#chapter 4 preview

----- spicy preview -----

When Kai Chisaki stepped out of the shadows, discarding his plague mask, jacket, tie, shoe and began to take off the holster and the guns hidden at his waist and behind his back as a routine habit, he paused. Your scent filled his lungs. He'd expected you to sleep within your own master suit he'd painstakingly decorated for you, given your recommendations for the perfect bridal suit and marriage bed... only for you to stumble into his own personal bed, instead? His cold eyes locked on your peacefully sleeping face. Oxygen seemed to have left the room and filled it with your essence, your scent and his own mixing. Kai can smell you through his cloth mask, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as every muscle and nerve ending within the mob boss's body came alive, standing on end and jolting awake all at once. Fuck. He inwardly grumbles, trying to quickly piece together why you were here, right now within his own bedroom. Did you have a nightmare? Were you lonely already? Did you need the scent of him already to comfort you within the confinements of his estate, or were you eager for him to claim you?

Seems you were bolder than he thought.

You were no stereotypical yakuza princess, arrogant and born into the life of hollow, backstabbing, aristocratic socialites scrambling to get a taste of him.

You were a woman with soft, generous curves, possessing a full figure, a rare and unapologetic beauty, which no other female had ever tempted him before. Your own star within billions of starlight and moonlight, hidden beneath the trash and violence of his world. Driving Kai Chisaki to the brink of madness in less than thirty days since your last meeting. The rest of the world saw Kai Chisaki, Overhaul, as a merciless monster; he wanted you to see the man behind the monster, the beast with no heart. He wanted to spoil you rotten yet keep you tethered to him for all time. Permanently, unmistakably his. Which you were. His omega, his fated and destined female. His and his alone. The Omega, which had secretly made the yakuza boss want to pamper and worship for hours, day or night. Feast on the apex of your sex as you cried out his name in pleasure and euphoria in a moaning, writhing mess, defiling his bed and sanctuary with your pure, wet slick and juices before spilling down his mouth, soaking his finger and wetting and creaming on his cock.

He's dreamed about you.

You've haunted him.

Bewitched him.

on the same frequency

-.-. .... .- .--. - . .-. / ....-

December 25, 1995

“But… ten years is a long time—I… I haven’t even known you for ten years yet.”

Shit. The thought hadn’t even occurred to him—that Will had already been gone for longer than the years they had together. And it makes him sick to think about it—how little time they had. Especially when some of his earliest memories of Will were so fuzzy now. And then thinking about just how young Will was when he died—only three months shy from turning fifteen. It just wasn’t fair.

December 26, 1985

And with that thought, Will sets his half eaten bowl of cereal down on the counter and without hesitation he runs out back to the shed where his mother kept a rifle—grabbing it off the wall and then sets it on the workbench while he searches around for a box of ammunition. Once he finds it, he loads it up with a pair of shaky hands, and then cautiously returns to the house. Will locks the back door and then double checks the front door too, and for good measure he ensures that all the windows are locked with the curtains drawn as well. To say he was paranoid was an understatement. But even though everything was secured and he was now armed, he still felt vulnerable. Maybe it was just his anxiety talking, but there was an eeriness in being all alone. And if not for the ticking of the clock on the wall in the living room, the house would be dead silent, which didn’t help his nerves at all.

Tick, tock, tick, tock, tick…

🎶 a song from chapter four 🎶

rating: mature

tags: alternate universe, not canon compliant, major character death, grief/mourning, ptsd, blood and injury, supernatural elements, time shenanigans, butterfly effect, thriller, angst with a happy ending

release date: 11/26/2023

✨ previous chapter previews ✨

ch1 | ch2 | ch3

tagging:

@kaiminluu @greenfiend @total-serene560 @across-thestars @boahey @magentamee @daydreams-in-the-moonlight @soyboystan @foodiewithdahoodie @booksandpaperss @likegoldintheair @mandycantdecide @hazmatazz @sparks-olivarpente @1-tehe-1 @lucasvenkman @rebellius @maru-chu @septembr-moon @kamomillatea

Humming slightly, Cosmic waltzed into the lounge room behind Scrabby and promptly knelt down, opening a cupboard in some far corner. Scrabby couldn't see what the owl was doing particularly effectively from his current angle but he could hear the unmistakable sound of someone pulling everything out of a cabinet and haphazardly spreading things out across the ground. When exactly that became an easily identifiable noise, Scrabby had no clue. But despite that, he was strangely accurate in his assumption. 

Behind? Catch up HERE 😊

Gorgeous moodboard created by @crownofstardustandbone @therollingstonys thank you so much! 💖

********

Reaching for the bag of homemade trail mix that he and Peter had made the day before and a bottle of Powerade, Steve shoved a handful into his mouth as he unzipped the special pocket that Tony sewed into his uniform, looking for the small sketchbook and pencil that he always carried with him. He opened it to the front page, to the sketch of Tony and Peter that he’d drawn from the very first photograph he ever took of the two of them, only hours after Peter had taught him how to take pictures with his new phone. Steve’s throat tightened as he examined it, which he attempted to remedy with a big sip of his Powerade. Even now, after taking literally thousands of photographs, and sketching and painting dozens of drawings, this little drawing was still one of Steve’s very favourite sketches of his beloved husband and son.

It had been about a week or so after they had all returned to the Malibu house from Afghanistan. Peter had been helping Steve get accustomed to life in the twenty-first century, while Tony had been spending nearly all of his time down in his garage workshop, building the first of his eventual army of armoured suits and plotting his revenge on the Ten Rings. Steve and Peter had made dinner that evening, and, after practically dragging Tony upstairs to eat with them, Peter had then proceeded to beg him to watch a movie afterwards, telling him that he hadn’t seen him more than a few minutes since they’d been back.

And the two of them hadn’t even lasted for half the movie before they were both sound asleep, with Peter wrapped up in Tony’s arms and his head resting on his chest, off to the side so as to avoid pressing on the arc reactor.

Tears pricked Steve’s eyes at the memory, of how sweet they had looked, and how envious he had been. He had already been trying to deny it by then, trying to bury deep down just how deeply attached he was to them both, and, based on what Tony told him later on, doing a very poor job of it.

“You're a terrible liar, babe,” Tony had told him multiple times over the course of their relationship. “You and Pete both. You're both just too… good.”

And while Steve still wasn’t sure if he agreed, he also knew better than to argue.

A soft smile spread across Steve’s lips as he stared at the drawing, trailing his fingertip across Peter’s round cheek smashed up against Tony’s side. Peter’s cheeks weren’t quite as round anymore, and his jawline had sharpened up a bit more over the summer as well, only adding to how much he resembled Tony.

His two precious boys, who he loved more than life itself.

*

Sighing, John crossed the room and sat across from him.  “Sherlock… I know things have been… well, ‘difficult’ seems like the understatement of the century.  You’ve been through hell these past few days, and I can’t imagine how that feels.  But I do know how it feels to love a woman…” he paused as his eyes burned with tears, “…and then to lose her.  It’s… it’s the kind of agony I wouldn’t wish on anyone, least of all my best friend.”

Oh wow, you guys, it’s been difficult to write this chapter for a lot of reasons, but I’m nearly done! I figured I’d give you all a little taste of what’s gonna happen in this next chapter, and most of you wanted a written preview, so here we are! Let me know what you think!!! I always love hearing from you guys. 

* * *

“I think that’s the last of them,” you pant, wiping a few beads of sweat from your forehead as you straighten up. The friendly sophomore who volunteered to help you drops the box she’s carrying on your bare mattress with a little grunt, turning to you with a smile.

“Well, if you need anymore help, just let me know! I live just down the hall.”

You smile back at her, “You really are an angel for helping me move in. You’re the RA for this floor, right?”

“Yep,” she nods, pointing at the plastic name tag dangling from the lanyard around her neck, “Kiera, Room 321, at your service!”

“How do you feel about being a sophomore in a building full of seniors?” you ask, beginning to unpack your clothes.

“A little nervous, if I’m honest,” she says softly, “you guys are all cool and smart and I’m just some dorky sophomore who’s job it is to make sure that you all don’t die.”

“Well, I promise that I won’t die on you,” you giggle, “and everyone I know who is living on this floor is pretty chill. I think the worst thing you’ll have to keep an eye out for is a repeat incident of the Walden Shitter.”

“The uh….the what?” Kiera asks, her eyes widening in confusion.

“My freshman year, there was a student who kept um…relieving themselves in buckets and leaving said buckets all over Walden Hall. It was disgusting.”

“Did they ever catch them?” the RA squeaks out.

“Nah,” you giggle, “but the Res Life office did send a hilarious email to the entire campus, and the Shitter was dormant after that. They’ve probably graduated by now. Unless, of course, the Shitter is in my class. Then they could even be living here in Stafford!”

Kiera stares at you, unsure if you’re joking or not. You smile at her, unfolding your tapestry.

“I think the best part of being a senior so far is passing on the lore to the young’uns like you,” you tease.

“Well, if the Shitter makes a reappearance, I’m blaming you,” she laughs back, “thanks for the heads-up, I guess? Anyways, I’ll get out of your hair, but I’ll see you around (Y/N)!”

You give her a little wave as she trots out of your room. It feels weird to have a student two years younger than you in charge of your floor, but you don’t envy her. In your previous three years of college, you’ve seen some really heinous situations that RAs have had to deal with. You smile to yourself thinking about the time someone set a notice board on fire in the student center during sophomore year. College really is a fucking zoo sometimes.

A familiar voice drifting in through your open window snaps you out of your reminiscing.

“…and on the left we have Stafford, one of the most popular dorms on campus. It’s mostly full of seniors though, so I’d call it more of a retirement home than a dorm! That was a bad joke, okay, yikes…moving on….”

You dart to the window, leaning out and craning your neck to see a mop of auburn hair passing by.

“JOSEPH FRANCIS MAZZELLO, YOU BETTER STOP RIGHT THERE!” you shriek, waving like a madwoman.

Joe turns around and looks up at the dorm with confusion, scanning the windows to see who is yelling at him. The moment he catches your eye, you spin on your heels and run out of your room and down the stairs, throwing open the heavy front door and sprinting down the path. You leap at Joe, enveloping him in a huge hug.

“I fucking missed you!” you breathe out, squeezing him tightly.

“It’s good to see you too,” Joe smiles at you, before clearing his throat. You’re suddenly very aware of the group of freshman staring at you, your arms wrapped around their orientation leader.  You laugh awkwardly, stepping back from your friend.

“Hi everyone, um…welcome to campus!” you offer, smiling at them, “uh…I’m (Y/N), I’m a senior here. Sorry, I just got so excited to see Joe! You know, these are the kinds of friendships you’ll make here at…”

“Why don’t you leave the cheesy Dean of Students-style speeches to me, huh?” Joe mercifully cuts you off with a chuckle, squeezing your arm lightly, “don’t wanna ruin your cool-kid senior façade now, do you?”

“As if I ever had that,” you snort, rolling your eyes at Joe before turning back to the freshman, “you all are seriously lucky to have this dork as your OL, he’s the best guy on campus.”

Joe blushes a little at that, digging his toe into the dirt.

“Thanks, (Y/N). Uh, we gotta keep moving though, there’s a barbeque in twenty minutes that we can’t be late for.”

“Oh, can I meet you there?” you ask, “I’m starving, and I can’t wait to catch up with you!”

“I’ll be working,” Joe states plainly, “and it’s just for new students.”

“And what, you won’t sneak me in?” you tease, poking his shoulder.

“No, I won’t,” he says through gritted teeth, looking at his orientation group, “I can’t, (Y/N).”

Your smile falls from your lips and you take a step away from Joe, shocked by his change in tone. Last year, Joe would have offered to sneak you into the barbeque before you could even ask. Maybe it’s just the fact that he’s supposed to be a good example to the new kids. Or maybe it’s because…

You shake your head, plastering another smile across your face, before responding “Of course, I was just joking, Joe! Well, I’ll let you guys get on with your tour, I guess. Um, text me later, okay?”

Joe nods and waves as you walk back to the front door of Stafford. As he walks off with his gaggle of excited freshman, you feel a pang in your heart. A naïve part of you had hoped that perhaps Joe’s lack of communication this summer was just because he was busy with his internship, but it’s pretty obvious now that something is very wrong between the two of you. The idea of Joe hating you is too much to bear. Who is going to call you for 2am pizza parties? Who is going to go to Senior Ball with you? Who is going to be your rock for this final tumultuous and all-important year of college?

There’s only one other person on campus you want to talk to right now. You pull up your video chat app, clicking on Sage’s icon. A few rings later, her beautiful chocolate-brown curls fill the screen, and you smile.

“Hey, gorgeous.”

* * *

Thank you to my wonderful beta @sunsetsrmydreams . I’d still be umming and ahing if it wasn’t for this precious person.

I’m getting Chapter 4 ready to post on AO3 but in the meantime, here is a little preview. 

~~~~~

Feeling lost, I raise my head up to the sky and let the tears fall down my face as I stare mindlessly towards the clouds that are slowly moving above me. I’m suddenly drawn to a noise that seems to have come from the attic window above the bakery.

My head turns quickly to the sound and my eyes lock almost instantly to the lone figure of a young man standing at the window. He doesn’t move, neither do I.