#damn fucking shame too because it was an electric bed and could have really helped someone

[april-december]

I fucking hate grief

I fucking hate that my mum is dead.

Because it really is desolate when you have to take your dead mother’s bed, where you spent so many happy, calm, chilled out hours sitting with her, and carve it up into tiny pieces and stuff it into your too-small car to take to the tip.

[mypoisonedvine]

how about a dark bucky x naive reader where he always gets nightmares and she is always trying to help him (making him tea, laying with him til he sleeps, etc.) and one night she laying beside him and he’s having a nightmare and he traps her and says “this is the way to help me” and then there’s non/dubcon since she does want to help him 😳🥺

oh my godddd i love this!!  anon your mind.... this idea has been living in my brain rent free ever since you sent it it.

noncon, yandere-ish bucky, breeding kink, slight somnophilia and more below the cut people, watch out

he would definitely be really sweet at first, even with his brooding and aura of mystery

so it’s impossible for you to resist trying to get to know him better even as he seems to avoid you sometimes

eventually he opens up enough to tell you about his nightmares, and you feel awful about it.  he struggles to get enough sleep and sometimes he’ll try to get you to hang out late and you realize it’s because he’s afraid of trying to sleep at all.

you tell him to spend the night in your room and you guys can hang out and have a classic high school-style sleepover with junk food and movies.  you figure maybe it’ll distract him and maybe he’ll stay up so late that when he’s exhausted, he’ll be able to fall asleep easily.

it’s a lot of fun but it doesn’t seem to help much.  and it gets awkward when he makes a move on you and you do your best to gently rebuff him.   i like you a lot but i don’t like you like that-- i just want to be your friend, if i can 

it’s never an easy conversation to have but he seems to take it well, or as well as he could be reasonably expected to

your next solution was tea with melatonin.  he got to bed easier but he still had terrible nightmares and you had to wake him up because he nearly choked you out in his sleep.

finally, he asked you to sleep beside him in his bed, and you felt a little conflicted about it.

I know the last time you were around me while I slept went... really poorly... but I promise, I won’t hurt you.  I could never hurt you.

you agree only because you want to help him so badly

at first it’s normal, even sweet.  you brush your teeth together in the bathroom, you change into your comfiest pajama set and try to ignore that he’s sleeping shirtless.

you fall asleep pretty easily, and hope that he’s doing the same

but not so much later, you wake up to metal fingers pushing up the bottom of your shirt, running over your hips and waist

you mumble through the haze of half-sleep to ask him what’s going on but stop when you feel his hand slide under the fabric and wrap around your breast.

you open your mouth to speak but no words come out. you're totally paralyzed.

he slides closer and you feel his entire body pressed against your back. he's so warm, it's almost hot to the touch. hottest of all is the hard outline of his cock pressing right into your ass.

he rolls his hips against you and lets out an incredibly soft moan-- that's when you realize that he must be having some very strange dream or nightmare, that he isn't meaning to do this to you.

bucky, wake up! you're having a nightmare...I think...

I'm awake, the voice right beside your ear informs you. that or I'm having the best dream of my life.

you stammer because you have no idea what is going on. w-wait...

this is the only thing that's helped. I never told you, but the nights where I tired myself out by jerking off and imagining you, those were the ones where I slept the best. but it didn't fix it completely. I just know if you help me, the nightmares will go away.

before you can even speak again he's talking over you, sounding less sweet and more stern.

don't you wanna help me, doll? don't you wanna help me feel good? don't worry, I'll make you feel good too...

the hairs on the back of your neck are standing up because you know something is horribly wrong, but you want to give him a chance. still, you're unsure. I don't know...

you don't know? you said you were my friend. friends help each other.

you gulp and answer sheepishly, o...okay...

thanks, doll. I knew I could count on you.

he grabs your hand and pulls it down. you gasp as he wraps it around his manhood-- it's thick, and hard yet silky.

you've never touched a cock before have you?

you feel embarrassed, you realize you must be doing something wrong already if he noticed your lack of experience.  um, no... I haven’t...

oh I don't mind! it's a good thing. your hands are really soft... so much softer than mine.

you stay still and let him fuck into your hand, your face burning with shame even though you began to feel arousal tingle between your legs.

after a little more of that, he moves you around until he’s hovering over you, his hips between your legs.

I wanna try something different-- it’ll be better.

before you can stop him he’s rubbing his cock against your crotch, through your flimsy little shorts, and the sensation sends shivers up your spine.  you had touched yourself before, but this felt totally different.  

with him on top of you like this, you feel so small. his body towers over and envelops yours, but even with all that strength his little moans sounded gentle and vulnerable.

he leans down and you can feel his breath on your neck, his long hair falling down and tickling your face while his stubble scratches against your cheek

fuck, I love you, he murmurs into your ear.

what?! you try to recoil but you're trapped between him and the bed.

don't you love me too? I know you do.

you shake your head, you can’t even believe what’s happening.  I told you, we're just friends

he grabs your jaw suddenly, forcing you to look at him, and even in the dark you can see his eyes burning with anger.

I know you love me. if you don't, you will.

he starts to move his hips back and pull your pajama shorts to the side, and for all your naivete you know exactly what's about to happen.

bucky, please-- don't put it in me-- no, stop, wait--!

he shoves into you, groaning as your unwilling body is forced to accept him

hnng, you're so tight doll. can't you feel how wet you are? that's how I know you love me. god, you feel so fucking good.

you sob and try to push at his shoulders but he's like fucking granite.

don't fight it, it’s gonna feel good for you soon... you just need time to get used to me.

you can’t imagine how this could ever feel good, it stings and makes you feel nauseous-- that is, until he reaches down and swipes his calloused thumb over your sensitive bud.  

your whole body jerks and your fingers dig into his shoulders.

oh, do you like that princess?  

you want to deny it but you’re too busy bucking your hips involuntarily, chasing more sensation

fuck, you’re a needy little thing, huh?  you need me so bad... don’t worry, I’m here to take care of you.  god, you don’t know how long I’ve waited for the chance to take care of you....

suddenly the burn inside you begins to subside and you feel the tip of his cock rubbing against something that makes your walls tighten around him with every thrust. 

you hear your whimpers of pain morph into moans of pleasure, and you can hardly believe the noises are coming from you.

feels good, doesn’t it?  god, you’re such a tease... inviting me for a sleepover-- you don’t even know what that means for adults, does it?

guilt burns in your stomach as you wonder if you really did lead him on, if it means something different than you thought and that’s why he came onto you.

and before that, spending nearly every day with me and talking with me about things I’d never told anyone before... you may have fooled yourself but I knew you wanted me so damn bad.

had you??  you couldn’t remember now.  of course you’d always thought he was cute, that was objectively true, but you were just trying to be his friend...

and now you act so shocked and confused when I fuck you, but within a few minutes you’re moaning and begging for more.  

you don’t remember any begging.

his thrusts get a little rougher and you choke on nothing.

I know you want it.  I know you need it-- need me.

you can tell you’re going to come, but it doesn’t feel like how it feels when you’re by yourself.  it feels so much more intense, electric even, and you’re not sure you’ll be able to handle it.

god, i’m so close-- you’re close too, aren’t you?  you feel so good, doll.  feel so good around my cock.  fuck, you want me to come inside?

no, buck, you can’t-- i’m not--

oh it’s gonna feel so fucking good to fill you up, doll... and i know you’re gonna love how it feels when i come inside you.

you start to cry again, terrified that he’s going to get you pregnant when you’ve never even had sex before now.  please-- stop... i’ll help you again tomorrow, i’ll help you whenever you want, just please don’t come inside me...

oh doll, you’re gonna help me every night now, don’t worry about that.  gonna fuck you again before the night’s over, more likely than not.  gotta keep those nightmares away until I can only dream of you.

against everything in you hoping not to, you come suddenly.  you feel yourself tightening and fluttering around him as your whole body convulses.  

when your back arches, he slips his arms under you and holds you close, fucking into you with brutal speed and force.

fuck, right there-- fuck, doll, i’m coming, oh fuck!

with a deep growl he pushes his hips against yours as hard as he can, burying himself in your pulsating warmth.  you whimper and cry as his cock flexes with each spurt of come emptied into you.  it feels like it goes on forever, his come coating your walls while he sucks on the crook where your neck meets your shoulder.

fuck, baby... you’re incredible...

you shiver, waiting for him to pull out and roll off of you, but he just relaxes and kisses all along your collarbone.

god, I could fall asleep like this.  I sure as hell couldn’t have any nightmares with you keeping my cock warm in my sleep.

bucky... what if you got me pregnant?

oh, don’t talk like that, he purrs, you’ll get me all worked up and I’ll have to fuck you again.

he kisses you on the nose and it’s so disgustingly intimate.

I think I’ll be able to sleep again, at least for a few hours. come on, let’s move over to my side of the bed and you can be my little spoon.

[empower-bi-women]

Hi! In case you write for Tim Drake, I’d love if you could write a smut in which Tim and the reader have known each other for long and the sexual tension is obvious but none of them ever acted upon it until now. Thank you very much.

That pesky sexual tension 

Summery: Hi! In case you write for Tim Drake, I’d love if you could write a smut in which Tim and the reader have known each other for long and the sexual tension is obvious but none of them ever acted upon it until now. Thank you very much.

Warnings: SMUT so if you’re not 18 begone thot, spanking, teasing, dirty talk, cheesy writing? 

A/N: I tried to be a little more cute with this one so let me know what you think. And to the anon who requested this I’m sorry it took so long I hope you like it! Also this is my first ask!! So sorry if the format is a little strange I’m still trying to figure it out.

Word count: 3041 

“Timothy Drake, I swear to god give me back my book!” you chased him into the kitchen where he ran to the other side of the counter. 

“Why don't you come over here and make me.” He replied with a teasing smile on his face. You lunged forward across the cold counter top to reach for your book. He laughed at your struggle “Come on Y/N you know you never won a fight against me without someone helping you.” 

Shit he had a point you thought, everyone else was out at the store. You gave up, sitting on the counter with you back to him and pouted. Arms crossed looking towards the open door. Laughing he walked over to face you. 

“Aw come on I was just teasing.” he put his arms down on either side of you, trapping you in but you refused to look at him. “Come on look at me,” he leaned down to try and catch your gaze but you just moved your head. “Y/N?” he looked at you with wide eyes before they narrowed, “Y/N look at me.” His voice dropped into that commanding tone he used on patrol. You couldn’t help but look up to meet those blue eyes that bore into yours. The silence in the room was deafening. He leaned in closer and closer until your breath was his. Noses almost brushing. Lips almost touching. He glanced down at your lips. 

The kitchen door burst open causing the two of you to jump apart as the rest of the boys walked in carrying grocery bags, chatting loudly. Dick and Jason froze in the doorway causing Damian to bump into them from behind. 

“Now what do we have here?” Jason asked in a teasing voice. 

“Nothing. Did you get my coffee?” Tim said, his voice back to normal. 

“Did you put it on the list?” Dick asked, shooting you a strange look as you hopped off the counter, “what were you guys doing in here anyway?” 

“Tim took my book right out of my hands so I had to get it back.” You replied.

“Damn I thought you were finally resolving that pesky sexual tension.” Jason said through a mouth full of marshmallows. 

“Jason!” You, Tim, and Dick all yelled out.

“What! This has been going on for way too long. We were all thinking it” He tried to defend himself. 

“We most certainly were not Master Jason,” Alfred came to save the day, “and please refrain from eating all the food before it's even put away.”

He grumbled before putting the bag away. You snached your book away from Tim before walking into the living room to finish reading. 

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“Come on please Y/N just look it up! It won’t even take five minutes.” Tim pleaded with you, hiding a smile on his face.

“I thought you were the computer wiz, do it yourself.” You replied, not looking at him. He grabbed the back of your chair and spun you to face him. Kneeling down he looked in your eyes. “Please?” his voice was barely above a whisper as he leaned in closer, “for me?” 

Your cheeks heated up. “I’m busy right now, go ask someone else.”

“Ok can you just check this one thing please?” 

“Out!” You spun your chair away from him but he still leaned down and pressed a kiss to your head before walking away.  You shook your head trying to clear the thoughts running through your head of the way his forearms flexed as he gripped the chair arms. The way his bright blue eyes looked like they wanted to devour you whole. Ugh this man is going to kill me you thought. 

--------------------------------------------------------

That night you were working comms with Barbara in the cave. Things were going smoothly until Tim called in.

 “Hey Oracle, hey angel, can you guys find out who that guy over there is and what he's doing please and thank you.” Your eyes went wide at the nickname he gave you. You could see Barbara looking at you out of the corner of your eye and heard Jason and Dick laughing though the comms. You ignored them as your fingers flew across the keyboard as facial rec worked its magic. 

“His name is Jimmy Figgis. He’s fresh out of bellrev, he was in for drug dealing and black mail.” You said into the comms.

“Well it would be a shame if he got caught red handed doing a deal. He would go back to jail.” Barbara chimed in. 

“Looks like we got a stake out boys.” Dick said.

“It's ok guys, I can stay for the drop.” Tim said, his voice low as he settled in for the night, “I'll have Y/N to keep me company, right angel?”  

“I mean it's not like I have a choice do I.” 

Not even half an hour later Tim started to get bored. And his target was you. Barbara had to leave to take care of some other stuff so you were alone. Tim decided it would be a good idea to switch frequencies and mess with you. 

“Hey Y/N, have you ever thought about us while touching yourself?” 

You spat out your coffee. “What the fuck Timothy!” You heard his laughter on the other side of the line. 

“Well I'm just asking because I know for a fact that Dick thinks of Babs and Jason thinks of Diana sometimes but he would never admit it. And I got curious. Who do you think of?” 

You could practically hear the smile in his voice. “Wouldn't you like to know. You really should focus on the stake out instead of my masturbation habits.” 

“Aw angel I can almost see you blushing from here. You look adorable.” 

“Shut up Tim.”

“Have I ever told you how much I love hearing you say my name? It sounds so sweet I can almost imagine what you would sound like screaming it underneath me.”

You froze. You and Tim had always had a flirtatious relationship but this was a new level entirely. This was dangerous territory. “Don't start things you can't finish Timothy.” Your voice was low. 

“Oh believe me angel I always finish. And I make sure my partner does too.” 

You threw your head back in frustration. “Focus on the stake out and we can continue this later.”

“Is that a promise?”

Before you could reply Bruce’s voice crackled through the comms “Red Robin we’re coming to you.” 

-------------------------------------------------------------

A few arrests and fight later the bats rolled into the cave. Alfred was on standby with the medical kit but there was no need. You shifted uncomfortably as Tim’s eyes raked over your body, pausing on your legs that were squeezed together, trying and failing to give you relief from the ache in your pussy. He smirked at the site of you waiting for him, all needy. 

“Good job tonight guys. Shower and get some sleep,” Bruce said, taking his cowl off, “I’m looking at you Tim.”

Tim just smiled. You both knew there would be no sleeping tonight. Tim walked over to you, his cowl was off and his dark hair was messy. Fuck he looked good you thought to yourself. The look on his face was calm but you could see something in his eyes. All the years you've known him, you had never seen this look in his eyes. It was dark and lit a fire inside you. 

“Do you still want to do this? Because once we start, I'm not stopping.” his blue eyes stared into yours.

“I believe I have a promise to fulfill.”

He gave you a wicked smile. “I want you upstairs in my room, ten minutes. And no touching yourself.” He tapped your thighs that were pressed together before walking away.

-------------------------------------------------------

Your head was a mess by the time you headed up to Tim’s room. You had bid goodnight to the rest of the boys when your phone chimed. Tim had sent you a picture from the shower. Towel low on his hips showing off his v line, water droplets glistening off his abs, and the way his hand gripped his phone showed off all the muscles and veins in his arms. The wetness between your legs grew with every step towards his room. You knocked on his door, the loud sound of your knuckles against the wood echoed throughout the hallway. 

“Come in.” His voice was muffled by the door. You walked in to find him sitting on a chair across from the bed in nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants. “Lock the door.” His voice was low and commanding, not unlike that day in the kitchen. That same electric energy that you felt then was in the room, now magnified by 100. 

“I'm going to ask you one more time, are you sure you want this?” 

“Yes Tim I’m sure.” 

“Good girl,” the praise sent shivers down your spine, “Take off your clothes and lay down on the bed.” Your heart was beating out of your chest as you slowly took your shirt off. “I don't recommend teasing me angel, it won't work out well for you.” You just smiled as you turned around, taking your pants off while wiggling your ass tauntingly. You didn’t even hear him move before you felt a sharp pain across your backside. You moaned at the contact. 

“Aw does my little angel like pain?” he questioned mockingly before coming down on you again, “I asked you a question Y/N, I expect and answer.” 

“Yes sir.” You heard him laugh behind you. He wrapped his hand in your hair and pulled you up against his warm chest. “Well isn't that a nice surprise. I always knew you had a thing for authority.” His voice was low in your ear. Your head went back to rest on his shoulder as he kissed his way down your neck, sucking and biting the skin there. His movements against your body are slow and calculating. Tim always seemed gentle and calm but the truth is that no one knows how he respresed his emotions, and his needs. But tonight he was going to take whatever he wanted. And you would let him. 

“What do you have to say for yourself?” His hands caressed your skin.

“I’m sorry sir.”

“Sorry for what?”

You took a shallow breath. He was really going to make you work tonight. “For teasing you.” 

He turned you around to face him. “Such a good girl for me, aren’t you?” He said softly, brushing your hair out of your face, before kissing your lips gently. Looking into his eyes you could never tell what he was thinking. His face was calm and passive. That is until he let go. And you would do whatever it takes to see him lose control. Even if that meant misbehaving. 

“Get on the bed for me angel.” he kissed your forehead before turning his back on you but you didn’t move. He grabbed a red tie from his desk and turned around, his eyes widening at the sight of you still standing there. “Did you not hear me?” He raised his eyebrows at you, “I said, get on the bed. Now.” 

You could see the annoyance in his eyes. He was starting to slip, you wouldn’t stop now. 

“Make me.” 

Those two words lit a fire in him. He picked you up easily and threw you onto the bed with such force that you bounced. “I told you not to tease me angel.” He growled as he crawled towards you on the bed. He grabbed your ankle and pulled you towards him so he was hovering over you, arm placed next to your head. His hot breath hit your face. “You were being so good angel, what happened? Why are you being a brat now.” 

You whimpered at his words. His hand slipped down to your panties and rubbed a finger up and down your slit ever so lightly. 

“Tim please.” You begged him. A sharp smack to your thigh brought you out of your daze. 

“I'm sorry, what was that?” his voice has a dangerous edge to it. His eyes were wild, “that not what you're calling me tonight, is it.” 

“Sir, please! Please touch me, I need it.” You pleaded with him. He rolled his hips into yours, putting pressure where you needed him most. 

“Will you listen to me now?” 

“Yes anything you say.” You replied, needing to feel him closer. 

He moved in to kiss you, stopping just before your lips touched. You moved up trying to close the distance but his hand was quick around your throat, forcing you back down. “I'm going to eat this pretty little pussy,” he murmured, “I want you to stay still and you must ask for permission before you cum. Understood?” 

You nodded, desperate for anything he would give you. He removed his hand from your neck and kissed his way down your body to your soaked panties. His rough hands spread your thighs open, leaving a wet kiss on both before pressing a kiss to your clothed clit. You shifted your hips up, trying desperately to get more stimulation. His arm trapped your hips down. 

“Now angel, what did I tell you about moving?” He moved away from where you needed him most. 

“I’m sorry sir, please I need you.” You looked at him with desperate eyes. 

“All these years I’ve known you, you've always been a tease to me. Whether you knew it or not. I've been waiting for so long for this, I’m going to take my sweet time,” he growled, “you can lay there and shut up, it's my turn to tease you now Y/N.” 

He dove back in and licked a long stripe over your panties. Heat washed over your body as you felt your pussy gush at his actions. He slowly pulled them off your body leaving kisses down your legs. Leaving hickeys on your inner thighs. He ran his tongue over the dark red marks he left behind. Throwing your panties somewhere in his room, he came back to your throbbing core. Running a finger through your wetness he cooed at you. “Oh angel you're just soaking wet for me aren't you? I can't wait to taste this sweet little cunt.” 

He licked up your slit, collecting your juices. He moaned at the taste. His tongue flicked against your clit ever so lightly, giving you some stimulation but not enough. One hand snaked up in between your thighs to play with your cunt. 

You threw your head back at the sensation of his tongue and fingers working their magic on your body. His lips wrapped around your clit and sucked. You gasped at the sensation, shivers running down your spine. His finger teased your entrance. 

“You’re fucking drenching me sweetheart. You taste so good when you're like this for me.”

“Please sir I need you.”

“Where do you need me angel?” his finger slid all the way in, “right here?” 

Your eyes rolled back as he finally gave you what you wanted. His finger rubbed against your g spot immediately, making soft moans escape your mouth. “Does that feel good?” 

“Yes” You whimpered. He smacked your thigh. “What was that?” He said roughly, looking up to meet your eyes. 

“I’m sorry, yes it feels good sir.” 

Satisfied with your answer he slowly pumped his finger in and out of you, rubbing your clit in tight circles with his thumb. Before long you were thrashing on the sheets, hands gripping the pillow above your head. Your stomach fluttering as you neared your climax. 

“Are you a good girl?” Tim questioned.

“Yes sir.” you cried out, “please let me cum, please sir.” Your voice was shaking as you tried to control yourself. Out of nowhere he pulled away, licking his fingers as he watched you kick your legs in frustration. 

“What the FUCK Timothy!” You shouted as he got off the bed and walked to his desk. Laughing to himself he reached into a drawer and pulled out a condom. 

“Gotta be safe right?” He said with a smirk on his face.

You sighed. “I thought you were just going to leave me there.”

“That's only if you’re a bad girl but you've been good for me so far, so good that I’ll give you what you want.” He said sliding into you. He leaned down and kissed your forehead as you both caught your breath. Once you adjusted to him you tapped his shoulder to move. 

“You feel so good wrapped around me angel.” Tim whispered softly in your ear, as he thrust his hips into yours. Finally getting what you needed. You wrapped your legs around him pulling him as close as you could. Your lips met in a heated kiss as the knot in your stomach grew impossibly tighter. His hips snapped into yours at a steady rhythm. Your legs trembled as your orgasm approached at a blinding speed.  

Your hips moved to meet his every thrust.  

“Tim I’m gonna cum.” You said breathlessly 

“Just wait angel one more minute.” The pleasure almost overwhelmed you but the need to be good for him won out. “I want you to cum with me in 3,” your nails clawed down his back, “2,” your eyes fluttered shut, “1.” He growled in your ear. 

Your stomach contracted as your body shook with pleasure. His hips stuttered to a stop but his hand kept rubbing you, prolonging your orgasm as long as he could. 

You finally pushed his hand away, the feeling getting to be too much. You both lay there next to each other, catching your breath. 

“So does this mean we’re together?” You asked, your voice small. 

He rolled over to look at you, a big smile on his face. “Definitely.” 

[fanfic-me-up]

Birthday Boy || Kaminari Denki

Synopsis: You plan Denki the most epic party, but save the best gift for last 😉

Pairing: Kaminari Denki x fem!Reader

Warnings: M/E+, 18+, explicit sexual content, heavy drinking (but being safe about it)

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: This is for the @bnhabookclub​ bingo event! Huge thanks to @shoutogepi​ for betaing, u always come thru for my denki content, like where would i be without u 😭 This is for Denki’s b-day (that passed lol) but ima just post anyway so hope you enjoy! 💖

__________________________________

Denki’s in the corner overlooking the scene in front of him with a drunken smirk on his face. This party is going down as the most epic rager in the history of ragers.  The spacious backyard allowed you to hire a DJ to come in and pump beats through a bad ass stereo system that even Jirou approved of. And she has unbelievably high standards considering her quirk. The bass is turned up all the way that Denki can feel it thumping against his chest.

You took the time to decorate the rest of the yard with canopies and fairy lights, providing a pretty backdrop over the starry sky. Denki’s birthday is in summer so the breeze tickling his skin was just right. People are still splashing in the pool despite it being ten at night.

Denki sees you across the yard, waving goodbye to the taco man you hired. You actually planned the whole party on your own. Denki had no idea how you balanced party planning with late-night work shifts, all the while keeping it a secret so Denki wouldn’t find out.

Then again, it wasn’t that hard to keep it from him, Denki literally heard you on the phone, hiring the taco man for his birthday, and he still didn’t think anything of it. You made sure to invite all of his pro-hero friends. It was relatively tame for the first hour until Sero challenged Denki to a keg stand, and Denki has no shame so there he stood in the middle of his backyard at two in the afternoon, hanging upside down with Sero and Kirishima holding him up, and guzzling as much beer as he could before he toppled over. The Bakusquad all yelling “CHUG! CHUG! CHUG!” and of course, Bakugou had to chime in, saying he could do it for longer. 

And that’s how all the pro-heroes of the future generation that are deemed “noble saviors” by society end up challenging each other to various drinking games. You got the cheap booze, but no one could tell the difference by the third cup. 

“You say… boobs? where...” Mineta slurs, wrenching his guts out into a flower pot. Poor flower.

Oh. Denki just narrated that whole beginning scene out loud. In the third person. Whoops.

Nobody wanted to invite Mineta, but it was Denki’s party so they all stuck it out for one night. After a few rounds of the typical high school party games in which Bakugou took every opportunity to shit all over - 

“Why the fuck… we’re pro… pro-heroes... playin’ this… this... kiddy… sippy cup shit…”

Don’t worry, Kirishima shuts Bakugou up real fast. With his mouth.

“No one shuts me up! You hear… I- I will fuuuck…” Kirishima pulls Bakugou in for another kiss, and Denki peeps some tongue. Go Kiribaku! Mina, of course, came up with the ship name, she comes up with all of them, but Denki loves the ship name you two share the most. It’s what Mina calls… fuck… what’s it stand for? T-O-P? P-O-T? O-T-P? Denki shrugs, thinking it’s one of ‘em, and that he definitely ships you with him all day every day.

Where are you by the way? Denki needs his fill of you, a kiss every twenty minutes dammit! He hangs onto the wall when he walks, the room spinning way too much, but he’s still able to discern you from the chaos. A halo of light surrounds your figure, giving you an angelic appearance, though that can just be Denki’s vision going in and out of focus.

Denki lifts his hands up to his face, as if he were a photographer trying to get the best angle for a shot. You’re collecting empty cups from people and refilling them with water. At least that’s what Denki surmises since everyone groans when you hand them back their cup.

“Oh no, Y/N, Denki’s doing that thing again with his hands where he’s pretending to be a cameraman! Help!”

Denki giggles at the talking broccoli in his living room. Broccoli is such a nice guy, always looking after everyone, he's the number one broccoli for a reason ya know. 

Denki couldn’t have asked for a better girlfriend, I mean, have you seen yourself? You strut over like a model that could end Tyra Bank’s whole damn career, hips swaying in a seductive rhythm to the marching drum of Denki’s soundtrack in his head. Denki really wants to run his hands all over you, dammit, he’s been hoping to get you alone since this afternoon for some birthday sex, but with all the last-minute planning you were doing, it was never the right time.

“Now’s a good a time as any, birthday boy.” You whisper in his ear, making Denki jump when he realizes you caught him narrating out loud. This is why Denki loves you. You put up with all his weird shit.

Denki lurches forward, wobbling slightly, and proceeds to drag you upstairs. You giggle at his impatience, looking around to find the Bakusquad passed out on the couch and definitely staying the night. No way in hell are you letting anyone go home in their inebriated state. Sero is wrapped from head to toe in his own tape after Denki dared him to mummify himself. Mina is curled up on one side of the couch with her makeup miraculously still in place after all the swimming, dancing, and streaking (yes, you heard that correctly, it was a dare) Kirishima and Bakugou are cuddling on another couch, with Bakugou’s head tucked into Kirishima’s arm. Halfway through the night, Kirishima lost his shirt and he’s just been chilling shirtless the entire night. 

“Hold up, this is too good,” you giggle, motioning for Denki to pose in the middle. Denki looks about ready to pass out next to them, with his eyes half-closed and smile so dopey, you’d think he just came back from overusing his quirk. You take a picture of the chaos that is your boyfriend and friends, and decide it will definitely make it into the scrapbook. 

Denki drags you down the hall, like this is his first time exploring the place you’ve shared for the past two years, and leads you into every room.

“Denki, this is the bathroom!” 

“Then why is there a bed?” He looks genuinely confused trying to pull you into the bathtub. 

“Okay, you are way too drunk. Sure you can get it up?” You wonder if he’ll even remember your sexcapades in the morning. 

“I’ll let you be the judge,” Denki pulls your hand to his crotch, which is already rock-solid through his jeans. You bite your lip, teasing the outline with your fingertips, and relishing in every twitch of his hardness. Denki huffs, clearly wanting to get this show on the road, because he throws your hand off and drags you into the next room so fast you trip over your feet.

Denki pumps his arms and shouts “huzzah!” in victory when he finally finds the bedroom, and you giggle at the loveable doof. But, any sign of light-hearted energy vanishes the moment Denki’s lips are on you. Before you know it, you’re pushed against the door, with your thighs spread apart. Anticipation swirls in the pit of your stomach, bubbling at the newfound friction of Denki’s thigh rubbing against your delicate center. He takes it upon himself to rub his cock against the inside of your thigh with absolutely no shame. 

“Eager now, are we?” 

Hell yeah, Denki’s eager, birthday sex is best sex… well, any sex is best sex as long as he’s getting sex. Heh. Denki should take a shot every time he says sex.

“I think you’ve had enough shots to last you till next year, birthday boy.” 

Fuuuuck Denki didn’t know birthday boy was a thing for him, but now he needs every day to be his birthday, just so you call him that. And oh my god who the hell decided criss-cross straps were a good idea? It’s like a fucking maze trying to figure out how to unclasp your bra. You reach around to unclasp it yourself when Denki whines in frustration. He cuts his whine mid-way, when he sees your naked chest, nipples taut and ready to be played with. Just when he’s about to pinch your nipple, you send him for a loop and flip positions, trapping him against the door. And Denki is 100% okay with that too.

“Tell me what you want. I’ll make it the best gift you’ve gotten tonight, birthday boy, ”

You whisper directly into his ear, nibbling and licking at the lobe. You’re awarded with a slurred giggle that brings a smile to your own face. Denki throws his shirt over his head, but instead of it looking sexy like a Taylor Lautner scene in Twilight, Denki ends up getting his head stuck. You torture him for a few seconds by just standing there watching him get his arms tangled in the mix before finally helping him.

He’s still wearing that ridiculous Pikachu party hat Kirishima gave him, and when you try to slip it off, he swats your hand away. You pull his shirt over his head, and come to the conclusion that it’s not true birthday sex if said birthday boy isn’t wearing a 99 cent store party hat. Nothing can stop the delicious tingling making your pussy flutter. 

He pins you with his sudden change of demeanor, even though you’re the one pinning him against the door. It amazes you how he can change from this doof wearing a party hat to 'yeah, fuck me, daddy' in three seconds straight. The electricity sizzling the room is squeezing your heart threatening to burst, as you take in Denki’s unrelenting gaze.

“I want you naked, on your knees, and worshipping my cock, unwrapping it with your tongue.”

You gulp at the unexpected switch, heat pulsing between your thighs as newfound wetness seeps through. A dark tone colors the usual tenor timbre of his voice. You slide out of your jeans and Denki takes his time ravishing every inch of your naked body with his honey-glazed eyes. He weaves his fingers, massaging the roots of your hair, and pulls you down so your eye level with his crotch. 

“And then you’ll thank me for the gift by swallowing every last drop of my cum.” 

Your mouth waters at his bulge on display, and you can’t stop yourself from mouthing him through his jeans. You nose at the rough fabric, biting the zipper and pulling it down with your teeth. You make sure to look up at Denki when you press a teasing kiss to the tip where there’s a wet spot, pre-cum leaking through his boxer briefs. His lips are kiss-bitten red partnered with a cute flush spread across the apples of his cheeks like he’s been out in the sun a little too long. 

You love every part of Denki, you really do, but he’s giving you the sign to hurry up with how he’s literally grinding against your face. His cock bobs, hitting his stomach, when you pull his briefs down; it’s pinker than usual, he’s been horny for a while you think, and it’s leaking so much pre-cum that it’s running down the shaft. You nuzzle your face in, taking in his scent at the most concentrated part of him. You might burst if you don’t touch yourself, but it’s Denki’s night, and you want to focus all your attention on pleasing him. You’re busy having this internal debate when you hear a gruff voice from above you.

“It’s okay, baby girl, go ahead n touch yourself.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice. You spread your legs enough to trace the outline of your folds and gather enough of your juices to start rubbing your clit in a fierce rhythm. At the same time, you lick the underside of Denki’s cock, following the path of the vein leading up to the head, where you swirl your tongue in circles. You pull off the tip with a pop.

“Birthday boy’s gone quiet,” you whisper, looking up at Denki. It’s true. He hasn’t made a sound which makes you a little concerned he’s not enjoying it. You voice this concern openly.

“Am I doing it wrong?”

He shakes his head, “No, baby, I love it… just… enjoying the view,” his breath hitches at the end. 

Fuck, Denki thinks, how could that even cross your mind? Not when you’re naked on your knees, chest blossomed with different colored hickeys Denki’s left on you from the week before. You’re giving him that doe-eyed look that completely contradicts your naughty actions of suckling his balls. Denki bites his lip when your tongue peeps from your lips to get his cock warm and wet, but what he doesn’t expect is for you to pull away. Denki groans at the loss of heat surrounding his cock. You wipe the spit dribbling from your lips with the back of your hand.

“Babe, I love you and all your weirdness, but I will stop going down on you if I have to hear you refer to yourself in the third person one more time.” 

“But it’s my birthday,” Denki moans, banging his head against the door.

You roll your eyes, tempted to retort with “it’s my mouth,” but pleasuring Denki is top priority, and apparently Denki very much agrees with this sentiment as he forces your head towards his cock. You don’t have time to catch your breath before you’re diving face-first into a mouth full of Denki. Tears spring from your eyes at the shock of his cock hitting the back of your throat, but once you relax your throat and neck, you return to rubbing circles against your dripping clit to the same rhythm of Denki fucking into your mouth. You moan, causing vibrations to thrum around his cock and travel through every synapse of his body. 

“Fuck yeah mmmmm…  just like that, knew you could do it, fuck baby you take me in so good like my cock was made for your tight little pussy and mouth,” Denki groans, unable to filter what’s coming out of his mouth. The sight of his cock going all the way in and out of your mouth, sucking him in almost as good as your pussy, makes his balls tighten and he knows he’s getting close. 

“You like that, huh? You like being stuffed full of my cock? You don’t care which hole as long as I’m fuckin’ into one, isn’t that right, baby girl?” 

You moan in response, eyes rolling in the back of your head, as you chase the high you’re so desperately looking for. The end is in sight, just around the corner. You press your fingers harder against your clit, rubbing intense figure eights, as you choke on Denki’s cock. Your jaw is starting to ache, but you’re at the home stretch now. When you try to pull off to gasp for air, Denki grips your hair tighter, and thrusts his hips forward. All you can do is sit there and take his thick cock, saliva dripping down your chin, mixing with the sweat glistening your chest. Your nose is pressed against his pelvis, so each time you breathe in, the scent of Denki hits you hard, his happy trail tickling the inside of your nose.

“Fuck, baby, you have no idea how hot you look right now touching yourself. Like swallowing my cock turns you on that fuckin’ much.”

The raw power of having Denki above you, saying these filthy things, even with that fucking party hat on, is making your pussy flutter, almost like your body is begging for him to slide into you this instant. As a compromise, you insert two fingers into your pussy and start to rock your hips, riding your fingers in time to Denki fucking your mouth. 

“Ah shit ah… mmmmm you wish it was my cock inside you, huh? Bet you’re so fuckin’ soaked that I’d slide right in.”

You moan in affirmation, your pussy quaking at the suggestion, begging to be filled. The coil tightening your core is about to snap, and your thighs shake in sheer anticipation of the wave of pleasure about to spill. Just when you’re about to come, Denki pulls you out from under him. You only have a moment to gasp for much-needed air before you’re slammed up against the door. Denki slams into you so deep that his cock hits your g-spot on the first thrust. He’s ramming into you so hard that your thigh starts to slip down. Denki picks you up, patting your bum as a signal for you to wrap your legs around his waist.

“Tell me…mmmm fuuuck…how much you love my cock,” he finally grits out, his words getting lost between the sounds of your love-making. 

You didn’t expect to be pleasured tonight by Denki, and honestly, you were completely okay with finishing yourself off, but knowing that he’s taking the time to make sure you’re taken care of when it’s his night turns you on even more. A filthy, squelching sound can be heard every time Denki pushes in, coating his cock with your juices.

“Ah… mmmm… I love your cock, baby - love…  how... mmmm… it fits in my mouth... and fills me up. I love when you’re inside me, and... you fill me up with your cum and there’s so much it drips out… Your cock is the best I’ve ever had… God baby, I feel like it’s my birthday tonight.” You babble in between kisses and moans. 

“I want you to feel good too, baby, now come on lemme hear you scream. I want everyone downstairs to know you’re taking my cock and loving it.”

Both of you are a damn mess at this point. Your hair sticking to your face, and drool dribbling down your chin, but all you can think about is the wave of pleasure about to seize your entire being. Denki feels it too since he starts thrusting at an uneven pace, but still able to hit your g-spot with unapologetic precision, like the sharpshooter he is.

It takes one more deep thrust to topple you headfirst into the abyss of your long-awaited orgasm, and oh does it feel good. 

“Denki! I- oh god- right there! Right fucking there, oh god I-I’m- mmmm...” 

A scream is ripped from your throat, as your back is slammed against the door, your boobs bouncing up and down from the sheer force of Denki’s thrusts. He found his way down to your pussy, making sure to rub your clit with his thumb, so you get the dual sensation. Liquid heat rushes through every inch of you, releasing any and all tension from your body. Denki continues to fuck into you, making sure you come more than once. He groans when your pussy clenches around his dick, but he doesn’t stop riding your orgasm out with you until you’re completely spent. Your body buzzes in the blissful after-effects, but you come back to reality when Denki grunts.

“Fuck, babe, lemme come all over that pretty face.” 

You whine at the dull throb of your pussy, the thought of being covered in Denki’s seed is exciting you despite just getting off. You unwrap your legs from his waist, and make your way down on your knees once again. Denki takes himself in his hand and works himself in overtime with coordination you had no idea he still possessed while being this tipsy. Seeing the outline of his flexing bicep reminds you of how much power he wields over you. You eagerly await for him to finish on you. You lick your lips, hoping to catch any drops of come that land in your mouth.

“Say ah,” Denki pries your jaw open with his other hand. 

“Ahhhh,” you obey, looking up at him expectantly. You run your fingers wherever you can; his arms, down his stomach, his thighs like you don’t know where to hold on to for purchase. He speeds his hand up a little more, his jaw clicks and you see his jawbone protrude, giving a masculine, angular look to his face. Everything about Denki right now screams dominance that you’re wondering if this is even your Denki. You’re taken out of your thoughts when he groans, spilling his seed all over your face and in your mouth. 

“Just like that… fuck yeah… now swallow like the good girl I know you are.”

There’s so much come that it drips down your chest and between your cleavage. He groans at the sight of you covered in his seed, and he makes sure to milk every last drop. You make sure to look up at him when you swivel his cum around like your finger painting, before bringing it up to your mouth and sucking it. You make sure to lick yourself clean, not wanting any to go to waste, and Denki watches with his mouth slightly open and chest heaving, trying to catch his breath, but it’s impossible with the image in front of him. 

Once you finish putting on a show, you get up and take Denki by the hand to lead him to the bed you share. There’s a moment of stillness, electricity still buzzing through the room, but you’re both way too exhausted from the long day to have any energy to really bask in the afterglow. You’re caught up in your own thoughts, but you’re interrupted when you hear a “honk” and catch Denki blowing a kazoo with his party hat barely hanging onto the side of his face. You still can’t believe you came with him wearing that hat; you must really love him. He looks thoroughly fucked out and like he’s just had the best birthday ever. 

Denki’s had the best birthday ever. Period. He turns to snuggle into you, despite both of you being sweaty and sticky. He wants to feel you against him.

“Thank you, Y/N, for today, and for all the birthdays before, and the many others to come. I feel like the luckiest guy in the world being able to spend them all with you.” He trails off as a yawn takes over. You lean forward to kiss him lovingly on the lips. Your noses rub together in that sickly sweet way that everyone secretly loves, but pretends to hate if they see another couple doing it.

And as his eyes threaten to shut, Denki thinks it’s a perfect finish to a perfect night. The end. He faintly hears you giggle, and the last thing Denki hears before he drifts to sleep is-

“It’s only the beginning, birthday boy, only the beginning. Happy birthday, Denki.”

[xaphrin]

Maybe I wasn’t going to use my hand.

Raven woke from her dream with a start, the book on her chest sliding down to the floor with a smack. Afternoon sunlight slid through the crack in her curtains, and delicate, dulcet tones of Bach were playing softly from the speaker on her nightstand. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she lay on her bed, carefully shifting her still-injured leg as she tried to wipe the cobwebs from her memory. Her heart was pounding in her chest and her mind felt like it was racing as she tried to both remember and forget the dream she just had. 

Deep, olive skin pressed against her own. 

Soft, dark hair. 

Even softer lips… 

...buried between her thighs.

Raven groaned and she shifted her legs under the covers, biting the inside of her cheek. Her skin felt tight and itchy, like she needed to be touched or she might split open and all of her secrets would come spilling out. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, reaching for the book on the floor. She couldn’t let the dream rile her up like that. She had far too many things to be thinking about - her senior thesis, her grad school application, her finals in two weeks. Sex was not one of the things she needed to be thinking about right now. Especially not sex with Damian. 

She ran a shaky hand through her hair and opened up her book, her eyes becoming unfocused as she tried to read the words on the page. Her body hummed, reminding her that it had been a long, long time since she felt the sweet release of orgasm. Of that bone-deep exhaustion that left her feeling like fog drifting on a still pond. 

No. She had important things to think about. She closed her eyes and took another deep breath, but her body pulsed again, so eager for something it was almost painful. Raven’s resolve felt weak, and with an embarrassed flush she fumbled in her nightstand drawer and pulled out her small vibrator. She turned it onto its lowest setting and shoved it under the covers and under her clothes, pressing it against her clit.

Oh. Yes. That was exactly what she needed.  

Raven sucked in a soft breath and settled back against her pillows, closing her eyes as she felt the sweet, sharp pressure build inside her. Immediately, her mind was suddenly filled with all the images of her mid-afternoon dream. Damian’s too-green eyes watching her as his tongue traced her, lapped her up, enjoyed making her squirm. He bit her thighs, hummed his pleasure, told her how fucking good she tasted. He curled his fingers inside her and pumped with quick, hard, angled strokes that left her feeling utterly breathless. Her neck against the pillows and Raven sighed again, turning the vibrator up a little higher, clenching her teeth as pleasure continued to radiate through her. 

She wished she could say this was the first time she had a sex dream about Damian, but it wasn’t. This was a dirty little secret she could barely admit to herself. She had been having these dreams for years, but only since their date last week that the dreams had started coming with more frequency and vibrancy. This last one was vivid, and it made her feel like she’d lost control of everything, until all she wanted was to tumble into Damian’s bed and let him fuck her into oblivion. Raven reached over and turned up her speaker a little louder, Bach now drowning out the sound of her vibrator.

Raven thought back to their kiss, and let go of another sigh, her stomach tightening. He tasted like the wine from the restaurant and mint chapstick, and she realized she could have spent all night kissing him. He was stupidly good at it, and he tasted delicious. She bit into her lower lip and slid a hand under her shirt, her fingers teasing her nipple and imagining it was Damian’s hand on her breast. It hadn’t been the fumbling touches she had gotten used to from her previous boyfriends, but something sure and possessive. It felt as though he branded her as his and his alone. 

I want to make you come.

Raven pinched her nipple and her back arched as she felt electricity pool beneath her belly button and deep between her thighs. Her breath was short and shallow, and she could feel the siren’s call her release tightening in the pit of her stomach. It didn’t feel like any time she’d masturbated before. This felt like something wholly different. She swallowed a low moan and clicked the vibrator up as high as it would go, leaving her twisting underneath the sheets, letting the sensation take her off this plane of existence and somewhere else. Her skin was slick with sweat, her breath short and staccato, and her mind was filled with every image of Damian she could conjure. His eyes, his smirk, his too-full lips, his low voice, his hands on her body, and-

Raven came suddenly and without warning, barely muffling her moan with the back of her hand. Her whole body seized up as she lay there and let wave after wave of pleasure pull her deeper and deeper underwater. Colors seemed bright and sounds scraped against her skin, her senses muddled and messy. Finally spent, she lay there, drenched with sweat and twitching, but actually satiated for the first time in months. Her hand fumbled for the off switch, and she turned off the vibrator, letting herself bask in the afterglow of her orgasm. 

Holy hell. 

It took a few moments for her thoughts to congeal back in her head, but she felt… good. Far too good. She sighed and stared at her ceiling, her mind remembering their date and flicking through the moments we spent together. It would have been easy to continue to dislike him if he’d been the jerk she always expected him to be, but he wasn’t. He was surprisingly sweet in his own way, almost charming, and damn if he wasn’t a good kisser. He played her like a finely-tuned instrument, and she loved it. 

Raven sighed and pushed at her hair, chewing on her lower lip as she thought for a few, long minutes. This was not how her senior year was supposed to go - falling for her arch-rival. Who she was pretty sure wanted to sleep with her, and she definitely wanted to sleep with him.   

A knock came from her door, shaking her out of her thoughts. 

Raven sat up, trying to shove her hair back into a bun so she didn’t look like she’d just been masturbating. She cleared her throat and called out. “Come in?” 

The door opened to reveal Damian with a stack of papers and a bag from her favorite burger place on the other side of town. She felt embarrassment darken her face, as though he could somehow sense that she’d just been pleasuring herself to thoughts of him. She tugged at her shirt and adjusted the blankets over her legs, feeling her vibrator rest against her thigh. Damnit. At least it was still off, so he wouldn’t have any idea of what had been happening in her room just minutes ago. 

Without her consent, her stomach growled furiously, but he just laughed and walked in, closing the door behind him. “I take it you’re hungry?”

Raven tried not to look guilty, and she shrugged. “What are you doing here?”

“I saw Donna in the Rec and she mentioned you hadn’t been able to get on campus for a while, so I picked up your papers from your American Lit class and your Baroque Lit class. I wasn’t sure if you needed any of it for your senior thesis.” He shrugged and handed her the papers. “And I grabbed notes from a classmate for you. And lunch for you too.” 

Raven blinked as he set the papers down next to her, and the bag of food on her nightstand. There was a long, slow pause before she spoke. “Who are you, and what did you do to Damian?”

He lifted an eyebrow, his lips curling up into a smirk. “Would you rather I treat you with cold indifference? Because I will gladly eat that burger-”

Raven snatched the bag off the nightstand and glared at him. “Don’t you dare.” 

He let go of a low chuckle and sat at the edge of her bed, glancing around her room. “I’m just trying to be nice.”

“I can see that.” She reached into the bag and shoved a fry into her mouth, never looking away from him. “I just don’t understand what would make you stoop so low.”

He shrugged, but she could see a shadow in his eye, as if there was something he was trying to keep secret from her. “You told me to keep making you change your mind. So… here I am, trying not to make your life a living hell.”

“That’s so kind of you.” She ate another fry. “But I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you. You want something, don’t you?”

There was a long pause and Damian sighed in defeat, casting a sideways glance at her. “I need an out.” 

Raven unwrapped the burger and took a bite. Heaven. He even knew how she liked her burger? Who was this man and how did he know her so well? She wiped at her mouth with a napkin and pitched forward an inch, her eyes searching his profile. “Sounds suspiciously like you need a favor.” 

“I… might have told my father that I was helping an injured friend to avoid going to a gala tonight.” He scratched at his chin and glanced away. “Father said send proof.” 

“You want to take a picture of me and my sprained ankle to get out of a gala?” She took another bite and chewed slowly, watching him through narrowed eyes. If she had only known this burger came with caveats, she would have never eaten it. Maybe. Raven swallowed, still staring at him. “And you’re trying to bribe me with food and kind gestures.”

“Just the food, actually.” Damian shrugged. “The kind gesture really is to get you to change your mind about me.” He smirked and leaned closer to her, meeting her stare. “As long as it works.”

Raven watched him for another long moment before rolling her eyes and sighing in defeat. “Fine. You can take a couple pictures. But you owe me. And I don’t want your family to start thinking we’re dating or anything.”

“I wouldn’t dare subject you to that shame.” He laughed and rearranged the books on her lap and easing her sprained ankle out from under the covers. He propped up her foot with a pillow and rearranged a few things, making it look like she was desperately needing his help, before taking a picture. “Ah. Looks good. You look so helpless and buried in homework.”

She narrowed her eyes. “The entire Wayne family better not think I’m some helpless, vapid sorority girl.”

He picked up a particularly thick book on her lap and snorted, looking at the title. “Not with these kinds of books surrounding you.” 

Raven watched as he moved to the other side of her bed and sat down next to her, resting against the headboard like he was helping her out with her homework before taking a selfie of both of them. There was some clicking as he wrote a message, and then he sent it off to his father. Damian looked down at her with a teasing smile, but didn’t move off the bed. He looked content enough to sit there forever, and Raven was inclined to let him. As silly and foolish as that sounded to her. 

“There. Now, he stays off my back, and I owe you a favor.”

“A favor from a Wayne is like a golden ticket.” Raven reached for her unfinished food and glanced over at him. This felt intimate, the warmth of his body pressed against her own, while the soothing sound of Bach filled the small space between them. Her heart climbed into her throat and beat out an increasingly frantic rhythm, as Raven realized she had no idea how to handle this. The last time he was in her room, they ended up making out on this very same bed and he told her he wanted to make her come. She shivered and closed her eyes, trying to keep her mind from wandering. 

“The frat is throwing a party after finals.” Damian picked up a book and paged through it, as if he suddenly needed something to do with his hands. “You should come and hang out. Hopefully your ankle will be all good by then.”

She shrugged, picking at her food. “Sure. I know Donna and Karen will be there.” 

Damian nodded, and there was another long stretch of silence between them. He fidgeted with the book, and Raven could feel the tension start to spike between them. There was something building inside him, and this forced silence was only going to make it worse.  

Raven sighed and gave him a flat stare. “Whatever you want to say, say it. Because this awkward silence is starting to freak me out, and I don’t know what you want.”

Damian searched her eyes for a long moment, leaning over towards her side of the bed. Oh. Oh. With a mental slap to herself, Raven realized that he was moving towards her as if he wanted to kiss her again, and she desperately wanted to return it. The back of his knuckles slid along the line of her jaw, and she found herself tilting her face up towards him, closing her eyes and waiting for the world to stop. She wanted to kiss him again. She wanted to do far more than kiss, but she’d let herself be content with just this. 

He moved closer to her, the sound of her covers shifting mingling with Bach. She could feel his heat and smell his soap, and it all felt too real and too much. Damian leaned over her, his thigh pressing against hers through the blanket, and-

The room was suddenly filled with a very distinct hum.

Her vibrator. 

He accidentally turned her vibrator on. 

Raven froze, as if she thought she might be able to disappear into the floorboards in order to escape this moment. Damian pulled back, pressing his lips together as he fought back a laugh. Raven reached beneath the covers and found the vibrator, fumbling to turn it off before she shoved it back into her nightstand drawer. Heat stained her face and Raven sunk down into the bed, pulling the covers up over her head, hoping he could just forget all of this.

“So…” Damian’s voice was low and teasing. “I have about forty very curious questions.”

“Please shut up.” Raven wrapped the blanket tighter over her head and groaned. “Can you just… go away and let me die in peace?”  

“If you want.”

She could feel Damian moving off the bed, taking a moment to gather his things. The door opened, but he didn’t step out. A second passed and Raven stole a glance over the edge of her blanket to see him standing there, staring at her with a bemused smile on his face. 

“You know it’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

Raven buried her head back under the covers. “Please. Just go away.” 

She heard him walking back to her, and felt the press of his lips against her head through the blanket. Heat filled her face, and she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to pretend that none of this was happening. 

“Next time let me know…” Damian’s voice was pitched sinfully low, like a warning rumble of thunder. “...I’ll be more than happy to help.”

Raven’s eyes slammed open, and she sat there, frozen under her blanket, listening as he stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him. A whole, silent minute passed as she let his words slide over her again, burying deep into her brain. 

Wait.

What?

[zigtheeortega]

redeemed

pairing | m!raleigh x mc

word count | 6.6k

warnings | cursing, innuendos, mentions of sex

tags | @natesewell, @choicesarehard, @empressazura, @raleighcarrera, @pixeljazzy, @pixelsandkink [tagging people who usually ask to be tagged !] 

author’s note | i’ve talked about this before but i’m not a huge fan of the platinum mc’s personality, so i’ve kind of crafted my own that’s quite a bit more rebellious than canon. i’m obsessed with the idea of an mc who’s romancing raleigh and falls into the same pattern of behavior and it genuinely concerns them – so yeah i play with that idea here! i deviate from canon some but not too much ! this is my submission for day 2 of @platinumweekend as well ! also i had no idea how to end this so i apologize for the fizzle out at the end lol

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As soon as he stepped off stage, he was shuffled to his tour bus, Fiona on his heels. She looked like the human embodiment of rage in a grey blazer, a look in her eye that made him thankful he wasn’t the one it was directed at – or at least he hoped he wasn’t the reason she was two seconds away from a murderous rampage.

She slammed the door behind her, locking it, running to the windows and closing the curtains, peeking out at the paparazzi that no doubt had already tried flocking at the edges of the blocked off area where the bus was parked.

“Damn, what’s the problem? Can’t I at least get my food from craft services? Jesus,” he complained, grabbing a bottle of water from the fully stocked mini fridge, downing it while Fiona frantically ran around the bus, turning off every electrical device in sight.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

She wheeled on him, a few strands of her hair sticking to her lips. “We’ve got a problem.”

“Yeah, you won’t let me go get my fuckin’ overpriced grilled cheese that I know is waiting for me,” he jabbed his thumb towards the venue. “At craft services.”

She eyed him, pupils wide, her anger nearly palpable. “It’s bigger than food.”

He ran a hand through his damp hair, some strands completely drenched in sweat. “Lay it on me.”

And the three words that fell from her lips were soul crushing, his post-show high wearing off in an instant.

“Dom’s been arrested.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He sat up, posture rigid. “What happened?”

“Not here. We’ll talk on the plane,” Fiona said, twisting the knob of the closet door, grabbing the black duffel bag on the ground. She tossed it at his feet, motioning for him to stand. “The jet leaves in an hour. I packed for you.”

“The plane? Where is she?” He was getting more and more frustrated, nearing hysterics. He should’ve felt a bit more shame about how worked up he was getting, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

Fiona took notice, her fiery gaze softening at the edges, the blue flames flickering across his face. “Not here, Raleigh.”

He slung the duffle bag on his shoulder, walking to the door.

“Wait –” Fiona said, leaning over the couch to pull the curtain to the side, peering out again. “I paid off a security guard to distract the paparazzi. And when he does, we have to run to the car that’s gonna pull up any minute now – undetected,” she shot back at him, her icy gaze warning.

Within minutes, a security guard with a similar build to Raleigh sprinted towards the venue, jacket over his head, paparazzi on his heels.

With the camera’s flashing finally pointed away, they were able to slide into the back of the cab, thankful that Hank had connections everywhere. The driver rolled up the barrier without question as soon as Fiona tossed him a wad of cash that she’d fished out of a plain leather pouch.

She shook the pouch, her lips set in a thin line. “You know what this is?”

“A purse?” He asked, brows furrowed. “Is this some kind of fuckin’ trick?”

“It’s an emergency fund. Cash. Not traceable.”

She shook her head, dropping the pouch into her lap, before pinching the bridge of her nose. “When Dom first started getting into trouble, I had to pay off a few people here and there, but when it became more frequent, I had to actually sit her down with her accountant and sort this out.”

“Sort… what out?”

“How much money she needed to allocate to her… antics,” she rolled her eyes, propping her elbow on the back of her seat, hand pressed to her forehead.

She looked drained. Fiona never looked disheveled, but he sensed this was the closest she’d be to it.

“If it’s money she needs, that’s fine. Lemme call my agent –”

“There’s only so much cash I can hand people under the table before it becomes a problem. Not just financially, put publicly,” she sighed, chewing the inside of her cheek. “I’ve been able to cover up the smaller mishaps, but this, I’m afraid, might be the start of something… much worse than disorderly conduct.”

“You gonna tell me her charges?” His jaw set in anticipation, already running through a list of the best lawyers in L.A. that got him off from potentially hefty lawsuits.

Her short locks swayed as she shook her head. “I don’t think it’s my place to tell you.”

He blew air out of his cheeks, leaning into the corner of the cab, legs splayed wide as he tried to take a nonchalant stance. “Can you at least tell me where we’re going?”

“You’ll be glad you have a bedroom, shower, and fridge on the plane,” she said with another shake of her head.

––––

Raleigh laid in bed, aimlessly scrolling through his burner account.

He never really cared for social media under the public eye. Every post of his was either related to tour or the series of brand deals for products he never used. Each page was a personified advertisement – some shit he regretted signing up for.

One drunken night, his curiosity got the best of him and he found himself making a pretty inconspicuous profile, following some funny internet personalities and political commentators. And although he had plans to delete it, once Dom came into the picture, he unabashedly lurked.

He followed her on all platforms, and when he had the chance, he watched her stories, voted in her daily polls, and occasionally scrolled through her old instagram photos.

This time in particular, though, he was looking for something specific without really knowing if there was an answer.

He scrolled to her first post, hundreds down, smiling at high school Dom. Thick eyeliner, layered hair, brace-adorned grin – she was a poster child of adolescence.

Photos of her with Shane at pep rallies, in Halloween costumes, in prom formal wear filled the screen, later transitioning to senior portraits, graduation photos, and dorm photos. A setting of picturesque normality as Dom grew into herself, growing out her choppy layers, softening her makeup, her gleaming smile lighting up each photo.

She grew more beautiful with each year, each little phase of her life coming with a new style, a new little identity or association, Dom’s willingness to try new things the reason she was able to break free from her small town.

God, was Raleigh so fucking envious of this imperfect little portion of her Instagram. If someone were to look this far back for him, there’d be photoshoots and magazine spreads and paparazzi photos all neatly planned. The shaky off-guard photos, the unedited red eyes, the off guard photos, the expressions they made in them… it was something Raleigh never had the chance to do.

Being in the business for ten years, everything was pristine, crisp – always smiling or smoldering, no in between. Sexy and rugged or smiling and happy. Like he had two modes and he wasn’t ever able to exercise those other parts of himself because being in front of the camera was restrictive – while Dom was able to be unabashedly herself.

He was breaking shit just to feel something, to have some range of emotions even if it was a stupid fucking publicity stunt where he damaged property or made out with another politician’s daughter or attempted irreparable blows to his public image.

The more recent the posts, the more calculated her photos got, the phrase “ad” showing up more and more. But even with a skincare brand deal, her step-by-step skincare routine video was on brand for Dom, her bright smile and wit always present in everything she did.

But Raleigh couldn’t help but feel like parts of her were slipping away.

Her online persona was still pretty crisp, except for her style shift – tattoos, a couple piercings, and some edgier photoshoots signified a tonal shift in Dom’s aesthetic, but nothing he hadn’t seen before.

Hell, when he used his first innuendo on his solo album, there was widespread outrage on Sunset Skatepark fan forums, ripping into him for singing about using his dick (even though he was definitely an adult and definitely not a virgin).

But other than her general style, nothing was different. Nothing to indicate this downward spiral that Fiona kept a secret.

Where’s the shift? He thought to himself as he scrolled to the top. When the hell did she start changing for the worse?

She’d come a long way from her clean songs that didn’t require a radio edit. He felt a pang of something in his chest –– regret, maybe? Was he the reason she’d changed?

The questions sent him into a near tailspin, his pulse quickening at the realization.

He was the problem.

She’d since deleted her photos with Raleigh, because their breakup was so public, but he could tell that the shift happened right around the time she started spending more time with him.

He’d been a mentor of sorts, opposite of Avery, showing her the ropes… which meant that he was teaching her how to evade the press, fuck with the paparazzi, pick out industry plants – the whole nine yards.

She was impulsive, daring, adventurous, fearless – all the qualities he liked in himself. But he never thought those traits would take a negative turn, morphing her into a rebel with an affinity for breaking laws.

He could blame himself all he wanted, but he couldn’t blame her for taking the same route he took. 

He knew it better than anybody – it was hard to shift the public’s persona of you. Once you did something horrible to make them hate you, either the rebrands and ass kissing worked, or you get written off by everyone.

Raleigh Carrera was a special case, a wild card of sorts who toed the line, unpredictable, both with his craft and his behavior. The nastier his lyrics, the crazier his publicity stunts were, the more polarizing he was.

And that was no doubt the route Dom was on, heading towards an inevitable press nightmare – if people were to find out the home grown rags-to-riches Dominique Avalos dove headfirst into her rebellious phase with no smooth transition, she wouldn’t be able to Google herself for months without having a panic attack.

She’d changed drastically, but that’s what fame did to people. Some people cracked under the pressure, or they rebelled to show the public they were in control of their narrative… or that they desperately wanted it back.

He took a shaky breath, swiping out of the app.

He wasn’t sure if he could save her, but he’d be damned if he wasn’t gonna try.

––––

The moment the jet touched down, Fiona was in full manager mode, adamant on abandoning his phone, stressing the importance of going off the grid.

“If anyone finds out you’re here, they’ll be able to put two and two together. Why else would you be in the same country as Dom when you’re supposed to be heading towards New York for your next show?” She asked, hand outstretched.

“I hate it when you’re right,” he grumbled, tossing his phone into her palm. “Where are we exactly?”

“I can’t tell you,” she sighed, looking exhausted. He had a gut feeling she hadn’t slept a wink since they’d boarded the plane.

“Why not?”

“It’s a bit safer that way.”

He scoffed. “You’re serious? Look, I’m not exactly thrilled to pull the A-List celebrity card, but this is borderline kidnapping.” 

“Let’s just say you might be able to pick up on some of the language,” she said, turning on her heel to exit the plane.

Within minutes, they were pulling onto a dirt backroad, the small houses they passed barely casting shadows onto the ground.

The town itself was seemingly innocuous – the tiny brick houses riddled with dust, the stone paths lining the road cracked and deserted. The tiny town had turned in for the night, their old Sedan sticking out like a sore thumb despite the old model.

Raleigh squirmed in his seat, twisting the expensive watch on his wrist. He fucking hated this.

No matter where he went, he was noticed in some capacity – so wearing a Rolex and Cartier rings in a small village in the middle of nowhere just made him look pretentious.

He slipped the rings and watches off, shoving them deep into the pocket of his jeans, ignoring Fiona’s calculating side eye (one he knew all too well).

The only light, other than the gas lamp posts and their high beams, came from the building at the end of the road.

The car pulled around the side, flicking their lights off, the driver peeking around before motioning for them to exit the car.

“Throw the hoodie on, Raleigh,” Fiona ordered while slipping on a ball cap of her own, her casual t-shirt and leggings wildly different from her normal outfit.

“Sure,” he murmured, tugging the hood on.

The walk from the car to the dusty glass front door was short, Fiona breaking into a light jog to keep up with Raleigh’s brisk pace.

The makeshift “waiting room” in the front corner of the station was empty, the scratched up folding chairs in crooked rows. The front desk was occupied by a sleeping form, head buried in the crease of his elbow, snore muffled by the counter top.

The other officer stood at the back near an old vending machine, sliding coins into the slot, the clink of each piece ringing out against the brick and linoleum.

No cameras, he thought, after a quick scan of the room, shoving the hood back in its place at the nape of his neck.

The holding cells were farther back, but he couldn’t see her.

He stepped up to the counter where the man was sleeping, giving a gentle knock to the top. The man stirred, unfurling his arms, while the other man in the back glanced up from where he was, elbows deep in the snack machine as he fished out his bag of chips.

Raleigh offered a basic greeting in Spanish, frowning just a bit when both officers’ eyes lit up – the phrase “famoso” and “celebridad” falling from their lips almost as soon as they recognized him.

Yeah, he was gonna use his notoriety to their advantage, but that didn’t mean it still didn’t sting when people immediately tried gauging what they could get from him when they realized who he was.

For a long time he’d been waiting for the day where name dropping himself didn’t get him out of deep shit.

And the day he met Dom, when he assumed she knew who he was, all she did was raise her brow as if to say “Why the fuck should I care?”

It startled him, truthfully. But it was such a breath of fresh air. He couldn’t remember a time before or after that someone showed no interest in him.

The officer in the back jogged to the front, pulling his phone out of his back pocket while asking for a picture.

He looked to Fiona, who was shaking her head furiously, stepping up next to him like her 5’5 stature was enough to shield him. “Nobody can know we’re here.”

He nodded, turning back to the men, trying to negotiate with them.

Yes, Dom’s here.

No, you can’t see her.

He racked his brain trying to figure out how he was gonna get himself – and Dom – out of the situation unscathed if he couldn’t give them a photo or autograph.

“Dom bought me the Rolex and Cartier rings, right?”

Fiona’s brows furrowed. “Yes. She gifted them to you on your birthday. You know this –”

“No, what I mean is, she has the receipts? Or you do?”

“I don’t have them, but I have access to them,” she said, still confused.

“Get rid of ‘em. I haven’t told anyone she bought them for me.”

Her face lit up in recognition, and she nodded, encouraging him to go on.

He dug in his pockets, fishing out the watch and thin bands.

After a quick exchange, the officers took two rings each, and began rapid fire arguing over the Rolex. They tossed Raleigh the keys, stepping out the front door.

“I’ll keep watch,” Fiona said, turning towards the door.

“Hey –” Raleigh said, laying a hand on her shoulder.

She quirked a brow at him. “What?”

“You’re not coming with?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Why not? I’m not even sure what the fuck I’m supposed to say –”

“She specifically asked for you.”

He took a step back, resting his palm on the countertop behind him. “What the – are you… are you serious?”

She nodded once. “She might’ve been slurring, but she was clear as day. She wanted you.”

He blew air out of his cheeks, running a hand through his short waves.

Fiona’s gaze softened, her eyes still piercing. Fiona was a lot of things – steadfast, headstrong, determined – but she wasn’t soft. She didn’t sugar coat shit.

“She’s missed you. She doesn’t confide in me much, but even I can tell she’s unhappy. Be gentle with her,” she said, gaze tearing right through him.

The walk to the holding cells felt miles long – his resolve was shrinking with every step.

He wasn’t afraid of seeing Dom, not at all. He was afraid of whatever part of himself that might’ve been reflected in her.

The cell was empty, save for the curled form on the bench, long dark hair cascading over the edges of the seat.

“Dom?” He called, hearing her sharp inhale of breath as she stirred, bending into a long stretch, her limbs unfurling until she was lying on her back on the bench, tilting her head towards his voice.

God, even when she looked like life had torn her to shreds, she still looked beautiful.

“Raleigh?” She croaked, her eyes squinting to adjust to the low lights. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

She arched her back, stretching again, her long frame covering the bench. It was almost the right level of distracting to stop the creeping annoyance at her question.

“What do you mean? I’m here to bail you out, obviously.”

“Where’s Fiona?” She asked groggily, rolling off the side of the bench awkwardly, trying to gain her footing.

“You asked for me, didn’t you?” He raised a brow, sliding his forearms through the bars, resting them there.

“She told you?” She asked, voice raising in betrayal, a scoff following his silence. “I was drunk.”

“And? You still asked for me.”

 “Oh, fuck off,” she murmured, crossing her arms as soon as she was balanced.

He dangled the keys between his fingertips, gently jingling them. “I’ll let you out if you tell me what happened.”

Her lip curled in annoyance. “You’d really leave me here?”

“You don’t want to find out.”

She ran a hand through her hair, blowing air out of her cheeks. “Alright.”

He unlocked the door and slipped in, the heavy door creaking as he slid it wide enough for him to fit through.

She backed up, plopping back onto the bench, arms lowering to curl around her sides.

He followed suit, sitting a couple feet away from her on the other end of the bench, shoving his hands in the front pocket of his hoodie.

She stared at the floor, clearly waiting for him to make a move.

“So…”

“So, what?” She grumbled.

“So… how’d you end up here?” He asked, trying to remain as relaxed as he could since she was clearly on edge, ready to tear him a new one at a moment’s notice.

“I was drunk. I got in a fight. Here I am.”

He sighed. “Look, you don’t have to tell me everything, but I can’t help you if I don’t know if you’re ankles deep or neck deep.”

She chewed her lip, chin dipping lower, strands of her hair falling forward, creating an inky veil. “Fine. I’ll tell you but… can you not… look at me?”

Raleigh’s face contorted in confusion, but he listened, swivelling until he was facing the back wall, propping one leg up on the bench.

He waited for her to speak. The break in conversation was a bit too long – but before a quip could fall from his lips, she spoke.

“I did get drunk, and I did get in a fight. I’m telling the truth but I, uh, left out some details,” she started, her voice low.

“I, uh, was passing through this town after my last show because I wanted to go to a bar without being noticed. Like the old days. I know it was stupid, but I didn’t think anyone would find me here.”

That was her first mistake. Smaller towns surprisingly had the most dedicated fans – maybe because they’re bored or nothing exciting happened in their towns, but most of his die hard fans came from the middle of nowhere. 

“The first hour was fine, and I was able to drink and dance with strangers. Most of them were a lot older than me and spoke zero English – and I speak a little bit of Spanish as you know, so I could make some small talk, but I was on my own just… enjoying myself and my freedom,” she said, and he could almost see the grin tug at the corner of her lips.

“I noticed someone taking photos of me with their phone, so I got a bit paranoid and sat in a booth in the back drinking for a little while longer so I could figure out my next move,” she continued, before sighing loudly. “I guess they told the local news or something, because by the time I decided to leave, I ran smack into a reporter on the sidewalk.”

Silence ensued again, this time more deafening than the last.

“I didn’t mean to give her a black eye. Or break the camera. Or elbow the camera man in the face when he tried restraining me. I just… couldn’t think straight. I was mad. Intoxicated and wrong, but still mad.”

“I know Fiona’s trying her best to get me out of this mess but… I think I went too far this time.”

Raleigh stared at the wall, racking his brain for something. He was a little dumbfounded that she spilled to him so fast. He figured it was gonna take a bit more digging to get her to open up, but she blossomed in front of him; despite the wilted petals, he was relieved to know she still trusted him enough to confide in him.

“Are you gonna say something?” She asked, a bit timidly.

“Not if I can’t look at you.”

“Okay, then don’t say anything.”

He sighed, settling into his spot on the bench, waiting again for her to speak.

“Why did you come?”

Instinctively, he shrugged. “You asked me to.”

“But you don’t owe me anything. We’re not together.”

“Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t drop everything to come help you. I mean, I’d like to think we’re at least acquaintances, if not friends,” he joked, resting his arm over the back of the bench.

“Sure,” she said, voice straining just a bit. Just enough for him to notice.

Dom was a special kind of resilient – one trait that Raleigh was sure she didn’t copy from him.

He knew that being a woman in the industry was already hard enough – everything from beauty to body standards to raging misogyny was enough to give people reasons to hate her, as stupid as they were.

Raleigh benefitted from the standards in place for men. He was young, attractive, talented – didn’t matter what he did wrong. He’d bounce back.

But he’d seen some vile shit since he’d ascended to fame. So many celebrities fading into obscurity after one mishap. One bad album. One bad interview. One rude encounter. One rumor.

For some reason, despite diving headfirst into troubled waters, Dom bounced back every time, fire in her eyes, her jaw set in determination, her face painted with the look she got when she was ready to face the world.

But whatever she was feeling in that moment, in that jail cell in the middle of nowhere – was enough to break her. 

He heard her take a deep, shaky breath, and he started to turn, but he felt her warm palm on his shoulder, holding him in place.

“Don’t,” she whispered.

He listened to her labored breathing, likely struggling to hold back tears, while he stared at the cracks in the wall, trying to think of something – anything – to console her.

“Did Fiona seem… upset?” She asked, seeming a bit nervous.

“It’s kind of hard to tell, to be honest. She’s pretty intense all of the time,” he laughed, not really meaning to.

He was relieved to hear a light chuckle from behind him.

“Yeah, I figure she’s pretty mad at me. I don’t blame her,” she sighed, another break in conversation ensuing. A couple beats later, she asked, bluntly, “Are you mad at me?”

“No,” he answered with zero hesitation. “I know you’d do the same for me.”

She laughed again, a bit more genuine that time. “Not sure where you got that impression.”

“You wouldn’t leave me here to rot if I asked you to come, Dom. You’re not that heartless,” he teased gently, glad that things were taking a lighthearted turn.

“I’m just glad you’re not gonna lecture me. I already know I’m gonna get an earful from Fiona, not to mention the shit I’ll get from Shane and Avery. I couldn’t handle one from you.”

He grimaced. “Uh, well, you’d rather hear it from me than Fiona, right?”

“Oh, you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” she mumbled under her breath.

“You know I normally don’t care what you do, because it’s your life, and you should be able to do whatever the fuck you want, but Dom…” he trailed off, trying to choose his words carefully.

“I know I fucked up, Raleigh. I don’t need you making me feel more guilty than I already am,” she said defensively, voice raised.

“I’m not gonna make you feel guilty. Just offering some advice.” God, did those words feel foreign to him. Offering advice. He never did shit like this for anybody.

He took her silence as a green light. “You’ve just gotta slow down, Dom.”

Whatever impact his words made, he couldn’t see it, since he was still facing the damn wall. “Can I please turn around? I can’t talk to you like this.”

“Sure.”

He adjusted himself on the bench, trying to look attentive without staring. She was stunning, even with the smudged makeup, the dark circles, the red eyes  “You don’t have to do anything and everything you’re asked to do, but you gotta find some kind of balance.”

She wrung her hands in her lap, picking at her cuticles absentmindedly. “Yeah, I know.”

“I mean balance the good and bad, Dom. There’s a line for people like us and you can’t cross it often. You can get close, but you can’t just dive over it and not expect there to be some fallout.”

“I know,” she said, bluntly, looking a bit more annoyed with each word that came from his mouth.

“You can cause some chaos, but some of it isn’t acceptable,” he said, watching her expression contort in anger. “For them. Not acceptable for them. The average person, I mean.”

“Oh, you’re one to fucking talk!” She rolled her eyes. “How are you gonna sit here and tell me that your brand of shit stirring is okay, but mine isn’t?”

“I’m not the one sitting in a jail cell right now, Dom,” he said, calmly but firmly. He wasn’t used to being the rational one, but he had to be level headed. He was trying to save her.

She ran a hand through her hair, leaning back against the back of the bench. “You’re infuriating, you know that?”

“Trust me, I know.”

“You’re hypocritical.”

“Not necessarily,” he said, propping his arm up on the back of the bench. “I was in the industry for years before I started dirtying up my image. You just got here.”

“And you’ve been here too damn long to act the way you do,” she nearly spat, lashing out.

“I’m too far gone,” he simply stated, keeping surprisingly calm through it all.

“What the hell do you mean by that?”

“I’ve been here for a long time, which means, I’ve got a lot more fuck ups under my belt. Irreparable damage, if you will.”

“People love you,” she said, matter-of-factly, like that solved it – it honestly relieved him. A bit of Dom’s naivete from when they first met was shining through.

“People also hate me, because I’m a little shit who sets fires for fun,” he grinned. “For legal reasons, my lawyers insist I clarify that I’m joking.”

She rolled her lips, trying to suppress a smile. “People who hate you don’t know you.”

He nodded. “You’re right, and you’re so close to the point I’m sure you can taste it.”

“I’m too far gone to save. No matter how hard I try for the rest of my career, I can never get away from the wild card label. Plenty of people don’t wanna work with me. I’ve damaged business relationships. Lots of artists don’t want to collab with me because of how it’ll make them look.”

“Why are you telling me all this?”

“Because I know you don’t want this. You’re too good for whatever baggage comes with being a ‘rebel’, Dom. I don’t want to see you turn out like me.”

For the first time that night, she stared at him – really stared at him. Her deep brown, nearly midnight eyes searched his for any sign of insincerity.

“You’re… serious?” She asked finally, brows furrowed in confusion.

“One hundred percent honest,” he said, nodding.

She sat back in her chair, chewing on her lip, contemplating.

“Can you turn back around again?”

He nodded, wordlessly facing the wall again.

“I left out a few details,” she said from behind him.

“I’m listening,” he affirmed.

“I, uh, was pretty hammered by the time I left, so it was even harder for me to understand what people were saying,” she said before he could speak. “I heard the reporter say ‘Raleigh’ and ‘novio’ and I saw red… so… I, uh… swung.”

His chest clenched, tightening until it was difficult to breathe. He was thankful she’d asked him to face the other direction, because he knew his reaction betrayed his cool demeanor.

“I guess I’m not over it,” she laughed humorlessly.

He ran a hand over his face, racking his brain for a response, but coming up short.

“You, um, don’t have to say anything if you don’t feel the same. I shouldn’t have gotten attached. It’s on me.”

That made him turn, swivelling around before she could finish speaking.

She flicked her head towards the bars of the cell, raising a hand to cover her face. “I said ‘don’t look at me’, Raleigh. Goddamn.”

Years and years of PR training and interviews and he had no idea how the fuck to console her. Partially because he was trying to get a grip on whatever the hell was going on in his brain as well.

Instead, he answered her with a question of his own, a tactic he’d used anytime he wanted to deflect in interviews.

“Why can’t I look?”

Dom tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, slowly rotating to meet his gaze. She sank her teeth deep into her bottom lip to keep it from trembling.

“Fuck,” she cursed, rubbing the backs of her hands under her eyes, the dried black mascara under her eyes beginning to liquidate again. “Because I’m crying, Raleigh. And I don’t cry.”

“You wanna tell me what’s wrong? I know there’s more to it than you’re telling me,” he asked, holding up two of his fingers in a solute. “No judgement.”

She sighed, crossing the room to put some distance between them. She began pacing, taking slow steps as she spoke.

“I might’ve fucked up my career and I keep letting people down and I’m destructive because this whole fame thing isn’t what I signed up for and I didn’t think I’d cave under pressure like every other mid twenties child actor who goes through a premature mid-life crisis, but here I fucking am,” she said, nearly out of breath by the end.

His legs carried him across the room before he could think twice, pacing towards her while she strode across the room in the opposite direction.

“God, I’m so fucking stupid –”

“Stop. You’re not stupid.”

“I am,” she said, wheeling on him. “And – and I’m embarrassed. I’m embarrassed that my manager and – and my ex –” She stopped in her tracks, rubbing a palm over her forehead, shutting her eyes.

He reached out to her, but let his hand fall almost immediately.

“My acquaintance had to fly out to a fucking village in the middle of nowhere to bail me out –” 

“Dom, stop –”

“– because I fought a fucking reporter over not being able to handle my fucking feelings –”

“Dom –”

“– like an adult with a functioning frontal lobe all because I love someone who –”

Her eyes popped open, her expression horrified. “Oh my god, I’m – I –”

She dug the heel of her hands into her eyes, dropping into a squat. “Fuck, fuck, Goddammit –”

“Did you just –”

“Yeah, Raleigh, I did. Don’t make me feel worse, alright? I know I fucked up,” she groaned from her heap on the ground.

“You just said you love me, Dom. I think I’m allowed to react,” he said, a slight teasing to his voice.

She glanced up, glaring. “Okay, then, react.”

Her gaze was fiery, her deep brown irises challenging – something else a bit more vulnerable lying beneath.

She was terrified.

He leaned down, gripping her around the waist to pull her back up, wrapping his arms around her upper back, hugging her to his chest.

She melted into his arms, relaxing and leaning into his embrace.

“I didn’t mean to say it,” she murmured into his chest.

“So do you?” He asked, chin gently balanced on her head.

“What?”

“Do you love me?”

“I don’t know,” she said truthfully, voice small.

“You don’t have to know. I don’t know either,” he said, just as earnest, feeling her tense in his arms. “But I do know that I like you enough to want you around, and that counts for something, right?”

She laughed (as genuine as he’d heard it), leaning back to look at him. “Yeah, it does.”

Their bodies were still pressed together, Dom’s chin tilted upwards towards him, their faces nearly touching.

“If this gets out, don’t let anyone make you feel like you’re a bad person,” he said, voice low. “You’re the best person I know –”

Dom closed the gap between them, capturing his lips in an intense kiss. He cupped her face in his palms and held her in place, moaning into her parted lips.

God, there was nothing that compared to kissing her. Nobody matched up. He’d made out with a lot of people since he was flung into stardom at sixteen, and no one – absolutely no one – left him in a daze like she did.

She gripped the strings of his hoodie, pulling him closer, sighing contentedly against him.

The smell of her shampoo mixed with the sweet scent of her skin and the warmth of her hands and her chest flush against his – it was the next best thing to being inside of her.

He pulled back, trying to catch the dreamy, half-lidded look she always got when they parted.

“So… did you take your jet here?”

He smirked and rolled his eyes. “Out of context, that sounds so superficial.”

She grinned, her first genuine smile that night. “Oh, but you’re not? Hanging around a rising artist to cling to relevancy?”

He laughed, the sound reverberating off of the walls. “I really am rubbing off on you, aren’t I?”

“Yep. The good and bad,” she agreed, still smiling at him.

“The good?” He shook his head. “Nah, I’m not so sure about that.”

“You’re literally the reason I haven’t walked out on my label and moved to bum fuck nowhere and lived off the land,” she said, shrugging. “You taught me how to have fun. You were the only one keeping me sane.”

He thought he was the one encouraging her to leap over the edge, but he was the one tugging her arm back.

The whole time he was convinced he was a bad influence, but he was doing some good – for her.

But with that revelation came the guilt at her words.

“‘Were’?”

“Well, we don’t really talk anymore. I haven’t seen you in weeks.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t care about you.”

“Yeah,” she chewed her lip, stepping back, unraveling herself from his embrace. “I’m sorry.”

That was a slap to the face. Dom rarely apologized, because if she felt she was right, she wasn’t going to budge. She was stubborn as hell.

“Huh? Why?” “I don’t want to guilt you into spending time with me… or feeling things for me,” she said, rubbing her arm. “I didn’t mean to corner you.”

“You didn’t. I wanted to come.”

She glanced up, blinking at him. “No, you didn’t –”

“I did,” he emphasized, slipping her hand into his, intertwining their fingers. “I kinda missed being forced to hang out with you. Feels like old times.”

She couldn’t stop the laugh from ripping from her, this one louder than the last. “Oh, shut up.”

“No, but seriously, I’m here for you. Whatever you need. Always.”

“Thank you.” With her free hand, she punched his shoulder lightly. “You’ll regret that sooner or later.”

“Nah,” he said, lip curling into a smirk. “I don’t think I will.”

––––

[tintentrinkerin]

Harness & Spears Chapter 6/10

Warning: oral sex

Read below the cut or on AO3

It was a drive of around 6 hours and Sam and Jack needed to take two short breaks to refuel the car and Jack needed some fresh air one hour before they reached their destination. He got travel sick for the first time ever. But they took another car, neither the Impala nor the car Jack drove when he sneaked to Gilead. Jack still felt weird when they arrived at the motel.

Checking in was quick. Jack was surprised which motel Sam chose and Sam just gave him a smirk.

“This is luxurious!”, Jack calls out when they enter their room on the fourth floor.

“Yes, it is luxurious compared to what Dean and I are used to, we lived in really shabby stinky rooms more than once.”

Sam is wise enough to not just start telling tales of the ‘good old times’ with Dean, because that is not what Jack wants to hear right now. Dean is a topic they will avoid for as long as they’re here.

“I would say, I unpack our stuff, prepare some tea and you get better with your sickness, hm?”

Jack turns around. He isn’t that sick anymore, but Sam just offered him some pampering, how could Jack say no to that?

“Are you sure? I can help you with unpacking.”

Sam already opened his suitcase and now starts packing folded shirts and shorts in the cupboard. He turns around to Jack with a grin.

“It’s no bother, just unwind a little, take a nap while I unpack. Won’t take long.”

Jack fills the electric cattle with water and chooses a tea from the tea table. He hasn’t seen any of these so far, it seems very european, at least that’s what Sam told him, when he once was in Ireland. But he is also super curious what Sam packed. While the kettle starts working and Jack chooses fennel tea he looks over to Sam. It looks like he packed a lot for a week trip. Sam is the neater of the two brothers and carries extra underwear, even a hair dryer, three pairs of shoes. They haven’t decided on which disguise yet, but since it was a ghost hunt that had zero body count yet, they would maybe go with the ‘paranormal activity journalist’ thing, even though Jack loved also being FBI. After Cas told him after the teddy bear case he probably wasn’t the best actor in the field, he would let Sam talk anyway. Sam was big and earnest and super convincing.

Jack hears a rustling and how Sam hurries to hide what he was about to unpack back in his rucksack.

“What was that?”, Jack asks with a raised eyebrow.

On their drive here Sam chose to do the whole ride and while riding shotgun Jack played on his smartphone and he did what he always does since he and Sam are together. He educates himself about sex. He knows Sam will show him everything one day and also answer a lot of questions, but some things he just doesn’t spill. Jack is dying for answers, all the time, every waking minute with Sam. And that looked like a foil package of condoms.

Sam blushes and zips his bag, avoiding eye contact.

“Nothing, nothing that’s important.”

The kettle is done and Jack fills a mug with hot water and adds to bags of tea. He likes his tea strong and intense.

“Sam, that looked like condoms.”

Sam looks like caught in the act. And then he lets his shoulders hang.

“Yes, but it’s an old bag, I- I didn’t unpack it completely. They might have expired anyway.”

Jack is a little disappointed. Of course he had his hopes high for a second.

“Hey, baby, please don’t be disappointed.”

Sam shuffles the bag aside and invites Jack on the big king size bed. Damn it would be the perfect occasion. They’re alone and what did Sam just say yesterday? That he wants to be with Jack. And yes, yes, they are together almost all the time and they do the most exciting and thrilling things, Jack is regularly blown away and unable to form coherent statements when Sam is done with him, but… deep inside Jack he is aching for what people call ‘the first time’ and make a big fuss about. Jack reads a lot. He doesn’t like adult movies or porn, though, it’s tacky and he feels like this kind of intercourse in porn doesn’t resemble in the slightest what Sam and him would have. But how could he know if Sam didn’t show him?

Jack follows the invitation after a little hesitation, gets out of his shoes and opens his jeans, his belly hurts and Sam told him reducing pressure would, thus unbuttoning his pants or take them off completely. Sam also is barefoot now, out of his pants and Jack dives in his arms.

“I’m sorry, Jack, I know you want it. And I didn’t want to raise your hopes.”

“Is this all because I’m a virgin and you would be my first? And you have to stay pure and a virgin for as long as possible”, Jack asks quietly.

“Did you browse weird purity websites, Jack? Virginity is just a concept. The human body is made for having sex at one point in their life. That’s why you go through puberty, start having sexual feelings, breasts and penis grow, wet dreams, periods… all of this. Shaming someone for having sex is like shaming monkeys to climb trees. It’s bullshit. It’s sexist. I love being your first, but not because I think you’d be ‘unclean’ if someone else before me had sex with you, I just like the intimacy, being able to get to know you well enough to know what’s the best pleasurable way for you. And I’m very damn glad Hunter didn’t lay a finger on you.”

“But why don’t we have sex then?”, Jack asks with a trembling ache in his chest.

“You might be a virgin, but why I’m going slow is because I like going slow per se. I had sexual encounters that happened on the day the person and I met, and it was passionate and great and all, but… you remember the tacky jokes from Cas and Dean, that my cock is deadly?”

Jack chuckles, then nods. “Yeah.”

“That really happened a lot. I thought I liked someone, and then they were possessed by a demon, were a werewolf, I even had a sexual relationship with someone from whom I knew was a demon and that was even the whole point. I did it when I was mourning Dean. Later Dean stabbed her after-”

Sam swallows deeply.

“She, Ruby, was responsible for Lucifer to be freed from the Cage the first time. She tricked us into opening all the portals.”

“Oh. I don’t know what to say, Sam. I’m sorry.”

“None of this is your fault.” Sam says with a bitter undertone. “Back to the actual topic. I’ve been through a lot of experiences that seemed pleasant maybe, sexually, but in the end they got hurt, or I got hurt. I had a lot of people violate my body.”

Jack stiffens and attempts to get up, protesting.

“I would never-”, he calls out.

“Yes, you wouldn’t . I know that.”

But your maker did , Sam thinks bitterly. But when he looks at Jack, he sees Cas. Never Lucifer. And still he has issues to fully give in.

“But, Sam… I wished we could go further. I know you think I’m just a horny teenager but I feel-”, Jack clears his throat and winds out of the embrace to take a sip of his tea. It’s hot and he burns his tongue.

“I really like you, Sam, I want to be as close to you as possible. It’s a consuming feeling, it’s eating me up. I would say it’s wildly romantic to be so horny for each other, but I’m aching inside for you. Sam… I-”

Jack can’t make himself say it. “I want you so bad. ”

Sam takes the cup out of Jack’s hand and puts it on the nightstand. Slowly pulling Jack in his hug again, this time in his lap. Jack melts everytime when Sam does that and Jack can see in Sam’s face that he knows.

“Jack, believe me, I want you too. I want you a lot. It’s hard to resist you, oh, sometimes I feel like it’s impossible.”

It’s wonderful to hear that, it’s healing the aching, but only for a little and Jack knows it will come back at him even worse. He sighs and enjoys the shivers down his spine when Sam’s hand circles on his back, between his shoulder blades; a familiar motion. Never failing to make Jack either even hotter or calm him down. Sometimes it’s hard for him to differ which feeling is which. With Sam everything is right and upside down at the same time. Secretly Jack envies all of Sam’s lovers. And to hell with it, he is jealous that Dean had to have Sam so close for all these years, see him in puberty, see him maybe feeling lust for the first time-

It takes Jack a second to realize he’s just thinking about brothers, just that with the Winchesters nothing really surprises him anymore. Not even his own fantasy of teenage Sam, in full hormonal rage, humping pillows, like Jack once did when he didn’t know what the feeling he experienced really meant and how to prolong or end it.

“You’re still very victorious of resisting my qualities.”

“You sound like a dandy”, Sam chuckles, “Believe me it’s a daily struggle to not just…”

Jack’s stomach sinks and his groin is painfully hard and hot in a matter of milliseconds.

“Not just what, Sam?”, he whispers.

Sam turns both of them around and Jack lands on his back, squealing a little. It’s such an innocent, young sound that Jack has to recognise himself he sounds young and inexperienced. Sam shoves Jack’s shirt up to his armpits.

“Sam?”

Jack’s voice is shaky.

“I will show you how much I want you, okay?”

“I’m certainly not stopping you, please show me.”

He pushes up on his arms, looking down at Sam, who pulls down Jack’s shorts.

“How’s your stomach?”, he asks, kissing Jack’s abs.

Oh, fuck. Jack has to let his head fall back and he stares on the ceiling, thin blue waves dancing in his eyesight.

“My stomach? Miracle cure” he says with a raw groan.

As soon as Sam touches him in a certain way, Jack just elevates, his senses focus on what they’re doing and probably the motel could just go down in a blast of flames and Jack wouldn’t even notice he’s burning alive.

Sam’s long hair tickles Jack’s skin and he chuckles and winds a little, Sam holds him steady, there will always be one strong arm along Jack’s spine, supporting him, showing him that Sam won’t let go. And that he’s Sam’s. Jack would never ever let anyone else touch him like that. One hand digs deep in Sam’s hair, strong brown streaks, slightly curling. Unsure if to push him further down or pull him back up Jack just holds on, feels for Sam’s lips, his slick and talented tongue, waiting for the next sensation, waiting for his own wishes to form words, then sentences.

“Sam, I want you, I don’t wanna wait any longer…”

The kisses upwards stop and Sam looks up, lips wet and glistening, tongue flicking over his lower lip. It’s obscene as it is beautiful.

“I will make it worth the wait, Jack. Believe me, there are so many unbelievably good things we can do…”

“I want you… really, I want you… inside me.” Jack’s words splatter out of his mouth and he’s aroused yet a little ashamed.

Sam hikes up completely and lays Jack down. Kisses the ‘but’s and ‘when’s and ‘want’s away. Jack struggles, frustrated and horny, mood shifting between whiny and angry.

“You will, Jack. You will get everything you want and more. Please give it a little more time. It won’t be long, I promise. I know how you feel.”

A single mad tear rolls down Jack’s face.

“Sam, I want to be so much closer, I need to feel part of you in me…”

Sam kisses away the tear, tastes the salt. Jack is a shaking, needy mess, legs spread, shirt shoved up under his chin. Nipples hard, goosebumps all over and a raging hard cock between them.

“Are my fingers okay, too?”

Jack nods frantically. He remembers the orgasm that was so mind blowing and got ruined by Dean and Cas running into them.

“Yes, again, please.”

And Sam is a keeper of his promises.

Jack is shaken to the core before Sam even penetrates him. It’s a delight to see, only the sight of Jack’s golden eyes, the slight quakes, he’s so responsive in a unique way and it’s only for Sam. If Jack only knew how hard it really is for him to not just take the boy here and now, thrust in this perfect pale mannequin body, Sam has never seen anything so breathtaking. Of course he wants to feel Jack’s insides, he wants to drain the last drop of cum out of him while Jack rides him, GOD , Sam would do a lot to experience that in a complete guilt free and perfect way, like Jack deserves. Part of him wants to mark the naphil as his, show everyone that Sam is the luckiest man alive, because Jack chose him. Damn, fucking him until he’s loose and barely able to utter anything else than faint moans or sobs, yes, Sam wants to make Jack never forget the sex they’ll have. But he can’t. Not yet.

If Jack only knew that corrupting something so beautiful, so rare, so graceful strikes Sam with such terror -- to do it wrong. To disappoint.

If Jack only knew that Sam isn’t the strong indestructible man he might appear like. That things inside him are just broken and cannot be fixed. And it could destroy what they have. And Sam can’t have Jack shatter on the truth. He wants Jack to shatter on his body, shaking and in extacy. And in perfect bliss.

“Sam, please”, Jack coos.

Sam will not just give Jack his fingers, he’ll give him his tongue and mouth. Jack’s cock is full, red, tip glossy with precum Sam spread across already. He doesn’t hesitate to press the tip of his tongue on the bundle of nerves right underneath the glans while wrapping his lips around the tip. Jack sounds broken, his hips jerk and he simultaneously tries to pull away, his hands in Sam’s hair.

“Sam, so much! It’s so much!”

“Is it good much or bad much, baby?”

“Good”, Jack admits, “it was in a movie and when I saw it…”

Jack covers his mouth with his shivering hand, biting his finger.

“It was good?”

Jack nods.

“I won’t go on if you think it’s too much.”

“Oh, I… I don’t know Sam, it’s really hot, but what if I spill…”

Sam chuckles.

“Don’t worry about it.”

While talking he gently keeps jerking and Jack relaxes a little.

“I don’t want you to stop Sam, I want all of it.”

“Sure?”

“Yes, please keep going. Can I watch you?”

Jack looks down and Sam sees nothing but longing in his eyes. Good.

Sam laughs. “Of course, feel free.”

Jack already tastes a little salty from precum and Sam goes slow, it’s a new sensation and it’s just a matter of time until Jack won’t be able to hold his orgasm anymore. Sam risked it to take two fingers for Jack this time, circling his sweet spot steadily and sucking him in the same slow torturing rhythm. Jack’s hand in his hair clenches and relaxes before also his other hand grasps for some loose strands. His noises are so sweet, Sam’s cock jumps and aches with every new little ‘oh’ or whispered name it’s harder to stay patient and noble. Sam’s primitive part wants to go on without any mercy, suck Jack off, fuck this tight sweet ass with until he’s sore and force orgasm after orgasm out of this beautiful boy.

Jack’s breath hitches and his hips thrust up in Sam’s mouth, not enough to make him gag but enough to make his mouth water even more, make the blowjob sloppy and full of wet noises. Immediate reactions. Moaning. Fingernails scratching his scalp.

“Sam! I’m….”

Jack doesn’t need to finish that sentence, Sam can feel it coming. Jack’s cock grows even harder, a little bigger - or is that wishful thinking? - and Sam can’t resist to swallow as deep as possible, his fingers ramming into that tight hole -- fuck, Sam is about to cum himself untouched just by how Jack feels, tastes and these sounds. Fuck, these sounds should be forbidden.

“Close”, Jack cries, “Sam, so close!”

Sam would love to answer, give Jack some encouraging answers but he can’t stop now. He wants to feel Jack filling his mouth, he wants everything Jack can give right now. It should be painful, how Jack clings onto his hair, pulling and ripping. It isn’t.

With some firm and frantic rubs of Jack’s prostate and Sam moaning with his mouth full of cock the boy arches his back and cries so sweetly, his legs crossed behind Sam’s back start pressing them even closer together, his hands push and pull.

“I’m coming”, Jack’s voice is clear as a bell, no trembling.

And then he shoots his cum, thick hot spurts in Sam’s mouth and while Jack gasps and moans so loud the neighbors might hear, Sam swallows and keeps stroking, keeps sucking.

If Sam only looked up, he could see the molten glowing honey shade of Jack’s angel eyes, wide open, his shaking body and a faint blue light illuminating the face perfectly shaped like marble, Grace surrounding him like a halo.

Light bulbs pop and TV starts crackling -- just seconds later everything turns quiet.

Sam looks up, catching the rest of cum with his thumb from his lips and licks it up. Jack looks down at him, his eyes teary and still shining a little.

“Sam…”, he croaks.

Sam crawls up and Jack immediately snuggles up into an embrace.

“Did you just cause a blackout?”, Sam asks with a grin.

Jack sobs. “I think so... It was…”

“Yes, I felt it. Overwhelming?”

“I still feel like I’m shaking…”

Sam hugs him tighter. “You are still shaking a little. I will hold you.”

It takes a little for them to calm down. Actually, Sam can’t calm down, he is tenting his boxer briefs. There’s no way to hide it. Jack shifts, a hand runs under the fabric. Sam forgets to breathe for a moment.

“You don’t have to”, he whispers.

Jack doesn’t stop.

“But I want to.”

[settersprouts]

꒦ ikanaide : chapter four ! ꒦

半神

. . : oikawa is the son of athena, while iwaizumi is the son of ares. both godly parents are known to be rivals, but what does that mean for their children ?

or, hq + percy jackson au, where oikawa is not the son of aphrodite for once, but people still think he is because he's pretty, and he's flattered and confused.

. . : okay hear me out, oikawa is known to be strategic and analytical, which is perfect for a descendant of athena. that is my reasoning for this alr dont attack me pls also, vv sorry this was late, i was feeling like shit all week and couldn't finish m sorry :((( hopefully you guys didn't wait too long :((

iwaizumi's about had enough of his bullshit.

his fists were shaking as he stood in front of his divine cabin, the front door ajar and an absolutely horrid smell wafting out from the cabin. he stepped closer to the cabin, stiffening even more as he pushed the door open the rest of the way. the whole place was absolutely trashed- both his and his other roommates' clothes mixed together in many piles on the floor. he could tell just from the strategically placed items all around the room that the place was definitely rigged with mediocre traps. nothing would kill him, but it would most likely maim him.

the demigod growled, stepping over the tripwires on the floor and grabbing his khopesh. it was charged with electricity, thanks to yū nishinoya from cabin one. in exchange for the many weapons the son of ares' crafted, the son of zeus would help charge a select few and give them back to him.

the added energy would definitely be helpful for when he beat the absolute shit of a certain demigod.

he was seething with bloodlust as he stepped out of his cabin, walking towards the beach, where he knew the person he was looking for would be.

and there he was. sitting in one of the little tide pools, talking with one of the sea nymphs. she was way too close to him, but oikawa didn't look like he minded in the slightest. or he didn't notice, one of the two.

she bent down to whisper in his ear, his pupils growing smaller in his brown eyes, and he let out a laugh. it was really melodic, which was common for a son of aphrodite. their beauty was immaculate, and they were practically irresistible to everyone, unless you had a decent sense of self control. iwaizumi knew that oikawa had the whole camp under his fingertips. except for him.

iwaizumi let out a groan, clenching his fists. fuck morales. he knew that his father and oikawa's mother were on really good terms, but he couldn't help but feel attracted to the absolute need to punch the brunette in the face. with a concrete slab. or choke him with aphrodite's famous scarf. one of the two.

he let out an animalistic growl, drawing the attention of oikawa and the unnamed sea nymph. oikawa blinked at him, unimpressed, while the nymph shrieked and dove back into the ocean with a splash. oikawa glanced at the bubbles where the nymph had disappeared, and let out an unamused sigh.

`oh, well, she was kind of boring anyways,` he said nonchalant, stepping out of the pool, buck-naked, without a care in the world. iwaizumi's eyes widened as he turned away almost immediately, his face flushing completely.

`what the hell do you think you're doing?` he seethed, his usual bark lacking no bite, since oikawa really couldn't see his facial expression.

the latter let out a chuckle. `calm down, you can turn around, now. i'm decent.`

forest-green eyes slowly darted back to the brunette's figure, pupils growing bigger in relief, as he realized that he really was decent. he was dressed in the atrociously bright orange camp half-blood shirt, and bleached denim jeans, rolled up to just above his ankles. his bead necklace was still wrapped around his neck snugly. it was extremely tighter than iwaizumi's, which hung down just over the scar on his left pec. he must've tightened it like a choker. it was kind of smart- usually, monsters with half a brain used those necklaces to pull demigods towards them if they couldn't grab their limbs. this tactic limited the amount of things they could grab on him.

iwaizumi would've never thought of that.

`so,` oikawa mused, folding his now damp towel. he must have used it to dry himself off while iwaizumi was looking away from him. `what do you need from me?`

the other demigod blinked, mouth forming an 'o' once he realized his reason for being there. he totally didn't forget that he wanted to sock oikawa in the face just because he saw him naked. `right. i have a bone to pick with you, oikawa.`

`oh? is that so?` the brunette smiled sweetly at him, his eyebrows furrowed in an act of confusion and innocence. disgusting.

iwaizumi stepped forward, whipping out the khopesh he had stuffed in his pocket. with a simple flick of his wrist, it extended. the contraption was thanks to someone in cabin number six, with the help of cabin nine- apparently, iwaizumi had saved someone dear to them, and he was given the khopesh as a thank you. however, the person never did reveal themself to iwaizumi. it was an athena cabin secret.

oikawa's brown eyes widened at the sight of the weapon, but that expression was quickly replaced with an amused sneer. `oh, what's this? you want to fight?`

`no, you're going to let me maim you in silence, i refuse to fight someone as weak as you.` iwaizumi retorted, fists clenching. the brunette gawked, his mouth agape in a silent shout.

`weak? excuse me? i'm far from weak. just because you come from cabin five, doesn't mean you're higher than everyone else.` he replied, sticking his nose high up in the air. `i'll have you know, i've won many tournaments against your cabin.`

iwaizumi rolled his eyes. `yeah, because you always cheat and sneak over to athena's group.`

`i don't cheat! and i don't have to sneak over to athena's group, i have a place there you know!` oikawa shrieked, whipping out a dagger and pointing it at iwaizumi threateningly. however, the latter remained unphased, which pissed the brunette off even more.

`yeah. sure, and what's that?` iwaizumi said, letting one of his eyebrows raise. if rules served him correctly, there was no teaming allowed in any game at camp half-blood, unless stated otherwise. however, he always saw oikawa with athena's group, but he let it slide, thinking the ares' cabin would win anyways. he was, unfortunately, very wrong.

oikawa blinked. `are you stupid? athena's my mother.`

`huh?` the son of ares' stepped back a bit, glaring at the other. `you- athena's son? but- you're-`

`pretty? yeah, i get that a lot.` oikawa sheathed his dagger, stretching out his muscles. `people mistake me for the son of aphrodite way too much. it's kind of annoying, actually. there's a lot more to me than my face,` he mused, glaring at iwaizumi. `looks like you're no different from the rest of them. shame. i actually took a liking to you.`

the other stood there, unmoving, confusion lining every forehead wrinkle. `what are you saying? there's no way-`

oikawa sighed. `i should've known you were going to be hard to convince. look, i'm the son of athena, and the current ruler of the cabin. if you don't believe me, ask my cabin mates. they'll tell you.`

`then who the hell's trashing my cabin?` iwaizumi seethed, still not convinced by oikawa's truths.

the latter let out a melodic laugh. `i thought that was obvious. i saw some of hermes' cabin sneak out to yours during lunch. makes sense, they're always trying to pull pranks on everyone and see their reactions. yours was most likely the best one of them all.` oikawa smiled, his eyes twinkling as he walked away. `well, while it was fun talking to you, i have to go. it's getting dark, and i'd rather not get caught being out past curfew.`

iwaizumi looked up to the sky to find out that he was, in fact, right. the sky was slowly darkening, the sun almost disappearing at the horizon. the green-eyed demigod let out a sigh, turning to glare at oikawa, to find out he was long gone.

`..damn it!`

⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝

`can you believe he's even athena's cabin ruler?` takahiro hanamaki muttered lowly to his fellow cabin mate, issei matsukawa, who also stood in front of a very emotional toorū oikawa. he had been ranting about how he was sick of everyone mistaking him for a son of aphrodite, and when his cabin mate shigeru yahaba said it could've been a compliment, the hysterics had gotten even worse.

fortunately, the 18-year-old had tired himself out, and was now resorting to laying on his bed and blinking the tears out of his eyes.

matsukawa sighed. `no. i can't. not when he's like this.`

`i can hear you, 'ya know.` oikawa muttered, tear-filled chocolate brown eyes turning to them accusingly. `you can't even act like you're tired of me, you just got here.`

`true,` hanamaki replied, kneeling down next to his dear friend. `but according to yahaba, you've been complaining about this for the past forty-five minutes. don't you think that's a tad bit excessive?`

oikawa sat up abruptly. `no! well- maybe. but it's so stupid!` he exclaimed, fists furrowing in his fluffy brown locks. `i don't act like aphrodite at all! i don't even look like her, but i'm pretty and that's the only reason people need to lump me in with that cabin. i actually liked iwa. of course, he's just like the rest.`

`oh.` matsukawa snapped his fingers, pointing at oikawa. `he's the guy who rescued kiyo and takeru, right?`

the brunette shuddered. `right. that memory just gives me chills.` he thought back to that day, where a gorgon had came across oikawa while he was taking his sister and nephew shopping. the gorgon smelled him, and realized he was a son of athena, and attacked the group, leaving oikawa bruised and bloodied while he took kiyo and takeru as prisoners. however, a group of demigods from camp half-blood on a quest sensed the violence occurring, and rushed to the scene as quick as possible. iwaizumi was amongst the group, but he had taken off after the gorgon, and didn't get a good look at oikawa's face.

when the group returned to camp, oikawa had made the khopesh iwaizumi had sported, and left it on his bed while he was out training with his cabin mates. he also left a thank-you note, but didn't sign it, hoping to leave his identity anonymous.

`yeah, why don't you just tell him that you're a relative to kiyo and takeru? the whole camp knows about that quest, so if iwaizumi knows your identity, everyone else will too. people won't mistake you for a descendant of aphrodite anymore,` hanamaki supplied, reaching into the tupperware of ambrosia oikawa was given (he had started a fight with kyōtani from ares' cabin to relieve his stress- both parties sporting the same amount of cuts and bruises) and popping a bit into his mouth.

oikawa shrugged, snatching back the tupperware before hanamaki could steal any more. if a demigod ate too much of the sweet, healing treat, they could get extremely sick. `yeah, maybe. but,` oikawa grinned, turning to his two friends that stood by his bedside, `beating him at capture-the-flag tomorrow sounds way more fun.`

the two boys sighed, smiling at the sight of their best friend with a much happier mood. capture-the-flag with demigods was always a very violent and extreme sport, but all cabins ended up having a lot of fun playing the game. and, no matter what side the athena cabin was on, they always ended up winning. no one could remember a time where they lost.

beating the ares' cabin was going to be a piece of cake for oikawa.

⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝

`you seem on edge, iwaizumi.` ushijima had muttered to the demigod, taking a seat beside the other. they were currently stationed in the middle of the forest, with the job of guarding the red flag. `do you want to talk about it?`

iwaizumi glanced at his companion. under the absolutely atrocious battle helmet was a look of concern and worry for his friend. the dark-haired demigod let out a sigh, nodding slightly. `yeah. i'm just.. shaken up, i guess.`

`how so?`

`well..` iwaizumi pondered, trying to figure out the best words and phrases to lay his point across. `i pissed off one of the sons' of aphrodite here, because apparently, he's the son of athena, and not aphrodite. like, what the fuck? the dude even acts like the deviled spawn of her, so i don't understand why he's so pressed.`

ushijima nodded, listening intently. `you mean toorū oikawa, right?`

iwaizumi gaped. `how the hell did you know that?`

`i made the same mistake you did, thinking he was a descendant of aphrodite.` ushijima mused, looking up to the sky. the clouds reflected in his olive-coloured eyes, but were less noticeable than the clouds reflecting in oikawa's eyes. `when he had first came to camp half-blood, he was called weak by one of our cabin-mates. he challenged him to a duel and won. i then told him he should have been a descendant of ares, not one of aphrodite. he would have a rightful place here, with us.`

`oh? what'd he say, then?`

the olive-haired demigod shuddered. `he slapped me. very hard. and then yelled at me, saying he was a son of athena, not aphrodite. he apparently doesn't like being addressed as a child of aphrodite.`

a sharp wolf-whistle came from the trees. ushijima and iwaizumi stood up, quickly switching to a fighting stance. iwaizumi clenched his khopesh as the figure who was listening to their whole conversation emerged from the trees.

and of course, it was fucking oikawa.

`y-you?` iwaizumi shouted, almost dropping his weapon. `how long were you there?`

the brunette stretched, calm despite the fact that a sword and a khopesh were both aiming at his chest. `i heard the whole conversation. i've been watching you two for quite some time, now.`

ushijima stepped forward as to greet oikawa, but faltered. his eyes widened, and he turned around. leaning on the flag they were supposed to protect was a silver-haired male holding a celestial-bronze axe. his honey-brown eyes met ushijima's olive-green ones, and a corrupt smile split his face. `finally. you noticed me. i was wondering how to get your attention.`

iwaizumi turned around to see the second attacker, letting out an almost animalistic growl. `it's a fucking ambush.`

`correct~` oikawa mused, taking out his dagger and smiling at the other. `however, suga-chan isn't allowed to touch you. i wanted to do all the dirty work myself.`

the silver-haired demigod nodded. `my only purpose here is to take the flag once oikawa defeats you. he requested to fight you both at the same time.`

oikawa nodded, flicking a little switch on his dagger iwaizumi hadn't noticed before. as soon as he did so, he dropped the dagger, and it extended into a much longer weapon. the other demigod scanned it, recognizing the weapon to be a scythe. 'suga-chan' smiled at the sight, meeting iwaizumi's questioning eyes. `you guys better be prepared. he hasn't lost a duel since he came here.`

the brunette nodded, pointing at ushijima with a smile before lunging at the demigod. before the latter could even react, oikawa had connected his foot with ushijima's abdomen, sending the demigod flying. he landed on his back with a gasp, having the air knocked out of him. iwaizumi's eyes widened- he hadn't even been able to react either. that was how fast oikawa was.

ushijima sat up quickly, blocking oikawa's attack with his sword. the other demigod smiled sweetly, twisting the scythe and yanking ushijima's sword out of his hand. it landed in the dirt a couple yards away.

iwaizumi growled, running at oikawa with his khopesh up high. the brunette turned around, unamused, sidestepping iwaizumi's attack and tapping at the end of his weapon. the khopesh hissed and groaned, a net pooling out from the back end, trapping iwaizumi in the knots. the demigod gasped, writhing around in the trap. `wh-what the hell?`

`you seem to be confused. could it be,` oikawa laughed, `that you didn't even know that was there?`

`s-shut up! how the hell did you know anyways?`

oikawa deadpanned. `i made the stupid thing. i think i would know every little thing there is to know about it.`

the dark-haired son of ares stared at his attacker, watching as he stalked over to suga and ripped the flag out of the ground. the brunette turned and smiled sweetly at his victims, waving. `well, see you.`

the two demigods sprinted off, laughing at the shouts coming from behind them.

⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝

`i can't believe him!` iwaizumi kicked the boulder, ignoring the pain from doing so. `he's so fucking insufferable! but i can't even do anything about it, because apparently he made this stupid weapon-` he waved the khopesh in the air, `-and i have to be grateful, but he's making it so goddamn hard!`

kyōtani glanced at the demigod, popping another piece of ambrosia in his mouth. he was still recovering from his fight with oikawa earlier. `you didn't know he made that for you? i thought it was obvious.`

the other glared at his cabin mate, confusion in his eyes. `what do you mean?`

`well,` kyōtani chewed the left over ambrosia in his mouth and swallowed, before continuing. `i'm pretty sure he has a crush on you, or something. he's been watching your duels ever since he came back with your group.`

`what group?`

`the quest you had a while ago.` kyōtani muttered under his breath, probably ridiculing iwaizumi. `you saved his sister and nephew from a gorgon. remember that?`

iwaizumi deadpanned, the memories all but flooding back to him now. `that was him?`

`that was him.`

`so he really is a son of athena?`

kyōtani nodded.

`..fuck, i'm an idiot.`

`i know.`

─── demigods.

[wilhelmjfink]

Daryl Dixon Drabble #6 — Pt. 3

Clearly, this is no longer a Drabble. I have no self control. This has been sitting in my documents for months, and I really like it, so why haven’t I posted it? Because my life is a fucking mess, y’all. It’s not very long, but you don’t care.

Who wants to guess how many more parts of this I will add over the next fucking fifteen years I make you wait? Who knows. Enjoy it now. Or don’t.

—

You’d half expected him to take off when you made it back to the campsite you shared — if you could even still consider that after the events of the night — but were instead surprised to see Rick, Lorie and Herschel had made their way into camp and stood around the glow of your campfire. Rick and Lorie were armed, their bodies stiff and uncomfortable and on edge it seemed, and they both turned at the sound of you and Daryl approaching in sync before lowering their handguns with their features softening in recognition.

“There y’all are,” Lorie exhaled with relief, tucking her pistol back into the holster resting on her hip. Still buzzed, you couldn’t help but notice Rick’s revolver remained in his grasp. “What in the world is going on?”

It was then you realized that you hadn’t come up with an adequate excuse for why exactly you and Daryl had literally been running around in the woods; and also the exact moment you realized how fucking stupid you felt, running after Daryl when he stormed off as if he — of all people — would do something careless and manage to get into trouble. And then what? You went after him like you would be able to save him from any danger. As if you didn’t just drag him into a dangerously idiotic situation that could’ve easily been avoided if you weren’t acting like a drunken frat girl, calling him names and spitting lies to hurt him and only then acknowledging your true feelings after you thought you may have pushed him away for good.

And as if you weren’t already embarrassed enough of course Daryl had you covered while you blindly fumbled the metaphorical football and tripped over your own feet, opening his mouth before you could manage to choke out some half-assed story about a stray walker in the night.

“Thought we heard somethin’ crawlin’ around,” he replied, smooth as the whiskey he (always) vaguely smelled of, once again just reminding you that, Jesus Christ, get a fucking grip — what is this, middle school? “Found a straggler outside the next pasture — fell over the fence or somethin’.”

You turned to look at him, to see if maybe he would be looking back at you and somehow convey to you what the fuck you were supposed to say or do or feel right as Rick decided to speak up.

“We heard screamin’, his expression was unreadable in the flickering glow of your slowly-dying campfire. “You alright?”

You could still feel your head spinning and the boney fingers intertwined in your hair and pulling your scalp but you were determined now to prove something, literally anything, to Daryl that you made sure to answer for yourself before he could try.

“Yeah, it got the jump on me,” you blurted out, almost before he even finished his last word, then dropping your gaze to the ground shamefully. “It just — y’know, scared me. But... Daryl got it.”

You were briefly self-conscious that you’d tried so hard to casually add on that last bit that it came out as bitter and immature as you really felt, and you forced yourself to swallow down the nausea that rose along with the shame and the flush of warmth from your chest to your cheeks.

“Well, good, but next time...”

Daryl waved a dismissive hand as he broadly stepped past the sheriff’s wife and closer to campsite. “Won’t be no next time. ’Sides, it ain’t nothin’ I couldn’t handle myself. Didn’t need to alert the whole damn village.”

Lorie — god damn Lorie, of course, who could never just leave things alone and always has to poke and prod opened her mouth to argue. “Still. We shouldn’t — “

“Man, enough with this fuckin’ ‘we’ stuff, alright? Ain’t no ‘we’ here — no ‘us’ — so give it a rest ‘n leave me the hell alone!”

You were left in silence, the wake of Daryl’s rage burning a trail behind his heels that violently kicked up dirt and rocks at you where you stood whilst watching him storm off. It was a very familiar sensation, the onset of tears threatening to fall, but you always knew when wanting to withhold them back would prove futile and instead of wasting the last of your energy trying, you hung your head and instead focused on trying to keep them as quiet as possible, at the very least.

“We’ll have to make a lap around the perimeter,” Herschel added nonchalantly, unbothered by Daryl’s emotional outburst and the fact that it had you choking back sobs as you stood in front of him. “Make sure all of the fencing is still holdin’ up okay. Maybe add some barbed wire or electricity or somethin’.”

You felt a gentle hand on your shoulder and stiffened, but saw Lorie standing at your side with her head cocked curiously and somehow pitifully at you. She offered you a tight smile.

“Yeah, tomorrow,” she agreed softly. “Let’s get back to bed. Why don’t you come sleep in the RV tonight? Carl can — “

Harshly shrugging her palm from your shoulder you straightened up, trying to remember how the current state of your own camp might be — you’d left it behind with a bottle of whiskey in tow to cross the few hundred yards between as you had the previous few nights, but that all seemed like a lifetime ago in retrospect. “No, I’m fine. I’ll see you guys in the morning.”

As you strode away you could almost feel Lorie reaching for you, surely to add a comment of some sort or offer at least an escort back to your own camp, but you were extremely thankful to whatever it was that had convinced her to just keep her mouth shut for once in her fucking life.

The campfire was low now, the embers burning brightly within the logs they intertwined but with very little of the once roaring flames left. It smoked, the scent still somehow comforting to your soul even after the last few months of hell you’d endured — and once foolishly thought only possible within cheap horror flicks — managed to taint the long-gone memories of camping for fun instead of a dangerous lack of secure shelter. You wouldn’t have met Daryl if it weren’t for having lived through all of those nightmares. And, yet somehow, that thought still managed to scare you in a way that monsters and zombies never could.

Torn from your thoughts by the unmistakable sound of your boot crunching glass beneath your foot, you stopped. Just a few hours ago, those boots had been insignificant to you, tossed carelessly to the side of Daryl’s tent where they lay for the rest of the night. Light purple socks draped over them, just as quickly forgotten — it was a small luxury, but one almost instantly you’d grown to cherish when your life suddenly became full of long, taxing walks through all the various terrains the state of Georgia had to offer during the dog days of summer. You had only been a shot or two deep, but you were already basking in the sensation of thick, luscious grass against your bare feet once again.

“Shouldn’t be barefoot out here,” Daryl had quipped harmlessly from where he knelt opposite of you, stoking the workings of your campfire in the evening glow. You opened just one eye, content to relax where you were, but your body instantly began to sit up, already working to get up from where the tree stump you were sitting on and make its way to your discarded socks and boots.

“And why not?” You responded curiously. Of course, you were acutely aware of several reasons you shouldn’t be barefoot in the beginning chapters of what you safely assumed was the end of the world as you knew it — the only thing you were curious about was the nagging voice in your head you were struggling to ignore that made you realize you just wanted to hear him talk. Didn’t matter about what, apparently.

Instead of a gruff explanation about how you realistically needed to be prepared to jump up and run for your life at any second, Daryl had just shrugged half-heartedly. “Fire. Glass. Bees. Ya know.”

Doubled over you were already retrieving your socks and boots from up off the ground. “Fireglass bees?! That sounds awful!”

There was the soft snap of a twig and then the feeling of it bouncing off of your back, tossed playfully by the archer as he continued to break kindling over the growing fire.

“Don’t come cryin’ to me when ya get a shard of glass lodged in there,” he’d said lightly. “Shit hurts.”

You chanced a quick glance around the fire pit and proximity of the camp. “I don’t see any broken glass around here.”

“Well, yeah, nobody ever sees it before walkin’ on it. People don’t cut themselves open on purpose, y’know.” He pauses. “Smart people, anyway.”

You vividly remember the way his mouth quirked up into a smirk; the way you felt so relaxed and relieved that he seemed to feel the same way. The glass at your feet was the shattered remains of the once full bottle of whiskey that you liked to assume was solely responsible for how things had gone wrong that night. You don’t remember who dropped it, or even hearing it break.

But there you were, on your hands and knees in the dirt as you hunted for it’s pieces using what little light remained of the dying fire beside you. You didn’t know why you were doing it, either — as if you could somehow actually retrieve every last bit of the bottle, you could glue it back into its original form, a fragile vessel too pure for any leaks or cracks or chips that could compromise its integrity, and then maybe you could do the same to the deeply complex relationship you had with Daryl that you had managed to destroy in literal seconds.

Heavy tears obscured your vision and you blinked them away furiously, heart pounding in your chest, trembling hands instinctively clenching into fists to subdue the sudden need to just fucking hit something all the while simultaneously closing around the collection of glass pieces you’d gathered in your left hand over your last few minutes of absent-mindedness.

With a hiss of pain you released your grip, several shards falling from your grip but some remaining by way of stabbing themselves into the soft flesh of your palm.

Ironic, you thought, that Daryl had never warned you about getting glass lodged into your hand.

Then again, he shouldn’t have had to. People don’t cut themselves open on purpose.

Smart people, anyway.

[what-is-your-plan-today]

Leave No One Behind Ch7: Hungry Like The Wolf Pt. 2

Co written with @icanfeelastormbrewing​

Episode Summary: Ari heads back to TA and after meeting with his estranged wife he’s left in even more of a spin dealing with his feelings towards Hannah, until something finally snaps. And this time, there’s no going back.

Episode Warnings: Bad Language words. Smut (NSFW no under18s)

Part 1 (please read first!)

Strut on a line, it's discord and rhyme, I'm on the hunt down, I'm after you. Mouth is alive with juices like wine, and I'm hungry like the wolf

*********

Reflecting on Rachel's words Ari headed to his hut. She had a point. They should be coming to terms about what they were feeling and not worrying about what other people, not even Sammy, might say or how they'd react. They were grown-ups running a mission, for fucks sake, not teenagers moping around at the school's canteen.

He shoved his trainers on and headed out as he turned his walkman on. As the music started blaring in his ears he began pounding along the dusty road at the front of the resort, pushing everything from his mind as best he could. He followed his familiar 7 mile route, rounding the cliff and getting back onto the shore until he ran back down along the sand as Message in a Bottle by The Police started playing.

Ari slowed to a stop, catching his breath and saw Hannah and Jake returning. He watched them for a second as they unload the boat and then decided to head back to get a shower but paused as he took off his headphones and turned his walkman off. The sea looked so inviting, he thought. Thus, on a sudden whim of spontaneity, he stripped off his shirt, shed his trainers and ran towards it, flinging himself and diving into the cool water.  When he emerged he shook his hair out a little and did a couple of strokes out before letting himself float a little. After 10 minutes or so of just floating aimlessly letting his mind focus on the sensations of the water beneath and the sun rays above him, he felt every muscle in his body relax. The strains of his trip completely washed away, he swam back to shore and waded out of the water.

Hannah chose that exact moment to walk past, back in her sundress after changing out of her wetsuit, and spotted Ari just as he was wading towards the sand. She stared as he ran his hand through his wet hair and was really struggling to keep her eyes from the veins and muscles in his arms and forearms as he did so. Of course, following the lines of water as they trickled down his chest to his defined abs didn’t help much either. Fortunately, if you could say that, she was snapped back from her drooling state by a group of young, female tourists who started catcalling him from where they were sat on the beach.

Hannah saw him grin as he passed the group acknowledging them “Ladies.” as he nodded and walked toward where she was stood by his clothes. The way he had spoken, in such a low, sultry voice had made her core clench slightly, and she was still trying to recover from it when Ari looked at her and smiled, and that made it even worse. She was getting more and more flustered by the minute but then she took a deep breath and suddenly thought to herself, Two can play that game, Levinson.

Ari saw her pulling her sundress over her head, leaving her in nothing but that black crochet bikini as she tossed her clothing down on top of his and sauntered past him.

“Shame you didn’t wait, Lobo…” she teased

He turned to watch her dive straight into the waves. He stood still for a moment like he had been nailed to the ground. Fuck! Cursing under his breath he headed to his hut, grabbed his shades and cigarettes and came back, flopping onto the sand by the pile of clothing. He watched as Hannah took a swim out a little further than he had gone whilst, Simon who had swum out a little way after her, clearly decided enough was enough and turned back around. He made his way out of the water, shook himself off and ran to Ari who scratched him, all the time watching Hannah behind his aviators.

A few minutes and half a cigarette later she made her way back to shore. As she got out, she pulled her hair out of it’s pony tail before shaking it out loosely. She was soaking, water dripping down her tanned body which was glistening in the now setting sun. And Ari wanted to die, more like he could have died then and there and he would have gone happily. That it was the second time he had seen her wet that day, and neither of them at his hands.

Get a grip, Levinson, with a silent groan he pulled his knees to his chest to hide his growing boner before Hannah reached the spot where he was sat. What was that about not being a fucking teenager again?

Hannah dropped next to him on the sand she reached for his cigarette. "I see you have some fans." she said, nodding to the young women who had been cat calling him as she took a drag and blew it out.

Ari forced himself to peel his eyes from the perfect line of her jaw to look over her shoulder at them realising they were looking at him and whispering. He waved and nodded at them playfully whilst he said "Not a chance, Firefly."

Hannah looked at him, trying to read the meaning of those words in his eyes, but he was hiding behind his glasses. She sighed and handed his cigarette back, his fingers brushing hers lightly and he looked at her.

"I really wanna kiss the life out of you right now, Han."

Oh, God. Not that voice again. She thought as she flushed. Taking a breath she recovered and then turned to him, flashing him a smile, that fucking smile that killed him every damned time and she looked around.

"Yeah, probably not a good idea." she said, biting her lower lip.

Ari looked around too.

"No one from the team here…I think it’s a very good idea." he countered, and Hannah could see his left eyebrow rise from behind his shades as he smiled. She looked around again to see he was right.

She hesitated for a few seconds, the beating of her heart pounding in her ears as she reached for his hand and laced her fingers through his, painfully slowly, not taking her eyes from their intertwined hand as she brushed his palm with her thumb.

Fuck! That simple but intimate gesture was sending electricity through his entire body and he swallowed hard. "You don’t wanna keep doing that, Firefly." he said, his voice low and hoarse.

She smiled "What if I do?"

Ari studied her eyes for a moment, taking her in before answering her question. "They’ll end up shutting the hotel down because of a scandal."

She laughed, the image of a shocked Ethan's face coming to her mind. But she didn't stop caressing his hand with her thumb.

"Can’t have that now, can we?" she shrugged, as she squeezed his hand faintly.

Ari turned around once more to check there was still no unwelcome audience before leaning his head on the crook of her neck. Nuzzling her skin, still fresh from the sea, with his nose before pressing a soft kiss on her neck under her ear.

He felt her stiffen, her breath caught as she closed her eyes and swallowed. Now that was sending shivers down his spine and he was having bad thoughts about her swallowing something else. His breath caught in his throat and Hannah must have sensed it too because she whispered. "Ari" as her body turned towards him, her free hand dropping on to his bare thigh, curling her gentle fingers around the curve of his muscle.

Ari immediately tensed up at her touch, hissing internally, and he turned around again, this time a little quicker than previously because he couldn’t take it anymore.

Coast is still clear.

"Firefly, look at me." he said, pulling his shades from his face.

She did as told, noticing the urgency in his voice and he immediately pressed his lips to hers in a soft peck. It was quick but he felt the longing that had been plaguing him over the last week finally wash away. He thought of all the nights he had laid down on his bed in Tel Aviv replaying that last night at the resort with her before he had left, as he rubbed his nose softly along hers before catching her mouth again, keeping it short and sweet, but loaded with feeling.

As he pressed his head to hers be became suddenly aware of a movement in his peripheral and jerked his head away, fearing someone from the team might have showed up in the few minutes he and Hannah had been lost in one another. But as he looked around he saw it was the group of female tourists who were gathering their things and shooting glances their way, none of them particularly nice it truth be told, and could see they were talking in low whispers as they stood.

Hannah followed his gaze and moved her hand off his leg.

"Probably not the smartest idea we’ve had, huh?" she said softly.

"I don’t care. You’ll always be my smartest move, Firefly." Ari stated, looking into her eyes with determination.

She was about to say something back Simon let out a little whine from where he had been led next to Hannah and stood up, shooting off behind them. They were both startled and turned to see Max approaching, already within earshot.

"We’re gonna fire the BBQ up now…just to…er..warn you." he informed them, the expression on his face unreadable.

Both looked at him innocently as he smirked. Well, that smirk could be read, couldn’t it?

"Thanks Max, I’ll just grab a clean shirt." Ari was the first to speak as he stood up and offered Hannah his hand to pull her to her feet and handed her dress to her. She pulled it on and they both walked off, not exchanging any words in the process. Ari shot her one last glance and almost as if she could sense it, she turned and looked over her shoulder at him, catching his eyes before she looked back the way she was walking, heading after Max.

A little while later Ari headed to the patio area of the resort and spotted Hannah already seated at one of the tables, a glass of what looked like lemonade in her hand which he suspected was laced with Vodka. Max was at one side of her and the seat on the other was free. Trying not to smile too much, he headed over to take it, hoping for the chance to at least sit next to her, maybe give him the opportunity to hold her hand under the table but to is utter horror Sammy appeared out of nowhere and flopped into the seat he had been eyeing up.

Bastard. So instead he took a seat opposite her, that is when he got chance to sit down as he was roped into doing the BBQ, Rachel appealing to his ego by telling the guests loudly that no one grilled a steak like Guy Thomas. After an hour or so, the meal was done and then everyone piled onto the beach after Max lit a camp fire. The beach was dark now, illuminated by the fairly lights and the camp fire, the latter of which was sending warm shadows across the sand. Ari sat down on one of the blankets, watching as Hannah got roped into some stupid dancing as Max strummed his guitar (which Ari wanted to smash over his head for effectively cock-blocking him earlier). He was fighting the urge now to get up and dance with her too, but he knew he had to keep a respectable distance, if nothing but to placate the girls from the beach who were shooting daggers at Hannah and mumbling no doubt about what they had seen the pair of them do on the beach. Eventually, however, their attention was diverted as Jake flopped into the middle of their little circle with a bottle of tequila, flirting his way around the 3 women. Hannah nudged Max and pointed to him, the pair of them snorting and shaking their heads. Hannah caught Ari’s eye and he flashed her a smile which she returned until she was dragged back into the hotel by Max, presumably for more beer.

All in all it should have been a nice first evening back with his team. This set of guests left tomorrow morning and the new ones weren’t around until the morning after so everyone was cutting loose, but he was simply dying. Seeing her so close and so carefree and not being able to simply reach out to her was killing him. When he couldn’t take it anymore he stood up and excused himself.

“I’m turning in.” he said, stretching his arms above his head. “It’s been a long day for me and I’m exhausted.”

Rachel looked at him, nodding sympathetically “Yeah, you do look whacked.” “Gee thanks.” he rolled his eyes as Max sniggered. He looked at Hannah again who simply looked him up and down before he turned away, bidding everyone goodnight and headed away to his hut further up the beach. Once inside he flopped down, his fingers linking together behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling for a moment before he closed his eyes, reliving that 5 minutes or so he’d had with Hannah alone on the beach. He was going to have to come up with something, some way to get her alone so they could talk or…well, whatever. As he lay there, for how long he had no idea, he felt his eyelids growing heavy and he was just dozing off when he heard Simon barking.

“Simon shhh.” Hannah chastised, her voice drifting through the window as she passed his hut “Quiet!”

Now he was wide awake again, and that aching feeling was back in his stomach. Fuck, he couldn’t take this anymore. He waited for a minute or so, arguing internally about how going after her was a bad idea, but that devil on his shoulder was telling him that laying where he was, stewing on everything was equally as bad an idea.

Fuck it.

Standing up he brushed his hair back out of his eyes and opened his door a fraction. He poked his head out and took a quick look around, there was no one in sight and he could hear the party faintly as it was still going on outside the main hotel area. He stepped outside, and keeping himself as close to the staff quarters as he could to try and stay in the shadows he made his way 3 down to Hannah’s.

Unsure if she would be there or at her rocks, he knocked gently and heard Simon give another bark. His breath caught in his chest as his stomach began to churn again as he stood, waiting, feeling like he was about to burst with anticipation. After what felt like an hour, but was less than 5 seconds in reality, the door finally clicked open and without so much as a word Hannah stepped back to let him in and he quickly shut the door behind him. There was a moment where he stood simply looking at her, and then that final thread of self-control snapped. To hell with everything and everyone, he was done waiting.

He wanted her, and fuck, he was going to have her.

He reached out, wrapping his hand around her upper arm and with a sharp tug which almost made her stumble he pulled her to him. He swallowed the small squeak of surprise she had made as his lips crashed onto hers and before Hannah could even think to kiss him back, he pulled away, pressing their foreheads together.

There was a slight pause between them, both trying to catch their breath from the searing kiss Ari had just delivered and he let out a soft sight. “Firefly…I missed you…

“Mi Lobo…” she whispered and her hands reached for his face, fingers threading into his beard and she pulled him back to her. Their lips found one another again, his hands moving to her waist to pull her closer and he began to tug at her clothes. He grabbed the bottom of her sun dress and he broke away from her for a second to pull it over her head before his lips crashed back to hers as they both stumbled around the room.

Ari took hold of her hips so to manoeuvre her wherever he wanted, his fingers flexing on her bare skin just above the waistband of her bikini bottoms. They continued to blindly fall around the small hut, lips furiously locked together, teeth clashing, tongues tangling in the utter ferocity of the moment until, after colliding with the small set of drawers set against one of the walls, Ari took control. Shoving her bikini bottoms down he allowed her to step out of them before he roughly picked her up. Her bare legs immediately wrapped around his waist and her arms went around his neck as he pushed her up against the wall at the far side of the hut and, using it as support he shifted his grip from under her ass and his hands moved around to the back of her neck. With surprisingly soft fingers which caused her to shiver as they grazed her skin, he pulled the strings on her bikini which allowed it to fall forwards, exposing her breasts, his hands sliding down between her shoulder blades to the, dancing along her spine before he reached the fastenings behind her back and undid the bow there too, pulling the garment away completely, tossing it somewhere to his right.

He broke the kiss to glance down at her, giving a small moan at the sight as her chest heaved with exertion and anticipation. She was every bit as fucking gorgeous as he remembered. Hannah’s hands fisted in his t-shirt and grabbed at the hem, tugging it upwards. Holding his arms above his head he allowed her to pull it off and she tossed it to the floor, her hands moving to his chest as his mouth trailed from hers along her jaw to her neck. Her head fell back against the wall as his hands pressed flat on the stone surface, either side of her face as he nipped at her skin. She gave a low moan, rolling her hips against his and he felt his cock twitch slightly drawing a hiss from his mouth.

“I missed you…” he repeated his earlier words, his mouth right by her ear, voice was low and carried a tone of desperation she couldn’t ever remember hearing from Ari before. It was enough to send a shiver down her spine.

“You were only gone a week…” She mumbled as his lip moved downwards, hot kisses branding her skin across her collar bone.

“I didn’t mean this week…” he said, his teeth grazing the hollow just beneath her throat. “I should have fought harder, stayed with you…I’m so sorry Firefly.”

Hannah’s hands fisted in his hair and she gave a sharp tug, the quick bite of pain made him growl in his throat as he looked at her, their eyes locking for a second.

“I know.” she said, her voice soft as she breathed out, swallowing slightly “And I believe you…I forgive you.”

He looked at her a second, her words echoing around lust hazed brain for a second as they hit home, the final atonement for his wrong doing all those years ago. He gave her a quick smile and then surged forward again, kissing her desperately and she openly moaned into his mouth as his hand slid between them and he trailed two of his fingers across her slit. She was wet and at the feel of her he gave a soft growl as she pulled away, her head falling back and a whimper escaping her mouth as he began to play with her, touch her, just how he remembered she liked. His head dropped to her chest as he moved his mouth to take her right nipple between his lips, softly at first before his teeth grazed her sensitive skin drawing a breathy cry from her mouth as he alternated between stinging bites and soothing licks, all the time his hand working at her clit. He moved to the other side, repeating his motion and she began to rock against his hand, seeking his touch even more. With a quick movement he pushed 2 fingers inside her and she gave a dirty purr of delight as he continued, his motions fast and aggressive. Sensing she was close by the shortening of her breath he moved his mouth from her chest so he could watch her as she came, her eyes fluttering shut, mouth slackening and her head fell forward before it tipped back and she let out a quiet squeal as he felt her tightening around her, her channel squeezing his fingers as her hands dug into his shoulders. He loved how graceful she was, even in the throes of an orgasm her noises were so dainty and soft and it drove him fucking wild.

He couldn’t help but smirk at the pout she gave as he moved his fingers out of her, readjusting her slightly before he shoved his swimshorts down, freeing his now painfully hard erection before he paused and suddenly realised...

Sensing his hesitation, Hannah finally managed to get enough about her to shake her head. Her hands cupped his cheeks and she looked at him.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’ve no…” he swallowed and she shook her head, smiling.

“It’s ok. I’m covered…and there’s been no one since Andy…” she bit her lip “And there was no one before him bar you.” Ari gulped a little at her revelation, “What? So…” She shook her head, her eyes locking onto his as Ari let her words sink in and for some reason, the thought of him being the only other man bar her husband that had taken her this way was turning him on even more. He also understood that it meant it was 4 years since she’d been with a man. Hannah watched as his eyes flashed and his entire face darkened slightly as he gave her a look, one that she had seen before a few times, that glare of a predator, eyeing up its prey.

“Oh Firefly…” he said, his voice low and deep, almost a growl and it went straight to that spot in her belly as she looked at him, eyes wide “I hope you’re fuckin’ ready.”

“Show me what you got, Lobo…” she challenged back, and her sass made him groan before he shifted, his hands moving to the back of her thighs and he opened her up to him even more as he pushed into her, slowly, revelling in the feel of her as her tight heat gripped him. Hannah’s gasp caught in her throat as she felt him fill her, a feeling she’d been missing for so fucking long, being close to someone, feeling treasured, feeling needed, feeling wanted.

One of her hands gripped his bicep, the other flew to the wall to steady herself and Ari’s hips ground against hers as he bottomed out. “Fuck…” he breathed, his face pressing into her neck as he gave them both a second to savour the moment before he snapped his hips back and this time slammed back into her, a motion he repeated over and over with such force that Hannah was sure she was about to go straight through the stone wall he was fucking her against, onto the beach outside.

Desperate to be closer to him, Hannah leaned her body forwards and the motion made him go deeper inside of her, which caused them both to groan and her head fell back, smacking against the hard wall. At that point Ari decided he wanted her in the bed, if nothing more to prevent a fucking concussion, so he moved his hands from the wall and grabbed her hips. Turning the pair of them, he carried her across the room, stepping out of his shorts which had fallen to his ankles, kicking them away as he stumbled slightly, all the time still grinding up against her, pulling her down onto him as he speared upwards and dropped them both onto the native pattered covers. One hand gripping her knee, he hooked her leg over his shoulder and Hannah grabbed his forearms as he propped himself up, looking at her as he pounded into her, his pace relentless, both of them caught up in the utter carnal desire that filled the room, the filthy sounds of skin hitting skin surrounded them as he continued his avaricious pace.

Hannah’s head was a whirl. The roughness of his pubic hair was grinding against her clit along with the fact he was bottoming out inside her, hitting her spot again and again and she was powerless to do anything but surrender as she felt her orgasm beginning to build, the familiar numbness spreading across her pelvis.

“Shit, Lobo…” her voice cracked slightly and the sound of that pet name on her lips elicited a low growl from Ari as he slammed into her even harder, fuck he loved it when she said that. “Ari, I’m…gonna…”  her voice caught and her entire body went rigid for a second before she gave a low wail as the lights exploded in front her eyes and she came again, her body trembling beneath him.

“Good girl….” Ari panted, the feel of her walls clamping down around him was utter fucking bliss and his own thrusts now became desperate as he chased his own end. He dropped her leg from his shoulder, his hips continuing to snap back and forth and with a “fuck…” he felt the white, fire in his belly and his toes curled slightly as he came with a surge that rose from the very depth of his being. As the world went quiet around him, his hips faltered, slowed and then he collapsed on top of her, panting deeply, his face buried into her neck.

Hannah’s hands moved to gently run through his hair, her nails dragging along his scalp, down his neck and back again and Ari let out a soft hum of delight, relishing her touch and her smell as he nuzzled into her further, not daring to move in case this all turned out to be some ridiculously, vivid dream. He felt her gently press a kiss to his forehead and as he gained control of his senses he turned his head to catch her lips in a soft kiss.

“You ok?” he asked her softly and she gave him a smile as he pressed his forehead to hers as their breathing began to even out. He gently pulled out of her and rolled onto his back, swallowing as he looked up at the ceiling taking in a deep breath before he moved his arm and slid it round her, as she rolled onto her side, her head resting on his chest.

“Glad to see you haven’t lost your touch.” she teased and he gave a chuckle, his hand gently carding through her hair.

“Glad to see you still appreciate it.” he quipped back and she snorted, before they both fell into silence. It was comfortable, the pair of them satiated, the tension that had been simmering for months had finally boiled over and come to ahead meaning the pair of them were stripped bare, both metaphorically and physically. The slate was wiped clean, well as clean as it was going to get. And Ari was pleased to find it didn’t feel awkward. In fact, it felt good. Normal. As if it had been merely 9 hour since he’d held her in his arms like this, not 9 years.

The fait sounds of Sammy’s guitar hit their ears again, drifting in from the party still going on the beach and Ari pressed a kiss to Hannah’s head, giving a little sigh.

“I wanted to shove that guitar up your brother’s ass earlier.” he mumbled, his eyes falling shut.

“His playing isn’t that bad.”

Ari laughed “No, I mean he sat next to you at dinner, the seat I wanted.” “We don’t always get what we want Lobo.” “Yeah, well, I was going crazy.” he said, his eyes still closed. “It wasn’t like we could have done anything at the table Ari.”

“I know but I just wanted to be near you, that too hard to believe?”

“Ok who are you and what have you done with Ari Levinson?” she snorted and Ari shook his head.

“What can I say, it’s the Hannah Navon effect.”

She didn’t reply, instead he felt her shift slightly and he was just about to ask her what was wrong when he realised with horror he’d dropped her maiden name.

“Shit, sorry Firefly,that just slipped out. I mean…”

When she still didn’t reply he looked down at her. Whilst he couldn’t see all of her face he could tell she was thinking, and suddenly he was shitting himself about the fact he’d upset her.

“Han?” he asked softly “I’m sorry, I really am.”

“It’s ok. Don’t worry…” she said gently, her hand trailing through the hair on his chest, nails lightly scratching his skin. “It’s just been a while since anyone called me that.”

“Well, it’s been a while since it’s been your name.” he replied gently, his fingers softly caressing the skin at the back of her neck.

“I was actually thinking of changing it back.” she said quietly and Ari paused for a moment, looking down at her.

“How come?”

She shifted slight so that both her arms crossed under her chin and she rest them on his chest, looking up. “Horowitz was Andy’s name. He’s dead Ari” she spoke bluntly “He has been for 4 years. I just…”

“You’re still angry at him.” Ari stated and she looked away slightly.

“That’s part of it, yeah, I won’t lie.” she turned those blue eyes back onto Ari’s and sighed “I don’t know. Not like I can do it when we are out here anyway is it?” “Maybe it’s a good time to think about it some more.” he said, picking his words carefully “You don’t want to rush anything.”

“You don’t think I should?” she held his gaze and Ari shook his head.

“I don’t think anything Firefly. Whatever you decide it makes no difference to me. Name or not, you’ll always be the Hannah Navon I loved.”

At that her eyes widened and he stilled. Shit. That had slipped out and now as he lay there looking down at her he realised he’d just brought the sum total of women he had admitted that to up to a grand total of 2…even if it had been done in the wrong order.

“What did you just say?” Hannah whispered, not sure if she had heard him correctly.

Ari swallowed, his eyes never moving from hers “I said I loved you. I should have told you back then but…”

At that Hannah cut him off by leaning up and pressing her lips to his. The hand that wasn’t round her shoulders reached up and cupped her face, his thumb gently stroking over her cheek. Thankfully, she didn’t press him to explain anymore nor did she ask him to confirm how he still felt. He wasn’t sure he was quite ready to admit that out loud, even if he was becoming more and more sure he still did.

She lay her head back down and in an attempt to divert the attention from what he had just said he moved the conversation round to his trip to TA.

“Maya loved her bag.” he said, his hand returning to her back, his fingers brushing her spine.

“’I never doubted she would.” Hannah smiled “I have good taste.”

“Well it earned you a badge of honour in her mind.” Ari smiled “She said you were cool and she liked you.”

Hannah turned her head towards his “You talked about me with her?”

“You came up in conversation when I was talking to her about Simon. She wants a photo of him by the way.”

“Kids love animals.”

“Well Munchkin is no exception.” he smiled “She asked me all about him and so I told her how you’d found him. That coupled with the fact you picked her new favourite bag, well now she likes you and doesn’t even know you. Even asked me if you were pretty.”

“What did you say, Mi Lobo?” Hannah grinned, her tone teasing.

“That I guess you were.”

“You guess?” she scoffed, slapping his chest. Ari chuckled, catching her hand and bring it to his mouth, kissing her wrist “Yeah, she didn’t buy it either.”

“Bet Sarah loved that.” Hannah snorted, as he laced his fingers with hers, bringing her arm down so it rest over his stomach.

“Yeah, she heard and wasn’t exactly pleased. We had a frank and tense conversation but I think we finally got the cards on the table.” “What cards?”

“We talked about me and her not working and being destined to fail from the very beginning- her words not mine. I told her not to dismiss what we had but it was a little liberating, us both being honest.”

Hannah stayed still, pondering what Ari had just said. Sarah, being so sure that her marriage to Ari had been destined to fail from the off. She got the feeling that Ari wasn’t telling her exactly everything that Sarah had said but from the snippets of what he had told her, she could pretty much piece together that she had been the reason Sarah had said what she had. And truth be told she felt a little guilty pang in her stomach as she couldn’t help but sympathise with the woman.

“Hey, you with me Firefly?”

Ari’s words cut across her thoughts and she took a deep breath. “Yeah, Sorry, was just thinking about what she said…” “Please don’t.” Ari said softly “We let people get in our heads last time Han.”

She shifted slightly and nodded “Yeah, I know.”

And that was it, she’d clammed up on him. Ari suddenly felt his mouth go dry. She needed space. He’d piled too much on her after an emotionally charged physical reunion and now he was cursing himself. He took a deep breath and sat up gently, jostling her from his chest as he scanned the room, searching for his shorts.

“Are you leaving?” Hannah asked him, her voice quiet and he paused looking at her.

“I thought that’s what you…” and he trailed off as to his horror her eyes were misting over. “Ari, I…”  she shook her head and he let out another sigh, groaning inwardly at himself. How was he still managing to fuck this up.

“You want me to stay?” he asked.

“Yeah.” her voice was a whisper and he laid down on his side, wrapping his arms around her as she snuggled into him, her face pressed to his chest.

“I want you to stay in my life Ari, not just my bed.” she said, her voice muffled, her breath tickling his skin but there was no mistaking the tone of worry. He felt himself choke up, she was still petrified he was going to bail on her. And he supposed, given everything, if he put himself in her shoes he couldn’t blame her. “Hey…look at me.” he said gently, tipping her head up to face him. He tucked her hair behind her ear and cupped her face softly in his hand. “I’ve no intention of letting you go this time my firefly, I promise you.”

She flashed him a watery smile as his lips met hers again softly before me moved and pushed down the already rumpled covers, the pair of them shifting under them as Ari got comfortable, Hannah moving once more to him, snaking her leg between his as her hand rest over his stomach, his once more carding through her soft hair. There was no noise now other than the faint sounds of voices, one of which was Max bidding someone a goodnight as his footsteps padded past Hannah’s window. And then nothing, bar the sound of the ocean, the waves softly lapping against the shore. They stayed still, basking in one another’s warmth and softness and then just as his eyes had started to close, Ari felt a thud at the bottom of the bed. He cracked open and eye and saw Simon had hopped up and was padding around in a small circle, before he flopped down.

“Are you supposed to be there?” he asked the dog, his voice a whisper. Simon looked at him, yawning, before he lay his head down, on his paws, yawning.

Ari chuckled and glanced down at Hannah. Her eyes were shut, her eyelashes laying flush to her still pink cheeks, her breathing soft. Pressing a kiss to the top of her head he lay back down, surrendering to tendrils of sleep pulling at him. The last thing he thought before he drifted off was the only time he had felt so happy was the day Maya was born.

[danadeservesadrink]

Do You Believe in Fate Chapter 4

So How’d It Go? Read on AO3 here

Angst warning!! This is an important chapter but damn was it hard to write! Tagging @today-in-fic . Enjoy and please let me know your thoughts!

“Dana Scully speaking”

“So how’d it go?”

“You know hello would have been nice Missy”

“Tell me! You can’t just leave the house on Thursday with that dress in your suitcase and expect me to not want details?”

“Did you go through my luggage?”

“I was looking for a top. But who was the guy? Was it David from work? Or Mark from that bar that one time?”

“And why should I tell you?”

“Dana this is the first time you’ve gone out in a year-”

“10 months.”

“Whatever. I just want to know who the lucky guy is.”

“His name is Mulder…”

“Mulder?”

“It’s his last name. He doesn’t like his first.”

“Mysterious. I like it. Go on.”

“He’s living in my old apartment”

“Wow Danes that seriously some rom com shit”

“I know, I know. He’s cute. Tall, far too confident, obviously brilliant…”

“Sounds like you’re already in love”

“But I don’t think it’s going to work out.”

“What, why? It was only the first date what could he have possibly done wrong”

“He works at the FBI. On unexplained cases of the supernatural variety. X files he called them.”

“Oh.”

“I don’t know if I can see him again.”

“Does he know?”

“Did I tell him on our first and probably only date that if he looks hard enough he likely has a file in his office with my name in it? No, he doesn’t know.”

“Do you think he’s doing an undercover investigation on you?”

“Gee thanks Mis, because the only reason a guy would be interested in me would be because he’s on a secret case”

“I’m not saying that! But don’t you think it’s a little weird that the minute you moved out of your old apartment an FBI agent investigating the paranormal moves in to take your place?”

“I don’t know Missy. I don’t know, it's just too much to think about. I’m going to go to bed now.”

“Ok. You’re coming home on Monday right?”

“Yea. I’ll see you then.”

“Goodnight Danes.”

“Night Missy.”

It was her luck that something like this would happen. Hadn’t she already been through enough? She left Stanford with a medical degree and all the freedom in the world, moved to her favorite city, and started saving lives. She made the world a better place, worked her ass off day in and day out to help children, saving God’s little angels, and how does He repay her? By ripping her life into pieces and throwing them into the trash, and then lighting the trash can on fire. So she moves back home, stays with her family. She recovers, she fights to get the life she had back, and she finally develops some sense of normalcy, even getting confident enough to go back out with a guy. And he’s a fucking alien investigator at the FBI. Like she hadn’t dealt with enough G-men already. Now this man who had somehow captivated her mind for the last month was just another threat. And she really was so naive as to believe the world would throw a perfectly good man in her lap.

She certainly hadn’t been looking. When he had first called her all she wanted was for him to leave her alone. She didn’t trust men anymore, and certainly didn’t feel like putting in the effort to court one. But talking to him in her apartment made her feel those butterflies she hadn’t felt in a long time. He just had this air around him, an aura that projected both confidence and a pure wild energy, a mix that intoxicated her every time she drew near him. He grabbed her wrist and she hadn’t worn a bracelet for the next week. She could still feel the phantom grip of his fingers and the electricity that flowed through them, like a newly connected circuit powering up for the first time. He hadn’t left her head since. She tried to call him as soon as she got home the next day, but she had been so caught up with his floppy hair and lopsided smile that she had completely forgotten to save his number from her mother’s phone to hers. So she placed faith in the postal system and hoped he would be charmed by her antics. And it worked. She was going out on a date with a man who made her head spin, one who tried to pretend that he was unphased by probably the tightest dress she owned even though he didn’t close his mouth for a full minute when he first saw her.

The date was perfect until they had talked about jobs. And then he dropped the bomb and she tried to brush off the feeling in the pit of her stomach by making stupid jokes and he laughed but she couldn’t help but dwell.

“UFO’s, cryptids, anything from crop circles to spontaneous human combustion. If the FBI can’t solve it, they toss it in my pile”

Did he know? He couldn’t have. What kind of psychopath brings up the fact that he studies alien abductions to someone like her. And if he really was undercover he wouldn’t want her to know what his real job was would he? He would have lied.

Unless he was toying with her.

Unless this was another experiment on her, another way to keep tabs on her, make sure she didn’t talk, make sure she was doing her very best to forget everything that happened to her.

She got up from the bed abruptly and shut the blinds on the windows. They clacked together and then the room fell into deep silence again.

He didn’t talk about work for the whole rest of the dinner. He talked about baseball, about how he goes for runs in the park she used to walk through after a long day shift. He said “Behold, a man” when the waiter brought out her garlic and herb chicken. Mulder wouldn’t do that to her. Mulder was just a man with a job whose only interest in her life was whether she was free next Friday to go out again. He paid for the cab back to her hotel and opened the door for her to get in. He was a gentleman.

He’s trying to get her to trust him.

And suddenly everything clicked into place and the air left her lungs. She found herself stumbling to the bed, she knocked over the lamp but it was in her way and she just needed to be in bed. Her ears were ringing, she couldn’t hear, everything was going in and out of black.

He’s watching you. He’s with them. He’s trying to silence you. He’s going to follow you, gain your trust and then he’s going to kill you. He knows where you live, he can track you down, they’ve tried to take her before and he will try again. He’s with them, he’s with them, he’s going to kill you, they’re going to kill you.

Everything’s bright and she’s back in that place with needles and tubes in and out of her, and she knows she’s in a hotel in DC but as many times as she tries to wrap the blankets around her and tuck her feet under her she cannot become small enough to escape them. She feels tears hot down the sides of her cheeks and the sounds of drills in her ears and there's no escape. She hears pounding and wailing and hands grip her wrists and they burn, they burn, so she screams. She won’t let them take her again, she won’t.

“Scully, Scully it's me”

She fights it, and it’s him, it’s Mulder and he’s trying to take her, like she thought.

“Let go of me!” She shrieks, flailing about but she’s trapped, he’s got her trapped, in bed sheets tied around her wrists and feet. “Don’t take me!”

He lets go but she’s still trapped, still fighting.

“Scully no one’s going to take you.”

“Yes! Yes they’re going to take me! You’re going to take me!” He touches her hand and it doesn't burn but it makes a lump in her throat and her fist turns flat. He pulls a sheet off of her and she feels exposed.

“Scully look at me.”

She does. She looks through tears at a blurred man in her hotel room. He doesn’t look like a threat. He looks sad.

“How did you get in here.” He steps to the edge of the bed and she pushes herself back towards the headboard, away. He raises both hands and walks to the other side of the bed where he sits.

“You left your wallet in the taxi. He called me because I paid and I picked it up and brought it here. I made it to your room and I wasn’t going to come in but I heard the lamp crash. So I used the spare key in the wallet and let myself in.”

He seemed to be telling the truth, holding up the wallet as evidence. She hadn’t even realized it was gone.She unlocked the door with the key she kept in her purse. She started to take in her surroundings, the lamp crashed to the floor, the bedsheets thrown from the bed. She looked up at him and saw nothing but concern over his face.

Every emotion, shame, embarrassment, anger, sadness, all of it hit her at once and she sobbed.

He reached over to touch her but she shouted “No!”, like a wounded dog. Her voice didn’t sound real. “Please don’t touch me”.

“Do you want me to go?”

“No.”

He watched as tears racked her body, never moving from his spot on the bed. She cried in a ball, hands covering her face, arms and knees tucked to her sides, protecting her from nothing. Then, she laid down, and cried until the tears had to be blinked down the sides of her face while she stared at the ceiling. She felt him get off the bed, and she bolted up, dizzying herself, but he nodded and only walked over to the minifridge to pull out a bottle of water. She sat up and he resumed his position at the end of the bed.

“Drink some water. Can you breathe again?”

She hated the way he talked to her, like she was a child. But he was right. She accepted the bottle and drank half, gulping down cold water as a welcomed change to the hot sheets.

“Yes. I’m sorry you had to see that. You can go now.”

“Don’t be sorry. I know panic attacks can be bad.”

“I’m ok now. You can go.” The crack in her voice made both of them wince. A different type of silence filled the room.

“You know I am a psychologist, but it doesn’t take an Oxford degree to diagnose PTSD.”

“I said I’m fine. You can go now Mulder.”

“What happened Dana.”

She sat and stared at him, sitting on her bed, asking her to spill her darkest secrets to him. Everything about telling him felt wrong but this is the first time anyone has offered to listen.

“About a year ago, a man broke into my apartment and abducted me. He drugged me and put me in the back of his truck and drove me to a cornfield in Virginia. I remember waking up and seeing the stars and trying to run but I was tied down. And then a bright light came and I-” She choked back another sob, but he shifted closer to her, eyes wide, and nodded for her to continue. “I don’t remember what happened. But my mother found me on her doorstep a month later in a hospital gown and…” her voice cut out. He again moved closer and when she didn’t pull back he slowly raised his hand and put it on her knee. He looked at her as if to ask “is this ok” and she nodded in response.

“I don’t remember anything except seeing my mother’s face again for the first time. She looked so… so terrified of me. Like I had grown another head or something. And then I looked down, and I was holding a baby”. She felt another tear run down her cheek.

“I was holding a baby and I didn’t know whose it was and I almost dropped it. Mom took it from me and my sister came and helped me inside, the whole time they were asking me where I’d been but I didn’t know. I didn’t remember anything. All of these people showed up at our house and asked me over and over again “where were you?” “what happened” and I just kept answering them I don’t know, I don’t know. They said I went on a bender. That I ran away from work and responsibilities, probably with some friends. They said I was pregnant and didn’t know it, and they tried to take the baby for testing but my mother wouldn’t let them. She didn’t believe them, she knew I wouldn’t do that. I don’t remember much of what happened next, but we packed up everything and moved out of my apartment… your apartment. They didn’t even open an investigation on the man that took me.”

“I can.” She had been staring at the lamp on the ground, she hadn’t noticed him staring at her with such intensity it made her shiver.

“You don’t get it. They didn’t open a case on me because there wasn’t enough evidence-”

“They didn’t open a case on you because you were abducted. The FBI has been trying to suppress alien abductions for years and you are just another victim. I could open a case on you, start an investigation, really stick it to them-”

“I am not a case that needs to be solved, Mulder.”

“But I can help you Scully. Do you remember anything from that night, anything at all?”

“Mulder!”

“I don’t understand, why would you not want to know what happened?”

“Because Mulder, because sometimes the weight of what happened is too much to bear. Because while you try to hunt down monsters they terrorize me in my sleep. Because there’s a baby in my house and I don’t know where it came from.” She realized she was yelling at him but she didn’t care. “Because frankly it’s none of your goddamn business what happened to me if I don’t want it to be. The men who you work for threatened to kill me and my family if I tried to find out what happened to me and for all I know you’re one of them.” Her voice was shrill and sharp like broken glass and it cut just where it needed to.  

“I’m sorry.”

She met his eyes again and they were wide and sad.

“I want to help you Scully. I’ll do…” he took a breath, “anything. I’ll do anything to help you.”

“I need you to leave.”

“Ok.”

He got up and she remained on the bed, drained.

“Will I see you again?”

“I don’t know.”

“Ok. Goodbye Scully.”

“Goodbye Mulder.”

[hyperions-strap]

Jack VS His Chair.

Summary: Jack is 6 months pregnant, and it seems his office just isn't suitable for him anymore. His luxurious chair doesn't give him the support his aching sore back needs.

💝 Link for AO3 💝

Note: Feel free to send me other prompts for omega!Jack here on Tumblr!

Jack isn’t known for his patience on the best of days, but when carrying around a 3 pound developing baby (give or take) on his hips, influencing his mood and needs 24/7, it’s safe to say his patience is nonexistent. He can still do his job perfectly well, but there’s just more obstacles now. More nuisances that catch his attention, distract his focus, and cause him to act out. 

Meetings are slow today, which should be a good thing, but all it means is Jack gets to spend more time sitting behind his desk, filtering between finance reports, and marketing contracts, and submissions for new weapons that can utilize the latest strain of Slag to its best ability. On most days that’s not too bad - a little boring, but all in all, harmless - but since entering his third trimester, he hates sitting at his desk. 

Jack generally can’t sit anywhere for too long, less he faces the wrath of his backache getting unbearable. Sometimes the agony moves through his bones and cramps his limbs, or his chest, or his neck. It’s like his back commands the troops to torture his muscles. In most cases the only cure is a back massage, courtesy of his lover's fingers, but that's not an option currently. Rhys is at Atlas for a few hours, busy schmoozing some benefactors willing to fund his latest string of cryo sniper rifles. This means Jack has to begrudgingly power through the pain. 

3 more months, give or take. That's how long he has left of suffering before the demon spawn draining his life will be in his arms. In theory, 3 months isn't a very long amount of time, but time moves so painstakingly slow when pregnant. He tries to remind himself the reward at the end is worth the pain, but then one of his hellish symptoms kicks in with a wrath. 

His keyboard rattles as he types feverishly, until a strong, searing pain shoots up his spine. He sucks in sharply and holds his breath, freezing. The pain burns at his vertebrae, almost like it's being squeezed by hands caught on fire, determined to make his bones crack. He exhales heavily and leans back in his lavish office chair. He rests a hand on top of his round belly.

"Give daddy a break, will you, princess?" He tries to bargain with his unborn child, but there's no change in his state. The pain doesn't subside, and neither does his irritation. He rubs down his belly, sighing, looking down at his bloated midsection in disappointment. "You know your life is in my hands, right? You really shouldn't be pissing me off."

Silence.

Not that he'd expected a verbal response. He groans under his breath, hiking himself up and leaning over the desk. He pushes a button on his phone and waits patiently, drumming his fingers on his desk.

"This is Rhys Strongfork, CEO of Atlas corporation, how can I help you?"

He sounds so self righteous and smug, Jack can't help but snicker. "Hay, kitten, how's my favourite rival doing?" He leans back in his seat again. He places a hand on the small of his back and pushes his palm deep into his flesh, hoping to subside the pain. It's miniscule, may as well be nothing.

He hears a light cluttering as Rhys fusses over nick-nacks on his desk. "I should be the one checking in on you. How's our little girl?"

Jack rolls his eyes and sighs. "She's fine. I'm peachy too, thanks for asking."

"I was about to ask how you were too, don't get jealous."

Jack hates the smug, amused tone in his voice. "You could at least ask about me first, since I'm the one lugging around the brat." He rubs the underside of his belly. As usual, a strip of skin peaks free from the confines of his stretched sweater. Rhys has bought him a plethora of clothes to fit his ever growing form, but Jack still insists on wearing his faithful Hyperion sweater. The material is beyond stretched out now, it's working tirelessly to keep him modest, but it can't work miracles. A 6 month pregnant omega bump is too powerful for its cotton.

He hears further rustling on Rhys' end of the phone. He digs the heel of his palm into the side of his belly and holds his breath. A dull pain ricochets from his back round to his abdomen. He manages to distribute the pain and ease the intensity, but little can be done about his back.

"You know I've got baby brain, Jack. Nothing but babies - baby, baby, baby-- it's a curse!"

"Yeah, well you better force me back to front and center. I'm the one doing the hard work, not her."

Rhys laughs softly. "How are you, Jack?" He asks sincerely, though amused. Jack is happy to know no matter what, he's still the one happily in charge of their relationship. Though social standards try to determine the alpha is in charge, especially when their omega is pregnant preparing to deliver, Jack and Rhys don't at all abide by those rules. They never have, and Jack most certainly never will. If Rhys were like other alphas, hot headed and stubborn, determined to dominate him like a foolish brute, Jack would have never agreed to having his baby. He'd been strict about the dynamics of their relationship, and determined to make sure his status as an omega was respected. Jack didn't have shame in his title - in fact, he wore it with pride.

He absentmindedly rubs his belly and exhales as the pain in his back momentarily subsides. "I'm alright, pumpkin. Craving something greasy."

"You sound wound up."

Jack snickers. "Do I? Probably being surrounded by knuckleheads." He laughs again, but the movement makes his back seizes up again, making him yelp embarrassingly. He clutches at the point of pain, and grinds his teeth as it shoots up through his spine like electricity following a circuit. He curses under his breath when he hears Rhys' distressed worries calling for him over the line. "Still here, don't worry."

"Are you okay?! What was that noise?!"

"That noise was me!" With great difficulty, Jack pushes himself out of his luxurious golden chair, arching his back and pushing into the point of discomfort with both his hands before taking one away to cup the base of his belly. Moving is starting to become more difficult by himself, much to his displeasure. Some days he needs Rhys to physically hoist him out of bed. He glares at his chair and begins walking around his desk in circles. "I'm fine though, don't fret."

"Jack, you're 6 months pregnant. All I do is worry." Rhys is moving around more now, changing scenes by the sounds of things as wind brushes by and external chatter fills the void. "I'm coming to see you."

"What?! Oh geez, that's not necessary--"

"When you're carrying around our baby, it's always necessary."

Jack pinches the bridge of his nose. He hates being fussed over, and that's all that happens these days. "No, really, it's not! It's just my damn back playing up!" He hears what he assumes to be Rhys stopping in his tracks. "The baby is fine and dandy though, kicking my bladder and making me the size of a whale. It's the office chair, makes me feel like someones ripping out my spine. I should start bringing a pillow from home."

"Why not buy a more comfortable chair? Don't they sell maternity chairs for working omegas?" Rhys' question is innocent enough, but it makes Jack irritated nevertheless. It's like admitting he's weak, that the chair has bested him. He doesn't realise he's growling until Rhys starts laughing. "It's probably more comfortable than the one you have anyway. Remember when we tried to have sex in it after the office party last year? I almost broke my leg."

Jack chuckles. "That's because you're too freakin' long! Those string beans you call legs weren't made for tight spaces." Jack looks down at the sphere supporting his hips, kneading his brows as he thinks. "Those omega special chairs are a scam though, it's to make possessive alphas like you spend your hard earned money and stroke your ego!"

"The reviews look pretty good to me."

"I don't give a rat's ass what the reviews are like." Jack yells back. He moves to sit back at his desk, but as if the cushions are made of spikes, he immediately yells out in pain and grips the wood of the desk for dear life. He curses so loud an echo reverberates around the office. He tries to power through, scooting forward, only to bump his belly off the desk edge and hurt himself that way. "Jesus fucking Christ, I'm going to airlock whoever made this desk just for inconveniencing me!"

Suddenly there's a knock at his office door. He frowns, looking at it before pressing a button to open the door. Rhys walks in with a smug smile, hanging up the comm he had with Jack. 

"What, how did--"

"I took a fast travel. Come on, I'm taking you chair shopping."

Jack grumbles in annoyance, but after a tender back massage and belly rub, he gives in with little fight.

[lumiolivier]

The Good Old Days Chapter 29: A Walk of Shame Looks Good on You

A/N: Hi, friends! Look, I'm sitting here waiting for bleach to process, so I got a little time to kill. But before we get into anything fun, we need to take care of some business first. Nothing bad. It's just a little housekeeping before I leave for Michigan.

I know I said you'd be taken care of while I'm gone. Well, I lied. I thought you'd be taken care of, but I'm going to be away from my computer and away from my desk and you're going to have to wait a couple weeks until the next update, ok? I hope that's alright with you. I really did try, guys. I tried my damnedest. So, we'll be back in August. I promise. And I love you x

I’m pretty sure I left Veronica in capable hands. At least I sure as hell hope so. Once my shift came to an end, I wanted nothing more than to go home and crash. Granted, I knew I’d be up half the night, worrying about Veronica and hoping she made it home ok, but I’m sure she’ll be alright. If all else fails, she can kick ass with the best of them. And Tessa didn’t seem like the type to steal one of Veronica’s kidneys. I hope things work out with those two.

All I wanted now was to go home and crash, though. It’s been a long ass day. And a long ass night. And all I wanted was my bed. That sounded downright heavenly. And maybe a drink or two. Just a little something, something to cap off the night. It’s not like I got to have one with the Old Man. I was busy working the bar. Even though I wasn’t technically supposed to. But I digress. Still, a drink sounded nice. Both my brothers had their vices. César smoked like a chimney and I’m not sure how legal Tony’s vices were. I knew he kept them in the house, but I wasn’t going to tell anyone. I don’t think he even knew I knew.

Once I got home, I went straight into the bedroom and fell into my bed without a sound. Good. I could use about twelve hours of uninterrupted sleep. But I knew better than that. I took a quick hit from the tequila bottle and shut my eyes. In a perfect world, I wouldn’t just get that twelve hours of sleep, but I’d have something better in place of my body pillow. But I knew that wasn’t happening. Unless one of my brothers were stupid enough to try and be my little spoon. We were close, but we weren’t that close.

The next morning, I woke up to an empty house. Tony and César weren’t in their beds. Mama had already left for work. I wasn’t sure what to do with myself. The world was my oyster. At least this time, I didn’t wake up wanting to walk into oncoming traffic, so I got that going for me. And even with this new lease on life (despite me still wishing like hell that Vanessa as on the next flight home), I needed a way to kill the day before I had to go play in the Narrows.

Breakfast? Maybe I start with breakfast. And it happens to be eleven o’clock. I knew where I could get the best breakfast in the city. Just down the block. I threw my shoes on and headed toward that beautiful, bright green oasis in the middle of this concrete jungle. Dios los bendiga…I’m home. Well, I’d always feel at home in the city I loved, but this? This seemed a little more like home than I could’ve ever anticipated in my life.

“Buenos dias, niño!” Abuela greeted me. And right there. Right there was the cure for what ailed me. If only I had the energy to come here yesterday morning. Maybe I wouldn’t have been in the funk I’ve been in since a flight left JFK for Rome yesterday morning. But I digress. I still had Abuela.

“Morning,” I melted inside.

“Regular order then?” she assumed.

“Si, por favor,” I nodded, “And uh…You know how you’ve been making my horchata with…”

“Espresso in your horchata,” Abuela knew me all too well, “Of course, Frankie. I can tell when you had a rough night. I’m not going to ever say no to you and you should know better than to even think I would.”

“Sorry, Abuela,” I giggled a bit. Yep. This woman would always be the cure for whatever ailed me. In this case, it’s depression and a certain kind of homesickness I’ve never had before.

“It’s alright, mijo,” she let it go, “You seem off. And not like you went out with Tony and César last night and came home an hour after closing time. Is everything alright?”

“It’s been better,” I brushed her off, “But nothing you need to worry about.”

Because that was for me to worry about. I didn’t need to put that burden on Abuela’s shoulders. As good as a vent would probably do me, she didn’t need that. And I didn’t really feel like getting into it. Abuela had enough to take care of. And I needed a distraction more than anything. That’s half the reason why I liked coming here. I watch Abuela carefully craft my newborn baby burrito with love while I get to throw down horchata. Occasionally, I get some words of wisdom from her. It’s a good time. Besides, this food truck had more than just Abuela memories attached to it. It had…

BAM!

I felt a tiny pair of arms wrap around my waist and a face in the middle of my back, “We really need to stop running into each other like this, Frankie.”

Gracias a dios, she made it home ok. And I’m assuming with both kidneys. There’s the other memories Abuela’s food truck has…It’s where it all began again. If I never would’ve met the little spazz at my hip, who knows if I would’ve gotten my second shot with her sister? But I don’t know…I think I like her sister. Just a little bit. And…Well…She’s not too bad either. I spun Veronica around and got a decent look at her. And she looked like hell, but in the best way.

“Let’s see,” I teased her a bit, “Last night’s clothes, hair a mess, a hoody that does not belong to you, smudged mascara under your eyes…What? No broken heel, Veronica?”

“No,” Veronica rolled her eyes, “You’re mixing me up with my sister again, Frankie. That’s a Vanessa thing. I don’t wear heels. More of a platform leather boots type myself, but that’s just me.”

“Still,” I threw an arm around her, “Walks of shame look cute on you, Veronica.”

“Last night was fun,” Veronica leaned on me, stilling a drink from my horchata, “I fucking owe you.”

“For what?” I giggled, “I didn’t do anything.”

“My ass, you didn’t!” she squealed, “Dude, it’s not every day someone like Tessa walks into a bar that I just happen to be at for the night. That kind of serendipity doesn’t happen for someone like me.”

“I’d be careful about whose love story you’re poking at there, Veronica,” I argued, “Because…Uh…Didn’t we meet because of a relationship that started that very same way?”

“We met right here,” Veronica reminded me, “Because someone was too chicken shit to call Vanessa on his own and needed a wingman.”

“Call last night me paying you back,” I threw a ten on the window, “Abuela?”

“Si, Frankie?” she popped out, “Necesitas algo?”

“She does,” I ordered for her, “Before she slurps down all of my horchata.”

“I’m a thirsty bitch,” Veronica shrugged, “Sue me.”

“Gladly.”

“I got dibs on Vanessa.”

“Dammit…” I grumbled to myself, “Alright. I respectfully withdraw and I’ll just be over here doing other things. Don’t worry about me.”

“You’re just mad she’d represent me first,” Veronica laughed.

“And Abuela,” I added, “If you wanted to add extra spit to her taquitos, I wouldn’t say no.”

“Francisco!” Abuela snapped, “No! Sabes que nunca lo haría!”

“It’s a joke,” I backed off, “Just a little joke. A little ha, ha. Sorry…I know you wouldn’t.”

“Es verdad…” Abuela wrapped my burrito up and got started on Veronica’s taquitos, “Honestly, Frankie…I’m disappointed.”

“It’s alright, Abuela,” Veronica let it go, “I knew he meant it with love.”

“So,” I wondered, “What happened after you and Tessa left the Narrows?”

“We went out,” Veronica’s face lit up, “There’s a club about five blocks down from her apartment building. Her band played!”

“I didn’t know she was in a band.” But I could tell she at least played by the state of her fingers.

“I didn’t either until last night,” she swooned, “And she’s damn good at it! I’ve never seen someone jam like that. She’s much better than any of the local bands around here. Hell, at one point, I didn’t think she even needed the rest of the band. She was amazing on her own. But it’s more than just that. You should’ve seen it, Frankie. She’s…She’s too cool for me. I know I’m a pretty cool bitch, but she’s even cooler than I am.”

“Shut up,” I settled her, “There’s no way.”

“It’s true!” Veronica went on, “When we went back to her apartment, she showed me this big, beautiful bong that she blew herself! And it was so fucking pretty. It was probably a couple feet long, but it was black and hot pink and a neon green and this really pretty smoky electric blue and I have never wanted something more in my life. Dear god, it’s gorgeous. We burned one and went to sleep. No sex, no nothing. Just…Neither one of us wanted to sleep alone and Tessa wasn’t going to make me go back home. So, we didn’t. So, I laid there with her and…Frankie, I almost cried. It felt so fucking nice for a change.”

“Well, I’m happy for you, kiddo,” I kissed the top of her head, “And I’m glad I could help. But like I said. You helped me get Vanessa. Why shouldn’t you get Tessa, too?”

“I appreciate it,” Veronica threw her arms around me, “Seriously, Frankie…I’ve never had a serious girlfriend before. I’ve had casuals, but never anything serious.”

“Are you already thinking serious?” I gasped.

“Kind of…” a quick flash of red brushed across her cheeks, “But I don’t need your judgment, Mr. I’ve known Vanessa for six months and I damn near proposed to her the other night.”

“I never said there was any sort of judgment,” I assured her, grabbing her order from the window, “Gracias, Abuela.”

“De nada, cariño,” Abuela smiled, “Please. Go on. This is the most excitement I’ve gotten all morning. I’m invested.”

“I need to be getting home,” Veronica winced, “Before I end up playing into Victoria’s kidnapping fantasies, too.”

“Alright,” I hugged her tight, “And again, my offer still stands.”

“I know,” she nuzzled into me, “If Victoria becomes too much for me to handle and I can’t suppress the urge to choke her anymore, I know where you live. I know where you sleep. I know where you work when you’re working legit. And I’m more than welcome any time I want.”

“That’s my girl,” I kissed her forehead, “I love you, Veronica.”

“I love you, too, Frankie.” Don’t get me wrong. I love Vanessa dearly. But damn, having Veronica here is going to be a major help to my psyche while she’s gone. Mostly because I don’t think Veronica’s going to let me be depressed and beat myself up for letting Vanessa go to Italy. That wasn’t my decision to make. Hell, it was barely hers. Because there’s no way this doesn’t reek of Victoria’s meddling.

Instead of getting pissed like I probably should, I reveled in the fact that she was getting a whole different life experience. And if anyone could relate to what that experience was, it’d be me. My first time in Spain in my cognitive memory was the weirdest culture shock. I had grown up in New York. I knew nothing about life there except from what Mama and my brothers told me. But I had nothing firsthand. Until I was processing everything at four years old. Getting on the plane, making a layover in London, wondering why the hell everyone talked so weird. It’s not that I didn’t know the language. Mama made damn sure of that. To the point where I remember her bitching at Tony or César for speaking to me in English.

But Vanessa wasn’t dealing with Spain. Vanessa was in Italy. I didn’t even know if she was there yet. She had to be. Unless she had that same layover last a little longer than what she’d like. Than what I’d like. But they happen. It’s not like we had control over that. Still, I went home to an empty apartment and thumbed through the TV, hoping there’d be something on. Something to hold my attention long enough while I ate. I mean, Willow was on, but I’d rather not watch Willow for the millionth time just because it was on.

Ring, ring.

Huh…It’s not often the phone rings. I got up from the couch and grabbed it, just to shut it up, “Bueno…”

“Buona sera, amore mio…” a soft, husky voice greeted me on the other end. And I’m not too proud to admit I damn near broke down, “Quanto mi manchi così…”

“Vanessa…?” I could hardly get her name out of my mouth.

“Hi, baby…” her voice broke a bit. It’s good to know I’m not alone here, but that was one of the worst sounds in the world. I couldn’t tell if those were tears of joy or tears of pain. I’m going to go out on a limb, cross my fingers, and say it’s joy.

“Fuck, it does my heart good to hear your voice again,” I gushed, “Are you alright? You doing ok?”

“Ok as I can be, I suppose,” Vanessa reported, “I mean…It’d be nice if I was there with you, but…”

“I know, I know,” I settled her, “Can’t get what we want. But look on the bright side. We got this.”

“Yeah, we do…” I swear to God, I heard a smile in that girl’s voice. And in that moment, I knew everything was going to be ok.

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt.5

Lance dragged his carcass to his bed way too late in the night that it had to be nearly sunrise. Blue annoyed she had to share “her” bed with such a pathetic excuse of a human, further annoyed as Lance wrapped his arms around her. Letting Pidge have sugar had been a terrible mistake for everyone involved. She’d talked through every second of every video, rewinding and pausing frequently to review anything that caught her eyes. Hunk screaming at both jump scares had been captured in the videos, Pidge thinking she was onto some kind of wailing banshee, until Lance had to point out it was Hunk. His poor bestie doing his best to melt into the blue couch cushions as his face burned. Shiro let Pidge talk as much as she liked, Keith sat there and glared when he finally came out the shower to join them. The idiot hadn’t even dried his hair off, throwing himself down next to brother where he shot Lance a look of what seemed to be pure disgust. The dude was a little ball of anger muffin, actually, Pidge was the anger muffin of the group, meaning Keith had to be... the anger loaf? The vampire was like 90% sure that wasn’t a thing, but with Keith being taller and more grizzled than his twig arse, Lance couldn’t do the brain to work out what he was, other than annoying. God, he was going to be dead in the morning.

The storm howled all night long, the latch on Lance’s window deciding to break, Blue sent flying under the bed after jumping squarely on Lance’s face, claws out as she did. A quick glance to his alarm clock confirmed the power had already gone out, meaning no lights, meaning not much point trying to fix the damn window until the sun came up. Except a normal damn person wouldn’t be sleeping away in rapidly cooling room. They’d be scared and all that... Pidge had said karma was coming their way, yet she’d failed to mention it was bad karma.

Pulling on his robe, Lance left Blue under the bed to make her own way out. A scared Blue meant the claws were out. That was a job for a Lance who didn’t feel every bit dead as he’d been for the last 3 plus decades. Heading down the hall, he let himself into the room Hunk and Pidge were sharing. The lamp between the beds off, Pidge snoring away on her side, the side effect of having no power. She must have left her phone bank at home, or she’d probably still be working on her theories from the hospital. In his bed, Hunk was clutching his phone in his sleep. He’d left his fucking glasses in his room, and now it felt like too much effort to go back. Lance didn’t particularly want to crawl into bed with Hunk, but what did normal people do? Would Shiro and Keith think him weird? Fuck... he couldn’t sleep next to either of his friends. He didn’t want to do anything that wouldn’t be considered normal... a normal person... would sleep on the couch. He couldn’t very well magic himself up into a bat and sleep in the attic for the night. Ugh. He was over this. Thoroughly over this.

*

The couch was cold and uncomfortable. There was a spot on the ceiling above it that’d started mocking him something after his third roll over as he tried to go the fuck to sleep. One spot led to two, then three... mocking his entire existence with their round unwanted circleness. The ceiling could probably use a fresh recoat. If he was going to redo the ceiling, he might as well update the rug under the coffee table... and then there was the latch to fix, how many other latched needed fixing... maybe he could put some fresh roses in the garden, the candy striped ones his Mami loved were already backed by white sprawling roses... he had abracadabras in for his papi... aaaaaand now his brain wouldn’t shut up. Maybe it was true about old people and their love for gardening. He really should spend the day tidying everything back up... He had the land and space, but everything other than the roses seemed to be neglected... maybe he could plant out his death soil? Put a nice little fountain there? Some violas and petunias? So much for sleeping. Pidge was going to love this.

Lance gave it what must have been an hour, by his time, after the first rays of sun started to dye the sky in light. The weather drizzly, overcast, and cold. A bit like his mood. Annoyed to find the coffee machine relied on power, now on top of his craptastic night, he was going to have to deal with a caffeine deprived Pidge in the morning. Sure, he was already going about boiling water in a metal kettle on the gas stove top, but Pidge insisted she needed two large coffees each morning before she was ready to face the world. He’d only invested in a coffee maker for the sake of her and Hunk. He’d missed the boat on the human race’s race towards coffee addiction.

Cracking a dozen eggs, Lance hoped he’d was making enough as he whipped up potato fritters and bacon... Then decided he wasn’t being a good enough host, adding fried tomatoes, fried eggs, a bowl of baked beans from a can he didn’t know he had, the finally fried bread thanks to the fact his damn toaster was electric too and he supposed people would want bread. There went his food for the week. Leaving the oven door down, Lance turned the oven on, sliding the plates and bowls in to keep them warm. Now he just needed his visitors to wake the fuck up and get the fuck out...

Lured by the scent of breakfast, Blue came running in ahead of Shiro. Making straight for the kitchen counter, Blue let out a demanding squeaked meow, yes, he knew, she wanted her morning wet food

“Good morning, my love. Breakfast will be ready in a tick”

“Thanks, darling?”

Obviously Shiro knew he was talking to Blue. Seriously, couldn’t a man talk to his damn cat without being attacked?

“Shiro, you’re not fucking funny”

Keith shuffled around the doorway, Lance feeling it’s should be criminal for house guests not to loudly declared where they were and which rooms they were entering, because damn, with his shirt hiked up that strip of smooth taunt belly between the hem and his jeans just wasn’t fair

“You tell me that every day”

“Because all you do is get older and less fucking funny. Where’s the coffee?”

“The power’s off, you’ll have to make do without. Sorry, Lance, he’s barely human until he has his coffee”

Be nice. Be nice. Be nice. Big fake smile, he wasn’t as dead as he was body was, all smiles

“That’s alright, Shiro. Pidge is the same. If she doesn’t have her two coffees she’s purely demonic. She’s been known to bite, scratch and kick. I used the kettle on the stove, not exactly cafe quality but as my mother would say, “if it’s good enough for your grandmother, it’s good enough for you””

“I’m pretty impressed, not many people would think about boiling water on the stove top”

“My family used to go camping quite a bit when I was a kid. As long as you’ve got a gas stove, you’re pretty much prepared for times the power goes out. Do you two want to eat first, or shall I go get Hunk and Pidge?”

“Oh... we don’t want to intrude...”

“You’re not. Everything’s already done, we’ll eat then I’ll run you into town. Sorry the power went out, your probably dying to know how your car’s going. Hunk’s dad always wakes up at the crack of dawn, so by the time we’re done, he should have some kind of update for you”

“I’m that case, sure. Thanks so much for all of this. I know you weren’t terribly keen on us crashing for the night”

“Well, you didn’t murder me in my sleep, and as far as I can see you haven’t killed Pidge and Hunk, so you pass with flying colours. I’ll be right back”

Lance fled as politely as he could, hitting his shoulder on the doorframe as he did. God, could he be more embarrassing? Who makes another murder joke when the time’s passed and it was now like he was flogging a dead horse. Pidge was right, he was lame as fuck... old age finally setting in... next thing came death... ugh, he really needed to stop with the mental joking. Insanity was a very real risk that came with living for too long. If he kept talking to himself like a crazy person, he was going to have to throw himself at the mercy of Coran with the hopes of a quick death. And fuck, he’d forgotten Blue’s food again...

Pidge didn’t want to wake up, a fist coming flying as Lance shook her shoulder. Hunk had spent the whole night with his hand on his phone, but was accepting of it being time to wake up. Pidge was not

“Fuck off... I’m sleeping”

“I have coffee”

“Gimme the coffee, then fuck off”

Lance snorted, too tired for anything other than a quick huff out his nose

“You have to come to the kitchen for coffee. We have to drop Shiro and Keith off in town, remember?”

“Let’em walk”

“After everything you put me through, you don’t get to go back to sleep”

“My house, my rules, fucker”

“That’s Mister Fucker, especially seeing you’re in my guest bedroom. Hunk, help me out here?”

“Nope. You poked the Gremlin. Do I smell food?”

“I cooked. I channeled my inner Hunk and made us all breakfast. Eggs, bacon, full nine yards, and coffee”

Climbing out of bed, Hunk wrapped his arms around him

“Best friend ever. Dude, you’re like frozen”

“The latch broke on my window last night, tried crashing out on the couch but you know what it’s like when your brain won’t shut up”

Hunk groaned at him

“You should have come crawled into bed here, man”

“I thought about it, but that seemed like effort. Didn’t wanna wake you up”

“You’re frozen. Go take a hot shower, I’ll make sure we save you breakfast”

“No, I’ll take a shower once we’ve dropped Shiro and Keith back in town. I’m dreading the state of my room, have to get my glasses out, but I’m scared it’s going to be a total mess”

“That’s rough, man. Still, you probably should get out of your pyjamas before giving us a ride home”

“I’ll have you know there’s no shame in wearing pyjamas shopping. I think they’re quite manly”

“Lance, bud, light of life and best bud a man could ask for, you can’t wear your pyjamas”

Lance had no issue with wearing his pyjamas in public. Somewhere along the line he was pretty sure there was a good six month period in his life where he’d worn nothing but his pyjamas. He loved the deep blue satin with gold trim and a little lion up on his breast pocket. Plus he had the matching robe and slippers. He loved them so much he had three more pairs in blue, one in red which looked horrible against his skin tone, and another set in black on the off chance something happened to the other four pairs.

“But they’re comfy”

“And you have to pretend to be an adult”

Lance blew a raspberry, pushing Hunk away

“Adulting is overrated. Back in my day you weren’t an adult unless you had two cars under your name”

“Dude, you have a car and a mortgage. What else would you call that?”

“An oversized kid with a commitment issue?”

Hunk face palmed, taking a long breath, he released it slowly

“Please, for me, will you at least change into something warmer?”

Dammit. Hunk knew he was weak to his bestie asking for a favour

“Fine. But know I do so under protest”

“Noted. Are Keith and Shiro already awake?”

“Yep, already in the kitchen”

Hunk scrambled to straighten up his bed, for no obvious reason Lance could hear how fast Hunk’s heart was racing. What did he have to be so worried about?

“Dude! Why didn’t you tell me? They better not have eaten everything”

Food? He’d cooked enough food to cook a small army

“I’d be surprised if they had”

“I don’t know, man. Oh my god, what if they have allergies?”

“Then I’ll have two dead bodies and all my karma would have gone up in flames. Relax, there’s a spread, I’m sure they’ll find something edible down there”

“I better go make sure...”

“Hunk, you’re making me sad. I promise I haven’t intentionally poisoned anyone in the last fifty years”

“There’s always that chance... So many people have allergies these days”

“And so many people now understand allergies better. Come on, man. They’re adults. Probably have two cars each and everything. Have some faith, man”

Lance’s words meant nothing, Hunk was off worrying himself sick over two grown men. He wouldn’t be Hunk if he wasn’t, but he didn’t have to attempt to take care of everyone they met... no matter how much of a teddy bear, people pleasing, free lover, he was.

*

Lance’s room had been torn apart by the storm. His window now broken, to match the broken latch. His bed was soaked, his floor was soaked, a stray branch had found its way onto his bed, and his damn glasses were cracked. The worst part was his blue slippers getting damp as he cross his room, stepping from “dry patch” to “dry patch”. More like “less wet patch” to “less wet patch”. Fucking storms, and fucking karma. He’d tried to be nice... he’d faked it as nicely as he could, that had to earn him brownie points. Now he’d be scrubbing the floors with vinegar to kill anything even remotely mould like that had the idea it was going set up residency in his house. They never warned you of the less fun things that came with being a homeowner. Had he know how much things would cost, he would have been campaigning for his mother start saving while he was still just an egg. Bring rural, someone had to come up from Platt. There was travel time, replacement time, having a stranger in his house, then there was the cleanup from their dirty boots.

Changing reluctantly into casual jeans, Lance piled on his thickest of jackets, with a scarf and beanie. Hunk had been suspicious of how cold he’d been, and with the weather still dreary, he needed to look the part, including forcing his feet into boots he hadn’t worn for at least two years. He hoped he’d looked okay, seeing he didn’t have an intact mirror to check. Lance also double checking he didn’t have any underwear hanging out his jeans, because he’d done that before today. Going to fuel up, he’d gone to double check his pockets for his wallet only to find a pair of black boxer briefs hanging from the back of his jeans. Thankfully no one had noticed as quickly stuffed them in his jacket pocket, before avoiding any and all eye contact when he’d gone in to pay. He most certainly wasn’t worried about his appearance due to the two handsome strangers in his kitchen... Nope. Not at all.

Heading down, Lance tripped on the stairs, then bumped into the banister. Every morning his eyes seemed to need an adjustment period thanks to his damn cracked glasses. They were only a cheap pair, but that wasn’t the point, it was something else he needed to replace on top of everything else going on. Back in the day he’d made some very dubious choices over his frames, thanks to the hipster rival he was now having the chance to rock the same shades as a much cooler person in a less judgmental time. Making his way down to the kitchen, Lance could hear Pidge prattling on about the paranormal, Hunk must have poured into a chair then poured coffee down her throat to keep her calm. She was honestly as bad as a starving vampire, Lance wouldn’t say he famished, but he would say his daily routine was out of whack. He would have been into his first blood pack by now, yet thanks to his guests and the lack of power the fridge needed to remain cold since he didn’t have a backup power system for the fridge alone.

Feigning casualness, Lance wandered into his kitchen, happy to see everyone except Keith was either. If Keith didn’t want to eat, then he could go goddamn hungry for all Lance cared

“Whoa, man. What’s with the glasses?”

Trust Hunk to notice right off the bat

“You know how I told you the latch snapped in the storm, the whole window ended up shattering. Room’s a mess, and I need to call a glassier out from Platt”

Trudging to his seat, he couldn’t take it thanks to Sir Mopesalot, his routine thrown off yet again as he was to sit between Pidge and Keith

“That’s rough man, covered by insurance?”

“Yeah, but I’d rather get a private quote too. If it’s less than $500 then it’s easier not to pay the excess”

“Ah, good thinking. What do you want for breakfast?”

There wasn’t that much left. Evidently he’d miscalculated everyone’s hunger levels

“I’ll finish off the potato fritters. Everyone okay with that?”

No one said no, so Lance helped himself to the last two. He was an excellent cook, if he did say so himself.

“So, Shiro. What’ll you do when your car’s fixed?

Shiro washed down the last of his fried egg with a large gulp of coffee, before leaning his elbows on the table as he nursed the mug with both hands

“Head back up to Platt. This was only going to be a day trip”

“Yeah, I suppose that’s true. Lance is always telling me I ask too many questions”

Lance brought his hand up, ruffling Pidge’s hair

“That’s because you do. I’m sure Shiro is anxious enough over his car as it is”

“He was talking just fine until you showed up. Plus, you forgot to feed Blue. My poor baby was screaming her head off for her food”

“Ah, fuuu-... Thanks, Pidge. I remembered before, but forgot again”

“I did it for Blue, not for you”

“I know. Her and her toe beans appreciate it”

“Glad to know someone appreciates me”

Lance gave a shake of his head

“I always appreciate you, and you know it. Like I appreciate the way you’re going to rinse the dishes for me after you’ve had your second cup of coffee. You’re still in your “Gremlin Mode””

“If you’d just brought the coffee up, I wouldn’t have to be”

“And if you just went to bed at a normal hour, like a normal person, you wouldn’t be so sleepy and cranky. Maybe I should call your mum so she can put you down for a nap when you get home”

“And maybe I should hack back into your home security and set your speakers to play “Psycho” every time you get in the shower”

“You couldn’t pick something I could sing to, could you?”

Pidge kicked the back of his foot under the table, she was on fire this morning

“Watch it. I’m not above motivation speeches for when you’re on the toilet”

“I’m down for that”

“You’re so goddamn weird”

Shiro started laughing, his right hand coming off his coffee cup as he shook it to say “ignore him”. Taking a moment to compose himself, he smiled over the rim of the cup

“You three really get along well, don’t you?”

“Yep. No offence man, I don’t know your friends or anything, but I feel like I’ve got the two best friends in the world”

Lance felt a surge of pride over his friends. Had Shiro dared to challenge him, he’d be having some serious daydreams over what he could do to the man and where to dump the body when he was done. Not that he ever would, and not that he really let himself think that way too often. He was just way too overprotective of the ones he loved

“It’s nice. To have friends as close as family, I mean. Do you have family in the area?”

“He has a grandmother in Pla-“

Lance elbowed Pidge, the question directed at him given Shiro was looking at him

“Yeah. My grandmother lives in Platt. You know what that’s like, she always has all the goss about what’s up. I had wanted her to come live with me so I could take care of her, but she wouldn’t hear of it. Apparently I need to get out and live my own life, but that’s hard when most people suck”

Shiro nodded

“What would she say if she knew you picked up two strangers in the middle of a stormy night?”

“She’d say I did the right thing. She’s been my number one supporter through everything. I could be murdered and she’d still want to hound my ghost over if it was a good host or not. “Lance, did you remember to feed them”. “Lance, I hope you didn’t have your feet on the coffee table in front of them”. “Lance, did you use the good silverware and china?”. Lance, I hope you showed them where everything was”. We’ve got like this massive family, so things were always chaotic. Church every Sunday, family dinners, that kind of thing”

Lance was being nice, but blurting out his life was taking it to the next level. Shiro continued to nod and smile politely as Lance spoke

“Do you still attend church?”

“Sometimes, but I always make sure to go for Easter and Christmas. I light a candle every year for my pop who died. I believe in god, but I also believe in evolution. Maybe because I spent so many days at Sunday school, it’s rubbed off on me”

“That’s sounds nice”

Lance hummed

“Yeah. I like to take my grandmother too. Most of the family is catholic. The way I look at it, as long as your not a dick to me, I won’t be a dick to you, nothing else matters. People can believe in who or whatever they like, and that’s their own business”

“Lance, shut up. You’re doing the too many words”

Lance agreed with Pidge, from life he knew sometimes people talked far too much when they were nervous. Shiro left him nervous, but as not nervous as his little brother. Keith hadn’t eaten a thing, even the mug of coffee in his hands had hardly been touched. But he hadn’t really been babbling, had he? He had a tendency to do that when he was sleepy, so always tried to keep a set schedule and sleep routine

“And you’re doing the “not enough coffee in your caffeine system”, Pidgeon”

“I hate you, you know that?”

“Yep, as much as I hate you”

“Fuck... You don’t hate me”

“I love you, which means you love me”

Pidge mumbled about being tricked, flipping him off as she rose her coffee cup to her lips.

Shiro smiled at their antics, Lance wishing he didn’t look like such a loser with cracked glasses

“Well it’s lucky for us that you did. Breakfast was delicious”

“I’m glad you liked it. I can’t cook like Hunk, but my grandmother would have killed me if I didn’t pick up a thing or two cooking with her”

“You can let her know you did her proud. Is she...”

Is she what? Ooooh...

“Oh, she still alive. Yep, she’s in Platt and try to visit her when I can. Garrisons like the perfect distance away. I don’t have to live in the city, but I can visit when I want. I’m talking way too much. I must be boring you by now. We can head our when your done, and Keith’s finished with his coffee”

“Oh, um, yeah. Right. Keith, you better drink up”

After all the worry over the car, how could Shiro possibly forget? Oh god... what if he was one of those annoying types that were seriously bad at taking a hint? Sure, he’d let them stay one night, but that wasn’t happening again. This was his house and the sooner they left the better it was for everyone. Keith cast Shiro a sullen look as he finally sipped at his coffee, Pidge was bad in the morning, but Keith took it to a whole other nonfunctional level. Lance was definitely not going to miss him leaving in the slightest. Seriously, he’d cooked his arse off and the arsehole hadn’t eaten a single thing, even treating the coffee as if it were poisoned. What a douche.

[izzy-b-hands]

You Send Me: Chapter Two

A bad night that gets better, and a sign that maybe this tour will be special for more than just being Y/N’s first with Queen. 

My love to all who read/like/reblog!

The next day was a whirlwind. In part because you were fighting to be not behind on time anymore, and in part because...well. It was a tour with Queen. For it to not be a whirlwind would perhaps have been more unusual, as far as you knew. 

And this show was a rough one. Issues with the power, issues with instruments, and a crowd that, just as Freddie would get them hyped and standing, was immediately shouted at by security to simmer down. 

“Fuck!” 

The mic stand half flew in your direction, and you just managed to catch it as Freddie stomped backstage.

He stopped when he saw you, and for a moment his anger over the night seemed to pause. “Christ, did I nearly spear you with that?” 

“Good hand-eye coordination practice,” you replied, holding the mic stand half as if it were gold (and as far as you were concerned, it was.) “No harm, no foul.” 

“Sorry,” Freddie muttered, before dropping into the first chair he saw. “That would be a fitting end to the night. Running you off to hospital, because I accidentally stabbed you.” 

You hesitated. There wasn’t really anything good to say; the night was what it was, and there was no way to magically make it better. 

“Well, it was good dodging practice, in case I ever do anything to get myself fired.” 

Freddie had been glaring up at the ceiling tiles, but tilted his head back down to smirk at you as the rest of the band trickled into the room. “I like this one. He’s funny, the rest of you never are on nights like this.” 

“And why the fuck should we be?” Roger spat.

“Don’t,” Brian said sharply, and you winced as Roger whirled around.

Instead of shouting, he pouted, and sighed. “The rest of the shows will be better. They have to be.” 

“Who says that?” John asked and smiled, but the smile dropped along with the temperature in the room as the rest of the band glared in his direction. “Fuck’s sake. I was just joking.” 

“We’re all just tired,” Freddie sighed. “And frustrated. We should go before we tear this room to shreds.” 

“You were thinking of that?” Roger asked. “I thought I was the only one.” 

“No,” Brian responded as Freddie nodded. “Me as well. Would be satisfying to just...” 

“Lose it?” John finished the sentence with a raise of his brow. 

“That,” you said with a slight tremor in your voice. “Could be fun. But, and stay with me-” 

“What if we didn’t?” Freddie chuckled. “So you all don’t have to clean up after us? That’s a fair point. We’ll have to shake this off some other way.” 

“How?” Roger muttered as he changed, tossing his used clothes back into the suitcase they’d come from. 

“Let’s ask the American,” Freddie mused. “You know the place best. Where can we go to let off some steam?” 

“Uh,” you mumbled. “This is a big city, I’m sure I can find something. For now, maybe drinks and venting round the table together, I mean that’s what I do usually, well, I’m usually alone but I vent to myself and that’s helpful at times so maybe-” 

You stopped as you felt all of their eyes on you. 

“You willing to play Agony Aunt?” John asked.

“Me? I’d come with?” 

“Why ever not?” Freddie asked. “Your suggestion, you should come with. And you know just how bad the night was, seeing it from your side of things, so you can vent with us.” 

You hesitated. “The rest of the crew...” 

“Crystal!” Roger shouted into the hall.

“What?!” 

“Are you busy?” 

Crystal’s head popped around the doorway, and he gestured for you to bring him Freddie’s mic stand half. “No, just shutting down and cleaning up an entire fucking stage set, not busy at all. Do you need something, or is this one here incapable of helping you all?” 

“That’s what I mean,” Roger replied. “He’s gonna come listen to us bitch at the bar. Said it’ll be better anger management than tearing this room to bits and pieces. Think you can spare him?” 

Crystal looked at Roger, then at you, then back to Roger, his face a mix of confusion and frustration. “I don’t give a rat’s ass what you do with him, so long as you consider it him working and helping out.” 

“There,” Roger said with a grin. “They’ll be fine without you, you even have permission from one of the boss men. Come on, let’s go!” 

“I’m still changing!” John protested. 

Freddie hadn’t even started to change, still slumped in the chair, an arm tossed over his eyes. “John is still changing, and I will be. Eventually. Just relax, Rog.” 

Roger shook his head at you. “Musicians. Honestly.” 

Brian scoffed. “And what are you then?” 

“The man who didn’t take an hour to change out of his trousers,” Roger replied with a clap of his hands. “Come on, get moving! I need a drink.” 

It took another fifteen minutes and a lifetime worth of frustrated grumbling, but finally you all were out the door and on the way to the nearest bar. 

“God, fucking finally,” Roger muttered as the first round was brought to the table. “So, are you ready?” 

You nodded, though you weren’t really. You were used to friends venting to you, but this was essentially as if your bosses were using you as a temporary counselor. What should you say to certain complaints? What shouldn’t you say? Should you say anything at all, or just listen? 

“The fucking power,” John groaned. “How do you have a building that isn’t even that old, and you can’t keep the damn power on in it? I swear, the next venue that can’t keep the lights and electric on-” 

“You’ll promptly rewire their entire place?” Freddie interrupted with a smile. 

“I just might,” John sniffed. “I could.” 

“I don’t doubt that,” Freddie said. “And the security! What was their problem? I mean it, does America have something against people enjoying music?” 

It took you a moment to realize the question was directed at you. “Ah. No. I mean, not exactly. But I think they worry about the crowd getting out of hand more than anything else. That’s what security at my old venue always told me, at least. Said it could be dangerous to the band.” 

“They’re mostly kids though,” Brian said. “And even the older ones I mean...so what? A bunch of people our age, how much damage are they going to do?” 

“Crowds can, when they want to,” you admitted. “There was the night a chandelier fell, one of the last nights I worked the old venue...” 

In an instant, all eyes were on you. 

“Did it fall on anyone?” Roger asked. 

“No,” you replied, sipping politely at the beer you weren’t exactly thrilled with the taste of, but were grateful for nonetheless. “They just kept climbing up to it and yanking on it, any way they could, in their excitement and want to get ‘wild’ I guess, and not five minutes after the last patron was out of the auditorium area, down it went!” 

“What a shame,” Freddie murmured. “Was it insured? I’m sure it must have been, if the venue was an older one.” 

You winced. “It was. But that policy lapsed in 1946, and our boss never re-upped it.” 

They shared your wince at that. 

“I bet I can guess who got to clean it,” Brian smiled. 

“I bet you can,” you replied. “I still have a scar to show for it, actually.” 

They leaned in as you showed off a white and not yet fading scar on your wrist. “I slipped, on my knees picking up some of the glass that had been on it. Didn’t even feel it though until I my boss came in and gave me hell about the blood on the floor.” 

“Christ,” John murmured. “He helped you clean then?” 

You chuckled. “No. He told me to finish up, and then he brought me a first aid kit, a mop, some water, and a brush for the floor so I could clean the blood!” 

“Better that you’re with us now,” Freddie said. “We won’t put you on lone chandelier clean up, or let you bleed out on a floor.” 

“Among other benefits, like this round that is on me,” Roger said as a new round was brought to the table. 

“Oh no, I can-” 

But your protests were quashed each time, with varying defenses from ‘But it’s my turn to pay anyway, Y/N,’ to ‘We pay you so it would be like you paying us to drink if you pay for these. We’ve got it.’

You didn’t mean to drink so much, and you didn’t think the band meant to either, but it was a good thing you were all able to prop each other up as you made it to the hotel. 

“Careful!” Freddie cried as you stopped first at John’s room, helping Freddie to drop him on the bed. “He’s fragile.” 

“How so?” 

“He’s the youngest,” Freddie explained. “His mum worries about him, on tour, you know. It’s all very sweet.” 

“I’m sure your mum worries about you being on tour as well,” you replied, struggling not to slur your way through the sentence. 

He waved away your words as he led you back into the hall, to retrieve Roger and Brian from where you’d leaned them against the hall wall. 

Roger managed to get into his room on his own, giving you a monster of a hug before he did. “You’re a smart man, d’you know that? That was much better than breaking shit backstage.” 

Freddie helped free you from Roger’s grasp with a giggle, before waving him off to bed. “It was a good suggestion. Only thing we had to pay for was drinks, not damages!” 

“Not sure it was any cheaper,” Brian frowned.

“That’s John’s worry, and he’s sleeping,” Freddie protested. “We’ll worry about it later.” 

“I did try to pay for some,” you noted. 

They both shushed you as you all made it to Brian’s room, helping him slouch inside and find a glass of water before wishing him a good night. 

“Where is your room again?” Freddie muttered, looking down the hall as if it might magically appear. 

“I think it’s my turn to sleep in the van tonight,” you replied. To save on costs, each crew member took a turn either sharing a hotel room with other crew members, or would sleep in the van to make it one less room to have to rent. 

“No!” Freddie scoffed. “Absolutely not, it is freezing out!” 

“It’s August,” you giggled. “It can’t be freezing in August.” 

Freddie half led, half dragged you down the hall, then up the staircase to his room. “Well, it is freezing in here, I know that much. So you can’t sleep in the van, you’ll be too cold.” 

“That doesn’t track though,” you protested weakly with a laugh. 

“Would you really rather be in the van?” Freddie asked, and there were the deep brown eyes again, locked on yours. Not as intense this time, a bit tired, probably in part from the alcohol and from the overall exhaustion of the night, but just as captivating nonetheless. 

You shook your head, and let Freddie lead you into the room. 

“Take the other bed, if you want,” Freddie said before flopping face down on the other. “No idea why they got me a room with two. Maybe it was the only one left. Worked out though, I suppose.” 

You sat on the other bed, and giggled as you watched him roll back over. 

“What? Do I look that daft right now?” 

“You look cute,” you said, before you could halt your tongue. 

Before Freddie could reply, you continued. “That was out of line, I’m sorry, maybe it’s because I’m drunk, I haven’t gotten drunk in ages, but that’s no excuse, but you are really cute, and pretty? Your eyes are gorgeous, has anyone ever said? Well, surely they have, and that’s even more out of line, and-” 

Freddie struggled to his feet, only to stumble over and sit heavily beside you on the other bed. 

“Can I ask you something? And you have to answer me honestly, and I think you will, because I think you’d tell me anything honestly right now,” Freddie said. “Are you saying all that just because...” 

His gaze dropped to the floor, and you knew what he had been going to say. Because he was famous. Because he was who he was, the Freddie Mercury. A voice gifted from the gods, and performances that electrified anyone who saw them. 

“No,” you replied. “I’d say that no matter what. Because you aren’t...” 

It was hard to put into words, especially in your current state, but you tried. “I mean. You’re you, you know?” 

Freddie nodded, and you were so glad he was just as drunk so your drunken rambling made some sense.

“But...there’s a difference. Between Freddie Mercury on stage, and Freddie greeting fans, and then Freddie here, who drinks with me and keeps me company when Crystal tricks me into stupid shit,” you continued. “And I like them all. I’ve always liked the Freddie on stage of course, who wouldn’t? And you’re incredibly kind to every fan I’ve ever seen you meet.” 

You took a deep breath as one of his hands moved to yours, his long fingers moving yours to intertwine with his. “But I like this Freddie the best, I’m finding. You’re funny, and kind, and sweet to me. And I like talking to you, a lot.” 

Freddie’s eyes met yours again, much more focused than they had been in the hall. 

The kiss was soft as his lips, and his other hand moved to gently hold your face, the thumb brushing over your cheek. 

“Does that mean we get to talk more after this?” you asked after he had moved back away, your eyes still closed as they had been for the kiss. 

They burst open as he broke into laughter, his other hand still in yours. “Is that what you’d like it to mean?” 

You nodded. “Maybe more?” 

He nodded, but hesitantly. “This isn’t like-” 

“I know,” you said, and his brow raised. 

“Not because I’ve dated a rock star before,” you clarified. “But where I’m from...boys don’t...you don’t do this, what we just did, in public much. Not every one accepts, not many at all, so to be safe, you keep it quiet. Just for you and him and anyone who you feel safe to tell.” 

He smiled. “You have no idea how nice it is not to have to worry about that. Or then again, maybe you do.” 

You let your head slump against his shoulder, and nodded. “This isn’t going to end tomorrow, will it? It isn’t just because we’re drunk? Because I mean it, every word.” 

He pulled you close and sighed happily. “No. Not ending tomorrow. It isn’t happening just because we’re drunk. I promise.” 

You hoped desperately that it was really true. It wasn’t that you wanted to doubt him, it was just that in your experience, the doubt was often necessary and correct, and in the morning there was no boy to speak of or to, already gone with the sunrise. 

“We need to sleep this off,” Freddie mumbled. “What time is it?” 

“Early,” you said, looking at the clock on the wall that read 4 A.M. “Or late, depending on how you look at it.” 

Freddie snickered as he pushed you gently back onto the bed and flopped down beside you. “Maybe both.” 

“Both,” you agreed, and wrapped an arm around him, to match the arm he had already wrapped around you, pulling you close. 

“Morning is going to hurt,” Freddie muttered before his eyes fluttered shut. 

[saltnhalo]

I can finally post my zine fic for volume 1 of @profoundzine!

Once upon a time, there was a man named…

It was a dark and stormy night in Lawrence, Kansas…

This is a story all about how my life got flipped…

“Whatever story you’re writing, you can’t begin it by ripping off ‘The Fresh Prince of Bel Air,’ Dean.”

Dean runs his fingers through his hair and groans, then selects the only ten words on his laptop screen and deletes them all. Back to zero, once again. “I know,” he mutters, glaring at the blank document. “I’m just… stuck.”

Castiel peers over his shoulder, reads the title of the document—‘some bullshit i guess’—then slides into the empty seat next to him. “What are you writing?”

It’s an innocent enough question, but… one that Dean doesn’t think he has the answer to just yet. He drops his head into his hands and stares down at the table, at the patterns of the grains in the wood. “I don’t really know,” he mumbles quietly. “Something, I guess. I just…”

He sighs, then lifts his head out of his hands and looks over at Cas. “We’ve lived such a fuckin’ crazy life, you know? And I figured that it’d be a shame if it never got written down. If it died with us. So I… I guess I figured I’d try putting it into words.”

He’s been through so damn much, with his dad and Sammy, and then with Cas as a new part of their broken little family after he’d pulled Dean out of hell. Now so much of it feels like it happened such a long time ago—hell, not that he’ll readily admit it to anyone but Cas, but Dean’s definitely starting to get some grey hairs. Some part of him feels compelled to write down at least part of their story, considering how much they’ve seen and experienced and lived through. It would be a crime not to.

Castiel’s gaze softens, the corners of his eyes crinkling and his mouth pulling up into a gentle smile. “That sounds like a wonderful idea,” he says, and then his smile turns cheeky. “I hope it stars a devastatingly handsome ex-angel and highlights just how in love with him you were from the first time you met.”

Dean can’t help but snort, turning his gaze back to the laptop and the empty document. He runs his fingertips idly over the keys on his keyboard. “Not gonna lie, babe, you were kind of a fucking dick for a while there.”

Lightbulbs shattering. Barn doors blowing open. A man who brings with him the shadow of two great wings and an electricity in the air that feels as though it sets Dean alight.

“I know,” Cas muses. “Dicks with wings, didn’t you call us?”

“I sure did.” He gives Cas a sidelong smile. “You weren’t the worst of them, but it took you a while to come around to us. You must’ve rebelled for a damn good reason, huh?”

“I’m hunted, I rebelled, and I did it, all of it, for you.”

Castiel rolls his eyes at Dean’s shiteating grin and seems to ponder it for a moment. “You know, I can’t seem to recall.”

“You’re a jerk,” Dean huffs. He turns away from his laptop to glare at Cas. “Remind me why I put up with you?”

“I’m great in bed,” Cas quips, without even taking time to think.

Damn it, Dean’s taught him too well over the years. He can’t keep the grin of amusement off his face, and Cas matches it, clearly proud of himself for managing to cheer Dean up. It’s so fucking endearing that for a second, Dean forgets his frustrations.

Only for a second, though. “This fucking sucks,” he groans, leaning back in his chair. “No one told me writing would be this hard. Everything’s up there in my brain but I don’t know how the fuck to get it out of there.” An idea occurs to him, and he raises his eyebrows at Castiel. “If you had any grace, would you mojo it all onto the page for me? Please?”

From the unimpressed look Cas gives him, that’s not an option.

“Okay,” he mutters under his breath, “so that’s a no, even if you were still powered up. Coming through loud and clear.”

Dean turns his gaze back to the empty document and watches the cursor blink at him—on, off, on, off. Like it’s mocking him for his failure to even start this fucking miserable story.

When you’ve had a life like Dean’s, where the hell do you start?

“This was a dumb idea.” He groans and plants his feet on the floor, shoving his chair back a foot and away from the laptop, the blinking cursor, the whole stupid idea he’d had of writing all this shit down. “I can’t fuckin’ do this. I’m not the smart one, that’s Sam’s job. He’d probably be halfway through writing this fucking thing already, but I can’t even get started.”

He moves to stand, but then there’s a hand resting on his thigh, strong but not forceful. Dean could push past it if he wanted to, but instead, he sinks back down into his chair.

He’s in the bathroom of a shitty motel when Cas appears out of nowhere, standing behind Dean’s shoulder and meeting his gaze in the water-stained mirror like a ghost—except for the fact that Dean knows just how solid and real the angel is. When he turns, he can feel heat and electricity radiating from Castiel. This close, all it would take was for one of them to lean in just a few inches, and Dean’s gaze flicks down to Castiel’s lips.

“Cas. We’ve talked about this. Personal space.”

“You’re not stupid, Dean.” Castiel’s voice is low but insistent. His hand radiates warmth through the fabric of Dean’s jeans. “We’ve talked about this. Just because you’re not ‘book smart’ like Sam—which isn’t even true, by the way—doesn’t mean you’re not smart in other ways. How many gadgets have you designed for the hunter community?”

Sometimes Dean regrets introducing Cas to pop culture, and it looks like showing him all of the James Bond movies is coming back to bite him now. “A few,” he mutters, shrugging one shoulder. The grip on his thigh tightens just slightly, and when Dean looks up, Cas has his brow arched in a look that Dean has quickly come to obey. “A lot,” he amends.

Cas smiles, and rubs his hand over Dean’s thigh in a reassuring gesture. “Yes, a lot. You are incredibly smart, in your own way—which doesn’t make your smarts any less important than those of anyone else,” he adds, before Dean can protest.

(Which he totally was about to. Fuck, Cas knows him too well.)

He grumbles irritably, then says, “I guess. But that doesn’t mean I’m any good at writing books and shit.”

“It doesn’t have to be any good on the first try, Dean.” Cas’s expression is soft. Encouraging. “It just has to be there.”

He’s fucking right, of course. Dean sighs and makes a conscious effort to let go of all his tension and frustration—something that he hadn’t learned easily but that he’s slowly getting better at, now that he’s retired from hunting and has Cas by his side. He rubs at his eyes, then drops his hands into his laps and gives Cas a slow, small smile. “I guess you’re right,” he says quietly.

Water laps gently at the edge of the dock. Cas is standing by Dean’s chair, the two of them looking out over the lake. There’s no need to share words between them—the silence is more than enough.

Dean is peaceful, and he is content.

The corner of Cas’s mouth ticks up, and Dean knows that that’s as close as Cas will come to saying ‘I told you so’—at least, for now. Whether he gets shit for it further down the line remains to be seen. “So you’ll keep trying to write whatever it is you’re writing?” Castiel asks, reaching for one of Dean’s hands where it lies in his lap and intertwining their fingers.

Now that Dean’s getting older, the impulse to write down the important parts of his life has been sticking with him and not letting go. He knows that if he doesn’t do this, if he gives up right here at the first fucking hurdle, he’s going to regret it.

“Yeah,” he says, squeezing Cas’s hand. “I will.”

Cas grins, all joy and radiance, and leans over to press a kiss to Dean’s cheek. “Good,” he says decisively, then kisses Dean’s knuckles as well before letting go of his hand. “Whatever you’re trying to say with this story, let it come from your heart.”

Dean watches as Cas stands up from his chair and goes to leave. When Cas pauses in the doorway and looks back at Dean, eyes crinkled in amusement, Dean raises his eyebrows.

“Besides,” his husband says, “if it really is terrible, I’ll make sure I let you know so you can rewrite it.”

Dean flips him off, but can’t help but grin when it makes Cas laugh. He listens to it as Castiel walks away through their house, then turns back to his laptop, thinking not for the first, or the second, or even the hundredth time in his life, about how fucking grateful he is to have Cas.

“I was there, where were you?”

“Dean and I do share a more profound bond.”

“We need you. I need you.”

“It’s a gift. You keep those.”

“…I love you.”

When he thinks of the last twenty years, he knows there was much more to the story than just him and Cas, but…

It’s hard not to focus on the slow path to love they’ve taken over all these years when he has his husband sitting beside him.

After all, their story definitely had to be one of the greatest love stories ever told—if he does say so himself. And even if the words that he writes never see the light of day, he wants to have them here, so that he can still relive them when he’s old and grey and has his husband by his side. When he really thinks about it… there’s so much to say that he can’t let a stupid little thing like a beginning stop him.

He puts his hands to his keyboard and writes.

Hi there. My name is Dean Winchester, and this is the story of how I fell in love with an angel.