#favorite part: when both of them jump backward a little but then immediately scoot back over closer to each other at that last gif.

[aprilblossomgirl]

The thing is, Yak and I– We made a short-term agreement. A very short one. It’s so short that I shouldn’t develop strong feelings toward him.

Wandee Goodday (2024) Episode Five | Dir. Golf Tanwarin Sukkhapisit

[krisdreaming]

A/N: This is for @briswriting​, because I saw you’ve been having a tough time lately, and I’m hoping this can help cheer you up a bit. i’m here if you need anything at all ❤️ 

It was previously requested by an anon, as well. I’m jumping on the streamer!Kenma bandwagon, and it’s also a college AU. This takes place over the course of one week.

Here’s the 4+1 masterlist

Four times Kenma thinks he loves you, and the one time he finally says it out loud

i | Saturday

Kenma shifts the grocery bags to one hand so that he can put his key in the lock. To his surprise, the door is already unlocked. He frowns. He’s sure he can remember locking it when he left that morning. A little wary, he swings the door open slowly, and the moment he steps inside, he freezes. You jump to your feet from your spot at his little kitchen table, a smile blossoming across your face. He drops the grocery bags to the floor in the moment before you hurl yourself at him, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck.

He staggers backwards slightly until he can adjust to your weight. “You’re here,” He breathes against your neck in disbelief. He loops his arms around your middle, holding on tight because he can’t shake the feeling that if he lets go, you might disappear. “You were only supposed to get here tomorrow.”

“I know,” You pull back slightly, just enough to allow him to drink in your face. “I decided to leave school early. I couldn’t wait any longer.” You scrunch your nose, probably laughing to yourself at the expression that must be on his face. “Kuroo let me in,” You add, which answers the next question he’d been going to ask.

“I missed you,” You say then, softer, backing away but still with the fabric of his hoodie pinched between your fingers.

“I missed you, too.” He looks at you standing in his kitchen, bouncing slightly on your heels, grinning at him like he’s Christmas morning, and it crashes over him that quickly.

I love you. It’s three little words, only eight letters, but somehow they’re taking up all the space in his chest. He smiles back at you, and instead of saying a word, he cups the back of your neck and presses his lips to yours.

ii | Monday

"Are you ready?” Kenma glances at you, one side of his headphones cocked slightly off his ear so he can hear your response. You look up from your switch and smile at him, a little uncertain. The faint Animal Crossing background music coming from it is just slightly out of sync with his own.

“Um, yeah. I think so. Are you sure you want me to be in your stream?” You’re seated just at the edge of the camera view, half in and half out. 

“Yeah,” He says, nodding, reaching out to brush a stray strand of hair away from your face. “You’re gonna have to scoot over a little bit if you want to be on the screen.” You comply, your arm brushing his. Both of your faces are completely in view now, and he shoots the you on-screen a small smile. “The chat is probably going to be a little crazy,” He warns, making a few last-minute adjustments before going live, mouse hovering over the button. “You’re at the airport?” He confirms with you one last time, and you nod. No sooner than the feed goes live, chat messages begin to pour in. He’s used to it, and even Kenma can barely skim over them fast enough.

“Hey, guys.” He greets, “Welcome to the Monday night stream. I have a special guest tonight.” He glances over at you then, and he watches as you drag your eyes from the scrolling chat messages to the camera and offer it a smile and a small wave. Something squeezes in his chest. “This is Y/N.”

“omg, this is so cute!” “I didn’t know Kenma was dating anyone.” “you guys are dating, right?” “did you see the look on his face???” “is anyone else seeing all those little glances he keeps stealing??” The messages keep flooding in as you play. You’re a little stiff at first, but it isn’t long before you begin to loosen up and start talking and laughing naturally. 

You’ve played countless hours of Animal Crossing together. It had been one of your favorite things to do while you were apart. Even so, nothing quite compares to playing with you right beside him, seeing your reactions first hand and hearing you get excited and laugh. The viewers seem to be eating it up, and he keeps seeing snatches of messages in the chat about “chemistry” and “love” and how happy he looks. 

They’re right about that. In this moment, he’s beyond happy. When you pause to smile at him, he thinks he loves you so much that his heart might burst.

iii | Tuesday

Waking up next to you has to be one of Kenma’s favorite things. He can tell it’s pretty late by the way the sun is streaming in through the window, but you’re still sound asleep, with your cheek pillowed on your hand and your lips just slightly parted. 

He can’t blame you for being tired. The stream had lasted longer than usual the night before, and it had been well past midnight by the time the two of you had gotten ready for bed and finally snuggled up together to fall asleep. He thinks it must have taken you a while to fall asleep, too, because you’d been chattering to him about how much fun you’d had and bringing up different moments from the stream, too hyped up to be tired. It had been that way for his first few streams, too.

He can’t help but smile at the memory, looking at you sleeping so peacefully now. This sort of thing, something as simple as waking up in the same bed as you every day, is what Kenma wants. Someday soon, he knows you’ll get there. The long distance will be over and you’ll be together.

As if you can sense him thinking about you, you stir with a soft hum, eyes slowly blinking open and a smile sneaking across your face when you see him and remember where you are. “Morning,” He whispers softly, finally letting himself reach out and brush his fingertips across your cheek, tracing the features of your face like he’s memorizing it.

“Good morning,” You murmur back blearily. He leans in and presses the softest kiss to the tip of your nose, grinning at the way it scrunches up when he pulls away. I love you is hovering there again, right at the surface, but somehow he can’t quite get the words past his lips. He presses his lips to your skin, instead.

iv | Thursday

It’s all your idea. “We should go up to the roof,” You suggest, out of nowhere.

“Why?” He can’t mask his skepticism. “You won’t be able to see the stars, you know.”

You shrug. “Yeah, but we’ll be able to see the whole city from up there! I bet it’s beautiful - all the buildings and lights.” Suddenly, there’s a dreamy look on your face, and he thinks as he does sometimes that he wants to see the world the way you see it. That’s why he agrees, and you’re dragging blankets and mugs of cocoa up the flights of stairs.

“Ooh,” You breathe the moment you step out into the cool night air, walking to the edge and surveying the city all around you, the twinkling lights and the muted sounds of traffic below. “Isn’t it beautiful?” You look at him then, and in the semi-darkness the only thing illuminating your face is all those city lights. Yes, he thinks immediately, You are. And he isn’t quite sure where that came from.

“It is,” He says, wrapping the blanket around both of you because all the way up here, despite it being almost summer, there’s a definite chill in the air. You lean your head on his shoulder then, and he wraps his fingers around the warm mug in his hands. He rests his cheek on the top of your head, and you sit in silence for a while, just looking at the city stretched out all around you.

“I love being here with you,” You murmur suddenly, and he turns to look at you. You’re already looking at him, a soft smile on your face backlit by the city lights. “It just feels so right, you know?”

He hums in agreement. “I love having you here with me,” He says, and it’s so close, but so far, from what he really means to say.

v | Saturday

It’s bittersweet. The evening had been as close to perfect as it could be. You’d had dinner at one of the nicest restaurants he’d ever been to and walked around a nearby park afterwards, just talking and laughing and enjoying your last evening together. You’re leaving tomorrow, heading back to school, and he wishes there was a way to slow down time so that he could live in these last few moments forever.

Time is running out, he knows that. If he wants to say it to you in person, it’s going to have to be tonight. You’re already back at his apartment, and you’re in the bedroom changing out of your fancy clothes while he’s in the bathroom brushing his teeth. You come up beside him, then, in one of his old t-shirts with your hair soft around your face, and reach for your toothbrush.

“Our last night,” You say softly, wetting your toothbrush and reaching for the toothpaste. He hums, spitting out the toothpaste and rinsing his mouth before replying.

“Yeah. It went by so fast,” He puts his toothbrush back in the cup, and it’s silly, but he can’t help but think that it will look so lonely without yours next to it. His apartment will feel so empty without you in it.

“It always does,” You offer him a melancholy smile, and he reaches for your hand as you make your way back to the bedroom, lacing your fingers loosely together as he pulls you down to sit next to him on the bed.

“Before you know it, you’ll be moving in here with me,” He says, as much for his own benefit as yours. “Just a few more months, and you’ll be graduating. And then you’ll be in Tokyo with me.” He feels his lips curve upward at the thought. You’re smiling a little brighter, too.

“Hey Y/N,” He says then, holding your hand a little tighter, “I’m really glad you could be here with me this week. It was perfect, really. In every way. And I can’t wait until every week can be like this week. Because... I love you, Y/N.”

He watches as your eyes blow wide, and you’re smiling at him, something that can’t quite be contained so it spills out as a quick burst of laughter. “Kenma,” You throw your arms around his neck, and he immediately holds you close. “I love you, too,” You say, and the words are muffled into his t-shirt, “So, so much.” You pull back and he’s kissing you then, or maybe you were the one to kiss him, he’s not quite sure. All he knows is that he loves you, and that isn’t going to change anytime soon.

4+1 taglist (let me know if you want to be added!):

@luna-barnes14​, @herow1n​, @disgruntled-gay​

[yandere-sins]

heya, for the supernatural prompts, could I request Ghost Nagito with 23? tysm!

I went a bit alternate universe there, hope you enjoy it! Thank you for requesting :D

“It’s been centuries since I felt like this, I’m not letting you go that easily.”

»»————-———— ♡ ————————-««  

The old door to the mansion was as loud as you would expect from hinges as rusty as your grandparents. But after taking on such a long trip to reach the abandoned mansion, this was quite comforting, as the path from the bus stop to here had been eerily quiet already. “Wow,” you muttered, looking around the grand entrance. You could imagine what kind of people must have come by back in the days when this mansion was still in use.

Even though everything was covered in dust and plants that had broken through the windows, you still admired the great chandelier above you, and the grand piano standing in one corner of the room. Ruins, yet, memories of the greatness of the Komaeda family, who once reigned all the lands around this mansion, before the Great Despair took over the world.

By now, life was much easier again, world leaders settling their disputes, cities being rebuild. Only ruins like this one remained as a reminder of the time, and you were here to discover them. Traveling was a luxury, but you couldn’t help yourself from wanting to learn more about the history around you, curiosity always having been one of your vices. Thus, you came. A fateful decision.

You were careful as you entered through the first door, into what seemed to be the dining room. Wooden planks squeaked under your weight, but you still felt safe to continue. Excitedly, you took in the still decorated table, the huge, rotting paintings on the walls. Of course, you were not going to touch anything that looked moldy from all the years exposed to air and wetness, but looking wouldn’t hurt. It only spurred you on to see more, and so you went back into the main hall, and up the stairs, holding on to the handrail just in case a step was going to give away underneath you.

As you reached the top of the staircase, you immediately went stiff. Looking from side to side you tried to make out the sudden sound lingering in the air, something you hadn’t heard before. It wasn’t a creak, or even the singing of a bird, no. It sounded more tender, like a composed piece of music. Curiosity got the better of you, as you followed its sound, trying not to be audible yourself. The last thing you wanted was to meet some kind of vagabond and have him attack you.

Cautiously, you peeked through the gap in a door, seeing nothing and no one moving in the room as you decided to enter. The door was tough to open, old carpet stuck beneath it, so you only managed a gap big enough to squeeze through. Immediately, your eyes caught on the source of music, an old music box standing in the middle of the room, on top of what must have been a coffee table back in the days.

You approached it with great curiosity, opening the lid gently, a little afraid it might break if you handled it too roughly. It wasn’t very special, no ballerina pop-up came out, just the old gears turning to create the music, but you were still fascinated by it nonetheless.

Worse was the scare as a sudden loud bang behind you made you drop the box, and you twirled around to stare at the door, holding your breath. Despite you never open the door very wide, it shouldn’t have been able to fall close so harshly, considering it was still stuck from the carpet beneath it. You scrambled to put the fallen box back on the table, wanting nothing more than to leave. But when you tried to push the door open, it wouldn’t budge under your tries to make it move.

“Do you like it?” you heard, making you flinch so hard, you threw yourself with your back against the wood of the door. “W-Who...?” you asked, unable to make anyone out from turning your head from side to side. “Me,” the voice chuckled, and you squinted your eyes as you made out some fog building up behind the coffee table. It slowly formed itself into a shape, a ghostly hand brushing over the music box. As if prompted by the touch, it started playing again, and the fog kept wandering, settling down into a chair in the corner.

From the hand, an arm appeared, then a body. From its neck, a head rose and down to the knees, you made out a mostly human shape. Just... it stopped after the kneecaps, disappearing into nothingness. A thousand thoughts ran through your mind, as you tried to understand, but really, you had no idea what you were really seeing. It must have been a ghost, but did you even believe in those?

“It was my favorite. I’d always listen to it before going to bed when I was still a young boy.”

His eyes moved from the music box, still playing leisurely in its place, to you, and you felt the air grew colder around you. “How about you? Do you like it?”

Maybe you were going insane. Perhaps you hit your head or something, but nonetheless, you nodded, and he smiled happily. “A-Are you...?” you tried to ask, but there were too many questions to decide which one to go for first. “Hm? Oh, yeah.”

Standing up, you were able to witness the form in its full glory, though he probably wasn’t that much taller than you, especially not with his missing underlegs. When he patted his chest, a cloud of fog, or maybe simply dust, came from him, his hand briefly disappearing before reshaping and coming back into view. “I’m sorry to scare you, it just has been a while that someone came over to talk. I am Nagito,” he introduced himself, and you really believed it had been a while he met someone, considering his... condition.

“I’m [Name],” you replied sheepishly, taking some time to look around the room. Perhaps, jumping out of a window would be an option if you couldn’t find a way out. After all, you still weren’t sure what to make out of the ghost in front of you. “What brought you here?” he asked, his movements nothing less than gliding as he walked around the table.

“Oh, just... exploring. The- The family who lived here was quite influential in the times of the--”

“--Great Despair, ah, yes. What a time to be alive,” he finished your sentence, letting out a fond sigh as he remembered. You used the time to move along the windows, creating some distance between you two, while you also trying to figure out if one of them would open.

“So you... were there when it happened?”

“There? Oh, I was part of it!” he announced, and you halted, furrowing your brows. Lowering your hand from the last window handle, you looked him straight into his slightly milky eyes. “You were? So you are a Komaeda too?”

“Oh, definitely,” he laughed. “It was so much fun! I helped my family to understand the joy of it when Junko started her rise.”

This time, it was him taking a few glides back, settling down on the old bed, with sheets corroded by moths. He patted the space next to him, and you were hesitant to follow his invite, but at the same time, intrigued by the knowledge he must have. “I’ll gladly tell you about it if you want.”

Maybe you were just dreaming this all, but you wanted to know what he had to say, so you approached, sitting down furthest from him.

With a pleased hum, he started his tale. Hadn’t you researched so much about the Great Despair before, you would have been shocked by all the gruesome details he didn’t spare you. Nagito spoke fondly of the time that was nothing more than history to you now, but at the same time, the most awful tragedy in all of mankind's story. He shared new insights, stories that were lost in between the flames and war, things you would have never been able to research on your own. You soaked in the knowledge he had, time passing as you two were caught in conversation.

Only when you started to rub your eyes, did you avert your attention for a second, looking back to the windows, noticing how the sun was going down behind the tree crowns of the forest surrounding you. “[Name]?” he asked, confused by your sudden lack of attention. “Ah, sorry!” you were quick to apologize to him, and he forgave you with a smile. “It’s just...”

With another glance over your shoulders, you hesitantly got up, walking backwards to the door again. “It’s so late, I really should go.”

As you tried to open the door again, you found it as shut as it was before, even when you pushed with both hands it still didn’t budge. As if something was forcing it shut despite your best efforts. Panic rose as you realized your chances to leave slimmed down significantly, bad throughs sprouting in your mind. “Go where?” he asked innocently enough, for the first time standing right beside you, the fog feeling incredibly cold as it touched your hand.

“I was just getting to the good parts of the story...”

“I know!” you were quick to calm him as he seemed distraught by your sudden need to leave. “And I’ll be back, but I can’t miss the last bus!”

Again, you put all your strength into opening the door, jiggling the doorknob roughly in hopes it would loosen up. “What if I don’t want to let you go?” he mumbled next to you, and you peaked up at that, worried. Nagito surely was an enigma, less human than you wanted him to be. And his concerning state of life that you had worried about before now felt more prominent than ever.

“Talking to you... sharing a good laugh, oh, I missed that.”

“And you will have it again, I promise to be back, just trust me!” you were quick to retaliate, remembering there was one last window you hadn’t tried to open yet. Scooting over to it, you tried to ban the bad thoughts of having to jump out of the second floor, but it was better than to starve to death here, where no one would find you.

“Where are you going?” he called after you, following your every step. Needily, he tried to touch you, but every touch went right through your body, leaving only an icy sensation behind that made you more uncomfortable. “Listen... I just want to go home tonight. I loved your stories, but I am still human, I need to go and sleep... eat. You remember that, right?”

Leaning against the window, you were surprised he didn’t just slide through that too, but his gaze was none of understanding, frustrating you. Letting out a deep sigh, you calmed yourself, knowing anger wouldn’t get you anywhere. He was just lonely, a little desperate maybe. You came here of your own free will, it was only natural that he might expect you to help him with his... ghostly problem.

“Please,” you whispered, looking directly at him. “I swear on my life, I’ll be back and help you move on. I will listen to all the stories you have and we’ll find a way, okay?”

“Move on?” he mumbled, lost in thought for a second. “I don’t want to move on.”

By now, your knuckles were turning white as you held on tight to the window handle. If you had to jump out, it better had to be timed well, but you knew it was time to take action and not just stand around and argue with him. “Okay... you leave me no choice.” He raised an eyebrow when you suddenly moved to open the window, ready to throw yourself out and be gone in a matter of seconds.

But the window never opened.

Instead, you heard Nagito laugh. He increasingly got louder and more sickening as he kept on laughing to his heart’s content. “Despairingly, isn’t it?” he asked in between his chuckles, and the glare you shot him only amused him more. “I love this.” His hand brushed briefly over your cheek, immediately turning your skin cold with his touch before he waltzed back to the bed, patting the space next to him as an invitation to join him.

“It’s been centuries since I felt like this, I’m not letting you go that easily.”  

You knew he meant it. If you wanted any chances of ever leaving again, you would have to oblige, even though, deep down, you agreed. It really was a situation to despair over.

»»————-———— ♡ ————————-««  

Feel free to request from the Supernatural Prompts too!

[ramblings-of-a-cavill-lover]

The Stubborn Mr. Cavill

Summary: Things are interesting at the Cavill household when Henry decides he needs no help to do something special.

Warnings: Language.

Word count: 1.3k+

A/N: Thank you darling @maggotzombie​ for requesting this one. I hope you like it as much as I do.

My unending gratitude to @shellbilee​ for her guidance and for being an amazing editor. 💜

Divider by @writeyourmindaway

He bought exactly the one you had agreed upon.

It was actually the one he wanted, you were bribed to accept it, but you’d take Henry’s bribery anytime, anywhere and in every way.

He said it was only fitting, since your princess deserved a royal treatment.

The day it arrived and you saw it up close, you told him that it would be best to hire someone to assemble it.

Stubborn as he is, he waved you off, grunting as he picked it up to take it to her nursery.

You complained that he’d pull a muscle at best, or break his back, worst case scenario.

He just kept grunting all the way up the stairs and to her room. Not that you didn’t appreciate his grunting, but there was a right time and place for that symphony.

After about fifteen minutes - he told you he was reading the manual, but you knew he was catching his breath - he came downstairs again, passing by you and heading into the garage.

“Not a peep.” he said when he appeared again in the kitchen, holding a tool box and massaging his lower back with his hands.

“I didn’t say anything.” you replied, holding in your laughter, and only smiling sweetly at him.

He spent the entire afternoon in that room.

From time to time you’d hear a “Fucksake!”, or a “Damn it.”. Most of all, you heard fucks every few minutes, as you had gone upstairs to rest and catch up on your reading.

You poked your head into the nursery before going to your room, only to see the instruction manual in pieces on a corner.

“Did the instructions offend you honey?” you asked innocently.

“Don’t need them. I’ve got this.” he replied with a huff, as he looked at different sized bolts and nuts.

Since then, only more cursing came from the room.

At some point in the afternoon you were craving popcorn, and passing by the room, you saw that little progress had been made.

Shaking your head you made your way to the kitchen, and as your corn popped away in the microwave, you made him his favorite coffee.

Kal had made it his life’s work to make sure you were safe, keeping both eyes on you everywhere you went.

“Why does your father have to be so bloody stubborn?” you asked him. He only sneezed and looked back at you.

Juggling his steamy cup of coffee, yours, with mint and ginger tea, and the bowl of popcorn, you slowly made your way back upstairs, careful not to drop anything.

When you arrived in the room, you put your things on the dresser and caressed a distracted Henry on the head, making him jump.

“Bloody hell!” he mumbled when he saw it was you and what you were holding.

“Yes, it looks like it, indeed.” you mumbled, noticing that the part he had managed to assemble seemed to be backwards.

You refrained from commenting, when you saw the photo of the assembled crib on the screen of his phone. He’d figure it out eventually.

You fell asleep as you watched a movie, only waking up to the smell of what could only be meat being cooked.

Going downstairs as you caressed your distended belly, you entered the kitchen to see a very serious Henry, biting the inside corner of his mouth.

Turning his head your way, he opened a smile.

“Hey sleepy head, did you have a good nap?” he asked as you came closer.

Hugging you with one arm, he kept on stirring the minced meat with the other.

“Whatchu making?”

“Shepherd’s pie. I needed some comfort food.” he smiled.

“How’s the progress? Have you regretted not hiring someone to do the job yet?” you teased, with a mischievous smile.

“Nope. Don’t need anyone to do that for me. I’ve got it.” he answered, but it didn’t escape you that he didn’t mention his progress at all.

“Why don’t you call Charlie? I’m sure he could help you.” you suggested, picking a spoon and stealing a bit of the ragu.

“I can manage on my own, thank you very much. And stop stealing my meat!” he complained, shooing you away.

After a mostly silent dinner, you decided to have a bath, and while you relaxed in the bubbly water, you texted Charlie, telling him all that happened throughout the day.

Not five minutes after you two stopped texting, you heard Henry’s phone ringing and him exclaiming “Hey mate! How did you know I needed you?”.

You looked at Kal, lying on the foot of your tub and panting due to the heat in the bathroom, and winked at him.

You heard little more as Henry closed the door of the nursery.

When sleep started to make it harder for you to keep your eyes open, you went to the nursery, hearing metal noises and more grunting from the door.

“I’m going to bed babe.” you announced.

He opened the door enough to put his head out and gave you a smile and a kiss on your lips.

“I’ll be going soon.” he promised, and closed the door.

You shook your head and shrugged, going to bed and falling asleep almost immediately.

You didn’t know how long later, but your body stirred at the sound of the bedroom door opening bringing you away from the depths of blissful sleep. You felt the weight of his body dip the mattress, and he scooted as close to you as he could, caressing your belly and kissing the back of your head.

“What time is it?” you asked.

“Cuore mio, come with me.” he whispered, while rubbing your arm.

“Can’t this wait till morning?” you complained, but by the excitement emanating from him, he really wanted you to see it immediately.

“No.” he answered, going to your side of the bed, turning on your bedside lamp and helping you stand.

“This better be good, mister!” you croaked, still half awake.

He led you by the hand, with a painful looking grin on his face. When you got close to the nursery, his demeanor changed slightly.

“I hope you truly like it.” he said quietly, bashful, and opened the door to you.

“Oh my god! Henry!” you gasped, covering your mouth with one hand and touching your belly with the other.

“Do you hate it? I guess I can get a…” he started, but you covered his mouth with a finger.

“Please don’t. I love it!” you whispered, tears flooding your eyes. “Did you just finish it?”

He nodded.

“You did it. I’m so happy you managed on your own!” Tears were streaming down your cheeks, and turning you to face him, he kissed your forehead.

“I kinda had help.” he quietly confessed, leaning to touch his forehead to yours.

“Oh, did you call Charlie?” you asked, feigning ignorance.

“No, he called me to talk about work, and I decided to listen to you and ask him for help.”

You two turned to face the room, he enveloped you in his arms, running his hands up and down on your baby bump, while admiring the crib which he had already set up.

“I’m glad.” you replied, still emotional.

“So am I. I couldn’t have done it without his help.” he said, resting his chin on your shoulder. “I can’t wait for her to be here.”

You placed your hand over his as you felt her moving.

“Neither can I. I’m really looking forward to holding her in my arms, to caress her cheeks. Do you think she’ll have a lot of hair?” you wondered.

“I don’t think so. But she’ll be lovely, even if she takes after her mother.”

You batted at his hand playfully, making a face.

“I only hope she doesn’t take after you so much. Otherwise, we’ll have a handful.”

He bit your neck playfully, and you moaned.

“Let’s go to bed. I owe you for putting up with me today.” he said, straightening up and leading you by the hand back to your room.

[straw-of-the-hat]

This just in, the request/ask accidentally got deleted

I’m not surprised I managed to fuck it up, not gonna lie. This is a learning process for me, y’all. Sorry about that!

The League of Villains seemed dangerous, from the outside. Dabi had been pretty convinced he'd be dying within a week when he first joined. A part of him really hadn't cared about that fact, as sad as that was. However, his expectations proved to be extremely far off when compared to reality. The League was nothing more than a huge, dysfunctional household. It was easy to forget that villains were human too. Even now that he was in it and witnessing it, Dabi still had moments of complete and utter disbelief, during which he failed to process just what the actual fuck was going on.

-Spinner was part lizard, which was pretty obvious. The guy wasn't as threatening as he sometimes acted. He was actually fairly soft, if Dabi was going to be honest with himself. Though, no matter how human he happened to be, the point stood that the man was part reptile. And what did reptiles do? They shed. Of course none of them had seen it coming. Just because he was covered in scales didn't mean they'd expected him to molt. Dabi had almost spit out his vodka when Spinner walked in, looking disgruntled with bits of dead skin hanging off of him.

Shigaraki had been the most openly intrigued, if you can believe that. He obviously had little to no knowledge of reptiles, and thus had no idea what was actually happening. This led to him poking Spinner to try and learn more. Dabi could only watch as a huge chunk of Spinner's skin fell off, effectively startling their leader into jumping back. The man had stumbled backwards into Toga, who had panicked and sprayed him in the face with perfume.

That should've been the end of it, but Dabi happened to have a sensitive nose. That wasn't all that good considering his quirk kicked up a lot of smoke, but beggars couldn't be choosers. The perfume was ungodly. Some flowery bullshit that took all of two seconds to waft over and tickle his nostrils. Kurogiri saw the exact moment it happened, too. His glowing yellow eyes could only widen in mute horror as Dabi jolted forward in a sneeze.

Flammable. The perfume. It was flammable. And when Dabi sneezed... well, enough said.

-Twice wasn't the most composed out of all of them. Dabi just wanted to know how he'd managed to choke on a peanut without taking off his mask. He'd just been minding his own business when the man fell off his stool, limbs flailing wildly as a rasping wheeze left his throat. The scream Toga let out still rung in his ears to this very day as she dropped to her knees and started beating his back to try and get it out.

Magne was panicking as their comrade died on the dusty bar floor. Dabi and Spinner both dove for her before she could call and ambulance, because what kind of villain called the authorities? Well, Dabi happened to trip over Toga's foot on the way over, sending him pitching forward and slamming into them. It startled him enough that a wisp of fire escaped him. It wasn't much, but it was enough to catch the ratty area rug on fire.

Kurogiri wasn't present to warp the flames away, resulting in them all stumbling away from it as it grew. Toga was still trying to revive Twice, and Shigaraki had his headphones in and wasn't facing their direction. The High School Musical soundtrack was blaring from his general vicinity, but no one had the balls to mention it. They could only panic over the rising flames and wonder if this would be the end of yet another hideout.

Spinner had tried to snuff it out with a couch cushion, but said cushion had caught on fire almost immediately. Dabi hadn't even seen it flying his way until it was too late. It smacked him square in the face just as Kurogiri walked through the door with four pizza boxes in tow, seeming more chipper than usual. Yeah, that stopped the moment he saw the chaos. Dabi had never been put in time out, even as a child. But the glint in their resident Warp Gate's eyes? It was enough to make him go sit in the corner.

-Dabi had been coerced into going to a corner store with Toga at one point, which was one of the last places he wanted to be with a crazy little brat like that. He'd been forced to stop her from stabbing at least three people in the back, and continuously had to put things she put in the cart back on the shelves. His scars also made him all the more noticeable, which earned him a lot of stares and pitied looks. He was half tempted to let Toga kill the ones who had the gall to laugh and point.

-At a later date, he'd gone to larger grocery store with Magne. She was tolerable enough. There was something nearly motherly about her and her ways. He supposed she insisted on being called Big Sis Mag for a reason-- because that's exactly what she was. Her company wasn't enjoyable per say, but he didn't hate it. That was saying something considering how much Dabi tended to value his alone time. Together, they braved the beauty aisles in search of the ungodly amount of products the League had racked up collectively.

They'd both seen the chapstick at the exact same time, and knew what they had to do.

They'd chosen the couch to hide behind. They were holding Toga's favorite candy hostage, watching from a safe distance as the blonde brat scooted closer and closer to their absolute child of a leader. Even Kurogiri paused as Toga hesitantly held out the small tube that could very well be Shigaraki's saving grace. The red-eyed man actually had the decency to glance away from his game to look at what he was being offered, his brows raising soon after.

"Why are you giving me a glue-stick?" He'd grumbled. Dabi had heard that. With his own ears. Toga had turned to them with a look of sheer horror plastered across her face, and Dabi was sure his own face mirrored it. Magne looked like she'd just received a slap upside the head, her eyes wide as Toga looked down at the chapstick resting innocently in the palm of her hand.

"He doesn't know what chapstick is." She'd whispered. Thinking back on it, Dabi still had no words.

So no, the League wasn't what he'd expected in the least, but he supposed that was a good thing.

[sad-sweet-cowboah]

As Sweet As Sugar

Summary: You’re spending some time cleaning the house as Arthur goes out to get some fresh air, but he returns a little sooner than expected.

Warnings: Smut, and cursing

For once, you were alone in your house.

Since Arthur’s diagnosis, he asked you to allow him out more. He used that word, “allowed”, as if he were a prisoner. You knew that’s not what he meant; he was the furthest thing. He asked out of respect, acknowledging the rule you’d set weeks ago. However, you also knew the man loved to be out in the wilderness. Your anxiety of him somehow landing into trouble was long since gone, so you saw no harm in it. Maybe breathing in the fresh air would help. And despite receiving antibiotics, the news of his diagnosis wasn’t something to be taken lightly.

He still smiled when he greeted you as you returned from work, still laughed when you gave him new memes to discover, still seemed cheerful. You weren’t sure if it was genuine or if he was faking it. Either way, it seemed convincing. He was more hesitant to show affection, though, his lips only briefly brushing against yours instead of the full kiss you usually shared. His hugs were short, and he did his best to keep on his side of the bed. You understood why, but after everything you’d done together, it was unlikely that you’d become infected too.

You supposed to fresh air would do him good, and you wondered what he was up to at this moment. Perhaps he was resting at the trunk of a tree, jotting his thoughts down in his journal, thoughts he was reluctant to share with you. It’d been a little over a month since he’d magically appeared in your home now, and that man still puzzled you.

Admittedly, it was nice to have him away for a bit. Yeah, you loved having him around; the best company you’ve had in a while. However you almost forgot what “you” time meant, just to enjoy the peace. You took the time to clean your house, god knows you’ve neglected the task since Arthur showed up.

You’d been at it for a couple of hours now, starting with the living room and moving outward. You’d just finished up the bathroom and moved to your bedroom, the most daunting task of all. Random clothes from the both of you littered the floor, your nightstand and dresser had a fine layer of dust as well as random cups and plates. Your bed was left unkempt, which needed a wash anyway.

Before you began to work, you reached into your pocket to fish out your phone. Earbuds in, you’d been listening to music the entire time. You switched to a new song and dove in.

The laundry had come first, separating the clothes into color coordinated piles. You carried the first set out to bed washed, and then returned with some cleaning supplies to tackle the dust.

As you began to wipe down the wood of your dresser, a new song came on. It was a favorite of yours, something you always had to sing along to whenever it came on.

So tight, so fly…

You hummed along, swinging your hand to the rhythm as particles floated into the air.

You got me lifted, you got me lifted…

As the chorus started, you began to sing along, swaying your hips as you moved along your dresser.

Got me lifted, shifted, higher than the ceiling.

You moved some things around to reach further spots, rearranging them to look neater.

And ooh wee, it’s the ultimate feeling.

You moved to your night stand, repeating the process as well as stacking a few empty cups along the way.

You got me lifted and feeling so gifted, suga how you get so fly.

You continued to sing, cleaning the remnants of dust off your nightstand as you moved to stack the kitchenware together, planning to take them out once you were done.

Your throat vibrated as you sang along, not being able to hear your own voice. Not that it mattered; your neighbors were far enough away that it wouldn’t catch their attention. As you moved toward the full body mirror across the room, you didn’t feel the presence behind you.

Suga suga how you get so fly?

Thick hands settled on your waist and you nearly jumped out of your skin. Turning around swiftly and yanking an earbud out, you were face to face with Arthur.

“Arthur!” you huffed. “You scared the shit outta me!”

“Sorry,” he murmured, although there was a playful hint in his eye. “Didn’t mean to interrupt ya.”

“Yeah you did,” you scoffed, lightly smacking his chest. “Or else you wouldn’t have touched me.”

His chest rumbled in a chuckle. “Alright, you caught me,” he raised his hands in mock surrender. “What’re you singin’ anyway?”

Your face flushed immediately as embarrassment welled in your chest. You tilted your head down, breaking his gaze. “Uh, nothing… I know, I sound terrible.”

“No, you don’t.”

Was he just trying to be nice?

“Y/N, your voice sounds amazin’. I don’t know why you think you don’t.” he spoke softly, bringing his hand up to your chin, gently guiding you to look at him again.

You gazed into his eyes. They were light, reflecting the small smile on his face. “If you say so.” you sighed.

He smiled wider, a hint of satisfaction on those lips. He then stepped back from you, taking a seat on the bed. “Can you sing more?”

The burning in your cheeks grew hotter. “Uh, really?”

He nodded. “If you want to, that is.”

You hadn’t sung in front of anyone since middle school choir. Not that you had stage fright, but it’d been so long since your voice was accompanied by an audience, at least one that wasn’t your cat. But Arthur wanted to hear, and he sat patiently before you, the curiosity he had unwavering.

The song was still playing. Taking a deep breath, you fixed your gaze on the wall behind him. You waited until the chorus began again, falling in tune with it easily.

Got me lifted, shifted, higher than the ceiling.

And ooh wee, it’s the ultimate feeling.

You got me lifted and feeling so gifted,

Suga how you get so fly?

Suga suga how you get so fly,

Suga suga how you get so fly,

Suga suga how you get so fly?

It was short, and you kept your best not to let your voice tremble. Your gaze met Arthur’s again, expecting him to be disappointed.

Instead, it was the opposite. “Lovely,” he breathed. “I could listen to your voice all day.”

Your insides instantly turned to mush. Somehow this man could still make you weak kneed. Your eyes drifted away, catching your blushing reflection in the mirror. “You’re too sweet.”

“So are you, as sweet as sugar,” he chuckled, standing up to approach you again. “And so…fly? Whatever that means.”

You couldn’t help but to laugh at the attempt the 19th century outlaw made to use a modern world hip-hop term. Still, though, your blush refused to go away. Placing your phone down, you turned to look at him again. He was closer now, yet there was a space between you, a space he deliberately made.

You reached for his hands, lacing your fingers with his as you stepped closer. He moved, almost mirroring you action as he stepped back. “Y/N-”

“Arthur,” you interrupted, squeezing his hands. “Do you honestly think you could get away with complimenting me, without letting me do something in return?”

“You don’t need to do anythin’,” he spoke softly. “Except take my word.”

“You’re too kind to me, you know.” you replied, standing on your toes to place a kiss on his cheek. You were careful to let your lips linger against his skin.

He exhaled. “Could say the same about you, darlin’.” he struggled to keep his voice even.

You smiled simply, leaning forward to kiss him on the lips. He responded, softening to your touch. Your body pressed to his, and he immediately stiffened.

“Y/N,” he began as he pulled back. “Please-I’m still-”

“You’re on antibiotics,” you reminded him sternly. “And I’m not infected.”

He shook his head at your stubbornness. “You’re too damn determined.”

“I know I am,” your voice graced with a slight giggle. “It couldn’t hurt, Arthur. Who knows how long you’ve been infected, and we’ve been together for a while now. If I were to get sick, I would have gotten it already,” You released his hands to place yours on his chest, a light touch. You breathed in his scent; the faint hint of the soap you’d bought him, overpowered by the fresh aroma of the outside. Pine, he’d definitely spent some time in the forest. Somehow, it turned you on even more. “Besides, think of this as part of your healing.”

He looked away, giving off a sigh. He wanted to argue by the look on his face, and you waited for him to bring up a rebuttal. Yet nothing came as he met your gaze again. His hands covered yours. “You make it hard not to.”

“Then don’t fight it,” you whispered, reaching up to rest your lips on his cheek, making sure your chest brushed against his torso. “And let’s have fun.”

You heard his breathing quicken slightly, his body shuddering underneath your touch. His head turned to meet your lips, kissing you tenderly as his hands moved to your hips. Your arms moved, wrapping around his neck, pressing your body even closer to his. He felt so warm against you, warm and comforting.

He deepened the kiss, allowing his lips to move with yours. His hold on you was gentle, yet firm as he pulled you toward the bed.  He sat down on it and you effortlessly straddled him, your lips not breaking away from his. As you made a swift job in unbuttoning his shirt, you felt his hands slide to your ass, squeezing it gently. The action caused you to giggle softly. You brought your hips forward, grinding against him, earning a small groan.

It didn’t take much to get him aroused, already feeling the bulge in his jeans against your inner thigh. You reached down to free him of his confinement, his erection hot in your hand. Pumping him in your gentle grip, he pulled back, his breathing shallow as he rested his forehead against yours.

“Shit-” he cursed lowly, “You turn me on like a damn switch.”

You bit back a giggle, giving him a sly look. “Haven’t heard you complain before, cowboy.”

“Who said I was?” he chuckled.

“Good.” You said, pushing him backwards. He didn’t hesitate to let you take over, his eyes on you as you scooted between his legs, inching his pants down and lowering yourself until you were eye level with his dick. You placed a tender kiss on the head, and a small huff graced your ears. “Let me take care of you. Try and last longer than a minute.”

Although he hadn’t outwardly said it, you were sure that head was his favorite thing. You didn’t do it too much, and often times when you did, he’d finish much sooner than either of you anticipated. You’d have to be careful.

“I’ll try,” he grunted, eyeing you with a playful gleam. “Can’t make no promises though.”

“Hm…” your hands reached forward, your fingers feather light on his abdomen, feeling the rise and fall of his breathing. Curling your fingers, you dug your nails in his skin, feeling him jump underneath with a hiss of pain. You dragged them down, halting at his waistline.

“Jesus, Y/N,” he breathed, looking at the scours that now tattooed his torso. “You a cat now?”

You only smiled, ducking your head to take the tip within your mouth. Whatever he was going to say next was cut off when he let out a sigh.

Your tongue worked him slowly, sliding down his length, worshipping every inch. You listened to his moans, your name mixed with the occasional swear. His cock twitched against your mouth, and you could tell he wanted you to take him entirely. Not yet. You wanted to tease him.

Your lips pressed against the shaft, up and down, placing light kisses against his hot skin. Meanwhile your hand cupped his balls gently, massaging them between your fingers.

“You do that,” he started breathlessly. “And I’m gonna finish sooner than you want.”

You couldn’t help but to shoot him an innocent look, bringing your lips to the head again. You kept your eyes locked as you sunk your mouth down to his root, watching his own lose focus in pure ecstasy. You paused, letting him soak up the feeling before bobbing your head at a steady pace.

Only a few short moments passed before his hand laid on your head, his fingers knotting in your hair. He breathed out sinful whispers to you, beckoning for your own pleasure. Seeing Arthur melt from your actions was a huge turn on, and you already felt your heat pooling between your legs. Gentle pressure on your head urged you to quicken your pace, but only slightly.

You felt him buck, reaching the back of your throat. You held yourself well, letting him have a moment of fun before sliding your mouth up his length. The heat of his pre-cum released against your tongue. Your swirled around the sensitive pink flesh of his head, feeling him shudder.

He groaned your name, applying more pressure to your head, allowing you to engulf him once again. A steady movement, taking him all nearly at a snail’s pace. From the look on his face he fought the urge to hit the back of your throat once again. You listened to his groans and growls, the way he swore each time you took him deep.

“Y/N…” he huffed, his grip suddenly tightening on your hair. You knew what that meant.

Pulling your mouth off with a pop of your lips, you gave him a sultry smile. His breathing erratic, he gave you a look of slight pleading for denying his release.

Neither of you exchanged words, your eyes alone telling him all. Pulling his pants off completely, yours soon following as you climbed back up, holding his gaze as you straddled him. His hands groped your hips, almost helping you sheathe him. You let out a moan as your inner walls stretched pleasantly as you took all of him.

To your surprise, he thrust up once, a smirk forming on his lips as he did so. Oh, he definitely was in a playful mood. Your response was to grind against him hard, rolling your hips in a fast and smooth motion. His nails spurred you, digging into your flesh as you did so. A hiss escaped your lips as your own hands found purchase on his chest to add to the markings from earlier.

He bucked into you again, cursing out loud as his head tilted back. Your hips rocked against him harder, biting your lip as the pleasure traveled up your core. “Arthur,” you sighed. “You feel so good…”

He brought his focus back to you, his eyes lighting up as a wide smile. He began to thrust, timing to fall into your rhythm. The way he angled himself allowed him to hit your sweet spot. You trembled, letting out a long moan, raking your nails along his torso. Admittedly this was the first time you’d gotten a little rough with him, and he seemed to enjoy it as his thrusts became harder.

One hand left your hip, sliding to your center as he began to play. You uttered a gasp, almost pausing your movement as the stimulation overtook your body. “H-hey, I’m supposed to be taking care of you.” you managed to squeak.

“You wanted this, darlin’,” he reminded you. “I’m only providin’ my share.”

He truly was too good to you, even when sick. Your peak was quickly building, the heat burning in your core intense as he fiddled your clit. Too close to delay it, you threw yourself forward, gripping onto his shoulders. “F-fuck!” you choked out.

“That’s it, sweetheart…” he rumbled to you, the final addition to your release. The coil sprung, the sensation conquering as your walls squeezed around him. You let out a gratuitous whine, catching your breath as he ran a finger over your sensitive skin. You were now keenly aware of the wetness that made its presence between your legs.

“Shit, you made a mess, princess.” He chuckled, and your cheeks burned once again.

“Couldn’t help it,” you giggled shyly. “You’re amazing, Mr. Morgan.”

You half expected him to disagree, instead he smiled again, wrapping his arms around you to pull you down to him. His lips met yours, kissing deeply. He bucked himself up into you again, your whimper lost in his lips. He pulled back only slightly to murmur, “And you’re as sweet as sugar.”

Your only response was a moan, pleasure taking its hold on you once again as he thrust hard and deep within you. His lips found yours again as you gripped his shoulders, leaving none of his skin unmarked as you clawed him. His own hisses and moans mixed with yours. His arms kept you tight against him, his warmth encircling you, somehow increasing your ecstasy.

His pace only increased, pounding into you almost relentlessly as he held you close. He pulled back to breathe, placing his forehead against yours. “Y/N…I’m gettin’ close.”

“Go ahead.” You granted, placing your hands on his face and giving him a light, short kiss.

His breath hitched, holding you even tighter to drive himself as far as he could, burying himself completely within you. You felt a second build up quick, pushed over the edge sooner than you anticipated. Your core exploded with even more intensity than before. You shuddered against him, giving a strained cry as he gave you no chance to recover.

He wasn’t far behind, his movement becoming erratic for a moment before he drove himself deep one last time, his torso vibrating with a guttural moan as his release spilled inside you. His hands held an iron grip on you, keeping you still as the last of his seed emptied, accompanied by one shallow thrust.

He took a deep breath, relaxing his arms as his head fell back. “Christ…” he sighed. “That’s some healing session.”

You couldn’t help but to giggle at that. “How do you feel after that?”

“Exhausted,” he mumbled, looking at you lazily. “But real good.”

You smiled, sitting up slowly and sliding off him, watching him tremble between your legs as he did so. Strings of his seed dripped onto his lower torso. You silently thanked yourself for not replacing the sheets yet. Taking the spot next to him, you turned to face him. “I’m glad.”

He leaned over to kiss your cheek. “I definitely wouldn’t mind havin’ more of those, darlin’.”

Your smile only widened. “Not a problem.”

[missdaviswrites]

22. Feast

Rosie always loved Christmas Day, of course, but this year was even more exciting than usual, because instead of going to Gram and Grandad's for dinner, Gram and Grandad were coming here to Baker Street. Sherlock didn't want to do it at first, but Daddy convinced him that they should, that it would be nice for Gram not to have to make a big dinner for once. Daddy said he and Sherlock knew how to cook, so it wouldn't be that hard, and it would be a good change from spending the morning driving out to the country like they did every other year.

After they opened presents, Daddy and Sherlock went into the kitchen to start getting things ready to cook. Rosie wanted to help but they said it was too crowded for three people at once and they were both sounding kind of cranky so she decided to start playing the new Mario game she'd got for Christmas instead. If Daddy and Sherlock were busy they wouldn't tell her she could only play video games for a little while like they usually did.

She'd only got to level three when Sherlock came out of the kitchen, dragging Lady by the collar. "Take her," he said, sounding way too grumpy for Christmas. Rosie set down her Nintendo for a second and put her arms around Lady while Sherlock went over to the hook by the door that held her lead. She started to wag her tail, which made it hard for Rosie to hold her because her whole body was moving. "No," Sherlock said. "No walk. Sit." He snapped the lead onto Lady's collar and handed it to Rosie. "Keep her in here. We're trying to stuff the turkey and she won't stay out of the way. We should have had it in the oven thirty minutes ago."

Rosie took the lead from him and stuck her hand through the loop at the end, then slid out of Daddy's armchair to sit on the floor next to Lady. Ginger immediately jumped up to take Rosie's spot on the chair—they'd only had her for a few weeks, but the kitten had already decided the chair was her favorite place to be whenever Daddy wasn't in it.

Rosie went back to her game, but didn't get very much further in it before she heard a weird noise. She looked down at Lady, who had fallen asleep with her head underneath Sherlock's chair, but it wasn't her. Then she heard it again, sort of like a weird coughing noise. It was Ginger.

"Daddy! Something's wrong with Ginger!" Rosie put her game down again and reached for the cat, who jumped over the arm of the chair, away from her.

Daddy stuck his head out from the kitchen, frowning. "Sounds like she's trying to vomit."

"Ew!" Rosie scooted away from Ginger, startling Lady, who woke up and barked a few times.

"No, it's pretty normal for cats. She's probably trying to bring up a hairball."

Rosie wrinkled her nose. She slipped Lady's lead off her hand so she could move around the chair on her hands and knees to get another look at Ginger. "There's something hanging out of her mouth. I think it's some ribbon from this morning."

"Oh, Rosie!" Daddy waved the large spoon he was holding in the air, then tossed it onto the worktop and marched out into the sitting room. "I told you to make sure everything got picked up and thrown away."

"I did!"

"Well, you must have missed something. Grab her."

Rosie lunged for Ginger and got her fingers on her but the kitten was too fast and slipped away, darting behind one of Sherlock's old stereo speakers next to the fireplace.

"Oh, for...." Daddy walked around to stand on one side of the speaker. "You try to grab her from over there and I'll get her if she runs this way."

Ginger made another hacking sound as Rosie reached for her. She could see the ribbon hanging from the cat's mouth still—it was gold, and had drool running down it, yuck. She stretched out her arm to try to pull it out of her mouth but suddenly Lady was in the way, trying to push past her to see what was going on, and Rosie lost her balance, falling forward so that she almost landed right on Ginger. The cat hissed and jumped, launching herself up and over the speaker and the pile of file folders that were stacked on top of it. The folders slid everywhere as she climbed over them, spilling papers in every direction. Lady started barking again and Rosie shoved her out of the way so she could chase after Ginger, who was running with the long piece of ribbon still trailing from her mouth.

"Get her, get her!" Daddy shouted. "If she swallows that long of a piece we'll need to take her to the vet!"

"I'm trying!" Rosie shouted back, as Ginger ran underneath the Christmas tree in the corner of the room.

"What is going on out here?" Sherlock came out of the kitchen, wearing a dirty white apron over his suit.

"Help us catch Ginger," Daddy said. "She's got a piece of Christmas ribbon in her mouth and I don't fancy paying the vet bill for her to have surgery to remove it."

Sherlock wiped his hands down the front of his apron and joined them in the sitting room. "Rosie, you crawl underneath the tree after her and we'll grab her when she runs away from you."

Rosie did as he said. She thought she was going to be able to catch Ginger now, because the cat stopped again to cough some more, but as soon as Rosie reached for her she ran again, only this time she ran straight up the tree.

"No!" Daddy shouted, and grabbed the tree just as it started to tip. He said at least three bad words while Ginger clutched at the trunk of the tree, about as high up as Rosie was tall.

Sherlock said another bad word, though not as bad as Daddy's words, and then he reached into the branches and caught Ginger, prying her paws off so she didn't drag the whole tree over as he pulled her out from it. He took one step back from the tree and tucked her under his left arm, then pried open her mouth with that hand so he could pull the ribbon out with the other. "Got it!" he announced, and tossed Ginger onto the sofa. She hissed and then ran behind the bookcase.

Daddy let go of the tree carefully, stepping next to Sherlock. "Let me see." He squinted at the wet piece of ribbon and said, "I think you got all of it—the end doesn't look chewed. She should be fine."

Rosie tried to turn around so she could crawl back out from behind the tree, but there wasn't much room, so she went backwards, instead. There were pine needles all over the tree skirt—there hadn't been that many on the floor until Ginger had jumped into the tree, but now they were sticking through her leggings and they were sharp. Maybe next year they should buy a fake tree like Daddy always wanted to, even if it wouldn't smell as nice.

Just when she got out from underneath it, there was another crashing sound, even louder than all the crashing sounds Ginger had made.

"The turkey!" Sherlock shouted, and ran back to the kitchen, with Daddy right behind him. Rosie stood up and went after them—it wasn't Ginger this time, though, because Rosie could see her tail sticking out next to the bookcase still.

When she got to the kitchen she saw what had happened—there was stuffing everywhere, the dish that had held the turkey and stuffing was on the floor, and so was the raw turkey itself, except one of the legs and a big chunk of meat from the top were gone. Lady had the missing pieces in her mouth—she stood at the far end of the kitchen, staring at Sherlock and Daddy.

"You little—" Daddy began, but before he could say more bad words, Sherlock dove forward and grabbed Lady's lead so she couldn't get away. Daddy yanked the turkey out of her mouth, tossing it into the sink.

"Turkey's not bad for dogs," Sherlock said. "There's some risk of salmonella since it's uncooked, and she shouldn't have the bones, but—"

"I'm not letting the dog eat our Christmas dinner!"

"Well, we can't eat it ourselves, now."

Daddy and Sherlock stared at each other for a moment, until Lady started to creep forward toward the meat that was still on the floor in the middle of the kitchen.

"No!" Sherlock yelled, and then dragged Lady down the hall and shut her in his and Daddy's bedroom.

"What are we going to do for dinner?" Rosie asked.

Sherlock stood over the turkey on the floor. "Cook the part she didn't have in her mouth?" he suggested.

"God, no," Daddy said. "It looks terrible. Half the meat's missing. What would your mum say?"

"She'd probably laugh a lot."

"No. Sherlock. We need to figure out something else. What shops are open?"

"Nothing that sells whole turkeys. We could probably get sandwiches."

"Oh, God." Daddy put his hands up to his mouth like he was trying to hold in more bad words.

"Don't worry, John," Sherlock said, and stepped close to give him a little kiss on the side of his head. "We can fix this. We'll just find something else to cook."

"What? There might be some chicken in the freezer but not enough to feed everyone."

"No." Sherlock brought his fingers up to his chin and was quiet for a minute. Daddy squatted down and started to pick up all the food on the floor and then Sherlock spun around on his heel, pointing at Rosie. "You go downstairs to Mrs. Hudson's flat, you know where the key is. I doubt she'll have any large servings of meat, but maybe we'll get lucky and she'll have a roast in the freezer. If not, we'll just tell everyone we've recently gone vegetarian. See if Mrs. Hudson has some more potatoes, or maybe some rice. We'll make an extra dish or two to serve with what we've already planned."

"Okay," Rosie nodded and turned to head downstairs.

"Oh! Eggplant!" Sherlock shouted after her. "See if she has any! We can make a lasagna; it will seem like we planned it all along. Hurry. Gram and Grandad will be here at noon and knowing Mycroft he could show up at any minute. Go! Go!"

Rosie ran off, glancing at her Mario game and at the cat still hiding next to the bookcase as she passed by. Maybe next year they could go back to having Christmas dinner at Gram and Grandad's house. The drive out to the country really wasn't that bad after all.

Read all the ficlets here: Welcome Christmas

[mercuryeet]

Lover (Smut warning. Beware)

Sunday morning looked so good as it danced across his face. His eyelids fluttered as he tried his best to stay asleep.

I lay down next to him, with my head propped on my elbow. I’ve never met someone who truly captured my gaze as much as him. I could scan his features for hours on end and never get bored of them.

I reached a hand out and gently grazed his face, before placing the palm of my hand over his cheek. They were cold due to the lack of heat in our little flat.

‘Small rooms don’t get as cold’ said Prenter a while back. I recalled the words as well as Freddie’s rebuttal.

‘Bullshit and you know it. Small rooms get just as cold and you have even less space to install a heater.’

My love began to open his eyes. A tired smile curved across his precious face.

“Darling you really must stop staring. It’s incredibly unsettling.”

“How do you know I was staring if you’ve just woken up?” I giggle as I scoot in closer to wrap my arms around his midsection.

“I could feel your eyes like pins and needles, dear.” He laughed and returned the affection, adjusting himself so that I lay in his arms and my cheek rests on his chest. We were curled up together under a mountain of blankets. My favorite of which was the blue and white one crocheted by Freddie’s mother. She had given it to us as a gift just after our first anniversary. Expressing that she hopes it will soon be the blanket used for our first son. I remember how red in the cheeks I had gotten when she said that to me. I had never imagined children would be in the cards for me, but with Freddie I sometimes wish we could have a baby.

“What are you thinking about, Sweetie?” Freddie closed his eyes again and began to run his fingers through the top of my hair.

“Having a baby.” I spit it out almost awkwardly.

He chuckled as if he didn’t believe me.

“I knew that damn blanket was a curse.” He laughed as he opened his eyes. “You really want a baby?”

I nodded my head against his chest, burying my face into him.

Before I knew it he was turning over on top of me, covering both of us completely under the blankets. Almost like a pillow fort you’d build as a child.

He got low and close to my face, planting two kisses on my head.

“Miranda. We have to make a baby in order to have one.”

“You know I have no problem with that.” I laughed as I leaned in to give him a few tiny nibbles just below his jaw.

A truly amused laugh arose from his chest “Spoken like a fool my love.”

Before I could put a word in Freddie was showering me with hot, wet kisses. His hands found their way up my tee shirt and had grazed over my chest.

My heart nearly jumped out of my body. I was flushed and hot all at an instant. I tried to whimper his name but he met my lips with more sloppy kisses.

“Are you sure you want to Darling?” He whispered in my ear.

“What a dumb question.” With all my might I pushed myself upright, sending Freddie falling backwards onto the pile of blankets. It was my turn to straddle him and make HIS life hell. I lifted my shirt above my head and flung it across the room, leaving me in nothing but a tiny pair of blue panties.

I took his hands, more aggressively than usual, and placed them on my breasts. Freddie had the dumbest smile plastered on his face. He played with each handful and continued to outstretch his head to be kissed.

“Miranda..” he groaned in between kisses.

I began to feel him harden beneath me. It made me even more restless than before. With quickened kisses I raised my hips enough to slide off the blue undergarments and throw them to the floor.

Freddie smacked both of his hands across my ass and clung to me after.

“Lay down Darling.” He said as he pushed me over onto my back. Before I could struggle he had placed his hand over my midsection and pushed me back down.

Freddie sunk low between my hips. His lips slowly making their way around my folds. “You look absolutely ravishing Darling.”

He looked me in the eyes one last time before letting his tongue part my labia to find my sweet spot. My head immediately flew back, my fingernails digging into the blankets. As he meandered his tongue around he began to play with his fingers around the opening of my hole. I felt my breath quicken as he got closer and closer to pushing his fingers inside of me.

“Freddie baby...” I moaned. He began to suck harder and before I knew it I was almost on the edge.

He must have felt the tension because he immediately stopped. He moved back up and continues to kiss my neck and lips.

I had gotten so wound up my hands started shaking. Freddie sat me up and held me close.

“You’re irresistible Sweet heart.” He whispered in my ear.

I pulled back from him just a smidge. Just enough to slide his boxers down and grab ahold of the throbbing member between his legs. He let out a sigh as soon as I touched him. Freddie has always been tender. So sensitive to the touch.

I started to stroke him slowly, then faster as he became hot to the touch. He became so flustered I think he had forgotten to breathe, as each breath he took became deeper and more exasperated.

“God damn it Miranda,” Freddie pushed me back down with my legs wide open. In one swift motion he had flung his boxers to the ground “are you ready Darling?”

I nodded my head and spread my legs further.

“Tell me how much you want it.” He panted. He pressed his head against mine as his cock teased my entrance.

“Freddie, baby...” I whimpered “I need it Freddie.”

He gently kissed me and pushed my bangs out of my face. Freddie slowly pushed himself inside of me. Inch by inch I felt full as he pumped in and out. I couldn’t hold it in any longer. With each thrust a small scream escaped me. Freddie groaned and pulled my hair harder and harder. My locks were clenched in his fist.

“Darling...” Freddie sighed against my head “I’m so close.”

I couldn’t find the breath to speak so I simply nodded. I was close to the edge too. I could feel myself tensing up around him.

Suddenly Freddie let go a roar, bashing his fist into the bed beside us. I felt my insides get hotter and just a few drops escaped me. That sent me over the edge. I dug my nails into his back and screamed.

As we both cooled down Freddie collapsed on top of me. He buried his face into my bosom and gave sweet, soft kisses. We both struggled to catch our breath together.

His mouth curled into a smug smile against my skin “How was that for making a baby, my love?”

I layed my hand against his head and stroked his hair behind his ear. “I love you Freddie.”

“I know it Darling.”

[bluerene]

Vogue [robstar]

I know, I know, I’m working on posting River, part five tonight, but @dar-draws mentioned a modeling headcanon the other day that I could not stop thinking about soooooo here’s an unexpected fic to start off your day!

Warning: It’s not totally NSFW, but we have a near-naked Dick Grayson and a very flirty Starfire. Also, excessive cheesiness. It was late when I finished it and early when I edited it, so I have no idea whether or not this product is any good. 

As always, feel free to share your thoughts with me! 

The offers for modeling came pouring in not long after Kori Anders had made her first appearance at a Wayne Charity Gala. Dick supposed it was inevitable. After all, they’d designed an alter ego so she could play a role in his second life. And with the entrance she had made that evening, he was surprised people hadn’t been shoving contracts in her face the moment she’d stepped off the stairs.

“Oooh, Richard, I do not feel well,” Kori said nervously, playing with her evening gloves, “perhaps it would be best if we do this at a later date.” He touched her chin gently and kissed her forehead, “you have nothing to worry about, Star. You look beautiful. Just keep your head up and your feet on the ground. Dad and I can take care of the vultures.” “I do not wish to embarrass you,” she replied unhappily. “You never could,” Dick said, “and he doesn’t think so either. He’s glad you’re here.” “I am glad he has done the coming around.” “We both knew he would have to eventually,” he said with a grin, sliding his hand into hers, “be it now or ten years in the future when you’re pregnant with my kid.” Kori giggled, raising an eyebrow, “ten years, Mr. Grayson? We are waiting that long for children? Is it not a crime to deprive the world of our beautiful offspring?” “Ten years, eight years, two years, it’s all the same to me. As long as I have you.” “And I, you.”

She had pushed open the door and linked her arm with his, raising her head as they descended the polished marble staircase. Her grip tightened when the hall fell quiet, the silence broken only by hushed voices and clicking cameras.

But she did well. She always did well, as Starfire with the people of Jump, and as Kori with the press of Gotham. Courteous, diplomatic, and charming. She carried a sort of regality in her posture, something the other partygoers couldn’t help but notice. Dick and Kori were splashed in color on the front page of the paper the next day. And the rest was history. She was happy to enter an agreement with a designer based in Gotham. It was a two-hour commute from their apartment in Blüdhaven, but Bruce had already promised her a room at Wayne Manor, and full access to their teleporter. He was making a great effort, she noticed, to connect with her. That was nice to see.

The first few weeks were difficult. Photoshoots were fun but draining, and Kori quickly realized they were typically hostile environments. Photographers poked and prodded her, raising her arms and straightening her back, posing her as if she were an object. They spoke hurriedly, in exasperated tones, pulling faces whenever she failed to hide her inexperience. It was frustrating for her, and worse, she felt more out of place than ever.

The first rehearsal for the Spring Collection Fashion Show was the most difficult one she’d been through. She came home far later than she’d planned (though earlier than the director had liked), worked to the brink of exhaustion. She tossed her keys on the counter and headed straight for the bedroom, shrugging her coat off and hanging it on the back of the door.

She removed her holo-rings first, collapsing on the bed immediately after. She groaned loudly, blinking away the tears that had pooled in her eyes.

Her boyfriend poked his head out of their bathroom, toothbrush in hand.

“Hey, you’re home early. I thought you’d come to cuddle after midnight.”

Starfire kicked off her heels.

“They requested I stay longer but I did not wish to,” she said, sniffling.

Dick’s eyes narrowed in concern.

“Is everything okay?”

She shook her head, avoiding his gaze.

“Richard, would you think little of me if I were to leave the industry of modeling?”

“No, but I’d be worried. What’s wrong, Star? I thought you were enjoying the shoots.”

Starfire sighed.

“It has not come as easily to me as I expected it would. It is most...invasive. And challenging. And I do not think the other models like me very much.”

He set down his toothbrush and joined her on the bed, gesturing for her to curl up beside him.

“That’s probably because you’re a thousand times prettier than any of them.”

“The photographers do not think so,” she mumbled.

“Then they’re blind and stupid,” Dick said cheerfully, pressing a kiss to her cheek, “you’re still learning. You’ll figure it out. And when you do, you’ll look back on this conversation and realize how silly it is.”

“I am tired,” she said feebly, “help me get ready to sleep.”

“Lazy. But fine, I’m always good with naked Starfire.”

“Pajamas, please.”

“My choice?”

“I do not wish to rise from this spot, so I will trust you with that.”

“Sweet.”

Dick scooted off the bed and crossed the room to her dresser, pulling open the top drawer to find his favorite items.

“Thong and nightie? Please?”

Starfire raised her arm, wiggling her fingers, “you may give them to me.”

He grinned and tossed them into her hand, “did I mention how much I love you?”

“It does not hurt to hear it more often. Unzip my dress, please.”

She sat up on her knees and pulled her hair over her shoulder, turning her back to him.

“I do not know what to do anymore,” she said miserably.

“Y’know, Star,” Dick said slowly, dragging the zipper down her spine, “I could give you a couple of pointers. I’ve done a few photoshoots in my time.”

Starfire shrugged off the dress and reached for the clasp of her bra, unhooking it and slipping it off.

“Truly?” She asked, glancing over her shoulder to look at him.

He passed her the lavender nightie he had chosen, not bothering to hide his smirk, “if you want.”

“Will you teach me right now?”

“What? I mean, sure, I can, but - “

“You may remove your shirt”

“Uh, come again?”

“Well,” Starfire began, a devious smile crossing her face, “you have said you will give me the tips for modeling. And I feel as though attire similar to what I wear will help me understand the posing much better. So if you would be so kind as to remove your clothing, we could commence with the practice.”

“That’s not exactly what I meant,” Dick protested.

“But it is what you said,” she replied gleefully, rolling onto her stomach. She propped herself up on her elbows, kicking her legs in the air, “and it would improve my mood greatly if you would follow through with what you said.”

He muttered something inaudible under his breath, but relented, raising his shirt over his head and tossing it on the bed.

“You’re a pervert, princess.”

“And you are beautiful to admire, my prince,” she cooed, tracing the contours of his stomach with her eyes.

“As long as you’re the one doing the admiring.”

“Always,” Starfire purred.

Dick, now clad only in boxers, placed his hands on his hips and pouted, “is this naked enough for you?”

“For the moment. You may proceed with the modeling.”

“Ha! I already am,” he puffed out his chest and straightened his back, turning his cheek in a way that defined the line of his jaw, “this is a pretty standard pose. Hands near your waist, lips pursed, chin jutting out so your neck looks longer.”

Starfire tilted her head.

“But you look so unnatural. Humans do not stand this way.”

“The whole point of modeling is to express a concept in a way that enhances the idea rather than the person,” he explained, hooking his thumbs under the waistband of his boxers and leaning against her dresser, “like this. Underwear ads for men like to emphasize the attractiveness of their brand. So guys clench their abs and arms, thrust their hips out like this - Star, are you even listening to me?”

“Hmmm? Oh yes!”

“No you aren’t,” Dick rolled his eyes, “you’re all flustered.”

“Do the thrust again.”

“Babe, how am I supposed to help you model if you keep eyeing me like this - “

“Thrust. Once more, please. I promise I will pay very close attention to your technique.”

“Sure you will,” he said disbelievingly, “anyways, whatever piece you’re modeling needs to be emphasized by your body. So for underwear, your stomach, thighs, and arms are the points of focus. Clothing depends on the style, but you can almost always guarantee longer limbs by arching your back or craning your neck.”

Starfire pushed herself onto her knees and turned her neck, pulling her hands up into her hair. She leaned back, exposing the flat of her belly at the hem of her nightie, and bending her arms so the soft lines of muscle became more apparent.

“Like this?”

Dick grinned, running his gaze over her body, “lookin’ pretty good.”

Starfire giggled, letting her hands drop to her knees, “I thank you. Do you have more of the tricks for me?”

“Of course, but we couldn’t get through them all in one night. Guess we’ll have to do this again sometime.”

“Richard Grayson,” she said, crossing her arms, “if I did not know better, I would think you are enjoying being my model.”

“I just like the attention. And helping you. Besides, we have way too much to cover. There are all sorts of modeling, and I think it’ll be easier for me to demonstrate if I have an assistant.”

“I shall fetch Silkie right away.”

Dick frowned, “aw, come on, now I’m thinking of modeling naked with Silkie as an accessory, why’d you have to do that?”

“You were acting far too cheeky for your own good,” Starfire said airily, flopping back on onto the bed. She scooched backward until she was pressed against the headboard and retrieved her phone from the nightstand.

“What are you doing?”

“I am taking pictures so that I can practice these poses on my own.”

Dick eyed her suspiciously.

“Is this going to be one of those things where half the girls in the network see it and I end up getting teased for a month by the guys?”

“Oh, these are for my eyes only, my love. Please, do the working of it.”

“You’re awfully cheery for someone who had a bad day,” he noted, smiling as he flexed his biceps.

Starfire took a photo and smiled at the screen, “And you are truly the greatest boyfriend in the world to work as hard as you do to make me happy. Oooh, I do admire that pose.”

Dick smoldered at her from over his shoulder, curving his back inwards and pulling his arms back, revealing tense lines of muscles along his body.

“I know you do, it’s the ass,” he said smugly.

He continued to shift between different positions, explaining each one and its intention as he did. Starfire, for all her teasing, did feel as though her understanding of them had improved, mimicking some of the easier ones to get his input. She learned that the more contorted your body was, the more unique it would make certain styles appear to be. Cameras sought mystery and so she needed to stare with half-lidded eyes, lips pursed as if there was something she disapproved of but the viewer would never know for sure.

When she started to tire, he asked her if they could try one more thing before they slept.

“Runways are harder. The walk is definitely something you’ll need, and I can’t really teach you the exact technique without heels, but you need to stand straight, arch your back, and take long strides. Try not to look too interested, but if the designer wants something specific, go with their vision.”

“You mean I must make the royal face?”

“The one you wear at my Dad’s parties? Definitely.”

“If I were to find heels for you to walk in - “

“Nope.”

“But - “

“I can teach you in other ways, babe. Besides, you’re the one on the runway, not me.”

Dick climbed onto the bed, placing his arms on either side of her.

“I am not tired.”

“You are, and you should be. You have another rehearsal tomorrow,” he whispered, kissing her nose.

She pouted, “and if I do not go?”

“It’s your choice,” he said, shrugging his shoulders, “but we did spend an hour and a half practicing, and you made me do allllll of those poses.”

“You did not mind it,” Starfire muttered.

“Give it a try, Star. Things’ll get better. Just remember what I said.”

“Mmmmm.”

He kissed her gently, moving off of her and sliding under the covers of their bed.

“Get some rest. I’ll wake you up so we can shower before you head out.”

She wrapped her arms around his chest, snuggling into his back, “I love you, Richard.”

“Love you too, Starfire.”

The lessons continued for weeks, growing more serious as they neared the presentation of the Spring Collection. Dick moved furniture around in their living room, setting out outfits for her to ‘model’ (though most of it was just lingerie he happened to like, paired with sexy stilettos). He threw together a playlist and blasted it from the kitchen, walking their makeshift runway and instructing her to follow suit.

She was a fast learner. There was an obvious improvement at work, particularly in the way she was treated by the photographers, who were backing off and giving her space to try to the concept on her own. The other models had softened slightly, occasionally extending invitations to lunch or drinks after work.

When the Spring Collection launch show finally came around, it was no surprise to Dick that she blew the audience away.

She looked beautiful.

She had always been beautiful, of course, but there, under the bright lights, he was really at a loss for words.

Long legs. Looooooong golden legs, shiny, smooth, soft, miles of silky skin. He wanted to touch and taste, claim and reclaim.

She smoldered at him. Her eyes made contact with his and she pouted her lips. She was fiery, sparkly, fierce.  Her hair twisted and burned and defied gravity, flowing out behind her.

“Fucking hot,” Dick mumbled, letting out a loud whoop as she executed a flawless turn.

That dress. He hoped she would keep it forever. It was...glorious. She was wearing a dark purple wrap-around bra and a matching pair of high-waisted panties under a long, sheer, lavender dress that tied at the waist and fluttered open to reveal those long, gorgeous legs.

It was barely clothing. Barely there, barely acceptable for public wear, but God, he hoped she would keep it and wear it for him.

She glided down the runway like she was born to model.

The crowd adored her, cheering during her walks, screaming madly when she graced the stage for the final time.

Bruce threw together a small party to celebrate her success, though Dick knew it was really because he was impressed with how hard she had worked to give Kori Anders a name. It meant she cared enough to see a relationship in the harsher public eye all the way through. That was something his father could respect.

“You were amazing tonight,” he told her while she changed for bed, “Dad thought so too. Everybody did.”

“If I was, it is all thanks to you.”

“I know,” he replied, grinning wide, “you owe me a private modeling session right?”

“Several, though I am certain you know every night seems to be a ‘private modeling session’, correct?”

He shook his head, “no, that’s for work. I was helping you and we’d get carried away, I mean a real, music-and-lights, private, modeling session.”

Starfire smacked his arm lightly, “you are incorrigible.”

“You love me. Will you do it?”

“Right now?”

“I don’t see anyone else in this bedroom.”

She sighed and ran her fingers along the straps of her silk chemise, “I am tired.”

“Come oooooon, baby, please. Here - you love this song.”

He cupped his hands over his mouth and hummed - rather off-key, she noted through her laughter - “Vogue” by Madonna.

“This is terrible!” she cried out, posing anyways.

“Keep going.”

And she did, bending her legs and raising her arms and arching her back while Dick sang her favorite songs until she finally dissolved into giggles and climbed onto his lap.

“Thank you for everything,” Starfire said, pressing her lips to his, “you did not need to do all this.”

“Hey, what kind of boyfriend would I be if I let my girlfriend navigate her new job blindly?”

“The normal kind. You always seem to do more than you need to, Richard.”

“I love you, Star. It’s important to me that you know it.”

She kissed him again, “I do. I love you too. Would you model for me again if I asked?”

“I don’t think you need the help anymore, but sure?”

“Oh, it is not to help me with my own modeling,” Starfire said wickedly, burying her hand in his hair, “it is for something else.”

Dick grinned, settling his hands on her waist, “oh, that? Yeah, definitely. Always. Anytime.”

“Stop talking and do the making out now please.”

“My pleasure.” 

[moody-by-nature]

Rescue Me|Chapter Twelve

The sounds of their moans and heavy breathing filled the hotel room. Jared thrusted his still fully clothed body against Andrea, "Ah, J..." she moaned, and snapped her hips in rhythm. Jared slid his hand underneath her shirt, up to her left breast, nipping the skin on her neck between kisses.

Andrea hissed and bucked her hips against him in response. Jared's phone rang from across the room, going ignored. Andrea slipped her hands under Jared's shirt, roaming his back and dug her nails into his skin.

Immediately, his phone rang again and Andrea pushed him away. Her chest heaved as she spoke, "You should probably get that, it's important if they've called back that quick." Jared seized her lips once more, "You're more important than whoever that is." He replied.

Andrea smiled into his kiss, "That's sweet, but," Jared sighed, interrupting her, "The moment is over, huh?" He thrusted his hips into her once more, making her moan. "You don't play fair, J."  With another slow thrust, "You're the one stopping me." He said with a wink as he bit at her bottom lip.

Jared stopped his movement, but Andrea still felt his semi-hardness against her mound and it drove her insane. "I know, and I'm sorry." She sighed, Looking up at him as he hovered over her and placed her hands on his arms.

"Don't be sorry for stopping something you aren't ready for." Jared said, leaning down to place a sweet kiss on her lips. Andrea turned her head to kiss the red symbol on his right wrist before she playfully bit him.

He pulled himself away and swatted her lightly on her ass, "You're going to pay for that someday." He threatened lightly as he walked to his phone, "It was Shannon, I'm going to sit out on the balcony to call him back." Andrea nodded from her position on the bed, watching him perch himself on the side of the balcony. His face illuminated by his screen, "Hey, bro." was the last thing she heard before she drifted to sleep.

Jared returned inside to find a sleeping Andrea. Suddenly struck by an idea, he called down to the front desk asking for assistance with their bags. Once they are loaded into the back of the SUV, Jared returned to the room. He scooped her into his arms, and whispered into her ear. "I can't sleep, so I decided to drive some more. I have a surprise for you." He gently placed her in the back seat, on the pillow provided by the hotel staff and covered her with a blanket, kissing her temple before taking off.

They arrived in Joshua Tree, California, just before dawn on Christmas morning. Jared stopped at a quaint little Air BNB he was lucky to obtain last minute through a friend of his.

The early morning sunlight flowed through the curtains. Andrea cracked an eye open taking in her surroundings. She furrowed her eyebrow in confusion, 'there was a balcony there last night' she thought.

She turned onto her right side to find a Jared, still sound asleep. Lightly snoring, his lips parted slightly, long hair tousled around him. The memory of last night floated through her mind and she smiled. It was so sexy when he threw her against that wall, the way his hand felt on her throat. The way he felt against her. Her memory caused a small moan escape her lips, she ached to be closer to him.

With a shaky hand, she reached across and pushed Jared's hair from his eyes to get a better view of him and scooted closer. "Merry Christmas, beautiful." Jared croaked. Andrea jumped, not expecting him to speak. Eyes still closed, he let out a breathy laugh. Through a smile, she replied, "First of all, if you could actually see me, you'd realize I'm not beautiful. And you scared me! It's not nice to play opossum."

He pushed her over onto her back, halfway hovered over her, propped up on his elbow. "First of all, Andrea," he paused, raising an eyebrow, "when I tell you you're beautiful, I fucking mean it. Are we clear?" His tone serious.

Andrea gulped and nodded her head. "Answer me." He commanded. "Yes, Jared." She replied instantly, quickly raising her head to plant a chaste kiss on his lips, "Thank you." Jared lowered his head and placed a kiss on Andrea's forehead and then on her lips.

Andrea cupped his face and smiled, "By the way, remind me once we start working to add 'successful kidnapper' to your CV!" Jared laid back down and laughed, "You were out cold. After I got off the phone with Shannon, I had the idea to bring you here. I always try to celebrate my birthday here if I can."

"Where exactly is here?" Andrea asked. She propped herself up on her elbows to get a look at the room. The first thing that caught her attention was the architecture of the room. Half dome shaped and stuccoed, the walls all white and hardwood floors. Around the room were various pots filled with succulents, a telescope that sat next to a cozy chair adjacent the window.

Andrea turned her head to Jared expectantly, "We're in Joshua Tree." Andrea squealed and jumped up onto her knees. She threw a leg over Jared and straddled him, "I've always wanted to come here!"

Jared's hands automatically moved to her hips, massaging her skin. Andrea leaned forward and pushed her lips to his, grabbing at his muscular shoulders. Jared pushed her away to arms length, "Andie, please don't take what I say next the wrong way, but we can't do this. You aren't ready for it." Andie pulled her arms from his grasp, "How do you know what I am and am not ready for? Do you read minds now, too?"

"It would be so much easier if I did. He mumbled, as Andie rolled off of him. "Come on, Andie, please. Let's go on an adventure, I'll take you climbing! We both need to clear our minds. It's taking a lot of energy to turn you down, trust me."

Andrea threw her arms up in surrender, "Fine! Let's go climb a fucking mountain." Andrea shouted sarcastically, making Jared chuckle. She cut her eyes and glared at him.

Jared gripped her chin between his thumb and index finger, "Look at me!" He commanded. She lifted her eyes to his, "Knock it off, Andrea. Lighten up a little or I'll bend you over my knee and spank your ass raw." Jared watched as Andrea squirmed slightly, her eyes lighting up with excitement.

"Good girl." He breathed, planting a kiss on her lips.

Thanks to Jared's teaching skills, Andrea's first attempt to climb was a success. A small, but challenging task as a beginner, she sat perched atop the cliff side and watched Jared make his last couple of moves to ascend to the top. He sat beside her and watched the sun fade away and the moon rise over the valley.

"What has been your favorite part of the trip so far?"

Jared smiled, "It's been a great week. Seeing where you grew up, meeting your family. Throwing you against that wall and kissing you."

"I told you I'm an orphan. That wasn't my family." Jared rolled his eyes, "Whatever. You look just like your dad. They're great. Embrace the crazy." He nudged her arm, "What's been your favorite part so far?

Andrea tapped her finger on her jaw and hummed, "First, I must say the fact that we have survived almost two thousand miles in a car together without strangling each other is wonderful. I think we really have a shot at working together."

"You ignored me for the first ten hours!"

"You almost kissed me and then apologized for it! That hurt my feelings, Jared! Then you throw me against the wall and kiss me like I've never been kissed. What happened right after that and again earlier today. You're giving me whiplash!

"I love sleeping with you. You know, I've not done that in years." Andie's face showed her confusion, so Jared continued, "Slept beside someone. They always left afterwards. I didn't want to have that kind of intimacy with any of them."

"This is exactly what I'm talking about by the way. You push and then pull. Back and forth. You drive me insane!"

She pulled her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, resting her chin on her knees. Jared remained silent. "I really like it too, by the way. Waking up snuggled into you doesn't suck."

"We have to figure this out, J. Before we start working together. Maybe we should end, whatever this is before it begins."

Jared adjusted his cap, turning it around backwards, before looking at her, "Is that what you want, Andrea?"

"What do you want?" Andrea asked, "I want you to answer my question."

Andrea bounced her knee against the rock nervously, "I want to be someone's best friend, the love of their life. The reason they stay faithful. Someone to fight and then make up with. Their everything. Someone that I can take care of and that will take care of me. Someone that will love me when I'm being a moody pain in the ass. A man that knows what I need even when I don't." Andrea sighed, "I'll probably die a virgin, I'm too fucking complicated."

Jared wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer, "You are complicated, I'll give you that. Sassy, moody, and yeah, even a major pain in the ass more often than not. But I have enjoyed every minute of the days we've spent together thus far. As far as the other things you just said, you deserve each and every one of them.  When you find him, he will be the luckiest bastard in the entire world."

Andrea giggled and gave Jared a peck on the cheek. She cupped his face in her hands, gently scratching her fingers through his short beard watching him smile, "You deserve those things too, you know that, right Jared? Because sometimes you act like you don't."

"I'm starting to." He said, staring into her eyes, running his thumb down the side of her face and across her bottom lip.

Andie bit her lip and smiled, "Let's get off this rock before I fall to my death."

Jared stood and pulled Andie to her feet. "No worries, follow me." He led her across to the other side of the rock to a smooth trail. Andrea looked at Jared, "I'd hit you if my arms didn't hurt so bad. This was here and we climbed up instead of walking up?"

"Tell me you didn't enjoy challenging yourself." Jared laughed. "I hate you." Andie chuckled and took off down the trail.

Jared decided to celebrate his birthday in a low key fashion, so they stayed two more days. They hiked daily and spent their evenings relaxing in the hammock reading before heading back to LA.

It was New Year's Eve and Andrea was invited to a party being held for Jared's employees. She put on her favorite slinky red dress and headed off to Jared's.

It was just before nine when she arrived and let herself in. Shayla was the first familiar face she encountered, "Andrea! Wow, you look great, love that dress!"

"Thanks! It's old, but a favorite." The girls sat on the couch catching up on life. "Are you excited to get started working?"

"I really am! I have a lot to learn, but I love a challenge. Are you thirsty? I'm going to get a drink." Andrea stated.

"No, I'm good thanks, just had a glass of Jamie's punch, it's delicious!" Shayla replied. "Oh, punch sounds good! I'm going to get some. See you in a bit."

Four glasses of punch later, Andrea is dancing the night away with Jamie and Shayla when she noticed Jared watching from the corner. Andrea finished her punch and sashayed over to Jared.

She wrapped her arms around his wrists and pulled him into the hall. "Hello, handsome." Andrea purred, her lips centimeters from Jared's. She pushed a kiss on his lips, her tongue darted out, gliding along his lower lip before she bit down gently. "Hello, beautiful." Jared moaned, his hands instantly on her hips.

Andrea continued her sensual attack, nibbling along his jawline to his ear. Her tongue laved at the hollow of his neck before she moved to his clavicle and bit down. Jared hissed, then groaned when Andrea latched her mouth to his skin, distracting from the pain.

Desire flooded her veins, she wanted him, all of him. Dropping to her knees right there in the hallway, her face nuzzled into Jared's crotch. "You smell good" She muttered, her mouth sucking and kissing on him through his jeans. Jared panted, "Fuck, Andrea!" and pulled her by the nape of her neck. He crashed his lips to hers. "How much have you had to drink?"

"I haven't had any alcohol," she stated firmly, "just punch all night. It's so good!"

Jared instantly knew Andrea was wasted and picked her up over his shoulder. He carefully climbed the stairs and entered his bedroom. Laying her on the bed gently, he removed her shoes. Andrea spread her legs wide, her dress slid up her legs revealing her red thong. Jared bit his lip cursing internally as she moaned and touched herself. "Jared please, please make love to me."

He attempted to put her legs together, but she maneuvered quickly, catching him off guard, pulled him to her chest and wrapped her long legs around him. Andrea kissed him fervently, grinding her hips into his moaning his name.

"Mmm, J. I love your lips, they're so perfect. I bet they'd feel amazing on my pussy!" She giggled. Jared closed his eyes and groaned, getting lost in that thought and her for a moment before he snapped out of it. "Baby, stop! You're wasted. We can't do this as much as I fucking want to." He growled forcing himself off of her body.

Andrea started sobbing, "You don't want me, I knew it!" She yelled.

"Andrea, you couldn't be more wrong, I do want you. But I want you to be sober and realize what you're saying. It would be wrong to have you this way. You've had too much to drink, baby. Go to sleep, I'm right here." He settled back into bed beside her listening to the beat of the music downstairs as he watched her, "Hey, you just called me Baby." She smiled, drifting off to sleep.

Jared kissed her forehead, "Happy New Year, baby."

[citruspeel]

undercover [6/6 (end)]

Lazy afternoons were Gin’s favorite. Especially when he’s drinking strawberry milk and lazing around reading JUMP. ...what? Did you expect some action with undercover courtesan Tae? You probably did, didn’t you? Gin did too, but lazy afternoons were all he got...

...so far.

--

[gintama fan fiction]

[gintoki x otae]

[2k++, final part]

Intro + Illustrations | Part 1 + Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

-

Tae tried not to stare at him as she continued folding her way through their pile of freshly laundered clothes. The amount was more than usual - Gin and Kagura had been staying over at their house for a week, and were to stay for one more for what Hijikata had described as ‘post-op detailed security.’

After the ruckus that was her undercover oiran stint, she understood how anyone would want to get her killed. 

“Eeeeh…”

Tae blinked; Gin’s voice brought her back to the present. It was hard to believe how he could calmly slurp up strawberry milk while reading JUMP, with nary a care, when just the other day he was stuffing a wig down Takasugi’s throat.

She felt her cheeks redden. Memories of that night always made her stomach hitch.

When Gintoki had barged into the room, she was still reeling from thinking about him as Takasugi had his way with her. He looked irritated, to say the least. An unspoken history between him and Takasugi also seemed to intensify this irritation. He addressed their target with utter contempt – maybe she wasn’t the only reason Gin was so incensed.

“Look, you fucking edgelord,” she remembered him starting. She found it hard to concentrate with her heart wanting to leap to her throat. She knew Gin had said something before he unceremoniously threw his wig to Takasugi’s face, but in the resulting brawl, she never did hear it. Tae did, however, as she fished behind a divider for her naginata, catch what he said afterwards.

“See, this is why that courtesan before said you weren’t fun,” Gin said, meeting Takasugi’s sword blow after blow. The floor creaked under them as they maneuvered throughout the room. “You can’t even tell when a girl likes what you’re doing or not!”

Takasugi smirked as he parried. “Why? Would you know how our courtesan here likes it?”

Gin scoffed as he swung, his foot stomping down on the pristine futon to ground himself. “Of course I do! When she likes it, she doesn’t freeze – she melts into you – ”

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU SAYING, GIN-SAN?!”

Takasugi had staggered backward as Gin’s shoulder received the full blunt end of Tae’s naginata. Gin lost his balance and landed on the futon, eyes widening in surprise as Tae pinned him down with her weapon and a foot on his chest. She had done it out of anger (what did he mean, melt?!), but the sight of him gaping up at her, now also blushing beet red at remembering what he said, made heat flood all the way to her fingertips.

“Oh, I see,” Takasugi coughed out. Gin and Tae both prickled at his voice. They turned towards him, ignoring the small, tinny chorus of protests coming from Gin’s earpiece.

But before they could silence him, Takasugi stumbled backwards, falling to the floor with a thud.

“The alcohol, it’s –”

She never got to finish her sentence. Gin took the chance to slither from her grasp and pin down Takasugi, trying to shove the itchy wig down his mouth.

A rumble soon followed. As Gin and Takasugi fought over the wig, Kagura had appeared and yanked Okita out of the panel at the back of the room. The captain had been idly sitting, ever the spectator, chewing gum as he watched the ‘live show’ unfold. However, before Hijikata and Shinpachi could arrive, Takasugi’s liaison agent had entered, knocked Gin out with his guitar and immobilized them all with strings.

She couldn’t forget the last look Takasugi had thrown her way before his assistant led him away. He looked amused, even interested, as he glanced from her to the unconscious Gin.

What did he say…?

“Eeeh,” Gin’s voice again snapped her back to the present. She looked up from Shinpachi’s clothes and saw him eyeing her, head propped up on a hand, body splayed out on the ledge like a cat basking in the sun. He pushed around the milk carton’s straw across his lips with his tongue. “What’s the matter with you?”

She watched him let go of the straw and lick the corners of his mouth clean of strawberry milk.

Tae bristled.

“N-nothing.”

He raised his eyebrows as he scanned her from head to toe. “You’re red.”

Tae pursed her lips together and went back to folding.

“Don’t tell me…were you thinking of Takasugi?” Gin sat up and scooted next to her, unabashedly studying her face.

“What?” Tae avoided his eyes and reached for another shirt to fold. “Of course I’m not.” If you only knew who I was thinking about –

“You did kiss that shorty.” He clucked his tongue. “Don’t tell me he’s better than me. He even asked us once if kissing was like drinking out of a Yakult bottle.”

“Well, how should I know if you’re better?” She shrugged. “All you did was a…peck.”

“A peck?” Gin narrowed his eyes. “How was that a peck?”

Tae didn’t know what she was saying, but she let it all spew out anyway. “You did leave after just one kiss, Gin-san. You’re lucky Takasugi-san didn’t push further, or else he would’ve known you were a terrible teacher.”

Gin said nothing. He only propped his elbow on the table, rested his head on his hand and stared at her in disbelief. She could tell he was waiting for her to look at him, but she resisted. A part of her feared what he (she?) might just do.

“Terrible, huh.”

Tae took a deep breath; an unease was starting to settle over the two of them, a tension that she didn’t know how to resolve. It didn’t help that she couldn’t remember what it was that Gin had said when he had barged in. Was it linked to that? He did know she was just teasing, right? 

“Yes.” She gulped a lump in her throat. Why was she still going along with this? “You were absolutely terrible, Gin-san.”

Gin nodded slowly to himself as he watched her. 

“Oh well, maybe I should take back what I said.” He then leaned back on his hands and shrugged.

“What did you say?”

He raised his eyebrows in disbelief. 

“…you didn’t hear me?”

“No. You threw your wig and it whizzed past me, so I never heard it.”

“Sucks to be you. I’m not going to repeat it.” He crawled on his arms halfway to reach his unfinished JUMP, which he left out on the ledge, but her hand clamped down immediately on his wrist.

“Ahh!!” Gin yelped. “Just what the hell are your hands made of?!”

“I’m just giving you a little massage,” she smiled as kneeled beside Gin, tightening her hold on Gin’s wrist. His hands were just a few inches shy from getting the magazine. “A little thank you for repeating what you said.”

Gin writhed against her grip, but she didn’t relent. He looked up at her, shrugged, then used his full strength to flip their hands and trap hers under his. The movement caught her unaware and sent her toppling over him as he laid on his back on the floor, hand still pinning hers.

“I said,” he murmured, voice low. He knocked his head back to look her fully in the eye as she loomed over him, her brown hair glowing gold in the sun as it cascaded over her shoulder. “You were something I didn’t want to share.”

Tae didn’t know if it was the sunlight or his words that made her nerves flood with warmth. She felt her hand go limp in his as Gin’s eyes bored into hers. She was at a loss on what to do; her heart was raging against her chest, her mind going blank, her face blushing bright.

“I…”

Words left her as he cupped her cheek and pulled her down to him. His lips were soft and warm, like the afternoon sun. His kiss felt like a memory she’d want to relive over and over again.

At their parting, his eyes were on her, dazed, astonished. His thumb grazed the edge of her lip and rested at the corner of her mouth. Tae felt like there were thousand thoughts behind his gaze; it was strange, for she only had one.  

His eyes locked into hers, searching, asking. His lips were slightly parted, as if he had a question he couldn’t voice out. She blinked at him, once, twice, slowly, her free hand holding her up over him as she breathed in to calm herself. It was impossible; the lack of distance between them made electricity thrum across her skin. She could feel him tense under her, his muscles bristling under his clothes as he watched her, waiting with bated breath. Words wanted to tumble out of her mouth, but before she could speak, her body answered for her.

She leaned down and placed a feather-soft kiss onto his lips. It was light, shy, curious – an answer to his silent question. She felt him relax under her, felt him smile against her lips. He broke away from her but kept his forehead on hers.  

 “Terrible, huh?” he murmured.

 “Yes,” she replied, her mouth a hair’s breadth away from his. “Very terrible.”

He took his time when he kissed her again. She was taken by surprise as to how his leisurely pace, claiming her lips with his own in repetition, was awakening a want inside her. It was a need that crackled dangerously down her spine. His fingers were lost into her hair as he reached up to tilt her head. Her heart quickened as he pressed the tip of his tongue against her lower lip, begging entry; her hand grasped at what she could as he slowly, tortuously, ran his tongue against her own. Tae didn’t know how her body withstood – he ignited her nerves in a way they had never been before.

Strawberry milk would never be the same, now that the taste of it in his mouth was spreading a heat that invaded her to her fingertips. It was a wonder how he made her feel both weak and invigorated at the same time. Soon, she learned his trade and met his kiss with matching fervor. She let herself melt into him again as he pulled her close, clutching loosely at his arm and shoulder as his hand found purchase by her waist.

He broke away. In a rustle of fabric, he moved to trap her between him and the floor. Their breathing sounded loud in the silence of the afternoon. Tae wondered if they should stop - the door was wide open, after all - but Gin wasted no time in taking her breath away. Soon, his lips were on her again, peppering her jaw with soft, lingering kisses.

She aimed to say his name, to make him pause, to help her regain her sanity, but only a small gasp escaped her. He had brought his attention to the base of her ear and was gently dragging his lips across her sensitive skin. Her grasp on his arms tightened; she was surprised at the touch. She felt him grin at his discovery, which he teasingly repeated to his desired reaction.

Gin’s hand gently held her nape to keep her accessible as he went on with his ministrations. His other hand covered hers, large, warm, comforting, grounding her back down to earth as his mouth took its time. Her heart rallied, beating fast, seemingly unable to keep up with the whirlwind of sensation. Her mind wheeled to and fro as her hand traveled up to his hair, grasping, as if he was her remaining hold on reality.

This is bad.

She could hardly think of anything else. The sliver of afternoon light that crossed into the room gave him a glow, making him unearthly – almost devilish – as he rose from the crook of her neck and held her gaze with heavily-lidded eyes. He traced her lower lip with his thumb before kissing her again - soft, warm, deep, slow - somehow unlocking a thirst within her that she felt only he could satisfy – 

“Aneue!”

“Anego! Gin-chan! We’re home!”

“Woof!”

 “…goddammit.”

 -

In the weeks afterward, it was decided that Operation Oiran was a failure. 

Hijikata assured her that it was his bosses’ fault that the operation had failed, and that she shouldn’t feel bad about the loss. It was their lack of foresight that brought the mission down. Okita jokingly said that it was entirely Gin’s fault, which led to Kagura kicking his ass for even daring to say that about Gin, even if he was right. Shinpachi went straight to Kondo and reprimanded him for even trying to pull Matsudaira’s crazy plan off, while Kondo cried and begged for forgiveness.

“We never should have agreed, Aneue,” Shinpachi said as he and his sister climbed up the steps to the Yorozuya. “The danger they put you in! I swear, that Gorilla will have to pay for this…”

 His words went in one ear and out the other. Tae found that it was hard to concentrate when, as they entered, Gintoki was sitting by his desk, feet up and crossed, drinking strawberry milk straight from the carton.

“Yo,” he said lamely, mouth still on the carton’s lips. Shinpachi shook his head, disappointed, saying his usual greetings out of habit before going to the kitchen to find Kagura.

Gin’s eyes gleamed at her.

“So, do you regret it?” He asked, placing his feet back on the floor and leaning forward onto his desk. Tae loomed over him as she placed her hands on the corners of his table. “Going undercover, and all that?”

Tae reached over and took the carton from his hands, taking a sip. The milk was sweet and tart, every drop a trigger.

“You know what?” she said, licking her lips. Gin smirked. “Not at all.”

   “ARE YOU FLIRTING WITH MY SISTER, GIN-SAN?! ARE YOU FLIRTING?!?!”

“Shinpachi, calm down, Anego and Gin were just...eyefucking -”

“Kagura-chan! Where did you learn that?! We, we weren’t - ”

“Not just with the eyes, Kagura, but we’ve also  - UOGH!”

“KATSURA WAS RIGHT, WASN’T HE? ANSWER ME, GIN-SAN! GIN-SAAAAAAAAAAAAAN”

-

A/N: Finally! Haha. What started out as a hurried piece of fanart became a ficlet, then became a 4-parter, which evolved into 6. Haha! It’s been a while since I wrote borderline smut LOL a chaptered fic. Was deciding against it at first but when you’ve got that nagging feeling, you just can’t let it go. It just badgered me to finish it. Here it is, lots of mistakes and 12k+ words later. :D

Huge thanks to the GinTae peeps for the encouragement and keeping the GinTae flame burning! Huhu you’re all too kind. 

Hope you enjoyed! Til the next fanfic, I guess? :D 

[haikyuu-imagines-and-others]

MAFIAYAZUKI AU SENARIOPLSPLSPLS WITH KYOUTANI (if you do Him), kurooand iwai WHERE THEIR CIVILLIAN GF HAS JUST BEEN CAPTURED BY TEIR RIVALS AND ONCE THey FIND THEM THEY ARE LIKE TREATING THEIR WOUNDSBRUISES ETC AND JUST BEING REALLY PROTECTIVE OVER THEM IN GENERAL AND THEY NOTICE HOW THE GIRL IS LIKE REALLY QUIET AND FLINCHES EVERY NOW AND THeN JUST PURE ANGSTFLUFF

Oh boy oh boy! Guns and blood? Yessssssss Yakuza is my SHIT! Well…. Anything with guns or general badass-ery is my SHIT! For this request… I felt like it would be REALLY long if I did both the action of them getting you back AND the aftercare… So for now… please accept just them getting you back…. Once I open the ask box, please feel free to spike in the second part of this request (the aftercare) and I’ll get my ass in gear and write it! Thanks for requesting, sweetie! - Admin Satori

Kyoutani Kentarou: *Don’t hate me Mad-dog! I’ve never written for you either T~T*

Rage was bubbling all across his body, making his chest feel too tight, feeling like if he inhaled just the slightest he’d explode with fury. Why hadn’t he been there? How the hell had you escaped his line of sight? Kyoutani felt a mixture of shame, guilt, and unrelenting, hell raising rage as he burst through the doors of his family’s rival - mowing them down easily with his assault rifle. They’d been caught by surprised - they’d only just stolen you that afternoon! And yet here Kyoutani was to get you back! They’d been expecting negotiations, not a goddamn bloody raid!

Blood splattered all over the rivaling family’s furniture, some even back splattering on his clothes and face - but he couldn’t give a damn. You’d been taken from him. Right in front of his goddamn face. He tossed aside the rifle once it clicked empty, reaching into the back of his waistband and pulling out a pistol, popping off a shot at his hip as a rival goon rushed him. During battles, during fights, during brawls like this - war like this - Kyoutani was laser focused on what was needed from him. He had a tendency to tune everything out and do as directed.

Only no one was directing him now.

The Mad Dog’s muzzle had been torn loose.

“Stop! Or I’ll shoot her.” Came a faux confident voice from the top of the manor’s stairs, causing Kyoutani’s eyes to flash up at the speaker. It was the youngest son of the rival family. Kyoutani couldn’t be bothered to remember the punks name, but he knew he was a little bastard who always tried to pull shit like this with the other families. The drama queen - the overlooked child. Said child gulped at Kyoutani’s piercing gaze, pressing the barrel of the gun against your temple as a show he was ‘serious’. “I’ll do it!” He yelled, hating that his voice broke.

Kyoutani glared at the boy, not giving you a spare glance. He knew you were hurt, beaten, bloody and crying… He knew if he so much as looked at you…. He’d lose his mind. He’d lose whatever little control he had over the situation. And while this boy didn’t understand the first thing about bluffing and threats…. Kyoutani couldn’t afford to mess up now… Not with your life on the line - not with a gun to your head.

“N-now… You’re going to turn around and walk right out of here… She’s mine, now, got it?” The boy nodded his head towards the front door that Kyoutani had bursted through not moments before. “You can just tuck your tail between your legs and go fuc-“

Pop.

You screamed and ducked away from the noise, closing your eyes tightly. There was a heavy thud as the boys body fell back onto the hardwood of the floor, and a few seconds later you could feel blood seeping into your shoes and socks as it puddled around the two of you. You sobbed and reached up, covering your face, trying not to think about what had just happened - all because you’d strayed just a little too far from your boyfriend. If you’d stayed by his side…. You wouldn’t be sitting in a growing puddle of mixed blood.

“Are you okay?” A rough voice pierced your thoughts and made you jump in surprise, in fear, away from the owner of it.

You braced yourself and held up your arms in an X formation, a form of defense, “NO!” You cried out. You peeked open an eye to see it was Kyoutani, your boyfriend, the love of your life staring at you with warm golden eyes - he’d started to reach out to you, but had flinched back at your defensive maneuver.

“Shh…. It’s okay… I’m not going to hurt you… I promise…” He whispered, and the tender tone of his voice made you reach out and wrap your arms around his neck, burying your face in his shoulder and sobbing your heart out to him. Kyoutani felt his heart breaking in his chest, and he pushed away the remaining rage; You needed him right now. You needed him…. He’d just have to take care of the rest of the family once he was sure you were safe and taken care of. “Come on, _____…. Let’s go home…” He murmurs quietly, slowly wrapping his arms around you, one arm under your bottom to support your weight while his other rested on the side of your face. You realized he was shielding you from the heinous scene of death he’d caused. The destruction he’d singlehandedly brought to the rival’s outpost.

Kuroo Tetsurou:

Kuroo ducked behind a pillar as a barrage of bullets rained down on him, and he closed his eyes tightly, feeling the few cuts of close calls still burning with pain. “Fucking bastards….” He growled lowly before doing quick pop shots of the rival’s goons, taking one out with a headshot before ducking back behind his cover, and doing the same trick until the 5 of them were dead. Inhaling sharply, he rushed from the pillar to just behind an overturned table, rummaging around the dead goon’s bodies for anything of use - bullets, knives, information, anything. “They should fucking know better…. Off limits means off fucking limits.” He hissed.

“Do you really think I give a damn, Tetsu?”

“Fuck you!” Kuroo yelled, popping his head up from behind his cover before ducking again as more bullets were shot at him, “Why don’t you get rid of your little army and we can talk like real men!” He called to the second son of his family’s rival gang - Hisao.

The young man laughed, “I’m not a fucking idiot, Tetsu. You gotta show a little effort if I’m going to put out.” Kuroo was about to pull out one of his favorites, a flash bang, when Hisao tutted, “Ah, ah, ah - Old Tetsu isn’t going to be using the flashy grenade now is he? I don’t think little girlie here would much appreciate that. Such pretty eyes~! Would be a shame if she suddenly went blind… Or worse.” He mused happily, and immediately Kuroo was pulling his hand back from the grenade.

“Get her out of here, Hisao, and I promise your death will be quick.” Kuroo scooted to the edge of the table, glancing around the edge to see three more of the family goons were aiming their rifles at where he’d popped his head up just a few seconds ago.

“Oh? Is that so?” The young man smiled warmly, “Ah, I think I’ll be fine…. You old men are too slo-“

Pop. Pop. Pop.

Kuroo stood from his hiding place, smirking at the younger man, “What was that you were going to say, you little shit?” He asked smugly, walking closer to where Hisao stood with you on your knees in front of him.

Hisao held up his own gun right at Kuroo’s head, raising an eyebrow, “Drop it…. And I’ll think about letting her look away when I blow your head off your shoulders.” He shrugged, impishly, not really caring either way - but knowing he’d be held to the highest regard if he took out the only son of his family’s rival. No longer would he be frowned upon. He’d be calling the shots. “What a good kitty.” He hummed happily when Kuroo did as he was told, sliding his pistol over to where he stood, “Now…. Get on one knee…. And pledge to me your allegiance, like a good peasant.”

Kneeling on one knee, Kuroo was only a few yards from you, his golden eyes met your confused eyes - how could he give up his weapon so easily? You felt tears well up and spill down your cheeks as you stared at him, begging him to do something, to fight back. A ghost of a smirk curled the corners of his lips, and he sent a quick wink your way. “Well? What? Old bastard didn’t hear me?” Hisao was so sure of his victory, he’d neglected to watch Kuroo carefully, neglected to see the sly cat’s hands.

“Ah… Of course… Hisao…. There’s no satisfaction in hell.” Kuroo hissed around his smirk as he tossed out his arm, three small daggers escaping his fingers and embedding themselves in Hisao’s neck. The young man stumbled backwards, shock in his eyes before his hands numbly reached up, pulling out one of the daggers from his neck. “Wounds 101, Hisao…. Never pull it out.” Kuroo tutted as he made his way to where you were on your knees, your back to Hisao.

The young man choked out an unintelligible reply, his action of pulling out the dagger causing his blood to flow freely from his severed artery. He bled out within minutes and his body’s heavy thud made you flinch and close your eyes tightly. Kuroo reached forward and pulled you against his chest, his right hand covering the side of your face, “Don’t look…” He whispered, his voice softer than before, gentle, knowing you’d seen too much today - you’d been too close to the fire that consumed his everyday life. And while he was too selfish to give you up… He didn’t want you having the image of a dead man in your mind forever.

Iwaizumi Hajime:

“This is some straight up bullshit.” Iwaizumi growled, feeling like his head was going to explode with the rush of adrenaline pumping through his system. He felt stronger than ever. Whether that was because your life was at stake or because he’d been given permission to kill your kidnappers was still undecided. Holding his pistol in one hand, he used his other to pull the belt off the dead man he was crouched next to - needing it as a tourniquet to slow the blood loss from the bullet holes in his arm and shoulder.

“Come now, Hajime! I’m only returning the favor for what your family did to my cousins a few weeks ago.” The voice of the first son of Iwaizumi’s family rival, Kin, only fueled his rage, it hadn’t even been Iwaizumi’s decision that time! That’d been his uncle’s choice to take out that outpost. And while his uncle was a badass of a Iwaizumi family member, he didn’t speak for every member of their family!

Iwaizumi closed his eyes tightly, taking a deep breath before he popped out from his hiding space, taking out two of the guards before he was shot in his other shoulder. He crouched down again, his free hand going to press against his wound, feeling like his body was on fire from the pain. “Fuck….” He hissed before checking his clip. Only 4 bullets left. “Fuck.” He looked up at the ceiling, praying for his aim to be on point; Your life depended on his aim. “Piece of shit!” Iwaizumi yelled as he popped back up, shooting the remaining guards before approaching Kin, using the gun as a bluff to get as close as possible.

“Ah, ah, ah…. Not another step.” Kin smiled, having his gun pointed at your head. You stared up at Iwaizumi, tears in your eyes - you’d been through so much pain. So much of your body was hurting. One of your eyes had swelled shut after you’d taken a beating from the goons, your bottom lip was split, and you were sure you had a minor concussion.

“H-Hajime…” You whimpered, your tears spilling over now, “I-it hurts…”

Your boyfriends dark green eyes flashed to Kin, and for a split second, Kin realized this was a mistake. Messing with the Iwaizumi family only meant destruction of his own. But there was no backing down now. Go big or die trying. “Let her go….” Iwaizumi’s voice was low, almost quiet, but the strain of it didn’t go unnoticed by Kin.

Kin raised an eyebrow, “Why would I do that? She’s my new bride….” He smirked, glancing down at you before pressing the barrel of the gun to your temple, “Although… She’s very prudish… I’ll just have to make her into one of my whores after I’ve gotten rid of y- HEY!” Before Kin could realize what had happened, Iwaizumi had taken the opportunity of his eyes on you to chuck his emptied gun at Kin’s head before lunging at him. The two of them landed on the floor, Kin’s gun going off once, the bullet burying in one of the wooden pillars of the house, before the force of the fall caused Kin to let go - the metal of the gun scraping against the marble floor sealed Kin’s fate. Iwaizumi sat on top of his rival easily, bringing down his fists against the young man’s face - doing to him what had been done to you.

“H-Hajime! Stop! Please!” Your voice sounded distant to him, as if you were yelling down a long tunnel. He paid it no mind and continued to beat down on Kin, not even realizing that the young man had long since stopped fighting back. “Hajime!” A force against Iwaizumi’s back made him lean forward in surprise, and he quickly grabbed the arm that was around his neck before turning and raising a fist at whoever had attacked him now. You pulled your other arm above your head, cowering away from your boyfriend with eyes shut tight, your other arm still held hostage in his tight hold.

“____….” His voice was hoarse, but once he’d realized what it was he was doing, he immediately let go of your arm. You fell backwards onto your bottom, bringing your knees up to your chest and hiding your face in them - you’d been fine through the beating done by the goons… But just the mere thought of the love of your life hitting you terrified you. “_____.. I-I…. I’m so sorry…” Iwaizumi whispered, reaching towards you and flinching back when you leaned away. He looked down at his hands and realized they were stained with blood. His entire arm was covered in his own, and if he slowed down now… He was sure he’d start to feel dizzy from blood loss.

You noticed this. You saw his blood slowly pooling on the floor underneath him. He was in no condition to keep going. Steeling your nerves, you got to your feet, grabbing his unsure hand and pulling him behind you towards the entrance of the building. You weren’t doing too good either, your black eye gave you the worst depth perception, and every step you took felt like you were stepping on hot coals. White hot coals. But you’d walk through hell to make sure Iwaizumi was okay.

[mychemicalrachel]

Stiles and Derek meet at the club or something and it's love at first sight, but then Stiles spends weeks angry because Derek never called him, they meet later and it turns out that Stiles gave him his number wrong!

Thanks for the prompt!

Read it on Ao3.

Stiles didn’t believe in love at first sight. It was a load of shit. Sure, there was affection at first sight. Lust at first sight. But there was no way to see someone and immediately fall in love.

Well, at least that’s what he thought until he met Derek.

In the midst of a crowded club, with flickering purple and red and blue lights, the feeling of the music in his bones and beer in his stomach, Stiles flails through a sea of bodies to the bathroom. When he spots the line waiting all the way down the hall, he groans. His bladder aches. He could pee outside. Nobody would ever know. But he’d waited for thirty minutes before they’d even let him and Scott inside the club and if he goes outside now, he’ll have to stand in line all over again. Resigned, he falls into line with the other people waiting for the bathroom.

As he leans back against the wall, bouncing slightly on his heels, his gaze lands on a booth near the back of the club. Farthest away from the speakers, secluded. Seated alone in the booth, hunched over a book, is the hottest man Stiles has ever seen.

Almost without willing his feet to move, Stiles finds himself drawn to the man. For the moment, his urge to pee forgotten, his entire being is zoned in on this man.

Stiles slides into the booth opposite the guy. He looks up over the edge of his book, quirking one eyebrow silently.

Stiles grins. Now that he’s closer, he can see the book title. Stiles feels his heart nearly leap out of his chest. “Fucking marry me,” he says.

Something resembling a smile pulls at the stranger’s lips. “Excuse me?”

“Clockwork Orange.” Stiles nods unnecessarily toward the book in his hands “That’s my favorite book.”

The man puts his finger between two pages and lets the book fall closed. “Is it now?”

Stiles nods vigorously. He leans forward, his elbows resting on the table. “Oh absolutely. And though I would recommend everyone read it, the back of a club isn’t exactly ideal environment for that.”

The stranger laughs. The flashing lights catch his eyes and they seem to glow. He ducks his head shyly and Stiles falls a little bit in love. “I’m not a people person.” His eyes skim the dancefloor, settling on someone Stiles doesn’t care to see. “I’m here with my sisters. They needed a designated driver.”

Stiles nods, reaches his hand out across the table. “Well I am more than happy to keep you company. I’m Stiles.”

The hand that slides into his own is warm and calloused and it lingers enough to make Stiles’ skin tingle. “I’m Derek.”

They talk for a few more minutes before Stiles remembers what brought him to this part of the club in the first place. The line to the bathroom seems to have diminished and Stiles jumps up, hesitating before he goes. “Wait here,” he tells Derek. “Don’t leave yet. I’ll be right back.”

A smile pulls at Derek’s lips again. That damn smile. Yeah, Stiles is definitely head over heels for this guy. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And when Stiles returns from the bathroom, Derek is still there as promised. This time, though, a few girls have joined him at the table. Stiles approaches cautiously, unsure if he’s still welcome. But one of the girls looks up and beams. “Is this him?” Her voice is only a little slurred. “Derek, he’s cute!”

Derek looks up and Stiles could swear he sees a blush across his cheeks. Derek scoots over on the booth to make room for Stiles. As Stiles sits, he’s pretty sure his heart can be heard over the music. He’s pressed against Derek’s side, from shoulder to hip.

“I’m Laura!” The first girl shouts and gestures to the girl beside her. “And this is Cora! You know, I have been telling Derek that he needs to get laid, I am so glad he found you!”

Stiles face burns and he glances over to see Derek glaring at his sister. “Laura, stop talking.”

Laura waves him off with the swish of her hand. “Oh come on, Der-bear. Lighten up.” She grabs for a drink on the table, but Derek pulls it out of her reach.

“I think you two have had enough.”

Laura frowns at him. “Party pooper.”

Derek rolls his eyes.

“You’re gonna take the hottie home, right?” Cora asks, her words only a little clearer than Laura’s had been. She leans across the table, putting her hand up like she’s trying to whisper, and yells, “Did you see his ass!?”

“Okay, it’s time for you to go home,” Derek tells her. Stiles deflates, suddenly crushed by the idea that tonight has to end already. He’s not ready to tell Derek goodbye. But then Derek looks over at him. “Are you here with anyone?”

“Just my brother,” Stiles says dismissively, “and his girlfriend.”

Derek’s hands fidget with the corner of his book, looking nervous. “I could give you a ride, if you want.”

And yeah. Stiles definitely wants.

After dropping his sisters off at their shared apartment, Derek drives. Stiles isn’t sure he actually has a destination in mind, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t want to go home. Derek hasn’t asked where Stiles lives yet, so Stiles can guess he doesn’t want this to end either.

After a few minutes of silence, Derek clears his throat. “I’m not reading this wrong… right?”

Stiles glances over at him, but Derek is staring straight ahead. His jaw is tensed and his knuckles are white on the steering wheel. Stiles chews on his lip, contemplating how to handle this with tact, and decides fuck it. He presses the release on his seatbelt and leans over the center console. His hand comes to rest on Derek’s thigh, way too close to be just friendly, and he gives the best damn bedroom eyes he can manage.

Derek looks over at him, swallows hard, and nods. “Yeah, that clears things up.” He presses down on the gas peddle and turns the steering wheel, this time having a destination in mind.

They’re barely in Derek’s door before Stiles finds himself pinned against the wall with a tongue in his mouth. He’s got handfuls of hair and clothing and… too fucking much clothing. He pulls at Derek’s jacket and then his shirt, trying his best to de-clothe them without breaking the kiss because if he’s being honest it’s the best damn kiss Stiles has ever had.

“Hey,” Derek murmurs softly, slowing the kiss and taking hold of Stiles’ hands. “Wait.”

Immediately, Stiles pulls back. “What’s wrong?”

Derek smiles and presses a chaste kiss to Stiles’ waiting lips. “Nothing’s wrong. I was just thinking we should go to the bedroom. Or at least the couch.”

Stiles finds himself nodding. “Yes. Both. Either. I don’t care. I just want to kiss you again.”

Derek turns to study the apartment. “Couch,” he decides with a smirk. “And then maybe the bedroom after that.”

And Stiles likes that idea. He claims a seat on the couch while Derek turns the TV on, finding something random on Netflix. A documentary about wolves, it looks like, but Stiles isn’t paying much attention when Derek sits down next to him. They kiss for what seems like hours, slow and lazy like they’ve known each other forever. There’s groping and grinding and Stiles ends up straddling Derek’s lap with Derek’s hand down his jeans, their foreheads pressed together.

They move to the bedroom soon after that, where Stiles takes his time undressing Derek, kissing every available inch of him.

When they fall asleep, cradled together like lovers, Stiles’ last conscious thought is that he is going to fucking marry this guy one day.

When Stiles wakes up, it’s past noon and he is so fucking late for work. He’s scrambling for the clothes he lost last night when Derek blinks, watching him with tired eyes. “Are you leaving?”

His hair is unkempt and his voice is rough. Stiles wants nothing more than to climb back into bed with him and never leave. But he can’t.

“I have work,” Stiles says. He almost trips trying to pull his jeans on. “My dad is going to kill me.”

Derek raises an eyebrow. “Your dad?”

“I work with him,” Stiles explains, and puts his shirt on backwards. He pulls his phone out of his pocket to six thousand missed calls, from his partner and his dad. “He’s my boss. And I am so late. Shit, I am in so much trouble. I had a lot of fun. Like, a lot. And I swear I’m not one of those guys that runs out the next morning but I really really have to go.”

“Can I call you?” The hopeful look in Derek’s eyes makes Stiles think about calling in sick and just staying here forever.

“Yes. Fuck yes.” Derek sits up and finds a pen in the nightstand drawer, handing it to Stiles. Stiles scribbles his number across Derek’s palm and then kisses him. “Call me.”

“I will,” Derek says, but Stiles doesn’t hear him. He’s already running out of the apartment.

Stiles is late for work. Of course he is. His dad is frowning when he races into the station, an apology coffee in hand. His dad takes the coffee, but keeps the frown. “I’ve been calling you for hours. I even had Scott go by your place, he said you hadn’t been there all night.”

Stiles grimaces. He hooks his badge in place on his uniform and says, “I know. I went home with someone else last night.”

John raises an eyebrow at that. “You went home with someone?”

Stiles blushes and his dad raises his hands, shaking his head. “I don’t care, Stiles. You’re twenty-three years old. You’re an adult, you can do whatever you want in your own time. But you’re also a deputy and this morning you were two hours late for your shift.”

“I know,” Stiles groans. “And I am sorry. It will not happen again.”

“Damn right it won’t.” John sips at his coffee and frowns some more. “This coffee sucks. Call your partner, apologize to her, and then sit your ass at a desk and do some paperwork.”

“Dad, you can’t do that,” Stiles argues. “I need to be on patrol. Not desk duty.”

“Show some damn responsibility and you can have patrol back,” John snaps. “For now, you have reports to file.”

Stiles waits three days for Derek to call him before he starts to panic. He had fun with Derek. He enjoyed Derek’s company. Not just the sex, but the conversation. And he thought Derek felt the same. But if Derek felt the same, wouldn’t he call?

Stiles works extra hard at the station to keep his mind off things. Derek probably got busy. Or maybe he’s nervous about calling. He just needs to give it a little more time.

By the time three weeks pass, Stiles has given up all hope. He knows how to take a hint; no call from Derek means Derek just wasn’t interested. And Stiles is a big boy. He can accept rejection. But it sucks and he’s resigned himself to sulking.

Standing in line at a coffee shop is the last place Stiles thought he would run into Derek again. It’s crowded this early in the morning, but the whole place is silent save for the spoken orders and the machines behind the counter. Stiles calls this zombie hour, when everyone is still half asleep and waiting to be caffeinated.

Stiles doesn’t recognize him at first, standing behind the counter. He’s wearing glasses now, perched on the end of his nose that he pushes up every few minutes. Those glasses do something to Stiles and he bites his lip to keep from thinking those kinds of thoughts in public.

He doesn’t want this confrontation. He wonders if he could slip out of the coffee shop unnoticed and book it to the Starbucks on the corner before work. But then he realizes he’s at the front of the line, coming face to face with the best night of his life.

“What can I get y–” Derek’s word trail off as he looks up. “Stiles.”

And Stiles knows he should just order his drink and leave, but an inexplicable rush of anger and sadness fills him. “You never called me.”

Derek simply blinks at him, his eyes wide behind his glasses. “What?”

More anger fills him. “You never fucking called me, you asshole. If you didn’t want to see me again, you could have just told me that.”

He furrows his brow and shakes his head in a jerky motion. “I did call. The number you gave me was–”

“Hale!” Someone calls from behind Derek’s shoulder. “What’s the holdup? We’ve got a line!”

Derek huffs out a breath through flared nostrils. “What can I get you today?”

“Americano, large.” Stiles says.

When Derek hands over the cup, his fingers brush Stiles’. He leans forward and says, “I can go on break in ten minutes. Please, just let me explain.”

And so Stiles finds an empty table and stares into his coffee. Ten minutes later, as promised, Derek is claiming the empty seat across from him. Without preamble, Derek says, “The number you gave me was fake.”

“It was not fake,” Stiles counters. “Why the hell would I give you a fake number?”

Derek shrugs, like he’s asked himself the same question a thousand times. “Some lady named Angela answered. She thought I was her grandson and I was on the phone with her for two hours, Stiles. Two hours.”

Stiles is shaking his head. “No, no. I didn’t give you a fake number. I waited three weeks for you to call me back.”

Derek takes out his cell phone and scrolls through his history before setting it down for Stiles to see. “This is the number you gave me.”

Stiles leans forward, frowning when he sees where it went wrong. “That nine, it’s supposed to be a four.”

Derek makes no move to take his phone back. “Did you really think I wouldn’t call you?”

Stiles scoffs. “Did you really think I would give you a fake number?”

Derek laughs softly. “We’re both kind of dumbasses, huh?”

“Yeah,” Stiles agrees. He grabs Derek’s phone, typing in his correct number and sending a text to himself. His own phone beeps with the new alert. “There. Now you have my number, and I have yours. Call me. For real this time. I have to get to work.”

Derek nods, a blush creeping onto his cheeks when he says, “So you’re a cop.”

“I even have my own handcuffs,” Stiles says, winking. But when Derek blushes harder, Stiles realizes he’s hit a freaking goldmine. “Holy shit, you’re into bondage.”

Derek just glares at him.

“It’s okay,” Stiles says, and leans in, lowering his voice. “I think I just realized I have a glasses kink.”

A smile stretches across Derek’s face. “We have some negotiating to do.”

“Maybe after dinner?” Stiles offers.

Derek leans across the table to press a soft kiss to Stiles’ lips. “It’s a date.”

[oh-my-otome]

I just thought of a sinful ask.... Could you possibly do the DTl suitors reaction to walking in on MC touching herself????? (🙈 sorry if it's too much!)

Yamazaki: “How sneaky.”

You jump when you hear his voice in your ear.

You had thought you were being quiet enough, having managed to moan his name with as little sound as possible. it could hardly even be considered a sigh. And for all of your trembling, you were sure that it wouldn’t have been enough to wake him– you had even scooted toward the edge of the futon so as to not bother him, but you can’t out-stealth a ninja after all.

“Do go on, though.”

His breath on your neck carries the same tingling sensation as if he traced his fingers across the length of it, and you cry out for the first time, rolling over onto your back.

“Don’t let me stop you.”

You can’t see his eyes in the darkness, but somehow you can feel them on you, burning into you with the same heat as if he were actually touching you, mapping out all of your favorite places. Grasping at you with that gentle desperation of his that drives you wild.

You want him to do it. You want to feel his hands on you. You open your mouth to ask.

“Just like that.”

You hadn’t realized how quickly your hands were moving until you inadvertently brush against the place that he always seems to find so effortlessly, and his name tears from your mouth on a broken moan.

You can hear him chuckle, a darkly satisfied sound, as he presses a kiss to your forehead, careful not to touch any other part of you. You know for a fact that his eyes, trained for darkness, can see you shivering as well as if the room were bathed in sunlight.

Once again you open your mouth to beg for him, but nothing comes out, the sound snatched by your desire, as your breathing syncs with the rhythm of your hand.

“Do it like how I taught you.”

He gets to his knees, perching over you, and you groan in frustration at how he once again makes absolutely sure not to touch you. You can feel the heat of his body, like a taunting phantom. So close.

They’re not his hands, but they’re just as good. And as the pleasure begins to claw at you, he falls upon you like a shadow, bringing his lips to yours, stealing every silent cry from your mouth.

Kondo: He came into your roomto tell you about…something. It might have been really important. It mighthave been nothing at all. He really can’t remember, as he stands there with hishand on the sliding door and his mouth hanging open, his gaze locked on the back ofyour hand as it slips underneath the fold of your kimono.

With your long lashes, he can’t tell if your eyes arehalf-open or if they’re actually closed, and through the haze of his arousal,he knows he should turn away, or clear his throat to let you know he’s there.

He knows it, but his thinking is foggy and slow. There’sno command, no signal. The only thing he knows for sure is that he’s yours andyou’re there– right there, nearing the edge. Just one moretouch and you’ll fall.

But he’s nothing if not considerate. He’s never shown youany disrespect before, and he’s not about to do it today. With thatrealization comes the delayed command, dull and hazy, to step backwards out ofthe room and to slide the door closed as quietly as possible.

It slides along the track so quietly that he can hear thewhisper of your kimono over the noise it makes, the fabric sliding off of yourshoulder. He can imagine it gloriously puddled beneath you, and he trains hiseyes on the floor even though he wants nothing more than to see you spiralinginto bliss.

If you bring yourself there, do you tremble in the sameway as if it were his own hands?

Do you make the same face? Are you calling for him inyour head in that same breathless manner?

Now is not the time.

As he steps out into the hall, with the door almostclosed, his hand nearing the jamb, he hears his answer as you call his name ona strained sigh so exquisite that he shudders.

“Kondo,” you breathe, “aren’t you coming in?”

Todo: He walked in, saw you,and then immediately walked right out again, closing the door in a stupor.

But that didn’t stop you, and he can hear you calling hisname, asking him to come and join you, with a teasing lilt in your voice. The is tone mockingly familiar– the same way that he usually teases you.

It’s not so amusing, now.

When your voice hitches higher, he presses his back tothe closed door, shutting his eyes as he tries to behave.

As he leans his head back against the door, he canimagine what you’re doing, and his eyes pop open when he realizes that he’sslipped his own hand underneath his collar, as his fingers trace along his chest and up against his throat, echoing the movements he saw you make, just moments ago.

Kyo: It’s been one lateshift after another, and Kyo’s had more than enough. He managed to drag himselfthrough the streets of Kyoto, all the way back to Shiki, and after groaning atthe fact that he’d have to climb a set of stairs after all of that, he managedto get himself up to the second floor and into the bath.

Feeling refreshed, he begins rummaging through his thingsas he gets ready for bed. There’s a pleasant feeling of warmth rolling throughhim after a good long soak.

Pleasant enough to make his eyes droop, so he can catchup on some much-needed sleep. But he feels nostalgic in his exhaustion, and hesuddenly craves a piece of home– a tangible slice of comfort before he driftsoff. 

Not finding his favorite hoodie, he knocks on your door,but receives no answer. Assuming that you’re asleep, he lets himself in– andstops immediately.

The sight of you on thefuton is almost too much for him, and his gaze seems to track everything all atonce: 

Theway your back is arched, and how your chest rises and falls. How your hair islike a waterfall spilling over the pillow, and across the side of the futon,the very ends of it almost touching the floor. The glint of the moonlight onyour skin, like a sheer covering, making your faint sheen of sweat almostglitter. 

His hoodie is the only thing you’re wearing, and it’s big– sobig –and yet somehow so perfect.

You call for him, and he’s at your side in an instant,but when you reach out for him, he shakes his head.

“Senpai, show me what you would do, if I weren’t here.”

Okita: Now you’ve gone anddone it. He slid open the door to his room and saw you on your haunches, likethat, and the shock caused him to drop his sword.

His sword! 

He steps right over it, though, as he makes his way tothe futon, half-aware that his breath seems to be coming out in pants. With aquestioning look in his eyes, he waits for you to nod your assent beforetouching all of the places your hands can’t reach, as you pick up where youleft off.

Hijikata: The two of youwere in the middle of an at-home date when Saito said he needed help withsomething. Although you hadn’t gotten past kissing, right then, you both knewwhere it usually led, so Hijikata didn’t mind what he assumed would be a smallinterruption. With a quick apology, he left to help out.

That was half an hour ago.

Stomping back to his room, his footfalls heavy withirritation, he slams his door closed with the same force with which he openedit, and it’s not until he turns around that his bad mood dissipates.

You’re on your knees, facing away from him, your kimonobarely on, and he can tell from the sound alone where your hand is and whatit’s doing.

With a wild flick of your head, to move your hair out ofyour eyes, you peer back at him, meaning to ask him to hurry, but he’s alreadymarching toward you, pulling his clothes off as he goes.

Anchoring himself behind you, he brings your hipsstraight back into his.

“No more interruptions.”

Katsura: It was either asmart decision or a really stupid one, but when he returned with the groceries,and saw you with your top down, he snatched up Koma as if she was his onlypossession, screeched something about taking her for a walk, and slammed thedoor behind them with enough force to rattle the walls.

He’s been circling the block for a few minutes now, andevery now and then, he steals a glance up at the window, unsure of when heshould go back inside.

He’s struggling with his ingrained desire to always be polite, as wants to give you enough time to finish up, but at the same time, healso wants to be the one to ensure that you do– with his own hands. 

Okubo: He was a little thrownoff, but now he can hardly look away. Of course he knew you likely did thissort of thing, but he had never actually seen you do it.

He doesn’t know the proper protocol, so he doesn’t evenbother stepping forward to assist, nor does he move backward to the door, sohe’s left standing there in a daze as his brain slowly frazzles all of hisrational thoughts.

Yet somehow, in this awkward atmosphere, you’re feelingbold underneath his unwavering gaze, and it’s not until he snaps out of it anddrops to his knees beside you, that you wonder if it was too much for him after all.

But the more you wriggle around, the closer he gets toyou, his eyes following your every movement, and you bring your hand up to stophim, right as he leans over you.

You’ll take him later. Right now you want him to watch.

Haru: He’s completelyenthralled and has absolutely no filter. Sauntering in as if it were onlynatural, he lies right down and makes himself at home, resting an elbow on thefloor and his chin in his hand.

With his lips to your ear, he lowers his voice as heasks you to narrate every last dirty thought you’re having.

Yuki: He’s doing the best hecan to ignore what he saw, when he checked up on you in the dressing room. Asit is, he can barely concentrate on the sale he’s supposed to be closing.

On one hand, it’s a very important client, who just madea large custom order. On the other hand, you’re in the back dressing room, withthe top part of a kimono of his own design, slipping further and further downyour chest. 

Your hands were buried so well in the sumptuous fabric that he couldn’t be sure of what you were touching to make a face like that– and he desperately wants to know.

He’s kind of torn, and whether he tries to concentrate onthe customer, or figure out the reason for your (as far as he knows) suddeninterest in him, everything sounds like static when he tries to think for toolong.

The more he tries to get the customer to leave the shop, the more she sees that she wants to stay and talk about.

Even if she left right now, he doesn’t know what to do when he goes back tocheck on you.

He may have a reputation, but you’ve got him stumped.

Saito: He doesn’t know whathe’s done to deserve this, and he’s frantically wracking his brain to figure itout– so he can have this reward again.

He’s careful not to let anything show on his face, asusual, but his heart is beating so fast that he grasps the front of his kimono.

No, don’t look at him like that. Did you think he wasgoing to take it off, just then? Is that what you want? Because it’s what hewants, too, but he’s trying to pretend that he doesn’t notice what you’redoing, since you went to the trouble of not hiding your arousal, either.

As he sits down and picks up where he left off in thebook he was reading, every fiber of him is poised and ready, hoping you’ll saythe word.

Takasugi: He’s in thehabit of coming over late, after missions, and you’re usually asleep when hecomes into your room, so when he slipped under the covers, like usual, hedidn’t suspect a thing.

It wasn’t until your knee knocked against his side thathe realized what was going on, and now he’s laying there in the darkness,debating whether or not to pretend to be sleeping, or pounce as usual. 

Pounce, he decides, as he steals the surprised gasp from your lips. But he limits himself to just kissing, even as you beg him for more. 

He was never one to let an chance at teasing you slip through his fingers.

Keiki: “So. Which one of thenovels was it?” Keiki asks, settling back into the covers. 

You had stoppedabruptly, when he came back into the room, but Keiki only tutted at you, askingyou to resume as if he weren’t there.

You had laughed when he told you that he enjoys eroticnovels. Even found it cute that he had a small collection. 

But you hadsuccumbed to your curiosity that evening, which is how you ended up with himpeering down at you with a grin a little too self-satisfied for your liking.

“I thought you were above such books? Isn’t that what you said?”

As he turns you on your side, pressing your back againsthis bare chest, he urges you to continue on as you were, and you oblige, as he describesvarious love scenes from each book in great detail, inquiring after each one ifthat’s the passage that got you going.

Sakamoto: He’s croucheddown by the door he just closed, with his hands tangled in his hair. Does hejust wait for you downstairs in the restaurant? Should he go back in?

He didn’t really get a good look, but it was enough tocause an intense flash of both desire and embarrassment to chase themselvesthrough him. 

Should he just act cool? Leave a note and come backlater?

When you come downstairs, looking a little sheepish, heflies up from the chair he’d been sitting in, and wracks his brain forsomething light to say, to clear the mood.

“So…uh…have fun?”

‘Dammit.’

[goodlucktai]

the world is full of magic things (2/2)

i’ve seen lots of “natsume grows up and finds a child who can also see yokai and adopts them” and i love it and i’ve decided to toss my hat in the same ring, sorry

continuation of this series, which started with “never mind the bus fare” and might never end apparently ;;

“The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.” ― W.B. Yeats

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Satoru has witnessed Takashi get angry before, or so he thought.

But the look on his face when he hears what Satoru has to tell him about what led to a phone call from Susumu's teacher—when he sees Susumu sitting on the sofa with his head hung low, arms curled tightly around his knees—is almost unfamiliar.

He's never seen Takashi's eyes go quite so cold.

“He's pretty shaken up,” Satoru adds unnecessarily, sotto voce, as he glances toward the living room. “He was worried what you would say.”

“I see.” Takashi's voice is next to normal when he says, “Sensei? Would you mind?”

“Finally you get around to asking,” the fortune cat replies, climbing to its feet with a lot less fight than Satoru is used to when a chore is involved. Its eyes gleam a cold green, like the hard edge of a jewel. “I haven't gone hunting in quite some time.”

“Find out what it's doing here. It if it meant no harm, leave it be,” Takashi says, opening the kitchen window for Nyanko-sensei to climb through. “But if it tried to hurt my child, then I'll let you decide what should be done with it.”

Nyanko-sensei's feline grin stretches into something meanly pleased. He pauses on the sill, looking over his shoulder at the sad figure the youngest member of their household makes on the sofa, and says, “I'll take care of it, brat.”

“Be quick.”

Takashi leaves the window open just a crack when his cat is gone, watching it go until its out of sight.

And because Satoru knows him, he scoots a step closer to Takashi and reaches for his hand. Takashi turns in surprise, glancing down at their hands as Satoru winds their fingers together, and Satoru tells him, “You've probably already come up with like twelve ways to make this all your fault, but we literally don't even know what happened yet.”

Takashi has the good grace to look a little abashed. Heartened by the reaction where part of him was worried he'd be met with an emotional recluse, Satoru walks backwards towards the living room and pulls his husband with him, smiling crookedly.

“And I think we've left Susumu hanging long enough, huh?”

Hearing his name, Susumu lifts his head when they come in. His eyes are wide and wary as his guardians sit down on either side of him, little fingers digging into fists in his jeans, but he doesn't shy away.

“Where's Nyanko-sensei?” he whispers.

“Takashi sent him on an errand,” Satoru says easily, smoothing a hand through Susumu's tousled hair. “He has to earn his keep somehow, right?”

Susumu blinks, unsure what to make of that, and looks up at Takashi tentatively when the man puts an arm around his skinny shoulders. Takashi smiles down at him with a warmth that seems to soften the whole room, melting the tension out of Susumu's body like magic.

“I heard about what happened,” he says gently. “That must have been really scary. Are you alright?”

Satoru has been on the receiving end of that smile and that tone before, and so he knows it's relief or gratitude or a desperate desire to be deserving that's filling little Susumu's eyes with tears now.

“I really saw it,” he says earnestly, abandoning his white-knuckled grip on the knees of his jeans to reach for Takashi's hand where it rests on his own shoulder instead, “really. It sat in the back of the class for hours and watched us play. No one believed me, but it was really there.”

“I know it was.” Takashi trades a weighted look with Satoru over Susumu's head, and says slowly, “But this was the first time you've seen it, right? Did something happen on your way to school? Did you see something odd, or—have a strange conversation with someone?”

Susumu blinks wetly, considering the question. He starts to shake his head, then pauses. “My arm started to hurt, but only for a little bit.”

That has both the adults' attention instantly.

“Where on your arm, buddy?” Satoru asks, already reaching for the zipper of his hoodie. Susumu reluctantly leans away from Takashi's arm to help get rid of the sweatshirt, pulling his left arm free of its sleeve a little gingerly.

“Up here,” he says, reaching for a spot on his upper arm squarely between shoulder and elbow. “When I saw that monster in the classroom I forgot about my arm, but it kind of feels like a bruise.”

As far as Satoru can see, the length of Susumu's arm is unblemished, but Takashi goes stiff the moment the long sleeve of the boy's T-shirt is pushed up out of the way

“What do you see?” Satoru demands, used to picking apart the minute nuances of Takashi's expressions and stringing them into meaning. “What's there?”

Susumu is twisting his arm to see, and gives a little gasp. “There is a bruise. But where did it come from? I didn't bump my arm on anything on the way to school.”

A clatter in the kitchen draws Satoru's head up sharply, but Takashi doesn't look away from the boy between them, gaze furrowed. “Sensei,” he says, “come here and look at this.”

The cat waddles in agreeably, not a whisker out of place, and Satoru has to wonder just how well his 'hunt' went if he returned so quickly. With a scowl, he says, “You better not be slacking, cat.”

Nyanko-sensei gives him a narrow-eyed glare, and jumps heavily into his lap just to elicit a winded oof.

Takashi ignores their antics and Satoru's wounded wheezing to direct the cat's attention to Susumu's arm. “Tell me what this is, please.”

“That's a curse,” the cat grumbles, back arching as he presses his nose to Susumu's arm. Susumu jumps in surprise, probably more at the very human voice coming from the fat cat he cuddles with every night than the touch of a wet nose, and stares at Nyanko-sensei with wide eyes. “That rotten ayakashi must have gotten a whiff of your power while Suchan was walking to school and decided to leave a mark on him to get your attention, Natsume. It probably wanted to lure you out to eat you.”

“What's the point?” Satoru demands. “What's the curse do? Is he going to be okay?”

“I feel okay,” Susumu chimes in, enchanted by the talking cat. His fear is largely forgotten in favor of wonder, a delighted smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he reaches to pet the fortune cat in its favorite spot behind the ears, and that's probably what Takashi had intended all along. “I didn't know you could talk, Nyanko-sensei!”

“I can do anything, brat,” the cat says gruffly, leaning fondly into the child's small hand. “And the curse is a weak one—it's already breaking beneath the barrier, and my light will finish the job.”

The barrier was one that Nyanko-sensei created in the weeks before Susumu came to live with them permanently, one that left him drained for days after its completion. It's strong enough that Takashi has to go to the rooftop to return names, and maybe they took for granted that sense of safety.

“But what's the point,” Satoru stresses, hands folded into fists. “What does the curse do?”

“It makes him see, obviously,” the cat snaps back. “The intent of a curse like this is to make the victim go mad, but it was the wrong one to inflict on Suchan, here—whose family is composed of the least likely people in this city to call him crazy for seeing impossible things. An upper class yokai, a fool with remarkable spiritual power, and an even bigger fool who could have lived a mundane life and instead chose to marry into this mess.”

Takashi splutters something that sounds like “we aren't technically married, sensei, honestly” but Satoru didn't miss the grudging affection in the yokai's haughty tone.

Susumu pulls Nyanko-sensei into his lap, with what looks like no qualms about cuddling even now that he knows it can talk. Children his age are generally more excepting of strangeness, Satoru knows from experience. Even children as disillusioned as Susumu.

“When the bruise goes away, I'll be all better?”

“Yes you will,” Takashi says immediately. There's a faraway look in the back of his eyes that Satoru hates, one that speaks of self-recrimination that it's going to take Satoru ages to undo, but his smile is present and warm. “I promise.”

Susumu pets the family cat for a moment, thoughtful. “But there will still be monsters, even if I can't see them?”

“We'll ask Uncle Tanuma to make you a new omamori,” Satoru assures him. “He's a big fancy priest now, he knows what he's doing.”

“And Nyanko-sensei will go with you to school from now on,” Takashi adds, with a meaningful look at the cat. It sighs, trying to look put-upon, but Satoru thinks it probably would have followed Susumu to school after this on its own, anyway. “We'll keep the monsters away.”

Susumu hugs the fat fortune cat, and leans back into Takashi's side, and smiles widely at Satoru—a far cry from the shaken, tearful little boy Satoru picked up from school earlier. An even farther cry from the silent shell of a person Satoru first met almost a year ago, battered and betrayed and by no means broken.

“Okay,” Susumu says, with only a small idea how big a gift he's giving them. “I believe you.”

[fishfingersandjellybabies]

Supervised Visitation - escape series

Characters: Jon Kent, Damian Wayne Pairing: jondami Summary: If anyone asked him what his favorite part of his weekly visit with Jon was, Damian would probably say it was threatening his brother’s soldiers. A/N: Jon and Conner get an hour a day to physically visit with each other. They basically get no other special treatment other than their own cells and where they are, and maybe allowed to actually keep the gifts Damian brings them. The prison staff all like Damian, Jon and Conner pretty well, so they get a lot of leeway on those rules (beyond this fic of course.) All the metas in all the prisons have the cuff-collar combo. When the collars are turned on, they’re on for everyone in the prison, though individualized for when they actually shock people. (ie, Conner was not shocked at any point during Damian’s visit.) Jon puts on a brave/’it’s all fine in here’ face for Damian, but really - he’s a miserable little puppy.

Stuff for the Escape series

~~

It’d be funny, in another life. Every prison guard on every shift knew him by now. Recognized his car when he came through the gate, began all security check protocols before he even shut off the engine.

“Mr. Wayne.”

“Hello again, Mr. Wayne.”

“Weren’t you just here yesterday, Mr. Wayne? Time sure is flying.”

“You ever going to bring that brother of yours? We’d be more than happy to accommodate him and his friend, too.”

Jonathan and his brother were kept in a mostly private ward, behind tight security and code-encrypted doors, with separate, spacious cells, as far away from the prison entrance and general population as possible – more because Damian paid for them to be than any other reason.

(He paid the prison double to make sure the Commander didn’t find out about the ‘special treatment.’)

Some of the other prisoners heckled him as the warden walked him through the cellblock, bag and picnic basket curled around his arm. Damian paid them no mind. Never did. Normally from the moment he left the penthouse to the moment he was in the private hallway, only one thing was on his mind.

One person.

When the warden opened the barred door to where the Kent boys were held, Damian immediately scowled. There were guards in the corridor. But not just any guards.

His brother’s soldiers.

“We…were ordered to.” Warden Alexei whispered sadly. “And I…I just want to warn you, Mr. Wayne.” Damian glanced down at him. “…They forced us to turn the collars back on.”

Damian clenched his teeth.

“Thank you for letting me know.” Damian growled out as he stepped forward. The warden followed behind silently. After a few feet, they passed Conner’s cell – he was asleep, in the standard orange jumpsuit, curled in a ball on his cot, blanket half on the floor.

Damian could see the flashing red light on the silver collar he wore, indicating it was powered. He inhaled deeply and looked away as they continued.

Jon’s cell was across from Conner’s, and one more down the row. Dick’s guards seemed to be nonchalantly gathered around this one, and Damian could only roll his eyes as the warden put in the code to open the meta-resistant cell door.

Jon was sitting on his own cot, back against the wall, knees curled up. When he heard the beeping of the buttons the warden was pressing, he glanced up, and smiled brighter than any star when he saw who it was.

He was already scrambling to his feet as the cell’s door slowly rose. Damian returned the grin as he stepped into the space, carefully placed his items on the ground and swept Jon up into his arms. Jon immediately put his hands on Damian’s face, as he always did, and leaned in for a kiss.

And their lips barely brushed before there was the quiet sound of buzzing. Suddenly Jon was jumping backwards, grabbing for the collar around his neck.

“…Ow.” Jon murmured weakly. “…They turned these back on today. I guess someone in general population did something-”

“This is not a conjugal visit.” One of Dick’s guards reported gruffly, the sound muffled behind his helmet. “Please no sexual touching of any sort. If you would like one, you need to schedule it with-”

“Warden Alexei, can you please close the cell door.” Damian drawled over his shoulder, glaring at the guards. “I will call for you when I’m ready to leave.”

“…Of course, Mr. Wayne.” The warden nodded, hit a few more buttons, and when the door began to lower, quickly disappeared out of the ward. Damian kept his eyes on the soldiers for a second more before turning his full attention back to Jon.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, lifting his hand to hold Jon’s face. Jon smiled and leaned into it. “Grayson is angry at me. I…shouted at him earlier.”

“…I guess the collars make sense then.” Jon laughed, lifting both of his hands to grab Damian’s wrist. He carefully lowered his hand and tugged Damian forward, until they were both sitting on his bed, side by side. “They were turned on about an hour ago.”

Damian kept his eyes lowered, focusing on the silver cuffs around Jon’s wrists. Remotely magnetic handcuffs. All the prisoners had a pair that matched their shock collars. When a prisoner needed to have their hands bound, a guard just needed to hit a button and the magnet would activate, bringing the limbs together.

They’d be pretty, if they weren’t on his beloved.

“But how are you?” Jon asked, leaning down into Damian’s line of sight, trying to change the subject. “What’s new out there?”

“Nothing.” Damian mumbled grumpily. “The world is boring and ugly and I hate it.”

Jonathan laughed.

“…It’s not funny.” Damian sighed, glancing up. “…I miss you.”

“And I miss you.” Jon slid his hand across the mattress, gripping Damian’s tightly. “Conner does too. He told me so the other day.”

Damian smirked. “Prison must be getting to him then.”

“Well, can you blame him? I at least get to look forward to seeing you every week.” Jon hummed. “Conner has…no one.”

“Drake would come if he could.” Damian promised. “But he’s still…scared. And for good reason. I…I can’t believe I’m saying it, but please don’t blame him.”

“I don’t.” Jon smiled. “We don’t.”

“Besides, he tends to cover for me when I come here. And for that, I am grateful. Though it’s not like I’m going to tell him that.”

Jon laughed again, and the sound was music to Damian’s ears. After a moment, Jon sighed, scooting closer to Damian’s side. Intertwining their fingers as he leaned his head on Damian’s shoulder.

“How is Tim anyway?” He whispered.

“Tired. Lonely.” Damian hummed. “He misses Conner as much as Conner misses him, and I think it’s starting to take its toll on him.” A hesitation, to stare down at their hands. At the handcuff and orange sleeve. ��He doesn’t trust Grayson anymore, and I think Grayson is starting to notice.”

“Is he still safe then?”

“Grayson would never hurt us, no matter how much we hated him.” Damian sighed. “He didn’t know I came here before today. Not explicitly, anyway. I told you I shouted at him. I’d shouted at him about you.”

“Oh?”

“I told him I hated him for taking you away from me, in no uncertain terms. No doubt after my departure, one of my siblings told him where I go when I leave.” Damian explained. He paused, then though, and Jon’s words from earlier floated back to his head. “Wait a minute. I didn’t tell you what Grayson and I fought about before. Why were you unsurprised by the collars?”

Jon shifted to look up at him, eyes sad and tired. There was scruff on his chin, Damian could see now, and it made him look old.

“I figured it out by your stories.” Jon mumbled. “Every time you and Dick fight, or every time he and Tim fight…the collars get turned back on.”

Damian’s mouth dropped open. “…No.”

“Only for a few hours. The longest they were turned back on was eighteen hours and forty-three minutes.” Jon seemed to hesitate. “…They only shock us a once or twice when they’re turned on.”

Horror marred Damian’s face. “With reason?!”

Jon looked sheepishly away. “…Sometimes…”

“I’ll kill him.” Damian spat.

Jon’s head whirled around. “Damian-”

“I’ll kill my brother for this.” He continued, even as Jon tried to reach for his face, force him to look at him. “He’s not even my brother anymore-”

Jon tried an old tactic. His favorite tactic, to get Damian to calm down. Gently held his face, brought him quickly towards his own. Breathed out and parted his lips to taste his-

Bzzt!

He yelped this time. Jerked backwards and accidentally bounced his head against the stone wall of his cell.

“…Sorry, I forgot…” Jon all but whimpered. He’d closed his eyes in pain with the shock but when he opened them now, he saw Damian standing protectively in front of him, staring at the guards beyond the cell door. At the sound of Jon’s voice, though, he spun back around. Mimicked Jon’s previous gesture and took gentle hold of Jon’s face. Didn’t try to kiss him, but carefully checked him over for visible injuries. When he was satisfied, he sighed, slowly dragging Jon into his embrace.

BZZZZT!

“Do it again.” Damian roared, jumping back to his feet and stalking towards the cell door, even as Jon grabbed for the collar. “Do it again, I fucking dare you.”

“This is not a conjugal visit.” A guard intoned once more.

“Do it again.” Damian didn’t let the guard repeat his mantra. “And I’ll tell your commander that you shocked me.”

And this – of course – made the guards pause.

“I’ll tell him you pointed your stupid guns at me.” Damian continued. “I’ll tell him you left your posts. Left me alone with the aliens.”

“Damian.” Jon whispered. “Don’t waste my time with you on them.”

Damian glared at his brother’s soldiers for another moment before bending to grab the forgotten picnic basket and bag, and spinning back towards Jon.

And without a word, he dropped the items on the bed, and slowly lifted his hands to run across Jon’s chest. Then slipped his fingers underneath the collar, kept them between the metal and Jon’s skin, gently held Jon’s neck, and descended one more time for that kiss.

No one was shocked.

Damian felt Jon’s own hands come up immediately, clutching at his coat, tugging at his scarf.

“Stop,” Jon moaned, barely moving his mouth from Damian’s. “Causing trouble.”

“You’re worth it.” Damian breathed.

“I won’t be when,” He grinned, as he pulled Damian forward. As he leaned against the wall, and forced Damian to stabilize with a knee between his. “When your brother has me transferred to Antarctica.”

“I’d find you.” Damian promised. “I’d find you, and I’d never stop looking until I did.”

“…I love you.” Jon murmured after a second, pulling back just slightly. Just enough to look Damian in the eye.

Damian smiled, as he brought his other knee up, settled between Jon’s as he practically boxed him against the wall.

“I love you too, Jonathan.”

And he was tearful now, as he slowly wound his arms around Damian’s torso, began to bend his legs, press them into Damian’s sides.

“I miss you.” Jon rasped, hiding his face against Damian’s chest. Clinging to him with all of his might. “…I want to go home.”

Damian could only wrap his arms around Jon’s shoulders. (Once again, the guards didn’t dare to activate the collar.) Let Jon shake and quietly cry while he held him, burying his face in Jon’s hair.

“I know. And one day, I’ll get you there.” Damian promised. “You and your brother both.”

Jon sniffed loudly, nodded vigorously against Damian’s chest.

“I wish you didn’t have to leave.” Jon hummed. “I hate when you leave.”

“Then I’ll stay extra long today, regardless of visitor hours or idiot soldiers standing outside the door.” Carefully, Damian unwound himself. Held Jon’s face once more, and slowly wiped the tears away. “Don’t cry, Beloved. My sister would be upset if you cried while you ate the cupcakes she made especially for you.”

That earned a blubbery laugh.

Jon sat back, wiping his own eyes as Damian reluctantly climbed off of him. He kept himself close though, let only a second go by of them not touching each other before pressing himself to Jon’s side.

And opposite of earlier, it was now him who leaned his head on Jon’s shoulder, watching as Jon picked up and dug through the picnic basket, deciding on what treat to eat first.

“…You have a library here, correct?” Damian asked, picking up the other bag he’d brought, placing it on his lap. A gift, a small voice recorder. Filled with some of Jon’s favorite fairy tales, read by Damian. He’d give it to him at the end of his visit, to avoid spending the entirety of their little time together in tears. Jon made a sound of affirmation in answer to the question. “Tell me about the last book you read.”

And as Jon did just that, with a mouth full of cookies, Damian closed his eyes. Smiled when he felt Jon’s hand slide back into his, squeeze tenderly. Let himself be lulled into a fleeting, temporary peace by the wonderful sound of his beloved’s voice, and the simple thought, the simple dream of:

One day we’ll be together again.