#fucking. fic in my head where all four of them wake up in the river escape room style

[notedchampagne]

the 69ers have done something horrid to me. i am burdened with so many interactions i want to write and draw

[verfound]

I might be late to the party but If you're still taking WIP game questions I'd like to know about a couple! Winters: -I want One -Keep Your Mate Warm -Scratchpad - The Stairs House Band: -Papa's Ink -Harold the Glitter Cow -Maman's First Maman's Day

I was gonna add a couple other from the dingo files and the main folder but I didn't wanna be too greedy 🤣.

Ha ha, definitely not too late! Let's see what I got here...

So I am gonna start by saying any file/folder labeled "Scratchpad" is exactly that: scratchpads. I don't like to completely delete stuff, because I might find whatever was happening doesn't work there but might work somewhere else? Or there's a line/idea I liked but wasn't working out right at the time. So I have little Scratchpads with old drafts/nixed ideas. I was struggling with Luka's reaction in Some Scars Run Deep, so that's the majority of that scratchpad - a few versions of the latter half of that fic where things weren't coming together right.

"I Want One" is set around that last chapter of Winter's Fury and focuses on Juleka and Rose. Specifically, Rose meeting Clara and immediately going home and telling Juleka "I want one. Now." After WF wrapped up I had like three or four fluffy ideas that all got jotted down as "Owed Fluff", but then Princess Heartmaker took over and nothing beyond notes has come of them yet. 😂

Same thing with "The Stairs". In the last scene of WF, remember how Tom mentions what Luka thought was a closet was stairs/a second floor? And Luka was asking Marinette about it, but she was like "later I'm sleepy"? I wanted to go into a bit about how that was Marinette's next project once he finally started sleeping again: she is trying to move forward and look ahead to their future, and they both have said they still wanted more snakelets (even with everything that happened with Clara/Lila), but her cottage was only ever meant for a single person. So she made a second floor so they'd have room for their family to grow. It was becoming too much to include in WF, though, so I had it set aside as something to play with later.

"Keep Your Mate Warm" is actually "Keep Your Mate Warm (and Your Friend's Mate Warmer)". Quick found this prompt:

“Because, your house is freezing. What’s with the weird possessive thing around the thermostat? Let her be warm, for fuck’s sake. And, before you get weird. Yes, we were naked in bed. No, we weren’t doing anything sexual. We were watching cat videos. She wouldn’t cheat on you. I offered, but she said no.”

“Leave - before I kick you out of my house.”

“Gladly, it’s warmer out there.”

And made the comment how it would be a great Dingo prompt - specifically Winters Dingo, if I hadn't...y'know. So it starts with Marinette out by the river around the turn of season, when it's still cold enough to be an issue, and Perry runs into her, startles her, and she falls into the water. Hits her head or something so doesn't immediately come out, and she's freezing when he fishes her out - so he takes her back to his home, because it's closer, and sets about warming her up (getting her wet clothes off, shoving her under a million blankets, cuddling up in wolf form bc body heat). When she wakes up it's awkward but she gets it, only when they get her home and tell a half-awake Luka what happened he starts to overreact - until Perry gives him shit for that time Brielle went to check on him in the winter and found him asleep and half-dead outside his cave and did the same thing. Which was all done to get us some Winters Bri, really. 😂

Aaand for the HB fics...

...a common theme you will notice with a lot of HB prompts is "Quick sent me X and..." 😂 There's a reason we call them Dammit Quicks. 😂

"Harold the Glitter Cow" is from a video she found where this girl is grooming a cow, and the final step is adding a coat of glitter? Which got this idea in my head of this one older cow named Harold (it's not even a bull - it's a cow, and for some reason the kids named her Harold) that Mellie wants to make pretty, so she gets her with a glitter bomb. Which makes Luka go, "Ok, Mel, we're teaching you how to do this right." So it's all about Mellie learning how to properly groom a cow, and yes, there are ways to coat them in glitter, but don't use your maman's stash what were you thinking.

"Papa's Ink" is Bloody's fault. 😂 She found this BNHA picture of Aizawa grading papers while Eiri colored in tattoos on his arm, and it Sparked Things. Luka, before his sleeve was complete, working on something when he feels something tickling his arm. Looks down and Mellie's there, coloring in his sleeve with her markers. It's keeping her calm/occupied and is cute as hell, so he doesn't say anything. And it keeps working, so maybe he gets a few outline tattoos specifically for that purpose? He takes pictures of the colored ones before he washes them off to save (maybe hangs 'em on the fridge like a Dad or saves 'em to use as Embarrassing Baby Photos when the kids start dating).

"Maman's First Maman's Day" is another DQ. She found this vid of a daddy taking his toddler to Target to pick out Mother's Day gifts, and one of the things the girl grabbed was a sexy nighty bc "it was pretty". So it's set when Harm's still little, like the Mother's Day before Mellie comes along, and Luka takes her out to get Marinette something for Mother's Day. And it's mostly safe, until Harm finds a black underwear set or something that she thinks is pretty/likes the feel of, and Luka's like "No no no Maman won't like that" - so Harm grabs for a pink one, because of course Maman will love that one. 😂 It's mostly just daddy/daughter fluff, but Luka totally sneaks the underwear in as his gift.

(If you want more feel free - going through these helps me remember which ones I need to get cleared out. 😂 Some of them can be short/quick and just get buried under Other Projects, so yeah totally help me get a checklist going! 😂)

[oviids]

pls share some of your spn fic recs 🥺🥺

ok, a few things first:

followers and mutuals who do not have supernatural brainworms, kindly avert your eyes

i don’t normally rec or even read much fanfic any more but this is a CRISIS ok (cont.)

there is so. much. content for deancas out there and i have incredibly high standards, several ancient ao3 bookmarks, can speedread, and want to spare you guys the experience of wading through it all.

i also have a section for spn femslash since I was pretty into that back in the day (sadly a lot less fan content for this :/)

I don’t really like au’s or pure smut (I honestly usually just skim or skip those scenes) so if you’re mainly looking for that kind of thing this probably won’t be very helpful to you. jsyk.

i’m not great at describing stuff but i’ll do my best, i’ll also try and add tw’s when neccesary.

i wil try and keep updating this with any other decent fics i find, feel free to rec stuff too since i’m like 7 years behind.(edit 1/25/21) this is getting looooong so i’m going to start making another list on my spn blog rather than update this one

(edit 1/3/21) since this has gotten pretty long i’ve added rating/approximate word counts and marked my particular favorites with an asterisk.

Dean/Cas fic:

So Says The Sword*** - explicit/85k. FUCK its good...au/time travel where dean is not pulled out of hell by cas and says yes to becoming the michael sword. honestly could serve as an alternative to actually watching the show, if you want to get into dean/cas without actually doing that to yourself.

Fata morgana.*  - teen/6k, pst s9 finale. very bela centric and i love it, she finds cas looking for dean in hell.

Redemption Road -misc/600+k. an incredibly long fic from a collaborative writing group back in the day. canon divergent from the end of s6 on, has a cool take on godstiel and the leviathans, as well as the lovecratian mythos connection. ngl when i reread it i only made it about 28% in but imo the casual reader can actually stop around there, the rest concerns a lovecraftian apocalypse that is still good (i think i don’t remember it very well) but not required to enjoy the first half. if you prefer i have an ebook version i can send you on gdrive.

Someone Who's Feeling For Me* - mature/45k, s12. they run into lisa braeden and dean thinks cas is into her while cas thinks dean still likes her. treats lisa way better than the show ever did and the miscommunication is pretty funny rather than annoying.

a turn of the earth - mature/95k. time travel fic where cas from s10 keeps showing up in deans life from a few years before s1 to right before the hellhounds take his soul.  slow burn, good character study, and at one point cas punches the dad in the face and it rules.

On the Wings of War - teen/85k, canon divergent s5. dean accidentally becomes the Horseman of War. plays fun, fast and loose with biblical lore, michael has some rights.

Named - mature/95k, alternate s5. EXTREMELY blasphemous in a fun sexy way. manages to predict metatron almost to a T. there’s one major character death and its literally jesus christ, everyone is very sad about it and it sets the rest of the story rolling. an alternate interpretation of cas’ mission to raise dean from hell which had me on the floor. ngl its kind of misogynistic at points, but its from 2010 and tracks with late oughts-2010 spn (sorry anna the author did you dirty here:/).

The Girlfriend Experience - explicit/15k. uhhh i don’t normally rec or even read smutty stuff unless someone i know is specifically asking for it but this has stuff like sam trying to be a good ally and dean thinking holding hands with cas is ‘kinda gay :/’ minutes after having gay sex with him.

i crippled your heart a hundred times - explicit/19k, s8. cas confesses his feelings and dean spends a long time getting his head out of his ass about it. truly hits different after the actual confession, despite being written six years early it feels like its actually what could have gone down more or less if the writers weren’t talentless demons who hate us.

My Roots Take Flight** - mature/125k. reverse au where cas is a hunter and dean’s an angel...OR IS IT???? an alternate retelling of s4. tw for briefly being set in a psychiatric hospital/the hospital being mentioned somewhat frequently throughout the fic, plus more references to torture in hell and heaven than usual.

The One Thing You Can't Lose* - teen/4k.you know those posts about how cas is a super-strong super-tough ancient warrior but he just lets dean tug him around because he likes it? thats it thats the fic.

Hands, From Which All Things Are Built - teen/14k, post s8′s ‘goodbye stranger.’ cas is on the run with the angel tablet but keeps in touch with sam and dean by text, he and dean still manage to be terrible at Actual communication.

Autrement, Danger - or, The Account of an Exceedingly Long Day - mature/30k, post s11. a monster that takes the appearance of your soulmate leads to some wild miscommunications and dealing with years of repression, also dean gets to see cas’ true form which is always cool. tw for non-graphic mentions of underage sexual assault/sex work.

Down to Agincourt - mature/explicit/900++++k, endverse continuation. endverse!cas survives his encounter with lucifer and discovers another time-displaced dean from s7. i’ve only read the two of four parts but its really good, veeeeery slow burn, has a lot of fun oc’s and takes a rather surprising but (imo) entertaining and intriguing turn into Hellenic history and mythology. usual tw’s for endverse/endverse!cas but nothing graphic, it’s actually pretty light-hearted (relatively speaking of course).

Nothing Equals the Splendor** - explicit/8k, THEE finale fix it fic you’ve been waiting for! posits that the entire final episode was just a (very bad and lame) djinn’s vision.

like moses and batman and james dean - explicit/31k, post s8. explores dean’s trauma and internalized homophoba from his technically canon experience with sex work and its impact on his relationship with cas. the sex work itself isn’t really shown in any detail but it’s still a relatively heavy fic.

Crazy Diamonds - explicit/25k, s4/alternate s14. fresh-out-of-hell dean and dean from 10 years in the future are displaced from time and sent to each other’s present.

where the weeds take root - explicit/30k. au where the men of letters kick them out of the bunker and they accidentally move out into the country, get over their codependence and semi retire. featuring chicken coop building, sam volunteering at a dog shelter, gardening, and blissfully mundane domesticity.

No Resting Place - teen/6k. djinn dream fic, switches back and forth between cas’ dream of being married to dean and retired from hunting to the aftermath when he wakes up. tw for brief mention of suicide since, y’know, djinn dream.

any port in a storm - mature/52k. post s8 finale. cas and dean have to pose as a couple going through a rough patch for a case and actually deal with their emotional baggage, cas struggles with being human and metatron is up to stuff.

all this and heaven too* - explicit/7k. in the author’s own words ‘...a love letter to every trans person who ever projected onto Dean Winchester.’ absolutely unzipped me emotionally and theologically, its just. so good. tw for very brief mentions of internalized transphobia/dysphoria.

Because it is* - mature/6k, finale fix it. killing chuck does not bring back anyone back and the winchesters spend a very long time dealing with what they’ve lost, cas and dean SOMEHOW still manage to have signifigant communication issues even after the confession. tw for suicidal thoughts/brief attempt.

Vena Amoris and Other Old-Fashioned Bullshit* - teen/4k, s6. when cas fell for dean it automatically soulbonded/angel married them, shenanigans ensue when dean finds out during the angel’s civil war. funny and actually written back when s6 was airing so cas is still (or at least pretending to be) kind of an OP asshole which is fun.

Rinse, Repeat - teen/3k, s8. angsty character study of cas as he’s reprogrammed and trained to kill dean. not really dean/cas since its just cas’ pov of canon events but its beautifully written and ends with him snapping out of it through the power of love (also now a canon event!).

Emergence - explicit/59k, canon divergent after s11. dean meets a hunter he only recognizes as their friend claire novak’s missing father, but soon realizes he might be the answer behind the mysterious void in his memories and feelings (aka everyone’s memories of cas are completely wiped away for three years).

Cuckoo And Nest - explicit/10k, early established relationship/character study, cas tries to figure out how he fits into dean’s life and space in the bunker.

Build a Home* - teen/20k, canon divergent s12. sam and eileen are cute and turn the bunker into men of letters/hunters hq and everyone but cas moves in, mutual miscommunication issues and pining ensues.

Down in the River - teen/5k, early s8, cas prays to dean in purgatory while sam and dean try to figure out a way to get him out.

Teaching Poetry to Fish* - mature/52k, ?? BC through the entire series/canon divergent s14 and 15. retelling of crucial scenes throughout the shows timeline from cas’ pov, feat. actual fish and poetry.

the minor fall, the major lift - gen/4k, post confession/finale fixit. dean goes into the empty to save cas and runs into several old friends (and enemies).

With the Kisses of His Mouth* - teen/3k, gen later seasons. dean and cas keep kissing by accident.

Remaining Grace - explicit/109k, alternate s6. au where cas asks dean for help with raphael and dean, of course, does. tw for temporary major character death/semi-graphic depictions of alcohol withdrawal.

The face of heaven.* - teen/10k, au, dean is a regular guy and cas is a fallen star (think ‘stardust’, kinda).

Stories Are Made of Mistakes*  - teen/5k. newly human cas has trouble getting used to a human body and humanity in general, but still figures out that he and dean are A Thing before dean does.

Hurry Up And Wait - mature/21k, canon divergent s12. a fairyland and quite possibly LOTR related case comes up and dean goes full fanboy, mary is introduced to the wonders of the peter jackson adaptions, many references and comparisons (including between cas and dean’s ‘friendship’ and arwen/aragon). also charle is still alive and has just been doing fairy stuff this whole time.

There Are Many Things - explicit/28k, s9. cas is extremely lonely/touch-starved and trying to figure out this whole human thing, as well as where he and dean stand after being kicked out of the bunker.

It's A Long Life to Always Be Longing - teen/40k, post s11 finale. amara helps dean by putting him in a magical coma so he can finally get some much needed rest and show him possible futures for him, sam and cas. meanwhile sam and cas go on a roadtrip (or several) to find componets for a spell to wake dean up. really good sam and cas friendship, they actually talk about their shared lucifer trauma and stuff.

Non-Photo Blue - gen/2k, s4/5/alternate s5. fifty moments from cas’ memories of dean.

Tall Grass - explicit/57k, canon divergent post series. cas becomes the ultimate plant dad. feat the wayward sisters gang, cathartic character growth, fun oc’s, domesticity, and lots of actual botanical info-dumping.

on vessels - no rating/gen/2k. established dean/cas, cas tells dean about how he used to imagine what it would be like to have him as his vessel.

search for tomorrow on every shore* - teen/11k, post-finale (extremely derogatory). some angels in jack’s new heaven act out and dean gets temporarily resurrected in 2003 and runs into his younger self.

Architecture of the Minotaur’s Heart - explicit/45k, very canon divergent post s1. dean’s new house seems to have a life and mind of its own, while in his dreams he sees glimpses of a world and apocalypse that never came to be and an angel that looks strangely like his mysterious neighbor, cas. loosely inspired by the book house of leaves (which i highly recommend for fans of weird horror).

The Distance Of The Setting Sun - explicit/17k, post s5. established dean/cas relationship, team free will finally takes advantage of cas’ abilities to go on vacation around the world.

diamond star halo - teen/5k, s11. dean lets cas use him as a temporary vessel while he recovers from rowena’s spell, sam is a long-suffering third-wheel.

Make Known** - teen/16k, s6/7. dean struggles to understand how cas could have become his enemy and whether he ever truly knew him in the first place.

blunt little instrument* - mature/1.4k, post finale. dean finally confronts his father in heaven, very cathartic.

my heart a compass*** - teen/10k, post confession. the empty forces cas to re-experience his most regretted moments while dean tries to snap him out of it and bring him home.

A Crash Course in Someone Else's History - teen/11k, s6. cas from the very start of s4 is brought forward in time by s6!cas to distract the brothers from his and crowley’s plans.

The Cuckoo Father - mature/8k, s7 au. the woman who found cas in the river post-leviathans does not marry him bc he was sent to her by god or whatever, but actually identifies him as jimmy novak and sends him back to claire and amelia.

The Dead Dean Clause* - teen/5k, post alt s5 ending. team free will celebrates surviving taking down lucifer by getting blitzed, cas lies to a cop and gets an impromptu driving lesson. title/description sound dark i know but it’s actually very funny and light.

Suck It, Judy Garland - mature/20k, s12 (after the ‘i love you...i love all of you’ episode). cas and sam have to pretend to be a couple for a case and dean is NOT happy about it.

By Daylight and In Dream - teen/16k, s5. pre-dean/cas, dean invites cas to use his dreams to hide from the other angels. tw for very brief mention of a memory/dream of alastair sexually assaulting dean.

The Five People You Meet in Heaven - mature/22k, post-canon. an actually happy (if sometimes bittersweet) heaven endgame written several years ago, though some details are rather eerily similar to the show’s ending.

heaven is a place on earth* - teen/2k. dean’s pov of some of the times cas left him behind throughout the show, and one alternate ending where he finally gets to stay.

I Cleanse The Mirror - teen/20k, alternate s6. dean’s body is stolen by an ancient elemental and his soul has to hitch a ride in cas’ vessel.

an exploration of gender; angelic*** - mature/4k. *oscar isaac voice* lets get into angel gender politics!! aka cas is trans.

Zenith - explicit/33k, s9. after 9x06 an angry witch curses cas with the ability to see supernatural beings and human souls.

La cucina. - gen/3k, alt s9. dean goes wild helping a newly-human cas find out what kinds of food he likes, or the early s9 domesticity we deserved!

Dean Winchester, Cocksucker at Rest***** - teen/7k, post-finale. john and mary finally come over for dinner and john reacts to dean/cas in a rather predictable fashion. SOOOOOOOOO good omg, its so funny and a little sad and very very cathartic. part of a series that has a few other really good short fics.

The Way You Didn't Go - teen/5k, s15. coda to 15.09, dean has nightmares about the moc!cas timeline.

On Drowning - teen/28k. dean saves cas after he nearly drowns, they both try and deal with the physical/mental fallout (aka the fic where thee iconic “you only touch me when you think I’m dead or dying” originates). tw for realistic depictions of drowning/triage/misc medical information.

The Thirty-Six Questions That Lead to Love* - mature/13k. claire has dean and cas pretend to be her gay dads for a case and they play the titular 36 question game, get mistaken for swingers, and birdwatch, among other things.

Assorted F/F stuff:

Deep Breaths* - mary/ellen, au where mary said no to azazel’s deal and let john stay dead, still becomes a milf.

Like Rebel Diamonds - krissy/claire, they become hunter gf’s on the hunt for cas to kick his ass for taking jimmy. not-so-stealth dean/cas as well.

To Ash and Bone - anna/ruby, same author as the previous fic (p much all of her stuff is good from what i recall). au where ruby is a witch and helps anna when she’s cursed.

Holy Clockwork Angels - jo/ruby, STEAMPUNK au with very cool worldbuiilding.

At Day's End - jo/anna (my fucking KINGDOM for more jo/anna content, the dean/cas parallels are allllll there), au where they are both at the camp in the endverse and gfs.

these posts - ok so not actually a fic but i’m now obsessed with this hannah/meg dynamic.

Tagelied - mary/ellen, the true story of how ellen got into hunting before angels interfered.

Hell's Bells** - meg/abaddon, alternate s8/9 where meg survives crowley’s attack with sam’s help and teams up with abaddon (who she has a sk year old crush on) to take back hell.

The Ecstasy of the Rose - anna/ruby, anna travels back in time to escape heaven and becomes a signifigant part of ruby’s old human life.

Angel Underground - anna/jo, kind of an urban fantasy au with a very intriguing premise (sadly its very short, i’d love to see more if this ‘verse).

Clover, Flame - billie/mary, billie was always the reaper that showed up to take mary after her death(s) over the years.

Drag Me To Heaven - anna/ruby, a variant on the ‘last night on earth’ thing with dean.

Come Home* - jo/anna, canon-divergent au where anna is the new waitress at the roadhouse and helps jo set up a (probably not really) haunted house for halloween.

[peakyblindersxx]

whiskey business - john shelby x reader (part 8 of ?)

gif by @thesoldiersminute can i send you a cake or something cause fuCk!!!!!!!!!!! he's beautiful

a/n: to everyone still reading this fic, my sweet angels, ily!! this fic is so near and dear to my heart and @stxdyblr-2k has just done such an amazing job with it i can't even thank her enough. as per the last part, this one is also mostly her, just me editing but i hope you guys love it as much as i did!!! don't worry, there's gonna be a lot more :) and i apologize for being not as active, i'm gonna try to get a couple of requests up that i'm really excited about this week tysm for being patient with me <3

love, abi xxx

read part one two three four five six seven | my masterlist

prompt: ada has some talking to do, and you're not about to deny her.

warnings: fluff, semi-angst, tommy being the cocky mf he is (let's be real, it's only acceptable cause he's so damn fine), john being cute and in love and jesus i am head over heels

tagging: @datewithgianni, @mayaslifeinabox, @deepdonutkid, @springsoulofengland, @lilymurphy03, @operation-spot

You had planned to go to Ada's after work, but she obviously had other ideas. She didn't even bother walking in and asking to speak to you; instead, choosing to bang on the window closest to your desk and yelling at you to "fucking hurry up!" Your boss opened the door for you expectantly, not offering you any protection; he was firmly in the Shelby's ever growing pocket and as long as he could go home to his children, his sickly wife and their six bed in the country, with a full time nurse and nanny, he had no interest in crossing Thomas.

"Ada, I was coming to see you after work, I swear."

"I know. I was going to let you but..." She trailed off. "We need to talk. I don't know what the fuck is going on with you. John said he'd seen you last night and you asked after me."

John had indeed seen you last night. It was strange waking up with him, used to leaving almost immediately after he was finished with you. Your small bed could barely comfortably fit you both, having to intertwine your limbs with John's to not fall off the edge. You had awoken to John pressing a kiss to your forehead before lazily trailing his fingers between your legs, waiting for you to open your eyes before settling between your thighs, tongue swirling around your clit, making you cum before sunrise.

"Do we have to do this in the street?" You practically begged, the shouting having attracted onlookers.

"I wanted to talk to you before anyone else in the family gets to you because I need you to be honest."

"Ada-"

"No, I'm doing you a favour here, so you fucking listen. Right now, between you and I, no bullshit. No tactics. No white lies. You have to tell me exactly what we're dealing with." She looked frantic, scared for some reason.

You nodded, walking her down the side street, careful not to link arms with her. You knew she was doing you a favour; this wasn't about forgiveness or friendship, much more was at stake here.

"To what extent was Thomas involved?"

That took you off guard. Ada read the confusion on your face and sighed impatiently, her subtle plea for you to keep up.

Shit. You remembered your conversation with John, how she thought this was her brother's way of pushing her out of the company.

"Don't spare my feelings. What did my brother say to you?"

"He said it was in our mutual interest that you didn't find out. He didn't care who John slept with but cared who you trusted so I had to trust him. He said there was no point in upsetting you over one of John's conquests who he'd tire of in a month."

"That all?"

"Pretty much, I didn't know Arthur knew. He never talked to me about it, did laugh at Thomas' digs now that I think on it-"

"Did you know Isaiah and Michael knew?"

"I thought they were aware but no one ever talked to me about it."

"Of course they wouldn't." She hissed, frustration causing a nerve on her neck to jump.

Ada and you had spoken for years about the rampant misogyny of her brothers and any men you two came into contact with. Although you were both far more reserved than you used to be as rebellious and adventurous thirteen year olds, you'd both grew increasingly angry at how you were treated. She'd long written off her brothers as womanisers, who saw women as purely sexual and entertaining, objectifying them. You both long despised how they dehumanised women. She was amazed that Thomas had attempted to settle down and managed a somewhat loving marriage, but resented him for his carelessness and need for power which inevitably killed his wife.

"Ada, I just want to say..." You licked your lip nervously, unsure of how to continue.

"You need to talk, Y/N. No bollocks."

"Before last night, he'd never been to mine or called. I always went to him."

The muscle in her jaw tensed.

"You slept with him last night then?" You met her question with silence and she rolled her eyes. "The second he said he saw you I knew you had, he wanted to tell me that he was going to continue seeing you and that he hoped I'd be able to accept it one day."

"We never intended to hurt you. It was meant to be fun at first, but now..." You cut yourself off with a sigh, unable to admit you'd fallen for her brother.

"Isn't fun for me. It's fucking embarrassing." She paused, lighting a cigarette, nervous to offer you one, conflicted within herself. She raised her eyebrow, prompting you to continue, the mannerism so similar to her brother’s.

"It should never have happened. I am never going to be able to fix this, I'm so fucking ashamed for doing this to you, Ada."

She sulked, silently drinking in your words.

"Obviously it's not going to be the same, yeah? I'm really fucking upset. I'm so fucked off with you but Poll's really worried about a coup. She thinks you're being used as blackmail against John to keep him on side with Tommy while he expands."

"Makes sense."

"You're part of a much bigger game, you know?"

You nodded. "Yeah, and I knew I would lose from the start. Fucking tragic, Ada."

"My brothers keep pushing, keep growing the business. They keep chasing this prize but I don't think it even exists."

"If it does, it isn't worth it if this shit is the cost. I didn't mean to play into his hands."

"You couldn't have known." She said with a shrug, " 'Siah thinks John loves you."

"He told me last night." Several times, this morning also. You would never tire of hearing him moan those words into your neck or being yelled from your front door as he left for the office.

"You love him, don't you?" She said bluntly, a statement more than a question, your face suddenly hot with embarrassment.

Everything you'd suppressed for months, everything that you'd hidden, every time you lied smiling, every knowing glance from a stranger, every degrading comment from under Thomas' breath.

"I do, an awful lot."

She pauses, relighting her cigarette, "The worst thing about the entire situation is it could've been fine if someone told me. I wouldn't have loved it, obviously, but-" Ada sighed, rubbing her temple with her free fingers.

"I thought you'd hate me."

"How could I? I'd be more angry that you'd drop your standards for my brother. Seriously? Him? Mate…."

"Come off it, I've always thought he was charming. He's funny, smart-"

"Don't gush over my brother, it's grim. I'm just so fucked off you all lied to me." She peered at you through her cigarette smoke. "If you love him and he loves you..." she pressed her lips together as she tensed her jaw, "I could get over it. If it'd make you both happy. But that's going to take a long time. A long time."

"Ada-"

"Look I have meetings and shit to sort, I have to run." She interjected, checking her wristwatch, adjusting the cap which sat atop her trendy short haircut. You caught her arm before she could turn away.

"Thank you. For understanding."

She shrugged you off, "I don't get it, I'd never do that to you. But you also don't get to choose who you're attracted to. I'm really hurt, but I do love you and John a lot. He mentioned that after last night you helped him, got him cleaned up. I have to believe that you both do love each other. So I have to believe that this is a good idea for you both and not stand in your way."

"I love you, Ada. Can we hang out soon, just us two?"

She shook her head. "I need some time, I'll be in touch, yeah?"

You nod, stretching out your pinky finger. She sighed and linked it with hers, as you'd done since you were children, a silent signal to each other after a fight that you still had the other's back.

"Right, I've got to get back to this meeting, Tom is getting done by Polly for nearly getting John killed. I need to be there in case one of the lads needs patching up."

"Your aunt has a nasty left hook, I'll give her that."

"She'll be pleased you think so, she wanted Tommy to slice you to bits for crossing me."

"Fuck’s sake, thanks for the warning, I'll keep my head down. Good luck with the meeting."

Ada nodded and you watched her walk away, a Blinder suddenly appearing by her side seemingly from nowhere. This city was crawling with them. They clambered into Ada's car as you watched the car disappear into the distance before walking back to work. Thankfully, with your head still attached to your shoulders.

*******

Ada arrived at Thomas' estate, following the swell of shouting voices to his exquisite library. It was eye roll worthy and typical Tommy to choose the location of his post-fuckup debrief to be where he had the best view of the gardens, river and rolling hills. She could bet he'd sit in a corner and stare at the view, zoning out their aunt's lecture.

An armed blinder she vaguely recognised opened the door. Thomas was making a statement today with the armed guards, she noted. Her brothers really were fucked up. Arthur was an alcoholic killer who couldn't understand that Thomas would betray them all eventually, Finn was letting the tokyo and the razor chasers that circled him distract him from keeping the family together, John was apparently in love with her best friend, and finally, Thomas nearly got Arthur and John murdered last night with his foolishness. At this point only herself and Polly were holding everyone together, keeping everything silently moving along.

The door opened, and she was the last to arrive, Polly glaring as she murmured an apology, standing next to Finn. His eyes were bloodshot, grey-purple smudges under his eyes, he'd obviously had a heavy night. The last thing the poor lad needed was Polly's shrill yelling and the blinding sun streaming through the large immaculately crafted windows, which he'd tried to block with the brim of his cap. John caught her eye, acknowledging his sister with a nod, which she returned with a small tight smile.

Ada couldn't bear to think about the reasoning behind her brother's smug interjections in between Polly's rant to Thomas who was listening wordlessly, smoking.

Y/N and John? It didn't make sense. They had a similar sense of humour, sure, but she was far too intelligent for him. He also had a swarm of children, while Y/N preferred a wild night out only staggering home at daybreak.

It made far more sense for Y/N to end up with Michael, or if it had to be a brother, Finn. They were younger, so had less responsibilities and commitments so they could keep up with her. But John? Of course she knew he was believed to be the Casanova of her brothers, he was kind, he was an excellent father, yet he could never keep anyone around long, usually John was chasing someone new after a month or so. That's why the revelation that John had been involved with her best friend for almost half a year had taken her completely by surprise. Maybe that was why she was open to them being together. That had to be it. This relationship was completely out of character for John; she needed to believe that he was serious about his feelings towards Y/N and wasn't going to fuck her over. Because if he did, John would be a dead man.

"I don't know why you're all bleating at me. Yeah, I overlooked some details in the planning of last night's meeting-"

"Such as warning us that they were really fucked off because you'd helped bomb their warehouse." John pointed out.

"What do you want me to do? Apologise? Grow up, John." Tommy snapped back.

"They had loaded guns against their heads, they deserve an apology." Ada interjected, John giving her an appreciative flash of smile. She did love her big brother. Despite the fact that she'd pretty much only been yelling at him for the past month, John never dismissed her feelings and only apologised. It was confusing to admit to herself, but when Isaiah told her that he was confident John loved Y/N, she felt a wave of relief. At least he cared about her; it was the bare minimum but the Shelbys were notorious for not even meeting the bare minimum for acceptable social interactions.

"They didn't fuckin’ get shot." Thomas stated, his voice matter of fact and condescending.

"Do you ever hear yourself speak?" Polly spit back at him. "They didn't get shot this time. But it was too fucking close."

"It won't happen again, Polly." Tommy sighed. "What else can I say? Sorry lads, take the weekend off?"

"It's a good start." Arthur countered, "You're also paying for the extension on my house and my wedding."

"Fuck’s sake Arthur I was joking. But fine. Sure."

"You can't buy your family off." Polly scoffed at him.

"Think of it as compensation, a settlement." Thomas coolly corrected his aunt. "What do you want, John? A fucking farm?"

John hesitates while Finn whispered suggestions to him, Ada meeting his stare, John raising a brow to her in question. She sighed and nodded her approval.

"You can pay off my mortgage Tom, give me the kids' birthdays off-"

"So you'd never come into work then?" Finn cut in, Ada elbowing him in the ribs. She usually enjoyed Finn's remarks but she knew where John was heading; she could barely breathe.

"Tom, you're also to leave Y/N completely alone. If you have a problem with her, you come to me about it." He said firmly.

Arthur and Tommy traded knowing looks, obviously more aware of the ins and outs of his relationship than Ada was.

"Also if you're paying for Arthur's wedding I want the equivalent in cash." He adds.

Tommy shrugged. "Whatever. As long as we can move past last night and focus on today's order of business."

John nodded, satisfied. He knew Tom wouldn't care, but just saying out loud that he was involved with Y/N and having his family aware was a relief. He hadn't realised until he finally admitted how stressful keeping his relationship a secret was. Now, he could stop worrying about Tommy interfering.

Polly rolled her eyes, lecturing the brothers on their lack of moral backbone to allow themselves to be bought off, but dismissed them. She caught Ada's arm in hers on their way out, pulling her far from earshot.

"So Y/N and John are together now?" She asked, her face firm and scowling.

"Polls, I talked with her, she's aware of what she's done. She apologised and meant it. What more can I ask for?"

"Her not to have fucked him in the first place."

"She said that. Look, Polls, they're happy right? John seems happy-"

"He always is when he gets a leg over."

"You know she looked after him last night? Fixed him up after the meeting."

"Meeting? It was a fucking set up." Polly hissed but her face had softened. "She cleaned him up?"

"Antiseptic, bandages and all."

Polly looked subtly impressed, although she'd never admit it. "He went to hers? Not yours?"

"He wanted to talk to her." Ada shrugs, "I saw her this morning and-"

"What do you mean? You bumped into her?"

"I went to her work." Ada admitted, her aunt shooting her an exasperated glare.

"Why do I bother? Nobody listens to me."

"I had to talk to her, I'm glad I did. She reckons she loves him, he told her last night that he loves her, so..."

"We are talking about John? Our John?"

"I know Polls, I'm as amazed as you."

Her aunt huffed, unimpressed. "Are you okay with it though?"

"I guess, I just want them to be happy. I've told them to give me time with it."

"She was a good friend growing up, but people change, sometimes for the better, often for the worse."

"Poll, it's Y/N; she's my best friend. At the end of the day, we'd do anything for each other."

"Sweet Ada, you're going to be so miserable if you keep letting people walk all over you." Polly said wisely, kissing her goodbye affectionately. "I hope you're right. If she makes you cry again I'll kill her myself."

"Thanks, Polls."

She knew her aunt wasn't joking.

[sooghostwriter]

Only on the weekends

Member/Pairing: Do Kyung Soo x OC (Nameless)

Genre/Type: Mature, Romance, AU, smut.

Warnings: Full on sexy times, pegging (NOT daddy kink, NOT kink, just good old Christian pegging).

Word count: 11001 words (yikes, a third of the fic)

Notes: This story takes place wherever you want. You will see why it would be weird to center it in Korea.

Thank you to all of you who waited patiently for this last chapter. It was hard to focus on writing because of ADHD and life, but I'm glad I could finish it because I really wanted to write this scene. Scene that was the only reason why I started this fic, that then grew up a bit too much.

Also, thank you to my dear friend @thedeviousdo. Steph, thank you for answering whenever I asked you for your opinion and for fixing everything that needed to be fixed.

Summary: She is saved by a caring man from a little mishappening in the middle of the forest. A small act of kindness turns into seasons of laughs, food, fun, care, love, and sex.

Final Chapter

-Spring-

She was driving back home when she got a call from him. She pressed the answering button, and enjoyed how his voice filled her car “Hulder, I got good news”

“Are you getting a hot tub so we can have sex al fresco?” Kyung Soo snorted and told her he was still thinking about it “Anyway, as I was saying, I have good news, I got two weeks of vacations” Those were indeed good news “You got any plans, my man?”

“No, I want to stay one week at home, I have some things to do, but I don’t have plans for the other week” She offered him an idea. She told him that he could go to the city and stay with her. She had to work, but they could go out during the afternoon, and during the day he could meet his parents, friends, go to the cinema, shopping, etc. “I like it, I really like it, so this weekend, instead of you going to my place, I’m going to you”

“Sounds great, what about Baekhyun, Chanyeol, and the rest?”

“Chanyeol, the human, can stay at my house and take care of them, I need to buy food for him…so see you this Saturday morning?”

“Or Friday night” He agreed to Friday night. So instead of going home, she went to the supermarket.

Her home was clean, the heater was on, food ready to serve and Kyung Soo was parking in front of her building. She loved how he could make her feel butterflies all over her body just by smoothly getting his jeep between two city cars.

She greeted him with a long kiss. She was so happy to have him there, in her home, and for a week. This was going to be the longest they would spend together “What if this is some kind of test for our relationship and we end up hating each other?” She asked him as she served him a plate of creamy Ricotta Corn and Tomato Ziti. He grabbed a bite and took his time to praise her cooking before answering “I don’t think I could hate you, and I’m confident that this week is going to be me going out during the day, and us having sex during the night, there are a lot of surfaces we could try” He looked around nodding and took another big bite of food “Sir, I have to work, don’t forget that”

“I already thought about it, you finish work at six, I pick you up, we go out, we come back by nine, we fuck, and you are going to be sleeping by eleven” She was giggling uncontrollably “You have everything planned uh? I like it, probably I’m not going to function properly the next day, but who cares” He also shared with her his full schedule for that week. Visiting friends, going to the cinema, buying some clothes for the summer, it was a long list “It’s going to be fun” He commented cheerfully “Yeah I’m sure, you probably need to get your eyebrows done too”

“What?” He looked up from his plate, eyebrows up, eyes wide, completely lost. She kept quiet, controlling her smile “What? What do you mean? What’s wrong with my eyebrows?” He insisted, slightly annoyed, but still amused “Nothing, they are perfect, I’m sure you spend some time at the saloon fixing them”

“Are you making fun of me?” He was less annoyed now, smiling with her “A little bit, is cute” He rubbed his eyebrows, looking up “What’s with them, they are alright”

“They are perfect, I love them” He smiled and dropped the issue. But she kept giggling about it for a while.

She cleaned the table as Kyung Soo spoke with his parents, arranging breakfast and lunch with them. They knew about her, her parents knew about him, but none of their families were particularly nosy about their kid’s private life. And they weren’t in a hurry to introduce each other to their respective families.

She had just turned on the dishwasher when he walked behind her and captured her against his chest, dropping a kiss behind her ear “Wanna use one of your surfaces?” He asked, tightening his grip around her “We just ate, what about a nice walk around the neighborhood and then you fuck me”

“Sounds perfect” He dropped a kiss on her other ear and let her go so they could get ready.

As he promised. Kyung Soo picked her up at work every single day. They went on simple fun dates and then they arrived home so Kyung Soo could have his way with her. And she could have her way with him. Their time at her place made them very creative in the matters of sex. Slow, deep and messy or fast, hard and desperate. Sex where no words were needed. Sex where they kept making sure that the other was alright with what they were doing. Whenever they fucked at his place there was hunger in their movements. The first fuck of the weekend was always desperate, a bit harsh sometimes. Now it wasn't the complete opposite. It wasn't calmer, but the pace was different. They both knew that the next evening they were going to be at the same place. Time was different. Instead of enjoying the most from each other for two days, they had eight days to doing so. Although watching time pass was terrible.

By now she knew his body like hers. She could draw him by memory, with her eyes closed. She fell in love with waking up seeing his beautiful profile and going to sleep listening to his deep voice.

He left on Monday, and she felt incredibly sad to see him go. Instead of worrying about fighting with Kyung Soo after spending a week together, she should have worried about not wanting to let him go after spending a whole week with him. She got used to their casual intimacy too soon. She was missing his hand on her back as they walked inside a restaurant. His head on her shoulder when they were having breakfast.

She loved the small gestures and the soft displays of care. Always tender, always natural, and most of the time with a message of possession. And she didn’t care, because she was the same. She knew what her eyes said when she looked at him.

Mine.

---

She wasn't very fond nor connected with nature. But she felt like celebrating the official beginning of spring.

The weather in the city was still a bit cold, but the weather at the farm was already warmer. The threes were blooming, on their way to growing fruits during the summer. Baekhyun was shedding, and brushing his hair was one of her favorite parts of the weekend.

On Saturday, Kyung Soo had an emergency at work and left for the rest of the day. She was in charge of feeding the animal and making dinner. She fetched the veggies from his greenhouse all by herself, which later got her a congratulatory kiss from him.

They had dinner outside. It wasn’t warm, but nothing that a good poncho couldn’t fix. The sky was so clean that night, that they had to stay outside and enjoy the stars.

When they finished dinner, they sat outside, covered by a thick blanket and sharing a big cup of coffee “Love, I have an idea” He offered after sipping their coffee “Let’s go to the river for a night swim” She felt the excitement in her chest. Words weren’t needed, she stood up and Kyung Soo lead the way.

The flashlight they brought was unnecessary. The moon was bright enough to illuminate their path “Isn’t the water too cold to swim?”

“No, at night is always a bit…a tiny bit warmer, not super cold”

“Kyung Soo, just say is cold”

“It’s not! I swear is not as cold as during the day” She sank her hand on the water, and in fact, it wasn’t too cold, it was just cold. She turned around to mess with him but forgot her line of thought after catching him shirtless, pulling down his pants. The sight of his pretty butt covered in black boxer briefs was the only thing that mattered now. She felt like giving it a good bite. He folded his clothes and left them on top of a rock, away from the water “Are we skinny dipping?”

“That sounds fun, but I would rather not, I don’t want a river shrimp messing with my balls” She cackled, unable to continue taking off her shirt, so Kyung Soo helped her.

So, they got into the water on their underwear. And to her surprise, the water wasn’t very cold. Slightly lukewarm was probably the right way to describe it. And the outside was colder than the water, so it was a nice contrast. Still not better than a hot tub, which Kyung Soo still hadn’t bought “You will have your hot tub, I’m still thinking where can we install it so it looks good with the whole house, and we can also have privacy” He told her when she insisted “But babe, If you don’t want one don’t buy it, I just insist because I’m annoying like that”

“Nah, I want one too, Chanyeol’s mom got one and she always speaks wonders about it when I go visit her” She arranged her body against him, hugging his waist and resting her head on his shoulder “You go visit her often?”

“She is like a second mom”

“Invite her next week then, I will like to meet her” Some weeks ago she had met Kyung Soo’s friends. Finally, he decided to share his time with her, with his group of friends. It wasn’t something she would like to repeat too often though. It was a lot of work and energy. It was a group of four guys, but it felt like a village. They all had a lot of questions, a lot to share about Kyung Soo without his approval, a lot of stories. It was fun, messy, and heartwarming. Something that they could do once a month, not more than that. After all, their time was theirs and precious. She knew Kyung Soo was careful with how he shared his time. His work, his house, his farm, and his friends. At least that’s what she saw. She wondered if, in the past, a girlfriend was able to get into that schedule “Kyung Soo, You don't get lonely here?” She began building up her question “No, I spend a lot of time alone, which I like, but also I have my friends in town and I have you”

“What about before me, what about girls?” The building up kind of backfired on her, she wasn’t expecting the displeasure she felt the moment the word ‘girls’ left her mouth. She didn’t want to imagine girls, not in his present, not in his past “Girls?”

“Mmh, yes, girls, you didn't get lonely before?” She closed her eyes tightly, feeling stupid and hating where she was going with all this “No I didn't”

“That's good” Something in her voice made him search for her face, holding her chin softly “Is this jealousy?”

“No” She denied, poorly. He called her name followed by a chuckle, but she ignored him “Well, I must say, I like it, I like this jealousy quite a lot my love” She raised her right arm to slap his chest and make him stop, but he held her wrist and pulled her to his chest, capturing her between his strong arms. It was equally annoying and arousing “I knew who to call” He confessed, serious and honest “Good for you” He chuckled, caressing between her furrowed brows “But it's different with you”

“How?” She asked not sure of what kind of answer she was expecting “You don't shy away, you ask for more and I always want to give you more” He quickly clarified that he wasn’t comparing, but rather voicing out what he liked about her “I like some things, I enjoy doing some things and I know you can give them to me” She said through pouting lips. By now she kept acting like this because she knew Kyung Soo was enjoying it “I still don’t have enough of you, and I hope you are still excited about sharing time with me”

“I don’t think I’m ever going to feel less excited about sharing my time with you Hulder, ever”

“Are we talking sex-wise or love-wise?” She blurted out, not sure why she needed the clarification “Both” She sighed heavily, relieved and happy. Despite being surprised by her own questions, she knew that she could be this vulnerable with him. That he was going to answer, and maybe ask for clarifications later “I don’t want to make promises Kyung Soo, but you know that with me, you only need to ask and I will fulfill what you want” A smirk that she could only describe as dark arose in his lips “Are we talking sex-wise or love wise?” He threw it back at her “Both”

“Anything I want?” She nodded, her mouth replicating his smile. He called her with one finger. She moved her head closer to his, his warm lips brushing her ear. The noise of the river and the threes moving over them went mute and she could only hear his voice confessing what he wanted. She couldn’t believe how incredibly lucky she was, after hearing his whispered request. Later came the shock, after really processing what felt like a fantasy “You want me to peg you?” She asked in a soft whisper “I’m sure you are experienced” He commented offhandedly as he caressed her surprised face “How?”

“The way you touch me” He shrugged as his hand moved down her back, resting on her ass. Yes, she had played with his ass a couple of times, just because it was there and she knew it would feel great. She was surprised, and grateful when he accepted the touch “Are you sure?” She let herself show some of her excitement “I am” He answered amused “It could hurt”

“Not if you are careful”

“Have you done it before?”

“Not pegging, but I have done some things to myself” She closed her eyes, taking in his confession, imagining. And of course, getting aroused by it. The image of a Kyung Soo masturbating with some toy was something that never crossed her mind before, and now was everything she wanted to see. He looked gorgeous in her head.

He tapped her thigh and blew hair on her face “Stop imagining it”

“Can I see it?”

“No…well, we will see” That was enough for her “Can I see you?” He asked raising an eyebrow “Of course! I can do it now if you want, wanna watch me?” She started pulling down her underwear “Not now, just focus on the sky and the water” He stopped her hands and arranged her between his legs, hugging her against his chest.

---

She was out of the game one weekend because of her period. But at this point that was hardly something to lament. She still went to visit him, and still indulge with the pleasurable act of cuddle him and look at him. Caress his cute little head as he rested on her chest. Look into his magnificent wide eyes as he shared stories and sweet words with her. Kissing his button nose, caressing his soft cheeks, hear the prettiest laugh and his deep voice. At night she liked to play with his hair, rub his back and kiss the moles splattered over his body.

Those ways of intimacy, just whisper to each other at night, follow him around the kitchen just because she felt slightly cold and his back was always warm against her chest. Those moments made her see that all this was way deeper than any of them could imagine or recognize.

She knew his name and his smile will linger in her mind for a long time, even if everything ended at some point.

She used those previous days to prepare for Kyung Soo’s big night, as she liked to call it. He told her to order an extra bottle of lube because he was running out of it. Request that straight up turned her on. She had to do some shopping too. She had a harness that fit her perfectly and rubbed her in the right places, so she wasn’t planning on buying a new one. She did have to fish it from the bottom of her wardrobe since she hadn’t used it in years. But she did have to buy a new dildo. Hers was too big, and she didn’t feel like sharing it. So that night after work she went into her favorite sex shop website and bought what she needed. Next day delivery.

The moment she picked up her package she began feeling nervous. And that nervousness continued the following days. Kyung Soo noticed it over their video call and didn’t hesitate on making fun of her. But after he had his laugh, he made sure she was fine with all this “You want to talk about it?” He offered, sitting down at the table and resting the phone somewhere “Of course, I like talking about anything with you”

“What’s making you so nervous?” He asked calmly “Don’t laugh, but I started feeling a bit of pressure like you are losing your virginity and I have to make it unforgettable” He was quick to tell her how silly she was between giggles “Don’t laugh! I’m being serious, I’m preparing thoroughly” That caught his attention, his cute eyebrows showing his interest “What do you mean preparing? I’m the one that should prepare”

“Well sir, if you need to know, I just got in the mail the lube you asked for, and a new dildo”

“A new dildo?”

“Yeah, I could share mine, but it’s too big” He looked curious “How big?”

“As big as you, happy?” He chuckled again, shaking his head “I see, yeah, I think it could be too much for my first time…what else did you buy?” To his disappointment, there was nothing else to show. But the banter made her considerably less worried “I love that we can just talk about things like this”

“About you buying a dildo to fuck me this weekend?” He asked, looking serious but failing and breaking into a smile “Yeah, exactly that”

“Well, I love it too, I’m sorry it's making you anxious, but don’t overthink it and don’t worry, because I’m not, I can’t wait for this Friday” If Kyung Soo was there with her, she would be kissing him by now. They kept talking, with Kyung So throwing jokes at her nervous self until it was time to go to bed, and she excused herself saying she needed a shower “Take me with you then, leave the phone on the sink and keep the curtain open”

“Keep dreaming mister”

“I’m probably going to” She stuck her tongue at him and walked to the bathroom “Are you taking me with you?” He asked excitedly. She answered with an emphatic no “I know, I’m going to leave you then, have a good night of sleep and take care, I love you, beautiful”

“I love you too Kyung Soo, take care” She hung up after sending him a kiss and left her phone on top of the toilet.

She was exfoliating her elbows when it down on her. Kyung Soo said I love you and she said it back, as natural as when she cursed at her coworkers. Just coming from her heart.

She kept washing herself, not thinking too hard about it, only smiling the entire time.

She got ready for bed with the same smile, but this time wondering about things. Things related to Kyung Soo and their confession. She was sure she loved him. Whatever she was feeling could be easily described as love. He had become someone important to her. Probably one of the most important relationships in her life. And not only romantically speaking. She knew she loved him, maybe since a while ago. And now she knew he loved her, which was what was making her so happy. And she could only feel lucky by aiming her feelings and her dedication to him.

She was glad she said it back, like that, over the phone, after a fun, short talk. Easy going in comfortable, like everything between them.

Before falling asleep she stayed a long time staring at the ceiling. Covers up to her chin, feet moving under the covers, an incessant giggle rumbling in the back of her mouth. Pure bliss warming up her body as she thought about their first encounter and everything that followed. Spending almost a year with this beautiful man, which gave her butterflies in her chest and her pussy just by thinking about him. Who always gave it to her a little nasty and a little romantic.

----

She took the highway with a furrow on her face.

That Friday, work was horrible. She was tired, hungry, and slightly frustrated. It was 7 PM, the sun was still up and spring was already showing itself in each tree she passed by. Kyung Soo called her when she was halfway to his place. She put him on speaker and immediately relaxed a bit with his hello. She was sure Kyung Soo sensed something because instead of saying something about how excited he was, how he was waiting for her, he told her to drive carefully and that dinner was waiting for her.

After parking outside his house and pet Baekhyun, she went inside his house and greet him in the kitchen. He dried his hands and walked to her with a soft smile on his lips. He opened his arms wide and she felt something pulling her. With two quick steps, she reached for him and hugged him tightly, getting slightly emotional at the feeling of his arms enveloping her. She released a long sight and nestled her head on his shoulder, hiding on his neck “Long week?” He caressed her head and chuckled when she purred with his touch “Long and weird”

“Do you want to eat what I prepared for you and get drunk with wine?” She hugged him tighter, kissing his neck “That sounds amazing, but what about our night?”

“You mean you pegging me?”

“I have everything ready, but I’m so tired, and my head it’s just not here now” Kyung Soo grabbed her by the shoulders and made her look at him “Hulder, say what you need to say”

“You better offer it” He shook his head slowly, smiling warmly “You have to say it, you always have to tell me how you feel and what you need” She wanted to roll her eyes, but instead she hugged him tighter “Kyung Soo, can we leave the fun for tomorrow?”

“Of course we can, now go wash your hands, dinner is ready” She let go of him with a bit of resistance and kissed him on the cheek. Before going inside the bathroom, she called his name “Kyung Soo, what am I?” He put down the plates, chuckling. “You are such a good girl” She covered her mouth, shrieking, and went to wash her hands.

Kyung Soo prepared a delicious Cajun chicken with roasted potatoes and listened to her rant about work, the city, and the rude neighbor. They finished a bottle of wine over dinner and they opened another one to drink outside since the night was warm. In the beginning, they laid down in different deck chairs, but soon after Kyung Soo climbed on hers. Resting between her legs and laying his head on her chest. He dozed off a couple of times, but she didn’t. She was too focused on caressing his back and kissing his head “I like how warm you feel” He commented between yawns “Kyung Soo, when summer comes and it gets annoyingly hot, can I shave your head?” He knew how much she liked that look on him, so she was sure the proposal wasn’t strange for him “Sure... Are you planning on staying with me until summer?” His voice sounded playful, even confident. But the finger drawing circles in her waist betrayed him “I'm planning on staying with you until you get tired of me” He kept quiet. And he didn’t need to say anything. She could feel his response “Let’s go inside, it’s getting cold” He got up, rubbing his eyes, and helped her get up from the deck chair. She held his hand and didn’t let go as they got inside the house “Let’s go to the forest tomorrow” He offered as he locked the door, without letting go of her hand “Sure, I haven’t been there in months, but what if we met the real Hulder?” She covered her mouth in fake worry “If we encounter her, we share her” He giggled, like always, and walked her inside the house, turning off the light on his way “Ok, but you can’t fuck her, if you don’t satisfy her she could kill you” She teased “Why wouldn’t I satisfy her?!”

“I don’t know Kyung Soo, I’m not her, I don’t know what she likes” She let go of his hand as she got inside his room “I’m still not sure about that, I still have my suspicions about you being a Hulder”

“Well my love, I haven’t kill you yet, so If I am a Hulder, I’m satisfied” He gave her one of his goofy laughs, and held her face, kissing her cheek.

They chatted for a short while before going to sleep. As she cuddled in Kyung Soo’s chest, he kissed her ear and hugged her tighter “I love you” He whispered, “I love you too” The answer came as easily as before.

That Saturday was a slow one. They went out of bed late, she went to feed the chicken as Kyung Soo prepared brunch. Around five, they packed some water and food into a backpack and they went for their planned walk to the forest. Hansel and Gretel without the drama. This time Baekhyun went with them, but on a leash, his tail wagging in happiness.

The trees were bright green or deep dark. The smell of the leaves, the sun hitting the floor and the humble wildflowers hit her nose almost violently. Her senses were always invaded whenever she visited him. In the best way possible.

Kyung Soo held her hand, probably fearing another accident in the forest. In between comments about how beautiful that flower was, or gasps caused by wildlife passing by them, they held a light conversation. As always, the topics were diverse and flowed easily. Picking up where they left when necessary. When a bit of silence fell upon them, she asked what she had been wondering since the morning but needed some build-up to finally ask “Today we are doing it right?” She didn’t need to explain “Of course, did you change your mind?” He asked with his usual calm “No! Of course not, it's just I can't even imagine how to start” He stopped walking and turned around, grabbing her other hand and holding her stare “This is how we start, we take a bath, then you leave me there so I can prepare myself and you can go prepare too” She gasped “That sounds perfect, let's go then” She pulled him in the opposite direction, but he stopped her. He let go of her hand and passed an arm around her shoulders, pulling her in for a kiss. After kissing her long and hard, he let go of her “Now we can go”. He grabbed her right hand tightly and pulled her with him, almost making her trip.

They still had some things to do around the house. But they both worked quickly.

The gate and doors of his house were locked and every single animal fed “I’m going to get the tub ready” She told him as he connected his phone to the charger “Call me when is ready then".

She filled the tub with hot water, spread some bath salts with citric scents, and only called him in when she was naked and submerged in the water. Kyung Soo came in shirtless and gasped stunned “It smells so good, and you look amazing in there”

“Come and join me” She purred, opening her legs to give him space as he pulled down his pants. He looked at her amused when she told him to sit between her legs and rest his back on her chest. He liked the idea. When she hugged him closer to her breast he sighed happily, sinking deeper in the water. She cupped some water on her hand and spilled it on his shoulders, nape, and neck. She poured some soap on her hand and started lapping his body. His muscles relaxed under her hand. His skin kept getting warmer, and he kept sighing in contentment “Are you feeling ok?” She asked him, whispering in his ear. He chuckled and laid back, pushing her to rest her back against the bathtub “Now is perfect” She began washing up his chest, rubbing his skin softly, slowly. She enjoyed that part way too much.

Kyung Soo spoke softly, chatting about small, unimportant things. His way to relax her, she was sure. But he didn’t have to. Not that she wasn’t nervous anymore. She was just growing more and more aroused. The hot water, his body against hers, touching him everywhere she wanted. His hands were exploring her thighs or grabbing hers to drop a kiss or guide them wherever he wanted them. It was impossible to be nervous or worried when distracted by him like that.

But she noticed how he started to grow a bit impatient. He was moving slightly restless, his grip on her thighs slightly tighter “I think we got you clean babe” She whispered in his ear. He straightened up in one sudden movement, almost comically, and patted her leg, hurrying her up. She went out, splashing his head with soapy water, and grabbed one of the towels “I’m going to leave you so you can prepare then”

“I will be there as soon as I can”

“No, don’t, I mean, take tour time” Kyung Soo gave her an exasperated look calling her name, elongating the last sound, provably seeing the worry in her face and voice “Don’t worry, go get dry” He splashed her some water and she finally walked out of the bathroom.

Trying to follow Kyung Soo’s advice to not to worry, she began preparing too. She brought the lube, harness, and dildo from her bag and toss them on the bed. Immediately, questions began flooding her head. Was it too soon to use a strap? Kyung Soo did tell her that he had used toys in the past. But what if the dildo was too big? What if he didn’t know how to prepare himself? Should she had brought poppers? Where poppers legal? What if she hurt him with her big dildo, not enough lube, and the lack of poppers? What if she traumatized him for not being able to fuck her boyfriend the right way?

She was pulled out of her panic when Kyung Soo grabbed her hips and pulled her to him. Capturing her by the waist and pressing his body to hers. He whispered her name on her ear and nuzzled her neck “What are you doing standing here?” She didn’t know what to answer. He moved his hands over her body “At least you are dry…is everything alright?” After a couple of seconds, she answered, or tried to “Is everything going to be alright?” She asked him trying to, as always, find some calm in him “Everything is going to be amazing, fucking amazing” He was able to pull a laugh out of her “Are those your implements?” He pointed at the bed where the three pieces rested “Yeah, lube, strap, and dildo, you like it?”

“It’s pretty, good size too, can’t wait to see you wearing it, why aren’t you wearing it?”

She turned around, hugging him by the shoulders pressing her chest against his. She always liked how his face changed whenever she did that “I was panicking a little bit, and forgot what I had to do” He kissed her nose and gave her a soft slap in her left thigh “Get on the bed and kneel over there” He ordered pointing at the edge of the bed. She took two steps back and climbed on the bed. She kneeled where he said and stretched her arms calling for him. He walked into her arms with a grin on his lips, holding her close, as he always did “Kiss me” He whispered, not that she needed the order, but she appreciated the low whisper. As soon as her lips grabbed onto his lower lip, something inside of her unleashed. Something between them began. Kyung Soo always deepened the kiss, sucking on her tongue and getting her first moan. She was so addicted to grabbing his hair as he sucked on her lips, stroking his shoulders as he rubbed her tongue with his. With one last lick to her lower lip, he moved along her jaw and down the slope of her neck. Their hasten breaths were synchronized, as their hands caressed each other’s skin. His lips were just a breath away from hers as he whispered beautiful things about her body, about his want. And she wanted, needed to give him everything he wanted. But his touch always overpowered hers. His hand moved with confidence and decision over her body. Knowing that he had complete freedom to do whatever he wanted. Confident that he knew just what she liked. She had that confidence too. But she was always so distracted by him.

He moved his hands down her waist, fondling her ass sweetly, making her giggle with the tickles. His hand kept moving down between her thighs until he reached her center moaning in triumph as he moved his fingers softly over her folds, spreading her wetness “You are already wet” He said, looking at her with wonder “I sure am…you get me like this so easily”

“Is it my touch or what is about to come?” He held her stare as he kept moving his fingers slow enough to drive her mad “It’s both, it’s everything, are you nervous?” She was acting a bit selfish worrying about her side of the story, of what she could do wrong, without checking on him first. Although he kept reassuring her how much he wanted this, she needed to check every step with him. His comfort, and his consent “A bit” He scrunched his nose, looking down “Relax” She whispered, caressing his ear “Touching you relaxes me” He rested his head on her hand “Then go ahead” A rumble of laughter in Kyung Soo’s throat made her sight, feeling completely taken by him “You are really looking forward to this” He joked “Really, really, really” She hid her face in his neck, already feeling a bit too much. Feeling like melting into his body. She grabbed his right hand, and he stopped moving immediately “Not yet?” He asked, voice soft and genuine. She only shook her head and with frenzy licked her way up to his neck, getting more moans and whispers in her ear. Although she wanted her pleasure, and she knew she was going to get it later, this was about Kyung Soo. And she wanted to make him lose his mind between her arms and legs.

She straightened her back, and whatever look she was giving him, he liked it. She could tell by the slight blushing and the cute smile on his lips. She reached for him with both hands, caressing his cheeks, feeling their warmth. She followed the path of his necks, shoulders, her fingers brushing his stiff nipples. With only her fingertips she caressed the soft lines of her stomach and kept moving down, inexorably towards his cock, but she passed it by and moved down his thighs, before going back upwards. This time she did what they both wanted and with one hand she began pumping his cock and held his waist with the other. She pushed down towards his pubic bone and then hard against the top of his dick. He was now fully erect, thrusting into her fingers.

Shame or even self-control were two concepts that weirdly applied to their relationship, so with that freedom falling upon them, she put her hands to work. One hand went to his balls, massaging and pulling, just hard enough, using the knowledge she has gathered over months of knowing him and touching him. Her other hand clasped around the base of his cock and squeezed. He choked out her name, and grabbed her face in his hands, bringing her lips to his, without kissing her. Just breathing and cursing on her mouth. She stayed like that, one hand around his balls, the other around his cock, swelling it. He got his pleasure, she got hers, and also an injection of confidence with every word of encouragement he roared in her lips. There was fire flowing through them, melting every cell of their bodies. She wanted him to go down on her, to ride his thigh, suck his dick. So many things. But above all that, she wanted to feel the strap around her hips. The power and unrestrained satisfaction that came from it.

Following a long, deep moan, he let go of her face and grabbed her wrists, stopping her hands from moving. He kept quiet, staring at her lips, frowning, a light sweat forming on his temples. Her body shivered with the tension he was forming. If he wanted her to beg she would do it happily “Kiss me, Kyung Soo, please” She felt his grip tightened, as he granted her wish, kissing her hard and fast. The kiss was short, as he began kissing across her chest, slowly, firmly. He traced along her collar bones, her nipples, lingering there, biting them, and pulling them. She was suddenly very aware of them as one of his hands let go of her and traced a line down her sternum, across her stomach, and in one swift move he cupped her pussy and inserted two fingers in. He did it in time to his lips pinching her nipples. She shouted in pleasure, throwing her head back, moving her hips as his fingers continued moving inside of her. His lips kissed their way to her ear and with a low whisper he asked her “Do you want me to make you come?” She shook her head, her mouth too busy moaning “You want to make me come?” She nodded, searching for his lips, but not succeeding. He was now away from her, his hand had moved from between her legs to her hips “Then put that on and do it” He pointed at the middle of the bed where the strap on was. She noticed how his fingers were still wet, so in an attempt to balance the power, she grabbed his hand at took it to her mouth, sucking him clean “Sit down and watch me get ready” He smiled as she gave his fingers a last suck. Kyung Soo sat at the edge of the bed and handed her the strap. She grabbed it and told him to pay attention “So next time you can put it on me, it’s not hard, but I’m particular about the tightness”

“I’m going to burn it in my memory”

“Very good” She slid the piece up her legs and arranged the straps over her hips and under her thighs. With clumsy fingers, due to the whole situation and a bit of rustiness from her side, she arranged the sliders, tightening them around her body. The dildo moved rather comically as she accommodated the strap, but it was part of the experience so she just giggled. Once she was done, Kyung Soo reached for her, so she took a step closer and let his hands wander over her strap “It doesn’t hurt, or scratch your skin?”

“No, this is good quality, no chafe, water-resistant, I can even wash it in the washing machine” He chuckled and with one finger followed the line of the purple dildo “Nice color” He commented, weighing it on the palm of his hand “You like it? Like how I look on it?” He stood up and pulled her to him by the straps of the harness “I like it, and you look beautiful, tell me what to do now” She took a deep breath, her heart racing “Get on the bed, to start, get on your hands and knees, I’m going to prepare you and then we can start, is that alright?” He took a deep breath, clearly feeling the same things she did, and nodded once “It’s alright, I’m a bit embarrassed, I’m not sure that’s the right word, maybe a bit self-conscious”

“I think that’s the right word, but don’t worry, you are going to start enjoying it soon” He nodded again and gave her a peck on the lips, turning around and climbing on the bed.

She had to slap herself to wake up from the daze of watching him just give himself to her, and to pump herself up. This was going to be unforgettable for both. And it was all in her hands. And she was going to do it perfectly. She was going to fuck the hell out of him.

She already knew how much experience he had. How much he could take, after speaking long and open about it over a couple of phone calls. She knew she didn’t need to explain too much to him either. But she knew she had to check on him in every step, after all, this wasn’t the same as using his fingers or a butt plug. Kyung Soo handed her the bottle of lube and arranged himself on the bed, as he told him, on his hands and knees.

She felt so lucky, so incredibly in love with him. Especially when he looked over his shoulder and asked her what she was waiting for “I’m sorry, I was just taking you in”

“Yeah? Looks good?”

“So incredibly good”

“I’m glad, so…I just have to stay here” She kneeled next to him and held his cheek, making him look at her “Stay here, relax, tell me if you feel any discomfort and if you like it…I want to hear that too” He nodded and patted her thigh, hurrying her. She went back to her previous position and squirted a good amount of lube in her fingers, spread it around her dildo, and then reached for his hole. At the first touch, he jolted, so she stopped immediately. He told her to go ahead, so she did. She moved the tip of her fingers in circles, covering the exterior with lube. Massaging to help him relax and stimulate him. With one long breath, he bent his elbows, resting his head on the bed, bringing his hips up. She smiled to herself and followed the need of her other hand. She grabbed his thigh, moving her hand up slowly until she reached his behind giving it a hard squeeze “Kyung Soo, babe, can I spank you later?” He released a breathy laugh “Sure you can, it’s only fair, I always spank you”

“Thank you” She whispered, vibrating with excitement. She kept moving her hand up, caressing the dimples on his back, staying there a bit longer as she kept massaging his entrance. Feeling it warmer, and definitely more relaxed. She looked at his body, feeling some appetite growing in her. A need to lick up his spine and taste the gold that came from the sun. She kissed his lower back and kept moving up. Kissing and licking each bump of his spine. Kyung Soo had his face hidden on his arms, she could hear low moans escaping his lips as he moved his hips, seeking more of her touch. Arching his back, begging her to enter. She positioned herself behind him and held to his hips, grinding the strap onto him slowly. He released a breathy laugh “What?” She asked surprised “I’m so turn on is stupid” He followed by a chuckle. She laughed with him, grinding again against him, turning his cute laugh into a moan “I need to prepare you some more though” She offered with a bit of worry “I’m fine, I already took care of it” She didn’t want to make him wait anymore, so she reapplied lubricant on him “Take a deep breath, relax and release as it goes in”

“Ok”

“And tell me if it hurts”

“I will” She kissed his right cheek and eased into him slowly. She saw in awe how he opened up for her. Slowly, with a slight resistance, but with a soft yet constant pressure, she was able to get half of the strap inside him. She listened closely to his sounds. Grunts mixed with soft moans, his shoulders looked tense, but the curve of his back told her that he wasn’t that bad. She had to ask anyway “Are you feeling alright?” She stopped moving before getting his answer “It feels weird, but no pain whatsoever”

“Want me to go on?”

“Yes please, I want it all in” She jolted as she felt his sentence hit her right on her clit. Excitement rumbled in her chest imagining how good it was going to get. Because it was never enough, she purred some more lube on her and kept pushing in, holding his hips with one hand and the base of the dildo with the other. Soon enough, she was all in.

Kyung Soo asked her to stay there, without moving so he could get used to the fullness. She caressed his thighs and back, looking at where they were connected with a big smile. She liked looking at his buff frame in the bed, under her. Because even if they were the same height, she always felt smaller in his arms. A sense of him covering her, embracing her. It wasn’t bad at all, but she always enjoyed being on the other side. Now she didn’t feel bigger, she wasn’t seeking that. But she felt him as something precious between her arms. Someone she needed to take care of, be very careful not to hurt him. Never to hurt him.

Kyung Soo’s shoulders were now fully relaxed and breathing more steadily. He reached behind with one hand and grabbed her hand that was resting in his left hip “I’m good now, move” She didn’t answer, only held onto his hand and began moving. Her hips backed up enough to leave only the tip of the strap in, and then with a slow motion, she went back in. He offered less resistance this time, but she was equally amazed and aroused by his body taking her in. He shivered, breathing faster. His hand let go of hers and went to his dick, pumping himself slowly. She moaned, lowering her chest, and hugging him from behind. Kyung Soo answered with a moan, lifting his head from the mattress and resting on his hands. She kissed his shoulders and neck, and he moaned, turning his face, searching for her lips. The cuteness and sexiness of it all made her buck her lips a bit harder, to which Kyung Soo answered with a louder moan. She was going to apologize for the sudden move, but he interrupted her “Like that, keep moving like that babe” She held his hips and straightened her back, arranging her angle. Now that she had his permission, she began experimenting with different speeds. Going in slowly, bucking her hips harder, in one swift move or faster, going in and out quickly. He was gasping with pleasure, getting out soft moans. Heat was unfurling in her core and she felt a quickening in her veins. She wasn’t going to come, neither Kyung Soo, but the sensation was close to that. The faster she moved her hips, the more she felt the strap rubbing her. There wasn’t a direct stimulation, but rather a constant pressure that kept her aroused. That and seeing her boyfriend enjoying this. Kyung Soo’s back was glistening, his muscles showing more due to the current workout.

She lowered her hips, trying a different angle, and started making small circles with them “Fuck, that feels amazing” He grunted, his mouth open and panting. She repeated the movement and grew a bit more confident, finally owning her role. She began pulling his ass into her as she pushed into him. Then slid out of him, and squeezed his ass, dropping the first slap. He jolted, releasing a gasp mixed with a moan “Do it again” She repeated her moves, getting another moan.

After a couple of times, Kyung Soo patted her thigh, calling for a time out “It's everything ok?”

“It is, it really is, I’m just a bit…overwhelmed” She used that time to reapply lube in their dildo, as Kyung Soo controlled his breathing. She massaged his thighs and butt cheeks, and despite how beautiful was her current view. She missed his face. She missed looking at him as they had sex, seeing his pleasure take over. His dark eyes and red, wet lips “Kyung Soo would you turn around so I can watch you” She asked softly, sweetly, knowing that it will take some convincing from her side. And his answer was what she expected “Is it really necessary?” Followed by a groan “Please, do it for me, I really want to see you, and also is going to feel great I promise”

“I know it will” He grunted again and slowly turned around, hissing as he sat on the bed “What? What is it? Does it hurt? Did I peg you wrong?” He started chuckling, covering his face with both hands “No you didn’t peg me wrong, I’m alright” He arranged his head on the pillows, dried his forehead with the back of his hand, and looked at her with hooded eyes “What?” She asked, fixing her hair, slightly self-conscious under his stare “You look gorgeous” He muttered, uncovering his face “I do?” Kyung Soo’s legs were slightly open, so she got in between them, hovering over him, one hand on each side of his head “You too, so beautiful” He gave her a beaming smile, turning his head to the side to drop a kiss on her wrist. The shine of his neck, covered in sweat, caught her attention. She lowered her body and dropped a kiss on his jaw. When Kyung Soo tried to turn around and kissed her, she grabbed his chin and held his head still, giving her better access to his neck “I’m all sweaty” He complained, but she ignored him, leaving a couple of love bites on her way. After showering his face with kisses, she pushed herself up, arranging herself between his legs. She took in his current estate. Messy hair, red lips, and shiny eyes, his neck now marked by her, sweaty chest, still breathing heavily. She could tell he was enjoying all this. Hopefully thanks to her. But what made her the proudest was the red, hot erection he was displaying “Look at you, so pretty” She simply observed, but still made Kyung Soo chuckle with a bit of embarrassment. She was hovering over him again, trying to go for another kiss, when her hair popped out the bobby pin she had put on. Locks of hair cascaded over her face, tickling his face, getting in the way. She lifted one hand from the mattress trying to fix it, but Kyung Soo bit her on it. He passed his fingers through her hair and then carefully placed it behind her ear. With soft fingers he caressed down the shell of her ear, rubbing her earlobe. She moaned with his touch, closing her eyes in pure pleasure “You liked that?” He asked amused “I like how soft you are”

“Soft?”

“Yes, soft, because even when you are rough with me, it’s rooted in your tenderness, the calm you share with me”

“So it’s a good thing” He wondered, fixing her hair on the other side “It’s a perfect thing” He grabbed her by the neck and pulled her down for a kiss. His tongue tracing over her lips, a possessive hand on her neck “You are not done with me right?” He whispered against her lips, low and fast. She answered with a smile, moving away from him, this time for good.

She arranged a pillow under his hips, caressing his thighs on her way. She repeated the process of lubing him up and her strap. There was always a hint of a smile whenever she looked at him, already relaxed and less worried about being exposed to her like this “Ready?” She asked him, kissing his right knee. He only nodded, taking a deep breath as she rubbed the tip of her dildo over his ass. She pushed inside slowly, noticing how easier it was to get in. Kyung Soo released a long moan, lifting his head from the bed, looking down at them.

This position was definitely better. Watching his expressions, seeing his chest move in compass with his heavy breathing. She moved her hips slowly, watching her strap going in and out of him, feeling extremely aroused by the scene. Doing this now, knowing that he was watching her, made her feel bolder. More sensual and definitely more resolved to give him the best night. Kyung Soo's hands wandered down his sides, locking his fingers with hers. He pulled her hands to his hips and held them to his hipbones “Go harder” He mumbled, moving his hands over his dick, grunting as she obeyed, pounding him harder. There was a short moment, just a couple of seconds where she felt like looking away. As if this was too intimate for her to watch. Too beautiful and bright. As if looking at the sun. But after those two seconds were gone, she reminded herself that this was for them to enjoy, for her to watch. Just for her. And she was going to make sure that she was the only one having him like this. The only one that he could come to when needing this kind of pleasure.

A pleasure that she knew she was going to need again someday. Because the power she felt, the constant rush of pleasure between her legs, the drops of sweat falling down her back, and their sounds were unique and addictive. It was driving her crazy, and she could tell Kyung Soo was on the edge too. She knew him good enough now, she knew every single one of his gestures. Kyung Soo bit down his lower lip, grabbing her hands and tightening his legs around her. She grinned in triumph before he said anything “I'm going to cum” He grunted, bucking his hips restlessly. Her dirty mind worked quickly. She stopped moving her hips and made him look at her “Where do you want to come?” He kept silent, his ears reddening adorably “Please say it” She pleaded, rubbing the back of his hands soothingly. He groaned, and then pulled himself up, letting go of her hands to grab her face. He pressed his forehead to hers, their mouth so close that when he finally answered her question, his lips were brushing hers “I want to come inside you”

“Fuck” She grunted against his lips, pulling out of him and getting on her back. Because she wanted the same. She began pulling the strap loose to take it off, but Kyung Soo stopped her “No, leave it there” She felt her eyes water. Too good to be true.

Kyung Soo helped her arrange herself on the bed and then tried to reach for a condom. But without second thoughts, she grabbed his wrist “Don’t… I want it all inside me” He whispered her name in shock and asked her twice if she was sure “I am, do you want it too?”

“Yes, fuck, I want it too” She pulled him closer with her legs, and bucked her hips against him, desperate. He licked his lips in the most menacing yet sensual way. With a half-smile, Kyung Soo grabbed her by the strap pulling her closer. He caressed her pussy, up and down, slowly, covering his fingers with her cum “You are so wet, so hot, I can see you enjoyed fucking me”

“Kyung Soo, you can’t even imagine how amazing it was” He chuckled, grabbing his cock, teasing her entrance “If it felt half as amazing as it is to fuck you, then it was worth it”

“Did you enjoy it?” He chuckled again and began pushing inside her “Why don’t you feel how much I enjoyed it” He tried to do it slowly, but she felt how he began losing control, shoving his dick inside her in one rough push. She moaned loudly, arching her back, grabbing her breasts to enhance every sensation. Kyung Soo cursed again, bucking his hips slowly, his eyes tightly closed as he buried himself deep inside her. She sighed, feeling some sort of relief, surprised by how nice it felt to be stretched by him, skin to skin. She opened her eyes, looking over at him. He had his eyes closed, his long lashes fluttering, his nostrils flaring as he grunted long and low. He called her name a couple of times, a sharp inhale brimming with longing. He began moving his hips slowly, their moans harmonizing. She watched him struggle to keep his eyes open when she couldn’t close hers. Not wanting to miss any of his reactions, keeping all this in her memory. But her memory wasn’t enough. She wanted the feeling of his skin burned in hers, and the taste of his mouth in her tongue. She reached for him, stretching her arms, but only brushing his shoulders with the tip of her fingers. She called his name, a whisper that was barely audible between his grunts and her moans. She tried calling him louder, and he finally opened his eyes, an urgent look in his eyes. She moved her fingers, stretching her arms farther away trying to reach for him. Something close to a growl sounded in Kyung Soo’s chest, and he did what she was begging for. He dropped on top of her, taking her breath away. Their mouths, all thrashing lips and probing tongues, ravenous animals. His fingers rivaled to reach her ribcage and grab and squeeze her waist. He let go of her after giving a long deep suck to her lower lip and kissed his way down to her chest. Kyung Soo groaned, squeezing her breasts together, and sucking a nipple between his lips “Don’t stop, please don’t stop” Her fingers weaved through his thick, dark hair, holding him prisoner against her chest. His rhythm remained slow. He panted and groaned on every stroke. Her release was pooling, so close, but not there yet. The edging was maddening and addictive. With one of his thrust, she felt him deep inside, and he stopped moving. He stopped kissing her and just rested his forehead on her chest, breathing heavily. She rubbed his neck and caressed his shoulder blades, moving her hips to the side, just a small movement to gain some friction “You are so deep inside me baby” She purred, with a clear agenda. Kyung Soo bucked his hips, moaning and getting what she wanted. He lifted his head, locking eyes with her, his cheeks red and his eyes shining “You are so fucking hot, I’m going insane” He ended with a short laugh, giving a hard thrust. He pushed himself up, making her miss his chest against hers, but sure that it was about the get better. He lifted one of her legs up to his shoulder, opening her up even further for him. He pulled himself out of her, looking between her legs with wonder as he rubbed himself. She was shaking, breathing fast, her hands sliding down her body, wanting to touch herself, but the strap was still on her way. She tried to lose it, move it to the side, something. But Kyung Soo grabbed the dildo, and pulled her hips to him, ramming his cock deep into her. She moaned loudly, and lifted her back, propping herself up on her elbows. Kyung Soo’s pace took off at speed, each thrust more powerful than the last. He let go of her strap and grabbed her head, pulling her closer as he laid down on her, stretching her leg and moving deliciously inside her “I’m going to come” He whispered, looking her in the eye “Yes! Don’t stop and come with me, give it to me Kyung Soo, fill me up baby” Kyung Soo cursed loudly, giving short and quick thrusts, moaning against her mouth. One last curse came before he pushed hard, spilling inside her. In an attempt to shut his moans down, he sucked on her neck, making her see white, finally reaching her orgasm. She held to his shoulders as she could, moving her hips with

no control, moaning on his ear, feeling him all over her walls. His open mouth was panting against her neck, whispering her name as she was still moaning, moving her hips seeking for more, just a bit more. With a loud grunt, Kyung Soo pulled out until only the tip of his cock stayed inside her and then plunged back inside. She moaned again, as he gave her a breathy laugh. She laughed with him, her gaze fixed on his face, his pupils blown wide enough that his eyes looked black. His body undulated, rocking in and out for the last time. She could already feel him going soft inside her. The muscles of his shoulders and chest began to relax beneath his skin until he finally stopped moving, drying his forehead with the back of his hand. She felt the aftershocks of her orgasm ease down her body, making her stretch her limbs. There was a short silence after both of their moans ceased down and their breathing reached a normal rhythm “Are we going to need another bath?” He asked to break the melted ice. But she ignored him at first, focused on the way he was losing the sliders of her strap. She let him finish what he was doing, a small smile on his gorgeous lips as he pulled the piece down her legs and then tossed it somewhere in the room “A bath sounds good, but later, come here first” She laid on the bed next to him, her head on the fluffy pillows and grabbed his arm, pulling him to her. He laid next to her, passing an arm under her waist and a leg over her hips. She cuddled him closer, hugging him and pulling his face to hers, catching his lower lip with her needy mouth. As always, he responded with the same neediness. Kissing slow, nasty slow. His hand moved over her back with more gentleness, his breath and moans a soft whisper. She rubbed his left thigh, trying to ease some of the soreness he must have felt, and then over his lovely ass. Carefully, in case he was feeling any discomfort “I’m ok” He commented between kisses, reading her mind “You sure? It doesn’t hurt?”

“No, there is a ….sensation, but I wouldn’t call it pain” She sighed with relief. Kyung Soo opened his eyes, now less dark, but clearly a bit tired. He looked at her, making her feel flustered under his stare “What?” She felt her cheeks growing red and she loved that feeling "Stay, stay with me the rest of the week." He sounded so serious, she could almost feel the possessiveness in his hands that held her ribs. This was the first time he had ever said anything like this to her before. Not even as a joke. It was usually her that decided on the time they spent together, how long she would stay at his place. It was almost an order, he was taking control of their time. "I think your orgasm is talking." She tried to ease the intensity in his eyes, in his words. "No it's not, stay for the week, stay for the rest of your life with me." She giggled seeing his grin get larger, his tone softening to a light tease. She grabbed his face, squeezing his cute round cheeks before kissing him tenderly. "Let's talk about it over breakfast ok?" She asked, trying to appease his sudden need for her to stay. She wasn't trying to give herself time to think about it, she knew what she wanted. She only needed the time to make a few calls, move things around to free up her week. But there was a conversation they needed to have, needed him to hear. Because being with him for a week, at their beloved farm, will only make her wish for more. For more than a week here with him. And if she were honest, if that couldn't happen she'd just kidnap him and disappear in the forest. Away from work, away from weekdays, away from only weekends.

After all, maybe she was the Hulder he claimed her to be.

The End

[hockeyboysiguess]

impatient | m. tkachuk

a/n: a little bit of pining, a lot a bit of other things. this was super fun to write even if it killed me a little to do. 

warnings: smut, swearing, alcohol, and more smut

(this is a new and optional (no pressure but I think it will add to your experience reading my fics) thing I’m starting where all of my fics now come with a recommended wine pairing to drink while you read. full disclosure, I know absolutely nothing about wine and don’t intend to learn a damn thing about it while doing this. i order by the color and price per glass. these recommendations are based off how I feel and nothing else)

wine pairing recommendation: pink moscato, because we’re all basic bitches for matty tkachuk and pink moscato is the basic bitch wine. you know you like it. don’t lie.

word count: 5.3K

“Fuck, Matty,” you breathed out between moans as your fingers threaded deeper into the mess of curls between your thighs. 

“Oh, like that?”

His hot breath fanned out across your hot, sensitive core and you groaned at the sensation. Matthew leaned in closer to you, his broad shoulders pushing your legs further apart. He still stopped short of putting his mouth on you. 

“Matthew, please,” you whined, your body stiffening as you tried to grind your hips down to get more contact. 

“Patience,” he kissed the inside of your thigh, a few inches from exactly where you wanted his mouth, “is a virtue, honey.” 

“I fucking hate you,” you complained, but it came out empty. 

“Mm, that’s hot,” was all he said before his tongue finally touched your clit and you couldn’t help but let out an embarrassingly loud moan.

Your body decided that moment you finally felt the tension start to unfold was the perfect moment to wake you up from a dream you haven’t asked for, but decided to enjoy anyway.

“Oh, fuck me,” you groaned as you pulled the covers up over your face. “He’s everywhere.”

You stumbled slowly out of bed to the bathroom. Your inability to be patient meant you washed your face with water that was verging on ice cold, which luckily today came in handy and helped you cool you off from your dream. Matthew had found his way into a lot of your thoughts when you were by yourself. He was becoming absolutely unavoidable.

“Good morning!” your long-time roommate and self-identified best friend Kayla sang as you entered the kitchen.

You have her your customary grunt in reply. One of the biggest issues in your friendship with Kayla was that she was a literal ray of sunshine presenting as a human being. She was a blindingly bright, cheery, peppy morning person who wore her heart on her sleeve and believed that everything would be better with a sprinkle of sugar and a little more love. You couldn’t understand how a person older than eight could possibly have the personality Kayla did, but she’d made it this far into life like this, so this was how she was.

“I made you a smoothie bowl. It’s in the fridge next to your coffee that’s chilling so it can be iced coffee,” Kayla informed you, sounding more like she was meant to sing to birds so they would assist her in baking a cake than that she made you, a woman arguably resembling a river troll right now more than a person, a smoothie bowl and coffee.

You grabbed the bowl eagerly, needed something to try to get your mind from replying the self-created imagine of Matty’s shoulders and curly head between your thighs. You sighed as you took your seat at the breakfast bar next to Kayla. You dug in instantly. It was one of Kayla’s better ones.

“Is good, K,” you mumbled around the berries in your mouth.

“Thank ya,” she replied with a bright smile.

“K,” you wiped the corners of your mouth before you turned to her, “can I tell you something if you promise not to tell anyone else?”

“Of course!”

Kayla was lying and you knew it. Loose lips might sink ships, but your friendship was too strong to sink despite Kayla’s knack for spilling all the beans she knew as soon as she was pushed in the slightest of ways. But, you needed to get this off your chest.

“I had a sex dream about Matthew Tkachuk,” you said bluntly.

Kayla’s spoon paused on its journey to her mouth before it dropped back into the bowl aggressively. Little purple droplets of smoothie sprayed across counter due to her sudden movement. Her mouth dropped open as she processed what you said.

“It was like, almost a sex dream, I guess,” you sighed. “He was about to eat me out and his shoulders, god the shoulders and the curls, and it was just, it was so hot and I have no idea what this means.”

“If I start singing that nursery rhyme about you two sitting in a tree kissing are you going to throw your coffee at me?” Kayla was already wincing back in her seat with her hands protectively in front of her face before she finished her sentence. “This cream sweatshirt doesn’t deserve it even if I do for saying that.” 

You rolled your eyes at her and turned your attention back to your quickly thinning breakfast. 

“Do you maybe like him, like him?” she asked hesitantly. 

“He’s super annoying, Kayla,” you reminded her, “and I doubt he’s even into me in the slightly.” 

“He’s totally into you and I know you’re into him. Annoying and a big ego is your type. He’s annoying to you because he’s constantly pulling your metaphorical pig tails.” 

You rolled your eyes again, wondering if maybe they were going to get stuck up there that your mom had always threatened when you were little, before replying with, “This isn’t elementary school, K. Even if I did have a little crush, he’s not that type of guy and I’m not his type. ”

She shrugged and put her hands up, telling you that her opinion was her opinion and you could like take it or leave it. 

“I just told you what I think, that’s all,” she said. “I also think we need to dress you up extra hot for the bar tonight and you better shave, just in case, you know.”

-------

As the first shot of tequila burned down your throat later that night, you were starting to regret telling Kayla. She’d already had three drinks and around four was when the secrets started spilling out and Matthew was bound to show up any minute. The team had lost tonight, but they were still coming out to celebrate someone’s birthday. 

“That shirt makes your boobs look amazing!” The last word was sung, entirely unsurprising with your best friend. “Thank god you let me do your makeup tonight too. He’s not going to be able to take his eyes off you.” 

“K,” you sighed as you sat the empty shot glass down on the bar, “he’s not exactly a buy-you-roses, take-you-home-to-his-momma, remember-your-anniversary, kind of guy. Pretty sure, if I wanted to, this would be a one and done sort of thing.” 

Kayla shook her head after taking another shot that you couldn’t identify the origin of since you didn’t have another. Oh great, four deep. 

“I’m telling you, babe. He’s into you. Like, he’s actually into you,” Kayla told you.

“Who’s into you?” 

As if on cue, with an actual tug of your ponytail, Matthew was by your side with his classic, every present cocky smile and mop of curly hair, grabbing your attention even though you didn’t want to give it to him. 

“No one,” you told him. “You’re just in time to pay for my next drink though.” 

“You’re the worst person I know,” Matthew told you with a sigh. “You just talk to me for my money, don’t you?” 

“Well, it certainly couldn’t be because of your personality,” you chirped back.

His credit card still hit the bar a few seconds later though, a wide smile on his face. He slid tight up next you, one of his hands gently resting on your back as he threw some cash on the bar along with his card to catch a bartender’s attention. His hand pressed against your back was warm and strong and you wanted to lean into it, into him. You resisted, your body stiffening as you resisted the urge to collapse into him. 

“Oh, sorry,” Matthew mumbled as he took his hand away.

“Oh, you’re good! You can keep it there if you want.” 

You’d said it a little too quickly and with a little too much pep for you, but luckily the volume of the bar covered it. Matthew just nodded and let his hand gently rest on your back again, his fingers drumming against you, as he ordered his and apparently your next drink. 

“Don’t I get to order myself?” you asked him as you tilted your head back to allow for eye contact. 

“When you’re paying,” Matthew chuckled before giving your ponytail another quick tug. “So, how’s work? Pretty sure you know how mine went today, so distract me with yours, please.” 

You just started to make small talk about your work and his when your drinks arrived. Matthew was already being pulled away from you the second his beer touched his hand. 

“Find me in a few!” he shouted over the noise as he was led off to the dance floor. 

You definitely didn’t like you if he left that quickly, but you tried to focus on your drink instead of him. You couldn’t figure out what he’d ordered you by the taste. It was strong, but still tasted good, which was about all that actually mattered. You shrugged it off and headed over to mingle among the team and your other friends, mystery drink in hand and thoughts of Matthew in your head. 

By the time your ass was back on your barstool, you weren’t sure how much time had passed, but you’d had three of Matthew’s mystery drinks and you were feeling them. Still, even at your worst, you weren’t Kayla who had already been yelled three separate times by security for climbing on a chair, a table, and the bar. She could not hold her alcohol even if you paid her a million dollars to do it. 

“Jesus, I’m amazed they haven’t kicked her out yet. I see we’re being boring over here though instead of fun like Kayla.”

Matthew. Of course he’d find you the second you decided to take a little breather. You rolled your eyes at him and he laughed lightly. You knew he was teasing. He was always teasing you, always chirping you. You took the last sip of your drink and began the internal debate on if you could handle one more or not.

“Look, Chucky Cheese, not all girl are table dancing types,” you sighed, settling on the idea that one more would probably more likely than not be one too many. 

Matthew slid his stool closer to you as he waved the nearest bartender down to close out his tab, apparently deciding he was also done for the night along with you.  The scent of his cologne was engulfing you in a way that made the rest of the world around you slowly start to disappear. 

“I’m not into table dancing types,” he informed you as he intercepted your tab before you could glance at how much he was shelling out for you tonight. “More into the roommates of the table dancing types. Especially,” he slid the clipboard with the bill to the opposite edge of the bar as his eyes turned back to lock with yours, “when I have it on good authority that table dancing girl’s roommate is into me.” 

If you’d still been drinking, you would’ve choked on it with that statement. 

“What?” was all you managed to get out in response.

Matthew chuckled a little and nodded softly, as if he’d been expecting that very response. He pivoted on his stool to face you. Slowly and steadily, Matthew leaned in closer to you. Even sitting, he towered over you and it made your breath hitch in your throat. Him leaning into you like this enveloped you in the feeling of him and the smell of his cologne. His lips came to rest just next to the shell of your ear, accidentally grazing it for a moment. If you weren’t already sitting, your knees would’ve buckled. 

“Kayla is a little too drunk to keep your dreams a secret. She said something about how my shoulders would look between your thighs? Could’ve heard that wrong though.” Matthew said softly to you. “It’s okay. I’m happy to make your dreams come true tonight.” 

He paused for a second and you weren’t sure if you had breathed the entire time he’d spoke. He took a deep breath before continuing. 

“That is, if you’re interested.” 

Loose lips sink ships, but maybe, just maybe, Kayla’s loose lips were about to make something float for the first time in her life. 

“Don’t worry so much,” he whispered against your ear as he sensed your nerves, his lips ghosting across your sensitive skin as he spoke, “I want you so fucking bad right now.”

He pulled back, settling onto his stool again with practiced ease, and your heart started racing in your chest. You could barely hear the crowd over your heart beating in your ears. You had to think of something to say and you didn’t have a lot of time to do. Your brain was racing, not landing on any thought in particular long enough for it to take hold. Matthew knew he had you exactly where he wanted and his confidence was turning you on in a way that you hated that you loved. He leaned in closer to you, his smirk still strong as he came closer to you, his mouth inches from yours. You wanted to throw him off guard, wipe that cocky smirk right off his face, so you said the first thing that came to mind. 

“You’ve got to buy me dinner first, Tkachuk.”

You didn’t know what part of your brain found those words. You didn’t know why they’d come out of your mouth. You didn’t even know how truly interested you were. The last one was a lie to yourself, but those words were a 50/50 gamble. Maybe he wanted to fuck you and take you to dinner. Maybe he just wanted one night to get over a tough division loss tonight. You had no evidence other than Kayla’s pigtail pulling theory to support the idea that maybe he might not just be looking for a one night stand and Kayla was so often wrong.

“Hmm, any chance I can cash in on dessert tonight and take you to dinner tomorrow?” The smirk was replaced with a soft smile, a smile that made you want to fall right into his broad chest and never leave. “Because I’m not exactly super patient here and I know you’re going to look absolutely killer in a tight dress at the stupidly expensive restaurant I’m going to take you to tomorrow night, but you’d also look so fucking good in my bed right now.”

"Is that so?” you asked him, stealing his smirk from earlier. “How nice is this restaurant?”

“Not as nice as I’m going to make you feel in a few minutes if you let me.” 

You pressed your mouth against his as your way of answering. Matthew’s hands were on your waist, pulling you off your stool and into him as he took over, his mouth working aggressively against yours. Your hands clasped together behind his neck, securing you against him. Matthew was the one to pull back, surprising you. He released one hand from your waist to pull his phone out of his pocket and open up Uber on his phone. 

“Unless that didn’t mean what I think it meant, I’m taking you home, woman,” Matthew said as he ordered the car.

“What ever do you think it could mean?” you countered in the lightest, brightest sarcastic voice you could find. 

“Don’t tease me like that,” Matthew smirked, his face inches from yours now that his phone was secured in his pocket again. His forehead dipped down to press against yours. “You want this, right?”

“I’m just in this for the idea that the stupidly expensive restaurant has lobster,” you teased him again.

He shook his head softly and let out a soft breath before kissing you again in a way that told you that you were about to be in for a hell of a night. The Uber to his place was a blur for you due to alcohol and anxiety. You wanted Matthew. You knew for certain he wanted you too. That didn’t mean doubt and insecurities weren’t trying to worm your way in and ruin this for you. Matthew’s arm around your shoulders pulled you back to the present. He was pressing you tight against him in the elevator ride up to his apartment. 

“Stop with the mind racing thing you do. I can see the hamsters running up there,” Matthew laughed, his head falling back against the elevator to rest as he looked at you. “You’re not going to have to dream about this anymore. You get the real thing and I’m buying you dinner. You’ve come out on top here, even though you’re not actually going to be on top tonight.”

“Keep chirping me and see if I won’t turn around right now,” you replied as the elevator doors opened. 

“Your prerogative,” Matthew shrugged and he pulled his keys out with his free hand, “but I think taking your right hand over me is a poor choice for you.”

“Aw, you think I don’t own a vibrator.” Matthew’s hand stumbled as he tried to put the key into the lock, probably something to do with what you’d just said.  “Cute of you.” 

“Own anything else I might want to know about?” he asked you curiously as he pushed open his door after successfully wrangling his key. 

“All in due time, Tkachuk,” you said with a pat of his broad chest as you breezed past him into his apartment. 

Matthew breathed out a long sigh. It turned slowly into a chuckle towards the end as he shut the door, his mind jumping forward to when you’d hopefully let him see whatever you were alluding to that was in the back of your top drawer. You didn’t make it far into Matthew’s apartment before his large hands grabbed your hips and spun you to face him, his mouth crushing against yours moments later. Your hands grabbed the bottom of his t-shirt and started to pull it up. 

“Whoa, whoa, easy there, tiger,” Matthew laughed against your mouth while letting his hands take over and pull his shirt up. “We just got here.” 

“If you’re in a slow and steady mood, I’d rather go home to my vibrator.” 

Matthew pulled back from your mouth, still laughing as he tossed his shirt to the floor. He didn’t answer you, instead choosing to attach his mouth to your neck, nipping at the thin skin there as your hands found purchase on his bare chest. His teeth grazed across the skin over your collarbone as he worked his way down and your nails slid down his chest, leaving red lines down his pale skin. 

“Jesus, fuck,” Matthew groaned out as your actions, his voice only deepening due to the sensation. 

His hands on your hips gripped hard, the tips of his fingers pressing into the exposed skin where your shirt had rode up. Matthew slowly guided you backwards until you felt the back of your knees hit the edge of a couch cushion. Matthew left a searing kiss on your lips before he gave you a shove so you fell back on the couch. 

“Clothes, off,” Matthew told you as he unbuckled his belt. 

“You think-”

“I am in charge. Don’t even,” he laughed softly as he yanked his belt from the belt loops in his jeans and dropped it to the floor. “You’re still very dressed by the way.”

You huffed and stuck your tongue out at him, only making him laugh harder, but you listened to him nonetheless, tossing your clothes to the floor along with his. Matthew stopped with just his boxers left, and you followed his lead. His light eyes were darker as he took in the sight of you in just your bra and panties. Kayla had insisted you wear the one matching set you owned tonight and you made a mental note to thank her tomorrow. Matthew’s tongue darted out to lick across his bottom lip. 

“Man, that’s a good look for you.” Matthew paused as he climbed over you, holding up his large frame over yours on the couch on his hands pressed into the cushions next to your head. He lowered his mouth to the swell of your breast, biting gently into the soft skin there. He mumbled against your skin, “Don’t wear clothes anymore.”

“I think I need to, to go to work,” you muttered, your mind far more occupied with what Matthew’s mouth was doing at the moment than speaking. 

His hands were coasting up and down your skin, over your thighs, across your stomach. He was touching every part of you and your body was coming alive under his touch. You opened your mouth to add something, but Matthew had used that same moment as his opportunity to pull one of the lace cups of your bra aside and quickly take your now exposed nipple into his mouth. Your open mouth turned into a loud moan as his tongue rolled across the sensitive nub smoothly. You were already almost seeing stars when he gingerly took it between his teeth for a moment. 

The bra which had previously been something he appreciated, was now in his way, so it ended up on the floor with the rest of your clothes. Matthew groaned at the site of you without it. He’d decided that naked was your best look, before he’d even gotten you completely naked. You could feel his eyes drinking you in and you would have felt self conscious if not for the fact that Matthew shifted over you, pressing his hardness against your thigh in a desperate attempt for friction. 

“Why didn’t we,” Matthew took your other nipple into his mouth mid sentence, letting one of his hands finally stop moving across your skin, to pinch your other nipple between his fingers. He repeated his actions from the other side, tongue rolling your nipple softly before taking it between his teeth. His fingers pinched the other roughly as he did this, making your whine underneath him. He finally finished after releasing your nipple with a soft pop, “do this sooner?” 

“I don’t know, but I really need you to touch me,” you whined, your hands flying to his shoulders to push him down.

He didn’t budge. After all, he was a professional athlete with the strength and weight to match the job title. He relented though without much effort on your part, after throwing you a teasing grin, and pulled your panties down your legs with two fingers hooked into each side. He sank onto the couch between your thighs. You gasped as you could feel his hot breath on your wet slit. Matthew looked at you, taking in everything that was in front of him. 

“You,” he pressed a kiss to the left side of your inner thigh, “are,” he kissed the opposite side, “so,” he kissed higher up on the left side, closer to where you wanted him, “fucking,” he kissed the opposite side at the same distance from your slit. His mouth moved closer, hovering an inch above your core and he added, “Sexy,” before pressing his tongue between your folds and licking in one firm line up to your clit. 

Your eyes rolled back in your head at the contact and your hips bucked up toward his mouth to try and get more contact. One of Matthew’s hands came down low on your stomach and pushed you flat back onto the couch. 

“Easy, easy,” he soft softly, giving your clit a gentle, chaste kiss. “I’ve got you.” 

You let out a deep breath as you tried to get your body back under your control. Your control held until Matthew’s tongue started to circle your clit for the first time. He was pulling moans from your throat that you didn’t know you made as he worked your clit slowly and steadily. Matthew was brash and bold and fast on the ice, but he was steady here, taking his time. You were his guide as he let the noises he was causing you to make guide him. 

You took notice when he flatted his tongue against your clit and looked up at you, his blue eyes locking with yours for a moment. He slowly and purposefully applied more pressure on your clit before shaking his head back and forth, dragging his tongue across your clit firmly. Your eyes slammed shut and your hands flexed into his curls at the sensation. 

“Matthew, fuck,” you managed to break out, your voice cracking between the words. “Holy fuck.” 

“Easy, baby. Easy,” Matthew reminded you softly before returning to you. 

He ran his tongue down your slit again, dipping it ever so slightly into you, making you squirm and whine, before returning his attention to your clit. He started moving his tongue faster, sliding left to right against the sensitive bundle of nerves as he could hear the noises you were matching shift and build. You were becoming more restless under him as your orgasm starting building, desperate to feel that release. Matthew was impatient to get you into his bed, or onto his couch, earlier but he was so very patient now, milking you slowly and gently, making sure to savor every taste of you he was getting, making sure you were enjoying yourself. 

“Matthew, more, please,” you begging softly, tugged his curls to try to push him more into your core. 

He listened, suddenly taking his clit into your mouth and sucking softly on it. You were seeing stars by the time he released it, his tongue moving in quick circles over it. You were so distracted that you didn’t noticed his hand move from your stomach until you felt two of his fingers slide into you. The new feeling pulled you over the edge almost instantly. Matthew’s fingers pumped in and out of you as his tongue continued his movement on your clit to bring you through your orgasm.

“Oh, my, god,” you breathed out, your chest heaving, as Matthew slowly pulled back from you. 

“I don’t think god had anything to do with that actually,” he joked in reply, throwing you a wink that made you remember exactly the kind of guy he really was.

You were about to throw that back in his face, until he slid the two fingers that had been in you into his mouth, sucking them clean in front of you. Your mouth was slack as you watched him, drinking in the sight in front of you. 

“Dessert was fucking delicious by the way,” he told you after releasing his now clean fingers. 

He pushed up off the couch and disappeared down the hallway. You heard a drawer open in what you assumed was his bedroom and shut quickly after. You were still catching your breath by the time he was back, foil packet in hand. 

“Yes?” he asked, lifting the condom up slightly to you as his way of checking with you. 

“Please,” you simply replied. 

Your dream hadn’t even gone as what he’d just finished, but you can’t say you hadn’t imagined this before. You desperately wanted to know what it felt like to have him inside you. Matthew nodded in response before dropping his boxers to the floor, quickly ripping open the foil packet and rolling the condom down his hard shaft. He sighed happily as he looked you over, stroking himself a few times. 

“Hands and knees,” he told you as he crossed the room to you. 

You obliged, flipping over onto your knees, bracing your arms on the back of the couch for more leverage. You felt Matthew sink onto the couch behind you before one of his large hands gripped your ass roughly, squeezing it. He gave the now reddened skin a soft tap before his hand slid to your hip to steady himself as he lined up with you. You both moaned as he slowly slid into it, your wetness allowing for him to enter you in one smooth motion until his hips were pressed against your ass. 

“Jesus, shit,” Matthew mumbled before taking a deep breath. “You feel so fucking good. Christ, woman.” 

“You going to lose it or are you actually going to be able to-”

You didn’t get to finish that sentence as Matthew pulled almost all of the way out before roughly slamming his hips forward until they met your ass again. You gasped at the sudden and now unrelenting movement as Matthew moved at a rough, fast pace, thrusting in and out of you quickly. You gripped the back of the couch and began to push off from the couch slightly, meeting his thrusts with small movements of your own, making him curse between his teeth at how deep he was inside of you each time.  

One of Matthew’s hands was digging into the skin of your hip, steadying him to you and his other was on your shoulder, fingers slowly sliding over from the back of your shoulder to the front, inching ever so slightly toward your neck. You knew what he wanted, but wouldn’t ask for this time around, but you could offer it. You steadied yourself with one forearm on the back of the couch before sliding your free hand up to grab his. His rhythm flattered a little until he realized what you were doing, and then he almost fell apart far too early. You gently guided his fingers until they were wrapped around your throat. 

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he spat out between thrusts.

You nodded and he slowly and steadily applied pressure to your throat, the side of his hand from his index finger to his thumb pressing in just the right spot to restrict your breathing, but not cut it off dangerously. You started moaning louder with the added sensation and Matthew’s thrusts were becoming sloppy. You knew he wanted to last longer, but he got caught off guard by your assertiveness in the best way possible and wasn’t going to be able to hold out much longer.

“Fuck, fuck,” Matthew mumbled before his breathing hitched in his throat. 

He groaned, his hand squeezing down hard on your throat, as his thrusts started to slow as he came down from his high. He collapsed down onto your back when he was finished, releasing your throat so he could wrap his arms around your stomach and give you a quick squeeze. Matthew pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder before slowly pulling out of you. You sighed as you flipped over so you were sitting up on the couch, giving your knees a break. 

Matthew climbed off the couch and headed back down the hallway, returning a few moments later with a damp washcloth for you. You were surprised by the gestured, but grateful for it nonetheless. 

“I meant it,” Matthew told you as he dropped down on the couch next to you, a water bottle in hand.

You gave him a curious look, trying to figure out what he was referring to in that moment. He took a swig from the bottle before answering.

“Taking you out tomorrow,” he continued when he saw your confusion. He passed you the bottle, before continuing, “I meant it.”

"I didn’t think you weren’t,” you replied with a shrug before popping open the bottle to take a few swigs, grateful for the cool water since you’d both managed to work up a sweat during that.

“Good,” he nodded, curls bouncing with his movement. 

The moment was sweet, too sweet for how the rest of the evening had gone. The teasing tone that covered not only the evening, but your friendship with Matthew needed to return. Matthew was also too sure of himself to miss the opportunity at his feet. 

“So, did I live up the dream?” he asked you, a cocky grin on his face that matched his tone. “Actually, I know I was better. But how much better was I?” 

[daydream-believin]

The Never-Ending Roadtrip (Cavern Creeps)

SUMMARY: Reader joins Douxie in the quest for Nari’s safety. He’ll need company won’t he?  PART 8) Douxie is not having a good time, Nari is not having a good time, no one is having a good time.          start -> (part 1)  next -> (part 9) WARNINGS: swearing, lots of panic and anxiety, anxiety attack WORD COUNT: 2420 A/N: it’s becoming increasingly clear that i do not have any control over where the plot goes in this fic. i never have and i never will. seriously the outline prompt for this one was ‘some downtime in trollmarket’ idk what happened

Douxie opened his eyes. He had been having a dream in which he was lost in a series of caves. No matter how many walls he marked to keep track, he couldn’t remember which way he came from. The marks kept disappearing. He’d etch them with all his strength, and they would fade. The tunnels were endless. He was sure he was too far underground now. The oxygen was getting thin. He had to find the way back up. He had to. The others were waiting for him. His chest got tighter, his breaths shallower. Why was this so hard?

Turns out both Y/n and Archie were sleeping on his chest. No wonder dream-him couldn’t breathe. He wouldn’t move them. The gentle snores filled his ears. It was still late, or more, early. Doux wouldn’t be able to breathe well enough to go back to sleep without another strange dream, so he didn’t try. That was okay. He got a solid three hours in, and that was better than most nights. He felt relaxed in the embrace of his small family. Douxie listened to their breathing. It was cozy, snuggled with the two people who mean the most to him, feeling their heartbeats against his own chest. This is how it would always be, just the three of them. Three magic signatures. No one else in the room. Wait.

Douxie tried his best to keep from waking Y/n and Archie when he bolted upright. He failed. Y/n groggily took in her husband as his panicked gaze shot around the room. She didn’t know why he was panicked but it made her panicked. Y/n also looked around the room to help despite not knowing what she was looking for. Douxie gently nudged her off and moved Archie so he could stand up. Y/n reached her hand up to him, silently asking to be pulled up and Douxie obliged. As she stood to her feet, Y/n got another look around, taking in the whole of the room. Now slightly more awake, the gears turned and she realized what was wrong with the scene. Nari.

Bleeding balroths, they lost the veggie lady. The one person they were supposed to keep close, protect form the Order, or the fucking world will end, and they lost her. Granted, they were asleep when it happened, but still. They lost her. Douxie and Y/n burst out of the door with Archie in tow. Douxie had hoped Nari would have just been in the living room but nope he couldn’t be that lucky. Figures. He could feel his racing heart in his throat as the impact of what was happening settled in his chest.

Douxie quick as lightning scanned all of Trollmarket that his eyes could see. Nari was nowhere to be found. He could barely hear Y/n and Archie start calling out the forest spirit’s name above the incredibly loud screaming inside his head. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA. Merlin was going to kill him. The Arcane order wasn’t even going to get the chance to end the world before Merlin’s ghost strangled him right here and now.

They were running through the streets of the village, asking every troll they came across if they’d seen her. No luck. Archie couldn’t find her as he flew over either. Douxie kept checking shops over and over, despite Y/n telling him they’d been in every building already and he was looking like a madman. He was a madman. Dictatious was not any help. Beyond seeing the veggie lady leave the house, and not caring enough to alert Doux, he had no idea where she might be. At least now they knew she’d only been out for a little over half an hour. She couldn’t have left the settlement, could she? Could she? Douxie felt ice water flow into his veins.

A quick check of inventory and sure enough, no horngazzle. Oh, fuzzbuckets. FUZZBUCKETS! Y/n went off to acquire another horngazzle from Bagdwella, sprinting across the town, and leaving Douxie alone with his thoughts. The world was gonna end soon, and it would be all his fault. He knew he shouldn’t have trusted the forest child. He had a feeling she was going to have been his downfall, he just hadn’t expected it so soon, or like this.

It’s over. The Arcane Order will win. The universe will be destroyed. He will have failed the one thing he was supposed to be doing. He had one job. Merlin’s last dying wish. And he had botched it. His short reign as a master wizard would be incapsulated by failure. This was his fault. He started taking risks, he stopped listening to Merlin, he stopped studying, he started making his own path, and now he was gonna take everyone else down with him.

Douxie saw Y/n blast out of the shop and head towards the grand entrance gate. His chest felt tight, and he couldn’t breathe again, even though he didn’t have both a wife and a dragon weighing his ribcage down this time. He felt his own feet carrying him the direction of the gate to meet Y/n but barely registered the scenery going by in a blur. Doux barely registered Archie land on his shoulder and the dragon claws digging into his flesh as he watched Y/n drag the magic key across the cavern wall in an arch. If it had been any other time he would have enjoyed the cute little way she did it. She was like a ballerina, leaping as she made the motion. It was an effort to make the door taller so Doux could walk through it without hitting his head, and it worked. Good thing too, as he wasn’t paying enough attention to not when he absent-mindedly ran past her and out of the gate like he was on fire.

When Y/n caught up to the other two, Douxie was huffing and puffing hunched over while Archie made an effort to fan his brother with his wings. The dragon cool-off was not entirely effective. Douxie wildly tossed his head around as he visually searched the area around the river and bridge. His pupils were wide with fear. As scary as this was, it pained Y/n to see him scared like this. She knew he struggled with anxiety, and had even seen his attacks before, but this was amped up to an eleven. She didn’t like it.

As desperate as they were, with the time ticking away, Y/n decided what was best was to calm Douxie down before they did anything else. She pulled him close into her embrace, letting him rest his head on her chest. Her steady heartbeat was bringing him slightly back down to earth.

“Shhhh, I’m here.” Y/n rubbed comforting circles on his back. “Can you look up for me?” It took a moment, but Douxie managed to grant her request. His hazel eyes were still blown wide, haunted. “Good, good. Let’s take some deep breaths. Okay, can you tell me five things you can see?”

Douxie shifted, looking beyond Y/n’s back. “Uh,- river,, trash, in river,,- tree, other trees,, Archie, you.”

“Okay, four things you can feel?”

He breathing was starting to go back to its regular pace. “You,, your hands on my back,, Archie rubbing my legs- the wind.”

“Good. Three you can hear?”

Douxie straightened, his voice sounding a lot calmer, “the wind in the trees, the water in the river, Archie purring.”

This prompted Archie to purr louder in support. “You good now or do you need to smell?” Y/n chuckled.

“Yeah, I think I’m fine now.” Douxie smiled, albeit weakly. Y/n gave him another grounding hug for good measure. She looked past his shoulder as she squeezed, something catching her eye. She let go of her wizard and started off towards the trees behind him.

“Where are you going?” Y/n was a bit worried about how strained Douxie’s voice still was.

“Well,” She turned around to face him and gestured her hands as she spoke, “If I was a forest goddess, where would I be? The forest of course.” She motioned to the treeline. Yeah, she was right. That made sense. He caught up and grabbed her hand for her to guide him to wherever they were going. He needed to hold her hand. It was her left hand, he could feel the cool metal of the ring on her finger. That helped.

They desperately wandered through the trees with no luck. It’s not like they had a veggie lady tracking device. They should get a veggie lady tracking device. Perhaps disguised as a bracelet cuff. She’d like that it was similar to Douxie, so she’d actually wear it. Or maybe they’d just get one of those baby leashes. Bad little forest goddesses have to wear the baby leash of shame. Maye she wouldn’t mind it, if it was shaped like a teddy bear or something. They’d cross that bridge when they got there. Once they found her. If the Arcane Order hadn’t got to her first.

The couple passed so many trees they started to all look the same. Oak, river birch, river birch, oak, sugar maple, oak, oak, oak, river birch. Every now and then there would be a troll carving on a tree or a rock, that they could use as landmarks, but they still had no idea where they were anymore. Thankfully, it was impossible to get lost with Archie around. Speak of the devil, the black dragon appeared through the trees again, calling them over to follow him.

The cat-dragon led them along many twists and turns in the forest. Every now and then Y/n would catch glimpse of a deer trail, but no signs of humans. Douxie accidentally bumped his head on a tree branch because Y/n had pulled him along so fast he didn’t have time to duck. Okay, so Doux didn’t accidentally bump his head as much as Y/n had accidentally made him. It wasn’t that low. She had had no trouble with it herself. It wasn’t her fault he was a giant. He should think of that next time before becoming over six foot. After what seemed like a lifetime, the started approaching a small tributary of the river. A small tributary that a small forest goddess was kneeling beside.

“NARI!” Y/n couldn’t help but cry out in relief at the sight of Nari safe and sound. The loudness of Y/n’s voice startled the veggie lady, and she whipped her head around to see the others as the joined her. Nari’s expression of surprise quickly morphed into one of guilt, like a child getting caught with their hand in the cookie jar. While neither of them looked particularly angry at her, she thought Hisirdoux was a little worse for wear. She supposed she’d caused that. She was always causing trouble for others it seemed. Just in the last week she’d gotten two homes destroyed, several humans injured, and worst of all, Merlin was gone now. It was all her fault.

Nari wasn’t aware of the tears streaming down her face until Y/n was wiping them away. She had crouched down to comfort the little spirit, “Hey, hey now, it’s okay, none of us are mad. We were just really scared for a bit there. But its alright, Nari. We’re just happy you’re safe.”

The forest child tucked her face into the crook of Y/n’s shoulder. Douxie stood a distance away. Archie was perched on his shoulder once again. He shifted between his feet, feeling the soft earth and wet grass of the riverside. Doux couldn’t shake a certain feeling of uneasiness and his familiar sensed his anxious energy. He had his staff raised and all ready to go if the trees so much as shake in the wind. Nothing happened. But he was ready.

He knew it was irrational, but Douxie couldn’t help but feel like they were near. The Order. Something was off in the air. They needed to get Nari back underground fast. However, he was worried that such a thing wouldn’t stop them, and he would just be damning the trolls and their new happy settlement. He hadn’t been too sure before about the plans Y/n had for tomorrow, but now he was. They would be safer if they got to a heavily populated area. It would mask their scent. They had lingered in Trollmarket for far too long now. They would be overstaying their welcome big time if the Arcane Order showed up.

Once Nari had calmed down quite a lot and the tears had long stopped flowing, Y/n wanted to get to the bottom of the reasons for this little late-night escapade. She fixed a braid on the side of Nari’s hair as she asked, “Can you tell me why you decided to come out here.” She was careful not to word it accusatively, lest she upset the poor frightened spirit further.

“I- I needed to get out from there. It’s so cold. There’s no stars down there. The air doesn’t move.”

Y/n nodded to express her sympathy. “I understand.” She really did. Trolls were great, but the underground vibes just weren’t for everyone. It was easy to feel trapped in Trollmarket. Like the world was weighing you down. The cavern over your head going to collapse at any moment. She stood to her feet, waiting a beat before asking, “Do you think you can go back down there for a little while longer? I promise we’ll come back outside in the morning.”

Nari looked up and smiled, taking Y/n’s hand as she helped her up, “Yes. I think I’m ready to go back now. For just a little while longer.”

~ ~ ~

Once they were all safe and sound back in Trollmarket, Y/n was relived. It was early morning by then, and the sun was rising outside, but they still had enough time to get a few more hours in. She looked up at her husband. Bags under his eyes as always, she didn’t think he’d be able to fall back to sleep after all this, actually. A few more hours of cuddle time, then. They passed by the pub on their way home. That could help ease poor Doux. Y/n nudged him with her shoulder, “Wanna go get a pint or two?”

Douxie chuckled, “Nah, I’m not one for glug. It’s a tad too gamey for me.”

“How bout we make some chamomile tea once we get home then?”

“Oh, that sounds heavenly.”

[matthewtkachuk]

feel something pt 1 - jj

On the outside, you’re a kook princess with a seemingly perfect life and a perfect family. The expectations are suffocating you, to the point where the only thing you feel is numb. You’re chasing different coping mechanisms in order to feel something. Until a chance encounter with a certain blond pogue you know you’re supposed to hate gives rise to a different kind of feeling.

Warnings: angst, toxic behaviour, poor coping mechanisms, drug usage, mentions of sex, mentions of suicidal ideations (brief), Rafe being a grade a asshole, shitty parents

Pairings: JJ x reader (eventually), Rafe x reader (slight), Topper x reader (slight)

Words: 3.1k

A/N: I accidentally deleted this, ugh sorry if you see this again!! I started off wanting to write a supremely angsty one shot, turned into a supremely angsty multi-chapter fic. This is a slow burn, babyy. Here’s the set up, let me know what you think! :)

series masterlist

You stand teetering on the edge of the balcony railing, barefoot and facing the waves as they crash onto the beach. You’re not thinking about jumping. At least you’re pretty sure you won’t actually jump. Really you’re just looking for even a flicker of an emotion to stir up in your chest. Lately you haven’t felt anything more than mild annoyance at your parent’s constant bickering and pestering. You know you’re too young, but all you feel anymore is numb. You lift your left leg, balancing precariously on the right for a minute before lowering it and returning to the balcony and slipping your heels back on.

You don’t want to die, you just don’t want to live like this. Kook princess, paraded and practically pimped around by your parents, looking for you to find an advantageous marriage, have 2.5 kids and further accumulate your hoarded wealth. “Why don’t you date the Cameron boy? He’s quite good looking and your father would love it if you married his business partner’s son” and “The Thornton boy would be a good match, the family mansion is the largest” and “Jacob Kane’s father is a name partner at a successful law firm on the mainland”. Your mother’s incessant nagging about finding the perfect husband only further cements your lack of value as a human being, your usefulness tapped out at your ability to be someone’s wife.

You don’t understand the wealth accumulation thing, your trust fund probably equals the national budget of a small country already, and there’s no way anyone could blow through the entire family fortune in a single generation. At this point, it just feels like generating wealth for the sake of generating it. What good is money if it just sits in a bank account or investment portfolio, earning passive income and not being used for anything.

You recognize you’re very privileged, you’ve never once had to worry about where your next meal would come from, you have a closet full of designer handbags and red bottom shoes the value of which could feed several families on the Cut. But what’s the cost? You feel suffocated by the pressure bestowed upon you by your parents. You’re the eldest sibling, primary heiress to the Y/L/N family fortune and expected future successor of the family business. Truthfully, you couldn’t give less of a fuck about retail development or whatever it is that keeps your father so busy that he missed every single one of your piano and ballet recitals growing up. You like the idea of studying Shakespeare’s sonnets and soliloquies over learning about mergers and acquisitions and tax avoidance laws at college, but you know your father would sooner cut you off than let you pursue your own passions.

Sometimes you let yourself fantasize about leaving it all behind, running off to some college like Columbia, moving to New York and living in the city that never sleeps. With your 4.0 GPA and stellar extracurricular activities, you could probably get a pretty good scholarship. Or maybe Paris, where you would sit in a cute little café flirting with French boys and writing poetry by the Seine River. But it would be hard, and you’re too much of a coward to see if you could make it on your own without daddy’s money. Not to mention the little voice in the back of your head that sounds suspiciously like your mothers telling you that you’ll never amount to anything without their help.

Later, you’re wandering the party, both hands curled tightly around the cup you hold to your lips, eyes staring out at the crowd over the rim. Unfortunately, you catch Rafe Cameron’s eye as he’s sat around the coffee table with a freshly cut white line ready on the surface. He’s surrounded by the idiots he calls friends and more than one pretty little rich girl making eyes at him. The left corner of his mouth turns up in a smirk as he realizes you’ve sized up the company around him.

“Hey Y/L/N, want a line? First one’s on me, babe.” He calls out at you, but you just roll your eyes and keep moving forward. As desperate as you are to feel something, you’re not sure you can cross that line just yet. Partaking in the occasional joint or bong rip is one thing, but hard drugs is another. You don’t think trading in the empty feeling in your chest for an addiction is worth it. Seeing the blown out pupils of some of your peers, and the way they not-so-discreetly sniff and wipe at their noses you realize you’re likely alone in that assessment. “Your loss!” he calls out at your retreating form, and you don’t even bother to look over your shoulder. You know he’s not really interested in you beyond making you a customer and maybe a quick fuck.

You snort to yourself, wondering what your mother would think about the boy she wanted you to pursue offering you a line of coke at a party. Knowing her, she would focus on the fact that you had gained his attention and ignore the illicit substance.

Making your way through the cluster of bodies is harder than you had initially thought, everyone was on everyone. Every kook party ends up this way, a certain subset of the group coked out and the rest so drunk they can’t function, and you begin to wonder why you even bothered coming.

You’re not totally sure what you’re looking for, your best friend and Rafe’s younger sister Sarah doesn’t really associate with this crowd anymore ever since she started spending all her time with the less fortunate side of the island. Rafe had called it ‘slumming with those dirty fucking pogues’ the last time Sarah had partied with you. Maybe it isn’t right to call her your best friend anymore because not only does she not associate with this crowd, she doesn’t really associate with you either.

You know she’s hanging with Kie again, there are a lot of watchful eyes on the island and even more flapping lips. It’s kind of ironic, Sarah was the one who convinced you to drop Kie, and you had let her. Now the two of them were spending all their time together on some dilapidated boat named after the inhabitants of the Cut and you were alone at some lame party with a heavy weight on your chest and under your eyes.

Sighing deeply, you down the rest of the contents of your cup and grab a refill before turning your attention back to the crowd of people in the middle of the living room. As your brain starts to fog further with the familiar feeling four vodka crans give you, you let Topper put his hands on your hips and pull your bodies close together, your back to his front. A voice in the back of your mind wonders if you’re supposed to feel guilt over Sarah’s ex’s hands all over your body, but you don’t feel anything and Sarah clearly doesn’t give a fuck about you either.

The next morning you wake up with Topper’s hands around your bare waist. There’s a pain radiating against your skull and you have cotton mouth, but you quietly gather your clothes and sneak out of the room before the sleeping blonde can wake up and give you that regretful look he gets in his eyes every time you hook up. You know he still loves Sarah, in his own fucked up way and though you don’t regret where you woke up, you know you’ll just be annoyed if you have to deal with his issues this early in the morning with this bad of a hangover.

You’ve almost successfully left the large mansion, quietly walking through the living room to the front door when a voice remarks dryly, “Really, y/n? I thought you were better than my sister’s leftovers.”

Inhaling through your nose and out your mouth sharply, you spin on your heel to face Rafe with a blank expression on your face. He sits at the kitchen island, bare-chested with his hat on backwards, casually eating a bowl of cereal. The thought of why exactly Rafe is sitting half naked in Topper’s kitchen, eating Topper’s cereal briefly flashes through your mind but you decide you don’t care. “What do you care Rafe?” you ask, only half interested in his response. There’s a moment of silence, and you pick at your fingernails rather than meet his gaze.

“I’m just saying, I thought you were better than that,” he shrugs, bringing another spoonful to his mouth.

You roll your eyes, already tired of the conversation, “And who, pray tell, is better for me?”

“Me of course,” he smirks at you, and you huff out an annoyed laugh and raise an eyebrow silently asking him to explain. “Come on princess, I know your parents want you to marry up. ‘m your best option on this island”.

Mildly annoyed, you roll your eyes and turn back towards the front door, eager to leave this conversation behind. “C’mon baby, we both know how this thing ends, with you on my arm as the perfect trophy wife.”

There was a time those words might have brought butterflies in your stomach. Growing up best friends with Sarah meant you also grew up with Rafe, and you used to have the biggest crush on him. Forbidden by Sarah after a late night game of truth or dare, you didn’t use to mind when your mother would spout off about Rafe being the perfect boy for you. He used to look out for you like he did for Sarah. But that was a long time ago, and he no longer cared about either of you anymore and you had to admit you couldn’t remember why you had ever thought him anything but repulsive. That was before the drugs and the untethered rage that always rests just under the surface of his skin, ready to be unleashed at the smallest slight. You might have married the little boy with the gap toothed smile who once punched Jacob Kane when you were in the second grade and he wouldn’t stop bothering you, but this Rafe wasn’t good for anything beyond a quick meeting in the dark.

If you had been able to feel anything, you might have snapped back at him, but you had no energy and honestly all you wanted was to shower in your own shower and collapse in your own bed, so you ignored his comment and slipped out the door.

It was a quick walk back to your house, and you snuck in quietly through the front door hoping no one was home and your dreams of slumbering until the early afternoon could be realized. Unfortunately, your mother sat on the cream colored chaise in the sitting room, clearly anticipating your arrival. Her eyes quickly scanned your appearance, your manolos held by the straps in your right hand, your sex hair and décolletage you were sure was covered in bites and bruises caused by overeager lips, before sighing.

“Y/n, darling, you have to stop this silly behaviour and settle down. Boys aren’t going to want to lock you down if they’ve already had you.” She criticizes, effectively slut-shaming you. You roll your eyes at that, briefly wondering if the old wives tale was true and you’d end up with your eyes stuck like that. You decide you don’t mind, it would save you some time as your base reaction to most interactions is to roll them.

“I had a rough night mom, I’d like to go back to bed,” you tell her as you try to slip past her. A cold hand circles your wrist, stiletto tipped manicure digging slightly into the skin stopping you from moving any further.

“I’m serious, y/n, you’re better than this.” She throws the same words Rafe had at you. Exasperated and exhausted you rip your wrist from her grasp and head to the stairs. “We’re not done talking about this!” she shouts but you ignore her and continue towards your nice shower and bed.

Rolling over to an empty bed several hours later, you grumble as you try to identify the source of your wakeup call. Cursing as you smack your arm against your side table, you finally manage to grab your ringing cell phone. Seeing RC flash as the contact calling, you groan loudly, before hitting the decline button and rolling back over. A minute later your phone chimes again, indicating a voice mail.

You figure there’s no point in drawing out the inevitable, so you unlock the phone and listen the voicemail Rafe left. He’s invited you to hang out with him and his friends on his dad’s yacht. Before you can talk yourself out of it, you’ve sent him a text to say you’d be there in an hour. Despite there being no love lost between you and Rafe, you really don’t have any better options and maybe if you tell your mom who you’re hanging out with she’ll get off your back and not subject you to The Lecture. You and Sarah used to laugh and joke about The Lecture, about how being a Y/L/N means being perfect and obtaining a perfect husband. The two of you would mock your mother, exaggerating her southern drawl that slipped out as she lectured you on the importance of propriety and ‘leaving something to the imagination’.

As you slip on a navy sundress with a deep neckline, you laugh, thinking to yourself that there’s not much left to leave to the imagination. You take the time to curl the ends of your hair to create a bouncy wave and apply a few coats of waterproof mascara and lip gloss. The humid heat of the OBX keeps your makeup routine light in the summer.

“And just where do you think you’re going?” Shit. Your dad’s home, he knows you stayed out all night, and he’s pissed. You don’t think your mom told him the full story, because he’s not frothing at the mouth mad, just his typical disappointed mad.

“Rafe invited a couple of friends to hang out on his dad’s yacht, daddy,” you reply back, not meeting his eyes.

You can tell your dad disapproves, because the lines between his eyebrows are more pronounced with his narrowed eyes. As he starts to give you what you’re sure is an impassioned lecture, your mother pops up out of nowhere, gushing, “Rafe? Well of course you can go sweetie, isn’t that right hon?” she turns to your dad, a single eyebrow raised daring him to defy her. Your parents are the ultimate power couple, wielding power and guilt over each other almost as easily as they try to do to you.

He sighs, realizing the fight with his vengeful wife isn’t worth the lesson you’re not going to learn anyway and nods, “Alright, just be back for supper, we’re going to sit down as a family tonight. And tell Sarah we said hi.”

If either parent noticed your stiffened back, they don’t comment on it. You hadn’t told them that Sarah dumped you like yesterday’s news just yet. Why blow a perfect cover story? Again, the lack of guilt should probably concern you, but you’re more focused on the very expensive, very good quality wine that you know is waiting for you on the Cameron’s yacht.

An hour later, you’re sitting between a very uncomfortable Topper and a disinterested Kelce with a full wineglass in your left hand. Your right hand slides your sunglasses back onto your eyes to shield them from the harsh sunlight that beats down directly on your face.

You can’t find the energy to strike up a conversation with either of them, and they don’t seem very inclined to start one either, so you turn your head to the side and look out at the water until you see a familiar beat up boat approaching. You visibly tense as your eyes lock on your blonde former best friend laughing with her arm around John B as their stupid friends talk and laugh around them. “You okay, y/n?” Kelce finally speaks, noticing your change in posture.

“Never better,” you drily reply moving to turn your head back to the other side of the yacht, as if the other boat on the water didn’t exist at all. Your eyes briefly flicker to the other blond on the boat, taut muscles on display beyond the ratty cut-off tank top as the pogue known as JJ attempts to wrestle with his friend Pope. You feel a drop in your stomach that perplexes you as your eyes scan his sunkissed skin. Startled, you turn your head quickly and take a huge sip of your wine.

You anticipated some sort of confrontation, maybe a thrown insult, but their boat simply eclipsed the yacht and they continued on their way. You were annoyed by the concerned look that Kelce threw your way after they had left, so you downed your glass and grabbed Rafe’s hand and all but dragged him inside the cabin.

The second the door shuts behind you, you’re on him, mouths mashing in a hungry kiss. He smirks against your mouth and leads you into the bathroom and proceeds to rid you of your clothes.

As you’re letting Rafe Cameron fuck you in the bathroom of his yacht, your mind can’t help but think you’re fucking over Sarah, too.

“Fuck baby, you feel so good,” he praises in your ear as he thrusts into you from behind. You don’t even have the energy to fake a moan, you just lean your head back against his shoulder.

When he’s finished, you simply slip your dress back on, refill your glass and sit back between Topper and Kelce as if they didn’t just hear you hook up with their best friend.

You go to bed early that night after a “nice family dinner” that consists of back-handed compliments and your mother fishing for details about your time on the yacht. You don’t think she’d be too pleased about letting Rafe ‘have you’ before ‘locking you down’, so you keep it to a minimum. Both parents drill it into your head that as a Y/L/N, you’re held to a higher standard than your peers. Perfect grades, perfect life, perfect daughter. You don’t know how to tell them you don’t even feel human anymore, so you smile and nod as they pester and nag. Your little sister sits quietly the whole time, looking at you with an emotion you can’t quite decipher.

[blouisparadise]

Upon request, we’ve added to our friends to lovers rec list. You can find part one here and there will also be a part three (and possibly a part four!) up eventually, which will be linked here when it’s been posted. We hope you enjoy these fics! Happy reading.

1) Roses In The Rain | Mature | 5267 words

“Don’t- I know what you’re going to ask, and I… Harry, I can’t,” he said, his voice cracking. “Please. You know that I can’t.”

Louis had his six siblings and his old house with its falling-apart porch to take care of. This town was where people still approached him, 8 years after high school graduation, to tell him that they loved him as Danny in Grease. This town was where he had his pick of suitors, where he had his first kiss, where he took his first steps, where his mama lived, died, and was buried, and he couldn’t leave just to follow some man that he loved.

Harry, for now, seemed to understand that.

“Okay, baby,” Harry sighed, rubbing his eyes. “Okay.”

2) Candy In Your Mouth (I Know You Love Me) | Explicit | 6937 words

Things have shifted since last Christmas.

3) Glimpse Of The Silhouettes | Explicit | 7181 words

Harry isn't sure what the rules are for this. It's hard to believe that there are any, that's there's a handbook just waiting for him to buy: why is my best mate getting hard in my lap when I touch his arse?

4) Woke Up Feeling Knotty | Explicit | 7903 words

Beta Louis has a kink for knotting and the secret aesthetic porn blog he runs about it is more than proof.  When he accidentally finds out his alpha best friend Harry is one of his biggest fans, he knows he has to come clean after everything that has already happened between them.  Harry just might be willing to help him out anyway.

5) A Love Reaction | Explicit | 9968 words

It's never been a thing. Not until now.

6) Got It Right Such A Long Time Ago | Explicit | 9699 words

Four months into One Direction's hiatus, Louis comes to stay with Harry after a bad breakup.

7) (You're Gonna See Me In A) New Light | Mature | 13631 words

A fake relationship AU where everyone knows it's real but Louis.

8) As A Memento From Me | Explicit | 15817 words

Five lives in which Harry and Louis didn’t end up together, and one in which they did.

9) I Put A Spell On You | Explicit | 17525

A BBC/Secret Santa mashup featuring Captain Niall, our intrepid weatherman/amateur matchmaker, rather clueless sports reporter Liam, charming political analyst Zayn, and cheeky entertainment reporter Louis. Harry is the new fashion correspondent who prefers to dress like a flamingo. And pining. There’s a lot of pining.

10) Oblivious | Explicit | 19095 words

Where Louis gets a little crush on Luke and for some reason Harry starts acting weird.

11) Break Open The Sky | Explicit | 20372 words

Werewolf AU. Harry might be a werewolf, but he still wants to experience Uni like everyone else. Turns out he learns a lot.

12) Runnin’ Like You Did | Explicit | 20061 words

The college AU where Louis knows how to hold a grudge and is definitely not in love with Harry Styles.

13) UN(RE)SOLVED. | Explicit | 20873 words

The ghoul boys are back, but this time around there are some unresolved feelings involved. Harry is a skeptic, Louis is not. Watch them go on their ongoing investigation into the question: are ghosts real?

14) Hats Off To My Distant Hope | Explicit | 20990 words

Harry is in White Eskimo. Louis is in London.

15) The Way The Storms Blow | Explicit | 20649 words

Louis doesn’t have a habit of thinking about Harry’s dick.

That would be weird, seeing as they’re best mates, and they share a flat, and they’ve spent holidays at each other’s family homes. Their friendship hasn’t ever risen to a point where Louis should want to see his mate’s dick, and he’s happy to keep it that way.

Except, all that Louis can think about is exactly that. The size of it. The shape. The amount of people it’s been in.

Maybe it’s the tequila talking, or the fact that Louis’ just recently walked in to an eyeful of Harry taking turns on some slags that he’s never seen before, but. Louis’ mind can’t stop obsessing over the idea.

16) Love Like Wildfire | Explicit | 21774 words

Louis was an Omega and a Prefect. Harry was an Alpha and a little rascal. They were mates, drawn to each other since they first met in the Hogwarts Express. They worked well like that, or at least they tried, which only made their relationship way more interesting.

17) Indestructible | Explicit | 24423 words

“Hi,” Harry murmurs, and Louis hiccups out a sob.

“Hi,” he manages, still clutching onto Harry’s shoulders. Harry’s fingers drift across Louis’ cheeks, and there’s something off about Harry’s expression, but Louis can’t figure out what it is.

“I’m okay,” Harry says, and Louis is going to say something to that, even if he doesn’t know what, except Harry’s kissing him.

Louis freezes.

18) A Whole New World | Not Rated | 24967 words

Louis has moved into his new apartment to start his new job as a teacher. Things would be great. If only his arsehole neighbour didn't wake him up every morning by playing piano.

19) Another Day Gettin’ Into Trouble | Explicit | 25619 words

Harry’s drunk when the idea occurs to him. He’s also a pop star, so sometimes his drunk ideas turn into actual things instead of just ideas. The clone-a-willy kit is one of them.

In Harry’s defense, when he first thinks about it his intention is just to buy the kit and give it to Louis to make his own dildo with, because that’s what he wants anyway, right? To have a penis filling him up?

Then he realizes that it would be weird if Louis made a copy of his own dick to fuck himself with. It’d be super weird. Louis fucking himself? That’s a weird idea. Harry’s pretty sure Louis wouldn’t like that.

Clearly the only solution here is to use his own dick for the mold.

20) Brooklyn Saw Me | Explicit | 28537 words

In the cold and unforgiving city of New York, Louis doesn't have a home and Harry wants to give him one. But as their heartstrings become increasingly intertwined, and the snow continues to fall, home is getting harder and harder to find.

21) Rivers ‘Til I Reach You | Explicit | 29315 words

AU. Louis studies astronomy; Harry studies Louis. They spend their summers on the water and it shouldn't be complicated (spoiler: it is).

22) If Ignorance Be Bliss | Mature | 30429 words

Uni AU: Harry is too experienced, and Louis just wants to get to experience him.

23) Blind From This Sweet, Sweet Craving | Explicit | 31170 words

"So, I guess we'll go?" Louis asks later, when Harry has calmed down and eaten his weight in Chinese food. He plays with this chopsticks, spearing another piece of chicken and pops it in his mouth. "I mean, I wouldn't mind. We could make it an adventure."

Harry observes him, watches him seated across from him on their old living room carpet, with a container of food on his lap. He's fidgeting, avoiding meeting Harry's gaze–he probably knows that Harry's mad at him for ruining the one chance they had to get out of this situation. And he's not wrong, Harry is definitely very mad. Harry wants to strangle him and castrate him and smack him upside the head.

But he's also Harry's best friend, and despite everything, despite all the fuck-ups and the plot twists and everything just not playing out the way it should, he'd still rather be stuck in this situation with Louis than any of the other boys. He's got Harry's back, and in a weird, abstract way, he knows they'll be able to get out of this situation, together.

Harry sighs. "We're going," he says resignedly, his shoulders slumping.

Oh well. There are definitely worse ways to spend the weekend than pretending to be engaged to his best friend.

24) Welcome Back From The Friend Zone | Mature | 32354 words

The one where an idea to create a fake wedding with the sole intent to receive gifts from billionaires took a turn no one, but also everyone, saw coming.

25) The List | Mature | 32074 words

'In the weeks that follow, Harry opens his old journal more than he has in the past two years each time he remembers Venice or thinks about Louis. He always flips to the same random page in the middle of the book, marked by the picture of himself that Louis sent him a few days after they got home. There’s a message on the back that says, ‘Spontaneous looks good on you! See you soon,’ and it makes Harry’s chest warm each time he reads it. He wedges their list out from between the worn pages, and it feels silly staring down at a folded up piece of paper with a strange sense of nostalgia for experiences they’ve yet to have; for places they’ve never even been.'

26) Mark My Word (We Gon’ Be Alright) | Explicit | 35524 words

An A/B/O AU featuring an oblivious Harry as the pack leader, a pining Louis as his second-in-command, and an entourage of friends and family who are a little too good at keeping their mouths shut.

27) The Sun Will Rise With My Name On Your Lips | Explicit | 37927 words

When Eleanor breaks up with Louis he finds it hard to keep pretending that Harry isn’t what he’s wanted since the day he first met him.

28) Runner On Third | Explicit | 39643 words

Note: The sequel to this fic is not BL.

The AU where Louis and Harry were best friends growing up, but lost touch after Harry moved away. Ten years later, Harry has moved back to town, but he and Louis don't pick up where they left off.

29) My Sweetest Downfall | Mature | 42048 words

Louis is a retired guardian angel. After the death of his last charge, he became jaded. Humans die—what use is prolonging the inevitable?

He's more than happy to forget about humanity altogether until one day, when Louis is pulled from his desk job for a new assignment: protect One Direction's Harry Styles. It doesn't help that there's something about Harry that Louis can't resist, and it's making him question everything he's ever known. Humans are strictly off limits, and breaking that rule means risking everything, but Harry just might be worth it.

This is a story about forgiveness and discovery, featuring an angel who wants to be a little more human and a human who is so much more than he seems.

30) For the Sake of Propriety | Mature | 52360 words

Louis Tomlinson is the caretaker of an estate that is not truly his, and when his Uncle calls upon him to take it back, Louis knows he will soon be out on the streets with four overly zealous sisters to care for.  His only solution: wed the eldest two off and pray for the best.  When an even better solution unexpectedly presents itself in the form of the charming Mr. Styles, Louis is faced with a difficult choice.  But as with all things in the regency era, reputation very well may threaten to outweigh the fleeting matters of his heart.

31) The Bachelor | Explicit | 53953 words

The one where Harry dates six other guys and still falls in love with Louis Tomlinson.

32) We’ve Got the World in Our Hands | Explicit | 54964 words

Note: This fic has been locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

A mutants/superpowers AU. Louis and his friends attend the Cowell Institute for General Education and Mutant Training in London; when Louis meets Harry, the newest student at the Cowell Institute, he immediately recruits Harry to help play matchmaker for his friend Zayn. Harry and Louis are so caught up in meddling in Zayn's love life, though, that they don't notice that their own friendship is progressing into something more. Meanwhile, an ominous threat up north grows slowly until suddenly, no mutant - or human - is safe.

33) Waiting For The Tides To Meet | Explicit | 49873 words

Soulmate AU. Everyone is born with heterochromia — one eye is their own eye colour, while the other is the colour of their soulmate's. It's only when they meet their soulmate for the first time that their own eyes match properly. After a hazy night at a frat party, Louis wakes up to blue eyes and the shocking realization that he had met his soulmate, without any sober recollection. Seven years pass where Louis comes to terms with the fact that he'll never know who his soulmate is. Then one fated summer, a beautiful green-eyed photographer arrives at Louis' workplace, with promises of endless laughter and a familiar feeling in Louis' heart.

34) Since I’ve Found You | Mature | 74005 words

Louis woke up on the morning he was meant to volunteer at the Feed the Homeless program at St. Mary's church hoping for an opportunity to give back a little to a city that has given him everything he could ever want. Little did he know, there was one more great thing waiting there for him; a boy with radiant green eyes in a weathered jacket and a beat-up backpack slung over his shoulders.

35) Saving Symphony Hall | Mature | 124766 words

Note: This fic is a sequel to this fic.

“I think I have an idea,” Louis said. Slowly, and reluctantly, but with a growing sense of the inevitable. “God damnit, I think I have a really good idea.”

“Oh christ, that's the problem-solving face,” Babs said. “Last time we saw that face, he sold a company.”

“Wait, what?” Zayn asked.

“Right place, right time,” Louis said. “Also, fuck my life,”

“What?” Zayn repeated. Niall patted his hand.

“I usually just roll with whatever Louis is about to do,” he said. “It’s better for us all.”

“That’s the attitude,” said Louis, “I’ll tell you tomorrow. Tonight, I need to do some research. Zayn, give me your number. I’m gonna save our symphony.”

36) Falling Into You | Mature | 143517 words

In the grand scheme of adolescence and boyhood, Harry was still working himself out, so far with little luck. But four things he could say for certain: 1) he'd been at the top of his class all through primary and secondary school, 2) he was the shittiest alpha to ever walk the earth, 3) Liam Payne never let him forget it, and 4) he’d been in love with this boy, Louis Tomlinson, ever since he was fifteen years old.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

[goulets]

Heartland

Chapter: 1/8 Pairing: Jason Todd/Dick Grayson Additional Characters: Colin Wilkes, Damian Wayne, Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake, Alfred Pennyworth Rating: T (for now) Case Fic/Kid Fic a03 link

Jason looks down at the baby, at watery brown eyes and tiny hands, fingers stretching out without knowing what they're reaching for. She yawns and makes a sucking noise, turning her head into his chest.

Damn it.

“We'll do shifts,” he says to Dick, making his tone as businesslike as possible. “I still have shit to do; I can't sit around playing house with you all day.”

Dick doesn't smile, but Jason can see that he wants to. “That sounds reasonable.”

“This is temporary. Just until we find the fuckers that want to take her out.”

“Sure it is.” Dick's all doe-eyed now, watching the baby settle down to sleep. “Welcome home, Jaybird.”

(colin)

It's a quarter past five and the first streams of daylight are curling over the horizon when Colin finally makes it back to the orphanage. He's down to his normal size, brass knuckles heavy in his pockets and slowing his already exhausted steps. It'll be at least three hours before the younger kids wake up; time enough to get one REM cycle in before he's got all those mouths to feed. Damian taught him about monitoring his REM cycles, how it's sometimes better to get three hours than four, how to stay sharp even when he's running on no sleep at all.

Even better, Dick once told him he's welcome at the manor anytime he needs to rest undisturbed, or a hot meal, or a 'flying lesson', whatever that means. Damian had thrown a batarang at his head when he'd suggested it, so Colin assumes it's some kind of inside joke. Regardless, he hasn't been back at the manor to take Dick up on his offer. Batman's back – the real Batman – and Colin would be the worst kind of liar if he said he wasn't a little bit terrified to face him, considering the circumstances of their first meeting.

A motion in the alley next to the orphanage catches his eye, and he stills. Vagrants don't usually start coming around until the soup kitchen opens, and all the thugs he's used to dealing with tend to wait until the kids are up to start messing with them. That's why Colin likes the walk back from patrol, despite his tiredness, despite the chill that rolls off the ever-present fog. The city's glow is muted at this hour, its inhabitants either just starting to stir or just turning in. He's alone with the smog and the molten aura of the streetlights, and there's a quiet about it all that makes even the bloodstains on his knuckles feel pure, purposeful.

That said, he really does need to invest in some gloves.

The figure in the alley is still moving, clumsy and hurried, and all at once Colin realizes what it is they're fumbling with. There's a sort of house-shaped capsule outside St. Aden's, a narrow chute with a small door that doesn't have a lock, and a weathered sign on the front that depicts the outline of an infant. It's a Safe Surrender site, a place where people can legally abandon their newborns, and someone is using it for the first time since Colin's been at the orphanage.

He creeps closer, keeping to the shadows.

The figure spends about five more seconds fumbling with something on the ground, then wrenches open the door to the capsule and deposits something inside. Colin's stomach twists; the blue light above the capsule illuminates, and he can hear a faint alarm going off in the nuns' office. He wonders if they'll even know what it's for. The figure startles at the light, hastily grabs what looks like an empty bag off the ground, and bolts.

Colin wants to follow, but finds himself unable to walk past the capsule without checking it, and once he sees what's inside, he knows there's no chance of him giving chase. The baby is sleeping, definitely not a newborn, but not more than a few months old. Its tiny body is wrapped in a dirty blanket, wisps of black hair sticking out from an unprotected head. Colin supposes he wouldn't have needed to pursue whoever dropped it off; for all intents and purposes, they might think they're doing the right thing. St. Aden's won't turn the baby away, and it's a better option than leaving it in a gutter or a dumpster, which, in Gotham, is not a thing unheard of.

The baby stirs as a stiff breeze swirls through the alley, making Colin shiver. The nuns will be dressed and out in five minutes, give or take. They'll at least put a hat on the baby, Colin thinks. He doesn't know much about babies, but he knows they need hats. The orphanage has baby hats, and diapers, and blankets, albeit thin ones, most with holes. They might even have a spare teddy bear for when the baby has nightmares. No one comforts you when you have nightmares at St. Aden's. The nuns aren't big on hugs, even the babies they hold as little as possible.

Colin may not know a lot about babies, but he knows what happens when you don't hold them. The kids at the orphanage who've been there since infancy are a testament to that. Colin shivers again, thinking of vacant eyes and hunched shoulders. Pale skin and raw voices. Underdeveloped, broken bodies, floating in the river.

The light in the nuns' office comes on. Less than a minute now. Before he can fully process what he's doing or why he's doing it, Colin scoops the baby out of the capsule and cradles it carefully in his arms, walking briskly out of the alley the way that he came. The fog feels damper; it clings to him like it means to shield him from view. As an afterthought, Colin takes off his own hat and uses it to cover the baby's head.

***

“What is so urgent,” Damian snarls, swinging into the garage and making Colin jump and almost topple over, “that it couldn't wait at six in the fucking morning?”

Moving past his initial alarm, Colin feels relief wash over him at seeing his friend. Damian is decked out in his Robin costume and, all things considered, no grumpier than usual. “I'm so glad you're here,” he says in a rush. “I think – I think I screwed up, and I don't know what to do. Um.”

He decides not to draw it out, and instead steps aside, gesturing to the side compartment of his motorcycle. The baby is still sound asleep; he's wrapped his jacket around it as well. He won't die from the cold, but he worries that the baby might.

“What the – ” Damian blinks at the sleeping infant, then points to Colin without looking away. “Explain.”

Colin does. “And I thought if I called you, you might know what to...because you and Batman have handled this kind of stuff, right? You know who to, um.” He pauses, and realizes that he doesn't actually know why his first instinct was to call Damian, aside from the fact that he really has no one else to call. He wraps his arms around himself and lets out a short breath. “What do we do?”

“There's no 'we',” Damian says automatically, just like Colin knew he would. “You can't take care of a baby. You're ten. You have to put it back.”

Colin doesn't move. He knows Damian is probably right. “I just,” he starts to say, searching for the words. He's so tired he can barely think straight. “I guess I wanted it to have a chance. You know? Kids at the orphanage...kids like me, we don't get a lot of choices. Everyone ends up being a bad guy or a victim.” He swallows. “We don't need any more of either in this town.”

Damian scowls and rubs at his mask absently. “You're not either one of those things.”

Colin look at his fist and squeezes it, concentrating. Within a minute, his forearm is as big around as his leg. “No, I'm not,” he says. Damian has gone very still. Colin closes his eyes and feels his way back to his normal size, flexing his hand once it's shrunk back down. “Not anymore.”

“I – ” Damian cuts himself off, clenching his jaw. “Fine. We'll take it back to the manor. We have to go now, before they realize I'm gone.”

Colin bites back a grin and scoops the baby up, cradling its head carefully against his chest. The baby's face isn't cold anymore, which gives him an unexpected surge of elation, and he practically skips to Damian's side, earning a severely reproachful look from his friend.

“How did you get here?”

“I swiped Father's keys,” Damian says dryly, holding them out and pressing a button. Brilliant headlights illuminate the alley outside the garage, and Colin's jaw drops as a sleek, two-door Batmobile pulls up in front of them.

“How did – ”

“Remote autopilot. It drives itself.”

“Whoa.”

Damian rolls his eyes and presses another button, making the roof retract halfway. He swings in over the door and says, “Don't scratch the interior.”

Colin slides in beside him, awestruck. He's in the freaking Batmobile. If everything under the sun goes wrong with this sort-of kidnapping, even if he winds up in jail, it'll be so worth it.

***

(jason)

Jason's not having a particularly good day.

Scratch that, it's nine in the morning, and Jason's already not having a particularly good day.

“Where did you say you heard this?” Bruce asks, frowning at his computer screen. Translation: which parts of this are you lying about, Jason?

“Oh, you know,” Jason says, not caring to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. “Me and some of my League buddies were doing tapas over at Ocho, and you know how they get when the wine starts pouring.” Bruce glares at him, and he glares right back. “All I know is Shiva's overseas for the foreseeable future. Just thought I'd share, since I heard you were looking. But whatever you want her for, I'm telling you, she probably didn't do it. This time.”

Bruce stares at him, cold and still as a statue. Jason wants to hit himself. Idiot move, coming here. Not like the Great Bat Detective needs his legwork anyhow.

He squares his shoulders and says, “Hey, take it or leave it. Which, speaking of, I'm gonna go ahead and leave now.”

Bruce's silence follows him out, and Jason practices the tried-and-true strategy of stirring up old resentments to mask the hurt. Not like he'd expected old Batsy to fall all over himself with excitement on account of a visit from his fallen son, but there's a cold reception, and there's the patented Bruce Wayne Freeze-Out. If Jason had imagined their shared history of returning from the dead would bring them closer together, he'd been sorely mistaken.

“Will you be joining us for breakfast, Master Jason?” Alfred asks, wiping his hands on a dish towel as Jason attempts to hustle past the kitchen. Habit has him pausing, because you just don't blow off Alfred, and that small hesitation is all it takes for the smells wafting out of the kitchen to hit him head-on. And oh, do they hit him. Pancakes, eggs, bacon – turkey bacon, Jason's favorite, of course Alfred remembers that stupid little detail. He probably also remembers that Jason is pathologically incapable of refusing food. Bastard.

“I'm not really – ” he starts to say hungry, but his stomach picks that exact moment to let loose a traitorous growl that echoes down the hallway and probably wakes up any still-asleep inhabitants of the manor.

Alfred, to his everlasting credit, doesn't even flinch. Jason heaves a sigh. “Yeah, all right. Just a bite, I guess.”

“I'll set a place for you.” Like the old man hasn't already.

Jason tugs off his gloves and makes his way to the sink to wash up. No telling what's living under his nails these days, but it's probably better not to ingest it.

“This is really good, Alfie,” he says through a thick bite of pancake. “Damn. I hope the new kid knows how good he's got it.”

“I'm afraid I haven't met anyone quite as enthusiastic about my cooking as you, Master Jason. Except, on occasion – Master Richard!”

“Hey, Alfie! Man it smells good, what's the occasion?” A shirtless, pajama-pants clad Dick Grayson bounds into the kitchen, more golden retriever than man, and stops on one foot with his face six inches above the bacon pan, breathing in. “Hey, is that turkey bacon?” He whirls around. “Jason!”

“Um.” Jason goes very stiff in his seat, teeth locked together around a forkful of eggs. Chew, swallow. He hadn't know Dick was here; hadn't figured any of the bat clan would even be awake at this charming daylight hour, except Bruce, who Jason's convinced deprogrammed the biological need to sleep out of his system years ago. “Hey.”

Dick looks pleased to see him, but confused. He's still on one foot. Jason represses the childish urge to throw something at him; knock him over like a big stupid bowling pin. “What are you doing here?”

“Just came by to drop off some intel,” he shrugs, fidgeting with his napkin. “You know how it is. Spend enough time cracking skulls, more than brain tissue leaks out.”

When Dick doesn't react beyond placing both feet on the ground and pursing his lips disapprovingly, Jason puts on his best shit-eating grin. Ah, ruining family meals. Just like old times.

“Thanks for the grub, Alfie,” he calls, swinging his legs over the side of his chair. “Think I've overstayed my welcome now, so I'm just be on my way.” He deliberates for a moment before snatching the last piece of turkey bacon off his plate, then walks briskly out of the kitchen and towards the front door.

“Jason – wait up a second.” Dick's voice behind him, close behind him, practically a whisper. Jason turns and takes a deliberate step backward, putting space between them. He's fairly sure he can take Dick hand-to-hand, but he wants to be as close to the exit as possible when he does.

“What?” he demands, more roughly than he needs to. He shifts his hip to feel the handle of his knife pressing into it; the exact shape he'll mold his palm to if he needs to draw it.

Dick crosses his arms and stares him down steadily. It's a mistake to make eye contact with him, because Dick's stare isn't like Bruce's, shrewd and penetrating, it's not a gaze that takes any effort to hold. Quite the contrary – Jason's always had trouble breaking eye contact with Dick. Bruce's stare goes through him, turns him inside out, but Dick's grips him, surrounds him, takes the full measure of him without pulling everything ugly to the surface. It's unnerving. He'd rather face Bruce any day.

“You don't have to leave just because I walked into the room.”

He shouldn't be able to project so much earnestness in nothing but faded Superman sleep pants, Jason thinks. It defies human nature.

“It was more of a sashay,” he smirks, still not blinking. “And it's not on your account, don't worry. I just have shit to do.”

“You should come by more often,” Dick presses.

It's all Jason can do not to throw his head back and laugh. “Right,” he says, narrowing his eyes. “That's gonna happen over Bruce's dead body.”

There's a flash of pain on Dick's face, and Jason thinks his phrasing was probably ill-advised. Too soon and all. Oh well.

“That's not true,” Dick shakes his head, shaggy hair falling in front of his eyes. Jason feels a bizarre and fleeting urge to brush it away, makes it an immediate priority to repress desires like that as far down as they can possibly go. “Look, I know it hasn't always been easy – ”

Jason scoffs. “Oh, sure.”

“ – but if you'd just give him some time, I know he wants you back, Jason. You're family. And I think you know it too, or you wouldn't even be here.”

Defiant rage stirs in Jason's stomach, but this isn't the time or the place for that kind of reaction. He settles instead on indifference. “That's an old tune, Dickie. Might be time to learn some new ones.”

Dick's expression softens. Damnit. This is why he can't stand around talking to Dick, making fucking chitchat and this perverse, endless eye contact. They observe each other in circles, it's nearly impossible to hide, and Dick doesn't hide anything, which means Jason's at an automatic disadvantage. Every goddamn time.

It's pointless to bare his teeth in a grin and offer a sardonic wave, but Jason does it anyways. “It's been real, Boy Wonder. I'll catch you la – ”

“Shh.” Dick puts up a finger, frowning. He looks up the stairs. “Do you hear that?”

If this is another strategy to try and stall him, Jason's gonna start throwing punches. “Hear what?” he demands. He's about to tell Dick to go fuck himself – which, he probably can, fucking acrobat – no, bad visual, stop thinking about Dick naked, Jesus fucking Christ – when he hears it too.

It sounds like – “Is that a baby?” He looks sideways at Dick. “Bruce have a second love child already?”

Dick says, “I'll see you later, Jason,” and starts climbing the stairs.

Well, obviously Jason can't leave now.

They follow the cries down one of the many upstairs hallways, which, from the portraits and weaponry lining the walls, Jason figures must lead to Damian's room. Dick pauses outside a closed door, pressing his ear to it, and, curiosity getting the better of him, Jason follows suit.

“You have to get it to shut up! The whole mansion's probably heard it by now!”

“I'm trying!” an unfamiliar voice hisses, and there's the sound of a hiccup from a third unfamiliar voice. Presumably something babylike. “Do you think it's hungry?”

“How the hell should I know? This was your moronic idea, Colin, don't you know anything about babies?”

“Maybe we should google it.”

“I'm going to kill you. Actually, when Father finds out we kidnapped a fucking baby, he'll kill us both. I can't believe I let you talk me into this mess.”

The crying starts again. Dick looks at Jason and mouths, one, two, three, before pushing the door open and revealing their presence.

It's quite a scene. Damian's in half his costume, mask, boots, and cape discarded on the floor, and he's grinding his teeth at another boy, a redhead kid in a dirty checkered sweatshirt who looks to be around his age. The redhead kid looks horrified to see them standing there, first going furiously red, then white as a sheet. But the thing that really grabs Jason's attention is the baby – yep, a flesh-and-blood human infant – cradled awkwardly in the redhead kid's arms, screaming its tiny head off.

Dick looks between them, his eyes enormous. “Damian? Colin? What is this?”

It's a question, not an accusation. Jason has to hand it to him; Bruce would've had them sizzling on the grill the second the word 'kidnapped' reached his ears.

Colin says, “It's not what it looks like!”

Dick glances sideways at Jason. “Okay, but. I'll be honest, I'm not even sure what it looks like.”

Jason shrugs. “You kids abduct any babies lately?”

“We didn't abduct it,” Damian snarls. “Colin found it. Abandoned. It was my mistake to bring it here.”

The baby cries louder. It's a miracle Alfred hasn't come running yet.

“Someone dropped it at St. Aden's,” Colin says quickly, between bouts of screaming. “I just – I couldn't just leave it there, you don't know what it's like, growing up that way.” He clutches the baby to him fiercely, bitterness etched all over his face. “You might as well hand him over to the gangs right now, because that's where he'll end up.”

Dick looks horribly conflicted. Jason laughs out loud.

“So, what was your plan?” he asks incredulously. “Two ten year olds, teaming up to raise a baby? Which one of you's the mom?”

Dick's arm blocks Damian's sharp kick to Jason's face. “Thank you, Jason, that was helpful,” he says. “But, uh, what was the plan, exactly?”

Everyone looks to Colin, who shrinks visibly under their combined gaze. “I don't know,” he says in a small voice, nearly indecipherable beneath the baby's cries. “I hadn't really thought that far ahead. I just – I thought Batman could save him.”

It takes everything in Jason's face-saving book not to respond to that, but he barely manages to keep his mouth shut. Dick shoots him a look of gratitude, and he rolls his eyes. Obviously there are more pressing issues at hand than his lingering manpain; Jason's not that self-involved.

“Okay,” Dick says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Here's how we solve this. He – she? – we'll figure it out, whatever, is probably hungry. And wet. Did you two change its diaper?”

Damian and Colin look at each other and shrug helplessly. “Right.” Dick points one hand behind him. “I'm going to go to the kitchen; I know Alfred keeps formula in there somewhere. And we should have diapers in one of the emergency supply closets. I'll get that stuff. Jason, take the baby for a minute, would you? Colin looks like he's about to drop.”

Jason backs against the wall, saying, “Oh no, I don't – that's not a – ” but then the screaming bundle is being precariously extended towards him, and instinct has him reaching out to take it.

“Jesus,” he mutters, feeling the fragile weight of the baby in his arms. Can't be much more than ten pounds. He has handguns with more substance than this thing. “Where're you keeping those lungs, little guy?”

Silence falls over the room, and it takes Jason a minute to realize that he didn't spontaneously go deaf, the baby stopped crying. Its tiny eyes – brown, dark and wet – are blinking up at him like he's the most interesting thing in the world.

Oh, no.

This is a disaster.

He doesn't hear Dick's intake of breath so much as he feels it, which might be because he's holding his breath too, because the baby is looking at him, and damnit, this is the last fucking thing he needs in his life. “Go,” he says to Dick, inserting as much venom into his voice as possible, wrenching his eyes away from the baby's. “It's probably just going into shock or something.”

The baby farts.

“Okay, or that.”

Dick bites his lip hard, and ten different emotions of various intensities flash through Jason's gut. Then he's gone, cartwheeling down the staircase, knowing him.

Colin says, “Wow, it really likes you.”

Damian smirks. “I guess we know who the mom is.”

“Don't think because I've got a ten pound handicap I won't kick your ass, kid,” Jason snaps. It's an empty threat, and they all know it. For now anyways. Once the baby situation's dealt with, all bets are off.

Dick's back within five minutes, armed to the teeth with things more frightening to Jason than any weapon he can imagine. Diapers, wipes, blankets, bottles, even a tiny blue hat that looks handmade. Jason's heart thuds unevenly in his chest, recognizing Alfred's handiwork in the stitching; indisputable evidence that Bruce Wayne, Batman, was once a baby just like this one. It'd be hilarious, if he could push a laugh past the lump in his throat.

“Here.” Dick hands him a diaper. It has Mickey Mouse on it.

Jason shakes his head. “Nuh-uh. I didn't sign up for this shit. And I mean that in the literal sense; I did not put 'clean up baby shit' in my day planner today.” He thrusts the diaper back at Dick.

“Fine,” Dick snaps, holding his arms out expectantly. “Give me the baby. Damian, shake up this formula, will you?”

Damian snatches the bottle out of his hand and shakes it with the aggression of a paint mixer. Well, hey, at least he's dedicated.

The baby starts to fuss as it's transferred from Jason's arms to Dick's, and the lump in Jason's throat gets bigger. “Hey, hey,” Dick croons, settling the baby down on the rug and starting to unwrap its blanket. “You're okay, little guy. We got you – oh, I'm sorry,” he grins, glancing up at Jason. “Little girl, I'm guessing.”

Jason peers over his shoulder and sees that under the blanket, the baby is wearing tiny pink pajamas with little white and green flowers. Like the blanket, the pajamas are dirty. He wonders when the baby last had a bath.

Not your problem. He needs to get the hell out of here.

“Ooh, someone's got a full diaper,” Dick goes on. Jason wants to kick him in the back of the head. “Let's fix that, huh? Oh, yeah. We'll get someone on that right away.”

Jason jumps backward when Dick extends the dirty diaper to him, and Dick rolls his eyes. “It's just pee. Get over yourself, honestly.”

“Fuck you,” Jason growls. “I'm not part of this.”

Colin walks over with dogged footsteps and takes the diaper from Dick, folding it over until it's a tight little pocket that fits in the palm of his hand. He turns to Damian. “Where's the garbage?”

Damian jerks his head in the direction of the bathroom, and Dick glares at Jason as he refastens the baby's pajamas.

The baby's fussing turns into loud wails again, and Dick picks her – no, it, can't think of it as a person, damnit – up, rocking his arms gently. The baby cries, rubs its face on Dick's chest, and then turns its head and look directly at Jason.

“Aw, Jay. Looks like she's got a crush.”

“Please.” Jason rolls his eyes and tries to ignore the vise that's squeezing in his chest. He really, really needs to leave. Like, yesterday.

But then Dick starts feeding the baby, and Jason finds himself utterly rooted to the spot.

It figures that parenting is something that would come naturally to Dick. It seems like most things come naturally to him, particularly the things that terrify normal people, like leaping off tall buildings, running into the line of fire, taking on twenty armed goons with nothing but his stupid fucking escrima sticks. Dick cradles the baby with arms that've put hundreds of criminals on their asses, arms that are scarred all over, just like Jason's. He gazes down at the baby as it eats, murmuring praise, shifting slowly from foot to foot, and that damn thing won't stop looking at Jason, even while it's sucking enthusiastically at the bottle.

Footfalls behind him; a distinct step he'd know anywhere. “I took the liberty of digging up some clothes for our young guest,” Alfred says, as though nothing is out of the ordinary. “They're a bit dated, but I believe they should still be suitable.”

“Can we all get out of my room now?” Damian asks. “I'd like to change, and I'd prefer to do it without the entire household watching.”

Alfred nods. “Certainly, Master Damian. Master Richard, perhaps it would be prudent to bring this matter to Master Bruce at this time.”

“Yeah, okay,” Dick says, heavily, shooting another look at Jason. Why does he keep doing that? “Let's just get her fed and changed really quick.”

“Of course.”

As soon as they're downstairs, the baby spits out the nipple and screws up its face like it's going to start howling again. Jason doesn't know what it is, some kind of long-buried impulse, a skill set he never thought he'd had to begin with, but he's stepping forward with his arms outstretched, palms open and flat, like he could do a damn thing to keep the baby quiet.

Dick pegs him with a curious look, and Jason freezes. “You wanna hold her?”

“What? No,” Jason says, shoving his arms down to his sides. “I just – I thought you were gonna drop it. Her.”

Dick doesn't say anything, and Jason feels a flush creeping up his neck. “You know what, it seems like you guys have this all handled. I'm just gonna...go.”

He turns, and the baby starts crying again.

Jesus Christ in a goddamn handbasket, this is bad.

“If you wouldn't mind,” Dick says, carefully, “We could use the help. Until we figure out what to do.”

“He can help,” Jason protests, pointing at Colin.

“I actually, um,” Colin looks vaguely terrified, glancing guiltily between them. “I have to go, my kids – there's kids at the orphanage, I have to be there. For them.”

Jason doesn't think about the time he spent on the streets, doesn't relive those fun childhood memories for any reason, but they're a scar on his psyche, forever etched in, and he can't exactly make them go away, either. He remembers the kids from the orphanages, how little and lost they were, better cared for but more unloved than any of the other street kids. He remembers standing up for them as much as he remembers knocking them over and stealing from them. No kids are worse equipped to protect themselves. Colin looks like he weighs eighty pounds soaking wet, but Jason reasons that he wouldn't be friends with Damian if he couldn't take a hit.

Colin probably takes a lot of hits on behalf of his kids. The thought turns Jason's stomach, and he knows he can't ask him to stay.

Dick frowns and starts to say, “I'm sure – ”

“Go,” Jason says quickly, giving Colin a short nod. “It's fine, whatever. My shit can wait a few hours.”

Everyone stares at him. The baby is still crying.

“Oh, for fuck's sake. Fine, give me the damn kid.” He sets his jaw and takes the baby from Dick, expressly avoiding Dick's eyes, or any part of his face, for that matter. The baby fusses for a minute, then seems to catch sight of Jason's face again, and settles down at once.

Shit, shit, shit.

***

“You're doing this completely wrong,” Jason tells the baby as they make their way down to the Batcave. “I'm sure as hell not taking you home with me, I'll tell you that much. No offense.”

The baby coughs, and Jason finds himself holding it a little tighter. It's all very unnerving, the way he's already used to the shape of its small form in his arms, the way its head fits snugly into the soft spot of flesh between his shoulder and his breastbone. Alfred threw out the ratty blanket it was wrapped in and gave them a new one, along with a pink cotton onesie with a stiff lace collar. Purchased forty odd years ago by Martha Wayne, on the off-chance that she was having a baby girl. A little piece of trivia that Jason is going to any lengths necessary not to think about.

“It fits with the intel I got last week,” Tim is saying, “Qurac is a big job; she wouldn't be doing it alone.”

“No,” Bruce agrees, hunched over in front of his massive screen. “Perhaps the League of Assassins isn't behind this at all.”

“So either someone's setting it up to look like they...” Tim trails off, catching sight of Jason, or more accurately, the wiggling bundle in his arms. “Is that a baby?”

Jason looks down and gasps. “Holy shit, how did that get there?”

Dick rolls his eyes. Tim says, “Wait, it's not – ”

“It's not mine, Replacement. Don't give yourself a stroke deducing over there.”

Bruce turns in his chair to face them, frowning deeply. His eyes take in Dick, Jason, and the baby. “Where's Damian?”

Dick steps forward. “He went with Alfred to take Colin ho – back to St. Aden's.”

“Ah.” Bruce nods. “So that's where he went this morning.” His gaze lands on the baby. “I take it the infant came from the orphanage as well.”

“She's really sweet, Bruce.” Dick adopts a pleading voice. “Colin thought he was doing the right thing.”

“Colin can look after her when she's returned to St. Aden's,” Bruce says firmly. “The Mansion is no place for a baby.” He stands and walks over to Jason. “May I?”

It takes Jason a moment to realize that Bruce is asking his permission to hold the baby. He doesn't know what's more surprising, the fact that Bruce is asking at all, or the fact that he wants to refuse, to take the baby and run as far away as possible, to an alternate universe where parents don't abandon their kids or sell them out, where they don't let psychopaths murder them, where they'd rather burn the world down than let any harm come to another child on their watch.

He thinks that Bruce can probably see his struggle painted on his face as he waits for his answer. And he is waiting, because the question wasn't a formality, it's a real uncertainty, and Bruce is asking Jason whether or not he trusts him to take this small life and protect it, even if it's just for a few moments.

Jason's reflexive answer is a harsh and unforgiving fuck no, but that's not the end of it. There's something deeper inside him, something that's been climbing toward the surface for a while now, no matter how hard he tries to bury it, that tells another story. A lot of other stories.

Rather than sift through them, he bites his tongue and hands the baby over. He tells himself he won't look at Bruce to see his reaction, but how often do you get to see Batman with a baby?

Jason will die again a hundred times before he ever admits it, but the vision of Bruce, half-suited up, broad and unyielding and Batman, folding his arms into a cradling position for the baby, is actually pretty fucking charming. He wouldn't've guessed that Bruce had a lot of experience with small children, but he doesn't look uncomfortable. The baby whines and stirs, little hands feebly reaching up to clutch at the bat symbol on his chest, and Jason thinks he actually sees Bruce's mouth quirk in a smile.

“I'm just going to scan her handprint,” he says, addressing Jason.

Jason shrugs. “Whatever.”

The whining stops as soon as he takes the baby over to the enormous computer screen, and Jason hopes that all the lights and flashing images don't fry the baby's brain. There are shots of crime scenes, bodies with blood spilled onto the street, rotating in the corner of the screen, and Jason hopes the baby's subconscious doesn't file those images away for night terrors down the road. Although, if it's going back to the orphanage, it'll see the real thing soon enough.

There's an uplifting thought.

“Danielle Leigh Torres,” Bruce says after a moment. “Born the sixteenth of January. Parents Linda Torres – deceased, and Mitchell Howard, also deceased.”

“Wait a minute.” Tim's gone still with his hand hovering over the keyboard. “Mitch Howard – that's Big Mouth Howard's real name.”

Big Mouth Howard. Jason's heard the name – some lowlife, maybe a bookie? He doesn't know why it'd be significant to any of them, but the way Tim and Bruce are looking at each other suggests that there's something fairly major he's missing. Jason glances at Dick, and is relieved to see that he looks just as out of the loop.

“You two wanna clue us in?” Jason demands, stepping closer to the screen. “Who the fuck is Big Mouth Howard?”

Bruce continues scowling unfathomably at the screen, and Tim lets out a long exhale. “There's been a lot of activity in the East End this past week,” he says. “You guys have probably noticed.”

“Yeah, bunch of dealers got capped,” Jason confirms, still not understanding why this should matter so much to Batman. “Turf wars. Big fucking deal.”

Tim shakes his head. “Not just dealers. Cy Reynolds was Intergang, they bought out the Dragons’ territory a few months ago and have been pulling in major product from Venezuela. His whole family was taken out, all his lieutenants, all their families.” He pulls up a mug shot of a sneering, overweight man with some serious dental issues. “Big Mouth was one of them.”

“So, you're thinking professional hits.”

“Reynolds had a lot of enemies. Guy dipped his pen in way too many wells. We thought Intergang might've taken him out themselves, because he was something of a liability, but why take out the lieutenants?”

“And the families,” Dick adds, frowning. “Someone wanted to send a message.”

“Exactly. He's gotten on the wrong side of the al Ghuls more than once, and this is their style,” Tim continues, pulling up more detailed shots of the bodies. “That one's Linda Torres. She wasn't even married to Big Mouth, but they still got her.”

“League's got bigger fish to fry,” Jason says dismissively. “They wouldn't bother.”

“Yeah, well, you would know,” Tim replies, raising an eyebrow. “Anyways, we're thinking it's a move against Intergang now, not just Reynolds. I have a couple hunches, but we need to examine the bodies more closely to know for sure.”

“Bruce,” Dick says, “if they're really sending a message, they're gonna be looking for Danielle.”

Tim opens his mouth and shuts it. No one speaks, and, as if on cue, the bundle in Bruce's arms starts wailing again.

Something is squeezing Jason's lungs, making it hard for him to breathe normally. Danielle. The baby has a name, it's a goddamn person and it's – she's – been in this world for three fucking months and she's already got a price on her head. God almighty, what a piece of shit world they live in.

Jason grinds his teeth. “No way she goes back to that orphanage.”

Everyone turns to look at him. He ignores them and steps forward, extending his arms towards Bruce, who slides Danielle over to him without protest.

“Jason – ”

“Forget it, Bruce. I don't know what paragraph of your moral code stipulates that you have to throw a fucking baby to the wolves instead of, oh, I don't know, protect her, but you can shove it up your ass. I'll fucking take her if it's that goddamn important to you. And if anyone comes for her, they die.”

“ – I was going to say, I think she should stay here. For the time being.”

Jason pauses. “Oh.”

“Provided, of course, that someone will be able to look after her. Other than Alfred.”

“I'll stay,” Dick volunteers. Of course he does. Fucking boy scout. “Jason?”

Jason looks down at Danielle, at watery brown eyes and tiny hands, fingers stretching out without knowing what they're reaching for. She yawns and makes a sucking noise, turning her head into his chest.

Damn it.

“We'll do shifts,” he says to Dick, making his tone as businesslike as possible. “I still have shit to do; I can't sit around playing house with you all day.”

Dick doesn't smile, but Jason can see that he wants to. “That sounds reasonable.”

“This is temporary. Just until we find the fuckers that want to take her out.”

“Sure it is.” Dick's all doe-eyed now, watching Danielle settle down to sleep. Idiot. “Welcome home, Jaybird.”

***

[savrenim]

hi hi hi. so I just got into the Hamilton fandom, I swear I am four years late where did everybody go, and, well. I am apparently a hamburr shipper. bcs that is my life now. anyway I saw your fic ifmlam and I swear it is my favourite of all the fics I've ever read (and trust me I've read literally thousands). I love it so so much, how do you write fics like that??? I cried about four times during the whole thing, I stayed up till 4am reading it even when I had to wake up at 7 because it is just. that. good. I could not stop thinking about it for days afterwards and ifmlam has just ruined me. I can't think of listen to Hamilton without thinking of ifmlam anymore.

on to my qursttion: is it abandoned? of course it's perfectly FINE if it is. don't let anyone tell u differently, your fic is YOURS and u are amazing.

but pls I really need closure from ur fic, it has been haunting me if its abandoned or ongoing and I've read ur other fics and they are just chefskiss and thank you so much for writing them all. thank you thank you thank you, I will never be able to thank you enough for writing this fic and for everything it's done for me. I am probably thousands of miles away but I am sending you virtual jugs through a co.puter screen right now.

(don't feel pressured to reply to this or update it flam, I know how overwhelming it can get with so many messages and after a while u get desensitized to it. u can literally reply "thx. itfmlam is abandoned" and I would still be amazingly star struck. anyway has gotten way too long and I need to sleep and I'm sorry u probably won't see this so I'm just talking to myself right now but bye!!)

and thank you so so much for writing itfmlam.

aaaah hello anon!

thank you so so much???? I am so??? honored??? that ifmlam rates so highly to you, and also that you've read my other fics??????

the answer to the "is ifmlam abandoned" question is probably the worst possible one, which is pretty much "I do want to finish it, both for the folks that still want closure as well as it bothers to me have abandoned projects that are in the public eye/ already partially published, but also, it is last on my current writing projects list"

my current actually active writing projects list, kind of in order of priority, is

I'm literally three chapters away from being Actually Fully Done with the not-quite-first-not-quite-second let's call it 1.5th draft of an actual?? full?? original?? novel?? Opus which of course then goes out to beta readers and then gets who-knows-how-much edited and then maybe beta readers again if a lot does change and then a copyeditor my mom, my copyeditor is my mom, and maybe my little brother he's one of the betas but is very good at catching typos and then I!!! get to publish it!!!! which is the single thing I am most excited for!!!!!!!!! this should be closed up in the next week or two, and then take a while for people to actually read the draft and get back to me.

I really desperately want to finish my open-but-like-90%-written fic, which means we raise it up, the final chapter of to the bottom of the river bc I realized that it was kind of incomplete, and the second chapter of a buried and a burning flame because any more work there will need to wait until the author publishes the next book in the series. this should be closed up in the next month or two.

Speedwrite the draft of the second book of the Opus series so that hopefully by the time book 1 edits are happening, I have an almost complete draft of the second book. this is mostly me side-eyeing myself about taking nearly four years to write the first book, but that is solidly in part because I had so many other open projects which point 2 is about clearing that docket. this should be done in the next year.

And then just have my major projects be, at least until books 1-5 are written and published, books 1-5 of that because that is arguably the first major 'plot arc' of the series, so if I'm looking for a pause point on writing, that's probably where to stop.

There are two or three other short side projects (a weird fun second person short story tentatively titled witch-queen, a collection of four short stories Memoirs about a not-so-evil necromancer and the shenanigans he gets up to trying to rule a kingdom, working title Perfectly Normal Recipe Blog which is a collaborative project about a perfectly normal recipe blog that definitely doesn't include anything out of the normal) that will happen when they happen

There are other projects that are on the backburner -- The Numanok Files, a series of probably 12-15 short novellas about a mercenary/ bounty hunter esque person in space whose specialty is dealing with hauntings, but, like, 80% of their jobs is actually "you are effectively a space home inspector pointing out faulty wiring reacting to solar flares/ there's a weird alien fungus/ it's carbon monoxide okay change your atmosphere filters" and 20% of it is punching ghosts; there's a post-post apocalypse novel that I want to write that I know characters and general pacing and half the setting but need to work out the other half and figure out how much aesthetic I want to commit to; there's Strangeside7 aka spacerace book that is my reaction to how much I love how Redline the anime movie commits itself to "no we are about a race, like 60% of the screentime is just fully going to be an utterly ridiculous sci fi space race"; there's even a ridiculous YA trilogy that I would have to completely transplant the setting but might end up writing because the interplay between angel-physics and physics-physics was one of my favorite things in the world. and I guess the weird ridiculous technically a sequel series to ifmlam that was going to be published as original books that was basically me having fun with 'okay I fucking love star wars prequels old rotting space bureaucracy galactic republic style' except with seers and that also still might happen because it does have some of the coolest sci fi concepts and honestly I thiiiink that's all?

but the tl;dr of that timeline is I'm trying to finish a punch of projects Right Now, so that I can write books 2-5 of Opus, and then when I'm done that (which honestly, my average fiction-writing output is close to 100k a year. if I'm concentrating purely on one project, and writing books that are about 100k, we are talking four years. although my job situation is super up in the air in that period and writing might get put solidly on the backburner as I try to make it in academia, so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯) I will re-evaluate which projects go next, and that's when ifmlam is likely to come up for review.

I do not have any expectations that I will make it as an original author. I'm planning on posting all of my stuff online for free, but, like. it is incredibly difficult to convince people to try out even a piece of free and easily accessibly original work even if one has a huge following, I am a very small fanfiction author, and from what I can tell the majority of the people who are interested in my work are mostly interested in me finishing ifmlam. writing is a hobby for me, and while I'm writing mostly for me--and hence the for me bit at least for the next five years is pretty solidly going to be this series that I am deeply excited about and have sunk my heart and soul into every single aspect of--I'm human, and I don't really like shouting into the void, and I expect if I spend five years publishing to absolutely no response I will either stop writing for a while and do other things gods know my life is busy enough, return to fandom in general to write some other fanfic about whatever I get deeply into, or return to a work that I actually get response to. so ifmlam will probably start getting worked on a bit at that point one way or another. unless, of course, we are in the incredibly rare timeline in which I do make it as an original author, there are people who are deeply hyped for my original works and an actual demand for them, in which case as you may have noticed there are enough ideas there to keep me busy for a decade or two, and they will just get my full attention instead of fanfiction*. in this timeline, I will do what I was considering doing a few years ago, which is officially declare ifmlam otherwise abandoned and make one more giant chapter update which is a full and cleaned up outline of what I was going to write, interspersed with the scenes already written, and have ifmlam be given at least that closure.

*I want to make it clear that I very much love fanfiction and am proud to have been a fanfiction author and in my heart of hearts would keep writing it forever, I just also have a lot of ideas for characters and settings and magic systems and Aesthetics and I have been biting at the bit to write something that is //mine// and all mine and only mine for a while, I don't see original work as superior so much as there are a dozen fandoms that I am currently in and bursting to make content about except oops these fandoms currently only exist in my head, and I want to correct that

of course given how much as writing is my vent activity and I write what I'm in the mood for, there's a chance I'll feel ifmlam cravings before then, just... expect it to take a couple of years for an update, but also for there to be an update one way of another in a couple of years? but as for right now, I'm turning to original writing, because that is what brings me joy.

but I am really deeply honored that it brought you so much joy!!! and while I will never publish spoilers in a public place, if you message me off anon I am perfectly happy to give a run-down of my current plans for the ending, bc I know "wait a couple years and see" is not the most satisfactory of answers! and hey maybe you'll be like me and once you've given Opus a try you'll decide you like it better too, it does have Seers although they are deeply different Seers than in ifmlam but imo it's very gay and fun and at least politics on one side

[nanoland]

am writing hellblazer fic asfdfsfff

title: The Cave

fandom: Hellblazer

characters: John Constantine, Chas Chandler, the First of the Fallen

blurb: John gets lost in a cave. 

warnings: Depression, covid19, demons getting themselves Extremely murdered. 

0 

It was when the death toll had crested 100,000 that he’d snapped and made his way to Number 10 Downing Street with murder in his eyes and a briefcase full of every cursed artefact he owned.

“What are you gonna do, eh?” bellowed Chas, who’d been following behind him in his cab for the last half mile. He’d already tried to physically drag John into it and had received a bite on the hand for his trouble. “Chuck ‘em through the windows? That’s bulletproof glass, John! Fuck’s sake! Be reasonable!”

“Stop sodding shouting!” John shouted over his shoulder, wiping rain off his face. “You’ll spread sodding germs!”

“John, I already had it. Four months ago, remember?”

“You can have it more than once! Christ, does nobody in this city read the papers but me?”

It was fair to say that John wasn’t at his best. In his defence, he’d spent the last year sitting inside his tiny, poorly-ventilated, roach-ridden flat, vividly imagining what a respiratory virus would do to lungs that had suffered over forty years of heavy smoking, two run-ins with cancer, and the actual devil sticking his actual great big grubby clawed hand in ‘em. No fucking thank you.

Chas sighed heavily and climbed out of the cab again, slamming the door as he did. He splashed through a dozen puddles before coming to stand in John’s path, arms folded. “Listen, Conjob. I love you. Even when you’re a complete prick, which is most of the time. And I know you can do amazing things. But mate, hear me out; you cannot assassinate the British Prime Minister.”

“Someone bloody has to!” John Constantine, greatest wizard of his age, screamed at the top of his wretched, ragged, Satan-besmirched lungs.

Eventually, Chas managed to calm him down and get him home for a cup of tea.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” John grunted as his socks dried in front of the heater and the rational parts of his mind re-exerted themselves.

“S’alright.”

“How’s the bite?”

“Didn’t pierce the skin. John, you need a break. A holiday. You need to get out of town for a few weeks. Go breathe fresh country air, do some weird mystical shit with a goat, whatever it is that sorts your head out these days. But you can’t carry on like this, mate. I haven’t seen you this miserable in years.”

He handed John one of Renee’s strawberry-patterned towels. Dragging it across his face, John grunted, “Holiday? At a time like this?”

“Why not? Makes as much sense as any other time.”

“What if you come down with it again? Or Geraldine? Or Renee?”

“John,” said Chas, gently, laying a hand on his shoulder. “You already tried to cure me with magic. It didn’t work. At all. Just wasted a lot of chicken blood and Renee’s best spoons. Get this in your skull: there’s nothing you can do. Alright? I know you hate that, but it’s the truth.”

John swallowed thickly. “Yeah. Yeah. Alright.”

So he went home to his tiny flat, stuffed fresh socks and his toothbrush into a backpack, booby-trapped his front door, and fled London in the dead of night, feeling like one of those gits in Boccaccio’s Decameron.

0

“It’s called glamping.”

“Some new wizardy stuff, I’m guessing?”

Chas’s voice over the phone was distracted, like he was half-watching the telly. John was relieved; he’d wanted to hear another human speak but wasn’t feeling up to a proper conversation demanding his usual levels of sparkling charisma and staggering wit. Not right now. Not without weed, and he’d not thought to bring any.

Nestling deeper into his teak folding chair and drawing a thick woven blanket up over his knees, John said, “Nah. Not buggering about with any of that old guff until I’m back in town. Promised myself.”

“Right.”

“Don’t sound so sceptical, you git. I’ve done it before.”

“Mm-hmm. What’s your record? The longest you’ve ever gone without doing anything mystical and creepy?”

“‘Bout… hmm. Three days.”

“You’re coming up on the tail end of that right about now.”

“I know. Chas, on my word, I am going to make it to Sunday without so much as sniffing around a graveyard or wanking off a werewolf. I am on holiday.”

“Alright, alright, if you say so. Good for you, mate. So what’s this ‘glamping’ business, then?”

“It’s camping. But posh. I’m sitting up here atop a hill in Yorkshire with a tent the size of a cathedral and me chic woodburning stove and me box of white wine and feeling like the yuppiest old cunt who ever drew breath.”

“Sounds horrible.”

“It does, doesn’t it? That’s why I chose it over a nice comfy bed and breakfast. Figured I’d wake up with a cow shitting on my head and could use that as an excuse to come home early. Actually, though… it’s alright. Quiet. There’s a river at the bottom of the hill where these giggling honeymooners like to have a morning bonk but it’s far enough away that I can’t hear them unless they’re really having fun. And the weather’s been alright. It’s all surprisingly decent.”

“And you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“Yep.”

“Hmph. I should have come with you. You get all weird and introspective when you’re left alone for more than a couple days.”

“I’m not alone. There’re birds. Squirrels. A few ghosts hanging out by the toilets.”

“John.”

“Ain’t gonna talk to ‘em! Mind you, one did give me a wink when I was zipping up. How’s everything back home?”

“Er – look, I won’t lie, it’s shit. It’s all shit. But it’s not any more shit than it was when you left three days ago. Not any worse, not any better, yeah?”

“Right.”

(Stupid to be disappointed. Stupid that a part of him had secretly believed that as soon as he abandoned the sinking ship that was London, things would miraculously get better for everyone, even as another part of him, on the opposite side of his brain, had been convinced – maybe even hoped – that the moment he was gone, the entire city would descend into screaming anarchy, at which he could point and laugh from a safe distance.)

“Listen, John, I’ve gotta go. Renee needs groceries. Be careful, please?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Don’t fuck about with any occult bollocks. Don’t go foraging for brain-melting mushrooms. Don’t do anything. Just stay in your tent and read your dirty books, yeah?”

“Heard and understood, Mum.”

“Bastard.”

“Love you.”

“Yeah, you too.”

John dropped his phone onto the grass and stared up at the sky. A herd of thin grey clouds drifted past. Off in the distance, he could just make out the shape of a barn – or was it a church? Either way, there were sheep next to it.

A squirrel scurried down a nearby tree trunk and then up another one.

Yawning, he scratched his chin. (Getting scruffy. Hadn’t shaved in two days now.)

“Should prob’ly do some reading,” he mumbled to no one.

A few minutes passed.

He dangled his head back behind his seat and sang quietly: “First produced my pistol… then produced my rapier… said ‘stand and deliver’, for he were a bold deceiver… mush a-ring dum-a do dum-a da…”

Heaving a sigh, he stood up and walked around his tent to dispel pins and needles, then went inside to read his book.

“I am not bored,” he muttered fiercely, staring down at pages that might as well have been blank.

“Oh, but you are, John.”

England’s greatest wizard jumped up, wielding his novel as though it were a club, and dealt a devastating blow to empty air while screaming something along the lines of, “Raargh die die die!”

Then he waited for a moment to see if the voice returned. Tried to determine whether he could sense anything. Nope. Admittedly, that didn’t mean much these days. Lots of beasties and bastards out there had learned how to hide from him.

“Either I’m hallucinating or someone’s pissing me about,” he concluded, placing his hands on his hips. “Chas, mate, I’m sure you would agree that either constitutes a fine reason to leave this fucking tent.”

And leave he did. 

0

He went caving.

The BBC had published an article a couple years back calling the UK’s cave systems its ‘last true wilderness’. He and Chas had had a good long laugh over that, Chas suggesting that John take the caver quoted on an expedition to Faerie or maybe direct him toward any of the two hundred portals to Hell between Plymouth and the Orkney Islands.

But the article had stuck with him. Perhaps it was the obvious love the caver had for his hobby, the clean and simple joy he got out of crawling around in dark, damp holes. John was always drawn to people like that, and not just because it sounded smutty.

(Imagine if he’d loved something clean and simple; gotten into bird-watching or carpentry instead of magic. Would have saved him a lot of hassle.)

Idly, one evening, he’d poked around on the internet – now that, that really was the last true wilderness – until he’d found a map listing all the cave systems in the UK, along with a guide to which were popular, which were dangerous, which were good for a family holiday, and yes (inevitably), which had been the scenes of grisly accidents.

(Wikipedia said that historically there’d been only 136 fatalities ‘associated with recreational caving’ in the UK and that, statistically, it wasn’t a particularly dangerous hobby. Hadn’t stopped him from having vivid dreams about bodies wedged in tiny tunnels miles below ground, cooling and rotting and bloating, except how could they bloat when there simply wasn’t enough room, what happened when…

Anyway, Chas had eventually rescued him from his maudlin musings and dragged him to the pub.)

And while his memory was a messy old thing, especially these days, that just happened to be the sort of useless information that tended to hang around in his head for years, like the words to every song in Sweeney Todd or the rituals required for an exorcism spell that didn’t actually work, doing nothing but taking up space.

There was a cave only a few miles from the campsite.

When he arrived, he beheld a clumsily painted sign nailed to an oak tree next to the entrance:

CLOSED TO THE PUBLIC UNTIL SPRING

NO TRESPASSERS

HAZARDOUS! ENTER AT OWN RISK

He lingered at the cave’s mouth. Though it was big enough for him to stand up in, it made for an unassuming sight. Squirrels played in the old oak with three sets of lovers’ initials carved into it that stood at its left and the pathway leading up to it was strewn with weeds and wildflowers.

“Am I really this stupid?” he pondered aloud, before correcting himself: “Am I really this bored?”

After five minutes’ internal debate, he decided that yes, he was.

He took a step towards the narrow crevice, before stopping himself. No. This was ridiculous. What was he thinking? Shaking his head, he turned and walked away.

Three hours later he was back, now with a good pair of leather boots (stolen from an arsehole in a nearby village), a Power Rangers backpack (given to him by a kid in exchange for a cigarette and some magic tricks), a cheap flashlight, two cans of lager, and a packet of crisps (paid for with the last of his cash).

“Off we go, then,” he said, and marched into the dark. 

0

Like a well-fed leopard on a low-hanging branch, the First of the Fallen lounged across his throne of vertebrae, long black hair dribbling off his broad shoulders and pooling on the ground. Though he was wide awake, his eyes were closed. This, combined with the corpses of three supplicants dangling from nearby steel hooks, would hopefully discourage anyone from bothering him for the next few hours.

“My liege?”

Shit.

He kept still. Said nothing. Perhaps they would go away.

“Um… my liege, I’m terribly, monumentally sorry to disturb you, but…”

With a wave of his claw, the messenger exploded into red mist.

When, ten minutes later, a second messenger summoned up the courage to approach him, he realized that it must be very serious indeed.

“You have five seconds,” he said cordially, holding them up by the neck.

“Con… constantine!” they croaked.

Brightening, the First set them down. “Indeed? What’s the little bastard up to this time, eh?”

“Nothing, my liege. He’s dead.”

A few minutes later, a fourth corpse hung from a hook and the throne of Hell was empty. 

0

To the First of the Fallen, caves were still a novelty.

Confined spaces, in general, were still a novelty.

At 13.6 billion years, he was only slightly younger than the universe. While solid planets had come into existence around the same time, he’d not actually visited one until the emergence of homo sapiens and his subsequent quarrel and falling-out with God – a mere 300,000 years ago.

Cast from Heaven, naked and freezing cold, he’d stumbled into a rocky cranny by the shoreline and wedged himself between its slimy walls. That was his earliest memory of ever being ‘indoors’. No surprise, then, that he avoided such places when he could. He had built no castles in Hell; his throne sat atop a mountain beneath an endless red-gold sky.

But right now, it wasn’t the cave that had his attention, dark and chilly and, yes, slimy as it was.

“Stupid turd,” he grumbled, glowering at the corpse. “Ow!”

He’d bumped his head on the cave ceiling again. It was too low for the average human to stand upright, much less an eight-foot primordial being.

Constantine stared at him, blue eyes blank and glassy. His body was unmarred save for the dent in the left side of his scalp, which had stopped leaking some time ago. As far as the First could tell, his nemesis had simply tripped and fallen onto an unfortunately positioned, unfortunately sharp rock.

The First spat on his tie and snarled, “Pathetic! What the fuck are you even doing here, eh? And – God’s hairy bollocks, when did you last bathe?”

His soul was still dangling off him, like drool from a dog’s mouth. Heaven, obviously, had no interest in him and the First hadn’t yet authorised his admission into Hell.

Because he wasn’t ready, dammit.

He’d not been expecting to welcome John home for at least another thirty years.

“Always have to make it difficult, don’t you?”

When he reached down to take hold of the soul – such a grubby, tattered thing – it bit, blazing gold for a sliver of an instant before he snatched his hand back. Stuck his index finger in his mouth until the sting abated. Fumed.

He tried again, grasping it firmly, as one might a snake. It thrashed. He gave it a disciplinary shake before opening Constantine’s mouth with a claw and forcing it down his gullet.

Coming back to life was never enjoyable. Constantine spasmed and gurgled, legs and arms contorting as pink foam gathered at his lips. The First, bored, sat down beside him, reclining against the cave wall with one knee crooked. Surveyed their surroundings. The ground was – oh dear – littered with crisp crumbs, an empty foil packet, two cans, and dozens of cigarette butts. How foul.

“Disaster in your wake, as ever,” he commented, tutting.

Constantine groaned, eyelashes fluttering.

Belatedly realizing that he wouldn’t be able to see in this subterranean gloom, and very much wanting to afflict him with the identity of his saviour, the First snapped his fingers. A dozen lit candles appeared across the cavern, hovering ghost-like in mid-air.

“Urgh… fffu… whu… oh, Christ Almighty.”

Watching him sit up, the First assumed a lordly expression, tilting his head. “And what do you have to say for yourself?”

Unhealthily pale skin and facial muscles stretched and twisted to an indeterminable end.

Then John Constantine set his jaw.

Growled: “I’m on holiday, you bellend.”

And passed out. 

0

He awoke to the smell of slightly burnt waffles.

Better than burnt flesh, which was what he’d anticipated after His Infernal Bloody Majesty had popped in for a fag and a chat. Certainly better than sulphur.

“For you,” the First of the Fallen purred.

A white plate – averagely-sized but rendered absurdly dainty by the dimensions of the clawed fingers holding it – was set down in front of him.

He frowned at its golden-brown contents. “The catch?”

“No catch. I was peckish. I imagine you are, too.”

“Come on. Not in the mood. Did you piss on ‘em? Did you mix a baby’s blood into the batter?”

“Honestly, John.”

Scratching his chin, he reviewed the facts. Still in the same sodding cave, albeit far better illuminated than the last time he’d been conscious. Alive, but with that unmistakable stiffness that he’d come to associate with having recently been dead. Cold. Irritable.

Hungry.

His archenemy’s smug smile was almost enough to make him spit the first bite back out. Instinct borne from months of extreme poverty forced him to swallow instead.

“Tastes like shit,” he remarked, wiping his lips. “But I suppose you usually have minions to prepare food for you. Where’s the syrup?”

A regal sigh, before a bottle appeared beside the plate. He emptied a third of it and spent the next few minutes in delicious, sticky silence.

There were, as ever, consequences to allowing the First of the Fallen centre stage. The moment the big smelly git realised that John really wasn’t in the mood for banter, he waved a hand and conjured up a thin hardback with Into the Underworld: The Amateur’s Guide to Caving in Britain on the front.

As John rolled his eyes and stuffed another waffle into his mouth, the First cleared his throat and read: “‘According to the National Speleological Society, the minimum number of people required to safely embark on a recreational caving expedition is four – at least one of whom should have prior caving experience.’ Did you know that, John?”

John chewed sullenly.

“I did. I’d wager that most people do. At least, I’d wager that most people know that going caving in groups smaller than two – going caving alone – is wildly inadvisable. Caves are dangerous, John.”

Where were his cigarettes? Had the bastard nicked them?

“And… let’s see – ah! Here we are. ‘There is a great deal of commercial equipment available to a first-time caver, some of which is necessary, some of which is not. Two items, however, that are absolutely non-negotiable are a helmet and a helmet-mounted light.’ Do you have either of those, John?”

“Do I criticise your fucking hobbies?” he exploded, knowing better, knowing it would only encourage him. Sugary crumbs flew everywhere.

“You do, in fact. Often. And quite understandably. My favourite hobby is murdering your friends, after all.”

John threw the plate at his head. 

0 

He’d had a good sense of direction even before he’d learned how to see psychic residue coating streets and walls, left behind by previous travellers. Always scurrying around in places no kid should; subways, sewers, dirty basements, any haunted house his greedy little eye fell upon.

When he’d reached sixteen, burgeoning schizophrenia had muddled him up now and then. Occasionally, it’d even left him standing in streets he didn’t recognise with no earthly idea how he’d got there. PTSD had compounded the problem.

Even so, at fifty plus, he didn’t make a habit of getting lost. Meds, practice, and years of experience meant that he could walk from Chas’s house to Saint Paul’s with a blindfold on.

Long story short: This was embarrassing.

“I’m fairly sure we’re going in circles. That stalactite is very familiar.”

And he certainly wasn’t fucking helping.

(The floating candles, following them like ducklings, were. John’s torch had broken when he’d tripped. Still, he didn’t need the First of the Fallen for light. Could conjure it up himself, no bother. It just made sense to avail himself of a primordial being’s infinite magical resources before dipping into his own, far more limited stockpile.)

“Do you know the way out?” John asked, not breaking his stride.

“I do.”

“Will you tell me where it is?”

“I will not.”

“Then shut up.”

In his defence, John hadn’t thought the cave was big enough to get lost in. It hadn’t looked it from the outside.

But he’d wandered, then crawled, down at least a mile of twisting, increasingly narrow tunnels before getting himself killed. He’d kept meaning to stop; said to himself five times, ‘Okay, Conjob, this is getting stupid, let’s trot our arse back to civilisation’. Then he would notice another crevice wide enough for him to squeeze into.

“Curious place for a holiday,” the First of the Fallen commented after bravely keeping his tongue still for an unprecedented five minutes.

“Curious times we’re living in, innit?”

He hummed in agreement. “Are you really not here for any particular reason? Not – I don’t know – trying to find a missing child abducted by the fae? Searching for a wicked spirit who’s been cursing the local shepherds? Treasure-hunting, perhaps?”

“No.”

“You’re just here.”

“Yep.”

“Why?”

“I told you. I’m on holiday. Taking a nice long break.”

“John. We’ve known one another for some time. I am familiar with the ways in which you ‘take a break’. You either go to the pub or you go to several pubs. Attempting to reconnect with nature is hardly your style.”

“Being oblivious to current events – especially shit ones – is hardly your style. Been too busy shaving your chunky arse to pick up a newspaper lately?”

“Print is dying. Besides, you try managing an entire dimension. See how much spare time it leaves you. Honestly, I’m run off my feet most days.”

“So quit.”

“Don’t be silly. What else would I do?”

“I dunno. Could be a camgirl. You’ve got the legs for it.”

“Stop trying to change the subject. Why aren’t you at home?”

John stopped walking and spun to face him. “There’s a plague, you gormless, oblivious prick. I can’t go to the pub. I can’t meet up with me mates. I can’t visit people’s homes to perform exorcisms. I can’t do anything but sit indoors, on my own, for months on end, just watching everything get worse, and that… and that’s not an option. Not for me. I crack too easy. So I got out. Before I killed someone. Now, for the last time, shut up and let me concentrate.”

He bent down to tug off his shoes and socks.

Telepathic magic tended to work best when you were naked. But sod that. Not with the First of the Fuckheads watching. Waffles or no waffles, he did not deserve a treat.

“Oh, is this what we’re doing now? Marvellous! I do love watching your quaint party tricks,” he oozed with a mocking round of applause as John dropped to his knees.

Ignore him.

Taking a deep breath, John let his awareness expand.

It was hard, with the First standing right there. His presence was staggeringly heavy, weighing on the ley lines like an iron ball on a lace hammock. And so alien; elements found nowhere on Earth, bones and muscles formed before Earth had been a glint in God’s eye.

John sneered into the darkness. Piss on that. On him. This was child’s play. Buggered as his brain might be, John Constantine wasn’t going to falter at the sound, scent, or sensation of a mean-spirited old cosmic relic.

Okay, let’s see what we’ve got.

Seven years ago, three people came this way. A family. A woman; her sister; her daughter. They were having fun. The sisters had done this before; the daughter had been begging to come along for years. Afterwards, they were going for pizza. It was a good day.

Two years ago, four people came this way. All friends from work. Well – ‘friends’. One was the company CEO, the other three wanted promotions. Everyone but the boss was miserable. One was arachnophobic.

Eight months ago, a… sheep? Yeah. A sheep. Barely more than a lamb. It was lost. There was a storm and it came down here looking for shelter. Went too deep. By the time the shepherd found it, it was half-starved.

“John? What are you-…”

Ignore him.

Ten years ago, another family. Fifty years ago, a frightened child running from a monstrous father. And others – a hundred others – a thousand. The cave had a rich and storied history. Almost against his will and entirely against his better judgement, John followed its threads through the rock layers, chasing faded ghosts, brushing up against magic so ancient it had fossilised.

“John!”

Ignore him. Ignore him. Ignore-

His head was ringing. His blood was on fire.

Fuck, I’ve gone too far, too bloody deep, fuck, oh fuck.

“Constantine! Heed me!”

His eyes snapped open.

“Ah,” he said.

“Precisely,” said the First of the Fallen, who was holding him up by his coat collar like a jizz rag in need of a bin.

The cave had changed.

It was brighter, thanks to a small, well-constructed fire in its centre.

The walls were covered in paintings. Deer. Hogs. Great red and brown bulls.

A woman sat in the corner, wrapped in furs, adding detail to what might have been a fox. She didn’t seem to have noticed them.

“Did you mean to do that?” the First of the Fallen queried. 

0

“In thirty thousand years, a monk will come down here and find them. He’ll be horrified, believing that they’re the work of… well, me. So he’ll leave and return with water in buckets and scrubbing brushes. As he lies on his deathbed, he will be firmly under the impression that this great good deed will grant him entrance into Paradise.”

The First of the Fallen paused for effect, then added, “Alas, he will be mistaken.”

Without looking away from her work, the woman spoke several words in a language miles removed from any contemporary tongue John had ever heard.

“The young lady says she doesn’t mind spirits wandering her caves, but requests that we don’t chatter while she’s trying to concentrate.”

Crouching next to freshly-etched cow and her calf, feeling uncharacteristically dazzled, John said, “Ask her if I can take a picture. Ask her!”

“Homo neanderthalensis, John. She won’t have the faintest idea what you mean.”

Rolling his eyes, he fished his phone out of his trenchcoat pocket and waved it at her. When she deliberately ignored him, he shrugged and took the shot.

The flash won her attention. She stood – revealing a faded seashell necklace and a long, curving scar across her left thigh – and approached them, limping slightly. John held out the phone to show her the picture and, after a resoundingly unimpressed inspection, she uttered a terse sentence.

“She’s unsure why the sickly-looking spirit thinks shrinking her beasts in any way improves them,” said the First of the Fallen.

The woman raised her head (hard to tell how old she was; younger than him, definitely) and looked John in the eye, squinting. Another few sentences followed, some of which sounded like questions.

Sarcastic questions, unless he was mistaken.

“She asks if you shrink them because large beasts frighten you. She speculates that, if the only beasts you can bear to approach are scrawny ones, it’s no wonder that you yourself are such a measly creature. She says that she too was scared of bulls when she was a child, but that her mother taught her not to be. She wonders why your mother failed you in this regard. Should I tell her your mother died in childbirth, John?”

“Stick your head up your own arse and choke. But ask her name first.”

Tossing back his thick black hair, he scoffed. “Why? What does it matter? She’s a primitive, doomed creature and she’s not even really here. This is just one of the cave’s memories.”

“Christ – are you jealous I’m talking to her more than I’m talking to you? Because that’s fucking inane. This is a one-in-a-lifetime type deal. I’ve never spoken to a legit bloody Neanderthal. I speak to you all the blasted time, more’s the pity.”

Yellow eyes narrowed. “Maybe I’ll kill her.”

John laughed. “You said it, squire; she’s a memory. You can’t kill her. She’s long dead. Now shut up.”

He wasn’t able to learn her name. Still, via pantomime and pointing, he eventually managed to convey his desire to find a way out of the cave – or so, at least, it seemed.

She took a bundle of sticks from beside her fire, lit them, and walked towards the nearest inky-black tunnel.

“See?” he said to the First of the Fallen as they followed her. “Politeness. All it takes.”

“Don’t act like you have any real idea what’s going on. She could be leading you straight into a trap. You’re aware, I’m sure, that archaeologists generally agree Neanderthals practised cannibalism? Ten muscular relatives might be waiting right around the corner with clubs and a cooking pot.”

“For fuck’s sake – I have literally stood and watched you slouching on that colossally pathetic bone throne of yours and nibbling the edge of someone’s pelvis like it was a turkey drumstick. Loathsome bloody hypocrite.”

“That doesn’t remotely count as cannibalism, John. That was a human pelvis. I’m not a human. I’m the prototype. A species of one. Which, I suppose, means it’s technically impossible for me to commit cannibalism. Hmm. What an interesting philosophical notion.”

Walking a short way ahead, bare feet soundless against the rock, their new self-appointed guide said something.

“What was that?” John whispered.

“‘If you must burden my ears by bickering like children, you could at least do it in a language I can understand’. Then she called us a rude word.”

Then the First of the Fallen spoke several sentences in his usual bored, drawling cadence and, to John’s surprise, she laughed.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” the First of the Fallen said, innocently.

“I’m serious, bastard. What’re you saying to her?”

“Nothing important, John, really.”

More than once after that, he caught her glancing back at them and snickering. 

0

The artist and the twisting stone galleries through which she led them – it couldn’t possibly have all been hers; the monk had destroyed the work of generations – were insufficient to keep John’s mind from straying back to important matters.

“Hey. Ponce. What’ve you done with my cigarettes?”

The First of the Fallen had plucked them from his trenchcoat pocket while he was unconscious. When it came to his sorcerer, he’d learned, you always wanted a bargaining chip to hand.

“We’re in the company of one whose lungs are as yet unsullied by the Industrial Revolution, Constantine. Are you really planning on exposing her to second-hand smoke?”

It was a prospect John, it seemed, hadn’t even considered. Obviously angry with himself for that (oh John), he snapped, “No! I was – it’s – look, she can’t get lung cancer, can she? She’s dead. Doesn’t matter what she breathes in now.”

Smothering a smile, the First of the Fallen said, “Oh? So the fact that she won’t actually perish upon inhaling your fumes is all that matters, is it? Never mind her comfort or dignity, I suppose; as long as you don’t have to clean up another corpse.”

Nostrils flared. Fists clenched. Blue eyes gleamed with something hotter and even more violent than divine wrath.

“Like you give a shit about her,” John growled.

So much in this miserable world reminds me of Heaven. The grass. The sky. The beauty. You alone remind me of the time before Heaven; that bizarre, unpredictable time when there were no rules, no beauty, only feelings, only sudden bursts of light, fierce and erratic, cutting through the void.

“Or anyone,” John continued, gathering steam. Nicotine withdrawal, the First of the Fallen suspected, was kicking in. “Remind me, what was that you said the day we met? ‘To be mortal is to be stupid, proud, conceited – and ultimately pathetic’. You showed your hand, idiot; you loathe us all. Ergo, any taunts that depend on you concealing that are a total bust. Forget about the ciggies. If they’ve been anywhere near you, I don’t want ‘em.”

For years, the First of the Fallen had secretly hoped John had forgotten his, in hindsight, ill-considered words.

(He’d meant every one of them, but at the time he’d been trying to come off as a Gentleman Devil, the quintessential Man of Wealth and Taste, affable and urbane, not a bitter, angry old monster.)

Should have known better. John was so foolishly protective when it came to humanity as an abstract concept, even while his attitude towards actual humans tended to be far more variable. He’d probably been furiously gnawing on that phrase – ‘ultimately pathetic’ – like a dog with a bone for thirty years.

Thirty years.

Was that really all the time they’d known one another? John Constantine, his Constantine, He Who Was Most Hated… a mere thirty year acquaintance?

“What’re you laughing at?”

“Heh. Nothing, John. Reminiscing, that’s all.”

“About what? Poor old Brendan?”

Brendan, Brendan. Who -? Oh yes. John’s friend. The one who’d sold his soul. The catalyst, in fact, for their meeting. Pity the bastard was in Heaven; he’d have liked to thank him.

“You see these?” said the artist, holding up her torch to illuminate a painted wolf pack. “My grandfather did these.”

“What’s she saying?” John demanded.

As the First of the Fallen translated, he gazed dispassionately at her.

The first time he’d encountered a human, they’d looked much the same. Small. Unremarkable. Clad in skins and hardened from a life exposed to this planet’s weather (he personally hated weather and had made sure there was no such thing in Hell).

Mind you, the ones he’d run into while naked and terrified and still injured from being swatted down to Earth like some insect had been much less hospitable. They hadn’t known what he was; only that he was wrong. When he’d tried to approach their campfire, they’d thrown stones at him. Slaying them all hadn’t even occurred to him. Father had said that they were precious and at that stage, he’d still given a toss about His rules. Instead, he’d slunk away.

Catching food wasn’t a problem. He was faster than any buck or bird. It was loneliness, not hunger, that drove him to try again, and again, and again. In time, they grew used to him. Even showed him kindness. They had an extraordinary capacity for that. (For all that it was so often conditional and withdrawn the moment one became too strange or too frightening.)

But he’d never grown used to them. They were, at heart, creatures of community. And he simply wasn’t. He was a species of one. The prototype. He’d always been alone but for God’s company, and adjusting to life as a member of a tribe had proved impossible. Their norms, their traditions, their complicated etiquette – it had all bewildered him, then intimidated him, then irritated him. That, combined with his ageless body and supernatural strength, had driven an inevitable wedge between them, and he’d returned to the wilderness to wander alone.

He considered telling John that story.

(Why not? He’d told him everything else and the idea that his nemesis might have an incomplete view of him was, for some reason, concerning.)

Then he considered John’s likely reaction. The curled lip. The scornful snort. “What, you looking for pity? ‘Boo-hoo, my rotten childhood turned me into a git’? Hah! Jog on, squire.”

No. John’s hatred was a hard-won prize. John’s contempt was to be avoided at all costs.

“You realise most people aren’t allowed down here,” the artist said, glancing his way. She was shorter than John, who himself was slightly shorter than the average man; her eyes were level with the First’s navel. “Only elders and those who’ve earned the right. There are grave penalties awaiting any who sneak in.”

“Really?” he replied, interested only in John’s furrowed brow and silent, aggravated attempts to work out what they were saying.

“Yes. Because this place is important. Sacred. When I was young, I spent years dreaming of being allowed to venture this deep. I don’t know the ways of spirits – but I’ll not pretend it doesn’t rankle that you spend more time studying your sickly friend than your surroundings.”

“You’re still young. Compared to me, everyone is.”

“He doesn’t even seem to like you very much. Why are you travelling with him?”

“I don’t know. Why do urine and semen come out the same hole?”

“‘It’s none of your business’ would have sufficed. Are you always this rude? Is that why the sickly one doesn’t like you?”  

“No. No, he dislikes me for other reasons.”

“Well, well, well. Hullo,” came John’s voice, and they both realised that he’d stopped walking.

Turning, the First of the Fallen spied his nemesis standing with his hands in his pockets, studying a man dressed like a thirteenth-century peasant.

“Eh? Where did he come from?” the woman asked.

In quavering tones, the peasant said, “Are you angels?”

The First of the Fallen laughed. “John! He’s asking if-…”

“Just because I can’t speak Neanderthal doesn’t mean I don’t know sodding Middle English. Give me an ounce of credit. I’m only a cocking wizard, after all,” John snapped, before addressing the new arrival: “No. Just travellers.”

The peasant’s shoulders slumped. “Oh. I thought maybe God had sent me angels. I’ve been requesting them for several days.”

John shuddered. “Bad idea. Trust me. You don’t want to mess around with that lot.”

“But I need guidance. Protection.”

“From what?”

Eyes wide, the peasant took his hand and clutched it. “My friend, can’t you see? I am being pursued.”

“By who?”

“By demons.”

(to be continued) 

[jasonsgrayson]

Jasonsgrayson’s Guide To All Things Spideytorch

Hi guys, I know I do rec lists sometimes, and I wanted to do one for Spideytorch since I just got into it and a lot of the fics on AO3 are really great. Theres a ton of fics here, of all shapes and sizes and ratings, and in no particular order as always, so take your pick.

Above the cut are my all time favorite spideytorch fics, below the cut are a mess of totally awesome fics that you guys should really take a look at. 

If you want to save some time just look at any of Traincat’s and lamujerarana’s spideytorch stuff. They’re amazing. 

Kind, Sober, and Fully Dressed by Traincat Rated M - 8,685 words Is this my favorite spideytorch fic of all time? Yes. Is it one of my favorite fanfics of all time in general? Also yes. Are the Johnny Storm sex tape related events of this fic cannon? Yes they absolutely fucking are. Read it, I beg of you.

"Pete, my man, my completely platonic best bro," he muttered to himself in the voice he reserved solely for mocking Johnny Storm. "Come over and watch my maybe sex tape! Fun times! Just two guys hanging out -" he slammed the bathroom door maybe a little harder than necessary "- watching the one guy's celebrity sex tape! Good clean fun!" Mrs. Moretti downstairs banged on her ceiling with a broom. Everything was coming up Parker tonight. -- Or, in which Peter proves himself tragically unable to take a hint. Post-Amazing Spider-Man Digital #17, aka the time Johnny asked Peter to watch his sex tape.

Lost and Found by Traincat Rated E - 8,154 words Is it another fake relationship fic? Yes. Is it my second favorite spideytorch fic? Also yes.

“A field trip?” Peter said. “Just a little family outing,” Sue said, passing him a knife. He took it and obediently started helping her cut the crusts off a small mountain of sandwiches. “We thought you might like to join us.” “I mean, it sounds great,” Peter said. “But work is a little swamped and somehow whenever I take off with you guys I always manage to go missing for two months. My landlady does not love it.” “We really could use the extra set of hands. Also,” Sue said, “someone needs to keep an eye on Johnny.” Peter groaned. -- Peter's spider-sense starts acting up on a Future Foundation field trip. He and Johnny, recently returned from the Negative Zone, have to pretend to be married. These two things are related.

Work Song by Traincat Rated E - 50,953 words I will never get tired of this one, I’ve read it so many times it’s one of my absolute favorites. Basically Peter is Johnny’s sugar daddy.

Peter Parker has his company, more money than he knows what to do with, and the echoes of a ghost in his head. Johnny Storm's lost his family, his home, and is clinging to the remnants of his old life. -- "I’m here with you. That’s not nothing, right?” “No,” Peter agreed. It definitely felt like something, all the way up here with Johnny so close they were almost touching. Peter looked at him, at the full lips set in a slight frown, the sharp curve of his jaw, the way his hair fell across his forehead. He fit all the dazzling lights around them, warm like sunshine even in the middle of the night. “Beautiful,” Peter said before he could stop himself.

River Eyes by perissologist Rated M - 22,749 words I love it because Noir is my shit, especially when it’s done this freaking well.

If Jonathan Storm was the movie star Betty said he was, he looked the part: Hair like spun gold in perfect curls atop slender features, with eyes bluer than the Hudson in midsummer. “Normally I’d ask what a dame like you is doing in a place like this, but”—Peter cast a glance up his guest—“you’re not exactly a dame, are you?” Storm flashed a weak smile. “I can be, if you want.” Peter raised an eyebrow. Storm turned beet-red. “I mean. I’m. I didn’t mean that.” Storm huffed and shoved out a hand. “Johnny Storm.” --- It's 1933, Peter Parker has just shut down a Nazi eugenist and lost one of his oldest friends, and life in the big city is as joyless and hardscrabble as ever. Then Johnny Storm, movie star with a soul made of sunshine, walks through Peter's door, asking for his help. The rest, as they say, is history.

Eight Arms to Hold You by metaphoracle Rated T - 15,071 words I love it because it has Namor the Sub Mariner and fake relationships and Atlantis, and a really lecherous octopus, and really what’s not to like?

When Spider-Man’s best friend Johnny Storm asks him for help in tactfully declining a marriage proposal from the King of Atlantis, Namor the Sub-Mariner, the only solution is for him to volunteer Daily Bugle photographer Peter Parker to pretend to be dating Johnny at the Engagement Banquet in Atlantis. Sure, it’s technically lying to his best friend about who Peter Parker is, but the important thing is that Johnny won’t have to marry Namor, and if Peter gets some photographs of Atlantis to sell, what’s the harm? Peter thought the most difficult thing about this scenario was going to be making sure Johnny didn’t figure out Peter is actually Spider-Man. Having to pretend he wasn’t actually falling in love with his best friend never crossed his mind. Featuring fake relationships, forced (almost) marriages, identity porn, traditional Atlantean clothing, and amorous cephalopods.

Keep Throwing Things and Slamming the Door by Traincat Rated T - 7,817 words I think I’ve read this one a half a dozen times already, it’s so good/funny. She-Hulk’s in it, and she is fabulous.

Waking up in a stranger's bed is not how superhero Johnny Storm planned on spending the morning after the night before. From now on… A) No more secret hookups with Peter Parker—he's the last man on earth Johnny'd want to share a room with, never mind a king-size bed. B) Maintain a professional persona at all times. After all, he's a photographer for New York's #1 Superhero Bashing Rag and Johnny's perfect tabloid fodder. C) Keep friends close but enemies closer. Easier said than done, with She-Hulk away on her honeymoon and Spider-Man avoiding him.

The Boy From New York City by Traincat Rated E - 84,499 words I really love this one. Of all the fics on this list I would say this is a spideytorch must read, a true classic.

Central City, California is beautiful, but it’s not where Johnny wants to be – and he’s not who he wants to be, either. Inspired by the recent return of Spider-Man, Johnny convinces the newly minted Fantastic Four to return to the Baxter Building, the site of the incident that gave them their powers. But not everything is what it seems, and worse yet, Spider-Man wants nothing to do with the Human Torch. In the wake of Gwen’s death, Peter has finally put the mask back on, but nothing’s the same as it once was, and the thrill has gone out of Spider-Man. The Fantastic Four’s arrival only makes everything worse. The Human Torch is good looking, he’ll give him that much, but Peter has no plans of making friends. A series of strange attacks and a fateful encounter on the docks may not leave him much choice.

‘cause I can’t compete with your boyfriend (he’s got 27 tattoos) by Traincat Rated T - 13,495 words Who doesn’t love a high school au? I know I do. 

The thing was, Peter was stuck with Johnny forever, basically. The super glue of unintentional friendship. It was cosmic, fated, and incredibly annoying. Johnny Storm might have been a handbasket of bad decisions and personality defects wrapped up with an incredible smile, but he was Peter’s handbasket of bad decisions -- of which Daken was still the worst one Johnny had ever made, and Johnny had made some truly bad decisions. -- Johnny dates Daken, Peter has a crisis, and everything works out okay in the end.

All That We Were by paramountie Rated G - 10,298 words Here’s a super cute stuck in an alternate universe kid fic, if that’s your thing (It sure as hell is mine).

“What do you think the deal is anyway?” Peter asks. “My money’s on dreamscape.” “Twenty bucks says it’s an alternate universe.” “Nuh-uh, pal. It’s a dream for sure. Or a nightmare.”

The Spider Prince and the Morning Star by Traincat Rated M - 24,337 words Every ship needs a great fairytale fic, and this is a phenomenal fairytale fic. It’s sort of a Beauty and the Beast/Eros and Psyche tale and I loved it so much.

“Folks like to say there’s a monster that lives in the forest,” Old Swenson said the next day when Johnny told him his story. Johnny worked in his shop, when Swenson could afford to pay him. He fixed things, clocks and broken carriages. Johnny wasn’t good for much, but he had a hand for repairs. “And that it’ll grant you wishes, for a price. Folks will say anything, after a drink or five. Don’t listen to that kind of foolish talk, Johnny.” When Johnny makes a deal with the monster that lives in the woods – himself for his sister’s happiness – he doesn’t expect the giant spider to take him to a beautiful castle, or to reveal himself a cursed prince. There’s only one catch: he’s only a man in the darkest night, and Johnny can never see his face.

Better in Picture by weekend_conspiracy_theorist Rated T - 12,218 words I love this one, it’s freaking hilarious. It really uses Matt, Foggy, and Peter to their full comedic potential.

In which Peter Parker has no interest in sleeping with Matt Murdock, no matter what anyone seems to think.

you keep me hanging on by lamujerarana Rated E - 19,031 words Here’s a great friends with benefits to lovers fic, because there must always be at least one.

Johnny, reeling from his breakup with Medusa and the loss of his entire family, turns to Peter for comfort...that eventually involves casual sex that isn't so casual for Johnny, since he just so happens to be in love with Peter. Everything becomes incredibly complicated. This story takes place between the events of Inhumans vs X-Men #6 and Uncanny Avengers v3 #20.

Always Glad You Came by aloneintherain Rated T - 13,290 words Mistaken Identity or boys being dumb, take your pick.

Spider-Man is a relatively new, controversial vigilante, and Johnny has a crush the size of the Empire Building. The Four - operating under the assumption that Spidey is an adult - do not approve. “I just happen to think Spider-Man's cool,” Johnny says, matter-of-factly. “A hero can think another hero is cool without making it weird. I admire his aloofness. And his badass-ness.” “His aloofness,” Ben repeats, chuckling into his mug of beer. It’s roughly the size of Johnny’s head. “Yeah, sure, I bet that’s all your admire, right?”

When Peter Met Johnny by Measured Rated T - 14,437 words A paparazzi fic!

Peter takes up additional paparazzi work to pay the bills, which inevitably leads to an angry flaming man, a broken camera, an accidental friendship and a whole lot more than he bargained for.

Tied to the Wait and Sees by Mizzy Rated T - 14,283 words This is hilarious, poor Johnny’s trying his best. 

Johnny Storm's in love. With Spider-man. Except no one seems to even believe Johnny when he tells them. Everyone thinks he's totally joking. What a buzzkill. Even his bff doesn't react supportively, which is rude, disrespectful, and completely awkward when Johnny walks into a time anomaly and wakes up in the future married not to his beloved Spider-man, but to Peter Parker. Huh, no wonder Parker reacted so badly to the news.

Say You Will, Say You Won’t by Traincat Rated T - 15,563 words Peter in this one is hilarious, it’s perfect characterization.

Johnny Storm found him on a Friday afternoon, wearing the kind of beseeching look that filled Peter with dread. “I need to ask you a favor,” he said. “No,” Peter said, swinging away. -- Peter and Johnny get married, really-not-really.

Tales From The Black Pages by Traincat Rated T - 19,019 words A soulmate words fic, because, again, there must always be at least one. And it’s a really great one, too. 

Peter Parker was born with his words. Johnny Storm's been sure his will be said sarcastically since he was a child. Everything else more or less happens according to plan. A first words soulmate AU.

Weaving Spiders Come Not Here by Mizzy Rated T - 13,809 words Mistaken identity or boys being dumb, I think I can guess which one it is. 

People are treating Peter oddly. Really oddly. It turns out they're being nice to him because they think his boyfriend cheated on him. …with Spider-Man. It's honestly quite tiring pretending to be jealous of yourself.

Peter Parker’s Guide to Secret Identities by coocoocachu Rated T - 93,789 words Johnny is a teen heartthrob, enough said. 

“Oh wow, it’s the Human Torch, Johnny Storm.” MJ whispered to Peter. Peter just hummed back. Maybe it was a little childish to be upset but he totally had that thing with the weird mutant moth under control last night. Peter leaned against the wall while MJ milled around talking to people trying to figure out what the big scoop was here. ‘There always has to be a reason for an exclusive, Peter!’ she had said. Yeah, Peter thought, and the reason is Johnny Storm loves the attention. Peter fiddled with his camera. Action shots were more his thing, particularly somehow managing to take action selfies of himself as Spider-Man or a few of his supercharged enemies. Pictures of egotistical superhero’s shirtless? Not really his area.

stranger danger by I_mNotYourEnemy Rated T - 10,600 words Mistaken identity or boys being dumb 3: Grindr Identity

pete is this a bad time to ask who this is?? Hothead Is this not Grindr Peter? pete nope Hothead Ahhh fuck Sorry for the unsolicited dick pic pete that’s alright, ive seen worse -- In which Johnny gets a username wrong, Peter gets a dick pic, and MJ gets a headache just thinking about the situation.

Turn Me On, Turn Me Off by blue_jack Rated E - 5,158 words Honestly the summary speaks for itself here.

“I have. A vibrator. Stuck. In my ass,” Johnny said, enunciating clearly and concisely while staring him straight in the eyes, and Peter didn’t know who was blushing harder, but he was sure they were in a race to see who could match the color of his mask first.

Flip a Coin - Choose Both Sides by the_overlord Rated T - 10,993 words Johnny is president of the Spider-Man fanclub. Just- that’s it. 

Wherein Johnny Storm gets given a wrong number and ends up the President of Spiderman's fanclub. Things get a little more complicated from there.

Tanglewood Tree by amaronith Rated E - 6,901 words Another fuckbuddies to lovers au.

but love is a light in the sky, and an unspoken lie, and a half whispered prayer Or: what happens when Johnny becomes fuck buddies with the guy he's been in love with for years.

let the choir bell sing by gottalovev Rated E - 16,457 words Another fake relationship, this one set abroad in Venice.

Johnny and Spider-Man are on assignment at the Carnival of Venice, and asked to be present at an influential politician's costumed party. When he becomes worried that said politician wants to match him up with his daughter, Johnny announces he's secretly married to Spider-Man. They can totally fake being secret husbands for a few days! Not a problem, not even when they have to share a bed. After all, they are good buddies; it's not as if Johnny would have to sleep with someone he has a crush on, like Peter Parker.

Stay With Me - by oneshinyapple Rated E - 2 works - 29,958 words total This is a great verse which is also part of the Like Gravity verse, which I haven’t read all the installments of. 

Movie nights, fighting alien dinosaurs, and falling in love with your best friend — one of these may be a worse idea than the others.

A Melody That’s Calling Your Name by gleesquid Rated T - 32,731 words Another great high school au.

When a boy gets trapped in the Baxter Building fire, Peter must make a quick choice: let the boy die terrified in the flames or gain his trust by showing him what's underneath his mask. In the end, it's no choice at all. But when that same boy shows up on the first day of senior year, Peter finds himself caught in a spiraling lie. The next thing he knows, he's got a boyfriend, he's starring in a musical, he's going to rich kids' costume parties, and he's realizing that maybe there are worse things than having someone know your biggest secret. You'd think high school couldn't get any weirder than a radioactive spider bite, but that's just the Parker Luck.

hang a shining star upon the highest bough by lamujerarana Rated E - 15,386 words A lovely little Christmas fic for that time of year

The first time Johnny and Peter meet up at the Statue of Liberty on Christmas morning, Johnny's kind, thoughtful, and supportive to Peter at a time when Peter, still mourning the loss of Gwen Stacy, really needs it. Peter doesn't know how he'll ever pay him back for that, but he's sure going to try. Or, Peter tries his best, throughout various Christmases, to be there for Johnny when he needs it.

take my medicine, treat you like adrenaline by gleesquid Rated E - 2,763 words The one and only Spiderverse fic on this list, for when you’re in that Peter B. Parker mood.

“Every time I even think about dating again, it’s like, ‘oh, there’s MJ’s nose,’ or ‘hey, she has MJ’s eyes.’ I don’t know how to not see her in everyone. I don’t know if I want to.” “You ever figured you’re maybe barking up the wrong tree?” Peter furrowed his brow. “Explain.” “Well, ya know.” Harry sipped his martini. “There’s a larger dating pool out there than you’d think. With people who will not remind you of MJ.” Or: After the divorce, Peter tries for a rebound.

Save a Horse-Adjacent Alien by Traincat Rated E - 3,915 words Poor Johnny made a terrible actor. 

He was minding his own business, sitting in a movie theater in Queens, snacking on popcorn and wondering how many times he could make fun of Johnny Storm’s hair before Aunt May asked why he was so fixated, when the trailers ended, the lights went out, and Johnny appeared on the screen. Peter’s mouth went dry, and it wasn't because of the popcorn. Maybe it was the distance the movie gave him, Johnny up on a screen instead of right in front of him, warm and bright and frighteningly human. Maybe it was how endearingly terrible of an actor he was. Maybe it was the lighting. It was, Peter thought, probably the cowboy boots.

Bring That Summer by pommenade Rated T - 15,070 words Ahh social media, get’s you every time.

Juggling the duties of Spider-Man as well as his life as CEO of Parker Industries was easy. Peter Parker had years of practice. Add in a clandestine relationship with Johnny Storm and things got a bit more complicated. Add in Johnny's Instagram account, and suddenly Peter's life is impossible.

Educational Purposes by Traincat Rated E - 5,510 words A sexy little married fic

“I just,” Johnny said, flicking his gaze up at Peter through his eyelashes. He pressed the pen to his bottom lip and lowered his voice, pornographic. “I really need to pass your class, Professor Parker.” Peter snorted. “Cute, Johnny.” “Please, Professor Parker?” Johnny continued, and suddenly Peter realized that he wasn’t just joking around. “Isn’t there anything I could do to improve my grade? Anything at all?”

[i-just-tardis-blue-myself]

Hello, anon!!

I’m guessing you’re asking me this because of the post I made regarding ff the other night. The truth is, I didn’t get to read many whouffaldi fics in ff and I haven’t read a whole lot whouffaldi fics since then. I always circle back to the same authors and stories, because when I tried to read new stuff after it didn’t affect me the way they did back in the day.

So the four authors I mentioned in my early post are the ones I would recommend you to check out. They were, I dare say, the hottest whouffle writers at the time. They all started by publishing Eleven/Clara (good old souffez)  and Other Doctors/Clara fics, so if you ship “whouffle” and not only “whouffaldi” you’ll find a gold mine worth of fiction. They all ended up writing Twelve/Clara stories, but not as many with the exception of maybe C1araosw1ad who posted her last whouffaldi fic in 2019.

So that being said, here are my recomendations:

Frombluetored

Heartlines (rated T)

An unknown threat sucks the Doctor and Clara into a parallel universe and leaves them stranded. While biding their time, they encounter the Clara of that universe and her achingly familiar husband.

This story has an especial place in my heart because Heartlines takes place in the same universe of  “Of adoration and chaos” an Eleven/Clara fic written by the same author. I’d say “Of adoration” is one of the best souffez fics out there and you don’t need to read it to understand Heartines, but you’ll be missing a great piece of fiction.  

Everest (rated T)

AU. The Doctor, recently promoted to CEO after the early passing of John Smith, enters his new job with short-lived surety. And then he meets the COO, Clara Oswald, who's just as determined to show the Doctor who's really in charge as she is to show him he'll never live up to his predecessor. Unfortunately for them, control doesn't exist in matters of the heart.

This one contains heavy subjects, so if you aren’t comfortable with high rates of smut and unhealthy coping mechanism this story isn’t for you. This fic wasn’t an easy ride, but it was worth the effort.

Banged up ( rated M)

There were many things Clara Oswald expected when she entered prison. Catching the eye of the prison's most notorious inmate was not one of them.

I remember this fic being really, really sexy, but also sad and angsty af. It is also unfinished and you might want to avoid that level of masochism, but hey, where is the fun in that?

Paper machine (rated K+)

Clara Oswald's timeless relationship with the Doctor, as seen through the eyes of her smitten student.

This fic is so precious and adorable. I love it to pieces. It contains a bit of 11/clara too, like most of frombluetored  fics.

E1evenc1ara

In another life (rated M)

A collection of AU one-shots featuring Clara and the the Doctor (Ten, Eleven, and/or Twelve). These are all written in response to prompts supplied by my tumblr users, which will be displayed at the top of each story.

Listen, the second story broke me in million little pieces. I’ll never over that pain. Totally worth it tho.

Again, If you dig Eleven/Clara, I would recomend you to check out The IT guy and its sequel Postcards from New York  by the author.

Dreamcatcher (rated T)

This is supposed to be a doctor x clara but I couldn’t picture any other Doctor than Twelve. I’ll die on this hill.

Happy Endings (rated M)

The Doctor and Clara attend a Royal Wedding in the thirty-first century where they have a bit too much to drink.

They get drunk, they bang, the Doctor is a wrecked mess after, but everything turns all right. Pure bliss, my dudes.

D Veleniet

Hold onto me (rated K+)  

Clara stood frozen, reeling from too many emotions to even name. All she could do was stare. "Doctor?" She approached him slowly, carefully. "What's happened to you?" She swallowed against the grief that threatened to cloud her voice. "Why are you acting like this?"

The author wrote this fic in 2013, before series 8 aired and reader, the way she was on absolute point with Twelve’s characterization. I mean, Twelve being a grumpy old Scottish lil shit pointing out Clara’s physical “flaws” to deflect from the fact that he’s absolutely in love with her check. Twelve being a huge ass softie for Clara check. My heart being compromised by their dynamic and how much they love each other CHECK (also I’m so greatful Twelve never called Clara “wee” in the show, I would have slapped him)

Untouchable (rated M)

Clara stopped missing the touches, stopped smarting from his flinches when they would accidentally brush up against each other or bump arms. She stopped wondering what had changed so much inside him that had made her physically repulsive to him now. Then one night she agreed to a set-up on a blind date.

This is a sexy sequel for Hold onto me in which everything hurts, but also everything is very hot. So yeah, yeah.

This author wrote, problably the most famous eleven/clara fic back in the day : The other has my heart and its sequel More than you know They were litsed in every fic rec and rightly so.

C1araoswa1d

The Tethers Between Hearts (rated k+)

On a quiet little planet, the Doctor shares something very important with Clara.

If I could cover myself with this achingly soft piece of writing, I would. Because I can’t, I do the second best thing which is rereading it over and over, until I feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

Waking Dreams (rated T)

(Doctor Who AU) Life is complicated enough for Clara after an accident puts her young daughter in a coma, but through her only means of communication with the girl - an in-dream interface system - she's meets an odd company representative who promises to help her along, quite possibly in more ways than she could ever imagine.

Welcome to Angstown, populatiom : THIS FIC

A Mirage in Time  (rated M )

After Clara, the Doctor seeks out an Echo to help him move on… and finds himself just as perplexed by her and possibly just as in love.

I love C1araoswa1d’s writing so much, specially the way she depicts Clara. IDK man, part of my undying love for the character comes from the way she characterizes Clara in her stories. So yeah, please go and read all her fics. They are amazing, specialy How to fall in love with a time traveller and A path out of the dark

Bonus track, my dudes.

Anon, I know you asked me for my favorite ff.net whouffaldi fics, but I cannot left twelveclara out of this list. Her fics are iconic and you have probably read them, but fuck it.

History, like love

There are planets orbiting her eyes and her mouth tastes like the ocean; in her head she hears a shatter, like her soul has pried her ribs apart in a desperate, aching attempt to reach his. “If I could have picked anybody,” he murmurs, “it would have been you.”

My favorite soulmate au ever written in any fandom. periodt

But we’re so happy

from the outside looking in; so, maybe river’s right. people always stare at what they can’t touch.

punk rock au. Perfection in all its unfinished magnificence.

[vintagedolan]

tell us about the boy I wanna know if I should go beat him up or not (if you want to, no pressure bby!)

hahaha okay listen I will give yall the full story buckle up its amazing and then its sad :) (this could literally be a fic it turned out so long holy shit)

so I worked at a summer camp last summer in austin texas (i’m from kentucky). which meant I moved into a lodge in the middle of the city with 25+ other young adults my age. I didn’t know anyone, had never even been to texas. but I start making friends, as I do. 

one night I get back from dinner and these two boys are taking sporcle quizzes (sporcle is a website with specialized quizzes and shit). I decided to go over and help cause they didn’t know some of the answers, and we end up stayed up all night doing quizzes. 

a few days from then, one of them (we’ll call him virginia boy) is like “hey, I had no idea you were that smart. do you wanna do more quizzes a shit sometime?” (nerdy as fuck, I know). so then we start doing logic puzzles, like every night, tucked away somewhere in the lodge where no one will bother us. then, we started playing cards, spades specifically, which requires a partner. we swore we were forever partners (never broke it, never teamed up with anyone other than him for the whole 3 months). 

then he found out I’m decent at basketball, so I became the 8th player in the all boys four on four games, which meant we spent even more time together. we went outside every off day we had and shot around for hours. he didn’t have a car since he flew in from virginia, so at first he started just borrowing mine. but then we started doing shit together, like going to the grocery store or lunch. then we started going on adventures. hikes, museums, art galleries. got up early in the morning to spend the whole day together. and while we were working at camp we were always hanging out too. true best friends. 

I had to go back home for a friends wedding for a few days, and he was texting me while I was gone, joking around saying he didn’t know what to do without me there, that he was having separation anxiety. when I got back he tackled me in the parking lot, told me I was never allowed to leave again

one day he convinced me that we should drive out to big bend national park. I expected him to suggest other people going with us, but he wanted it to be just us. so cue us, packing up the bare minimum and going on a 8 hour road trip. we got to the park at 1am, ran around the parking lot yelling about how bright the stars were.  

we tried to sleep in the back of my car, but we couldn’t stop laughing. we were totally giddy, that stupid fun laughter when somebody swallows too loud or some shit. the second day we hiked 14 miles in 118 degree heat and almost DIED but when we got back we just laughed at how dumb we were, and how much fun we had. we played cards at sunset on the pavement. we laid on top of my car and watched the milkyway and the meteor shower that aligned with when we were there

the last day we hiked more, swam in our underwear in the rio grande, I had to piggyback carry him across the river cause he didn’t have the right shoes. i had never felt so free and spontaneous and fuckin seen. we had such good, deep conversations about life and trauma and emotions. I told him everything and he told me everything. 

we drove back, and we were even more attached after that. I think I knew I was in love with him after we got back, and we ended up being co-counselors for the next session, meaning we had the same cabin and we were together 24/7 with our boys and it was the best week of the summer in terms of camp cause we just had so much fun. 

one late night in the van he fell asleep on my shoulder, and I held his head when we went around turns or over bumps so he didn’t wake up (little did I know he was just pretending to be asleep and loved every minute of it). after that he said he was ‘claiming’ me for the night, which ended up with me sneaking down into the boys cabin where I was not supposed to be to watch a movie. and then the movie didn’t work, which turned into us cuddling and talking about everything and confessing feelings and writing words into each others skin.

I slept down there with him, and when we woke up he looked at me and said ‘kiss me, please’ so I did and he said “long overdue”. we had one last session of camp after that, so we were just anxiously awaiting the last few days off after the session ended. 

we went on a few real dates in those days, tacos and ice cream and late night chats on the roof, staring at the city. two days before we had to leave I went down to his room to talk, and he had gotten into his head, decided he didn’t think long distance would be good for either of us. we had an honest conversation about it, and I managed to convince him to give it a try (or so I thought). and I promised him that if he didn’t want to do it once we gave it a shot that I would accept it.

the next day, he (unknown to me) went and tried to get advice from his friends and cried the whole time because he knew he was going to hurt me and he really didn’t want to.

later that day, he told me that it wasn’t going to work. we both sobbed for literal hours, because we both knew if we weren’t going our separate ways we would have never let it go. we ended up sort of hooking up that night (everything but actually fucking haha, first time for both of us) because that’s how we wanted our last night together to go, we’d both never been more comfortable with anyone else in our whole lives

when my alarm went off the next morning I woke up and cried, got up, packed up everything I had brought with me. he brought my car around to the front of the lodge, helped me pack. 

we held each other for a minute, kissed each other goodbye, and that was the last time I saw him in person, almost a whole year ago now.

we still talk. we had to stop for a little while because it was too hard, too raw for both of us. we’re friends now. we skype every couple weeks, stay in touch. but as much as i try to convince myself that I don’t, im pretty sure I still love him, and I think that I always will. 

[langdxn]

Hey hey! I really liked the Richard fic you recently posted, I haven't seen many people writing for him! Could you write some smut for Richard? Maybe something where the reader and him sneak around the clinic in the middle of the night bc they both can't sleep and end up having sex somewhere? 👀I'll leave it up to you, I just really love your writing!

Awh thank you very much anon, I’m so glad you liked it! Richard’s our soft boi and I love writing for him so much, I had to give him a new aspect here just for fun. Hope this is what you were looking for, anon! ❤️

You weren’t usually this nervous introducing yourself to clinic newcomers.

After gazing at him from your dark corner of the lounge for three weeks straight, convincing yourself there would never be a right time to greet Richard, you decided the perfect time to approach him would have to be at 4am on a Wednesday.

“Can’t sleep?”

Richard’s focus remained on the TV set, volume low to not wake the rest of the clinic.

“Me neither,” you sighed, slumping into the seat beside him. Uncomfortable, its padding had seen better days, but the clinic wasn’t there to make life easy for you.

“I’m Y/N. You’re Richard, right?”

A nod.

“Jonah’s been talking about you. Won’t shut up about you actually. It’s not all nice things but that just means he likes you, at least in Jonah’s language anyway.”

Richard’s gaze dropped to his lap, clearly unwilling to discuss his roommate. Your plethora of inane icebreakers was wearing thin already.

“I’m not taking their meds either. You think they’d have noticed when there’s a pair of insomniacs sat wide awake in the lounge that should’ve been out for the count four hours ago.”

He stifled a snicker under his breath, curling his long brunette hair behind his ear. Assuming this stony silence couldn’t last forever, you rose to your feet and stood in front of him, completely blocking his view of the flickering screen. Outstretching a hand before him, you smiled warmly.

“Walk with me?”

He took a second to deliberate, quirking an eyebrow and meeting your eyes with his, before taking your hand as you whisked him away.

Treading out into the humid summer night, you headed for the tire swings as Richard trailed obediently. You picked a swing in the middle, leaving Richard no choice but to sit beside you. He took a seat tentatively, gazing at you for the next instruction.

“So what do you think of this place so far?”

“Could be worse,” Richard huffed, you flinched slightly at the first words you’d heard escape his lips.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” you laughed dismissively, scuffing your sneakers in the dust beneath your feet. “I could still be living with my parents.”

Concern suddenly washed over his face, brows furrowed as he looked at you softly.

“What did they do?”

“Ah, you know,” you started swinging nervously, gliding your feet back to throw yourself forwards. “Threw stuff whenever I said something out of turn. Threw me out the door when something didn’t go their way. Argued more than they talked. Packed suitcases, smashed plates, the usual.”

“That—that’s not the usual,” Richard muttered, crossing his feet as the momentum of your swing carried him away.

“Yeah, I know it isn’t. Just makes it easier if I pretend it’s what everybody else does.”

A tense pause between you allowed you to hear the crickets in the summer night, a cacophony of natural nocturnal creatures that also avoided taking their sleeping meds.

“My parents couldn’t understand what was wrong with me,” Richard sighed solemnly, you scuffed your feet on the ground to halt your swing. “They just left me here so they could get on with their lives.”

“That’s not the usual either,” you murmured.

“Yeah, I know.”

Richard slammed his feet into the dirt, sliding from his swing to lean against the tree, a slight pout scrunching his lips.

“Hey, don’t worry,” you shushed him as you untangled yourself from the tire swing and stopped in front of him, your sneakers bumping his. You raised a caring hand to brush his brooding brunette fringe from his eyes and gently cupped his cheek. “Fuck them. We’ve got each other now, right?”

“Why are you being so nice to me?” His deep blue eyes sparkled even in the dim light, a troubled gaze meeting yours.

“Because we’re in this together, Richard. We’re two fucked up kids stuck in this shithole until they decide we’re mentally fit to be released back into the real world.”

“Oh and it also helps I’ve had a crush on you since I first saw you.”

You winced at your blunt delivery, almost hoping he hadn’t heard you. 

He definitely heard you.

Richard snaked both his hands around your waist and drew you into him, enveloping your lips with his. Your hands draped around his neck and pulled him closer, fireworks bursting in your mind as you melted into his touch.

Trailing his grasp down to your hips, Richard spun you both around until you were pressed up against the sharp bark of the tree, your hair swinging recklessly around you and wooden nodules resting in the small of your back as he allowed his hands to wander up your chest. Grabbing handfuls of your breasts, he kneaded lightly at the flimsy nightdress between you. Unadulterated moans slipped through your conjoined lips followed by a searing path of heat coursing down between your legs, willing your shaking knees to hold you up.

His soft fingertips journeyed down to clutch your thigh, wrapping it slickly around his hips allowing him access to your already dampened panties.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you ever since I got here,” he hummed against your lips as you pulled him in deeper, nibbling the tip of his tongue to draw him into your mouth as a contented grunt escaped him.

He reluctantly broke away from your kiss to glance down and take in the view of you curled around him, clinging onto him, rivers of arousal spilling from your core down onto his jeans.

“You’re so beautiful,” he cooed. You shared a knowing glance, he traced a finger towards your panties, scooping them aside in one smooth flick, exposing your folds enough to slide two fingers inside you.

You threw your head back against the tree as he curled his fingers against your walls, tracing gentle flicks inside you as your hands hesitantly wandered to unbutton his jeans. Retrieving his cock from its denim incarceration, you gently pumped a few times before his hand slipped out of your cunt and helped you line up with his length. He edged his hips into you until his tip parted your entrance, his eyes firing into the back of his head on contact.

“Fu—fuck, you’re so tight,” Richard murmured as he slipped inside you, disguising his soft moans by planting hot kisses up your neck.

Your heavy breaths and lazy scratches under his shirt spoke the words you couldn’t find as he increased the tempo of his thrusts into your dripping walls, the sounds of your slapping skin echoing around the basketball court behind you.

“You’re so wet for me,” he moaned, setting a torturous pace peppered with gratuitous grunts falling from his tongue. Richard felt the unmistakable tugs of your walls as pressure began to build deep inside you and smiled.

“You’re close already?” He thrust his hips into you like punctuation, forcing helpless moans from your parted lips. “I need you to say it for me, babe.”

His relentless pounding into your walls had rendered you entirely speechless, so much that you couldn’t remember the last time you spoke to Richard while he was rutting into you. You cupped his face in your hands, planting rushed kisses across his cheeks and lips pleading to let you tip over the edge of your climax.

“Richard, I—I’m gonna—I’m gonna cum—“

“It’s okay Y/N, I’ve got you,” he husked, holding you flush to his chest and curling his hips deeper into you. “Let go for me.”

Your clouded eyes rolled up to the night sky as your orgasm took control of you, Richard’s spread hands digging into your hips as he gave in to his own release, pouring slowly against your walls with a loud, unrestrained moan.

As you caught your breath coming down from your high, you met his piercing blue eyes with a warm, caring gaze.

“I better tell Jonah the only way to get you talking is by screwing you against a tree at 4am,” you chuckled, earning you a cheeky glare from Richard as he slipped out of your dripping folds.

“I better tell Jonah the only way to shut you up is by pounding you against a tree at 4am.”

“Fuck you, Richard,” you slapped his chest playfully, carefully unhooking your legs from his waist to drop to the ground.

“You just did, babe.”