spilt on his ugly ass coat. Luis snorts, then chokes on his coffee, doubling over in a coughing fit. He nearly misses the counter when he tries to set his cup down but you catch it just in time, using his free hand to point out the window, Claire barks out a loud laugh as she slaps Luis on the back. Your eyes flit over to Leon just in time to see the tension flood out of his shoulders and a small smile tug at the corners of his lips, he senses your gaze on him and he looks over.

As you make eye contact, butterflies fill your stomach uncomfortably and your face starts to feel hot, you turn back to the register and pretend to look busy as the freshmen wander in, giggling to themselves. You miss the way Leon brightens up but you hear his excited voice loud and clear; “Hey Ashley.” Your head snaps over to them when you hear that name and you look over to see a pretty looking blonde amongst two brunette girls that are leant in close to each other whispering about something and a ravenette who doesn't look like she wants to be here. The ravenette comes up to the counter first, rolling her eyes at her friends as she passes, she looks at the menu for a while as you watch the very friendly interaction between Ashley and Leon with a bitter feeling rising in your throat. The girl in front of you clears her throat and rattles off her order, you tap it into the register while trying to listen in on what Leon’s talking about but it quickly gets very complicated as the girl starts listing off the different types of ingredients and things she wants added to her food. “I’ll go make that.” Claire sing-songs and snatches the note from your hands while she walks to the kitchen Luis trailing after her, you make the ravenette’s drink and tune back into Leon’s disturbing conversation about how Mr. X is very biased and rude, going so far as to give Leon false bad grades.

“Why haven't you reported him?” As soon as it comes out of your mouth everyone goes quiet, clearly scared of the guy. Leon shrugs and plays with his fingers, “He's scary…” You roll your eyes and toss a crumpled receipt at him, “And he’s going to keep being scary if no one does anything about it.” He watches the receipt bounce off his shoulder and roll onto the counter, he pokes it and then unfolds the paper, fidgeting with it to try to get it completely flat. You watch him as Ashley speaks up, “It's not that easy, i’ve heard that the whole staff is scared of him and that's why he’s still allowed to work here.” She speaks with wide eyes, her two brunette friends nod enthusiastically as the other girl rolls her eyes. “And you believe them? Have you not met the Chancellor?” you say, your gaze flickering back to leon as he doodles on the receipt with a sharpie, your heart squeezes at how cute he it but as soon as that thought passes through your head you force your eyes away, glancing up in time to see Ashley cock her head slightly, “No, who’s the chancellor?” You nod while pulling out your phone to google Albert Wesker, you click on the first picture and show her, the brunette girls leaning in to see too. “Oh, I know him. He comes to the store my dad works at.” When she says that Leon looks up trying to see the picture on your phone, you tilt the screen over to him and he furrows his brows, “He looks familiar, i think…” Ashley must have realized something as she suddenly gets really enthusiastic, she taps Leon's shoulder rapidly until he looks up.

“He’s the guy that donated all that money to my dad, the one we saw at the party.” Your brows raise at what she said and the unpleasant feeling stirs in your gut again, rising up into your throat like bile. Claire comes back with the black haired girls food and the other girls drift over to her to get their orders in too, once they have the shortest one waves Ashley over to order. “Why’d your dad need money?” You look over at her as she shrugs “I never asked, I just assumed it was for his business…” You’re even more confused, “Business?” The taller brunette girl nods, “Yeah, Ashley’s dad works for a really big tech business. He’s like, really rich.” You nod slowly and look over to Ashley for confirmation but before she can get a word in, the shorter girl pipes in, “Its called DSO but no one knows what it stands for but it's on everyone’s phones, see?” She holds out her phone and sure enough on the back near the bottom left hand corner were the letters DSO. You’d seen a few buildings with those letters before but you’d always assumed it was for something else, not tech stores. “Mine doesn’t.” You don’t pull out your phone but it doesn't seem to matter, both of the brown haired girls look at you weirdly and then at each other, you roll your eyes and shake your head while walking back to your register to see the time, there's about thirty minutes left until it's time for you and Claire to close.

You busy yourself with wiping down the counter as Claire makes the rest of the girls’ drinks, they thank her and pay before leaving. You watch out of the corner of your eye as Leon and Ashley hug before she leaves to catch up with her friends. You frown down at the counter as you clean it off, “What's got you down, Hermano?” You’re embarrassed at the yelp you let out when Luis sneaks up behind you and sets his hands on your waist. He laughs and pulls his hands off to stand next to you while leaning on the counter, “Where the fuck did you come from?” You slap his arm lightly, your other hand pressed over your fast beating heart. “I went to the bathroom.” He shrugs casually, like he hadn't just tried to kill you.

You furrow your brows and push him into the direction of the door, “Get out, we’re trying to close.” He holds his hands up in mock surrender as he turns to walk out the door, Leon trailing behind him like a lost puppy. They wait and chat idly by Leons bike as you and Claire close, once everything is done and in order she heads out of the shop first ticking her tips into her pocket as you reset the alarm then lock the door behind you. Claire waves you and Leon goodbye as her and Luis walk in the direction of campus, both of them having classes all afternoon. Leon clears his throat nervously from behind you, he’s holding onto the handlebars of his bike, ready to go. “Where are we going?” You stuff your keys back into your pocket as his cheeks turn red, “Oh uh… I haven't… actually gotten that far… yet…” He explains lamely while scratching the back of his neck, Your heart skips in your chest and you purse your lips trying to fight off the sudden urge to lean in and kiss him.

“Hm…” You hum thoughtfully and pull your bottom lip into your mouth to chew on it as you think. All you really want to do is go home and relax but you also don't want to leave Leon, the longer you’re around him the more addicting it gets to be around him. “What about a movie?” He perks up and nods, following you when you start heading in the direction of the theater, “What’s even on?” You yawn and stretch your arms over your head, your body feeling stiff, “There's a zombie movie playing.” You see him look over at you from the corner of your eye, you give a thoughtful nod not really thinking about it, all you want to do is sit down and maybe sleep. “What’s it about?” He pauses to think, “I think it's about a cop but that's all I remember seeing about it.”

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#x male reader #x reader #resident evil leon kennedy #resident evil leon #resident evil 2 #resident evil #re leon #leon s kennedy #leon #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x reader #re2 leon kennedy #re leon kennedy #leon kennedy re4 #re leon kennedy x male reader #re2 leon kennedy x male reader #leon kennedy x male reader

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user2772636 · 3 days

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Douzième Fille

12th girl

××《☆》××

Years have gone by. It's now 1971. You've peaked in your career. You've become well known. But what happens when an all too familiar face returns, now more drawn to you?

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Joseph Descamps x Reader

Warnings: steamy ASFF???, angst, swearing, alcohol consumption, shlut shaming (fuck that old man), implied smut in the end (i didn't write smut yall im nervous)

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Chapter nine: You belong to me

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You and Joseph called consistently. Phone bills got higher, but both of you could care less. Both of you sent letters, pictures, and postcards like you promised.

Joseph often sent you pictures of him and George. He sent you postcards from Italy, Germany, and some cities in France.

You often send pictures of yourself, Callum, and photoshoots. You sent him postcards from Milan, New York, Copenhagen, and more. Mostly fashion capitals in the world.

Every letter you'd send each other would contain your days, food you tried, people you met, places you've been. But in the end of each one, there'd be the same sentence.

"I love you. See you soon."

It always said that.

Years pass, the calls get less consistent, the letters talking about your days now talk about your weeks, then they start talking about your months.

You talk about college now, parties you've been invited to, alcohol you tried.

Less and less postcards. Only three to five would come in a year now, the only thing written in them is the place they've been to.

Seven years have passed. It's 1971 now. You're 23 years old. The phone ringings have stopped. The letter boxes are empty.

Joseph was now merely a memory. Something you've locked inside you. He's beginning to collect dust.

You write in your notebook about your day. You sit on your matress, only an underwear on and some sheer shirt. Your hair is up in a messy clip, bangs blown on your forehead.

Safe to say you're famous. You've been in countless magazines, influencing famous celebrities. For example, Jane Birkin with your full bangs. You actually have her number. It's in the room... somewhere.

Life in Paris has been... alright, you could say. Sure, it smells like piss, and sure, it's filled with rude people, but you grew up here, so might as well accept it.

Callum's been a big help. He's a famous photographer and car enthusiast now. He's done almost all of your photoshoots. There were some rumours that developed about you two being an item, but you quickly shut that down.

A knock is heard on your flat's front door. Callum walks in, a paper bag in hand, and a lit cigarette between his lips.

"Pretty girl," a nickname he never seemed to want to let go, "your wine is here."

You get up from your place, strutting down some steps and kissing Callum's cheek in greeting. You head to the bag placed on the kitchen counter.

"Fuck yes. Thank you, Callum. You're an angel." I place them in a gift bag, saving them for a future event.

In three days' time, a gala was to happen. It would be filled top to bottom with riches, designer clothes and items, jewels, and anything else that screams luxury. And what you're most excited about is the fact that it's a masquerade.

You, for one, were invited to this gala. The people who were invited are sort of a VIP. Only close friends of the host would be there, and knowing the host, they were luxurious as well.

Your dress was ready. Your gift was ready. Everything was ready. Even your plus one, who is very obviously Callum, was ready. Everything would be perfect.

But you were nervous. Something deep inside your gut was telling you something would happen, and you couldn't tell whether it was a bad sign or a good one. You were hoping for the latter.

It crawled through your skin. You weren't one to get nervous, especially after all the exposure to the media in the past couple of years. So this wasn't exactly normal.

Your heart was exhilarated. Your mind was all over the place. What if you didn't look your best? This was a question you haven't asked yourself in a long while. You've been so self-assured, but what changed it now? That gut feeling sucked.

You take your mind off it. You'd rather talk about your plans for that evening.

The dress you, Callum, and your stylist picked was an archive of Audrey Hepburn's 1956 film Funny Face. It was fluffy around the bottom, the end cutting off in the middle of your calf. It was off shoulder, drop waist, coloured white with accents of pink and blue for the flowers imprinted.

Some things to add on were long white silk gloves, your mask that covered anything but your eyes, along with a pair of white kitten heels, pearl earrings, and hair pieces. It reminded you of when you were young. You, in high school with your puffy skirts, pearl jewellery, and kitten heels.

There was something bugging you. Something you're missing. It was a nostalgic memory. It's something you were trying to figure out, but before you could, Callum's arm wraps around your shoulders.

"You alright, pretty girl?" He asked, worry etched in his tone.

You simply smile at him. "Yup. All good."

××《☆》××

You were riding around Paris in your vespa, the wind blowing through your hair and messing it up. It was an hour before midnight, the air colder, and the streets lit up with lights.

You wanted some air. Something about what happened earlier made your mind jumble over what it could've been. You needed to stop it from running around. It would've kept you up all night.

Your coat was on, keeping you warm. You had borrowed it from Callum, using the excuse of the fact that it was bigger, meaning it would keep you from the cold. Which was true.

He barely even used it anyway. It didn't even smell like him. Callum smelt like new cars, cigarettes, and hair gel. This coat wasn't too far, but it wasn't that close. It smelt like cigarettes, yes, but also expensive cologne. Callum doesn't wear that type of cologne.

It got your mind running again. You roll your eyes to yourself. You thought this would help. You speed your Vespa up, making it around l'Arc de Triomphe, turning to a road and going straight ahead.

The wind blew harsher, your nose getting irritated from the cold. You guess Callum's coat wasn't enough. You make some turns again till you get to Pont d'léna, now making you ride face to face with the sparkling Eiffel Tower. You got here in time for it.

Your awe for the tower never really faded even after seeing it almost every day for the past several years. Many people wish to see it for the first time again, but you, it will always feel like the first time.

You turn your head back to the road when you go right, on your way back to your flat. Your neck hurts a bit from craning it to the tower, but most of the time, it's worth it.

Again, you feel nostalgic. There's a tall figure standing on the side of the road looking up at the tower. His hair was messy, so as yours, and he was smoking a cigarette. He had something wrapped around his head. You couldn't quite focus on what he looked like exactly from the speed you were going.

You turn your head to the road again. What was that? It was probably a man you've seen around the streets, or somebody you worked with. You shrug it off and continue your ride home.

××《☆》××

It was the morning of the gala. It would start somewhere around six in the evening for dinner. You woke up early for the day.

You're outside a café with Callum, sipping on piping hot coffee and eating your pastries. Every once in a while, a flash is seen in the corner of your eye. Fans or paparazzi, you pay it no mind.

"Is there anything else we need to do or get before we prep for the gala?" You say, putting your cup down gently onto its plate.

"Nope. You seem a lot more nervous than usual. Is there something you wanna change up?" Callum asks, taking a puff out of his cigarette. You shake your head.

"Yeah, I don't know. I've been feeling it since yesterday. There's just... I think something's gonna happen. Something big." You shrug, crossing your arms and leaning on the table. Callum nods, leaning forward too, mirroring you.

"Ah, well, is it good or bad?" He questions, butting of his cigarette. You think for a while, reminiscing on the feeling.

"Actually, it might be good. That's why I'm nervous, you know? I don't want anything to get messed up. Because if something bad were to happen, well..." I shrug, hissing. Callum chuckles.

"Well, alright. We'll double-check everything so it goes smoothly for you, pretty girl." He pats your arm, reassuring you. You grab a hold of his hand, squeezing it and saying "Thank you."

It was afternoon now. You began to prepare for the gala. Your team came in a few minutes ago, and they begin working on you. You're sitting in your chair with your makeup artist fixing you up when the phone rings.

"Callum, can you get that, please?" I shout towards him. He comes out of the kitchen and into the living room we were in. He picks the phone up. You had a clear vision of everything. He leans against the wall, greeting the caller.

Then, his face shifts. It morphs into something you can't read, but Callum seems to hold in a smile. When he notices you looking at him, he turns his back towards you. Instead of speaking in a normal volume, he began to whisper.

What the fuck was that? Who could the caller be? It's probably one of his hookups, for sure. You let it slide. You'll ask about it after.

When Callum hangs up, you immediately call after him.

"Callum, who was it?" Callum turns around, hands in his back pockets and lips pursed. He does this when he's trying to hide something. You raise your brows.

"Just... someone special." He flashes a quick smile and then runs out of the room. Oh. You were right.

"Someone special" was a code name for one of the boys he fell in love with during your time here in Paris. You both were still in college. He was from the architecture department. Things happened, and things fell apart.

But then, you weren't so sure. Every time someone special called our place after their relationship, Callum was always sad after. Maybe something new happened?

When the clock hit five, everyone was on their way down stairs. You were fully prepped now, in your makeup, and dress with your jewellery and heels. Your mask was on, and you put on a large white fur coat.

Upon exiting your apartment complex, bunches of paparazzi blocked by barricades took pictures of you with their bright flashes. Callum and your team huddled around you, trying to get you safely in the car.

You get in your vehicle, and Callum had made an arrangement that he was to drive it. Nostalgia has filled your senses these past few days. You wonder what would come next.

When you arrived at the venue, wlaking through high ceiling halls and large oak doors, the room was filled with masked people, all dressed in various colours. They stood, laughed, and talked, all while drinking their preferred drinks.

It was a bit chilly in here, and you started to regret leaving your coat in your car. You didn't want to ask Callum to go with you to get it, seeing him already in conversation with the guests. You decide to go to the bar area instead.

You get your drink, fiddling with your hands as you wait. The ballroom was elegant, so much more brilliant than you thought it could be. Though, it felt rather lonely. You shake off the feeling once you receive your poison of the night.

Then, an announcement was heard. Everyone was to grab a partner to accompany them to dance. You promised Callum to enjoy the night, and you guess a dance could fulfil that.

You opted to a man who was sitting in the same bar you were in. He brought you a sense of familiarity for some unknown reason. He was slouched in his seat, ash brown hair a bit messy. He was turning his glass in circles.

"Hello." You greeted. When he turned to you, your eyes widened in wonder. He only had one eye hole, the rest of his face covered like yours. He blinks, and you could slightly hear him breathing.

"Hi." He says simply. You scan him, and there's a feeling in you that you definitely knew who this was, you just couldn't pinpoint it.

"I know I'm not in the position as a woman in this economy," you roll your eyes, "but, would you like to dance with me?"

His back straightens, and you think you've made him uncomfortable.

"Oh. I'm so sorry for even think-"

"Yes." He cuts in. He offers you a gloved hand as he stands from his barstool. You're surprised. He's taller than you imagined.

You take a hold of his hand. It's warm. Familiarly warm. He leads you into the middle of the ballroom, other guests already forming into formation. He gently takes your risks into his hold, moving up to his chest. Again, it's so familiar.

He drifts his hands to your sides and clutches it a bit. You feel as though you knew these hands. Like you've memorised the lines on the palm, the way the fingertips swirl, or how the muscles twitch and the joints move.

The orchestra starts to play, and you start to move. There's a flow you follow, and it feels so easy. You hadn't even known there was choreography, but the man you were with did. And he showed you through it.

You couldn't stop looking. Even if your neck started to hurt from looking up, even if you twirled, even if your eyes started to dry. You couldn't stop. And you didn't want to.

His eyes stayed on you all throughout the dance. The way he held you, the way he felt. He was so warm even if his body was covered in multiple layers of fabric. You could feel it. Like you've sunk into his skin.

When the dance ended, and he asked you to go with him, you agreed. You didn't know what he looked like. You only feel like you knew him, but you weren't sure. But even with that running through your head, you agreed.

The outside was cold but warmer than inside. You still shivered as you did before. Just then, a coat is wrapped around your shaking shoulders. You look up at the masked man. He took his coat off, now only dressed with a white button-up and a vest matching his pants. His already messy hair messes up even more now. It's in perfect condition to run your hands through.

You both make your way to the large railing of the balcony, taking a seat on it. It viewed the beautiful Eiffel Tower, its lights sparkling in the night. The wind blows once again. It's peaceful.

You turn your head to the man, and you almost fell over the rail. Sitting in front of you, his face finally unmasked, was Joseph Descamps. Out of all people, you didn't expect your first love to be sat in front of you. Seven years have passed, and he's still beautiful.

Your eyes began to sting as you lifted your hands to your face, discarding your own mask. He smiles, his pretty pink lips curving upward. He looks down, fiddling with the inseams of his pants. Again, it's familiar.

"Hi, Y/N." He whispers gently, taking a hold of your shaking hand. He takes your gloves off, putting them aside. He connects the tips of his fingers to yours, then encapsulates it in his warmth.

You can't speak. You can't breathe. You can't stop your heart from beating the way it was now.

"Seven years, and I finally see you again." He shows his teeth in his smile, and again, you can't stop looking.

"Still not talking?" He asks with a teasing tone, tilting his head.

"Did you know?" You asked, your voice so low you were surprised he even heard. Of course he did. He payed the closest attention to you.

"Know what?" He raises his eyebrows, anticipating your next words.

"That it was me?" He chuckles and shakes his head.

"Of course I did. I mean, I recognised you with one eye. I think I'd recognise you blind." He moves closer, bringing your hand up and placing a kiss on your knuckles.

You laugh. You lift your free hand up and cup his cheek. He leans into it, head laying heavy on your palm. He looks up at you, his eyelids heavy. Fuck.

He closes his eyes, taking his other hand to clasp at your wrist. He kisses your palm, leaving some wet patches from his open mouth. He trails his kisses up to your pulse, and you can't help but grab on his hair.

"Y/N, I've been looking-" Callum says as he runs towards the entrance of the balcony, stopping in his place at the sight of you.

"Oh, you finally met." Finally? You furrow your eyebrows, trying to figure out what he meant. Joseph pulls away from your hands, keeping his eyes on Callum. You turn my head back to the man in front of me, raising an eyebrow.

"What does he mean finally?" You ask Joseph. Callum walks towards us slowly, hands clasped behind his back.

"Uh..." Joseph looks to Callum. Callum raises his hands up. Joseph looks back to you, licking his lips before answering. "I planned it... sorry?"

"Planned it? Sorry? Joseph, why are you saying sorry? This is the best thing ever." You exclaim, and the two men just look at eachother.

"Not to ruin whatever the fuck you guys were doing just then, but the host wants some pictures, so..." He gestures to the door. You purse your lips in disappointment but nod. You get up and straighten your skirt, wiping off any wrinkles.

"I better go." You take your gloves and mask from where you were seated. "Can I see you after the gala?"

Joseph nods. "I was already planning on it." After prepping fully, you just stand there. You then lift your hand. "Bye."

Why was that so awkward? You'll save your self-beating bit later. Before you could even walk a step, Joseph takes your wrist again. You turn around to be met with a kiss on the corner of your lips.

"You look as gorgeous as the day you left." He whispers and presses another kiss on your cheek. They're beet red, you can feel it. He walks away, waving a bye to Callum, too. Callum slowly turns his head to you, then ushers you to go with him.

"What was that?" There's a cheeky smile on his face, and you try to hide your growing one.

"I don't even know."

××《☆》××

He was... clingy. The host, you meant. He was tall and built, but he was honestly so annoying. He kept bragging about his riches and talking about himself. The only time he shut up was when he took a sip of his whiskey.

You look around subtly, trying to keep yourself from rolling your eyes in front of the man, even though he could barely see them from your mask. Speaking of, he didn't wear one. This might've just been a party to make him somewhat the centre of attention for standing out.

"Dance with me, darling." You grimace. You're very glad for these masks. That nickname will be the death of you. And in a bad way.

"I don't feel like dancing. My feet are starting to hurt." I shrug, pointing to my ankles. You thought you were so smart, but he was just so insistent.

"Well, why don't we go upstairs? My office is free, and, you know," He comes disgustingly closer. You can smell his bad breath from his rotting yellow teeth. "I can help you with the aching."

Before you could retort, an arm wraps around your waist, keeping you still. You would've pushed away if you hadn't recognised his touch or his scent.

"Excuse me, sir. I must bring Ms. Pardine home immediately. She is busy tomorrow. And most definitely busy tonight." He turns his head towards you. He felt so tense. Like he was keeping something within him. A feeling so strong.

The man huffs like a child. "And who are you supposed to be?" He crosses his arms. He looks so immature, even with that saggy and wrinkley face.

"A close... friend." Joseph's hand slid down to my hips, clutching it slightly. He tugs you in closer, making you lose balance and place a hand on his chest. You refuse to look his way, or even anyones.

The other man scowls, disgust now visible in his face. "What a slut." He mumbles, finally leaving you alone. Joseph's grip on your hips tightens, and it starts to hurt you a bit.

"Joseph." You say, trying to gently push his hand away. He immediately lets go, turning to you worriedly.

"Shit. Sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you." He rubs your hip to relax it, but you don't relax one bit. Your heart hammers in your chest, and there's a feeling deep in your stomach.

"It's alright. Just take me home." I caress his neck before grabbing his hand, moving through the crowds of people. You try to look for Callum, but when you find him, he's talking, or quite literally eye fucking some guy he was conversating with. He can get home, you guess.

Joseph takes you home in his car. This felt weird. Not badly, just that you've never been driven by him. It felt comforting. You could get used to this.

You tell him the directions to your place, and when you make it, you pause.

"Come in?" You turn your head. Your masks were already long gone, and all you could see was his beautiful face again.

"Are you sure?" He asks, voice shaking. You can't believe he's still nervous with you, especially with that stunt he pulled with your wrist on a public balcony. You'll tease him about it soon.

"With you? Always." So then you went up to your room, and as soon as you did, his hands were on you again. He backs you up until your back hits the wall behind you. You're both breathing so heavy it's the only thing you could hear in the entire flat.

"I missed you. And I need you. So fucking much." He whispers, one hand cupping your face and the other roaming your waist. Your legs go wobbly, so you take your heels off, making you shorter than you already were standing in front of him.

"Fuck." You mumble. "Kiss me already."

He smashes his lips against yours feverishly, and you could taste everything he had that night. Wine, whiskey, cigarettes, and even strawberries. His tongue swipes your lips as he lets out a groan.

He pulls you closer, kneeling a bit to grab your thighs, then carrying you with ease, all while he loses his breath from kissing you. He lets go of your face to let his hands roam the area, not wanting to accidentally hit your wall.

"Bedroom?" He asks, parting for only a millisecond before placing his pretty pink lips on yours again. You have to fight the urge not to drown in him.

"To the left." He nods, continuing to kiss you as he reverts his way to the left side of your flats. You bump a few things on the way, like some side tables and magazines.

You finally make it to the bedroom, and he lies down gently onto your bed. He slows his lips, savouring the way you tasted. It makes you squirm in anticipation, and you feel a smirk on his lips as he continues. He parts away, a small string of saliva accentuating it. He pants before he speaks.

"I wasn't lying. I really fucking need you. Please. Please, tonight." He whimpers, arms wobbling from where he placed it to hover over you. You just can't say no.

One nod sealed the deal for him, and his lips were on you again. This time, it's on your forehead, your nose, your cheeks, your eyes.

He pecks down to your neck. Everything inside you feels so fuzzy, especially when he kissed and sucked on those sensitive parts. He lowers down to your shoulders, and you can feel the bruises forming. You love the way it feels. You love the way he feels. You love him.

××《☆》××

End - Chapter nine: You Belong To Me

Next - Chapter Ten: I love you

××《☆》××

WHAT'S UP GUYS??? So, like this is nice (i need him so bad OMFGGGGG) totally can still breathe after that last scene (i can't i want him pls omg) so like hope you enjoyed THAT cliffhanger. It's better than my old cliffhangers, right? But overall, i hope you enjoyed THE WHOLE chapter bcs its real nice, and it's all me. ONE CHAPTER LEFT!!!

#joseph descamps #joseph descamps x reader #mixte1963 #fanfic #reader insert #reunion #paris france #reunion smut #“i missed you” smut #implied smut #steamy #time skip #time lapse #after college #after highschool #childhood love #enemies to friends to lovers #enemies to lovers

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fernandopiastri28 · 11 hours

Text

first serve 🎾 (pt2) ~ oscar piastri x logan sargeant

-> part 1 <-

“Yeah,” Logan smiles, tackling Oscar fully back down as he’d partially sat up. “You’re so warm,” His hands slides up under the Aussie's shirt almost mindlessly. He doesn’t go further up then his abdomen though, his hand snaking around the back of his waist to hug him close. Oscar buries his nose into the crook of Logan’s neck, his senses flooded with the sharp taste of a cologne that costs more than he earns in a year. Well. Almost. It’s his favourite scent in the whole world, sharp tones of amber and wood. If he ever has enough money at one time, he’ll buy the scent, wear it each day just to think of the blond.

warnings: slight internalised homophobia

Oscar pushes his sunglasses back up his nose, wiping the sweat that had formed from the overbearing sun. Lando fans himself with a laminated menu, dabbing at his face with the bottom of his shirt. “Can you ask your boyfriend to get us into the vip area so we don’t have to sweat our balls off every lunch break?”

Oscar laughs at that, tugging his shirt out to allow more airflow to his stomach. “He’s not my boyfriend,” He hums, squinting down to the courts below where Logan’s in the middle of a practice session, his arm whipping back and forth with each serve.

“Not yet,” Lando teases.

“Not yet,” He nods in agreement, tossing his head back to shake his hair out of his face. It is hot, Lando’s got that much right. Sweat is pooling in his armpits and likely causing a relatively embarrassing spot on his shirt. It doesn’t matter, he doesn’t really care anyways. Logan certainly won't. He doesn’t care about Oscar’s exterior, just him.

Thinking about Logan gets an unintentional smile to appear on his face.

It’s not unnoticed by Lando though who’s usually pretty unobservant. “Aww, you’re blushing,” Lando strings his words out, nudging his index finger into the soft chub of Oscar’s cheek. “You like him so bad,” Oscar swats him away, hunching over to rest his elbows on the table and hopefully cover the red flush decorating his face.

His eyebrows flick upwards, his expressions mute in response to all the taunts Lando is clearly planning on throwing at him. “Obviously,” His eyebrows twist together and lips purse. “I sneak off with him during shifts to make out with him in the supply closet when his bedroom is rented out. Of fucking course I like the guy,” Lando’s face drops in pure shock.

“You what?” He shrieks, whacking Oscar’s arm about as hard as he possibly can. To Lando, Oscar is about the biggest virgin possibly. He even struggles to comprehend the fact that he and Logan have even kissed yet. Much less hookup on the daily. “That’s where you fucking disappear off to when you tell me you’re cleaning?”

His eyebrows raise up higher, a satisfied grin playing on his lips. “Yes,” His laugh is all breathy. “Not all the time, sometimes I actually am cleaning.” He insists, trying to calm Lando down slightly so his freak out doesn’t attract any unwanted attention.

“Oscar, you are such a slut,” He tuts, wrapping his mouth around the straw of his orange juice. “Not only are you dating the boss’ son, you sneak off to suck face with him.” Oscar rolls his eyes at the lewd comment.

“Not my boyfriend,” He corrects again, not bothering to say he’s wrong about ‘sucking face.’

“Didn’t deny being a slut,” The Brit stares him down out of the corner of his eye, his jaw tensed.

With a slight shrug of his shoulders, he gazes off blankly to where Logan is doing cool down stretches. “Yeah, didn’t deny it,” He muses. That gets him another swift whack on his arm from Lando whose mouth is gaping open.

His voice is hushed the next time he speaks, “How far have you two gone?” He sounds genuinely curious and not as if he’s trying to taunt him. Over the past few weeks since the day he and Logan met, Oscar and Lando’s relationship had strengthened to the point that they’d consider themselves good friends and would often text and hangout outside of work.

Puffing a tight stream of cool air up onto his top lip, Oscar decides how much he wants Lando to know. “Just makeouts so far,” His head tipped slightly, barely looking at Lando. It’s true, they haven’t gone any further than shoving their tongues down each other's faces, but it wasn’t just ‘innocent’, handless makeouts or anything.

Only a few days prior, Logan had sat in the Aussie’s lap as they both only had boxers on to conceal themselves. It had been everything Oscar needed, but he worried that the American wanted, or needed, more. He’d been louder, moaning and groaning as his mouth had explored each sliver of Oscar’s exposed neck, shoulders, and chest.

He worried that Logan would ask if he could take Oscar’s underwear off, and he worried more that he wouldn’t know how to say no.

“Not even a quick handie yet?” Lando jeers. It’s clearly meant to come off as lighthearted and teasing, but it just leaves a bitter taste on Oscar’s tongue. He really likes Logan, like more than he’s ever liked anyone else before, yet at the end of the day, there’s one really big problem about Logan,

He’s a boy.

It wasn’t something Oscar initially considered a problem in actuality. After their first kiss, Oscar’s head had been spinning too hard to even think about the logistics of them together. His whole life, the thought of being gay hadn’t ever been weirded out. He’d even liked a boy before, one of his friends back in Australia, Christian. But he’d never been with Christian, and Christian certainly didn’t like boys in the way Oscar did.

Logan was the first boy Oscar had ever kissed, the first one he’d liked who liked him back. Now he felt dirty, wrong. It felt like he was doing something wrong, immoral even. Maybe that’s part of the reason he hadn’t asked Logan to be his boyfriend yet, and he was grateful he hadn’t been asked in return.

“Shut up Lando,” The corners of his smile slump, his brown eyes creasing around the corners- usually formed from a too big smile. This time, it was the face of holding back tears. He wanted to cry because he wanted to make Logan feel good in the ways Lando teased him about. He wanted to be so insanely in love with the American and not feel disgusting for loving a boy.

Lando reaches across the table, picking up Oscar’s sprite and taking a long drink without asking. He didn’t care, he had other things clouding his tension to get mad over Lando once again taking without asking. “Ouch, was it not good?” Lando scoffs, “That’s gotta hurt mate,”

Oscar sees red. His eyes burn, his body- his face, neck, all the way from his chest down to his toes burn hot. “Shut the fuck up Lando,” His voice hitches at the end of the, the rest of the sentence forced out with a harsh breath. Rough and exhausted around the edges.

The Brit’s never seen Oscar like this. Oscar who wears the most bland expressions and attempted smiles as he goes around serving tables. Oscar who’s never raised his voice. Oscar who clamps his mouth shut with tightened lips whenever a customer bugs him. He just takes it. He’s not a guy who gets explosive, nor does he swear out of the context of being humorous

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Lando reaches his hand across the table, settling down on Oscar’s shoulder that’s closer to him. “Are you guys just.. not doing those kinds of things?” The way he says it sounds like he’s being overly careful and calculated as to not coax another bad reaction out of the brunet.

Upsetting Oscar is never his goal, in reality, he just wants to make him laugh. It may be kind of embarrassing, being a year and a half older than the Aussie, he thinks he should be the one that the younger is chasing for validation, but it’s really the opposite. He wants Oscar to like him, not like how he wants Carlos to like him, but he wants Oscar to feel that they’re close enough to speak about these things. Want to tell him about all the small things going on in his life and his relationship.

He partially wants to live vicariously through Oscar. He has what Lando wants, the boy he likes to like him back. Right now he can’t help but feel like Carlos is just stringing him along for the fun of it, or even if he likes guys.

Oscar’s eyes find a piece of fleece hanging onto the hem of his work issued polo and focus on it. It’s better then looking at Lando and certainly better then spotting Logan fucking prancing around as he hits each obnoxiously neon ball across the courts with the same elegance of a primaballerina. “No,” It’s only one word, yet he manages to shorten it further, almost to the point that it sounds like he didn’t even say anything. “I- We, yeah,” He gives up trying to explain, his fingers wrapping the rope of his drawstring jeans around his joints.

Lando shoots him a sympathetic smile, as if he needs sympathy. To Lando, it’s forced celibacy, like Logan is the one resisting each sexual advance he makes. In reality, Logan’s insinuated the wanting for something more than just kissing , but has consistently immediately stopped as soon as he saw the hesitation on Oscar’s face.

The Aussie can’t help but wonder if they’ll get to a point where Logan’s asked so many times that he just gives in and puts up with the shame, or Logan will be sick of the lack of intimacy and just leave him straight up.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to do anything with him,” Lando assures him, his thumbs pushing uncomfortably into the neon stitching on the polo’s shoulders. Neon likes tennis balls, tennis like Logan. Logan likes Oscar.

“I know that,” His voice softens, his face too. He doesn’t want to be mad at Lando, he really isn’t anyways. Maybe he’s mad at himself, maybe he’s mad at his mind, maybe he’s mad that he can’t fucking just like Logan and not hate himself for it, but he’s definitely not mad at either Lando or the American. “But, yeah. Thanks,” He doesn’t note that it sounds somewhat insincere, because it really isn’t.

Lando swallows loudly, his hands clasping together and hitting against the edge of the table to accompany it. The sigh that leaves his mouth is loud, comparable to the noise of a leaf blower. “And I’m sorry about that comment I made, it wasn’t.., yeah, wasn’t cool,” He puffs his lips out and blows a raspberry. Oscar grins in amusement, his eyes creasing in the way that he finds something funny this time.

“All good,” He slides his drink back over to himself, chewing down on the floor absently. “Also, stop stealing my drinks,” He flicks Lando’s bicep, his broken index fingernail getting caught in the fabric. His mum pesters him to cut his nails more regularly since they grow seemingly at a far quicker rate then the normal person. He keeps them long for Logan who can’t get enough of the way his nails scratch into his scalp.

Lando shrugs, his body slouching down in the overly stiff and structured chairs, “Nah, you’ve got boss’ son’s privilege, surely he gives you some kind of discount,” He hums, his cheek full of air and bulging, the way he does when he’s deep in thought. That or sticking his tongue out slightly.

“You’d be shocked that I get fuck all,” Oscar’s mouth twists downwards in a way he reckons makes him look a bit like a frog. “His dad doesn’t know about us, so me getting a bonus or raise would be sorta out of the blue,”

“Not super strange, you’re certainly a better worker than me,”

“And I’m on break half the time,”

“Yeah, can you work on that? I don’t like the extra work,”

Just as Oscar’s about to give Lando the most dramaticised eye roll- the ones that make his hurts burn, two hands slide down his chest and clasp together in the middle. It’s not a heavy touch, more just barely grazing down the fabric. Based on how the skin around Lando’s nose creases in disgust, Oscar knows exactly who’s behind him.

He tilts his head back, the crown of his head hitting against the defined abdomen of Logan. “Hey,” The American grins down at him, his blond hair nearly brown from sweat and his face filled with exhaustion from his workout. Oscar thinks he looks beautiful, and for the first time today, he truly feels at peace with how he feels for the older boy. Missed you, he murmurs, and Logan’s smile grows wider. ‘Me too,”

Lando looks like he’s about to stand up, make an excuse that he’s had enough of his lunch break and he’ll just clock back in, simply to allow the ‘couple’ to have some space. Oscar feels bad though, Lando shouldn’t have to leave each time Logan comes around. “Stay,” Oscar presses his hand to the back of Lando’s. “Please?” He mouths. It’s time for his friend and maybe soon to be boyfriend-mutual crush to become friendly.

The Brit’s eyes flick in between the pair before finally settling back into his seat reluctantly. His lips spread into a tight near grimace, his line of vision trying to only catch Oscar. “I don’t think he wants me here,” Logan murmurs, dipping down to bury his face in the Australian’s hair, a soft kiss accompanying it. “I’m gonna go have a shower, have fun with Lan,” He rubs Oscar’s shoulders, his voice void of any jealousy or condescendingness. That’s just how Logan is, always so understanding.

“No,” His hand goes to wrap around Logan’s wrist, who simply jerks it back. “Logan,” His voice is more hardened this time, his eyebrows knotting together and twisting upwards. Please, I wanna spend time with you, when you’re right next to me- everything feels so right. I need to feel right about this, Lo. There are so many words fighting to spill out of his mouth, to just completely word vomit all over the other boys, but he keeps his composure.

Logan smirks, rolling his eyes slightly. “You’ll see me later, Oz, chill out,” His hand swipes along Oscar’s fluff of hair before he sets off for his own room. The room which he and Oscar have spent endless hours in, and no offence to Lando right now, Oscar really wants to be in that room right now.

“He’s touchy,” Lando comments mindlessly as if he’s already forgotten the conversation the two of them had just before. A clipped exhale leaves his nose as he pushes the statement to the side of his mind, hopefully to never be brought back up. He likes that Logan is touchy, but Lando having to comment on every single moment the two share is beyond irritating.

Being left in a semi awkward silence after Oscar chooses to just not reply, they decide to get some food in before they clock off for the day. Some days, they end just about half an hour after their lunch break, which seems redundant, but also works out pretty well in their favour. They order two club sandwiches, Oscar keeping all the toppings on while Lando opps to only keep the cheese and all three meats.

When their meals are delivered, Lando eats more than half of Oscar’s serve of fries and all of his own obviously. Judging by the way he keeps stuffing his mouth every time he looks up and meets Oscar’s eyes, he clearly has something he wants to say. It takes until he’s crunching down on his final ice cube that he finally spits it out, “What’s it like kissing a boy?”

A lump of half chewed up white bread gets stuck on its way down Oscar’s throat. It’s thick, soaked with saliva and impossible to swallow. “Huh?” He gags around the mass, trying to cough it back up to his mouth so he can properly chew it and not suffocate.

Lando cringes, looking away as Oscar continues to heave, his back hunching over like a cat. “Is it different to kissing a girl? Better? Worse? Are their lips rougher or softer? Do they taste like boys, like is it obvious that is a b-” Oscar rests his palm on his chest, feeling it raising and dropping readily as result of his body reacting post choke.

With a quick move, he whacks his hand swiftly into the centre of Lando’s chest, pushing a wheeze past the Brit's lips. “Ow? Fuck you?” He groans, sliding down in his seat as he finally stops talking for long enough for Oscar to actually recover.

“Sorry mate, needed you to shut up and I was sort of… unable to speak,” He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, a string of saliva snapping when he then wipes his hand against his shirt. He sighs deeply, trying to mentally note down all of Lando’s many questions. “Uh, where’s this curiosity coming from? I thought you and Carlos were.. you know,””

The tan expanse of Lando’s neck burns a deep red, the tips of his ears tinting a similar colour. “Nah,” His hands clasp and rest in his lap, “I’m not sure if Carlos is actually.. gay,” The word sounds shameful coming out of his mouth, as if he’s not used to nor is he comfortable using it. “So, it looks like we’re dating most of the time to people, and we kind of act like we are- but I think he just sees it as a ‘bromance’ thing,”

“Shit,” Oscar’s eyes squint slightly as the setting sun hits his direct sight of vision, blinding him. He hadn’t realised how late it had gotten, and they were far over their lunch break time by this point. “Man, I’m sorry,” He reaches out an arm to rub Lando’s shoulder, about as far of physical comfort the two teenagers will go.

The older boy lurches away from the touch though, a weird smirk of humour dancing on his lips. “I’m not looking for comfort, I’m looking to know what kissing a boy feels like,” He reiterates, getting an eye roll of Oscar. Serves him right for trying to comfort Lando, Lando who can’t take a single thing seriously.

The aussie crosses his arms over his chest, slumping back against his seat and staring wistfully off into the distance. “Well, I think it probably just depends on the person,” Images and phantom feelings of Logan’s kisses blurring into kissing girls before him mix in Oscar’s mind. “I’ve only ever kissed one boy, so I can’t speak for what all boys in general feel like,”

Lando doesn’t look satisfied with the answer, understandable given how vague it had been. His cheeks puff out as he fills them with oxygen, finding a way to phrase his next question as to not offend Oscar. “Is Logan a good kisser then? Is he.. just is it different then when you’ve kissed girls?”

Oscar nods without a doubt in his mind, yes to both questions at that. It’s weird to place them together as comparisons as they’re so vastly dissimilar and unrelated. When he’d kissed girls, it was almost because he felt obliged to. In dares, at dances, during spin the bottle, games. He’d never looked at a girl and so desperately wondered what her lip gloss would taste like. With Logan, he craved to know how his hair smelt, how it would feel as he dragged his fingers through it, how his aftershave would smell as it tickled Oscar’s nostrils.

“I really like kissing Logan,” He nods again for a lack of creativity of what to do with his head. “More than I’ve liked kissing other people, but I just like Logan in general. If you genuinely like Carlos, I reckon he’ll be a better kisser than any girl you’ve kissed or any boy you might kiss that you don’t really like,” It’s not pleasant being this vulnerable and sharing so much to Lando, it isn’t even really when it’s Logan. Oscar just isn’t the type of guy who finds pleasure in divulging into each intimate aspect of his life to anyone who will listen, so rambling on about kissing his crush isn’t exactly pleasurable.

But just thinking about it is, he could easily think about Logan’s wet and sticky mouth attached to his own for years to come. Lando talks and he’s aware of it, he hears the muted rambling of his twisted British accent and sees the exaggerated movements of his mouth to match it, yet his mind is too distracted to take in any sort of information.

When his mind slowly flicks back into focus, he doesn’t pick up on a single thing Lando has been speaking about, instead becoming hyper aware of his body. His lips feel weird, his whole body does. Like an itch burying itself just below the surface. His index and middle finger reached up to his mouth, pinching his bottom lip and twisting it back and forth. It alleviates the tingle, but not overly. It’s not even an intense pain, just a dull one that can’t simply be ignored.

He needs Logan. His body is actually aching for Logan.

“Mate, you look really unwell,” Lando notices based on the way that Oscar is twitching, basically forcing himself to stay still and in his seat. Oscar does feel unwell, he actually feels hellish. The quicker he can escape this conversation, the better.

“I feel like shit,” He hums, his nails scraping against the cushion under his ass. “I need a shower, and a nap, and… nah, just those two things,” Lando gives him a knowing look, “And Logan,”

A barking laugh comes out of Lando who kicks at Oscar’s ankles until he’s pushing his chair out to get away. “Then go be with Logan, I’ll just watch the tennis and see if I can find someone better than Carlos,” There’s a satisfactory smirk on his face as he slides a pair of sunglasses down from on top of his head to the tip of his nose, a pair Oscar had somehow not seen the whole time they’d been sitting together and talking.

He doesn’t mention it though, just grabs his phone and wallet off the table, slamming a $10 bill on the table and rushing off. He’s halfway to Logan’s office/room/holiday bedroom when he realises a perk of working here is that he gets free food, meaning Lando is officially $10 richer and Oscar $10 poorer.

His fist is rapping on Logan’s door before he’s even comprehended that he’s actually made it there. There’s a shuffle that sounds on the other side, closer and closer until the door clicks open. “Hey Dad, I’m just-” Logan turns to look at who’s actually at the door and his eyes wide. “You are not my father,”

Oscar wants to make a retort of how awkward it would be if he was, but his mouth seems to have more control over his actions than his mind. His right hand grips at Logan’s mess of ungelled blond hair, the lighter ends peeking out between his fingers. His mouth is hot and heavy on Logan’s, so desperate and dominant it feels like he’s trying to consume the American.

“Fucking hell Osc,” His rough is rough and breathless, debauched around the edges, “What’s going on, baby?” Desire pools in Oscar’s stomach purely from the way Logan’s American accent melts with the word. “So needy,”

Oscar slides his hand up the blond’s shirt, light dustings of pale hair brushing against his palm. Logan’s skin is warm, so warm. He feels like a fireplace, being bundled up in a thick blanket while snow pounds outside. Oscar can’t get enough of him, he’s like a drug.

His teeth nip against Logan’s plump bottom lip, pulling a pleasured groan from his mouth. Logan’s hands trail up Oscar’s back, the touch of his fingertips sending burning shots of sinful lust through his body. “I- fuck you for leaving me with Lando, that conversation was awful,” His slender fingers clench together to trap bundles of hair between each digit, effectively helping to yank Logan off him.

He’s all blushy at the comment, unable to even pretend he’s apologetic. “Was that my punishment for abandoning you, then?” He mocks, his mouth in a twisted up grin against Oscar’s lips. A shaky nod of confirmation gets him to keep going, “You’re really shit at punishments in that case, because that was really good,” Hands grip Oscar’s hip, holding him in place to take control back over the scenario.

It’s exactly how each makeout goes, taking turns being the dominant one- fighting for control. It shows on the court too, a steadily improving tennis player of Oscar getting increasingly more eager and confident to show off to Logan, portraying himself as the epitome of professional tennis.

He might not quite have the refined talent yet, but he has the confidence to carry him for miles.

Within a matter of moments, Oscar somehow caves and gives Logan the satisfaction of leading. The older needed that, based on how his tongue mercilessly shoves into Oscar’s mouth and his lips ram aimlessly into the brunet. Logan had got him onto the bed, pinned underneath him.

His thighs bracket Oscar’s lower body, knees into the soft flesh that pads over the aussie’s hips. He won’t say it aloud, given Oscar gets all blushy, in an embarrassed and unpleasant way whenever Logan mentions just how much he likes that about his hips, but they just might be his favourite thing about the younger’s body. The softness, how squishy they are, fucking biteable.

Logan would gladly leave endless hickeys on that patch of his skin, littering the pale untanned spots of his usually covered body. Yet, those thoughts are reserved for late nights, those where he allows the sinful thoughts he has for the boy to run wild. He doesn’t want to scare Oscar away with those thoughts, keeping them hidden within the heated space his weighted blanket creates, with his heavy pants trapped underneath the sheets.

And as much as he wants to keep going, keep Oscar’s plush lips up against his own, he’s far too hard to maintain any normality, so he pushes away, struggling to get off of Oscar. “Sorry,” His voice breaks as his breathing fights to be louder. “I’m just,” They both glance down, “yeah,”

Oscar gets it, he doesn’t get angry. He’s happy that Logan’s able to articulate when they need to stop. Deep down, they probably both wish they could take it further, but there’s lingering doubt playing in both of their minds. For Logan, it’s the fear of not being accepted by others. For Oscar, it’s internal. “Do you just wanna cuddle?”

Oscar buries his nose into the crook of Logan’s neck, his senses flooded with the sharp taste of a cologne that costs more than he earns in a year. Well. Almost. It’s his favourite scent in the whole world, sharp tones of amber and wood. If he ever has enough money at one time, he’ll buy the scent, wear it each day just to think of the blond. “I’m sweaty,” He murmurs back, feeling an uncomfortable patch of sweat seeping from his polo back onto the space just between where his shoulder blades meet.

“Well, I like when you’re sweaty then. You smell good too,” He plants a peck to the top of his head, followed by another, and another, and another. Each more slobbery and wet then the last. It’s the most annoying thing he does, covering Oscar in drooling kisses that coat him in rings of spit.

“Loooo,” He groans, wiggling out of his forever tightening hold. Oscar’s only able to turn around, his back planted to Logan’s chest while he continues to be attacked by wet kisses. “Stop, that’s so gross,” Logan’s insistent, both his hands moving to link around his tummy so he can’t leave and get away from the kisses. He does however move where he leaves them, trailing down the side of his face down the side and back of his neck.

He hums lowly, his nails hitching up the thick fabric of Oscar’s shirt with ease. “Can I give you a hickey?” It’s undiscovered territory, not even something that’s met the air between them. It’s a thought Logan keeps to himself and only allows it to come to the front of his mind past midnight. But it’s so prevalent recently, being the only tangible thought that crosses his mind throughout the day.

Fuck the fear of potentially scaring off Oscar with the request- he’ll never know if he never asks.

“Y-yeah,” That’s all it takes for Logan’s lips to seal around a patch of pale skin on the back of his neck. The contact sparks goosebumps to shoot down Oscar’s arms and legs, pale brown hair sticking directly upwards. His teeth graze gently, trying to remember the last time he’d done this. He’s had next to no experience with another person, even less than Oscar, so it’s easier to think of articles he’d read about doing this in his early stages of puberty.

A pair of hands tangle up in his mop of hair, pulling him infinitely closer, “Mate,” Oscar moans. Logan finds himself back in the awkward situation from earlier with the tone of his shaking voice. His hips roll upwards, not attempting to insinuate anything, but more to alleviate the aching pressure on the area.

It must feel good for the younger boy as his hips roll back to meet the motion, the two of them acting like dogs in heat. “St-stop,” Logan laughs, pulling Oscar’s face closer to his, straining the Australian's neck who has to look over his shoulder to join the kiss. “You’re too hot Oz, I’m so hard,” It feels nice to admit that openly, especially when nothing needs to be done about it. It’s a statement, merely an observation. He’s not asking for Oscar to open his mouth or to cup his hand to help him out, and it takes off some pressure he’s been feeling.

Oscar reacts with a smile, a flattered one at that. Curiously, his gentle touch grazes the spot on his neck, wincing pleasantly at the sting. “Does it look good?” Logan examines the darkening splodge, looking satisfied with his word. It’s currently a ferrari red, but it’ll likely die down to a mauve as hours turn to days.

He’ll just need to be cautious about his fashion choices for the next week or so- opt for more sweaters and hoodies, even though the weather is excruciatingly hot. “Yeah,” It looks hot, hot enough for Logan to want to create a million more. “I like it,”

Oscar palms at the spot, his eyes fluttering shut at the singe of the bite. It’s good, insatiably good. He wants hickeys on every inch of his body if they feel this good. It would also mean being somewhat attached to Logan- mouth to skin. Now that is hot.

His arms loop back around Oscar’s waist, pulling him half onto his lap until he gives up, lying down with Oscar’s back flush to his chest. He’s able to smell Oscar’s hair like this, the sweet and sour apple scent of his shampoo and the natural clean ocean smell that is him. His mind becomes gradually more foggy, any thought besides the heavy mass of the boy on top of him is so distant.

That is until a familiar voice brings him back to life. “Logan. Hunter. Sargeant.” And it’s definitely not coming from the body ontop of him.

Fuck, shit, fuck

Shit.

Oscar’s muscles go rigid, scrambling to get off Logan from where his legs have been trapping one of the American's knees in between. He whacks the back of his neck, quickly covering up the hickey. He feels like a preteen getting caught by his parents while watching a MA 15+ or R 18+ movie, or staying up far past his bedtime playing on the switch. Yet this time, he’s getting caught on top of the boy he’s basically dating, by said boy’s boyfriend.

And worst of all, it’s his literal boss.

“Dad,” His voice comes out as a squeak, far more vulnerable and scared then Oscar’s ever heard him. He knew Logan had doubts about how and when to come out to his parents, but he knew it wouldn’t be for a while.

He’d just had that very privilege stripped from him.

Daniel looks like he’s about to say something rather harshly worded to his son until his eyes flicker to the other boy, his lips pursing and eyebrows wiggling in confusion. “Piastri?”

“Sir,”

“Oscar?”

“Yes, Sir,”

“Oscar Piastri?,”

“Yes, Sir,”

Daniel looks completely bewildered, even in the dim lighting of the room, his expression incredulous. His stare is pulled from Oscar, moving back to his son. “Logan, explain yourself,” The tone isn’t as jarring as either boy would’ve expected out of him given the situation, but it still feels Logan with dread and unease.

He wishes he could bury his face back into the tight muscles that ripple across Oscar’s back, submerge himself in the salty aroma of him and be so blissfully unaware of anything else in the world. He craves that comfort back, to be so far away from here- mentally and physically. “I don't know how,” It’s not a lie per say.

He’s not sure just how much he should go into detail about. Calling it a hookup or friends with benefits situation is crude to say to his father and insulting to Oscar, but saying their dating is a lie. His father’s face doesn’t flicker in reaction, so he has to come up with something. “Oscar and I enjoy spending time together, and we like one another,” Yeah, that’s good enough.

His father looks less than pleased, but he doesn’t look fuming. He’s not red in the face, puffing air out of his bottom lip like whenever he used to religiously watch Logan’s tennis matches, bunching his hands up into fists and yelling out each time Logan made a mistake. So, he really can’t be that mad. “Sorry Oscar, I would like to talk to my son individually,”

Oscar has never been more glad to be fully dressed. He crawls off the bed, his toes curl as his feet hit the cold hardwood floor. His instincts tell him to give Logan a little peck, a kiss to say we’ll talk soon, but it hardly feels appropriate, so he settles with giving him a final look back over his shoulder before the door clicks shut in his face.

A swirl of discomfort settles in the bottom of his stomach, and his sandwich from earlier feels as if it's about to make a reappearance. He compresses the thought, his feet quickly padding away from the door and into the storage room. Him and Logan’s storage room. There’s a few resounding smells encasing him as the door snaps closed after him- some organic peanut butter, burnt caramel, and vanilla extract from a glass bottle that had smashed during one of their mid-work/practice makeout sessions in here, leaving the brown liquid to seep into the wooden shelves below.

Oscar sinks to his knees, his back planted up against a gas tank. The room feels tight around him and how he and Logan are able to both comfortably stand in here seems impossible right now. He feels trapped, yet so comforted and safe. It’s like a hug, just too tight to the point that it’s unpleasant, yet, it is still a hug. He wishes it was one of Logan’s overbearing, too tight hugs. The ones he claims to hate, the ones he weasles his way out of, feigning hatred for public physical affection. He hopes Mr Sargeant will come around, that he’ll allow Logan to continue to spend time with Oscar.

Yet, right now, he needs fresh air, he needs to be rid of all the smells that are authentically Logan. He makes a beeline for the infamous table at which he’d seen Logan from for the first time, where he’d daydreamed about the American- watching him play on the court, where he’d been interrupted during his lunch break a few too many times with a soft kiss to his forehead. He clocks as soon as the table is in sight that the 10 dollar note he’d left Lando is still there, clearly the brit had done the right and left it.

But, it was an idiotic decision just leaving money on an abandoned table. Lucky, but so stupid.

He takes the seat he always does, the one that gives him the perfect view of the court Logan always plays at. From the distance he’s at, he can't quite see the deep smile lines he adores so much, or the piercing blue eyes that he sees in his dreams, but the golden strands on top of his head are enough of a sight to keep him absolutely enamoured.

Thinking about all of this- Oscar doesn’t think it’s the worst thing ever that people might find out about the two of them. He’d love to show Logan off, have a voice seeping with pride when he flaunts that the Logan Sargeant is all his. That’s all he wants, maybe it’s even all he’s wanted for a while.

Sitting down feels wrong, there’s still that emptiness inside of him, a buzzing distraction that’s patiently waiting for Logan to emerge from his room to give him the verdict- are they even allowed to hang out from now on?

A sinking realisation burrows itself deep in his bones, what if he loses his job over this? It’s breaking work policy, it must be. God, he’s gonna get fired, he’s gonna lose his job. There won’t be a single thing connecting Oscar to Logan- he’ll lose him. He’ll lose him before he’s even really had him.

So he does the only logical thing that he knows will calm the panic in his head. He runs down to the court, picking up a free racquet and a few lone balls, practising his serves. They’re awful, the swings are too hard and uncontrolled, sending each neon globe into varying directions. Each thwack helps return his pounding heart rate back to a normal pulse, the shallow sharp breathing he’s adapted to beginning to ease up.

He looks up to the sky, squinting to see if rain is actually falling on him or if he’s just absurdly sweaty. It doesn’t take long to realise neither option is right- he’s crying. Fat, hot tears spill down his cheeks, his quivering bottom lip pierced by his top teeth in an attempt to keep it in place. He doesn’t want to cry, doesn’t want to let the world know just how scared all of this makes him. Logan scares him, to a degree. He’s scared of just how much he loves the American and how much it would absolutely kill him if he didn’t get to ever be with him.

So he keeps hitting, a new feeling and compressed though coming out with each one.

Thwack, don’t leave me Logan.

Thwack, Mr Sargeant, I promise to be more attentive during work hours and take less breaks if you allow me to keep seeing your son.

Thwack, I wanna be with you Logan, more than I’ve ever wanted anything.

Thwack, I wish this all made sense to me.

Thwack, I wish I wasn’t scared to be happy.

Thwack, I don’t want to experience happiness if I can’t share it with Logan.

Thwack, I love Logan. Thwack. Thwack. Thwack. I. Love. Logan.

He loves Logan.

Two hands clasp around his own, guiding his swing towards the next ball the machine catapults out directly forward, an objectively perfect swing. It doesn’t a single word for him to identify just who it is. “Fuck, Lo,” He turns around without a single thought, burying his face into the older’s neck. “What did he say?”

The grin on his face speaks a million words, “He said we need to learn to lock the door, but otherwise- we’re all good, Oz,” Both of their cheeks hurt from how wide their smiles stretch across their faces. Oscar is smashing his face into the blond’s before he even realises he’s doing it. It’s their first kiss out in the open, and even though no one else is around to see it, it’s a step.

There’s so much fondness sparkling in Logan’s eyes as Oscar pulls away, his usually pale lips tinted a peachy pink, spit spread across to look glossy. “I’ll never get over those kisses,” A million small pecks follow that one, a few lasting slightly longer than the last.

Confession pricks at Oscar’s skin, forcing its way up his throat, trying to pry his mouth open and bring itself to light. He can’t hold it back much longer, nor does he want to. He isn’t willing to find himself in another situation where he worries whether he’ll have Logan ever again, “I love you, Logan,” Nothing has felt more right to say, and he’s not scared to either.

“I love you too, Osc,” Looks like Logan might be suffering from guessing whether it’s raining or not based on the clear strips staining his cheeks. His hands bunch up in Oscar’s hair, wisps of brunette hair tangling over his knuckles. “A whole fucking lot,” The world feels still when he says it, like everything he’s ever wanted has clicked into place. It’s right, it’s perfect, it’s them.

But something is missing.

“Will you be my boyfriend?”

A mouth full of once braces-yielding straight teeth gleams right at him, “Yes Oscar, I would love to be your boyfriend,” He grins, pulling him back into one of the sloppy kisses he claims to hate so very much, yet there’s nothing he loves more than it right now.

Well, except for Logan.

#logan sargeant #oscar piastri #f1 #formula1 #formula one #mclaren #williams racing #lando norris #carlos sainz #loscar #logan x oscar #chat we need more loscar gifs #because i cant just use this damn one every time

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