#cold brewing go mmmm

[cemetery-baccanal]

passing out for six hours after the black butler inspired birthday picnic was not on the docket but i cannot be mad about it.

[notmyneighbor]

resistance | doppel francis x female reader

part 2/?

words | 5.3k

cw | explicit sexual content

ao3 link

taglist | @jazminetoad @uhnanix @fangwh0r3 @zenxvii @mistrosa

You don’t sleep much that first evening with the doppelganger in the next room.

You glare at the alarm clock and shut it off before it has a chance to sound the next morning. Might as well start getting ready for work. You enter the shower before the water has a chance to run warm, thinking maybe the shock of the cold will make you feel more alert. After that brisk cleansing you return to your bedroom, glancing down the hall on the way by, clutching your bath towel tightly around you, but you don’t hear your guest stirring yet.

You get dressed—deciding on a dress today, might as well start with the summer wardrobe now—then prod your skin as you frown at your appearance in the mirror. You’ve got bags under your eyes to match Francis’ this morning. Well, you’d just have to hope the puffiness would resolve later. Concealer will have to do for now.

The replicant seems to have had no such trouble sleeping, you discover as you enter the living room. His eyes are closed, chest rising and falling evenly in a slow, gentle rhythm, one arm draped lazily over the side of the couch, fingers brushing the floor, blanket in a rumpled mess across his midsection. You’d never guess in a million years that this slumbering person was really a doppelganger, a monster hiding inside the disguise of a man.

You begin making a quick breakfast in the kitchen, starting with the coffee maker. It isn’t long before your new roommate appears in the doorway, blinking drowsily and digging the heel of one hand against his eyes. It’s such an oddly human gesture. So…normal.

“Good morning.” You’ve finished pressing the paper filter into the machine, spooning a heap of coffee grounds inside, the water already measured and poured and the glass pot sitting on the burner. You normally only make a single cup for yourself, and you’ve no idea if the doppel will be interested, but you decide you’ll make it and offer it anyway.

“Mmmm,” he hums, dragging a hand through his mussed hair. You wonder if any of these mannerisms belong to Francis. Just exactly how much are these doppels able to replicate?

“You didn’t have to get up this early. I just have to go to work.” You point to the coffee maker. “Want a cup?”

“I guess. I’ve never had it before.”

You get another mug down from the cupboard, drumming your nails nervously on the counter while you wait. Francis’ clone is leaning against the doorframe, arms folded, watching you, and it’s making you feel self conscious. You try not to stare too much at all that bare skin he’s flashing.

At last the machine hisses and sputters and begins dripping brown liquid and the aroma of brewing coffee fills the air.

“That smells good,” he murmurs.

You fill his mug three quarters full. “I don’t know how you take it. I mean, you don’t either, obviously, if you’ve never had it before.” You add a spoonful of sugar and pour some cream in and stir, handing the mug to the doppel.

He takes a tentative sip. “Bitter,” he says. “And hot.”

“More sugar, then. You’ve got a sweet tooth, I think. And let it cool for a minute before you take another sip.”

He frowns over the term you’ve used and you elaborate. “It means you favor things that are sweet. Prefer them.”

“Mmmm.” He still looks drowsy. It’s amazing how much he sounds like his human counterpart. Francis Mosses was a man of few words. Stop comparing him to Francis. To humans. He’s neither, you remind yourself.

“Have a seat at the table. It’s just going to be cereal and toast, I’m afraid. I don’t typically cook before work.”

You watch the imposter milkman slouch into the same chair he’d used the previous evening. How strange it was to see a man occupying your kitchen like this. Well, not a man; a male, you suppose, recalling your silent reprimand from moments before. Dropping down, spreading out. He takes up room, the way only one of that gender can. Dominating. The table looks so much smaller with him sitting at it, elbows resting on the Formica table until he moves one arm to lazily scratch at some itch on his chest, the thin white shirt rumpling and shifting. Speaking of clothing…

“I’ll try to find you something else to wear this weekend. I checked the tags on your uniform already. Washed in the sink and hung up to dry in the bathroom. I know it’s not ideal, but for now…”

“Thank you.”

You fill two bowls with cereal and add milk, cutting up the last of the strawberries from the pint in the refrigerator and slotting another pair of bread slices into the toaster after the first set is finished and buttered, setting everything in front of the doppel, along with a spoon and a much sweeter cup of coffee. He takes another hesitant sip, then nods. “Better.”

“There’s leftovers in the fridge for lunch. Or you can make a sandwich.” You’re not sure if he even knows what that is. You suppose it’s a little cruel to make him eat the remains of last night’s dinner cold, but there’s no way you’re letting him use the oven.

The doppelganger eyes the red seeded fruit sliced over his cereal curiously, lifting one free and munching thoughtfully. He hums appreciatively and you add that to your mental list of things he likes. Why does it matter what he likes?

You finally join him at the table, the rest of your meal ready. “What are you going to do all day?”

“I don’t know yet. Just lay low and wait for you to return, I suppose.”

“And then what?”

He’s making short work of the cereal, you notice. Toast, too. Maybe you should offer more. Maybe he needs larger portions. Why are you being so hospitable?

“Then you teach me another recipe.”

“Alright.” You take a bite of buttered toast.

“No vegetables,” he adds.

You smile softly. “They’re good for you. Maybe we can find some you’ll like.”

“Then more cake?” He sounds hopeful.

“It’s gone, but we can bake something else. I only made a small one because I wasn’t expecting company.”

He nods, finishing the rest of his coffee.

You fiddle with the handle of your spoon, trying to think of something else to say. “Were there other doppels there with you? Inside the DDD building?”

“Not that I’m aware. I wasn’t looking, though. I just got out.”

“Did you kill the men?”

He lets his utensil drop, striking the side of the now empty ceramic bowl loudly. “What do you think?”

You lower your eyes. It had been easy to pretend, for a moment there, that he was peaceful. That this was normal. How convincing and manipulative these beings are, you think. How terrible.

“What would you have had me do? I didn’t ask to be taken.”

“I know,” you mumble, wishing you hadn’t mentioned the topic to begin with.

The remainder of breakfast continues in silence. You bring the soiled cups and dishes to the sink, glancing at the clock on the wall. Definitely time to leave for work. You’re running a bit behind, actually. You’re not used to having a second person here to wait on, doing double of everything. The doppelganger follows you to the front door.

“I’ll be home around five, if there isn’t too much paperwork. I’m not planning on staying as late as I did yesterday.”

“Imagine if you hadn’t. Then I wouldn’t be here right now. I’m sure you’re wishing now that you’d left sooner.” There’s a layer of acidity there that he doesn’t bother masking.

Your eyes meet his. “You murder humans. Eat us. How else do you expect me to react?”

“Your kind slaughters animals. Do they deserve it?”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

“Animals are bred to be consumed, for us to survive…”

“And do they not deserve a chance to survive? Do they not have a right to exist as much as you? Don’t answer, because I can see it clearly. You think they’re of lesser value than humans. Just like the doppels.”

“I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to,” the mimic retorts bitterly.

“Listen. I don’t know how long you’re going to be hiding out here, but I’ve been trying to be kind to you, accommodate you, and it would be nice if you could return the favor.”

The replicant’s hands, curled into fists, abruptly relax. “I’ve been trying,” he says through gritted teeth.

“Try harder. I’m leaving now. Remember not to make too much noise. Don’t go outside. I can’t be held responsible for what’ll happen if you do.” You shut the door behind you with more force than necessary, realizing your hands are shaking. Infuriating, how judgmental the copycat is. As if he had any right to be, when he’s imposing on you, putting your life at risk.

You’re mad at yourself, because there were moments, last night and again this morning, where you had found yourself enjoying his company, and that admission is something you can’t bare to fully face and analyze the implications of right now.

***

Your shift passes by without a single mention of the doppelganger’s escape the previous evening.

Indeed, if you didn’t know any better, you’d never have guessed anything had happened. The guards still nod courteously as you flash your badge before entering the facility. The standard pair, no additional forces in sight. Everyone else in the office seems calm, focused on their work.

You struggle to feel the same way. There’s a fugitive doppelganger waiting for you when you get home. You can’t stop thinking about him. About your last conversation. He’d been upset. You had, too. You’re not sure if he’ll have cooled off by the time you return.

You try to ask casually in the breakroom if anything interesting had made the news, if anything new was happening at work, but no one provides the information you’re feeling around for. So the story was kept secret, then. Too risky for the DDD to admit they’d lost a captive doppel. Maybe too difficult to explain why he was there in the first place.

Why had they taken him? Why did they alter his memories? Were there other doppels here, too? Being captured and experimented on? To what end?

Your fingers stumble on the typewriter’s keys. You’ve made so many errors today. The wastebin is loaded with crumpled drafts. You find your mind wandering again, your fingers stilling completely. You don’t even hear the phone on the first ring, relying on successive attempts to finally break through your reverie.

You’re no nearer any answers to your questions by the end of your shift. You just find yourself asking more and more. Spreading and multiplying, virus-like. Replicating like the doppels.

The trip to your car is uneventful tonight. Now you’re headed back to the apartment building. To the fugitive you’re concealing.

There’s a doppelganger in your home, and you’re not nearly as upset about that fact as you should be.

***

The day drags by.

The doppelganger isn’t sure what to do once he’s showered and dressed in clothes that are still a little damp, truth be told. The television that humans seem so fascinated with holds no interest for him. He paces the hallway and tries to plan his next course of action. He’s escaped, a free agent, but he’s left without intact memories. He’s not sure if there’s any way to recover them, but if there is, the DDD is the only means to that end.

He can hardly stroll back inside to inquire. Which means possibly putting you to work, seeing what you can discover. Risky, of course. Just like you allowing him to stay here is risky.

He’d been harsh with you that morning. He doesn’t regret it, exactly; he thinks you needed to hear the words, realize the truth behind them. But he’d rather not have had you depart immediately after the argument. It makes him feel…something. He’s not sure what. You make him feel a lot of things he’s not familiar with; has no terminology, lacks definitions for.

He knows he’s been forbidden to enter your bedroom, but he feels that is meant more for when you’re present, for privacy’s sake, so he finally enters in the early afternoon, partly out of boredom, partly out of curiosity. The dresser is littered with objects. A tray full of jewelry, a decoration that baffles the mimic nearly as much as the makeup you wear. There are bottles of various perfumes that he samples, finding most of them to his liking. It reminds him strongly of you, your presence, and he wishes you were home, instead of in that wretched DDD structure.

A wooden hairbrush, the bristles stiff but soft, several threads of your hair visible between them. He watches the way the light filtering in through the windows catches on the strands, turning the handle this way and that. He knows the feel of it, having touched you however briefly the previous evening, securing the loose hair that had spilled free. Silky soft, and fragrant.

Your robe hangs on a hook over the closet door. The doppel takes a handful, lets the fabric brush his injured cheek, inhaling your scent. He knows he’ll also find it in the pillows on the bed, but he doesn’t dare disturb that neatly made furnishing, exiting the room and closing the door quietly behind him.

There is not much else that interests him in your home; little to occupy his time with. He rifles through the mirrored medicine cabinet. A razor. Something he doesn’t require, as his appearance is all an illusion. His face will never grow hair, because Francis Mosses does not have facial hair. He will never need the tousled brown mane to be trimmed, because the length it is at is exactly the same length as the milkman’s. His eyes will always appear tired, because the third floor resident he’s cloned has perpetual smudges beneath his own orbs. The doppelganger stares at his reflection, and for a brief moment, he lets the image shift slightly. The teeth sharpen and yellow, the eyes streak with burst vessels, the lids become red rimmed. You would not care for his real appearance, he is certain.

The milkman’s image is restored. He wanders back to the living room to sit on the couch, waiting for your return.

***

You unlock your apartment door and ease it open, seeing that Francis’ clone is seated on the couch. No disasters, then.

You hurriedly shut and lock the door behind you, stepping forward just as the doppelganger rises and moves toward you. Your handbag is set on the console table.

“How was your day?” The morning’s conversation is still fresh in your mind. The anger on both sides. Your tone is cautiously neutral now, trying to feel things out.

“Boring. Lonely.”

You feel a little ache in your chest at this admission. You don’t know what to say. He missed you, specifically, or just didn’t like having no one else around?

“Did anyone mention me at work?”

“No. Not a word. It was just like any other day.”

“Don’t you find that strange?”

“Yes,” you admit. “But that doesn’t necessarily prove anything.”

“You don’t believe me.”

“I do. I just can’t reconcile that an organization created to protect us would be involved in some sort of devious experiments on the very creatures they’d promised to destroy. I tried to wrap my brain around it all day, and I just couldn’t make it make sense.” You pause. “You’re lonely? Do you have family, or…?”

“Not that I recall. Again, much of my memories are full of holes. This place is empty without you here.”

You swallow, processing that sentiment. So he did miss you. “I don’t want to fight with you,” you say softly.

“I don’t either.”

“Truce?” You hold out your hand and he looks at it curiously. “You shake on it. It’s an agreement. A promise, to keep things peaceful between us going forward.”

“You said never to touch you.”

“I’ll make an exception for this.” His fingers touch yours, threading between them instead of gripping them. “No, it’s meant to be…” Your voice trails off as you stare at that pairing, not drawing back, allowing yourself to be entangled with those warm, human feeling digits. You know they’re not real, and yet they feel it.

“Your heart is beating fast again.”

“I know.” You reluctantly drop your hand. “I should start dinner.”

“We,” he corrects.

“Yes. We.”

***

The doppelganger hadn’t been bragging. He is indeed a fast learner.

Already moving around the kitchen with a comfort and familiarity that’s surprising considering it’s only his second day here.

“You need to crack an egg. You hit it against the side of the bowl, but—” Too late. The doppel smashes the fragile item firmly against the rim and the shell shatters, pieces falling down into the bowl, the yolk running in a slimy trail down the side. “—Not too hard,” you finish, wincing. “It’s okay. We’ll try again. Wash your hands first. I’ll pick out the shell.”

When you’ve finished removing the slivers from the batter as best you can, you select another egg from the carton, handing it to him. “We’ll do this together so you can see how much force to apply. It’s a swift, firm stroke, but very precise, so you’re breaking it open as cleanly as possible to extract what’s inside.” Your hand covers his poised near the rim of the bowl. “Like this.” You guide his hand downward. There is a soft cracking sound, and then you maneuver his hand over the mixture. “Release, gently.” You feel his fingers shift and the jellylike yellow center drops down, the clear, sticky protein filled fluid oozing just behind. “Perfect. You’ve got it.” You smile, turning to face the doppel, and your breath hitches. He’s staring, not at the food he’s preparing with your aid, but at your face, with an intensity that leaves you breathless. Rich milk chocolate eyes, a delicate fringe of lashes on their borders. Full lips slightly parted, breath rushing past. In and out. His hand is so warm.

“You can…you can just drop that into the wastebasket.” You force yourself to release his hand and he obeys your command, the moment dissipating.

***

After dinner and dessert, you both sit on the couch. The television is playing softly in the background but neither of you is paying attention to it.

He’s staring at you again. You can feel it. You change positions and squirm, trying to relax and get comfortable, but it’s impossible. He’d slept here last night. His head cradled right where you’re sitting. Sprawled out. Growing warm during the evening, shoving the blanket down. Long limbs shifting.

You clear your throat. You have to stop thinking these thoughts. “Why don’t we play cards?”

Francis’ clone looks at you quizzically and you jump up, grateful to be kept busy for a few moments, distracting you from the copycat’s gaze as you rummage in the tv cabinet to retrieve a deck. You don’t play often, just an occasional game of Solitaire, but you think the imposter just might enjoy something like Crazy Eights.

“Come with me into the kitchen. We need a flat surface for this.”

You sit at the table and the doppel joins you, watching as you slide the deck free of its container and begin shuffling the cards, dividing the stack and then fanning the edges, then sliding them back together. “Want to try?”

He nods and you guide him through the process. He gets it right on the second attempt, his fingers deftly interweaving the cards.

“Good. Now the game we’re going to play is called Crazy Eights. The goal is to get rid of all the cards in your hand. The first person to do so wins the game. To begin with, we each get five cards.” You deal them out, continuing your instructions. “Leave them facedown for a second. The rest of the deck gets placed here. Top card flipped…okay. Three of spades. That means that if it was your turn right now, you’d need to play another card that is either the same suit, matching this symbol here, or else has the equivalent number value. If you don’t have either of those available, you must keep drawing from this pile here until you find one you can play. With me so far?” He nods. “Now the only other thing you need to know is that the cards with the number eight on them are special. If you place one down, you’re able to declare what suit you want your opponent to play next. We’ll just do a practice run so you can see how it goes, then we can play for real.”

It doesn’t take the doppel long to figure it out. He’s smart, you think. Really clever. Adaptable.

He has to be, you remind yourself silently. That’s how they survive.

You play two rounds, then switch to Rummy, then Spades, then show him Solitaire, something to keep him occupied while you’re at work. You try to conceal a few yawns and the doppel notices.

“You’re tired.”

“It’s been a long day. And I didn’t sleep well last night.”

“Because of me.”

“I was nervous.”

“Are you still nervous?”

Yes, you think. But for very different reasons now. Aloud, you simply state that you are.

You place the cards back in the box and leave it on the table. It was time to get ready for bed.

***

The doppelganger makes up the couch while you take your shower.

It’s a simple task that leaves him wanting for things to do to keep him occupied while he waits. His eyes keep glancing to the hallway.

He’s thinking of how it had felt, threading his fingers through yours. Having you hold his when you’d been cooking together. He’s enjoyed this evening with you. You’re the enemy, the one he’s meant to destroy, to conquer, and yet…he doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want to harm you.

Francis’ clone sits and then stands again. He can’t. He simply can’t tolerate waiting here. He walks down the hall, waiting beside the bathroom door, listening for the sound of the water running, waiting for it to stop. There. Some rustling. Drying off. The sound of the lock turning, and you emerge, looking startled to find him standing right outside.

“Francis.”

He feels odd when you say that name. Partly pleased, because it means he is convincing as the true man. Perhaps a little jealous, too. He wonders if you find the original attractive. A little flare of jealousy at this. He wants to be the superior version. The preferred model.

“I’ve already made the couch up.”

“Oh. Good.” You adjust the height of the bath towel wrapped around you a little higher, concealing more of the curves of your breasts. “Well, I’m finished in the bathroom, so I guess I’ll say goodnight now then.”

“Goodnight,” he says, reluctantly stepping aside to allow you to cross the hall. The bedroom door closes. He stares at that door for a long time, imagining you preparing for bed, your body naked before…

No interest in anything of that sort, isn’t that what he’d promised you? So why is his body reacting this way? The replicant strips and enters the shower, still damp from your recent one, and each stroke of lathered hands over his skin seems a cruel tease, an unsatisfying supplement for what he really wants. He wants your hands touching him, especially…

His breath hitches as he strokes his growing erection. Here. Urging to mate. Sensitive, hot, flushed, hard. Your pleased smile when he does something correctly, the lesson learned. The lines of bone leading to your shoulders, visible even earlier, in the v neckline of the dress you’d worn. Just now, those shoulders bare.

He presses his palms against the wall of the shower, head bowed, letting the water cascade over the nape of his neck. Those lips. He covets those most of all. Those soft looking, pink wedges of flesh. Gates to the warmth and moisture within.

He leaves the shower, aching, unsatisfied. Brushes his teeth like you’d demonstrated. He doesn’t care for the mint flavor, but he does like the clean sensation in his mouth. Combs through his hair. Thinks about you brushing through yours. Those silky strands. Torment.

The mimic returns to the living room, switching off the lamp as he goes. He can find his way in the dark now. He lies down and crosses his ankles, staring up at the void, the blanket shoved at the other end of the couch by his feet. He’s only wearing the briefs. He’s too warm. He shuts his eyes and they snap back open.

You hadn’t locked your bedroom door.

***

You didn’t lock your bedroom door.

You’re thinking this after you’ve gone to bed, lying there suddenly not able to sleep, in spite of how tired you are.

You’re not even sure if leaving the door unlocked was intentional, that’s the crazy part.

Perhaps some part of your subconscious had been at work, providing opportunity, should the doppel be interested.

Be interested in what? You know. Of course you know.

You rest a hand on your chest and feel how hard your heart is pounding. He surely hears it. How can he hear it?

The sound of the doorknob turning makes you hold your breath. You close your eyes and try to keep still. Pretending to be asleep.

A slight creak as the door opens, a click as it shuts. Bare feet sinking into plush carpet. Pausing by the side of the bed. You know he’s there, even with your eyes closed.

“I know you’re awake,” he says softly. “Your heart wouldn’t be beating that fast if you were sleeping.”

“It might if I was having a nightmare.” You can’t help but try to defend yourself just a little. One last measure of resistance before surrendering to the inevitable.

“Is this a nightmare, do you think?”

“No.” You sit up, easing your legs over the side of the mattress. Pushing yourself to your feet. He’s right there. Beside you. You can feel the heat wafting from him.

Your hand reaches out blindly, finding his. Fingers tangling together in the darkness. “Touch me, Francis.”

“I’m not supposed to touch you, remember?”

“You’re not supposed to come in my room, either.”

You can picture him smiling at that, a little smirk. “You left the door unlocked.”

“It was an accident.”

“Was it?” His index finger slides along yours.

“No. It wasn’t.” You turn and his hand shifts, reaching up blindly to sink in your hair, his fingers trailing down your cheek and stroking your jaw. They define collarbone and shoulder and then curve around one breast. Down to your hip and then you take control of his hand again, guiding it beneath the waistband of your satin pajama bottoms.

You whimper, biting your lip when he first grazes your sex.

“No panties. Did you forget those, too? Another accident?” His fingers glide between your lips and you gasp.

“No. Not an accident.”

“You want this.”

“I do. I do want this, Francis. Oh…” He’s brought the dewy slick of your arousal back to your bud, drawing a circle, teasing the hardening flesh out of its hood.

His nose bumps your cheek, trying to find your mouth in the darkness. There. Your stomach somersaults as his lips crush against yours. He moans at that touch and you think it is the most sensual thing you’ve ever heard. Just absolute helpless pleasure and desire. You can taste your toothpaste as he strokes your tongue. Another stomach flip at this sensation. Your nails dig into this shoulder. He’s still massaging your clit as he explores your mouth, until it makes you quiver too much and you sink back onto the bed, reaching for him, urging him to follow.

You feel the weight of his knees pressing on the mattress, sinking down, braced on either side of you. Hands reaching beneath your top to massage your breasts as you struggle to get your pajama bottoms off, lifting your hips and scraping them down over your buttocks. Francis’ clone tries to help, still kissing you, still trying to explore your body while helping divest you of your clothes, everything made more complicated because neither of you has turned on a light. You laugh a little at the absurdity of it and he pauses midway through tossing aside the top you’ve finally removed in a joint venture, the bottoms already shed.

“What’s amusing?”

“Just…doing this in the dark. You can put the light on, you know.”

“But that would mean moving away from you,” he counters. He’s at your throat now, planting wet kisses there. “Besides, I don’t even know where it is. You shouldn’t have worn something so complicated. What you had on last night would have been much easier to remove.”

“You’re right.”

“Mmm-hmm.” He reaches for your hand, laying it on his chest and pushing down. You feel the lean torso of the imposter milkman, the slightly coarse texture from body hair between his pectoral muscles and then again leading down in a stripe to the waistband of his briefs. He keeps pushing, at a slower pace now, and you feel his prick tenting his briefs, hard and demanding, and a little damp spot of pre cum saturating the fabric.

Another moan of sound. You move back to the elastic band and help him shove the underwear down over his hips. Not much past that level, but you don’t think it matters, because you’re both too impatient now. Your legs are spread and he’s found his way between them, sliding his erection across your mound, over your sensitive nub and down to your entrance.

He begins to thrust inside and you drag in a harsh rasp of air at that feeling of being stretched, filled. The doppel leans and pushes further in, down and down until he’s fully buried inside and his mouth is back on yours, his fingers lacing through the hand you have resting limp somewhere near your face.

“Fuck,” he curses, his hips lifting slightly, cock easing out before he pushes back inside.

“Where did you learn that word?”

“Where do you think?” He nips at your ear.

“I never taught you that.”

“No. I don’t know where I heard it. But it seems appropriate. That’s what we’re doing, isn’t it? Fucking,” he pants beside your ear after another several thrusts. “Mating. Breeding…”

“Francis,” you gasp, both at his words and the sensation as he pumps in and out of your pussy.

“You feel so good,” he sighs, nuzzling your cheek. “So warm, so tight, so wet…hungry for me, hmm? What a pretty thing you are, so sweet…” His voice fades as he begins pounding into you in earnest, setting a more rapid, intense rhythm. Your pelvis rolls to meet him, knees digging into his ribs. You suck his bottom lip and squeeze the hand that you’re clutching, urging him on. He tastes like salt now, perspiration mixed with soap and musk all lingering at his brow, his cheek, the side of his throat.

Everything is growing tighter inside you, coiling, pressure building. Your bodies slap wetly together and he batters that special aching spot deep inside. He breathes your name and it sounds reverent. Overwhelmed. Back to cursing, primitive and filthy and vulgar, and you drink it from his lips, whisper it back to him. There. It’s happening. Unwinding and shattering around him, becoming boneless, soft, limp as the echoes wrack your limbs, waves that drag at the cock invading you, pulling him under with you, spilling seed, breath hotly huffed above your lips, a little noise of wonder, a groan, the fingers tightening in yours, holding on to you, keeping anchored, until he finally slips free, drops next to you, wet and panting, still tethered to your hand, in the darkness.

[babygirl-diaz]

Tattooed Golden Retriever

This is once again dedicated to @sarastars who gave me the idea for the fic.

Considering what's going on in the show right now, it kinda hurt writing this.

Summary: 5 Times Eddie scratches Buck's head and he falls asleep + 1 time he doesn't and Eddie kisses him.

***

i. Eddie was busy reading a spy novel on the couch when he felt something heavy on his lap. He looked down to see Buck smiling up at him.

"Uh... Hello?" Eddie chuckled, and his hand automatically moved into Buck's hair.

"Mmmm... Read to me," Buck mumbled and made himself comfortable, practically nuzzling Eddie's thigh like a cat, making him feel all sorts of things that he refused to acknowledge. "Also, give me head scratches."

"If I do that, you're gonna fall asleep, Buck, and Bobby will not be happy," Eddie told him but absentmindedly scratched his head.

"I don't care," Buck replied and made happy noises as Eddie continued to scratch his head. "Now read to meeeeee..." He whined and bumped his nose against Eddie's thigh.

Eddie sighed and started reading. "The rain slashed across the grimy windows of the safe house, mirroring the tension that thrummed through Anya Petrova's veins. She clutched the burner phone, its cold metal a stark contrast to the warmth radiating from the freshly brewed cup of tea in her other hand. The voice on the other end of the line crackled with static, but Anya recognized it instantly. It was her handler-" Eddied stopped when he heard snoring and looked down to see that Buck had fallen asleep.

"He's like a goddamn puppy," Chimney commented as he sat down on the armchair with his bowl of fruit.

"More like a tattooed golden retriever," Eddie said fondly and smiled at a sleeping Buck as he continued to gently run his fingers through his curls.

"Mmmhmm..." Chimney hummed

Eddie looked up to find his coworker and friend giving him a knowing look before going back to his fruit bowl.

***

ii. It was the end of a very long shift and Eddie was getting ready to go home when Buck sat down beside him on the locker room bench with a heavy sigh. He put his head on Eddie's shoulder and let out another sigh. "'m tired," Buck complained.

Eddie lifted his hand to scratch Buck's head, who made a delighted sound.

"Yeah, I'm tired too," Eddie replied, yawning. "We all are. It was a long-ass shift."

Eddie kept scratching Buck's head and soon heard soft snoring. "Buck?" He called out but got no response in return.

"No," Eddie mumbled. He knew he wouldn't be able to move until Buck woke up. Because Eddie would rather die than wake him up. So he instead kept scratching his head and put his own head down on top of Buck's, closing his eyes.

***

iii. The next time it happened, they were at a BBQ at Bobby and Athena's place. Eddie sat on the floor talking to Karen and Hen while eating his lunch when he felt someone sit beside him. He looked over to find Buck smiling at him like a goof. "What?" He asked.

"I need head scratches," Buck replied like a little child.

Eddie blushed a little and looked at Hen and Karen to find them giving him an amused look.

Buck removed the empty plate from Eddie's lap and put it on the coffee table before putting his head down instead. "Head scratches! " He demanded.

Eddie rolled his eyes and started scratching Buck's head, letting his blunt fingernails move through the curls in slow motion.

He went back to talking to Hen and Karen like this was the most normal thing in the world. They looked a little confused before continuing the conversation.

Soon Buck fell asleep on Eddie's lap and Eddie gave him a fond glance.

"What?" He asked when he found Hen and Karen giving him a knowing look, similar to the one Chimney had given him a couple weeks ago.

"Nothing," Karen replied with a shrug. "You two are so comfortable with each other."

"We've been friends for 8 years," Eddie replied. He couldn't believe his own ears as he said that.

"You ever thought of having something more with him?"

Eddie was taken aback by Karen's question and saw Hen bumping her shoulder against her wife's, and shaking her head.

Eddie blushed once again and shook his head. "We're just meant to be friends."

"Of course," Karen replied with a smirk.

***

iv. During one of their calls, the 118 ended up saving a puppy that was only a few months old. The golden retriever was adorable, and Eddie loved dogs, so he took charge of the dog while they waited for her family to come and take her. She followed Eddie around everywhere and Eddie fed her food that Bobby made for her and also sneakily fed her some from his plate. After dinner, Sheena, as her name tag had suggested her name was decided she wanted to play. Eddie found a ball in the lost-and-found box and threw it for her, which she went and caught and brought back to him. Then she started giving him kisses, making him laugh and roll around on the floor of the fire station loft.

"Sheena, stop!" Eddie laughed and grabbed her face, giving her kisses in return.

She put her chin down on Eddie's knee when she finished playing and Eddie immediately knew what she wanted. He chuckled and started scratching her head and behind her ear. As he kept doing that, Sheena soon fell asleep with her chin on Eddie's lap.

Eddie heard someone clear their throat and looked up from the floor to see Buck pouting at him. "What's wrong?" Eddie asked worriedly.

"She's taking my place," Buck huffed and sat down beside Eddie.

"She's a three-month-old puppy, Buck," Eddie reminded him.

"I don't care. The head scratches are mine," Buck said possessively and lay down on the floor, putting his head on Eddie's other thigh.

"Buck, what are you doing?" Eddie laughed. "Come on, get up."

"Give me head scratches!" Buck demanded, like he always did.

"Buck, everyone is looking," Eddie told him but moved his other hand into Buck's hair, anyway.

"I don't care. No one is taking my head scratches away from me," Buck adamantly told him.

Eddie sighed and ran his fingers through Buck's scalp, scratching it gently.

Just as always, Buck was soon asleep.

"Eddie, the Smith family are he-" Bobby stopped mid-sentence and raised his eyebrows.

"Do you mind taking Sheena? I can't get up," Eddie told him.

Bobby sighed and nodded, "Okay." He went to pick up Sheena, who woke up and started squirming.

Eddie gave her a sad look and let her give him kisses again. He gave her kisses too and then watched sadly as Bobby carried her away.

***

v. Buck, Eddie, and Christopher were playing video games at Buck's loft with Eddie sitting in between Buck and Christopher. Buck and Eddie were playing against each other and Christopher was cheering them on, taking Buck's side this time. Eddie ended up winning and high-fived himself while Buck and Christopher booed him. But then Buck put his head on Eddie's shoulder and yawned. "Head scratches," he demanded as always.

Eddie snorted and shook his head. "Such a child," he teased and started scratching Buck's head at an awkward angle.

He looked at Christopher to find him giving them a confused look.

"It's a new thing with him, where he wants head scratches and then falls asleep," Eddie explained.

Christopher grinned and put his head down on Eddie's other shoulder. "Head scratches," he demanded as well.

To say that Eddie was surprised would be an understatement. He never expected his 16-year-old son to demand head scratches from him but he'd be damned if he denied the request. Some part of his brain said, "Like father, like son," but he ignored it.

Smiling widely, he started running his fingers through Christopher's curls as well.

Soon both Buck and Christopher were fast asleep while Eddie stayed wide awake between them, happily giving them head scratches.

***

i. Eddie was trying to finish the novel on his bed while Buck and Christopher played games in the living room. It was summer vacation so Eddie let Christopher stay up late, but in the end, it looked like it was Buck who was exhausted. These days, he slept in Eddie's room when he stayed over because something had shifted in their relationship. Eddie wasn't sure what though. So when Buck came into the room, Eddie looked up from his book and smiled. "You good?" He asked.

Buck fell face-first into Eddie's lap. "I'm tired," he mumbled.

"And you want head scratches?" Eddie asked, chuckling.

Buck turned around and put his head on Eddie's lap before nodding, "Love how you know me so well."

Eddie ran his fingers through Buck's hair and Buck yawned but smiled goofily up at Eddie instead of sleeping like usual. He looked so beautiful, so peaceful, though.

"C-can I kiss you?" The words were out of Eddie's mouth before he could stop himself and he nervously bit down on his bottom lip.

"Thought you'd never ask," Buck replied, smirking.

Eddie leaned down and captured Buck's lips in a gentle, chaste kiss.

When he pulled away, Buck looked at him with a pout. "What was that? I expected more from you!"

Buck sat up on his knees and pulled Eddie close, kissing him hard. Eddie let out a choked sound in the kiss, which Buck swallowed. In his two years dating men, Eddie had never been kissed like this.

[sugurusdiscordmoderator]

barista suguru and reader has the biggest crush on him that they try to ask him out but got too nervous to do so!! however.. reader suddenly see him at a party they were invited in, and what does alcohol do to a person sometimes? confidence, and they hook up (eventually got together??) I'm not sure if this request makes sense, and English isn't my first language..

omg hi anon thank you for the ask - not sure if you're an AOT fan but @humanitys-strongest-bamf has an amazing fic similar to this w Levi and its god tier

anywaysss here we go <3

(The ages in this are all fucked up lol, Megumi, Nobara, and Yuji are 22 and Gojo, Geto, and Shoko are like 25)

content warning: Haibara and Nanami are lovers lmao, weed, alcohol, cigarettes, hookup culture

(this is my original drawing please do not repost)

-

Being well known on your college campus is a blessing and a curse. You loved being involved in a lot of clubs and participating in social events. Going to the library or trying to study was nearly impossible with how many people knew you. However being a senior, you needed to focus and get things done. You lived a little ways off campus to save money and started frequenting a little coffee shop a few blocks from your apartment.

The first time you stopped, you had been walking home from class when a storm with bad winds blew in, and you decided to just study in this cafe until the storm passes. There are little tables all throughout, you grab one near the back and pull out some of your course materials and get started writing notes and going over chapters for your quiz in a few days. That is when a yawn washes over you and the exhaustion from late nights sets in. You figure you might as well get a drink while you're at this coffee shop.

Walking up to the counter you squint up at the menu board trying to decide what you're in the mood for.

"What can I get for you?" a man's voice asks.

Lost in your indecisiveness you don't even look down to make eye contact reading between Americano, Latte, Cold Brew, etc.

"Mmmm, not sure yet, I may need a few minutes," biting your bottom lip thinking about how much caffeine you want to intake today.

"We also have a list of specials down in front of you," he says politely and you see him walk away out of your peripherals.

The thing is, you're not a huge coffee person. Half the time it's too sweet, half the time it's too bitter. The caffeine gives you jitters and makes you anxious. Also sometimes coffee just messes your stomach up so you just have given up on expensive coffee places and opt for making your own shitty coffee at home.

You glance down at the specials list, reading them to yourself,

"Almond Joy Latte

Sparkling Green Tea Refresher

Pink Velvet Cold Brew

Barista's Choice"

You finally look up at the employee, a tall man that is turned around cleaning the espresso machine. His hair is pulled back into a cute bun and his frame is just large. You look at his hands, so large and strong with some veins protruding. He has a black button up on with the sleeves rolled up, exposing tattoos on his forearms. Matching it with black pants and a black apron, he looks kind of dark and mysterious.

He turns around and catches your eye, forgetting all the words that were about to form in your head.

"Still need a minute?" He squints his eyes a little and smiles softly as your eyes rake over his whole face. He has a piece of black bangs sticking out from the bun, pierced ears, a lip ring, amber eyes, and an amazingly chiseled jaw. Your mouth opens but nothing comes out and you can feel the heat spread across your cheeks.

"Uh, I, sorry," you shake your head and try to laugh at your own stupor, "Can I do the barista's choice?"

He nods, "Any preferences?"

"Uhm, no, whatever you like," you completely lie through your teeth trying to seem chill. He taps in the order on the iPad at the register and flips it over for you to pay and sign. At least it isn't too expensive if you don't like it, but you eagerly press the "25%" tip button hoping Mr. tall, dark, and handsome appreciates it.

"I'll bring it over to you when it's ready," he smiles and nods his head towards where you were seated.

"Thanks," you smile awkwardly walking back to your course materials, although it's not like you'll be focusing on anything other than the barista soon. You not-so-casually watch him work, obsessed with a man you've hardly spoken to once.

A few minutes later he brings over a cute tea cup and saucer, and you immediately smile when he sets it down, seeing the little design on top.

"It's a dirty chai...like a chai tea latte with a shot of espresso in it and a little special touch. Let me know if you like it."

The man smirks and walks away before you can even properly thank him. You burn your tongue eagerly taking a sip too soon, trying to find another excuse to talk to him. You try to take your mind off of it by scrolling through instagram for a bit while drinking your latte but around this time of year its all couples and engagements and babies which only adds to how down bad you feel. You get a text from your friend Nobara letting you know that a friend of her friend, Megumi, is having a party Friday and the friend told Megumi who told Nobara that they could bring whoever. After deciphering the word vomit of a text she sent you you send back a "thumbs up emoji" letting her know you'll be there because nobody else has invited you anywhere yet.

You finish your drink and decide to pack up your stuff and head home, a few blocks in the rain won't hurt you. It might cool you off from thinking about the dreamy barista you just met. You set the cute mug on the counter, and he turns around when he hears the noise. He raised an eyebrow, as if asking 'how was it?'

"It was great," you smile, "uhm, have a good one," you slightly shrug and turn around to go before he can add anything, just like he did to you earlier.

-

The next few days are uneventful, you walk by the coffee shop every day on your way to campus, wondering if he is working or if you should go in, but not wanting to struggle to pick a drink or pay for coffee again.

On Friday Nobara walks back to your apartment with you, she commutes in to town so whenever there is a party or something going on she crashes on your couch. She eyes the little cafe, "Want coffee? I think tonight might be pretty fun from the sounds of it!" She practically squeals and you find it adorable how excited she is. "Sure" you grumble, holding the door open for her.

She waltzes right up to the counter, decisive as always, and knows exactly what she wants. You trail behind her, not seeing any employees at the counter, squinting up at the menu board yet again. That's when you hear giggling come from the back room and see the handsome barista come out with some supplies, followed by a cute girl with a short brown bob who seems to be helping him.

You can't help but think about his beautiful laugh, and how you can hear it again.

"See ya tonight Shoko" he says, putting his apron back on and refocusing his attention to Nobara.

"Bye Geto!" This so called Shoko calls back to him as she walks out the front door. You cant help but feel a twinge of jealousy at the way he was in the backroom with his apron off and laughing with a girl.

Like girl - quit being delusional, you just heard his name for the first time and he probably doesn't even know who you are.

"Y/n, what do you want?" Nobara interrupts your talk with yourself.

"I'll have what she's having," you say overly confident, smiling at Geto. They both side eye you and you just remain oblivious, opting to go on your phone as you let your friend pay for your coffee as payment for her 'hotel' for the night. The two of you move out of the way and stand off to the side waiting for your drinks while Nobara talks about how Megumi's other friend Yuji is going to be there tonight with his big brother Sukuna and how excited she is because they're both sooo attractive. You nod your head along with what she says while scrolling on your phone. It's not that you don't care what she's saying, it's just that she knows so much about everything. All the gossip on campus is at your fingertips because of her, good or bad. You zone out staring at whatever drinks the barista is making, watching his damn good looking hands do his job. He walks over to you with two cups and you can't help but just stare at him. His outfit today consists of jeans and a tight black tshirt with a flannel jacket over top.

"Two iced matcha lattes with coconut milk and a strawberry cold foam on top," He smiles as Nobara eagerly grabs both of the drinks and hands one to you.

She sips it right away, "This is the best I've ever had thank youuu," she dramatically draws out while pulling you out the door heading to your apartment again. You look back to see him watching you leave and give a small wave with the hand that is holding your drink. You can't tell if you're imagining it but you think you see a faint blush over his cheeks.

-

You and Nobara enjoy your typical pregame activities, getting ready together, listening to music, and sharing a blunt.

"The guy at the coffee shop was checking you out," she half slurs, talking while applying her lip gloss.

"What makes you say that?" You think she's messing with you but you also hadn't told her about your little crush.

"When I was ordering he was staring at you the WHOLE time. Like he didn't even make eye contact with me I don't think!" She wines, "God it's not fair he's so gorgeous."

"To be fair Nobara, you think most guys are gorgeous" You giggle and walk towards the freezer to grab some liquor. "Speaking of gorgeous men, who's party are we even going to tonight?"

"I think it's at some guy named Satoru Gojo's house? I guess he's good childhood friends with Megumi from when he didn't really have a dad." There goes your friend, sharing other people's business when she didn't really need to.

"Mmm," you nod and throw back a shot of liquor, "I think I had a class with him when I was like a freshman and he was a senior. A real interesting character."

"Maybe you can introduce me and I'll get lucky," Nobara raises her eyebrows at you.

"You will not be having sex on my couch." You say sternly before you both erupt in a fit of giggles. Gathering a few last minute things before heading out, you also grab a reusable shopping tote and fill it with a little bit of your own alcohol, you never know what they may or may not have at these kinds of parties.

-

Walking there was a little chilly but overall a nice night for the time of year. This guy must've gone to your school and hadn't left yet given the proximity of his house to your apartment and to campus.

You walk in and see Yuji Itadori right away with his friendly smile and big personality. He gives you both hugs and you know at least if Nobara doesn't get lucky with anyone else she can rely on Yuji.

Your energetic friend holds your hand as she searches the rest of the party to find her friend Megumi. He stands in the kitchen with a white haired man that you faintly think is this Gojo guy, both getting ready to shotgun a beer together. You and Nobara wait to see who wins before interrupting, grabbing drinks out of the cooler and setting down your bag with liquor and hard seltzers in it. It appears that Gojo finishes just a second before Megumi and you hear Nobara interrupting, "Gumi what was that?! You lost like a little bitch?"

He groans in response but ultimately smiles, "Why am I friends with you again?"

"Because you've been stuck with me since high school."

Watching the altercation, Gojo comes up to you and asks, "You're with them?" Nodding his head at the two immaturely arguing.

"Sadly." you respond taking a swig of your drink.

"I'm Satoru Gojo, this is my place, thanks for coming." He eyes you over top of his black round sunglasses, making you feel like you may be wearing too revealing of clothes.

"I'm y/n, thanks for the invite by proxy," You giggle as Megumi makes his way over to you.

"Y/n, good to see you," the spikey haired boy gives you an awkward side hug, and a little kiss on the top of your head. Satoru raises his eyebrows at the two of you and you roll your eyes. When Megumi and Nobara get distracted and head into another room you fill him in. "Megumi and I may have hooked up once or twice when we were drunk," You blush, revealing your secret that hardly anyone knew to this stranger.

"Mhmm, seems like more than once or twice," Gojo sips his drink and sighs dramatically, leaving the kitchen to you alone.

Just then the back door of the kitchen that leads to the back yard creaks open. You turn to see who it was out of instinct, and recognize the girl with the brown bob from the cafe earlier today. She carries on past you not even really looking at you with her cigarette still lit in her mouth.

You see Nobara in the living room from your spot on the kitchen and mouth to her that you're going outside to smoke. She nods and thumbs up, but it seems that Yuji also read your lips and is interested in joining you.

You head out to the backyard, very dimly lit despite the pretty lights Gojo tried to hang up to make it look more aesthetic. You pull out a dab pen and a cigarette and hold them up for Yuji to take his pick. His eyes light up at the weed pen and he takes a huge inhale.

"God Yuji, careful," you laugh and proceed to take a smaller hit.

Your laugh seems to attract the attention of another group standing outside, and you immediately quiet yourself.

"Do you have a light?" One of them asks although you can't make out names or voices and even if you could you don't know many people here.

"Yeah," you respond, digging out a baby pink lighter that has a "Daddy's Girl" sticker on it, a joke that one of your friends gave you. Hopefully its dark enough that they can't see it.

A blonde guy approaches you to grab it, "Thanks, we have some seats over here if you guys want." Yuji happily follows but you're a little apprehensive. However they do have a firepit going so it is a little brighter over there.

"I'm Kento, this is my boyfriend Yu," the two introduce themselves, lighting their cigs at the same time with your lighter. You take another small hit of your pen as the brunette one comments, "Nice lighter." It makes you cough on your smoke a bit but eventually turns into laughter, "Thank you," You smile grabbing it back from them.

Yuji seems to be a little high from his rather large puff earlier, and you ask, "I'm going to go check on Nobara, you need anything?" He smiles and shakes his head and starts some conversation about an underground fight club with the two guys as you walk back inside. You enter back into the kitchen, grabbing another drink and heading into the living room where you last saw Nobara. She is having a heart to heart with some girl that graduated last year that you know of named Maki. They both have been drinking and just are smiling and agreeing with everything the other says.

She suddenly turns to you when she realizes you're standing there, "Your lover, he's here." She abruptly turns back around ignoring your inquiry of who she is referring to. You see Gojo and Megumi talking in the kitchen and decide to go talk to them instead of standing there looking awkward. You couldn't see from the angle you were at, but the brunette bob cigarette girl was also standing with them chatting.

Gojo waves you over to the conversation, putting a playful arm around your shoulders. "So sweetheart," Satoru starts, slurring his words a little more than he was the last time you talked to him, "Were trying to place bets on who's going to hook up with who tonight."

"Shoko has money on Suguru and Yuki, Megumi bets on Nobara and Yuji, and me, well I have money on you and Megumi." The four of you errupt in laughter and yelling over top of each other of who is correct.

"What are we arguing about?" Another voice asks that just came into the kitchen. You turn to see who it is with Gojo's arm still loosely hanging onto you.

"Suguruuuu" Satoru coos, "Finally joined the party! Shoko here thinks you're going to hook up with Yuki tonight."

"Like hell," he mutters looking to see who his best friends choice of girl is for the evening, before his eyes land on you. You can't help but drop your jaw at the beautiful barista from the cafe standing in front of you. It looks like he just showered, wet hair which is half up half down, and you can smell the fresh body wash radiating off of him.

"Who'd you bet Satoru?" Suguru questions, still having his eyes focused on you.

"I bet little miss y/n here and her boy toy Megumi." He responds and your cheeks flush at the fact this beautiful man may think you're not interested because of Gojo's fat mouth.

"Who'd you bet on?" Shoko asks directed towards Geto.

"I'll have to get back to you on that," he turns to get a drink from the cooler before taking a step outside, you assume to smoke.

You excuse yourself from under Satoru's arm, leaving him Megumi and Shoko to talk about more random gossip. Heading to the backdoor, you try to build up some courage to introduce yourself to this Geto guy. Much to your dismay, as you are walking out of the door in your own thoughts, another person was coming through the door to go inside but was a lot more solid than you. Bouncing back onto your ass you giggle, "I'm so so sorry, I wasn't paying attention," you look up to meet the amber eyes you've been thinking about for the past week. It feels like the wind has gotten knocked out of you seeing how close your faces were with him grabbing your hand to help you up.

“I’m sorry, didn’t mean to knock you over like that,” he slightly laughs. “I’m just grabbing a lighter,” letting go of your hand holding the door open.

“Oh I have one here!” You pull it out of your pocket kicking yourself for showing it to someone else again. Well maybe it will at least start a conversation. You hand it to him and he lights his cigarette, not making a comment and hands it back to you. You also decide to light a cigarette, trying your best to look cool doing it but because of the wind you’re having a little trouble. Suguru sticks up his hand to block the wind for you. His damn hands. It’s like as big as your face up close and you say “thanks” with the cigarette hanging out of your mouth now lit.

“Y/n? Is that your name?” He breaks the silence first.

“Yes, are you Suguru?” You ask sweetly back

“Suguru Geto, the one, the only, barista extrodinaire,” he laughs and draws a puff.

“I like your laugh.” You blurt out, now realizing your judgement is a little impaired from your weed alcohol and nicotine pairing. “Sorry that just kind of came out.”

“That’s okay,” he stares at you with kind eyes ashing his cigarette against Gojos house.

“Did you like the matcha today?” He asks after you don’t respond.

“Actually no,” you bust out laughing, “I don’t like matcha I was just distracted when she was ordering.”

“Distracted by what?” He asks.

“You,” you realize how close your faces are and how intimate the moment is with your glowing cigarettes and how intoxicating the mix of his smell is.

He nods and smirks at your response, glancing down at your lips. “I think I want to get to know you more y/n.”

You gather all the courage that you haven’t had with this man for the past few days and put it all in your lips and lean in to kiss him. He kisses back, graciously, putting his hand against the back of your head as you place your hand on his hard pec. He depends the kiss, moving his lips passionately before entering his tongue into your mouth. His free hand wraps around your waist.

Just as things are getting intense you hear Nobara squeal in the kitchen, “GOJO LOOK!” You both break the kiss laughing, but still pressed up against him.

“I think I may know who my bet is on for tonight,” he winks and gives you another kiss, making your knees weak and release a tiny whimper into his mouth. You pray he didn’t hear it, but instead he asks, “needy daddy’s girl?”

You feel your cheeks grow so warm and cover your face with your hands. “Just kidding pretty girl, your lighter was cute though.”

—

reblogs and comment for a part 2 ?? 🤭🤭

[undressmewithyoureyes]

LET THERE BE LIGHT - FIFTY ONE

**Harleys POV**

Ghost wasted no time wanting to tie the knot. A few days after I was discharged from the hospital, I came back to base to it set up with white tapestries and white tablecloths covering the cafeteria tables. It wasn’t an extravagant wedding, but it was perfect for us. It was…home. Soap had picked out the outfit that Tommy wore going home and also his little onesie that looked like a tux. Soap was the best Godfather and 141 as well as Los Vaqueros were the best village we could have ever asked for.

Price married us and for the first time in a long time, I felt at peace. My head was calm with no storm brewing. Tommy was the most perfect surprise that has ever happened to me and Ghost is the best father. He so gentle and caring with him, it’s almost surrreal. Alejandro and Rudy made sure to have a feast for us to celebrate for our wedding. I had never seen so much food in my life, but from what Alejandro told me, that’s how they do it in Las Alma’s.

“Mrs. Riley,” I hear his voice call out to me.

I spin around and give a flirtatious look at my…husband, “Yes sir, Mr. Riley?”

“Mmmm, I do like that,” he tells me as his arms wrap around my waist. I was leaning over the crib watching our perfect son sleep away.

I turn around to face Ghost, “Do you now?” I flirt back with my eyebrow cocked.

His grip around me tight, “Yes ma’am.” He leans down close to my ear, “I have something for you.”

As long as Ghost and I have been together, my body still isn’t ready for his touch or his deep voice and I hope it never will be. I love the way he makes me feel and I love the chills he runs down my spine. “Oh really? Dare I ask?”

“Close your eyes,” he demands.

I do as I’m told and close my eyes. I frown when I feel his touch remove from me, but my ears perk when I hear his footsteps walking away from me. One things for certain, take away one of your senses, the other ones will heighten. I could hear the drawer to the bedside table open and then shut soon after. His footsteps walk back towards me and before he was standing directly in front of me, I could feel him.

“Hold your hand out,” Ghost says softly.

I reach my hand out, palm up. He places something small in my hand. Cold and metal. “Open your eyes.”

I open my eyes and a gold shiny key rests in my hand. I furrow my brows in confusion still looking at the key before diverting my eyes to his, “I-I…”

“It’s to our house,” he says before I could get the words out.

“…Our house? You bought us a house?” I say to him as tears form in my eyes.

“I did. Right after you told me you’d marry me, I went and bought one,” he says to me as my eyes get lost into his amber ones.

“Simon, I-I don’t know what to say.” I mean what could I say? I was absolutely speechless.

“Say you’ll be mine forever”, he says to me as he pulls me closer to him.

“I already did…when I married you, remember,” I say as I let out a chuckle.

“Oh I’m aware Mrs. Riley. It never gets old.” He was right. I still get butterflies when I hear my last name, our last name come out of his mouth. I knew there was something there the first time I woke up and my head was resting on his chest. When he held me after he secretly listen to me play the piano. When he surprised me in Paris. When he never gave up on me when everyone else did.

“What about Soap?” I ask.

“You know Johnny is coming with us,” Ghost replies with a chuckle.

My arms wrapped around Ghost as my head nestled against his firm chest. It didn’t matter where we lived. He was home. “So where is this mystery house?” I ask - my voice muffled from my face resting against his chest.

“Manchester,” he replies.

“Manchester, UK?” I asked confused removing my head from his chest. He nods. “I thought you never wanted to go back there?”

He brings his hand up and cups the side of my face, “Harley, if there is anything that you have taught me, it’s that I can overcome anything. I didn’t think I would be a good father because I didn’t want to turn out like my own, but here I am loving every second of it. Not being able to find you for all those months and then losing you in the hospital, it really brought something out in me,” he pauses. “And I know we can both overcome anything together.” He stops and looks over my shoulder and into the crib at Tommy. “And I fear anyone or anything that try’s to hurt him.”

I slowly turn around to look at our precious baby boy. Ghost was right. We were killers naturally and would do it without thinking twice, but when it came to our son, we would burn the world down.

A knock at the door pulled my attention from Tommy. Ghost walks over to the door and opens it. Alejandro.

“Amigo’s, it’s been an honor working beside you both,” he says as he shakes Ghost’s hand and then walking over to me.

“Alejandro, we can’t thank you enough for everything you and your base has done for us,” I say back as he hugs me tightly.

“Senorita, please. It’s the least we could do. 141 is family to us,” Alejandro says as he places his hand over where his heart is. “You are always welcome here,” he pauses. “And please, don’t be a stranger.”

“We wont, I promise,” I tell him as he holds both of my shoulders. Alejandro and Rudy have been nothing but kind and treated us as one of their own. They helped with my rescue and they helped house us. If anything, we owe them.

“Harley, our plane will be here in about an hour,” Ghost says to me. I give a soft smile to Alejandro and start packing our bags to head home. Price called in a private jet so we could be more comfortable on the flight, especially for Tommy. Ghost helped me pack as Tommy slept away in the crib. It didn’t take long to pack our few things, and we took the rest of the time telling everyone goodbye.

The hour went by with what felt like a matter of minutes and before we knew it, Ghost, Soap, Tommy and I were thousands of feet in the sky heading to our new home.

“You know this isn’t it,” Soap says to both Ghost and I.

I look at Soap confused as I held Tommy in my arms. It must be nice to be a newborn. You get held all the time and sleep all day. “What are you talking about Johnny?” I ask.

“As in the ‘normal’ life,” he says air quoting ‘normal’.

Ghost chuckles as he fixes him a glass of bourbon and Soap a glass of scotch, “Were not retiring Johnny.”

“Plus, Michael and Graves are still out there. Has anyone heard anything on that?” I ask to them.

Soap shakes his head, “They’re both off the radar. If you ask me, it doesn’t really make sense.”

Ghost throw is head back as the caramel color liquid disappears, “Maybe they killed each other and did the work for us.”

I raise my eyebrows and cock my head giving the ‘that’s an option’ response. “So do you think they are in hiding or blending?”

“Either or,” Ghost replies to me. “The smartest option would be a bullet to the face. I’d take that over what we are going to do to them when we find them.” His voice deep and sultry.

God, I loved when he got riled up or talking about something that pissed him off. His voice became deeper and filled with rage. “I’ll drink to that LT,” Soap says as he raises his glass.

“I hope I’m the one that finds them. Especially Michael,” I say through gritted teeth. The things I plan on doing to that worthless piece of shit is going to be so inhumane that its going to make even the most sadistic people flinch. Michael was mine. End of story and if by some means someone took him out before I could, then they owed me their soul.

(Six Months Later)

Snow covered the windowsills and rooftops in Manchester. Houses were decorated with lights and Christmas trees were places in front of windows. The air was light and crisp as Christmas music played inside the three story house. Ghost went all out when buying your forever home. The house was perfect and there wasn’t a room in the house that hadn’t been ‘broken in’ yet.

I sat on the couch as the doorbell rang through out the house. “I’ll get it!” Soap yells from the kitchen. The house was an open concept, but the giant living room was a huge sunken living room with five stairs leading to the kitchen. Twenty foot vaulted ceilings with floor to ceiling windows with a bright red baby grand piano in the corner. It was something you would find out of a magazine, and you fell in love with it everyday.

“Soap who is it?” I ask as I look over towards the kitchen. Soap doesn’t respond, but flashes me a shit grin. Soap had been cooking since yesterday for our Christmas dinner. I kept asking him why was he cooking so much for just the four of us and his response never changed, “For leftovers Harley.”

Ghost comes down the stairs with Tommy in his arms. Seeing him being a dad lights my heart up. He’s the best dad ever and Soap is right there with him. Tommy is so blessed and I hope he knows that. “Who’s at the door?” Ghost asks as he steps off the last step.

“I don’t know. Go ask the chef,” I say with a chuckle. I grab Tommy and bring him to the center of the living room with his toys. He’s right at six months and has almost mastered the art of crawling.

“Johnny!” Ghost calls out. No answer. I look over at Ghost and he looks back at me. It was times like this that made my anxiety go up because we still had yet to hear anything on Michael or Graves.

“Johnny!” Ghost calls out again. This time he takes a step towards the kitchen and then stops when we hear the door close and multiple sets of footsteps inside. I stand up and stand in front of Tommy and reach behind my back where my pistol rests - Ghost does the same.

We hear the footsteps slowly make their way towards the kitchen. “SURPRISE!” The five people scream as they jump around the corner. Ghost and I quickly pull our pistols and aim it at them before quickly retreating our weapons back into their holsters.

“Talk about the bloodshed of Christ on Christmas,” Soap says as he walks around them.

“Not funny amigo,” Alejandro retorts back.

Price, Gaz, Laswell, Rudy and Alejandro stand in our kitchen on Christmas morning with smiles on their faces. Tears fill my eyes as the overwhelming feeling invades my body. This was the best Christmas ever.

“The place is beautiful,” Laswell says to me. She walks over to where Tommy and I are and takes a seat on the couch.

“Thank you,” I say to her. “Everyone, come in here,” I say to them.

“Everything is in the oven. It will be a few hours before it’s ready,” Soap says to all of us. “Anyone want anything to drink?”

We all nod and Soap brings all of us glasses and brings the ‘whiskey cart’ as we call it over to us. It’s a cart that is filled with all sorts of wines and liquor - cause you never know when you might want to transport a drink.

Everyone fixes them a drink and then takes a seat. “It’s so good to see all of you,” I say looking around the room.

“It’s good to see you all of you too,” Price says to us. “We almost had to block Soaps number. He kept asking us multiple times a day if we were going to make it.”

“Well excuse me for caring,” Soap bites back playfully.

“And look at how big Simon Jr has gotten,” Gaz says with a smile. Ghost couldn’t deny his son. Not only did he have his daddy’s temper, but he was the spitting image of him.

I sat back against the couch as I let the guys and Laswell talk amongst themselves. Soap eventually got up and headed back into the kitchen to check on the food. I got up shortly after to follow.

“I really do appreciate this Johnny. It means more to me than you know,” I tell him. “And I know it means a lot to Simon,” I say as I look back out to everyone.

Soap walks over to me and wraps his arms around my waist, “Anything for you Lass,” he says as he removes his hands from my waist and cups my face before kissing my lips.

“Get a room!” Rudy yells from the living room. All eyes were on us and honestly, I think this was the first time they had seen Soap and I kiss.

“Pick one,” I joke back as everyone laughs. Soap turns back around to finish taking the food out of the oven and I just stare out at the living room. This was perfect. If someone would have told me over a year ago that I would be joining The 141, I would have laughed, but it was honestly the best decision ever - even if it was forced at first.

141 was family. My family and it warms my heart with how welcoming they are and always have been - even when I tried to push them away. Ghost, Soap and I have the best support system and the most reliable people we can count on - that Tommy can also count on.

Ghost gets up from the couch and walks over to me, “Merry Christmas baby,” he says as he places a kiss on my cheek.

“Merry Christmas Mr. Riley,” I say back with a seductive grin.

I go to tease him more, but Prices phone ringing interrupts my thoughts. In our line of work, our phones didn’t ring much unless there was a contract - and our phones never rang on the Holidays unless it was really important.

I watch Prices head move up and down as he talked to whoever was on the other line. After a few minutes, he hangs the phone up and gets off the couch. “We have a hit on Michael,” he announces.

I stand straight as a chill runs down my spine, but it was quickly replaced with this bright fire that I refused to let die off. I said Michael would suffer at my hand and I meant it. I don’t care how many miles I have to run or how many oceans I have to swim through, Michael Gravely will die at my hand.

“Harley, you okay?” Price asks and all eyes turn towards me.

“I’ve never been better,” I say as a sadistic grin forms on my face. “Where is he?” I needed to know because I was coming for him and bringing a wrath with me. My life has always been surrounded by darkness and Michael brought the most with him and if there anything that I learned along the way, is you can’t have darkness if you let there be light.

[imreszekeres]

Saw a trend on Twt going around about “what do your OCs taste like?”

Below the cut because I have Many OCs and couldnt not explain my choices. Feel free to reblog with your own! :) I do not own these images.

Ash: cherry almond milk

Mild but sweet and undoubtably cherry flavored ! Also funni haha bc of his sex sigil.

Pierce: romantic, sweet, but slightly corny and not as great as you were expecting if done wrong.

Marcell: honey mead

More bitter than you were expecting, but the sweet undertones are undeniable. Also will fuck you up if you arent careful.

Imre: salted caramel cold brew

An acquired taste all around— but definitely enjoyable for those with a more unique palate, and enjoyably sweet… You can absolutely taste the salt, though.

Kota: cotton candy bubble gum SPECIFICALLY

Unique, sweet, fun, + look at the GIRLBOSS on the package!! I ate this all the time as a kid and I definitely think she tastes like this lol

Hunter: raw ass meat.

Probably human and slightly past due. Mmmm prion disease

Amber: apple cider and whiskey

Warm, smooth, perfect for calming down. Like a fall evening by the fire with someone you hold dear.

Moth: weed sugar cookies

Specifically sugar! Mild, chill, and unconventional.

Vanessa: Black currant/black cherry whiskey

Deep, full bodied, dark, but fruity with a slight burn.

[witchcraftandburialdirt]

✧ ── 𝐌𝐔𝐍 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐒

Tagged By: @aquatic-hybrid (thank you!! ♥ Tagging: @agonizedembrace, @bells-of-black-sunday, @kalijhomentethi, @mxlevolence, @manufactoredxbyxdesign, @dethdvncer, @steel-and-fire, @seekslight, @nameaprice, @matrotas-muse-hub, @asktheevilstarchild, @pitgritted, @hemoplagued, @johnnysslaughter, @zaunrising, @saviourofzaun

Comfort food: My mother used to make this wonderfully rich stew with braised short ribs in bone broth! This stew also was packed with veegtables and spices - it was one of my favorite things growing up. We'd usually have it with a toasted baguette too for dipping! It instantly reminds me of chilly winter days or when I had to stay home from having a cold. ( っ´ω｀c)

Comfort drink(s): Kombucha or Warm Ginger Tea! I usually drink kombucha anyway since its one of my favorite beverages, but it always puts me in a great mood when I get to have some when I'm in a new place or out and about. I tend to brew my own tea with fresh ginger and let it steep - this helps me a lot with allergies, but it also reminds me of my grandmother ｡^‿^｡

Comfort movie(s): The whole extended edition of the LOTR Trilogy! Scream (1996) was also my first horror movie, so it has a lot of nostalgia of being in my best friend's basement way past our curfew.

Comfort show(s): I was not permitted to watch television growing up but I have been able to catch up! My best friend introduced D. Gray Man to me during my freshman year of university, and it has remained one of the shows I turn to when I need a pick me up (despite its themes!)

Comfort clothing: Mmmm, anything loose tbh - but I really enjoy wearing harem pants. Frankly I'm cold 99% of the time so bundled in blankets with fuzzy socks and a t-shirt is good enough for me!

Comfort song(s): ╭( ๐ _๐)╮ Oh man, there's too many. Just about anything from Sleep Token, Ghost, or Sleeping at Last.

Comfort book(s): coughs in LOTR Probably not comforting for a lot of people but when I was growing up I would often read Sherlock Holmes and William Shakespeare in the library of my school. I have a very warm connection with these stories despite their content.

Comfort game(s): I was not really allowed to play video games growing up either! Shockingly the two video games that really make me happy are League of Legends and Lethal Company -- which - yeah I know they don't fit the definition of comfort but I play with my friends constantly and that brings a smile to my face no matter what is going on in game. ( ´ ∀ `)ノ～ ♡

[wri0thesley]

Man, imagining that Gothic Romance Vampire Diluc concept... imagining him having a sweetheart back when he was a member of the Knights. Then the attack happens, his father dies. What if the attacker was a vampire, and what if Diluc is Turned in the struggle? His sweetheart doesn't know what happened to the kind, warm man they knew and Diluc is too conflicted over his monstrous nature to even dream of being with them anymore. But circumstances arise and they wind up staying at the manor... mmmm tasty

ooh see... here is my concept, for if indeed i ever do get around to writing it;

if i DO, it will probably be multi-chapter and very long fgnkjbfjkg. but. for you, dear follower, as some of these story beats are reasonably similar!!!

reader is a childhood friend of diluc's; in fact, when the children are young, an arrangement is hashed out with reader's father and crepus whereby they and diluc will be married where they are of age. they grow up knowing this and are perfectly happy with the arrangement; they got on well, they are both warm-hearted and soft . . . when kaeya comes into the picture, reader is taken with this boy who will one day be their brother in law too. they are a perfectly happy little band of three - reader does not go into the knights in a combat role, but assists in some other capacity (maybe by helping lisa. i think librarian is a very cute thought). but when the attack happens--

diluc still goes missing; still wanders for three years, unsure of what it is he's been turned into. kaeya and he still have a bust-up, only this time it's because both of them have secrets to be keeping from one another. reader writes diluc letters that go unanswered; still desperately misses and adores him. when they find out he's back in town after so long, they screw up all of their courage to the sticking place - there will be answers. master crepus is dead and so is their father, so whether the arranged marriage continues or not . . . reader just wants to know.

it has been some time since they have visited the lands that dawn winery is situated on; they find themselves lost. they find themselves attacked - and then, they find themselves awakening in a dawn winery manor that is . . . familiar, but not as familiar as it once was. older. clearly unlived in for some time. adelinde, the housemaid turned head housekeeper that reader was once so familiar with, is cold and distant and a little sharp. they are aware diluc is in residence, but he doesn't seem to wish to see them unless it is late at night--

anyway. reader recovers slowly from their injuries (another vampire? diluc himself? some other problem that diluc now finds himself having to pursue? that would be spoilers) all the whilst trying to find out what happened to the kind, warm-hearted boy they once knew, whilst diluc attempts to keep his own bloodlust-and-other-lust for poor reader at bay. at the same time, trouble brews. kaeya knows what he is. do the knights? is diluc himself a monster that needs to be slain?

something something diluc voice: "i don't drink . . . wine."

[fullbusterfantasmic]

Juvia’s unfortunate discovery

Chapter 2: Descent into Madness

Rated M (Implied Intercourse but not descript)

To prevent any possible confusion; I don’t think I ever mentioned that in a lot of my stories Gray has a hard time saying “I love you”. This is because he believes that everyone he tells it to will inevitably end up dead. For good reason, since all of the people he has lost throughout his life are those he’s expressed his love to or for at some point. So that is what “his curse” is referring to.

So sorry for the delay!

I love you

I never want anyone other than you

I will never let you go

He said it! He’d finally put his fears behind him and told her how he felt. Gray looks down at the women in his arms as she stares up at him. The disbelief evident on her face as she thinks; Surely I misheard him. “What was that first thing you’d said babe?” Think I may have misheard you” she has to ask just to make sure.

Taking her face in his hands, he moves in so close their noses are touching before repeating himself. “I.LOVE.you __________, I LOVE YOU! Only you” the pride in his accomplishment is evident in his voice. Her eyes filled with tears as she tries to get over the initial shock of his statement. “C’mon let’s do this in a more appropriate place” he stands up carrying her into his bedroom. Dropping her onto the bed before climbing over her. “Now where were we?” he asks with his signature smirk in place.

“I love you Gray”

The words don’t have him reeling with anxiety, her eyes arent wide with fright, and she isn’t covering her mouth in horror. This time around is completely different than the first time it had accidentally been said. “say it again” he whispers against her lips. “I love you GRAAAY” she exclaims with emphasis put on his name as he slides into her without warning.

“Now that’s what I like to hear”

Waking up that next morning; A mutual decision is made that today is just for them, so they shut the world out. Neither one of them aware of the storm that was brewing behind the tightly drawn curtains.

I love you _________

She can’t stop hearing it.

I never want anyone other than you

Please no....

I’ll never leave you

Make it stop!

Juvia’s hands fist her hair, yanking on the blue strands. “Gray-Sama, you didn’t mean it...I know you didn’t...you just told her what she wanted to hear that’s all! Juvia forgives you” she whispers holding the doll close, caressing it softly. “Juvia knows that your just sewing your wild oats like old people say...you’ll throw her away, just like you did with all the other nameless sluts you took home throughout the years”.

So many females she’d seen leaving his house at ungodly hours of the night or early morning. Not one over the last year though...Juvia Was excited she thought he was finally ready to settle down.

“He is, just not with you” the voice is audible it’s not just in her head, it can’t be!

“SHUT UPPP! Gray -Sama belongs to Juvia!” the manic woman let’s out a miserable wail. The images she sees in her mind have also been infected by that bitch now! Plagued by images of; Gray & ___________

Laying in bed together

Fighting together

Laughing together

Getting married

Preparing to have a child

Bile rises in the back of her throat “God please no...anything but that....Even when he does return to me what if.....” she shudders, rapidly beginning to play out the nightmareish scenario in her minds eye.

~Dreamscape Begins~

Envisioning a happy home with her beloved.

The two of them; Snuggled up, together on the couch, chatting happily. Suddenly a knock on the door interrupts their conversation. “I’ll get it droplet, be right back” Gray says, kissing her forehead before leaving the room.

5 minutes pass... 10 minutes pass...and he still hasn’t returned to the couch. What could possibly be taking him so long?

Peering out of a peep hole on the front door she strained her ears to listen.

“-it’s yours”

“Look, Im with Juvia now; we’re happy just leave me alone”

“I just thought you should know, at least to give you the option of being with us…as a family”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Just forget I even came down here, bye”

“Wait! That’s my kid too, you can’t do this-“

A child....a permanent reminder of…

“I love you _______”

“Juvia won’t let that happen” the expression on her face displays all the lunacy she hid within.

“I’ll make it stop and then everything will go back to how it was, just us two”.

~Across Town~

“Mmmm baby, I love it when you wake me up like this” Gray groans out, voice still laden with sleep. You can see that she moving as she continues sucking him for all he’s worth. “Want to see you though” he mumbles, rubbing the sleep from his eyes while lifting the sheet up. The twisted smile he sees causes him to yelp and immediately jump backwards, “JUVIA?! WHAT THE-!”

She giggles, “Juvia loves the way you taste Gray-Sama”.

“How’d you get in here?! Where is ________?” He begins to panic upon seeing the empty space beside him. “Don’t worry about that now let Juvia finish pleasuring her beloved”.

“NO!” Gray shouts, anxiety reaching a breaking point as he hops out of bed. “Get out Juvia! Get the F-“ he stops short at the feel of something wet and warm beneath his feet. Looking down he can’t help but scream, “BABE?!”.

Her eyes stare back; Blank, unseeing, her skin is cold to the touch. “No...no..not again! I shouldn’t have said it! I knew better goddamnit!”. The curse, his curse, it’s taken yet another person he said those words to. His parents, Ur, now __________ too. Something snapped inside of his head as he cried out in agony.

~Dreamscape end~

Sitting up drenched in sweat the raven haired man looked wildly around the room. His hand began groping the mattress beside him, she wasn’t there. “__________? BABE WHERE ARE YOU?!” he called out, voice loud and terrified. Frantic footsteps came rushing down the hall immediately, she runs into the room hurrying to his side. “What is it?? what’s wrong?!” she touches his face worriedly “Gray?”.

He yanks her onto the bed squeezing her tightly “Thank God” he whispers. “I thought, oh God baby I-“ his body begins to tremble and she hugs him. “I’m here, I’m OK, it wasn’t real” she repeated this like a mantra until he relaxed against the pillows, pulling her with him. “Please say it” he asks. “I love you Gray, I’m never going to leave you” her voice is soft but the conviction is firm. “This is real, that wasn’t” he repeats while caressing every inch of her body, gently kissing her lips. “Make love to me Gray” her voice startles him.

“W-What?”

“Make love to me, focus on me and nothing else, then you’ll know it’s real”.

It was easy for them to get lost in each other and shut the world out once more. They’d had no idea what an ugly day it’d been, how a slight drizzle became a deluge, a down pour. Pleasured cries and whispers of sweet nothings, drowned out by the howling wind. The lovers lay together; Stated and spent staring into each others eyes as they hold one another close.

“I love you, I never want to be with anyone but you, forever”

Juvia won’t let that happen.

Juvia will make her pay.

[jerzwriter]

Ethan and casey arguing about where to go for their first vacation!

Congratulations on 200 queen!

TITLE: Travel Delays

Book: Open Heart

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC

Rating: Teen

Summary: Casey & Ethan argue over where they should go on their first vacation together.

Category: Fluff

Words: Approx. 850

Warnings: It's me, so maybe a curse or two :)

A/N: This is a reader request celebrating 200 followers! :) I hope you enjoy this sort fic!

Casey burst through the doors of the lobby, anxious to escape the bitter Boston weather. She was equally as excited to show Ethan the brochures she had picked up at the travel agency near the hospital on her way home. Sure, it was an old-fashioned way of searching for a place to go, but she was dating an old-fashioned kind of guy. She figured he'd love it. Besides, the photographs were magnificent! Hawaii? The Maldives? Turks and Caicos? Jamaica? She could already feel the warm sand between her frozen winter toes. "Hi, Baby!" she said bouncing into their apartment.

Ethan was seated in the kitchen, his laptop in front of him, and two large cups of his freshly brewed coffee on the table. He had it waiting to help warm her up the moment she got in the door. "I wish you would have let me come pick you up from work. It's too cold for you to be commuting today."

"Ethan, in Boston traffic? It would have taken you 30 minutes to get there then 30 back. The train and a walk took but 20. It's fine."

"Well, here, have your coffee at least, get you warmed up."

She tossed the brochures on the table with a thud, then she ran over and jumped into his lap. Throwing her arms around his neck she giggled, "Oh, I can think of better ways to warm up, Dr. Ramsey."

"Mmmm," he smiled offering her a coffee-flavored kiss, "so can I."

She let out a little squeal, "Good, I can't wait! But look, I have some other warm thoughts for us as well!"

Reaching across the table, she grabbed the glossy booklets she had procured on her way home.

"I got these at the travel agent! I couldn't possibly narrow it down, so I brought one of each. If we can narrow down the island we want to visit, perhaps we can book tomorrow!"

"Well, these all look very... bright... but," he said turning her head toward his laptop, "I've also been researching places for our vacation destination before you arrived home."

"Oh, on the computer?"

"Yes, Casey. I know it's hard for you to believe, but I can actually navigate a browser."

"Wiseass, so let's see are you looking at Bermuda or... oh...."

Each tab had a different destination: London, Madrid, Tokyo...

"What? Would you prefer to stay in the States this time? Because I also have some information on Chicago, Atlanta..."

"Ethan, I don't want to cut you off, but not one of these destinations contains...sand."

"Sand?"

"Yes, sand."

"I hate sand, Casey. It's small, intrusive and it ends up stuck in places you never knew you had."

"Yes. And then half the fun is getting it off."

"Well, I supposed it can be argued that getting off is fun, (she smacks him), but I figured we could do that in, say Beijing? Or perhaps Florence?"

"Both of which, to my knowledge, do not have sand."

"Casey is sand a pre-requisite for a vacation. If it makes you happy I will bring a baggie full of the vile substance and toss it at you from the balcony of our suite in Paris."

"Ethan," she sighed, "all of your choices sound great, and I want to put all of them on our bucket list. But, truthfully, I'd like this vacation to be more about a beach, a gentle breeze, sunscreen, a good book, and a frosty beverage, maybe even with a little umbrella on top."

"With the exception of the book and the breeze, that sounds like purgatory."

Casey shook her head at him, "You are such a sad little man if you truly believe that."

"Casey, if we go to one of my choices we will have museums, shopping, nightlife, some of the best cuisine in the world, and that's just scratching the surface."

"I would love to do all those things Ethan, but I have not been on a vacation in over four years. I'm exhausted and what you are proposing sounds delightful, but also tiring. I just want you, a hammock, and some R&R."

"Look, I will be happy to go anyplace with you, Casey, it's just that...."

"Oh!" she said holding a brochure from a resort in Bora Bora, "Look at this place! We'd have our own little hut, in the water! Our own pool even! I wouldn't even need to brink my bikini top, I could just slip on my thong and lounge poolside with you... and the things we could do in that pool!"

She turned to him when he didn't answer, becoming irate when she saw him tapping at his phone.

"Ethan. Ethan? What are you doing? Did you even hear a word I said?"

"I heard every word you said! I'm in the process of booking our stay. You win," he said with a smile, "start packing... as little as possible."

I hope you enjoyed the read, Nonnie! :) Thank you for sending it to me. Permatags: @adiehardfan @barbean @binny1985 @bluebelle08 @bluerosesbloom @brokenmemoriesblog @charisworld @custaroonie @everybodyscreamsposts @jamespotterthefirst @jennieausten @kachrisberry @kalinahonore @lady-calypso @liaromancewriter @mia143 @mjlbwork @mm2305 @phoenixrising308 @pixelberrygirl @schnitzelbutterfingers @secretaryunpaid @shewillreadyou @shygirl4295 @socalwriterbee @thegreentwin @txfledglingscribe @wanderingamongthewildflowers @icecoffee90

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[of-a-chaotic-mind]

Morning After

Summary: Dean had to listen to the Reader and Sam’s activities the night before so he makes sure to let them know.

TW/CW: Sam Winchester x Female!Reader.  

Requested?: Yes, by the awesome @the-departed-potato who said, “Hello 👋 I was hoping I could request an imagine for Jared Padalecki (or Sam Winchester) with a female reader please. So my actual request was that maybe Jensen (or Dean) over heard some ✨noises✨ coming from Jared (or Sam) and his girlfriends room (could be like a hotel room or something for Jared). And he (Jensen or Dean) starts making fun of Jared (or Sam). It doesn’t have to be anything grafic (unless you want it to) or even include the actual sex part. Just like a funny Jensen (or Dean) mocking Jared (or Sam) thing.”

Word Count: 680

A/N: Mmmm... don’t we all wish to be (Y/n). Anyways... I hope you enjoy the read! As usual, requests are open and love to all! P.S. I’ma be honest, I read smut all the time but for some feckin reason, I can’t manage to convince myself to write it even though I would probably be pretty good at it :/

Third Person POV     Sam stretches his arms and legs before throwing the covers off of himself and tucking them around (Y/n). He yawns as he pads over to the closet and pulls out a pair of boxers, some sweats, and a t-shirt and gets dressed. He goes to head to the kitchen for coffee but stops in the doorway of his bedroom to admire his girlfriend as she lays still sound asleep. Her hair is fanned out over the pillow and here and there among the covers her soft skin peeks out. He recalls their activities from the previous night and finds the dark hickies on her neck right where he left them. Smiling to himself, he returns to his quest for coffee.  

    His bare feet make contact with the cold tile floor as he enters the kitchen and begins brewing a pot of coffee. The rich smell wafts through the bunker and soon draws Dean from his own slumber. This hunter doesn’t bother to pull on regular clothes and instead throws his robe on over his pajamas before venturing out of his room in search of coffee. He finds the brew in its usual spot as well as his little brother cooking bacon on the stove. Dean chuckles as he pours himself a cup of coffee and joins Sam at the stove, “Exciting night?”

    Sam raises an eyebrow, knowing that’s not all that Dean can deal out, “Yes.”

    “Sure sounded like it,” Dean takes a sip of his coffee before pitching his voice a little higher, “OH Sammy! Right there, it feels so GOOD!”

    Sam slaps his brother on the back of the head as he flips the bacon, “Shut up. You’re just jealous.”

    “Yeah sure,” Dean replies as he takes the carton of eggs out of the fridge and begins setting to work to make scrambled eggs.

    A short while later, (Y/n) shuffles into the kitchen wearing Sam’s flannel and a pair of shorts. Dean nearly spits his coffee out at the sight of the dark marks up the side of her neck as displayed due to her hair being in a messy bun. Sam grins proudly as she wraps her arms around his waist and mumbles a good morning. (Y/n) makes her way over to the coffee pot to pour herself some and by the time she’s done, Sam and Dean have plated up three plates of bacon and eggs and are heading for the library table. (Y/n) joins them and takes a seat before delightedly munching away at the delicious breakfast.  

    It’s quiet for a short while until Dean clears his throat, “So, what time are you two leaving for the furniture store?”

    (Y/n) and Sam both give Dean a look of confusion and Sam asks, “Why would we be going to the furniture store?”

    Dean can barely contain his laughter to get his punchline out, “To buy a new bed because it sure as hell sounded like that one didn’t survive last night.”

    A bright blush spreads over (Y/n)’s face as Sam shakes his head at Dean, “Very funny. I have to admit that was delivered well though if it weren’t for you laughing at your own joke before you even manage to say it.” Dean shrugs and returns to his food. Sam glances over at (Y/n) and is amused to find the blush across her cheeks and leans over to press a quick kiss to her lips.

    The rest of the day went by as normal. The boys checked their usual sources to see if there were any cases nearby and (Y/n caught up on reading her favorite book. Dean had no more comments until Sam had gone to take a shower and came back without his shirt on. As soon as Dean caught sight of Sam’s back, his jaw hit the floor, “Holy shit, (Y/n). I didn’t know you had claws.” (Y/n) once again blushed furiously and Sam chuckled at her as he joined them at the table and wrapped his arms around her from behind to bury his face in her neck.

Masterlist

Taglist: @emiijemii​ @castiels-majestic-wings​

[ashayatreldai]

His Face - Fic

Find this on AO3 or read it here.

Among Su She’s effects is found a bundle of sketches of Hanguang Jun, which inspires a lifetime of exchanges between Wei Wuxian and his husband.

***

Wei Wuxian yawned, barely remembering to cover his mouth with the back of his hand. It wasn’t as though Lan Wangji minded; he still marveled at his husband’s calm acceptance of his less than perfect behavior. And it wasn’t as if he were really tired. They’d been back in Cloud Recesses only a handful of days and most of that time Wei Wuxian had been able to rest, to wander the back hill, to play with the rabbits, to tease Sizhui and Jingyi, to play Chenqing to the birds and the rainbows the sun cast in the light mists of Gusu’s waterfalls. No, he supposed. He yawned because he was warm, well-fed, secure and safe, and in the best company a person could desire, let alone have all to himself.

Lan Wangji sat on the other side of the desk, and in spite of the hour was still working through the backlog of mail which had accumulated in his absence.

“What’s this?” A bundle of papers caught Wei Wuxian’s eye, and on impulse he reached and drew them out of the stack.

Lan Wangji looked up. “After the events at Gyanyin Temple, members of the Lan Clan disposed of the bodies, sealed the coffin in which Red Blade Master and Jin Guangyao are buried, and otherwise put the site in order. Among these activities, Su She’s body was searched and his personal effects catalogued. A quiankun pouch was found, containing an assortment of items. This bundle of papers was also in the pouch. I assume it was forwarded to me because I am the subject.”

Wei Wuxian leafed through the pages. It was a collection of sketches in a variety of media, all of Hanguang Jun’s face, mostly sketches of his eyes. They weren’t half bad: the artist had captured the micro-expressions which concealed everything but hid nothing of Hanguang Jun’s thoughts. But as he examined the pile, he experienced an increasing sensation of wrongness.

“I wonder what he was trying to capture. I mean, here’s ice, here’s anger. I think this one is arrogance or being haughty; and this one has to be indifference. And this,” he huffed out with a half smile, “has got to be ‘you are the scum beneath my shoe’.” That was a micro-expression Wei Wuxian had seen often on Lan Wangji’s face when they were young, as he kept poking and prodding until the carefully cultivated mask his friend wore finally slipped. He spread out the pictures, his eyes searching for the clues he knew he’d find. “Why would he want to draw these things and exclude others? I know a lot of people are afraid of you, Lan Zhan, because you look cold and imperturbable. But anyone who knows you and watches closely can see that there’s so much more to you than that.”

“Su She was cast out of the Lan Clan because he betrayed our secrets to Wen Xu. He was known for being desirous of imitating me – poorly. We can only speculate as to his motivations otherwise,” Lan Wangji commented quietly.

“Mmmm,” Wei Wuxian agreed. “He hated you, but he also idolized you. Who’s to say what came first? Whatever,” he said, shaking his head. “The fact he captured your eyes with these strong antagonistic expressions suggests he hated himself, and perhaps wanted to make you the one who hated him in his own mind. It’s easier to hate someone than to live with the pain of feeling rejected or not even noticed.”

“I never hated Su She.”

“No, I don’t think I’ve ever known you to hate anyone, Hanguang Jun.” Wei Wuxian felt a surge of protective affection for this dear man. “Not even those who deserve it. Su She unfairly judged you and didn’t know you at all. Still, when you think about what people say about me, the scary deranged Yiling Patriarch, anything’s possible in terms of what people do to themselves to justify hatred. Blargh!” He made claws with his hands and pulled a terrifying crazy Yiling Laozu face.

“Wei Ying.” There was amusement dancing in Lan Wangji’s eyes. “You do not scare me.”

Sometimes Lan Wangji could abruptly light a fuse in Wei Wuxian and leave him smoking. He laughed and crawled around to Lan Wangji’s side of the table, climbing into his lap to sit with one leg either side of Lan Wangji’s waist. His husband’s hands came up to support his lower back. He put both hands loosely around Lan Wangji’s neck.

Lan Wangi had removed his silver coronet and tendrils of hair that usually were wound up to hold the headpiece in place trailed either side of his face, making him look softer and younger and so much more vulnerable.

For some time they sat simply looking at each other. Wei Wuxian took in the flawless face, reaching one hand to trace Lan Wangi’s eyebrow, feeling the soft hairs brush beneath his fingerpads. He gently followed the line of an eyelash, delighting in the butterfly kiss as his husband blinked. Out over the swell of zygomatic bone, cupping around his perfectly shaped ear – he really was like exquisitely carved jade, warm, living, and here. He cupped Lan Wangji’s cheek, his thumb finding the hollow between nose and lip and the soft breath of life it held. And those lips, now quirked in a loving bow.

He pulled himself up to kiss the forehead ribbon, to plant gentle brushes of his lips over all the places he’d touched. When he came to Lan Wangji’s mouth, he finally let go, giving all his worship as they joined tongues, teeth, desire, losing themselves in each other.

They released the kiss, and held each other, Wei Wuxian’s head on Lan Wangji’s shoulder. Between them energy sizzled – it would be sated later, but it was sufficient for now to enjoy the beatitude of the moment, the closeness, words unnecessary to communicate the depth of heart each held for the other.

***

Wei Wuxian was traveling. His absence itched acutely just under Lan Wangji’s skin, a constant worry. He rued the duty which pinned him in his current dual roles: Chief Cultivator and Acting Sect Leader, keeping him grounded at Cloud Recesses instead of off night hunting with his husband.

It was necessary, he knew, for Wei Wuxian to move; the whole man was a study in movement, in ceaseless energy. He knew the staid and stable pattern of life at Cloud Recesses felt like a box to Wei Ying, and while he could endure for a season, he needed more than what life in Gusu offered, even with rabbits and a back hill to wander for hours.

But oh, he missed him. And he worried too: who would defend him when he had so little sense of self-preservation?

This journey, Wei Wuxian had set off to attempt to mend things with Jiang Cheng before making his way up to Lanling to see Jin Ling. One of the highest values for the Lan was family, and Lan Wangji understood the deep need his husband had for those connections – had encouraged it.

It was just as well Wei Wuxian had mastered the butterfly talisman (and enhanced it). Morning and night he would wait for the silvery wings to alight with Wei Wuxian’s messages of love and thought to whisper through his qi. Sometimes they were profound, poetry. Sometimes playful; sometimes just a kiss. Lan Wangji came to depend on those messages, and on being able to send some back himself: I love you, I miss you, come home soon.

He sighed. This morning had grown tedious. Today was the end of the accounting period for Clan matters, and while there was staff to manage the minutiae of bookkeeping, as Acting Clan Leader LanWangji was examining the records before tomorrow’s visit from the auditor. Not for the first time he lamented his brother’s seclusion, necessary though it was. Dealing with finances was the part of the role that least appealed to Lan Wangji; he felt a headache brewing and was contemplating taking a break when there was a knock on the door.

“Hanguang Jun, mail has arrived,” the disciple said, handing him a bundle.

“Thank you. Please ask the kitchen to send me some lunch,” he requested, taking the pile.

The disciple departed, and he began to sort the items: those about Clan matters, those for the Chief Cultivator. One letter stood out, a simple scroll tied with a red thread. Putting all the other mail aside he carefully opened the scroll and took a breath.

It was an ink painting of his eyes, creased ever so slightly in an expression of amusement. On his brow the forehead ribbon glinted silver, his hair loosely framing his cheeks. He instantly recognized the artist, tracing a finger over the brush strokes as if that touch could unite him with the hand that had made them.

“Wei Ying,” he said, infinite fondness filling him.

Throughout the rest of the day he kept the picture on his desk, glancing at it from time to time. And when it was time to turn his attention to other things, he gently placed the picture in his sleeve to take back to the jingshi.

Every couple of days another picture would arrive. This too became something Lan Wangji expected, an important and significant marker in his day, each picture a symbol that he was one day closer to seeing, holding, touching, tasting Wei Wuxian again.

***

300 years later

Clan Leader Lan Shuoxiao had come to the Forbidden Room in the Library Pavilion seeking a book she’d known had been here years earlier. Back then she’d been a mischievous girl seeking a way to prank Shufu, and she vividly remembered the green cover. Lan filing methods hadn’t changed in hundreds of years, so that wretched book had to be here somewhere.

She moved a pile of dusty scrolls, cursing under her breath when she knocked a stack of bamboo books which went tumbling over the floor. Patience, she told herself strictly. Breathe and control.

Feeling a little more composed, she bent to restore the mess to order. A red cover caught her eye on one of the lower shelves. She’d not seen that before, and she was sure she’d have recognized it if she had. It was quite distinct, a deep red, tied shut with of all things a Clan ribbon.

Intrigued, she opened the volume, carefully untying the ribbon and leafing through the pages. Page after page were pictures of a handsome man’s eyes: crinkled in delight, weeping with sorrow, dancing with affection, on and on they went. Sometimes the whole of the man’s lovely face was shown: in some he wore the elaborate silver coronet her ancestors had favored, in others his long tresses floated around his face, and the artist had clearly captured a treasured, private, and vulnerable moment.

Around half way through the volume the pictures changed: a spritely young man in black, his underrobe a vivid red (the same colour as the cover of the book, as it happened – and she wondered whether it was indeed cut from the same cloth), a red ribbon in his hair, holding a black dizi. This array of pictures had a different hand, a more understated eye which captured the young man’s energetic aura, as well as pensive moments – the youth had clearly been to hell and back, and Lan Shuoxiao could almost feel the immense love with which the person who’d drawn these pictures had made each stroke.

There were so many! Page sized varied: a compendium gathered together of odd scraps. The last page bore an inscription:

In loving memory of my parents, Lan Zhan, Lan Wangji, Hanguang Jun, and Wei Ying, Wei Wuxian, Yiling Laozu. The true faces of both, in their own hands. Love letters sent to dearest him who was, alas, away. Lan Yuan, Lan Sizhui, Chief Cultivator.

Clan Leader Lan Shuoxiao’s heart thumped wildly in her chest. Clan records declared Hanguang Jun’s partner’s name to have been Lan Ying, Lan Wuxian. How had they never made the connection before that “Lan Wuxian” was in fact the infamous Yiling Patriarch? Given that the two had Lan Yuan, Lan Sizhui’s name inscribed under theirs as offspring, Lan Shuoxiao and many others had assumed Lan Wuxian to be female.

She looked closely again at one of the pictures of the young man in black and red. He didn’t look like the evil dictator of legend. He looked mischievous and full of life, an impression caught in the laughing smile, and so… youthful.

Not that demonic cultivation was these days the issue it had been for her ancestors; these days cultivation was emphasized to be about harnessing the yin of negative energy and the yang of positive energy, holding them in balance and using each appropriately. She doubted the people who had so feared and hated the Yiling Patriarch would be able to recognize as righteous the way all cultivators now practiced as a matter of course.

As for Hanguang Jun… She flicked back to a picture in which his whole upper body had been captured as he played guqin, a study of someone completely caught up and focused on the music, almost in ecstasy. Another private moment revealing something about the essence of the man. He was so beautiful, captivating. And such a contrast from all the other images she’d ever seen of him. Hanguang Jun had a reputation even now, 150 years after he had Ascended, for being cold, somewhat forbidding, distant, just, merciful and benevolent, untouchable, unrivalled in almost all fields. That was how he appeared at the Gate of Gusu, carved of jade, opposite his brother, Zewu Jun, the famous Twin Jades of Gusu Lan now its guardians, their representations inscribed and infused with talismans and ward tethers. Rumor was that no evil could come to Cloud Recesses as long as the Twin Jades stood at the gates. How was anyone to reconcile that formidable image with this? This picture of a very human, vulnerable, gentle man, who was clearly so very much loved by the artist who drew him.

Lan Shuoxiao found herself on the edge of tears. It felt like an injustice, looking at these intimate sketches, that history had forgotten Wei Wuxian as little more than a footnote. And that the righteous Hanguang Jun had been immortalized as a stiff, cold and distant deity rather than someone’s beloved whose heart beat wildly in his chest in longing, and whose blood was warm and red and thrummed with reciprocated affection. She wondered how they had found one another, wondered about the history in which they must have been caught up: how did it affect them? What trials had they passed through before they finally found their way to each other’s arms?

She reverently closed the volume, her original mission in coming here put aside. Thoughtfully, she collected up the scrolls and bamboo books and reordered them, and then closed the Forbidden Room.

***

Several months later a new scene was depicted on the climbing path around the residences of Gusu: a beautiful, crowned Lan sat cross-legged in the back hill meadow, covered in a blanket of rabbits. His loving gaze was fixed on the figure opposite him under a peach tree in full bloom, who was standing and playing a dizi. The legend beneath read: Hanguang Jun and his cultivation partner Yiling Laozu, Lan Wuxian.

 FIN

[hootysblog]

Day 24 of the 31 day fan fiction challenge!

This story takes place before Amity gets Ghost.

Enjoy!

You need to stay awake

Amity is pacing on the cave floor. She can't believe this happened. All they were doing was playing around in the snow and next thing they know, a snowstorm hit and they took refuge in this cave.

*** "It's it just me or are those clouds getting darker?" Luz questioned.

Amity looked up. They both looked in the direction of the clouds and could see a storm brewing. They looked at each other and started running.

"Oof!"

"Luz!" Amity cried and ran back towards her girlfriend.

"Go, I'll be okay!" Luz yelled while getting up. Amity stopped running, but resumed after she saw Luz get to her feet. The wind started to pick up more and it was getting harder to see. Amity turned back around and didn't see Luz anywhere.

"Luz? Where are you?" Amity called out in the storm. She tried to trace her steps back and then she saw Luz struggling to keep up.

"Luz!" Amity rushed over and grabbed her girlfriend. Amity looked around and saw a cave that they could take refuge in.***

Luz is shivering and Amity is trying to build a fire.

Amity is getting frustrated, but she knows it's not her fault. There aren't any dry sticks to make a fire with and if she tries to make a fire, that could weaken her. Amity looks over to Luz, who isn't looking well.

"You doing okay?" Luz asks.

"I should be asking you that question," Amity says. "You're the one that twisted your ankle in the snow and then struggled to keep up with me?"

"I'm f-f-f-fine," Luz says.

Amity feels bad. "No, you're not. You're shivering. I need to get you out of those wet clothes."

Luz blushes at that. Amity walks over and helps Luz get out of her clothes. Luz keeps a pair of leggings and her undershirt on. Amity tries to look outside and sighs. "It looks like we're going to be stuck here a while."

"D-d-do you think Eda and your family will n-n-notice that we're gone?" Luz questions.

"To be honest, the twins will notice I'm gone. My parents won't," Amity sighs.

"S-sorry."

Amity walks over and sits next to her girlfriend. Amity snuggles next to Luz.

"N-n-no Amity. You're going to get cold."

"And if I don't snuggle with you, you're going to freeze to death." Amity bites her lip at her statement. She takes her coat off and uses it as a blanket for Luz.

"I want to sleep."

Fear sets into Amity. "Luz, listen to me. You can't go to sleep, because if you do..."

"I'll d-d-d-die."

"I wouldn't go that far," Amity says.

Amity rubs her hand up and down Luz's arm.

"Mmmm, that feels nice."

Amity smiles. "I'm sorry."

Luz looks up at her with confusion. "I shouldn't have kept going until I knew you were right behind me."

"D-don't apologize Amity. I should've said s-something when I fell."

Amity wraps Luz into a hug, while still rubbing her hands up and down Luz's body. They stay like this for a while.

"You feeling better?" Amity asks.

Luz hums. "Actually, I do feel warmer." She looks at Amity. "Look at you, you saved my life."

Amity chuckles. "I wouldn't go that far, but I appreciate the sentiment behind it."

They hear voices outside, but can't hear it clearly until they come closer.

"Luz?!? Amity?!?"

Luz and Amity perk up. "Is that Eda?"

"Oh Mittens! And her cute girlfriend! Where are you hiding??"

Amity growls at her twins, while Luz is blushing, but trying not to laugh.

"Do you feel strong enough to get up?"

"Yep!" Luz exclaims.

Amity helps Luz up and they walk towards the entrance of the cave.

"EDA! WE'RE OVER HERE!" Luz screams.

Amity flinches at Luz, but know because she just screamed in her ear.

Eda flys over to them and pulls them into a hug. "You guys have me a scare. You both okay?"

"Well I sort of sprained my ankle running away from the storm," Luz admits.

"And don't forget you almost got hypothermia," Amity adds.

"MITTENS!!!"

The twins crash into Amity and they fall into the snow.

"Ugh, get off of me!" Amity pushes them away.

"You okay?" Emira asks.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"She saved my life!"

Amity looks at Luz like "why did you just say that?"

*Gasp* "It looks like you're her fearless champion," Edric claims.

Both girls go red, while Eda and the twins start laughing.

"Let's get you two warmed up okay?"

They all gather around a nice, warm fire, where Luz and Amity lean against each other, knowing that they'll be okay.

[pop-punklouis]

What is a typical day like for you?

mmmm.

i wake up around 8:30 AM. take my meds. give my cat his meds. do 30 mins of yoga. shower. drink a green smoothie for breakfast. read for about an hour. do school work if i have any. then do orders for my shop. run errands. come home and make myself some lunch. brew some green tea. watch a bit of tv or youtube. go pick up my nephew from school. babysit him for a couple hours. maybe go to the park with him if it isn’t too cold or raining. when he’s picked up, i help my mom cook dinner. write some features/reviews for my publications if i have any. my dad usually gets home from work around this time. hang out with him and watch tv for a bit before he goes to bed. drink some chamomile tea. then i go up to my room. do my skincare routine. stretch out in bed and unwind with either a book, tv show, or lets plays on youtube. then sleeeep.

of course that changes if i’m hanging out with friends that day etc. but that’s usually the typical day haha

[lallyloo]

Limoncello

When Rhett first mentioned making his own limoncello, Link had mostly tuned him out. Rhett was constantly talking about cooking, or brewing, or smoking various meats – all so he could throw parties and impress people. The idea of infusing lemon peels in vodka for a month just to impress people seemed a bit stupid to Link.

But when Rhett showed up at the creative house on a Thursday night carrying a fresh bottle of limoncello, Link’s interest was finally piqued. It did look tasty. It was bright yellow and syrupy looking and when Rhett popped open the bottle, the lemon smell was so strong Link swore he could already taste it.

“MY LEEEMONCHELLAAA!” Rhett exclaimed as the scent filled the air. He sounded like an old Italian grandfather, and he brought the fingertips of his right hand up to his mouth to do a chef’s kiss. “IT SMELLA SO GOOD-AH!”

Link just stared at him with mild amusement.

“LINK-AH WOULDA YOU LIKE-AH SOME OF MY LEEEEEEMONCHELLAAAA.”

“Sure.”

“I WILL GETTA SOME FOR YOU,” Rhett pointed to the kitchen door, gesturing for Link to leave, “YOU-AH GO SIT-AH. I WILL BRING-AH IT TO YOU.”

“Do you want me to get some glasses?”

“NO-AH!” Rhett carried on with his ridiculous accent, “YOU GO. I SAID I WILL BRING-AH IT TO YOU. GO! GO!”

Link laughed as Rhett shooed him out of the kitchen.

By the time Rhett joined him, with the bottle resting in a bowl filled with ice, his over exaggerated accent had mellowed a little.

“You need-ah to keep it chilled-ah. Cold. Like, with-ah some ice!”

He handed Link a small stemmed glass and Link held it still while Rhett poured.

“You can put-ah some mint-ah leaves in too, but I did not think-ah you’d like-ah that.”

“I appreciate it,” Link replied, “but your Italian accent needs work.”

“You hate-ah my accent?” Rhett grinned at him, “Link-ah! You hurt-ah my heart with your words!”

Link rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t keep from smiling.

Rhett settled in beside him, poured his own glass, and they got to work.

They sipped the first glass slowly while brainstorming ideas together, and Rhett was too distracted by their latest Instagram sketch idea to continue with the accent.

By the second glass, Rhett had slipped back into his accent a little, just when he took a sip from his glass, “mmmm that’s a good-ah leeeeemonchellaaaa.”

A warm, comfortable feeling had settled over Link and he was leaning into Rhett a little more than usual. They were still writing, and their thoughts were flowing freely, but both suspected their ideas might seem less ingenious the following morning in the sober light of day.

They probably should’ve stopped at two glasses. By the end of their third glass, Rhett was stuck in a full-on Italian accent, and Link was giggling so much he was crying.

It was stupid, but the more Link drank the funnier Rhett seemed to get, and by the time he was finished his third glass he was pretty sure Rhett had never been so hilarious. Link couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed so much, and he could only stare at Rhett with fondness as Rhett overemphasized every word and movement. Rhett was laughing too, his eyes crinkling at the edges, and even though it was all ridiculous, Link couldn’t take his eyes off him.

Rhett kept it up, if only to keep Link laughing. He loved seeing Link laugh, it made him look younger and happier, and Rhett would do anything to keep him smiling.

“ARE YOU DRUNK-AH?”

“I think so,” Link grinned, “are you?”

“AH YES. I AM DRUNK-AH AS A SKUNK-AH.”

Link giggled in response.

“IT’S TOO BAD WE ARE DRUNK-A. I WOULD LIKE-AH TO TAKE-AH YOU FOR A RIDE-AH ON MY BEESEEKLETTA. “

“Your what?”

“MY BEE-SEE-KLETTA. ELECKTRIC A-BEE-SEE-KLETTA.”

“Your electric bicycle?” The force of Link’s laughter propelled him forward on the couch, and he wriggled next to Rhett, overcome with a fit of giggles.

“YES-AH.”

“You wanna take me for a ride on your electric bicycle?” Link was laughing so hard tears were coming to his eyes, and he wiped at them as he gasped for breath.

“AH YES. MY BEESEEKLETTA FOR YOU MY LINK-AH.”

“Rhett,” Link choked out, “you can take me for a ride anytime.”

Rhett gasped, feigning shock. “LINK-AH. SO FORWARD. I’D TAKE-AH YOU FOR A RIDE.”

“Would ya?” Link stared at him, almost like it was a dare between them, and neither one was quite sure what Rhett’s reply was because suddenly Link was tugging his shirt off, swinging a leg over Rhett’s thigh, and climbing onto his lap.

Rhett didn’t stop him, he just looked at Link with a surprised sense of awe.

“What’re you..?” Rhett attempted to ask, his accent suddenly gone, but he didn’t mean it. He wasn’t looking for an explanation, or for Link to stop.

Link answered by leaning in and kissing him.

Link’s mouth tasted of sugared lemons, and Rhett’s mind suddenly slipped back to warm summer days at the river, when they’d swim for hours and then sit on the banks and drink homemade lemonade. He remembered water droplets on Link’s sun-kissed skin and the sugary mustache over his top lip, and the one time Rhett couldn’t resist it any longer and he kissed Link, tasting the tart lemon on his tongue and the sweetness of his mouth.

Rhett swore he’d never tasted anything sweeter, but Link’s limoncello mouth came close.

“My leeemonchellaaa,” Rhett whispered in a weak attempt to get one last joke in.

“Oh god, Rhett,” Link laughed, tugging Rhett’s shirt up over his head, “just shut up and touch me.”

He claimed Rhett’s mouth again, sliding his tongue over Rhett’s lips, coaxing Rhett’s tongue to lick at his, effectively quieting any verbal response.

Rhett settled his hands on Link’s hips, touching hesitantly for a second before grabbing more forcefully, pressing hard, holding Link down and pushing up against him. Rhett’s cock swelled and he was overcome with the desire for Link to know it, he wanted Link to feel it as he thrust up.

Link rutted down into him, urgent and needy, letting Rhett know he felt him.

Rhett brought his mouth, still sticky with liqueur, down to Link’s chest and licked over a nipple, and Link groaned, grabbing Rhett’s hair and holding him there. Rhett licked and sucked until Link guided his head over to lick at the other side. Rhett took the hard bud in his mouth and flicked over it with his tongue until Link was groaning and writhing in his lap.

Link pushed him away gently, and Rhett watched as Link unzipped his grey jeans and took out his cock, giving himself a hard squeeze. The head of his cock was already wet and more precum pooled at the tip and dripped down his shaft.

“Look.” Link gave himself a slow stroke. “You got me so hard.”

Rhett watched Link touch himself, his hand sliding slick over his dick as he stared at Rhett, and then Rhett reached to pull him closer. Link arched his back as Rhett’s arms went around him, and Rhett slid a hand down the back of Link’s jeans, slipping past the waistband of Link’s boxer briefs. He touched the soft skin there, smoothing over Link’s ass before slipping a finger between his cheeks, and Link let out a shaky breath as Rhett’s fingers ghosted over his hole.

“Rhett, yeah..”

Link arched his back further, pushing his ass into Rhett’s hand, encouraging, wanting, begging Rhett to touch him there, really touch him, more than just a tease.

Rhett pulled his hand out, slicked his middle finger with saliva and slipped his hand back down Link’s jeans, slicking over his hole and pushing in just a bit, just enough to make Link close his eyes and sigh “yeah, Rhett, finger me.”

Rhett’s cock strained under Link as he slid his finger in further, up to the second knuckle, and he eased it in and out a few times, gently finger-fucking Link’s hole.

“Aw fuck,” Link moaned, “just like that.”

Link leaned over suddenly, grabbing the limoncello and taking another drink directly from the bottle. Then he kissed Rhett again, sloppy, wet, sticky, sweet.

He tasted like tart lemons and sugar syrup and Rhett couldn’t get enough of him. He licked back into Link’s mouth, trying to find and savour every last taste of him as he teased him with his finger.

Link’s hand moved frantically over himself, his cock trapped between their bodies, as Rhett’s finger slid in to the last knuckle and he curved it a little, just enough to make Link moan again. Rhett continued, teasing, touching the heat inside Link’s body, easing in and out until Link was gasping against his mouth and coming between himself and Rhett, wet warmth pooling between them as he fucked himself on Rhett’s finger.

Rhett remained in awe about it all, easing his finger out carefully and watching as Link regained his bearings – his own sense of awe settling gently across his face as he looked at Rhett. Then he smiled, and he looked so beautiful Rhett couldn’t do anything but pull Link’s body up, leaning down to meet his cock and suck him in. Link gasped at the overstimulation, but he just watched as Rhett licked him clean.

When Rhett was finished, Link slid down Rhett’s body, trailing sticky kisses across Rhett’s chest and over his stomach, licking the last streaks of his own cum off Rhett’s belly until he was on the floor between Rhett’s thighs. Rhett’s cock was tenting his jeans and Link nudged his face against it before pulling at the denim covering Rhett’s thighs.

“Unzip, get these off.”

Rhett unzipped and lifted his hips as Link yanked down his jeans, pulling Rhett along too until he was nearly on his back, his cock resting heavy against his thigh, and his legs jutting out from the couch. Link left Rhett’s jeans bunched around his knees, and crawled over him to reach his cock.

Link grabbed the bottle again, taking another swig of limoncello, and then put his mouth on Rhett’s cock, sucking over him, his lips and tongue all sticky and cool from the alcohol. He tongued at the head of Rhett’s cock, licking into the slit until Rhett’s hips were jerking from the overstimulation.

“Link, it’s too much” Rhett groaned.

Link pulled away for a second, “you just taste so good.”

Link tongued at him one more time and curled his lips around the head of Rhett’s cock, and then he pulled back to take another swig of limoncello. He brought his lips together over Rhett’s dick and let some of the alcohol spurt from his mouth, trailing down over Rhett’s shaft, cool and sticky.

Then Link took him in again, sucking hungrily, tasting every inch of Rhett’s cock with his tongue. Rhett wanted to make it last but he couldn’t. Link’s slick, sticky mouth was too much and Rhett could feel his orgasm rushing up quickly.

“Link, I’m gonna come.”

“Yeah, do it,” Link pulled his mouth away for a second, licking down Rhett’s shaft, “you should come in my mouth.”

“Link,” Rhett breathed a final warning, and Link brought his mouth back up just in time to take him in, sucking over him sweet and sticky, swallowing down every shot of Rhett’s cum.

After a moment, Link moved up to settle in beside him, both of them still half-naked and Rhett’s jeans still around his knees. Link brought the bottle up to Rhett’s mouth and tipped it, giving him a little taste, and then Link brought it up to his own lips to take another sip.

Rhett sighed, “ahh my leeeemonchella.”

“Your leeemonchella,” Link echoed with a grin. “So good, my Rhett-ah.”

Rhett smiled quietly to himself, and then nearly choked when Link spoke again

“But I still wanna ride your beeseekletta.”

[bigb5ngaregods]

ship: nyongtory

prompt: dreaming

word count (excluding spaces): 1221

trigger warnings: mention of death

genre: angst

[ sleepless night ] by seunoyuu

( nyongtory oneshots at 3AM )

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

He brewed himself a cup of tea for the night, but he couldn't help but stay up, his body refused to rest and sleep. He sat up as he could hear the elder male shift around in front of his room.

Seungri stood, standing as he went to the door, opening the door as he saw the elder standing in front of the room. Perhaps Jiyong was still drunk? They did drink a little, but he didn't expect the male to get drunk from so little. "Hyung, why are you still awake?" he asked with a curious tone. It was late in the night and slowly reaching eleven in the evening.

Jiyong stared at Seungri, eyes a little wide as he was taken back from the door suddenly opening. He didn't expect the door to open, hoping the younger didn't hear his rather loud footsteps. "Oh, how come you're still awake?"

"Answer my question first, hyung."

"No reason in particular." Jiyong stated as he looked down at his hands, "You should sleep, it's getting late." He added, glancing up at the clock.

Seungri's head joined, looking up at the time. "You too, hyung. Go to bed. To answer your question, you're walking kinda loud with your... shoes still on. Hyung, are you really gonna drive home at this time?"Seungri realized only then, seeing Jiyong with his shoes on.

"Oh, no, no- are they? Oh, sorry! I'm not leaving, I just forgot to take them off." The pink haired lad took his shoes off, holding them as his white socks touched the floor.

Seungri silently sighed with a little relief, he didn't want the male to drive so late in the night. To rephrase, he desperately didn't want him to. "Hyung, do you take anything before sleeping? Anything that can help you fall asleep faster?" he asked with a small smile, gently walking pass him to walk to the kitchen with his socks on as well.

The night was cold, it was a little windy outside with the plants swaying as the neighborhood quieted down to be as loud as a drop of water.

Seungri pulled out a carton of milk, hoping the male would say his usual glass of milk. "Actually, Seungri, do you remember that thing we'd do to help me sleep back in the dorms?" Jiyong asked with an awkward chuckle, following the whitehaired other from a small distance. "Our rooms were right beside each other and the other three shared one? Remember that?" he asked again as Seungri didn't reply.

The man with the milk carton froze as his back faced the other, slowly turning with an unsure look and bottom lip bit. "Yes, of course I remember, hyung... I- uh thought you got over that... Obstacle." he smiled a little.

Jiyong rubbed his neck as he crossed his arms, "mmmm... Not really, I just switched to using pillows, they're just as satisfying... But yeah, that can help me, maybe." he said, the room remaining quiet for a while. He pointed at the carton, "maybe that can help as well." he coughed a little, shifting his stance to face the side, pacing a little.

Seungri moved and grabbed a glass, pouring the milk halfway and then placing the carton back into the refrigerator. He pushed himself off the counter and handed it to Jiyong, the male drinking it as Seungri brought him into the bedroom. Jiyong quickly placed down his shoes outside the bedroom door.

The elder finished his glass of milk within a few seconds, placing it on the nightstand and sitting himself down. Seungri stood up with his face reddening slightly, pacing a little bit with a single step. He stopped in front of Jiyong and stared for a short time, sighing afterwards. "Fine... let's do it." he gave in, Jiyong rolling into the bed and under the blankets.

Seungri took a sip of his tea and placed it back down, laying down on the bed. He went under the covers, moving back into Jiyong's side. The elder cuddled his waist, something Seungri stopped getting used to. Jiyong cuddled into Seungri's back, the younger, not having any complaints whatsoever. He wasn't used to it, but he sure did like who was doing it.

If this was done on a daily basis, he'd probably become the happiest panda in the world. He smiled a little, his face's redness still visible. It was a good thing that Jiyong was behind him, he couldn't see the mess he was cuddling.

"Hyung, you're not sleeping yet, right?" Seungri asked with a soft tone after thirty minutes of the two laying in bed.

"Not yet. Why?" Jiyong answered as he lifted his head slightly to look over at the younger, letting his head fall back onto the pillow.

"I gotta say a secret but you can't freak out whatsoever, okay?" Seungri stated as the sleepiness had got to him. Jiyong silently replied with a nod as Seungri mumbled his next statement.

"What?" Jiyong asked for him to repeat with a soft and quiet voice, Seungri mumbling the whole sentence once more.

"Seungri-ah, can you repeat that?" he asked again.

"Aish... Kwon Jiyong, I like you!" Seungri slurred a little as he was slowly falling asleep with his eyes closed already. Jiyong had no words and Seungri was quietly rambling. "I've liked you for a long time, but you've been blinded with women to notice." he muttered with a slightly pouty face.

"Seungri..." Jiyong felt speechless. He didn't know how to reply. "Same..." he muttered as the other had already gone to bed. Jiyong peaked under the covers and spotted Seungri holding the male's hand that wrapped around his waist. He smiled and cuddled into the other's back, closing his eyes to sleep.

A few hours later into the morning, Jiyong woke up in a new environment, he was back home now. He sat up as the clock showed it was ten in the morning, looking around to see no sign of Seungri, whatsoever.

He got out of bed to see the exact same clothes Seungri was wearing in his dream, on himself. He shook his head, putting on his slippers and going through the house to look for Seungri, calling out his name. "Maknae! Maknae! Seungri, come out!" he said as he went in room by room, making his way to the kitchen and getting himself a glass of water.

Footsteps were heard behind him as he turned out with a smile, seeing a woman instead. "Jiyongie, stay quiet. You might wake up the kids." she said softly, placing her finger on his lips. She had a sad smile on her face, "still on about Seungri, even though we've been married for three years." she sighed. "where's Seungri, Haeran?" He asked with a frown.

She sighed once more, hugging Jiyong. "Baby... Seungri died five years ago..." The female whispered into his ear, comforting him.