#he bought one for himself but eventually conceded and gave it (the one in the pic) to me during Enchanted

[etrevil]

"proposed" to him at Love Story

"proposed" to me at Enchanted

gender reversal fr 😌🤌

[sawyer-chambers]

tessa-fox​:

“True”, Tessa conceded. “You’ll be relieved to hear that the cells are the smallest place I have ever lived in; and the worst” Her room at the orphanage had been only a bit larger than the cells, though it was a lot more welcoming than the steel bars. She had been so glad to get out of the shared room when she was 14 that she would have accepted far smaller. That was another part of her life she had tried to forget about, only that the mention of Thai food brought back those memories. At least it was a good one.

“That’s why I’m surprised you got him in the first place” Finally, she dared to step closer, stretching out a flat hand for the dog to sniff on. A chuckle escaped her lips as she felt his warm breath and wet nose against it. “It looks brand new here, almost as if you were trying to sell it” Tessa didn’t judge. She wasn’t good at being orderly and only managed because she did not have much to begin with. And she had known this about Sawyer, at least unconsciously, or else she assumed she would have been more surprised by it. “What’s your name?”, she whispered to her new furred friend.

“Excuse you?” Finally. It finally felt fucking normal to speak to him again. Tessa wondered how long that would last as she rose and feigned indignation. “You should know best that I never mouth off and always go to my classes” But it wasn’t long until she had to laugh. “Well, something like that. I’m sure this says more about you than about me, anyway” She smiled and looked back at him and poof. It was gone again. Looking in his eyes, she remembered exactly why she had felt so nervous. She remembered when she hugged him – even though she wasn’t quite herself. It felt good and that must have somehow been the truth. At least she found him attractive now; something she had failed to notice before.

“A tour sounds good”

But that was besides the point. She was just here to make sure they were still friends; that he wasn’t feeling awkward about last time. Right?

"That does come as a relief," he conceded. The thought of living in one of those cells could have given him a rash. He was just not used to being out of his comfort zone. Back home, his bedroom was the sort filled with memories and items that were dear to him. Jerseys from his days in the track team, the swimming team and the tennis team. He missed the latter. "You don't play tennis, do you?" She wouldn't have had to be good at it. He just wanted to play again, and he also wanted to spend more time with her. "Sorry, that's a bit random. I was thinking of home too," he gave her a rare smile and pushed the door that led to the rest of his apartment.

He ignored the one leading to the playroom, not exactly in the mood for coming off as a creep.

"His name is Lafayette," he told her from over his shoulder, while he texted the Thai place to have a delivery in the next half hour. "Oh of course, how could I forget I'm talking to Ms. Valedictorian of Summa Cum Laude," he teased.

The corridor was not too decorated, but he'd framed old maps of New York City and had them hanging from the wall here. Pushing the door to the bathroom, he figured it was best if she knew where to go. He'd added a frame here too, and a Nouvelle Vague movie poster was on the wall, color coordinated with the wall paint color. "A lot nicer than the ones downstairs," he commented. There was no malice to his words, it was a simple statement. "I'm glad I left the common showers in high school," he added, leaving the room to keep the tour going.

There was not much else worth seeing. His bedroom and the dressing room next to it. She'd find some more bookshelves, as those in the living room were well stocked up but while he kept all his textbooks and some extra ones that saved him trips to the library, she'd fine the fiction ones here.

A lot were from the likes of Stephen King, the sort he bought while going on trips abroad, to read in the plane, on the beach or back at the hotel room when he could not find sleep, but a few he'd bought to have something to talk about with her. Tessa was the sort of person who read literature instead of books and Sawyer could only rely on his English classes as far as his knowledge of those was concerned. He'd tried Austen, but it wasn't really his thing. He figured he'd eventually find classics he liked but the copy of A room with a view on his bed side table hadn't moved in a week or two. "So that would be my room," he cleared his throat and pushed himself aside. It wasn't too different from the rest. Squeaky clean and without a thing out of place.

"I'll go set the table, if you wanna wash your hands or whatever," it gave her time to take a look around, he figured and it gave him time to do what he had to do.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Spilled Pearls

- Chapter 17 - ao3 -

The next week was far more enjoyable than Lan Qiren had thought it would be.

He wasn’t really sure, in retrospect, what he had anticipated a visit with Wen Ruohan to consist of – more awkward conversations or being forced to drink liquor, perhaps, although the apology of the blanket had largely assuaged his fears in that regard – but he hadn’t actually expected it to be fun.

Wen Ruohan took him around the Sun Palace and the Nightless City, allowing him to point out whatever caught his interest and casually narrating some interesting history of whatever it was, whether person, place, or thing. The Nightless City was full of treasures, some their own or won through acts of heroism, others looted from other sects; Wen Ruohan was not especially shy about describing how his sect had grown rich with subordinate sects, telling the stories of how his sect had defeated and devoured the others with relish, but it wasn’t as if such ruthless growth wasn’t echoed in every other Great Sect’s history as well. And Wen Ruohan himself was ancient, his involvement in the history of his sect personal, and above all else he was proud – endlessly proud.

He was proud of his city, of his sect, of his personal accomplishments. It was said of him that he thought every good thing under the sun rightfully belonged to him, and hearing him speak Lan Qiren could see why people thought so. Wen Ruohan thought other people were wasting their time with such treasures, leaving them to waste away half-used; he thought that he himself was the only one that could value them as he believed they deserved.

It wasn’t just items, though, whether valuable spiritual weapons or devices that any sect would keep as an heirloom. Wen Ruohan valued people, too: he had subordinates drawn from all over the cultivation world, those with special talents or high potential. Even when Lan Qiren hadn’t asked, Wen Ruohan made a special point of pointing them out, telling the story of how he’d saved this one and earned a life-debt, how he’d lured that one in with promises of riches and power, how he’d given his surname to a third who had in the end only wanted a place to belong.

It took a while for Lan Qiren to understand the message, unspoken as it was, but eventually he got it.

Like a treasured sword left to prop open a door, Wen Ruohan had said about Lan Qiren, way back when he’d sworn brotherhood with him in a drunken evening and reconfirmed it in the morning. Lan Qiren hadn’t believed him then, and he’d gone on not believing him for ages, but he was starting to suspect, to his bemusement, that Wen Ruohan actually meant it – that he thought Lan Qiren was something special, like his powerful subordinates or his talented artists and artisans, like the geniuses and scholars he added to his sect like adding flowers to a vase.

That their brotherhood wasn’t mostly a farce the way Lan Qiren had always assumed it was, whether a tease to Lao Nie or a mockery of the Lan sect, but rather something…genuine.

Lan Qiren wasn’t sure what to do about that, so he opted not to do anything at all, throwing it all in the back of his mind to be considered at length later. But he had to admit – he liked it.

He liked the attention Wen Ruohan paid him, the fact that an older man, powerful and respected and renowned throughout the cultivation world, thought he was worth spending time with even without anyone else there to mediate. He liked the way that Wen Ruohan indulged him, the way that Lan Qiren’s bed in the Nightless Palace was even more comfortably textured than his treasured blanket back home, the way the design of the furniture and even plateware was, although in red and white, in the styles he liked most; he liked the way Wen Ruohan would add things as he figured out more of Lan Qiren’s preferences, beautiful paintings making their way onto his walls and fresh cut flowers beside his table. He liked the way Wen Ruohan remembered that he liked grilled foods over stewed ones, even years later, and how he didn’t serve him meat even when he ate it himself, although he made clear that it was available if Lan Qiren wished to try it; he liked how if there was something he didn’t like, it wasn’t served again.

Best of all, though, he liked how Wen Ruohan listened to him, even when he talked too long or on a subject that he (usually belatedly) realized other people would likely find boring. Not just nodding along, either, but actually paying attention enough to ask questions and interject comments, offering new perspectives on old subjects – how sometimes it seemed as though something Lan Qiren had said had sparked some new insight for Wen Ruohan, even though that seemed improbable. Wen Ruohan would sometimes interrupt their conversation to wave over a servant, ordering them to get this or that book related to their conversation, and if his memory for remembering exact citations was not as good as Lan Qiren’s then the vastness of the library available at his fingertips more than made up for it. Their conversation flowed easily and well, despite their age difference; it was helped along by Wen Ruohan’s charm, that mask Lan Qiren had noticed with Lao Nie, but it was easy enough to ignore the dangerous aura that lingered behind the façade when Lan Qiren felt certain that he, at least, would not be the target of that danger.

It felt – easy.

That was the strangest part, really. Lan Qiren was the son of a Great Sect, privileged even among the privileged; he had never lacked for food or drink or even knowledge. And yet it felt as if he had been struggling alone up the side of a mountain, the burdens forced onto his shoulders weighing him down; even if he had been able to manage it just fine, the fact that there was now someone walking alongside him, sharing it with him, supporting him, made it feel so much easier. He felt safe, he felt secure. He felt happy.

He felt –

Well, he felt a little guilty for thinking it, but he felt as though he finally had a brother.

Lan Qiren had always been a little skeptical of the description of brothers in all the tales he’d heard, the idea of an elder brother caring for and guiding the younger one utterly foreign to him; he tried to emulate the younger siblings, who idolized and loved their elders with a passion that rivaled that which they shared with their lovers, carrying within them a bond that would never be broken, but he knew in his heart that he could not do so in truth. Lan Qiren did idolize his brother, who was perfect in nearly every way except that he didn’t much like Lan Qiren, yet that deficiency was enough to make it difficult to like him back; Lan Qiren could love him better in theory than he could in practice.

With Wen Ruohan, it was different.

Lan Qiren wasn’t quite sure it was exactly like being a brother, either – for one thing, all the attention made him feel strangely shy, made his heart beat too fast and his stomach feel tense, and it wasn’t anything at all like the cheerful and casual camaraderie he shared with his nicer cousins like Lan Yueheng or even with someone he thought might be a friend, like Lao Nie – but whatever it was, he knew that he liked it.

He liked it enough to try to be flexible on some of his own relatively strict standards: to agree to try some local specialties that Wen Ruohan especially wished to share, to take the time to help Wen Ruohan with matters relating to his sect when there was no objection, to make an effort to stay up later than his usual bedtime in order to complete a conversation.

He even allowed Wen Ruohan to buy him things he would normally have rejected out of hand – for example, Wen Ruohan seemed to have a particular fascination for selecting clothing, which Lan Qiren didn’t understand in the slightest, but after having been so indulged, it seemed like it was the least he could do to return the favor.

“I really don’t know the difference between the two cuts,” he confessed, frowning down at the sketches presented by the tailor. “It seems – fairly minimal?”

“They are for completely different body types, Master Lan, and flatter the body in very different ways,” the tailor told him. “What appear to be small choices, such as whether to wear wide sleeves or tight gauntlets, robes or trousers, the style of the shoulders, the cut and angle of the collar, can make the difference between a cold demeanor and a warm one, a mature man and a childish one, a passionate earthy beauty and a icy fairy who stands above the earth.”

Lan Qiren nodded gamely, happy to concede the point – he had always enjoyed hearing other people expound about their interests, even if he didn’t share them, and it was clear the tailor enjoyed his work – but felt obliged to add, “Even if that’s true, how can I know which one I prefer? Anyway, I really don’t need any more clothing…”

“You should have several options in each style already ready-made for sect disciples, do you not?” Wen Ruohan asked the tailor, cutting Lan Qiren off, just as he had the last few times Lan Qiren had tried to suggest that he didn’t actually need to be bought more things. Competitive, as Cangse Sanren had said, only she’d forgotten to add stubborn! “Bring out a few and let him try them.”

“I don’t think –”

“That’s the best way to see what fits best,” the tailor agreed, nodding. “I’ll bring them at once, Sect Leader.”

“But –”

Lan Qiren gave up his clearly futile protests, reminded himself that he’d decided to make an effort to cooperate, and followed the tailor to another room to change his clothing. It felt strange and almost inappropriate, putting on the colors of another sect – at least the base color was still white, which was comforting, but the vivid reds, entirely dissimilar from the usual cool blue accents of the Lan sect, were certainly unlike anything he’d ever worn before.

And the style itself was very different, too. Both sects preferred tight sleeves, but the Wen sect didn’t add an overlay with wide sleeves the way the Lan sect did, and they had a sharp cut at the shoulders and collars that the Lan sect disfavored. Lan Qiren’s usual pick of clothing was even more simple – less layered, fewer cuts – than most in his sect, and the Wen sect outfit, though far from excessive, was almost flamboyant by his standards.  

“It fits surprisingly well,” he remarked to the tailor, who smiled vacuously. “I’m lucky that you happened to have something so close to my size at hand.”

“You are very lucky, Lan-er-gongzi,” the tailor said, and although his face was blurred in the copper mirror, Lan Qiren briefly thought he almost looked nervous. “Please wait where you are, there’s one more thing I think would be a perfect fit.”

Lan Qiren nodded absently, looking down at his sleeves and tugging on them even though they fit just right. Truly it was a marvel, he thought to himself; most of his clothing was tailored for him personally, painstakingly made in the Lan sect style with embroidered arrays woven into the clothing, and yet some of those had fit less well than this…

He started in shock when he unexpectedly felt hands fall onto his head, loosening his crown, but when he looked up, ready to scold the tailor for his presumptuousness in daring to touch another man’s hair without permission, he saw Wen Ruohan standing behind him instead, a faint smile on his face.

Lan Qiren’s complaint froze in his throat.

Wen Ruohan, at least, did not violate the prohibition against touching another person’s forehead ribbon, avoiding it entirely as he skillfully wove out the guan Lan Qiren was wearing and replaced it with another in his own preferred style – silver instead of gold, and with a string of pearls that were woven into his hair and a single one that fell down to rest between his brows, just above his forehead ribbon.

That complete, Wen Ruohan put his hands on Lan Qiren’s shoulders and studied him in the mirror, his red eyes intent and thoughtful as he surveyed his handiwork.

“Very good,” he said, and his voice was thick with satisfaction.

Lan Qiren swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry for no reason he could explain.

“I knew pearls would suit you,” Wen Ruohan added, and Lan Qiren shook his head. “No? I think they do.”

“The rules –”

“Allow no more than three adornments on your waist, which this is not,” Wen Ruohan said smoothly. “And the rule against adorned beads and chains with bells is targeted at adornments that make unnecessary noise. You would not deny a member of your sect the right to wear a Jiang sect bell with its tongue removed, would you?”

“The Jiang sect only give their clarity bells to those who are in their sect, related by blood, or plan to marry in,” Lan Qiren objected, although he realized a moment later that he was quibbling over nonsense instead of getting to the key point. “I don’t need anything like this. It’s far too much.”

Wen Ruohan didn’t say anything; he only smiled.

“I should change back,” Lan Qiren said, uncomfortable. “I wouldn’t want to give anyone the wrong idea.”

“We wouldn’t want that, no,” Wen Ruohan murmured, and Lan Qiren quickly gathered up his clothing and retreated from the room. It was only when he had mostly changed that he realized that he hadn’t taken his original guan back from Wen Ruohan. Without much choice – going with his hair down would be far more inappropriate than being over-dressed – he left the pearls in place.

“You’re doing this just to embarrass me,” he accused Wen Ruohan as they returned to the Sun Palace.

“Perhaps,” Wen Ruohan hummed. “Who’s to say what my motives may be?”

“You! You can say!” Lan Qiren huffed, but he supposed this, too, was part of being brothers. “You’ll give me a new copy of our oath, right? Don’t forget again.”

“It’ll be in your quarters by evening,” Wen Ruohan promised, looking amused, and in the end he did better than that, a servant delivering the message while Lan Qiren was still putting away the odds and ends Wen Ruohan had bought for him during the day.

It occurred to Lan Qiren later that the move might have been calculated – he’d promptly forgotten anything else in favor of looking over the terms, which to his relief were mostly the classic ones, the elder guiding the younger, the younger obeying the elder, dire consequences for betraying their oath and bond, the usual. 

There was an additional clause about loyalty and fidelity that seemed a little over-emphatic, almost as if it’d been cribbed from some marriage vow or subordinate’s oath – he supposed Wen Ruohan would have more reason to be paranoid about betrayal than most – and one about good faith and patience and education, which he suspected might have been his drunken self’s attempt to accommodate Wen Ruohan’s complaints about his excess enthusiasm, though he supposed it could alternatively be interpreted as an obligation for each of them to explain themselves to each other. Or maybe it was an obligation for Lan Qiren to educate other people at Wen Ruohan’s request - perhaps to step up and teach his sons one day? It was really very unclear, but then, such oaths usually were. 

Alcohol was clearly prohibited for a reason, he thought to himself, and then shook his head, at this point more amused by it than anything else.

He only noticed that he was still wearing the stupid over-fancy guan when he started to head out to start the afternoon routine he had already started to turn into a habit: a walk through the gardens, physical training with the sword, and then musical training to conclude shortly before dinner, which he would share with Wen Ruohan, followed by another walk, this time in his sworn brother’s company. The routine gave him the time he needed to devote to his responsibilities as a cultivator, as well as some blissful time to himself; Wen Ruohan, he presumed, used the time for much the same purposes.

Lan Qiren scowled at his reflection in the tranquil lakewater in one of the garden pools, torn between wanting to go back to change the thing out – it would be ridiculous to expect him to do his usual training wearing something that probably cost more than his yearly allowance – and the knowledge that if he did so, he would have to miss out on some part of his routine, which he hated to do. Yet if he didn’t, he wouldn’t have another opportunity to remove it until after dinner…

“Lan-er-gongzi?”

Lan Qiren turned, surprised: it was Madame Wen, who he had not seen since his arrival. He raised his hands in salute, but to his surprise she waved it off. “Lan-er-gongzi,” she said. “Could I ask you for a favor?”

“Of course,” he said, and felt a frisson of fear when she put her hand on her belly. Surely it couldn’t have to do with…?

“Could you find my husband and ask him to visit the doctors?” she asked, biting her lower lip. “The servants can be indiscreet, and I don’t think I can go myself…”

“I’ll tell him at once,” Lan Qiren assured her, now truly alarmed by the implicit suggestion. “Do you know where he is?”

“At this time in the afternoon?” she said vaguely. “Oh, I’m not quite sure…probably in the third palace.”

She nodded towards one of the buildings, a little distant from the Sun Palace but not far.

Lan Qiren nodded. “Do you need anything – somewhere to sit, or…?”

Madame Wen shook her head. “I’ll go sit down. Don’t concern yourself for me.”

Lan Qiren nodded a second time – sitting seemed like a good idea – and headed towards the third palace at a brisk pace. As much as he usually hated breaking his afternoon routine, any risk to human life would always take preeminent status.

It occurred to him as he approached it that he hadn’t been to the third palace before, despite the tours he’d been on, although he supposed that it wasn’t so surprising, with him having only been there a week. The Wen sect’s domain, like its city, was vast and sprawling, teeming with people and buildings alike; it would take many visits, he expected, before he would learn it all. Still, Wen Ruohan had promised him the freedom to wander where he willed, and no one stopped him as he headed into the palace, seeking his sworn brother through the usual signs of his presence: the overwhelming concentration of qi, and the usual disarray of guards and servants that invariably had to rearrange themselves to account for the presence of their sect leader.

He found him, too.

Wen Ruohan was smiling the same smile he had given Lan Qiren earlier that day, full of satisfaction and pleasure and amusement, a bowl of wine dangling between his fingers as he leaned back in his seat, his entire posture suggesting that he was enjoying himself as he watched a good show – only what was in front of him was terror and blood and bile, men and women strapped to horrific devices as they screamed and bled and begged for mercy that they would not receive.

Lan Qiren must have made a sound, though he did not realize it, because Wen Ruohan turned to look at him, his eyebrows arching in surprise. “What are you doing in the Fire Palace, little Lan…?”

The Fire Palace, Lan Qiren thought, feeling strangely numb. Yes, that sounded right.

He’d heard all the rumors about it: how Wen Ruohan was violent and bloodthirsty, how he craved power and control, that he enjoyed torturing his enemies unmercifully until even death was a blessing.

He’d heard.

He’d just…disregarded it. Thought it was false, perhaps, or maybe he’d just lied to himself and pretended that because Wen Ruohan was kind to him that he was kind to everyone else.

“Who sent you here, little Lan?” Wen Ruohan asked, his brows coming together in a frown. “Tell me.”

He wasn’t happy. Of course he wasn’t; Lan Qiren wasn’t supposed to be here – he hadn’t been taken to this place, probably purposefully, and he was a creature of habit and routine, which he rarely if ever broke without warning. If he hadn’t feared for Madame Wen’s life, he would never have gone himself, much less in such a rush.

Madame Wen…she must have known what he would find here.

She’d known.

He should have known.

“Little Lan?”

An elder brother was meant to guide and educate the younger. Was this what he was supposed to let Wen Ruohan guide him towards?

“…Lan Qiren?”

Lan Qiren flinched violently at the sound of his name, but it spurred him into motion – he staggered back a few steps, unable to get his bearings for a moment, and then he grabbed blindly at some terrible-looking sharp objects lying on a nearby table waiting for their turn to be used. A flick of his wrist sent them into the throats of the victims, ending their suffering in a gout of blood, and then he turned on his heel and fled, tearing off the too-expensive guan as he did, the pearls falling on the ground behind him.

“Lan Qiren!”

[thegirlwhorunswithwinchesters]

Bathe in Sin

Summary: A stubborn Sam leaves the bunker and Lacey goes with him. After days of trying to get through to him, she decides on a different approach to help him blow off steam. 

Created for: @cockslut-padalecki​‘s Decade Under the Influence Challenge

Prompt: “Dressed to kill, you look so right. I am drunk with lust tonight. Your wounds are opening wide, and they might be just my size” - Side Walk When She Walks by Alexisonfire

Pairing: Sam x OC

Warnings: 18+ PLUS ONLY!! Angst, unprotected sex, rough, my unstoppable obsession with how large Sam is shining through here and there

Word count: 2.9K

A/N: This is my first time posting an explicit smut fic. I tried to do the lyrics and the vibes of the song justice. Let me know what you think! Feedback is the best fuel for every writer <3

Beta: @princessmisery666​

|| JJ’s Masterlist ||

(gif)

It was the first night in their third motel since leaving the bunker. Lacey wasn’t sure if Sam was looking for a hunt, or maybe he didn’t want Dean to find them. She doubted Dean would be looking for them. Neither brother was going to concede anytime soon. 

Knuckleheads.

Lacey could smack herself for not having realized sooner how serious their falling out was. She wondered, if she had only stepped in a little bit earlier, things wouldn’t be the way they were now. They would have been home, where they belonged. She would be sitting around the table with the two brothers, rolling her eyes at one of Dean’s stupid jokes while Sam looked at her with that peaceful smile he only got when it was just them. 

It wasn’t that she didn’t understand why Sam was upset. Dean had lied to him. Again. He said he did it to protect his little brother. Again. Sam got angry with Dean. Also, not new. But this time he had packed a bag and bolted out the door. Lacey had barely had any time to grab her own duffle and follow him.

It hadn’t been her choice to leave home, but if it meant she at least got to be with Sam while he figured this out, she would bite her tongue and get through it with him. The problem wasn’t that she didn’t support Sam. She would die for him without a second thought. The problem with this situation was that it was a waste of time. Lacey knew the brothers would come to their senses and make up eventually anyway. She just wished she knew when so she didn’t have to wonder when she’d sleep in her own comfortable bed again, or get to use a shower of which the water stayed warm for longer than three minutes.

Sam was stubborn. Lacey had figured that out soon enough when she got to know him. Despite that, she fell in love with the man. Maybe even a little bit because of it. She knew he could handle all this. He just needed some time.

She had brief text-exchanges with Dean to let him know they were all right, but the brothers hadn’t spoken since their argument. That was over two weeks ago.

Sam had been on edge from the moment he hightailed out of the bunker. Lacey tried to talk some sense into him multiple times. During the long car rides, Sam would turn the radio volume up to end the conversation. At night in bed, he would say he was tired and turn off the light. The few times she did manage to get him to say something, Sam would tell her Dean was the one she should be trying to talk to. In the texts from the older Winchester, she got the same response about Sam.

Lacey wanted to grab both brothers’ pride and stick it where the sun couldn’t reach. She was usually a pretty patient person, but when she saw the people she cared about hurting because of something so stupid, something they could fix so easily, she got frustrated.

One night, Lacey had pushed Sam a little too far and he snapped at her, telling her to get lost. She hadn’t even been able to turn around to leave before he was in front of her, grabbing her hand and looking at her with regret deep in his eyes. She’d stayed. And Sam apologized a dozen different times that night, in a dozen different ways.

Following that night, Sam seemed to have realized he had to be more careful who he directed his frustration toward. He wasn’t angry with Lacey, he was angry with Dean. And, Lacey knew, with himself, but that was a conversation he definitely wasn’t ready to have yet.

Day after day, Lacey was hyper-aware of how tense Sam was. She had exhausted most methods to get him to talk about it and face the problem. She had to come up with a new plan. Maybe what Sam needed was a distraction, a way to forget for a moment. Lacey knew just the thing to help him blow off steam.

Sam needed to get lost in something other than his frustration. She wanted him to get lost in her.

Lacey was still in the bathroom when Sam came back from his supply run that night. When she came out, he was putting away the last of the food in the small motel room fridge. Lacey walked into the room barefoot, wearing nothing but one of Sam’s large shirts over her underwear.

Upon hearing her approaching, Sam glanced over his shoulder. He frowned and looked at the clock on the wall, before looking back at Lacey. “You’re going to bed already?” he asked. “It’s only nine. I thought we could go into town, catch a movie.” 

Ever since he’d snapped at her, Sam had been trying to find ways to make being away from home more enjoyable for her. Lacey knew he felt guilty, and she appreciated the effort, but tonight she had other plans.

“I thought we’d stay in tonight,” she said. “There’s something we need to discuss.”

Sam took in a sharp breath before slowly closing the fridge and standing up straight. Though there was a few feet left between them, he was still towering over her. A disapproving look shone in his eyes.

“Lace, I told you, I don’t want to talk a-”

“It’s not about that,” she quickly cut him off. Lacey’s lips pulled into a conniving little smile. Her finger caught a lock of her hair and started twirling it. “I was just wondering…”

As her voice trailed off, Sam’s eyebrows raised. She could tell he was slowly catching on to her mood, and so she continued.

Her hands disappeared underneath the shirt she was wearing. “I was just wondering…” she said again as she swiftly pulled down the pair of panties that had been hidden by the shirt’s fabric. She bent forward to guide the piece of lingerie down her bare legs. “What you think of these.” When she righted again, it was dangling from her outstretched index finger. “I bought them new the other day.”

Sam took in the laced fabric. It had always been her favorite style of lingerie to wear, and his favorite to see on her. The irony wasn’t lost on either of them.

Lacey noticed Sam’s eyes had darkened to that familiar shade of lust. She rubbed the insides of her thighs together. Sam still hadn’t said anything, so she continued.

“It’s a matching set,” she innocently informed him as she let the panties drop on the floor. Sam’s eyes didn’t follow them down, they stayed right on her. They watched her pull the straps of her bra down her arms, and through the sleeves of his shirt. They took in the way she reached behind her back and unclasped the second piece of the set.

This time she didn’t hold it up for him to look at. She just gave the bra a quick tuck and let it fall from beneath the shirt, onto the floor at her feet.

A new form of tension hung in the air between them. Lacey let Sam evaluate the situation in silence for a moment. Let him look at her, standing in front of him, knowing she was fully naked underneath his shirt.

She averted her gaze, looked down at her bare feet and started drawing circles into the carpet. After listening to a few deep heavy breaths from Sam, Lacey glanced up at him through her lashes and asked, “Well? Do you like it?”

Sam tilted his head to one side, then the other, rolling his shoulders to loosen the muscles in his neck. His eyes moved down from her face to her chest. Lacey knew what he was looking at. Her nipples had gotten hard and were now prominently standing out through the fabric of the shirt. Sam’s fervid eyes took in the sight.

Then he finally moved closer to her. He crossed the distance between them in barely two strides. His hands found her hips and pulled her in. Lacey wrapped her arms around his neck and Sam dipped his head down.

“I think,” he hummed in his low voice, his lips brushing her ear, sending shivers down her back, “you look good in anything.” Bending his knees slightly, he easily lifted her up, guiding her legs around his waist. The shirt rode up her thighs, revealing her bare ass. When Sam hoisted her up a little higher, her cunt rubbed against the rough fabric of the waistband of his jeans. The friction caused a soft whimper to escape her lips.

The build-up had heightened all of Lacey’s senses. She could feel how wet she’d gotten solely from the way Sam had been eyeing her.

“However,” he continued as he started walking forward, “I think you look best trapped between me and the closest wall I can press your pert little ass up against.” As Sam finished his filthy thought out loud, Lacey was pressed tight between Sam’s hard chest and the motel room wall. He put his hands against it on either side of her head and leveled his forehead with hers to look into her eyes rather sternly. “You wanna play, huh?” he said, sounding askew.

Lacey nodded, looking deep into his eyes.

“Use your words,” he chastised her, his voice hard.

“Yes.” She licked her lips feverishly. “I want to play, Sam. Please?” Her hips bucked against his, desperately looking for more friction.

Sam smirked at her politeness. “How could I ever say no to that?” he mused. “Look at you, so eager for me.”

“Sam,” Lacey whined. She continued grinding against him. There was now an obvious bulge in his pants and she could feel it against her needy heath every time she moved.

She reached for his belt, but Sam was faster. He grabbed her wrists with one hand and effortlessly pinned them over her head against the wall. His other hand grabbed her chin firmly and tilted her head back to expose her neck.

His mouth was on her instantly, ravaging her skin, breath hot and teeth scraping. “I heard you last night when you were in the shower,” he grunted between bruising kisses. “You didn’t really think you could keep quiet for me, did you? I could make out those sweet noises of yours anywhere.” He pulled his hand from Lacey’s chin and it disappeared beneath the shirt of his she was still wearing. “Or maybe that’s exactly what you wanted.” His rough fingers found one of her hardened nipples and gave it a nasty pinch.

Lacey let out a sharp moan of surprise. It never failed to amaze her how well Sam knew her. It was true she hadn’t tried to hide her little play time in the shower the night before. She had wanted to give him something to think about. Something to stay on his mind throughout the entirety of the next day, to build up to this very moment. It pleased her to find out it had worked out exactly as planned.

“We better get you what you want,” Sam continued, his hand now brazenly groping her tits underneath his shirt. “You look like you’re about to break open,” she didn’t need to see him to know he was smirking, “and I haven’t even filled you up yet.”

Lacey didn’t doubt his words. She sure felt like it. Her heart was thumping in her chest and she had lost all control of her hips. They just kept bucking against Sam’s body, grinding to find some form of release for the desperate want inside of her.

When Sam let go of her wrists, she climbed a little higher up his impossibly large body to allow him to pull his pants and boxers down just far enough. His cock sprung free and Lacey could feel it probing her ass.

Sam’s hands were gentle yet resolute as he pushed Lacey away from his body. It gave him enough room to pull the shirt off her and reveal in all her beautiful, naked glory what she had been teasing to him during her little show from before.

Before the shirt had even landed on the floor, his hand was pulling his hard length up between their bodies. The tip left some of its precum on Lacey’s lower stomach. Sam didn’t miss a beat and wiped it off with his large thumb before moving his hand up to her face.

Lacey parted her lips without a second thought. In response, Sam’s smirk grew and his eyes darkened further. “Good girl,” he spoke huskily as she sucked his finger clean eagerly.

The salty taste subsided after seconds but Sam didn’t pull out his thumb and Lacey kept her plump lips around him. She never broke eye contact, looking at him with the same lust in her eyes that she saw mirrored in his.

He didn’t need any more verbal communication to know what she wanted, and she didn’t need to ask to know he was about to give it to her.

Their bodies moved in sync. Lacey moved her hips back and Sam positioned himself at her entrance. Her body jerked up when he slammed into her, easily filling her up all at once because of how wet she was. He let out a low breathy sound of approval when he watched her breasts bounce from the movement.

“This is what you want, isn’t it, baby?” he cooed in her ear when he leaned closer.

Lacey’s head was leaning back against the wall and all she could get out was a frustrated, “Yuh.” Her hands reached for Sam, blindly finding his long hair and tugging at it.

Sam’s low growl sent a shiver down to her core. Another tug and his teeth were scraping her neck again. One more and he was finally moving inside her.

She could feel him sliding in and out with ease, giving a few lazy thrusts before he started picking up the pace. She had to move her hands from his hair onto his shoulders to grab on tight when he really started pounding into her.

His movements were ruthless, stretching her open wide for him and no doubt leaving her bruised; just the way she liked it. The sounds falling from her lips spurred him on and he somehow began moving even faster.

Lacey wrapped her arms around Sam’s neck tightly, pulling her entire body against him. Her hands slid underneath the collar of his shirt, allowing her nails to dig into his shoulder blades. Sam let out a hiss at the stinging scratches she left behind. She could feel his wicked grin against the tender skin of her throat. He was still sucking, leaving it raw and sensitive.

She let him release all his frustrations, liberate his grievances. And she let him do it all with her. Every movement felt so right. They were both drunk on desire, grunting and panting while their bodies felt like they were on fire.

One of Sam’s hands sneaked its way between them and down Lacey’s front. His large fingers found her clit. He wasted no time starting to circle the bundle of nerves, sending a jolt of deliciously excruciating pleasure straight up to her core.

“Sam,” Lacey moaned into his shoulder, “Baby, I…”

“It’s okay,” he breathed. “Let go.” His hips snapped sharply.

Somewhere far in the back of her mind, Lacey was aware that that was exactly what she was supposed to be saying to him. Then Sam hoisted her up just a little higher and she lost all sense of thought when he hit her from a different angle. Even if she’d still been to her full senses, Lacey wouldn’t have been able to stop herself snapping from the pressure.

“Let go,” she heard Sam say again. Her hips bucked and her body shook as she came. With her walls squeezing around him, Sam’s body tightened against her. She could feel him emptying his load inside of her.

Her name and his praises fell off his lips in the same sloppy rhythm he kept thrusting into her, riding them both through their climax. Lacey’s lips found Sam’s and their deep kiss smothered their moans.

When they pulled apart, Sam caught his breath. He stepped back from the wall and carried Lacey through the room. He didn’t pull out of her until she was hovering over the bed. Then he gently placed her on the mattress. Lacey pulled the blanket over herself as she watched Sam pull his pants the rest of the way down. He took off the rest of his clothes before joining her.

“Feel better?” he asked, a lopsided grin on his beautiful face. The darkness in his eyes had gone but Lacey could still spot a hint of lust remaining.

She nodded, letting out a soft sigh. Then her eyebrows pulled into a slight frown when she thought of how that had hardly been the point of all this. “Yes, but-”

“Me too,” he interrupted her, as if he knew exactly what she was going to say. She realized he probably did.

His hand was on her knee, snaking up her thigh until it reached her core, feeling up the wreckage he’d left behind. “But I bet I can make you feel even better.” And with that same grin still on his lips, Sam fully disappeared under the covers.

Let me know if you want to be added to any of my taglists!

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[splendidly-secret-sick-fics]

Ooo! What about Kuroo feeling really unwell during training camp while training with Bokuto, Akaashi, Tsukki, Hinata and Lev? He's probably felt bad for a while, but just suffered through. So when everything becomes too much, a panicking Hinata runs to get Kenma... and you can decide the rest.

Only if you're comfortable with writing it though! Have a nice day!

Leaders Don’t Cry: a Kuroo sickfic

Pairing: sick Kuroo, caretakers Kenma, Tsukki, Bokuto, Akaashi, kinda Hinata & Lev

Word Count: 4,266

Warnings: vomit, swearing, slight emetophobia, and sad Kuroo :(

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Thanks for the request friend :) I’ve only ever written Kuroo & Kenma as side characters, so this was kinda fun!!

I’m not super super happy with the overall product, but that’s alright. I do feel like maybe it’s not super cohesive? Idk. Let me know!! I look forward to improving my characterization of Kuroo and Kenma.

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Kuroo was a Leader. He was someone that others looked up to. Someone you could depend on.

Leaders were extroverts though, and Kuroo had to admit he did his best Recharging alone in his room or the quiet company of the Kenma. That’s an Introvert Thing, apparently. Even when he was young, too many people or too much social interaction drained him. Another Introvert Thing.

When he met Kenma and started playing volleyball, it seemed he naturally outgrew his Introvert Model, shedding his shy, intimidated outer-self. It was easily replaced with the Extrovert Model.

Now, Kuroo liked being surrounded by his team and his friends and he liked meeting new people. That’s an Extrovert Thing. So Kuroo was an Extrovert.

(“That makes you an Introverted Extrovert, Kuro,” Kenma told him one day. Kuroo didn’t understand how that could possibly be a thing.)

As an Extrovert, it was only natural that he became the captain of his volleyball team his third year. It was only natural that he was the Bridge between Karasuno and the Tokyo powerhouse schools.

(Kenma claimed, when the two of them were alone at least, that it was really his friendship with Chibi-Chan and their coaches that did that. Kuroo refused to concede this point.)

As the Leader and Bridge, it was again only natural that not only his team, but also other teams’ players were drawn to his wisdom and sparkling personality.

(“You forced yourself on them,” Kenma sighed.)

And that’s how he, Kuroo Tetsuro, Certified Extroverted Leader, came to be in Gym Three, long after their main practice ended with two of Karasuno’s first years, Bokuto, Akaashi, and Lev.

And that’s also how he ended up in the Worst Possible Situation.

It went down like this.

They were at another training camp with the Fukurodani Group and Regular Guests, Karasuno High. It was a short one, thrown together quickly because of the long weekend.

After much convincing (read: coercion) from him and Bokuto, Tsukishima Kei agreed to join them again for blocking practice. They pushed because Kuroo couldn’t stand to watch this kid’s talent waste away and Bokuto was personally offended that Tsukki still didn’t seem to enjoy volleyball.

It should have come as no surprise that Karasuno’s Hinata Shoyo joined in again, determined to redeem himself from his previous loss at the last camp.

And then because Haiba Lev decided that Chibi-chan and him were rivals, he joined in too.

(Akaashi claimed he had no choice but to join. It was either endless practice or endless Dejected Bokuto. Kuroo thinks he’s just masochistic.)

Their first night was awesome. He saw a fire ignited in Tsukki and got to smash Bokuto’s spikes back in his face. Plus, his ego was boosted because the three first years were all wowed by his skill.

Tonight, however, was not great. If he was honest with himself, things were bad from the second he woke up, and promptly wanted to curl back into his futon.

His head hurt and his body ached. The sounds of his team waking up and getting ready for the day set his nerves on edge the second he heard them. He felt overcrowded and overstimulated and he wasn’t even out of bed yet.

It had all the signs of a Recharge Alone Day, but it was the last full day of a training camp in which he was supposed to be a Leader. So, he pushed that all aside and got up to go lead.

As the day progressed, Kuroo gave more and more thought to Kenma’s “Introverted Extrovert” theory. He still loved his team and wanted to be around them. He did want to participate in the games and hang out with the other teams.

He also so so very badly wanted to sit in the dark for the next several hours.

Kuroo’s headache only grew more insistent as the day went on, likely due to the sounds of squeaking shoes, bouncing volleyballs, and the too warm summer heat. He got increasingly more fidgety and nervous all day and it made him uncomfortable in his own skin. That, added to the already ever-present soreness of his limbs only served to make him more miserable.

But he was the Captain, so he shoved those feelings down, ignored his headache, and tried to act as normal as possible. For the most part, his plan worked and no one bothered him about what might be wrong. Kenma was the only one that eyed him suspiciously every time his Extrovert facade slipped a little. At the end of the regular practice, his best friend approached him slowly.

“Hey,” he said, his voice quiet as usual.

“Kenma! What’s up, dude?” Kuroo forced, trying to maintain his usual Extrovert Mode.

“Cut the crap, Kuro,” Kenma sighed, blunt and exhausted as usual.

“Kenma, what are you—“

“Are you sick?”

The question caught Kuroo off guard. Was he sick? He thought it was just an Introvert Day that he had to push through. Maybe Kenma had a point though? It wasn’t like he normally felt this drained during a training camp. That usually came after the camp ended.

“No,” he eventually replied and waved his hand, “nah. Just tired. I think practicing with the guys at night took more of my energy than usual.” That must be it. He didn’t usually have to put out that much energy after practice. Lev, Hinata, and Bokuto were all True Extroverts, after all. Unlike Kuroo, who just molded himself into one. It made sense.

Kenma studied him with wide eyes before relenting and saying “Don’t push yourself, Kuro.”

“I won’t, don’t worry. I am a little tired though so maybe I’ll forgo evening prac—“

“Kuroo-san!” Hinata ran up to them, “are we practicing again today?? I want you to show me that cool wha-BAM block again!!” He jumped up and slammed his hands down, most likely trying to imitate exactly what he was trying to convey. All the loud explanation did was call attention back to his headache.

“Shoyo, Kuro was actually just saying that he was—“

“On my way to look for you Chib-chan!” Kuroo interrupted. Kenma narrowed his eyes at him, but Kuroo couldn’t deny the little red headed twerp.

“Let’s go grab something to eat and then we’ll round up the others.”

Hinata looked at him with those stupid starry eyes and nodded before running off to pester Tsukishima. Kuroo deflated some.

“Kuro. It’s okay to take breaks. I know you think that this is what you should be doing as Captain, but it’s alright to say no sometimes,” Kenma said.

“I know, Kenma,” Kuroo smiled gently, ignoring the uneasy feeling in his gut, “Thank you for looking out, but I’m fine! It’s only one more day. Tomorrow afternoon once everyone’s gone, I’ll just hang out in my room. You can come over if you want and play that new game I bought.”

Kenma studied him again before letting out a long-suffering exhale.

“Sure. Sounds good.”

After they ate, the six of them met up in Gym Three for another three on three. On the outside, things were going well. On the inside, Kuroo’s head was quickly descending into chaos.

He pretended that Bokuto, Lev and Hinata weren’t too loud. He pretended that he had enough energy to show them the same move seven times. He pretended he was enjoying this.

All the while, his headache slowly transitioned into a migraine, his limbs got heavier, and his dinner swirled in his stomach nauseatingly. It took maximum effort to stay awake, let alone play a three on three with three of the most energetic people he’d ever met before.

It all came to a head when his feet slammed down after blocking one of Bokuto’s cross shots. The power behind those normally made him stumble upon landing, but this time it sent a sharp pain shooting through his head and stars dance in his vision. He couldn’t regain his footing, and he stumbled onto his ass.

“Kuroo-san?” Akaashi asked when he didn’t get back up. He couldn’t get back up. The stars were still there and he couldn’t really find his feet.

“Y-yeah?” he stuttered.

“Hey, hey, hey, Kuroo, you alright my man?” Bokuto’s voice boomed and he winced before he could stop himself.

“Kuroo-san? What’s wrong?” Akaashi was kneeling beside him now. He could tell by the proximity of his voice.

“Just a a little...dizzy,” he forced a laugh, trying to play it off. He squeezed his eyes shut and brought a hand up to squeeze at his temples. What the hell was happening?

“Kuroo-san! Do you want some water?” Hinata’s voice rang and clanged in his head. He groaned.

��Kuroo-san, don’t die!!” Lev’s voice pounded. He grimaced.

“Would you idiots keep it down?” Tsukishima, beautiful, quiet Tsukishima commanded.

“Hey, Stupid we’re just trying to help!” Hinata screeched.

“And clearly he’s got a headache, you massive dolt. Keep your volume down,” Tsukki snapped back. Kuroo would thank him if the room would stop spinning.

Suddenly, a hand was on his forehead.

“You’ve got a fever,” Akaashi stated.

Oh. Well, Kenma was right after all. He was sick. The confirmation snapped something into place and all of his emotions, his control, whooshed out of him in one fell swoop. All the symptoms he ignored all day came to the very front of his mind and all he could think about was how miserable he felt.

“Oh,” he choked around the abrupt knot in his throat. He blinked his eyes open and turned to look at Akaashi. The setter was serious as ever, but there was a small frown on his lips and tiny furrow to his brows.

“Bokuto-san, can you bring me your warm up jacket?”

Bokuto nodded and quickly, but thankfully quietly, brought their jackets over and Akaashi draped it around Kuroo’s shoulders.

“Kuroo-san, do you want to lie down?” he soothed.

“Akaashi, I don’t feel good,” he muttered. There was a burning in his eyes and a quiver to his lips that he really wished would go away.

“I know. We’ll get you to your room, but first, I need you to get yourself together some.”

“I don’t...I don’t feel good,” he said, an all too evident shake in his voice. This is not what Leaders do. But he felt so terrible, there was nothing he could do to prevent this sudden onslaught of emotions. Before he knew it, warm tears rolled down his flushed cheeks.

“Kuroo-san!” Hinata screeched. Tsukishima smacked him upside the head. He glared and rubbed the back of his head.

“Kuroo-san,” he tried again, quieter this time, “don’t cry, please. It’s okay!”

Kuroo couldn’t help it. He appreciated Hinata’s attempts at comfort, but he was so drained and he was so sick and he couldn’t help it.

“Kuroo, what can we do to help, man?” Bokuto asked gently, much to his and Akaashi’s (flustered and very evident) surprise. He sat down by Kuroo and rubbed a hand soothingly up and down his back. It helped for a second, but then it just made his skin crawl and his stomach turn.

“I I don’t...I don’t know,” he whimpered pitifully, “I don’t feel good.” He exhaled and dropped his chin to his chest. The downward spiral of both his physical and mental condition brought him further and further into his own self-incurred misery. He needed someone else to be the leader. Anyone.

“Ahhhh, Kuroo-san.” Hinata flailed.

“What about Kenma?” Lev whisper-yelled. Hinata’s spine straightened sharply.

“Good idea, Lev! I know where he is. I’ll go get him!” Hinata proclaimed and ran out.

“Kuroo, what doesn’t feel good?” Bokuto asked.

Kuroo inhaled shakily.

“Head.. my head hurts. And I’m sore and uh and my st-stomach,” he responded through panting breaths.

“There’s a stomach bug that just hit a couple of the player’s on Shinzen’s team,” Tsukishima supplied helpfully.

“Sounds like you might’ve picked that up, Kuroo-san.” Akaashi clicked his tongue.

This was news to him. It must’ve just happened because usually the captains kept each other up to date on those kinds of things as soon as they could. If that was true, that would explain why it came on so quickly. He was fine yesterday. Even just a few hours ago, he was nothing but a little groggy. Now it felt like he got hit by a bus.

If it was a stomach bug, that meant….

“No, no,” he panicked, “no I don’t want that.” He wrapped his hands around his swirling stomach.

“Kuroo, calm down. It’s alright. You’re gonna make it worse,” Bokuto said. Kuroo shook his aching head.

“No I hate throwing up, Bo,” he whimpered and dropped his head to look at his shaking hands.

“Oh…” Akaashi breathed, “do you feel like you might?”

“I don’t know,” he said again. Because he didn’t want to. He absolutely did not want to puke. Not in front of these first years. That might ruin all of his credibility as an upperclassmen, let alone the Captain of a powerhouse school.

Geez, what a pitiful and pathetic display he was putting on. He was supposed to be someone these kids looked up to, and now they were helping him.

“Here,” Tsukishima said, handing Akaashi and Bokuto a bucket from the supply room. Kuroo eyed it distastefully.

“It’s just in case, Kuroo-san!” Lev tried. But the more Kuroo got worked up in spite of himself, the more he realized that wasn’t true. His current emotional state wreaked havoc on his head, which in turn twisted his gut.

Several minutes passed and Kuroo took the time to collect himself so that he could get it together enough to go to his room. At least there he could be miserable and pathetic alone.

While he was able to get himself to stop crying, the come down from the sudden rush of emotions only made his other symptoms that much more prevalent.

Kuroo groaned miserably, “where’s Kenma?”

“Hinata-kun has gone to get him. He’ll be back soon hopefully.”

“Akaashi, I don’t feel good,” he whined and curled tighter in on himself.

“I know,” Akaashi said.

“Feels… bad…” he swallowed thickly.

“Kuroo…” Tsukishima warned. He shook his head.

“‘M sorry,” he mumbled. Something heaved in his stomach and he pulled his shoulders up to his ears and brought the back of his hand to his mouth.

“Y’guys should go,” he said around the pool of saliva in his mouth and the heaviness of his jaw. Who he was talking to at this point, he wasn’t sure. He just knew that being around him right now was only asking to catch this. He also knew he was about to puke and he really wanted to try and maintain some of his dignity.

“Too late for that, numbskull. We’ve been around you for days. If we’re gonna catch it, we’re gonna catch it. Might as well make sure you don’t die,” Tsukishima said. Kuroo, behind his mounting nausea and hazy brain, was touched by his salty kouhai’s attempt at comfort.

“I think he meant he doesn’t want you to see him spew, Tsukkidude,” Bokuto murmured. His hand was still on Kuroo’s back and while it was more comforting than bothersome now, it also served to swirl things around in his stomach and brain. He nodded lethargically.

“Kuroo-san, if you could, uh— please, just, um...wait...for Kenma-san, I think it would make you feel, uh, better. To have him here, that is. Instead of...uh...me,” Akaashi stammered. Kuroo heard the nervousness in his voice and felt bad. There wasn’t much he could do to stave off the inevitable though.

“You squeamish, ‘Kaashi?” Bokuto asked.

“Uhhhh,” Akaashi hesitated, high pitched, “maybe a little.”

“Bo,” Kuroo panted, punctuated by a sick hiccup.

“I gotcha, buddy. Bucket’s right here,” Bokuto reassured and placed the bucket in his lap. “You can leave guys, I got this.” He said to the other three.

“Yeah...I’m gonna take you up on that,” Lev said uneasily. “Sorry Kuroo-san.” He bowed and then sprinted out of the gym. Tsukishima looked more hesitant, but ultimately bowed and left as well.

“Akaashi?” Bokuto said right as Kuroo spit into the bucket. The sounds of their conversation faded in and out with the rest of Kuroo’s surroundings. All he could fully register was the lump of something nasty moving up his chest. All he could see was the blinding red color of the bucket.

A few airy burps that grated his throat passed through his parted lips. He whimpered.

“It’s alright, Kuroo,” Bokuto’s voice filtered through the haze. He gagged.

It hurt. It hurt so badly. Each heave, gag and hiccup that plagued him for the next several moments.

Where was Kenma?

Kuroo coughed, hiccupped, and a small stream of vomit trailed out of his mouth. It wasn’t enough. It still hurt. He wheezed.

“Hey, Kuroo-san, try to take deep breaths,” Akaashi’s shaky voice commanded.

“Can’t,” he gasped, coughing up more bile.

Fuck he wanted this to be over.

Cough, gasp, puke. The painful, horrific cycle repeated for several tense minutes. It didn’t relieve any of his discomfort.

Bokuto patted his back and tried to offer comforting words. Akaashi wouldn’t look at Kuroo, but he was there, another steady presence to offer some grounding to Kuroo.

“Kuroo- san! I found Kenma!” Hinata’s voice cut through his misery. “He was in the shower. I’m sorry it took so long!”

“Kuro,” Kenma said, voice calm, blunt, comforting. He took Akaashi’s place at his side, his Snorlax slippers and ratty sweatpants taking up Kuroo’s peripheral.

“I don’ feel good,” Kuroo told him around the bile coating his mouth. Kenma put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

“I gathered that,” he said with amusement, “it’s okay. Just relax.”

Kuroo shook his head. Relaxing meant letting this happen. He did not want it to happen.

“Tetsu, don’t be an ass,” Kenma sighed, exasperated.

“Kenma,” he whimpered. The hand on his shoulder squeezed again.

“How long has he been like this?” Kenma directed at someone else in the room.

“About 15 minutes,” Akaashi’s shaky voice answered.

“Shit, Tetsuro, why didn’t you say anything sooner?” Kenma asked. Kuroo shook his head slowly.

“Didn’ re’lize,” he slurred. His stomach cramped and his inhaled sharply through his teeth and gripped tightly at his shirt. As soon as the cramp passed, he gagged, his body jolting forward.

“Uh, I’m gonna—I’m gonna go,” Hinata stuttered out and then Kuroo heard his tiny feet run from the gym.

“Can you two go get Nobuyuki and Yaku from the Nekoma quarters? I’m sure Lev is looking for them, but he’s an idiot,” Kenma demanded of Akaashi and Bokuto, the inflection behind his voice commanding and unwavering. It comforted Kuroo in ways he didn’t understand.

Despite how it appeared to onlookers, Kenma was alway the one taking care of Kuroo. More than Kuroo took care of him, anyway. The setter always knew exactly what Kuroo needed before he even said anything. He was passive most of the time, content to let things be, but stubborn and steadfast when he needed to be. Which was something that Kuroo was grateful for, too prone to letting his emotions take over. Kenma was a sturdy support for Kuroo when he was at his weakest.

“They’re gone, Testsu. Relax and let it happen. It’s just you and me,” Kenma told him. He put his forehead on the top of Kuroo’s matted, sweaty hair. The parts of Kenma’s hair that touched Kuroo were wet and cold. It felt nice. 

The uncharacteristic gentle action from Kenma made something in Kuroo’s chest twinge and he whimpered, fresh tears dropping into the bucket.

Kuroo could be himself with Kenma. He didn’t need to be the Captain or a Leader or an Extrovert or even an Introverted Extrovert. He could just be Kuroo.

“Just us, Tetsu,” Kenma said and pulled his head back.

Kuroo inhaled slowly, deeply and exhaled, trying to relax his shoulders and back. It didn’t take much more for his stomach to finally find relief.

A gurgling hiccup brought up a small stream of bile and he coughed. Another hiccup brought a little more. Then finally, he belched, wet and heady, and heaved, a much stronger torrent of disgusting vomit moving up his chest and out of his mouth.

“There ya go,” Kenma sighed. He moved Kuroo’s unruly hair, made more disgusting by the sheen of sweat covering his forehead, back and away from his face. Kuroo lurched forward with a gag, bringing up more of his dinner.

“Holy shit, Kuro, that’s some fever. I’m sorry you’ve felt so bad all day,” Kenma whispered. Kuroo shook his head, spitting out the nasty taste in his mouth, trying to find his breath before the next round. 

He didn’t get much of a chance before he heaved again.

“God,” he slurred between wretches.

“It’s alright. Calm down,” Kenma instructed.

He puked twice more before his stomach settled for the time being.

“Kenma...please…” he whispered, gesturing for him to move the bucket away.

“Here,” Kenma handed him a water, “drink this first. Rinse out your mouth.” Kuroo did as he was told and spit into the bucket. Kenma took it away after that and Kuroo thanked him quietly. He inhaled, bringing his head up and looking at Kenma for the first time since the setter got there.

Kenma’s eyebrows were furrowed ever so slightly, a subtle pout on his lips. He brushed Kuroo’s bangs back again.

“Thanks, Kenma,” he smiled weakly. Kenma clicked his tongue.

“You’re an idiot,” he sighed. It lacked any of its usual blunt edge.

“Kuroo!!” Kai called out, running into the gym. They were both wearing medical masks, a couple more in their hands.

“Hey,” he said sheepishly, a hand on the back of his neck.

“I knew something was wrong. You really are such a dumbass,” Yaku said, a hand on his hip and an eyebrow raised. He was as blunt as usual.

“Thanks, Yaku. You’re as gentle as ever.”

“Yeah, well. Can’t help it when you decide to push yourself to this point,” he said, turning his face away. “Idiot,” he added as an afterthought. Kuroo couldn’t see his cheeks behind his mask, but his ears were red.

“You alright Kenma? Here,” Kai asked and handed Kenma a mask. Kenma shook his head.

“Too late for that,” he sighed.

“Yeah, but several of Shinzen and Fukurodani’s players have gone down with the same thing as our fearless leader here. We’re trying to contain it so it doesn’t spread more,” Kai explained.

“Yeah. Exactly. You wear one too, Kuroo,” Yaku insisted. Kuroo didn’t like the idea of having his mouth covered, but he also didn’t like the idea of spreading this wretched fate to others.

Kenma and Kuroo took the masks and then Yaku pulled some meds out of the bag on his shoulder and handed them to him. Kuroo’s lip curled, but Kenma pinched his elbow and he relented. They hit his stomach with a hollow thud.

Kai held a hand out to help Kuroo up. As soon as he stood, his knees buckled and black spots danced in his vision. Kai quickly caught him around his waist and threw Kuroo’s arm around his shoulder.

“Try not to pass out until we get back to the quarantine room. It’d make things difficult,” Yaku said. Kuroo would’ve rolled his eyes if he had the energy.

Together, they made it back to the classrooms (repurposed as sleeping quarters for the camp). There was a room for people who already puked and one for anyone experiencing symptoms. Kuroo was shocked to find Akaashi there, leaning over a trash can, Bokuto rubbing his back, as well as several Shinzen players, a couple Ubugawa players, and the setter from Karasuno.

Hinata was there as well, sitting beside Kageyama with his arms crossed and a disgruntled look on his face.

Yaku set up a new futon for Kuroo and Kai helped him settle into it. He immediately curled up on his side, exhaling in relief.

They asked if he needed anything, promised to bring him a change of clothes, and left. Kenma saw them out but then came back and plopped himself down beside Kuroo.

“You can go, Kenma,” he said, looking up at him with one eye open. Kenma shrugged.

“I wouldn’t leave you,” he said plainly. Like it wasn’t embarrassing at all. Kuroo smiled to himself.

“What’s with Chibi-Chan?” He asked in lieu of a response. Kenma snickered.

“His team sent him here when Kageyama came down with the bug. Apparently their ��secret relationship” isn’t so secret.”

Kuroo chuckled. That was probably why Akaashi and Bokuto were both here as well.

“You know,” Kenma said.

“Hmm,” Kuroo replied sleepily.

“No one thinks you’re less of a Leader just because you’re sick. It happens to everyone. Doesn’t mean you’re not still someone other people look up to,” Kenma said quietly, matter-of-fact.

“Mmm.. you’re right,” he muttered back. He was. Kuroo knew that. He appreciated the reminder though.

“Go to sleep, Tetsu,” Kenma said and stretched his legs out beside Kuroo. He ran his fingers through Kuroo’s hair. Sleep called to him and his eyes slowly closed.

He woke up several times before the next morning, because of other people puking, because he needed to puke and once when Kenma puked, swearing Kuroo out for getting him sick.

He apologized profusely and pulled Kenma’s hair back with the hair tie he kept on his wrist.

Kuroo was a Leader. Someone other people liked and looked up to.

Sometimes Leaders needed someone to lean on too, he supposed. Thank goodness he had Kenma.

[quietmyfearswith]

i’ll drive ; august walker x fem!reader 2/3

status — completed series

word count —  5,933 words

warnings — SMUT, unprotected penetrative sex, soft!august, confused!august

pairing — august walker x fem!reader

a/n — so i had driving lessons last september and thought abt how wow it would make a great story if a driving instructor fell for their student,, and the og idea had in mind was that for a dark fic i might still do one though idk but i never really knew which character to do it for. then i was like what if he was pretending to be a driving instructor and since i just watched mi fallout sometime last month thought id be perfect for august!! sorry i couldn’t publish this any faster, had some things going on offline so yeah lmk what you think of this chapter. there’s only one chapter left!  Y/F/N = your father’s name

masterlist | series masterlist

“You want me to do what?” August scoffed as he read the mission file he was handed. Sloane raised a hand to the other agent who was about to explain it again; she knew that the Hammer would more likely accept the mission if she convinced him.

“We want you to pose as a driving instructor; from there you’ll be assigned to Y/N. Her father is Nick Roberts; do you recall who he is?” Nodding, August placed the folder on the desk and looked at Sloane with a scowl, “Yeah, I do. He transports Perez’ drugs and firearms in and out of the country; possibly close ties to even more underground activity.” 

“Suspected of transporting,” The other agent — August didn't bother remembering his name since he rarely got to work with him anyway — clarified. “And how will me posing as a driving instructor get us to Nick Roberts?”

“Nick Roberts is just an alias; his real name is Y/F/N, and the one you’ll be assigned in teaching is his daughter. You get close to her, you’ll be able to get to Roberts.” It seemed like too big of a stretch, August quietly reflected; what if she cut ties with her father? What if he really wasn’t her father?

“Considering this is the only lead we have so far on Perez’ case, I’ll do it,” He eventually conceded; Sloane was pleased with that as she smiled, “Very well, take that case file with you to familiarize yourself with Y/N. Your lessons with her will be from Monday to Friday, the whole of next week. Understood?”

With a nod, he grabbed the case file and stood up to exit the room. Heading to his office, he figured that it was best to find out what he can about this Y/N. He read about how she had graduated college and has been steadily working in her chosen profession. Since the separation of her parents she lived with her dad, and by the looks of it has a close bond with him. It was amusing to him how someone of her age still doesn’t know how to drive; but nevertheless it was a blessing in disguise that she didn’t since it helped with their case.

Though her case file had her passport and driving permit photo, August made a reckless decision to look up if she had any social media accounts; and she did. It wasn’t usual for him to look up their target’s social media accounts — in the past he would settle for the provided picture on the mission reports and from there familiarize himself with what they looked like — but there was an itch he needed to scratch. There was something about Y/N that motivated him to look at her photos, thankfully her account was on public. “Can’t wait to see you soon, love.”

Henry James was his alias for this mission and here he was leaning against the parked car as he was waiting for Y/N. He held his breath once the door opened and revealed a girl in a romper. “Hi! Are you Henry?” She was too cheerful in her greeting he noted; perhaps that had something to do with how young and innocent she was. Nodding sternly, “See anyone else beside me, sweetheart?”

She giggled at his remark as she tucked her hair behind her ear — a nervous habit she’d develop. “Go ahead and settle yourself on the front seat.” She nodded and made her way over to the driver’s seat. As she sat down, she placed her bag on the console, “You have your learning permit?” She grabbed the piece of paper that was in the pocket of her romper and handed it over to him; he thanked her as grabbed it and filled out the information he had, “Do you know what to do once you get in the car and onto the driver’s seat?” 

“Adjust the seat, adjust the mirrors, check the lights, and make sure I have gas,” She listed out as she did all of those. Clicking the pen once he’s filled in the necessary information he turned to her with a raised brow, “Aren’t you forgetting something?” Looking around her, she tried her best to recall the driving lessons she took and when nothing seemed missing to her she just shook her head no with a slight pout — August originally thought was a childish and foolish expression but she just made it look downright adorable.

Y/N held her breath as Henry leaned over to her so close that their noses nearly touched and his fingertips brushed against her skin as he grabbed the seatbelt, dragging it across her to click it in its place. She didn’t expect him to get that close to her, but she certainly wasn’t complaining when it gave her an up close view of how good he looked in that polo shirt; and the man too was surprised at his sudden move — he was debating with himself that he only did so to ensure her safety, just so she’d be alive and share about her father’s whereabouts, but there was this part of him that was convinced that he just wanted a reason to be close to her. “You’re forgetting the most important safety precaution, sweetheart; and that’s to wear your seatbelt.”

Smiling nervously at him she apologized to which he simply grunted at, “I trust you know how to start the engine?” Her confident persona surfaced, her right hand turned the key to start the car as her left hand rested on the wheel. “What do you need to do before pulling away?”

“Check the mirrors for any oncoming vehicles,” She glanced at the rear and side view mirrors, “Look over to your blind spot,” Twisting her head to look over her shoulder and verify that there was no one or nothing that was incoming, “Signal then drive away.” Turning on her signal light, she put the car from park to drive and began leaving her front yard.

August was impressed with her — for someone who was such a fumbling mess earlier was really focused on driving; he thought that was rare for a beginning driver, as they were far too excited at the thought of getting to go anywhere they wanted. “Good job. I have to say your focus is impeccable as well,” His compliment got her nervously saying thanks. “What’s the speed limit for residential areas?”

“30 kilometers per hour; Do I Just go straight?” They were nearing an intersection and she was told, “Yeah go straight; we’re not leaving the neighborhood just yet.” She nodded and just before she got to cross the intersection she hit the brakes smoothly as there was a stop sign. “One car there, still empty there,” Y/N took note as she moved her head left and right to check the traffic situation.

Once the road was clear she drove straight ahead and her instructor applauded her, “When you take the test, don’t be afraid to talk to yourself like that if it helps. And don’t forget to check if there was already a car from the opposite direction with a stop sign; know why?”

She nodded firmly as her eyes shifted from the road ahead, the rear view mirror, and the speedometer, “Because then they’d have right of way.” August noticed how the tone of her voice would differ; during the earlier part of their interaction, it was soft and low, but now as they drove around it was loud and clear. “When is your driver’s exam again?” He knew when she’d take it — he just thought that by asking that he’d somehow be able to milk information regarding her father.

“This Saturday,” She responded and it seemed that she was nervous about it given how her voice lowered again. “Turn right at the next intersection,” He ordered her. Seeing that she had no stop signs in her direction, she turned on the signal light and moved to the appropriate lane. Once she checked that there were no pedestrians crossing, moved to complete her turn.

“Notice how there weren’t any stop signs on two sides and yet there were on the two?” When she nodded he quizzed her again, “What does that mean?” Before answering him there were kids who were about to cross and she stepped on the brakes, coming to a complete stop and smiled as she signaled for the kids to cross. As she waved at the kids who smiled and yelled thank you she answered him, “Means that I have the right of way; even if someone arrives from the directions with stop signs they have to wait for me to pass before going on.”

“It’s great that you know the answers, some don’t,” He fed her some bullshit to which she bought as she softly laughed. “Well I don’t want to have to retake the exam,” Her lack of use of the word again caught his attention and was quick to ask about it, “This is really your first time taking the test?”

She nodded yes as she stopped at a four way stop, allowing a pickup truck that stopped before her. “How come?” Pressing her foot on the gas, she brought the car forward as she explained, “I don’t know really. My dad usually brings me to places or I take the public transport.” Bingo, August thought, here’s a chance to know more about his whereabouts. “And now? You’re dad can’t take you? Turn left on the next intersection.”

Nodding, she checked the pedestrian if there was someone crossing and stopped at the stop sign to check for any oncoming vehicles, “He’s so busy with work that he can’t. Especially now that he’s out of town.” Not enough information, August thought; but he thought that by asking more questions he’d come off as too nosy. “Do you know how to park uphill and downhill?” 

“I know which direction I have to turn the wheels to but I haven’t done that yet,” He nodded and instructed her on what to do. After teaching her how to do so properly, they took a break as August made some pointers over the things he observed as she drove. “It’s good that you keep your eyes moving around to check your surroundings; but don’t stay focused on one place for too long.”

Looking over at her, his heart beat fast with how her eyes looked wide and eager — and somehow he adored how innocent she looked, as she had no idea on what kind of world she got herself involved in ; it distracted him for a while but he managed to tear his gaze on her as he cleared his throat, “But sometimes you turn your signal light on too early, so be careful of that. And don’t stop too far from the stop line, that gives you demerit points.”

She nodded and took a mental note of everything he said, “What about with my parking?” Henry opened the door to check the distance of the car from the pavement, “You hill parking is good so far; not too close or too far. Think you can do parallel parking on that car on the next street?” Y/N eyes followed to where his finger pointed to a sedan that was parked, “Might need some help.”

Appreciating her honesty August reassured her, “Don’t worry I’ll guide you through it.” With his words she began to leave where she was parked and crossed the intersection. Once she was helped on the parallel parking process, her instructor beamed at her, “Good job, Y/N!”

“Thanks for your help, Henry,” The agent admittedly was caught off guard at the name she used— his dumb ass nearly corrected her and told him that wasn’t his name — he blamed it with how sweetly yet shyly she thanked him so that made him lose his concentration. “No worries,” He gruffly replied, which had Y/N found was odd with how his mood seemed to shift given his tone. 

“Why don’t we head back home but let’s go through the main road; know the speed limit over there?” She nodded her head as she answered, “60 kilometers per hour, but by Hammonds Avenue it reduces to 50.” Satisfied he rubbed his hands over his thighs, “Fantastic! Get on with it, love.”

Her breath hitched at the name he called her and she paused for a second before pulling away; August too had no idea where that came from but he just couldn’t help himself. The rest of the drive on the way home was filled with stiff and tortuous silence; the radio was not turned on since the agent deemed it would distract her from driving. “Do an uphill parking over here,” He pointed to her front porch. She nodded and poked her tongue out a bit as she concentrated on the task at hand. “Okay, now neutral, then all the way to the left.”

When she felt the tire hit the curb she smiled brightly and turned to Henry, “All done.” The proud expression on her face was so captivating that despite holding himself back he couldn’t prevent himself from mirroring her proud expression with a genuine smile, “You did well today, Y/N. Maybe next time you’ll be the one bringing your dad to work.”

August kept his fingers crossed that his jab would provide him with more information about it; and she partially did, “Not anytime soon though; he’s not due back for at least two weeks.” Despite being disappointed at the vague information he managed not to physically display it as he nodded, “Oh that’s too bad then,” He faked sympathy and unbuckled his seatbelt as she did the same, “Same time tomorrow for our lesson okay?” 

Nodding her head up and down, she grabbed her bag from the console and checked the road before exiting. “See you tomorrow, Henry,” She waved as they passed by each other as he walked over to the driver’s side. When their skins brushed, they both could feel a rush of electricity and it made Y/N nervously giggle and skipped away from him without even looking back at him due to how embarrassed she was. 

Whereas on the other hand August was confused; he never met someone who made him feel this way. The way she was looking or smiling at him had him weak in the knees; which was something he never experienced before. As she was swiftly entering her home, the Hammer found himself watching her as she did so; just need to make sure she gets home safely, he convinced himself. Though the rational part of himself argued back idiot, she’s already on her porch! What possible harm can come to her?

Once she got inside he finally got in the car and fished out his phone from the glove compartment to connect it to the radio and call Sloane as he began driving to his temporary apartment. After a few rings she picked up, “Walker? How was the first day?”

“Not too bad. Got some minimal information about Roberts,” He could hear faint footsteps on Sloane’s end of the call and inferred she had just gotten back from a meeting. “What have you found out then?”

“Apparently he’s out of town,” His boss’ disappointment with the information was heard through her long sigh, “Any idea when will he return? And to where he is?” He shook his head as he spoke, “Y/N said at least two weeks before he comes back from work out of town.” 

“Well that can’t be good,” No shit, August wanted to add but kept silent. “Is there any way you can remain in contact with Y/N even after your week of driving lessons are done?” Glaring at his phone the agent voiced his disbelief at what he was hearing, “Why should I pursue this lead? Can’t there be any other way to get to Roberts? What about his associates?”

Sloane let out an irritated sigh — one she rarely had to let out when she was talking to her best agent because he usually got the job done — before explaining, “His associates change; they come and go. We never really found a certain person or persons he works with. Y/N is the only constant person in his life and so if anything really she’s our only hope of bringing him in.” The silence from August’s end indicated that she got through his head.

“Now, is there any way you can remain in contact with Y/N even after your week of driving lessons?” He was now parked in the car park of his temporary base and he thought for a few seconds on how to answer her question. Call it impulsivity or whatever, but before he could even clearly think things through he found himself suggesting, “Perhaps I can ask her out on a date?”

In the years they’ve worked together, Sloane was always impressed and surprised with how August managed to accomplish each mission he assigned her successfully. But this one in particular, he surprised her with his suggestion; heck even August himself couldn’t believe the words that just left his mouth. “I just think that’s the cleanest way to play this one out,” He tried to defend his suggestion, “What other reason would a driving instructor have to remain in contact with their student right?”

The Hammer was cursing himself out with how feeble his justification was; Sloane on the other hand did find herself agreeing with him, “Do what you must.”

The rest of the week went by quickly and Y/N found herself looking forward to every driving lesson she had with her gorgeous instructor. And now that it was the last hour of the last day of their driving lessons, she couldn’t help but wish she got more time to spend with him. In the back of her mind she thought about failing the test in hopes that he’d help her out again. But then it would backfire quick if they sent a different instructor instead.

“Parallel park one last time with that Dodge over there,” His instructions brought her back from the plan she was hatching and going through. As she was executing his instructions, she failed to notice how instead of looking at what she was doing, Henry was observing every facial expression she was completing the task at hand. “There! How was that?” Her eyes staring back at him snapped him out of his entranced stare as he blinked a few times, “Oh well,” He opened the car door to check if the tires hit the curb and how far they were from the curb, “Good job, as usual. Though be careful when you turn the wheel to the right.”

She nodded slowly as she repeated his comment, “How do you feel about your exam tomorrow?” At the mention of her dreaded test she groaned a bit and he chuckled softly — he never saw her this stressed about the test in their previous lessons, so seeing her react this way was somewhat amusing to him. She looked at him with her lips slightly pouting and the skin in her forehead all wrinkled up, “I’m nervous about it; but at the same time I feel like I can do it?”

Henry’s left hand settled itself on her forearm as he affectionately rubbed her, as if he were trying to rid her of the stress and anxieties, “You’re gonna do great, love. Just calm yourself down before taking the test and don’t be afraid to talk to yourself as you drive if it helps you focus.” Y/N’s heartbeat sped up with how gentle he was; over the course of their lessons he came across as stern and rigid but this side of him was something she could get used to.

“How ‘bout you drive back home now, yeah?” She nodded and did so without trouble. August remembered how her father was gone and wondered who’d bring her to the test, “By the way, since you mentioned you dad was out of town, who’ll go with you then?”

Timidly smiling to herself she admitted, “I’ve asked some of my friends, but they all said how they had their own plans. I was gonna ask some of my coworkers and see how that goes.” Clicking his tongue with how unprepared she was, his mouth spit out, “Well how about I go with you then?” Before his brain could even analyze if that was the right thing to say.

Seeing as Y/N was driving she could only briefly glance at him, “You want to take me to the test?” August now backed himself against a wall and couldn’t find a way out, to hell with it, he thought to himself. “Way better than you driving illegally is it not?”

“That is true,” Y/N acknowledged, “But do you do that for all of your students?” Henry let out a laugh and her heart fluttered with how deep it was before he remarked, “Not for everyone, sweetheart, I’ll tell you that.” Feeling cocky with that she mused, “Then I must be special then?”

If you only knew, love, August thought to himself; while Y/N was scolding at herself for possibly flirting with her driving instructor. But technically he wouldn’t be on the day of her exam because their lessons ended, right? “Wanna know how special you really are?” He leaned his elbow on the console, bringing himself closer to her and he sensed how she held her breath as her body stiffened. Shaking her head was the only response she could offer as she was now focusing on parking the car in front of her house. 

After coming to a halt she turned over to him and looked at him with curious eyes; Henry then took it as his cue to speak, “You’re so special that should you pass your exam tomorrow, I want to take you out on a date.” Her eyes widened comically that August thought she was an inspiration for a cartoon character. And the agent wasn’t sure if what he was saying was spoken out of desperation for the mission to succeed or because he had taken interest in her.

It had taken her a few seconds before replying and the agent was surprised when she said, “Are you shitting me or is this actually real?” He rid the smirk he had on his face and replaced it with a serious expression, “This is real, sweetheart. Do you think I go around and grace my students with nicknames?” He took her avoiding eyes as a no and his hand grabbed her chin to get her to face him directly, “So do we have a deal, sweetheart? I take you out right after your test for a date, if you pass?”

August held his breath as she unhooked his hand from her chin and leaned over him, planting a kiss on his cheek. His blue eyes were now wide as she had a toothy grin once she pulled away and with a smirk of her own said, “We have a deal, Henry.”

August found himself tapping his leg as he stared at the wall clock, hoping that his domineering stare would make time go faster. Thirty minutes had passed since Y/N started her driving exam and the agent found himself reevaluating in the meantime. Was asking her out on a date the only way to get close to Roberts?

Of course it was, he thought, She said her father will return in two weeks. You’d only have to go out with her once a week and somehow bring him into their conversation and hopefully milk out more intel about him.

Seeing a man dressed in a flannel-patterned polo reeled him back into the present; trailing behind the man was Y/N who had a blank expression on her face. Furrowing his eyebrows he mouthed, “What happened?�� Anxiety coursed through his body but it quickly left his body as she winked at him and turned to follow the man. “Do you want to retain your picture from your permit or want to take another one?” He overheard the man ask Y/N, prompting August to relax and smile as he connected the dots — she passed her exam! 

But as he was mentally celebrating her success he found himself thinking about how he now had to take her out on the date he promised. It’s just for work, he deliberated, only going out with her to know more about her father. Nothing more, nothing less. However there was this thought nagging him on the back of his head that it wasn’t just for that reason he was taking her out.

Henry groaned as her lips sucked on the sweet spot on his neck as her nails were planted on his shoulders. His large hands alternated between squeezing and rubbing her ass as she grinded herself on his lap.

They found themselves in this situation after Y/N giddily squealed at August how she passed; the agent kissed her forehead as he told her how proud he was of her. As they went to their date he let her drive and as he settled on the passenger seat, his hand rested on her thigh, testing the waters to see if she was comfortable with it — and by the way her thighs pressed against each other, caging in his hand between them, he got the message that she welcomed it happily.

Even throughout the dinner, they both couldn’t get enough of each other. The skin of their arms remained so close to each other that it was as if they were glued to each other. Y/N was beginning to think that the only reason Henry ordered pasta was so he could eat with a single hand so his opposite hand can rest on her thigh. But she wasn’t complaining as she rested her thigh above his.

As they drove back to her place one thing led to another and it ended with Y/N climbing over the console and situating herself on Henry’s lap as their mouths captured each other’s. Y/N unbuttoned his shirt as her lips littered his chest with kisses, she’d linger sometimes in a certain spot long enough to leave marks. 

Rolling her hips in his lap, she felt his hard on pressing against her clothed crotch and moaned against his skin. When her dainty fingers were done unclasping the buttons that confined his toned and broad upper body, her hand travelled lower to palm his bulge and before she could open the zipper Henry caught her roaming hand with his, “I think doing this in your house is far better than some cramped up vehicle; don’t you think?”

A blissed out nod was all the response Y/N could give; with that affirmation August opened the door and carried the girl out and shut the car door with his foot. With her legs wrapped around his waist, she planted kisses all over her instructor’s face. She whined as she was put down but understood that it was her cue to unlock the door; though the man behind her was not making the task easy as he was nipping at the skin of her neck and his hands were rubbing her arms.

“Fucking finally,” August rasped out as Y/N managed to unlock the front door and they both hastily entered and the agent shut and locked the door behin him; he spun her to face him so he could rip off her shirt and he smirked as the girl whimpered, clearly turned on with what he did. “Such a naughty girl you are, aren’t you? Going out without even covering these nice tits.” Wrapping his mouth around a breast, she ran her fingers through his hair to encourage him with what he was doing. Without detaching his mouth from her tit and instead switching between the two, he took the initiative to lead them into her couch. 

Pushing her to lie on her back, August rid himself of his clothes; he was moving too quickly that Y/N didn’t have the time to take a good look at his chiseled body. Hovering above her, he smirked at her once he noticed her thighs were clenching, “You’re a desperate little thing, aren’t you?”

Pathetically nodding she grabbed at his shoulders, “Please touch me, Henry.” Snarking at her he tore her leggings and her panties had the same fate. Now that she was just as exposed as he was, August leaned down to lick downwards from her clit and to her pussy. “You taste heavenly, love.” He lapped at her more, needing to quench his thirst for her and curiosity of what she would taste like. “As much as I adore your taste I’m afraid this will have to wait,” Pushing away her legs that wrapped around his neck, he kissed his way up until he was face to face with her.

“Why not?” She whined as she clawed at his back, moaning as she felt the plain of his back muscles. He distracted her by kissing her deeply as his hand stroked his cock a few times before sliding it in her in one stroke. “That’s why,” He huskily answered against her lips; he moved so his knees touched her thighs, allowing him to rut into her properly.

August removed his lips from hers as he instead planted kisses on her neck as his hands toyed with her nipples and breasts; Y/N, on the other hand, was whining about how good he felt. The skin at the back of her thighs was rippling as he thrusted himself in and out of her rapidly and harshly; the top of his thighs hitting against the back of hers, “You feel so good, Henry. So thick and hard inside me.” The man smirked at her wails, loving how wrecked she sounded — in the back of his nasty brain he noted that this was his favorite version of her.

Her hands held onto his biceps, nails leaving harsh marks on his pale and sweaty skin; it turned August even more how her delicate hands couldn’t even wrap half the size of his arm. Her velvet and silk-like walls were squeezing into his cock so tight that it was triggering his orgasm already — the agent would usually last longer, but given how turned on he was coupled with the fact the past week edged him, he was already close to unloading his bottled up frustrations.

“You already got me almost cumming,” He hoarsely whispered in her ear, feeling her wrap her legs around him to pull her closer against him. That didn’t stop him from slamming into her pussy to the point his trimmed pubic hair rubbed against her clit, adding more friction and pleasure for the both of them. “Seems like you are too, love,” Both her nipples were then squeezed to tease her even more and August was just even more amused with how responsive her precious body was underneath him.

“Please Henry, make me cum. I wanna feel your cum all over me too,” She managed to gasp out in between breaths; the man above her growled when he heard how good she sounded as she begged and had no choice but to comply. He leaned down to suckle on her nipple as the other breast was being toyed by his hand. Her clit too received attention as it was being rubbed and pinched with his other hand. As his hips slammed against her thighs harshly and his cock railed her in swift and sharp thrusts, Y/N could only moan and roll her eyes at the simulations she was receiving.

The only warning she could provide him of her impending orgasm was her patting against his biceps as her walls unexpectedly clung to his dick tighter than ever and came around him. August didn’t relent and continued his animalistic pace, milking her orgasm and removing his mouth from her tit to stare at her blissed out and drowsy state provoked his orgasm as well.

“Fucking hell, love,” He groaned out as he slid in all the way inside her and didn’t thrust furthermore as he spilled his load inside her. With their foreheads touching against each other, they breathed against each other to calm themselves down. Y/N’s hands removed themselves from Henry’s biceps; instead she was now stroking his back, as if coaxing the large man above her to calm down. While August rested his hands on her sides, as if memorizing every inch of her skin.

Y/N squealed as she was being lifted up and carried into her bedroom. Contrary to how she was laid down on the couch roughly, her former driving instructor laid her down gently. Kissing her forehead he went to her ensuite bathroom and returned with a towel. Y/N looked at him with loving eyes as he wiped off their combined juices that spilled out of her delicious cunt. Throwing the towel on her hamper, he then laid beside her and August chuckled lightly with how quick the girl was to latch herself onto him for a cuddle — and he did open his arms to welcome her and wrapped them around her smaller figure.

“I hope you don’t do this with all your students?” Her comment had him humorously rolling his eyes and Y/N giggled at his antics. “No, I don’t, love. I promise,” He even held his pinky up for a pinky promise and she was more than eager to latch her pinky with his; bringing their tangled pinkies to his mouth, Henry placed a gentle kiss on them before untangling them so they could hold hands instead. “Well I guess I’m really special?”

Nodding, he lowered his head down a bit so he could kiss her deeply and passionately. Breaking their kiss August replied, “So special that I want to take you out again next week,” Without even disconnecting their lips.

Y/N sleepily mumbled, “I’d like that a lot, Henry.” Her eyes were starting to feel heavy and August kissed her forehead again, “Sleep, love. I’ll be here in the morning.” She nodded against him and did so. For the next few minutes, the CIA agent reflected his actions and decisions. He told Sloane that he’d ask Y/N out on a date only to remain in contact with her. That was it — a date.

But how the hell did he end up enjoying the date — let alone her company and herself — and then taking her to bed? This was a mess. He shouldn’t have slept with her for it would just complicate things. When August saw how she was steadily breathing, he moved out of the bed and rested her head on a pillow. He went out to her living room to look for his pants that he earlier discarded; grabbing for his phone he sent out a text to Sloane :

Secured a meetup with Y/N next week. Will try to fish out more information about Roberts.

He turned off his phone and put it back in his pocket. As he was staring at his scattered clothes, he was debating whether he should stay the night with Y/N or just leave right now. Even though he knew which option seemed like the most logical, he surprised himself. He went back to bed and cuddled Y/N close as he too began to drift off to dormancy — he stayed.

[jayeray-hq]

Tangled and Entwined

This is my NSFW Secret Santa piece for @candychronicles​ from the Haikyuu Headquarters server! Hello! We haven’t really interacted much, but I hope you enjoy this! I wasn’t entirely sure what you liked, hopefully it’s okay!

Want More Terushima? Check out my Character Masterlist!

Thanks again to the wonderful Tay @deathcab4daddy​ I really bombarded you with a lot of words, but you were amazing as usual! 😊💖

Warnings: 18+ minors dni! smut and fluff, bondage, slightly submissive Terushima, making out, grinding, female reader, biting, cunnilingus, teasing, blowjobs, edging, overstimulation, slight anal fingering (male), unprotected sex, creampie

5.1K words

It had started out innocently enough. It was your first holiday living together, and Terushima had insisted on going all out, making cookies, playing Christmas music, and decorating to celebrate. He’d dove into things so enthusiastically that you hadn’t had the heart to say no, and had been swept along by the tide of his holiday cheer.

You’d been in the kitchen working on icing a batch of cookies when an enormous crash and a string of swear words reached your ears. More than a bit concerned, you’d set your things down and made your way to the living room where your boyfriend was supposed to be decorating the tree.

             “Teru’?” you called a little confused as you entered the room only to find it completely empty of your energetic boyfriend, who’d been bouncing around the house like an overly energetic puppy all morning, belting out song lyrics at the top of his lungs, “Yuuji, where are you?”

             “Here,” he answered, his voice tinged with an unhappy note that let you know even before you rounded the couch that he was pouting, and the sight that met your eyes told you exactly why that was. Somehow, someway, your boyfriend had gotten himself completely tangled up in an extremely long strand of lights, which were wrapped tight around his torso, trapping one of his arms to his side and the other above his head, one of his legs was also thoroughly tangled the lights looped several times around his thigh and calf.

             “Having a little trouble?” you asked, trying desperately to hold back the laughter that was threatening to burst from your lips at the sight of him.

             “It’s not funny,” he grumbled twitching slightly, clearly trying to free himself from his predicament, but failing, reminding you a bit of a fish caught in a net.

             It had taken all your willpower to hold back, but you simply couldn’t any more. Laughter burst from your lips as you clung desperately to the furniture to keep yourself upright. You weren’t ever going to let him live this down. Luckily, your boyfriend had always been the good-natured type and eventually managed to smile back at you despite his predicament, clearly amused by your reaction.

 He even let you snap several pictures of him on your phone without complaint, sticking his tongue out to show off the green metal tongue piercing he’d put in specifically for Christmas. He’d insisted it was his own way of showing holiday spirit, though personally you were pretty sure he’d just thought it had looked cool and bought it on impulse.

 “Alright, kitty, you’ve had your fun,” he told you with a playful pout on his lips, “Now help me out, would you?”

 “Okay, okay,” you conceded with a smile, leaning down to press a light peck to his lips.

 As per usual, when you went to kiss Terushima, he wasn’t about to let you get away with a simple peck, his lips chasing after yours, the warmth of his mouth too sweet and enticing to resist. He tasted like peppermint and chocolate, likely from the hot cocoa he’d been drinking earlier, and you couldn’t seem to resist.

 His lips curled beneath yours in a pleased smile, as you brought one of your hands up to gently cup his face, deepening the kiss, and holding him to you as your other hand supported his neck, fingertips brushing over the soft fuzz of his undercut at the nape of his heck.

 His mouth opened eagerly under yours, happy to welcome you, skilled tongue darting out to lick its way into yours, the hot, wet appendage stroking over yours. The feel of the metal ball of his tongue piercing was familiar by now, unlike the first few times you’d kissed like this and it had taken you by surprise, but the sensation never failed to make you shiver in anticipatory pleasure.

 Each swipe of his skilled tongue against yours sent small spikes of arousal through you, and you hummed in pleasure against his mouth. When you finally parted from him, you were utterly breathless as you panted against him.

 “Naughty,” you scolded a little breathless as you peered into his eyes, forehead resting against his.

 “You love it, kitty,” he insisted a smug grin on his lips, a little breathless himself.

 You hummed in agreement, and shifted so that you were straddling his body, your hips automatically moving to his, and finding a very clear indication of how much he too had been enjoying things. Not that it was difficult, your boyfriend was always eager for you, the day Terushima Yuuji said no to sex would be the day pigs flew.

 “You love it too,” you countered, grinding your hips down on him for emphasis, earning a low, raspy moan of pleasure, from your boyfriend, his whole body jolting as he tried to reach for you, but failed, too tangled in the Christmas lights to move.

 “Never denied it,” he told you with his signature tongue lolling grin, the kind meant to show off the tongue piercing he was still stupidly proud of even all these years later, “So why don’t you help me get untangled and I’ll show you just how much I loved it.”

 You glanced at him, considering, your eyes roaming over him as you sat up so you could see him properly. There was something about him like this that was incredibly appealing. The bright red band t-shirt he’d worn to decorate had risen part way up his chest and was stuck there, exposing the nicely chiseled abs he fastidiously maintained, and the muscles in the arm trapped above his head were taut and straining slightly against the wires. His dark jeans had slipped low on his hips, exposing the nice V cut of his hips, and the dark green elastic of his underwear, and the dark treasure trail that led from his belly button and disappeared enticingly into his pants.

 “Hmm, no,” you eventually told him, after returning your gaze to his, earning a surprised stutter from your boyfriend, the smug look slipping off his face, leaving sputtering confusion in its wake.

 “No?” he asked utterly baffled, “But kitty…?!”

 “No,” you repeated firmly, untangling his arm from where it had been crushed against his side just enough so that it could be lifted above his head, then looping the lights around both his wrists for good measure to keep him pinned there, grinding your hips down on his erection, savoring the way the seam of his jeans rubbed right up against your clit through the thin leggings you were wearing.

 “Stay still, Yuuji,” you warned teasingly, unable to help the smug grin on your lips as your boyfriend watched you with unabashed awe and desire on his face, “Be extra nice for me, and I’ll give you an early gift.”

 “I’ll be good,” he swore vehemently, an excited grin splitting his face, “I’ll be so good!”

 “You’d better,” you told him, leaning down to capture his lips in a heated kiss, one he responded to eagerly, his mouth opening easily, hot, wet, and fervent as you pressed a series of open-mouthed kisses on him before trailing up his jaw kissing and nipping at the skin as you went.

 You moved your hips against him in a slow rhythm, enjoying the feeling of him between your legs. He was loud as usual, moaning unashamedly and doing his best to thrust up beneath you undulating and writhing in a way you couldn’t help but find extremely sexy.

 “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he grunted, breathless and eager, as you nipped at the skin of his neck, kissing, licking and suckling at it. Normally, you were fairly careful about leaving marks on him, mostly for your own sake. He didn’t care a single bit about it, and was happy to show any hickies you gave him off to the world. He’d even brag about them if he got the opportunity, but you were a little more circumspect.

 It meant you had to be the one to control yourself usually for both your sakes and your own dignity, but seeing how close it was to Christmas, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Instead you marked him up thoroughly, tossing caution to the wind as you nipped at the skin at the junction of his neck right where the collar of his t-shirt hit, pulling it back, stretching the fabric to give you better access to his skin.

 “Whoa, kitty, you really like this, huh?” your boyfriend asked even as he panted for breath unable to help teasing you despite how helpless he was, “Me, bound and helpless for you?”

 You bit down hard in response, not enough to pierce the skin, but enough to be slightly painful, earning a garbled shout of surprise, his hips automatically bucking into yours, and a deep desperate groan escaping his lips. You smirked into his neck even as you laved over the nice bite mark you’d left on his skin, one that would no doubt leave a deep bruise. You’d known from the beginning that Terushima liked a little pain along with his pleasure every once in a while. You just hadn’t realized quite how much he liked it before.

             “What did I say about being naughty, Yuuji,” you purred teasingly into his ear, nipping lightly at the lobe and teasing the piercings with your tongue, “Be nice for me now.”

             “Fuck yes, kitty,” he groaned in response.

             You hummed in pleasure and sat back, grinding down on him again and earning a whimpered moan as you pulled the oversized sweater you’d been wearing up over your head and tossed it to the side. The way he looked at you never failed to make you feel sexy and appreciated. Terushima wasn’t the kind of guy who held back, and his chocolate colored eyes were dark with desire as he let them roam over your exposed torso.

             In turn you carefully hiked his shirt up, pulling it through the strings of lights wrapped taught over his chest so that it was bunched over his collar bones, admiring the way the soft white lights lit his peach colored skin, framing each ridge and dip of his chiseled muscle and caught on the glinting metal that framed his dusky brown nipples.

             You leaned forward unable to help yourself, determined to mark him up just as thoroughly here as you’d done to his neck. One of your hands automatically moved up to gently tug at the piercing through his left nipple, playing with the little metal balls and teasing the tip with the pad of your thumb, hoping to coax some more noise from him.

             He eagerly obliged, curses and moans escaping his lips as he wriggled against his bonds, each sound sending bolts of heat through you making you grind helplessly into him. Your panties were damp between your thighs, no doubt soaked with your desire for him.

             “Like that?” you teased, nipping at the taught skin of his chest and flicking your tongue playfully over his other nipple, rolling the little balls around and enjoying the weight and feel of it as you sucked it into your mouth.

             “Fuck yeah kitty, you know I do,” he panted, his hips jolting and bucking helplessly with every nip and flick of your tongue, seeking friction between your thighs. The flush of his skin, and the breathless way he spoke making you feel utterly electric. Your own body flush with desire and arousal slick between your thighs.

             “Then why don’t you show me?” you asked, your eyes catching on the glinting metal of his tongue as he spoke, desire to have the talented appendage between your thighs coursing through you. You wriggled your leggings and underwear down off your hips, and kicking them away as he grinned at you, clearly picking up on what you wanted.

             “Hell yeah, pretty kitty, come up here and let me show you just how nice I can be,” he ordered, a self-assured smirk on his face as he waggled his tongue at you teasingly, still utterly cocky despite the fact that he was tied up and helpless.

             Still, he wouldn’t be Terushima without the attitude, and you had to admit even if it did drive you crazy at times, other times you found it incredibly attractive. This was one of those times, even if you did roll your eyes at him first, unable to help the amused smile that tugged your lips upwards even as you crawled up his body.

             You hovered over his face hesitantly for a moment, a little worried about smothering him. Normally when you did this his hands were free, and he was the one holding you down. He’d normally dig his hands into your thighs and press his face as close as he could get to you and use his talented tongue to make you cum over and over again until you were a shaking mess of overstimulation.

             This time though his hands were a bit preoccupied and you had absolutely no intention of letting them free. Instead you slipped one of your hands into his and ordered, “Pinch me if you need me to get up.”

             “Yeah right whatever,” he agreed unbothered, “Now come here, kitty.”

             You rolled your eyes again at his careless demeanor but did as ordered, lowering yourself over his face, your thighs spread wide to accommodate the arms held above his head. You let out a choked moan as he immediately dove in. Terushima had always eaten you out like a man starved, desperate to taste you, eager for every little bit of arousal he could pull from you.

             It was always an incredible experience and he knew it too. The man was a god at oral sex, not that you’d ever tell him that lest his ego grow even larger than it already was. He used his tongue piercing with skill, letting you feel the contrast in texture as he traced it over your folds, and lapped at your hold, drinking in your essence.

             “Yuuji,” you groaned, shuddering above him your hips jolting in an aborted movement as he flicked his skilled tongue over your entrance, his nose nuzzling against your clit, doing your best to speak, well aware that he liked to hear you talk when he did this for you, “Feels good, just like that for me, baby.”

             He speared his tongue into you, the sensation making you shake and writhe above him, a litany of moans escaping your lips as you praised him, “Your tongue is so amazing Yuuji, fuck, so good, so good.”

             He sucked and slurped at your folds, the sounds he was making utterly obscene, as he moaned into you, clearly enjoying it just as much as you were. Your hips were making tiny helpless thrusts against his face, seeking more as he ate you out thoroughly enough to make your thighs quake with desire.

             The sensation of it all was too much and quickly sent you tipping over the edge, your orgasm crashing through you, making you glad you had hold of him to ground yourself. He continued to lick and suck at you through it, not letting up for even a second making you whimper as you fought to get your shaking thighs to cooperate so you could pull yourself away.

             “Hey no come back, kitty. I wasn’t done,” he whined unhappily, lifting his head to try to chase you but unable to his arms jerking in a belated movement, clearly trying to grab hold of you.

             “Don’t you want your reward for being so nice to me, Yuuji?” you asked him, a little breathless as you shuffled back and away.

             “I was getting my reward already,” he informed you looking more than a bit smug, his face shiny from your release, “So come back here.”

             “I don’t think so,” you told him with a wry grin. Honestly, you should’ve known he’d say something like that, the cocky little jerk that he was. Still you weren’t about to let him have his way, he was the one tied up, you were the one meant to have your way with him.

             You didn’t give him a chance to protest as you slipped further down so you were straddling his thighs, palming the prominent bulge you found there, and earning a low groan from your sexy boyfriend. It took seconds to undo the belt he was wearing and flick open the button and zipper.

             “Really, Yuuji?” you asked, as you smiled a little in helpless amusement at the boxers he was wearing, which were a dark green and covered in little candy canes and Santa faces.

             “Santa is a sexy man,” he informed you with a teasing grin, completely unashamed, “And so am I.”

             “If you say so,” you agreed with a giggle, tugging his jeans and boxers down. They couldn’t go far because of the string of lights wrapped tight around one of his thighs, but far enough that you could free his erection, which sprang free, resting hard, flushed, and eager against his muscled abdomen.

             “Mm, I guess you are pretty sexy,” you conceded running your hands over his muscled thighs, enjoying the way the muscle flexed under your palms and the way his cock twitched in interest as you traced your thumbs over the sensitive skin on his inner thighs.

             “Fuck yeah I am,” he told you with a smug grin, one that made you want to wipe that cocky expression right off his face. You knew just now to do it too.

             Slowly you leaned down and began to kiss at his thighs, one of your hands reaching up to smooth over the firm muscle of his abs, and the other holding his hips in place. You worked slowly, laving your tongue over the muscle, kissing and nipping, enjoying the way they twitched and jumped with every sharp sensation.

             Your thumb traced circles on his hipbone as his cock twitched helplessly against his belly, the flushed tip smearing precum all over him. You refused to touch it, instead lowering your hand to gently squeeze his full sack, rolling it in your hand, massaging the heavy balls.

             Above you, Terushima was getting loud again, a string of curses leaving his lips in between low moans as your hand slipped lower. You teased the sensitive skin of his perineum with the tip of your index finger, making his hips jolt in pleasure, a surprised whine leaving his lips, the sound making you throb with desire.

             You carefully traced the sensitive pucker of his ass with your finger, pressing on it, teasing just the tip into his entrance, only your firm grip on his hips keeping him from writhing under your ministrations. You found a spot on his thigh that you liked, one you knew would brush up against the inner seam of his jeans and nipped at it several times in succession, hoping to leave a nice thorough mark that would remind him of you every time he moved later.

             “Tease,” your boyfriend accused, the word lacking any sort of sting with how breathlessly he said it.

             “You deserve it,” you told him, lifting your head up so you could look him in the eye even as you continued to tease your finger around his sensitive rim. There was a definite flush to his cheeks, the sheen of sweat on his skin making his golden blond hair stick to his forehead.

             “I thought I was nice,” he protested, a quiet gasp escaping his lips as your hand left his pucker to tease his perineum again.

             “You were nice,” you agreed with a grin, your body humming with arousal from the power you had over him, and the beautiful way he was responding to your every movement, “But then you were naughty right after.”

             “I wasn’t nngh!” he cut off with a groan of helpless pleasure as you finally wrapped your hand around the base of his desperate cock and slowly began to pump him, in long slow strokes.

             “You were,” you corrected, a little entranced with the sounds he made as you swiped your thumb over the sensitive head, gathering the moisture there and using it to help ease the passage of your hand over him, “But that’s okay, because I know exactly what to do with naughty boys.”

             “Oh yeah?” your boyfriend asked, the words probably meant to sound self-assured but coming out eager and breathy with desire instead.

             “Uh-huh,” you agreed, dipping your head to lick a long stripe along the sensitive underside of his cock, making his hips buck helplessly into the air, a shuddering gasp escaping his lips.

             You teased your tongue over the mushroomed head, exploring the sensitive ridge there, savoring the taste of him and the heavy feeling of him on your tongue as you sucked the tip into your mouth. He moaned above you as you continued to work him over, doing all the things you knew he loved, gently grazing your teeth over him, the feel of it making him shudder.

             You allowed yourself to drool all over him, peering up at him through your lashes and making pleased humming sounds around him as you took what you could into your mouth, your hand working the places where you couldn’t quite reach. His lips were parted as he panted for breath, his eyes locked on you, a fascinated awed look on his face that was utterly intent and flushed with desire.

             It was the same look he always gave you, as if he almost couldn’t believe that you’d do something like this for him, despite how eagerly he always went down on you. It made you even more eager to please him, because you knew, despite how utterly cocksure he acted, Terushima worshipped the ground you walked on.

 Experience meant you knew exactly when he was going to cum as you worked him up, only to pull back at the very last second making him whine unhappily as you removed your mouth, helpless confusion painting over his features. It was almost enough to make you feel bad, right up until you remembered the cocky look he’d worn not even five minutes prior and reminded yourself he definitely deserved this. Instead you slowly stroked your hand over him, not quite giving him enough stimulus to cum, but enough to keep him dancing close to the edge.

 “You look good like this, Yuuji,” you praised, well aware he had a bit of a praise kink, “all tied up for me, hard and needy.”

 “Kitty, kitty please,” he groaned, his cock flushed and weeping in your palms, hips shifting helplessly unable to move far because of the way he was tangled, seeking more friction.

 “Not yet, Yuuji,” you cooed at him, “Not yet, hold on for me, won’t you?”

 He groaned, low and deep as you slid up his chest, your hand still working him over, as you caught his lips in a messy kiss, one he eagerly dove into, clearly trying to distract himself from your teasing. You let him, enjoying the taste of yourself on his lips, one you were well accustomed to by now given how much he enjoyed eating you out.

 Threading your free hand through his hair, you tugged at it, knowing how much he enjoyed it as you allowed him to plunder your mouth. However, you didn’t let him distract you enough that you couldn’t tell when he got close to the edge again. You knew him too well for that, and instead pulled back again, leaving him untouched, his cock twitching desperately against his abs as he writhed searching for friction.

 A needy whine left his lips, the sound sending a bolt of heat through you. He was worked up and desperate, but the noises he was making were getting to you. You could feel an ache between your legs, your walls clenching around nothing, practically begging to be filled with your boyfriend’s thick cock.

 “Please,” he begged between kisses, completely unashamed at how desperate he sounded, brazen as ever even when he was needy, “please, please, please. I won’t be naughty this time. I’ll be nice!”

 “That’s what you always say,” you scolded lightly, even as you pulled away from his mouth, so you could resettle yourself over his hips giving in to both his need and your own. The two of you groaned in unison as you slowly sank down on his thick length, the feel of him inside you, stretching and filling you enough to make your breath catch in pleasure.

 “I mean it,” Terushima managed to gasp out as you began to slowly roll your hips, savoring the feel of him inside you, swiveling to ensure he hit all the right spots.

 “Then prove it, be nice for me now,” you challenged, “And don’t you dare cum until I do.”

 “Only if you let me see your tits, kitty,” he counter offered, breathlessly, brazen as ever.

 “I don’t think you’re really in a position to be making demands here,” you told him, amused at his audacity, purposefully clenching around him and earning a low moan of pleasure.

 “Please kitty?” he begged, dark eyes locked on yours, giving you the best pout, he could muster under the circumstances, “It’s Christmas, right? Season of giving?”

             You huffed at that, amused at the sheer cheek, but in the end, you caved, reaching around to undo your bra, and shrugging it off your shoulders, letting your breasts bounce free. Terushima’s eyes immediately went to them, tongue darting out, clearly desperate to taste you.

 Your hands immediately went up to them, figuring you might as well give him a show, squeezing and fondling them, in the way that felt best to you, pushing them up and together for him to see. Your fingers plucked at your nipples, teasing both him and yourself, your hips speeding up inadvertently, chasing your pleasure as you watched him watch you.

 His hips gave aborted, shallow thrusts, clearly desperately trying to match you and chase his own pleasure, making the muscles in this abdomen ripple and glisten in the light given off by the tiny bulbs on the string. Several red marks where the wire dug into his skin as he’d thrashed against his bonds had appeared crisscrossing his skin beautifully. His face was a mask of desire, want, and affection intertwined and clear for anyone to see.

 You honestly thought you’d never seen anything quite as appealing as he was in that moment, as you chased your pleasure, one of your hands sneaking down under his watchful gaze to toy with your clit as you rode him. The sight was clearly too much for your boyfriend, who you could clearly see was right on the edge. However, you were too worked up yourself to want to back down, instead pushing harder, chasing your own pleasure.

 You felt him begin to cum inside you, hot liquid splashing against your insides, but continued to ride him. Your own ending was close, though you purposefully pulled your hand away from your clit and your breasts, prolonging it as best you could.

 “T-too much, kitty, too much,” he whined at you, not that you were at all inclined to listen to him.

 “It’s your own fault, Yuuji,” you scolded breathlessly, “We had a deal, and you couldn’t keep up your end of it, which means you get to stay just like this until I cum.”

 “Fuck, fuck kitty, feels so good, it hurts, but it feels so good,” he moaned at you, his teeth digging into his bottom lip, eyes squeezed shut and his hands clenched into fists. His hips shifted as much as they could under you, though whether he was trying to meet you, or shrink away you couldn’t tell.

 “I know you like it, Yuuji,” you teased, “You think you can cum again for me?”

 Your challenge made his eyes pop open, staring at you in surprise as you reached forward, your nails digging into his chest, earning a broken moan from your boyfriend, whose cock twitched inside you at the sensation. You tugged lightly at his nipples, conscious not to yank as you played with the piercings, the pleasure making him whine.

 He felt so good inside you, thick and hard and perfect, curved just enough to brush along the front of your walls with every thrust. The sound of your hips on his was utterly obscene, the sound filling the room along with a litany of gasping breaths and moans, mingling in the air between the two of you, sending fissions of desire along your spine.

 Your own end was getting close, as you chased after it, your movements becoming slightly sloppy as you rode him desperately. Your back arched as you swiveled your hips in just the right way to push you over the edge, your walls clamping down hard on his cock, milking him for all he was worth. A choked moan left your throat, as you felt him begin to cum once more, your name spilling from his lips like a prayer as you collapsed on his chest.

 You lay there for several moments catching your breath but it wasn’t nearly as comfortable as it usually was and you couldn’t stay for long. Instead you pushed yourself back up, wincing slightly at the way the bulbs had dug into your skin. Terushima looked just as wrung out as you felt, still flushed and panting as he watched you with clear adoration in his eyes.

 You pressed a quick affectionate kiss to his lips, and slowly began to carefully untangle him from the lights, managing to free his wrists and arms, so he could help you with the rest. He had a few deep red lines across his skin from where the wires had dug in slightly when he thrashed, and his chest, neck and thighs were awash with the marks you’d left in your wake. He looked well and truly fucked, and from the smirk on his face, he knew it too.

 “Next time, you get to be the one tied up,” he managed to tease, a cocky grin on his face as he carefully helped you pull yourself off his softening cock, pulling his t-shirt up over his head and tossing it to you to help clean yourself up with, uncaring about the mess.

 “Fine by me,” you agreed, more than willing to switch and let him take care of you, “But not with the lights next time, as it is, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to look at them the same way ever again.”

 He grinned at you, completely recovered and utterly unashamed as he waggled his eyebrows and asked, “Then how do you feel about tinsel, kitty?”

[melisa-may-taylor72]

QUEEN BEFORE QUEEN

THE 1960s RECORDINGS

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PART 1:

BRIAN MAY, 1984 & THE LEFT HANDED MARRIAGE

JOHN S. STUART AND ANDY DAVIS DIG DEEP TO UNCOVER THE PREVIOUSLY UNDOCUMENTED AUDIO LEGACY OF ONE OF THE WORLD’S MOST CHERISHED BANDS.

This month the beginning and end of Queen come together like the cosy ending of a contrived Hollywood drama. While fans wait with bated breath for the band’s final album, “Made In Heaven" — completed by Brian May, John Deacon and Roger Taylor with the aid of Freddie Mercury’s last demos — author Mark Hodkinson launches a new book in which, in greater detail than has ever been attempted before, delves into the pre-fame histories of Queen’s musical antecedents.

With previously unpublished photographs of Roger Taylor's the Reaction, John Deacon’s the Opposítion and even more impressively, Freddie Mercury’s Sour Milk Sea, ‘Queen The Early Years’ is a treat fans have waited too long to read. Coincidentally, six months ago, we commissioned Queen historian, John S. Stuart, to research the definitive article on the band’s pre-fame recordings, and as you’ll see, the results complement Hodkinson’s broader picture with hitherto undocumented details of Queen's 60s recordings.

We've touched on Larry Lurex and Smile before, of course, but the vinyl output of those two acts barely scratches the surface, so to speak: literally hours and hours of privately- recorded material of Freddie, Brian, John and Roger survive to this day — as evidenced by the recent discovery of the Reaction’s ‘In The Midnight Hour’ acetate ( see RC 191). So, while the rest of the world comes to terms with the fact that Queen’s recording career is effectively at an end, we unravel the untold history of four individuals' first tentative steps in front of the microphone, beginning with the 1960′s exploits of Brian May. Next month, we’ll embrace Smile, and John, Roger and Freddie's hidden amateur recordings; but first, 1984 and the Left Handed Marriage.

1984

Around late August, or early September 1963, as the Beatles celebrated the birth of Beatlemania with sessions for their “With The Beatles” LP at EMI’s Abbey Road Studios in North London, another rock legend was developing just around the geographical corner. In a semi-detached house in Feltham, Middlesex, electronics engineer Harold May began an 18-month task, helping his sixteen-year-...[ ]

[ ]...old son, Brian, to construct the world's most famous home-made guitar, the ‘Red Special'. In the mean time, Brian would have to be con­tent with thrashing away at the small Spanish acoustic his parents had bought him for his seventh birthday. (Brian evidently mislaid this childhood guitar shortly afterwards; and didn't see it again until 1991, when at a ‘reunion’ of former members of 1984, his schoolfriend and first musical collaborator, Dave Dilloway, returned it to him. Brian was so thrilled, that he featured the guitar in the video for Queen’s “Headlong" single).

By 1964, Brian and Dave Dilloway were already recording amateur duets together, and by linking up their two reel-to-reel tape docks, they discovered that they could lay down guitars on one machine, and perhaps bass, percussion and sometimes vocals on the other. Although the technique was crude, and despite the occasional disaster, the effect was often surprisingly good. One of the earliest tapes from these primitive recording sessions survives to this day, and features Brian belting out Bo Diddley’s eponymous R&B standard, "Bo Diddley".

“This is a mono quarter-inch, reel-to-reel I found buried among various other oddments from the era”,  recalls Dave Dilloway. “It certanly dates from before the formation of 1984. It was recorded in Brian’s back room in Feltham, with Brian on lead vocals and guitar, and myself on bass and drums. The track is basic, but Brian’s vocals are clear and recognisable. The guitar playing is fairly basic as well, but competent, without any real solos as such”.

“ This is the only tape in my collection of those double-track recordings. I’m unsure whether Brian himself has retained the tapes we made at the time, but I believe he usually ended up with the finished versions, so he may still heve them somewhere.”

 The duo also recorded four-track instru­mental cover versions of several Shadows tunes — “Apache”, “FBI”, "Wonderful Land” and "The Rise  And Fall Of Fingel Blunt” — as well as “Rambunkshush”, which they learned from the Shadows’ American counterparts, The Ventures.  Also on the same tape is their reading of Chet Atkins' “Windy And Warm".

 Yet another reel reveals an attempt at Cliff Richard’s "Bachelor Boy", on which Brian, once again, takes the lead vocal. Dave Dilloway's theory is probably correctt; May is known to have a meticulously catalogued personal collection of Queen (and pre-Queen) recordings and memorabilia, which almost certanlly contains unfathomable reels of similar early material.

In the autumn of 1964, Brian and Dave formed a rapidly-evolving band, through which many schoolmates passed, but which eventually settled with a line-up of bassist John 'Jag' Garnham, drummer Richard Thompson, and harmonica-playing vocalist Tim Staffell. After rejecting names such as the Mind Boggles and Bob Chappy & the Beetles, the quintet named themselves after George Orwell’s futuristic novel ‘1984’. Their look was far from sci-fi, however, and they happily adopted the classic, clean-cut beat- group look of the day: jackets, or in Brian's case a cardigan, and narrow trousers; and beat boots. Tim Staffell even acquired that year’s fashion accessory, a pork-pie hat.

The band rehearsed regularly at Chase Bridge Primary School Hall in Twickenham (located next to the rugby ground), and on the 28th October 1964, gave their first public performance at the nearby St. Mary’s Church Hall. It is believed that either one of the rehearsals, or the gig itself, was recorded, but unfortunately, no tape of this debut, perform­ance has survived the years. Although 1984 recorded almost all of their live concerts for their own critical appraisal, to save on the expense of new tape they often wiped over old reels once they’d listened to them. Nevertheless, evidence of Brian May playing live does survive from this period, and the earliest example dates from an unknown gig (Shepperton Rowing Club is the favoured consensus), recorded in late 1965. This wasn’t a 1984 performance, but rather an ad-hoc trio comprising Brian May on bass and vocals, Pete ‘Woolly’ Hammerton (a school friend of Brian’s) on guitar and vocals, and 1984's Richard Thompson on drums. The tape reveals the trio turning in versions of Martha & the Vandellas’ “Dancing In The Street", the Beatles' “Eight Days A Week”, “I’m Taking Her Home” — a song by the group Woolly later joined, the Others — and a brave attempt at the Who’s "My Generation".

The Others comprised older boys from Hampton School, who in October 1964 had issued a single of their abrasive reading of Bo Diddley’s “Oh Yeah", backed by “I’m Taking Her Home", on Fontana (TF 501). “That was good!" claims singer, Tim Staffell. “I’ve still got that record buried somewhere deep in my mind — I remember the singer, Paul Stewart's voice and the quality of the guitar sound. The Others were a pretty significant influence. Maybe not in terms of the music, more in the sense that they were already doing it, which proved it was possible."

As evidenced by the photograph included in this feature, the Others clearly had attitude, something which 1984, or Tim Staffell at least, could only aspire to “If I had tried to push 1984 in any direction," reveals Tim, “then that would have been it. Without hearing any of these tapes of our band — and I didn't even know they existed! — l’d say we probably sounded a lot safer than the Others. Mind you, they were different to us. Their guitar style was very much inspired by American R&B, whereas Brian’s never was. Brian was a unique guitar player: he was able to extemporise a much more original way than most guitar players could. I hope he’ll forgive me for saying so, but I never perceived him as having the dangerous image which was necessary at the time — the cardigan says it all!.

LIGHTWEIGHT

“In retrospect, 1984 was lightweight, a bit fluffy”  concedes Tim. “It was impossible not to be naively ambitious — that was part and parcel of it — and the primary motivation to do it was what we saw in the media as the end results of success. But I guess we were realistic about it — we were at school, after all. Also there was a good deal of pressure in the 60s from our parents, and the conser­vative generation, to conform."

Although a version of “I’m Taking Her Home” by 1984 was captured live on the Shepperton tape, and Brian occasionally guested with the Others on stage, it's worth stating once and for all that — despite the persistent rumours — he definitely doesn’t feature on "Oh Yeah".  In fact, Pete ‘Woolly' Hammerton doesn't even play on the record — he only joined the band formally later on.

In the autumn of 1965, leaving Hampton Grammar with no fewer than four 'A' Levels and ten ‘O’ levels, Brian enrolled at Imperial College in Kensington, London, to read physics and infra-red astronomy. Before breaking up for the Christmas holidays that year, he played the first in a series of gigs with 1984 at the college, a tradition he continued later with Smile, and in their formative days with Queen. Although the exact date of the event has long since been forgotten, a very poor- quality tape still exists of 1984‘s college debut. The set was a typical one, comprising the group’s broad blend of pop, R&B and soul covers, and included the following songs: “Cool Jerk" (originally by the Capitols), ‘Respect" (Otis Redding), "My Girl" (the Temptations), “Shake" (Sam Cooke), “Stepping Stone" (the Monkees), “You Keep Me Hanging On" (the Supremes), “Whatcha Gonna Do Ahout it" ( Small Faces), “Substitute” (the Who), “How Can It Be” (the B-side of the Birds’ final single, “No Good Without You Baby”), “Danc­ing In The Street", “Dream" (Everly Brothers) and the Small Faces’ "Sha La La La Lee".

“Our repertoire was a little too eclectic to have developed into any particular style” reckons Tim Staffell. “But the Small Faces were quite influential. When we were at school, the songs were dredged from all sorts of areas. I’d always liked rhythm’n’blues. Brian’s input would have been Beatles-orientated, Dave’s as well. Richard Thompson would have been more into R&B, and Jag didn't really have an agenda as far as songs were concerned. Because of the nature of the material we covered, our approach to the gigs was almost schoollboy cabaret. 1984 was not a dangerous, moody rock band! Which may have something to do with the way Queen evolved."

1984 oponed 1966 with a couple of gigs at the Thames Rowing CIub in Putney; and once again, a tape recorder was set up to document the group’s progress. Two reels from January that year exist: the first is dated the 15th, and features “Im A Loser” (the Beatles), “I Wish You Would" ( the Yardbirds), “I Feel Fine" (the Beatles), “Little Egypt" (the Coasters), "Lucille” (Little Richard), “Too Much Monkey Business" (Chuck Berry), "I Got My Mojo Working” (Muddy Waters), "WalkingThe Dog” ( Rufus Thomas) and “Heart Full Of Soul" (the Yardbirds).

The second, dated two weeks later (29th January), demonstrates the great variety and confidence of a band which consistently renewed its repertoire. The show began with Jimmy Reed’s  “Bright Lights, Big City", moving into the Cookies' “Chains" (popularised by the Beatles), “Walking The Dog", “Lucille", “Our Little Rendezvous" (Chuck Berry), “Jack O’ Diamonds" (Blind Lemon... (cont)

(cont) Jefferson, popularised by Lonnie Donegan), “I’ve Got My Mojo Working”, “Little Egypt" and Bo Diddley’s “I’m A Man”. The band’s finale was a versión of Sonny Boy Williamson’s "Bye Bye Bird".

For an amateur band with little real pretension towards stardom, or even a serious attempt at securing a recording contract, a staggering amount of live 1984 material has been preserved on tape. Dave Dilloway, for instance, is the guardian of a seven-inch reel-to-reel, which he says reveals either a very long performance or a compilation of various unknown dates.

Either way, the tape is divided into five distinct sections, which might make tedious reading, but is an invaluable reference: 1) “Route 66", (unknown instrumental), “I’m Taking Her Home", “Too Much Monkey Business’, “Yesterday" (featuring Brian May on lead vocals), “Walking The Dog", and “ Lucille"; 2) “Little Rendezvous", "Keep On Running”, “I Feel Fine”, “Walking The Dog”, “Jack O’ Diamonds", “High Heeled Sneakers", “I Want To Hold Your Hand", “I Got My Mojo Working*, and “I Should Have Known Better”; 3) “Little Rendezvous", “Jump Back Baby Jump Back", “I Feel Fine”, “Bye Bye Bird", “Little Egypt", “Crazy House". “Lucille”, “Oh Yeah”, “Heatwave”, “Too Much Monkey Business", “I Should Have Known Better", and “I Got My Mojo Working"; 4) “My Generation", “Little Egypt", “Dancing In The Street", “Whatcha Gonna Do About It", “I’m A Man", “Heatwave", “Lucille", and “Bye Bye Bird"; and 5) “Heart Full Of Soul", “Too Much Monkey Business”, “Something’s Got A Hold On Me", “Keep On Running", “My Generation", "Tired Of Waiting", “Bright Lights. Big City" and “Happy Hendrick’s Polka".

“These are all domestic quality, single microphone recordings of early-era 1984", reveals Dave Dilloway. “It's mostly bluesy material, with some soul and Beatles songs. While the quality is basic, the sound is intelligible, although there isn’t a large amount of identifiable Brian guitarwork. That came later in the band's history, when we included covers of Crearn and Hendrix. Brian's solo vocals on 'Yesterday' (on the first segment) are quite clear, however."

For much of 1966, the band carried on in a similar vein — Brian's and the others' college work permitting, of course. For Brian May and his unsigned, Twickenham-based covers band, the highlight of the following year, 1967, was undoubtedly the gig he secured via through his contacts at the college — supporting Jimi Hendrix at Imperial. The date was 13th May, the day after the release of Hendrix's debut, “Are You Experienced". Brian May idolised Hendrix to such an extent that he'd been nicknamed “Brimi" — a combination of the two guitarists' names—so although 1984 had seen him perform before, it goes without saying they were thrilled when backstage, they actually bumped into the ascending star as they filed past his dressing-room. It’s a familar story, but it's one worth repeating: Jimi enquired memorably, “Which way’s the stage, man?*.

BLOSSOMED

1984's act had certainly blossomed by this point. Their attire was now obligatory Swinging London — or Swinging Middlesex — fare: frilly shirts, Regency jackets, striped hipsters secured with a white belt, and hairtyles extending inexorably over the ears, and indeed the eyes. “Somewhere along the line, there was an external influence there", says Tim Staffell. “There was someone calling the shots. I don’t think all that was self-motivated. It’s something I’ve never been comfortable with, which explains why I split away from it early on — certainly from Smile onwards — because it was going that way; as indeed it ended up with Queen. It's fair enough, but that sort of flamboyance is just not me. I look fairly uncomfortable in the picture of the band from that period. My idea of a rock musician is one with hair down his back, a dirty pair of Levi's on, looking at the floor, thoroughly unconcerned with the visual and external trappings, playing the most extraordinary virtuoso guitar. That was my attitude."

Back in February 1967, Brian’s local paper, the ‘Middlesex Chronicle’ caught up with the band, and captured Tim Staffell in an equally decisive mood; although here, he was more enthusiastic about the latest trend. "Psychodelic music is certainly here to stay”~he claimed. "It makes more of music than mere sound, it makes it a whole and complete art form." Dave Dilloway, who also handled the group's light show, added: “We use everything in our act, including things like shaving foam, and plastic bricks we throw around”.

The ‘Chronicle’ was obviously impressed, and its reporter had this to say about a per­formance by what it called “one of the most foward-looking groups today". “Standards, like ‘Heatwave' receive a very original treatment, mostly due to the sounds that Brian coaxes out of his guitar. Jazz chords and electronic sounds add feeling and nuance to numbers that are often churned out wholesale. Using two bass drums for a fuller sound, Richard's drumming, combined with the full bass riffs of Dave and the steady (rhythm guitar) work of John, provides a firm basis for experiments in sound — an opportunity which is not wasted."

“To be quite honest with you, there’s more substance in the literary content there, than in the musical," laughs Tim Staffell. "If some­one genuinely thought that, then I'm surprised! Brian might have used a fuzz-box. but generally, it was au naturel. I remember in the Smile days, somebody wrote about ‘humming chords of wonder’, referring to my bass playing. The reality of it was that sometimes I did try and play chords on the bass guitar, which might have come out as a deep-throated roar, but actually sounded like a load of crap!"

“We did use to tickle about with a few lights, suggests Dave Dilloway, “but being a local band, money was tight and there wasn’t a fortune to spend on the band." As to 1984's psychodelic sound, Dave adds: “Brian did use a bit of fuzz, yes, and Pink Floyd influences and a bit of screaming guitar. He’d actually built a fuzz box into his guitar, which was fairly unique for the day, but typical Brian. If you look carefully at recent pictures of his “Red Special” you can see the fuzz switch taped over."

In September 1967, no doubt boosted by their praise — sincere or not — in the local press, the continuing evidence of their per­formance tapes and their recent Hendrix support slot, 1984 entered the local beats of a battle-of-the-bands competition at the Top...[ ]

...[ ] Rank Club in Croydon, just south of London. Effectively a promotion for Scotch tape, en­trance to the contest could only be secured via a demo recorded on a Scotch reel. 1984’s effort duly arrived in the form of a two-track master, featuring covers of Marvin Gaye's “Ain’t That Peculiar?" and the Everly Brothers’ “Crying ln The Rain" (on stage, both tracks were usually enhanced by characteristic Brian May guitar solos, but conservatism prevailed, and they were absent in this instance). A copy of this recording still survives, carefully guarded by the custodian of the 1984 archive. “This tape is a quarter-inch, mono reel-to-reel," re­calIs Dave Dilloway. “Tim took lead vocals on 'Ain't That Peculiar?’, and Tim and Brian duetted on ’Crying ln The Rain’. Brian's vocal style and tone can be clearly discerned, if one knows his voice. The songs were recorded in single takes, using a single microphone fed directly to the recorder. There was no mix facility so it has a ‘live' feel, a very good clean sound”. 

The mix was achieved using the old fashioned technique of microphone position and relative volume levels of the amplified Instruments. “As far as I am aware, only the one (master) copy of this tape exists.”

As has been well-documented, after two sets at the competition (one of which saw Brian, Dave, John Garnham and drummer Richard Thompson acting as the back-up band for a singer called Lisa Perez), 1984 won the contest, and walked away with a reel of blank tape (Scotch, of course) and an album each on the CBS label. (Tim took the top prize, Simon & Garfunkel’s “Sounds Of Silence", Brian had to make do with a Barbra Streisand LP, and Dave Dilloway became the proud owner of an album by Irish bandleader Tommy Makem!). More importantly, their demo tape was forwarded to the CBS A&R department for the national showdown, although, clearly, they didn’t win.

True to form, 1984's performance that evening was committed to tape — for an unpublished review by ‘Melody’ Maker, no less — but was probably erased shortly afterwards. The twenty-minute set consisted of the Everlys’ "So Sad", Hendrix’s “Stone Free”, Buddy Knox’s “She’s Gone" and Eddie Floyd's “Knock On Wood". After the gig, the band were invited by a visiting promotor to participate in the all-night gala event which has since gone down as one of the key gigs of the London underground scene: Christmas On Earth Continued, at London's Olympia Theatre, on December 23rd 1967. 1984 was the lowest pro­file act at this decidedly high-profile event, and after Jimi Hendrix, Traffic, Pink Floyd, the Herd, and Tyrannosaurus Rex had all taken to the stage, they only got to perform their humble set of covers at 5 o’clock in the morning. When Brian finally plugged in his ‘Red Special’, 1984 played a thirty-minute set to a very small, and less than enthusiastic, audience.

Also from 1967, and of far more interest, is 1984′s professionally-recorded Thames Television demo tape. During his first-year of study at Twickenham Technical College, Dave Dilloway had made friends with a number of technicians, or trainee technicians, at the Teddington-based ITV company which served the London area. The station had recently invested in new recording equipment, and rather than hire professional musicians at the usual union rate, in a set up similar to the first Queen sessions at the De Lane Lea studios, 1984 were let loose in the studio to record at their leisure. Dave Dilloway's carefully preserved tape still plays perfectly, and includes the following songs: "Hold On I’m Corning", “Knock On Wood“, “NSU", *How Can It Be”, two early run-throughs of the original May/ Staffell composition “Step On Me” (which eventually became the B- side to Smile's “Earth"), “Purple Haze", “Our Love Is Driftin* ”, and medleys of “Remember”/”Sweet Wine" and “Get Out My Life Woman”/ ”Satisfaction". The session ended with a run-through of "My Girl”.

AMALGAM

"What an extraordinary amalgam!" declares Tim Staffell today. “There’s Tamla, Cream, Hendrix, Lee Dorsey . . ‘Our Love Is Driftin' we’d have heard by Paul Butterfield. I’d forgotten there was such a large soul component in 1984!".

Dave Dilloway has the technical details: “This tape is the most re­cent, best and most representative of 1984 that I'm aware of. It is mono, but since it was made on good quality TV studio equipment and was carried out along the lines of a proper studio recording, with separately-mixed microphones for each source, it is remarkably good quality for its age. The material, except for ‘Step On Me', is aII cover versions, but as it dates from the late 1984 era, Brian’s playing is more prominent and effective, with his own style starting to show through. All the performances are competent — particularly Tim’s vocals and Brian's guitar; although the mix is a little heavy on John's rhythm guitar for some reason, probably the ‘ear’ of the recording engineer at the time. All tracks were laid down in one take, i.e., no overdubbing at all, so the sound is predominantly simple, as per our live versions."

And that was 1984′s swansong. In the spring of 1968, shortly afler the Thames recording, mainly due to the pressures of infrequent meetings and university studies — coupled with increasing musical differences — 1984 scaled down their operations drastically. Brian May left the band, and Tim Staffell took over on lead guitar for a while. A little later, Tim himself quit, leaving Dave Dilloway, John Garnham and Richard Thompson to rebuild the group, which soldiered on into the 70′s, content merely to play for fun. They all conceded that 1984 had been a good, solid, and popular local band, but that it didn’t have the necessary spark or originality to transform into a great one.

The Left Handed Marriage

ln the summer of 1965, in another corner of Hampton Grammar School, Brian May’s old friend Bill Richards (who had been a fleeting, early member of 1984 before it acquired its futuristic name), and his colleagues Jenny Hill (née Rusbridge), Henry Deval and Terry Goulds, formed a folk-rock band called the Left-Handed Marriage, named after an archaic form of marrying beneath oneself. By January 1967, the quartet had progressed to the point where they had issued their own privately-pressed album, “On The Right Side Of The Left Handed Marriage", which ran to just fifty copies (and, incidentally, has since acquired cult status among collectors, with a £600 price tag to match).

Although naturally familiar with the al­bum, Brian May as yet had not been involved with the band. That changed in March 1967, after Bill signed a twelve-month contract with EMI's music publishing company Ardmore & Beechwood — a deal secured through the efforts of Brian Henderson, a former member of Edinburgh beat outfit the Mark Five, and more recently, the bassist in Patrick Campbell- Lyons' 60′s psychodelic band, Nirvana. Bill approached Brian to help him create a “fuller" sound for the Left Handed Marriage, with a request to provide guitar and backing vocals on some recording sessions.

On the understanding that the project wouldn’t interfere with his commitment to 1984, Brian agreed. On 4th April 1967, he joined Jenny, Henry, Terry and Bill in AMC Sound, an amateur studio in Manor Road, Twickenham, to record four songs: “Give Me Time” (later changed to “I Need Time"), "She Was Once My Friend", “Sugar Lump Girl” and “Yours Sincerely” (which was basically “Give Me Time" backwards, with new lyrics pinched from the Russian author Pushkin).

The songs were all cleanly-recorded, melodic atempts at 1967 pop (despite the Left Handed Marriage's later classification, there's little actual folk music in evidence). “She Was Once My Friend" is the pick of the bunch, thanks to its Kinks-like structure — complete with Bill Richard's/ Ray Davies-soundalike vocal and, albeit way down in the mix, flashes of that distinctive Brian May 'Red Special’ guitar sound. Acetates of the AMC EP were cut, and the idea had been to release the songs as a commercial EP.  Instead, the set merely became the Left Handed Marriage’s first demo for their publishers, although it did lead to the offer to record at a more professional session — at EMI’s prestigious Abbey Road studios.

The Abbey Road session took place on 28th June 1967, when Left Handed Marriage were joined by Brian and 1984′s Dave Dilloway, who was drafted in to play bass. Two further tracks were cut: the reworked “I Need Time",...[ ]

...[ ] and a new song called “Appointment". At this stage, there was more talk of issuing a record, this time a single, and a release date of August was even discussed. This never materialised either, and again 7″ acetates are all that remain.

Although Ardmore & Beechwood were pleased with the results, they still thought the Left Handed Marriage could improve their sound even further, and on 31st July 1967, they booked the band into another studio, this time Regent Sound in central London. As Dave Dilloway was not available, another friend, John Frankel, was called upon to play bass and piano. The eight-track Regent Sound ma­chine was something of a technological marvel, and the session was flawlessly recorded, resulting in new versions of “I Need Time”, “She Was Once My Friend" (which also remixed and edited for the abandoned single), and "Appointment".

Despite the studio quality of the tape, Ardmore & Beechwood failed to place the songs with a record label, and like so many groups before and since, the Left Handed Marriage quietly disappeared from view. It was left to frontman Bill Richards belatedly to issue the fruits of this last session, when in February 1993, he tagged the three Regent Sound recordings — the final mix of “I Need Time”, the abridged version of “She Was Once A Friend Of Mine” and the final mix of “Appointment” — onto the end of “Crazy Chain”, a CD recorded by the reformed Left Handed Marriage, which itself was prompted by collector's interest in the group’s original 1967 LP,  “The Right Hand Side Of...” . Most of the master tapes for the LHM recordings featuring Brian May have Iong since disappeared along with the Regent Sound studio, and (with the exception of "She Was Once My Friend") the Richards/May collaborations on the CD were digitally remastered from acetates.

RECORD COLLECTOR Nº 195, NOVEMBER 1995

➡NEXT: ROGER TAYLOR’S REACTION 

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[all1e23]

Between the Stars [Pt.6]

Pairings: Past!Steve x Reader, Bucky x  Reader

Series warnings: CHARACTER DEATH. Grief. Overall sadness. Depression. It’s pretty angsty if I’m being honest. Things mellow out as the series goes on. TW: Military/Spouse death

A/N:  Good news! We are finally getting out of the terrible sadness! As a reminder, we are back to reader POV for this chapter. This chapter has a slight flashback from the last night and picks up right where the chapter ends.   Thanks to my beautiful beta @moonbeambucky​​ for looking this chapter over for me. If you like it write me a book report, sing me a song or come scream at me. 

***My fics are not to be saved or posted on any other sites without my written permission. Reblogs are my jam, though! Thanks!****

When Natasha showed up this morning with iced coffee and a box of doughnuts, you were relieved and a little excited -- not just because she got the chocolate fudge one you like. Natasha had yet to stop by since arriving home, and it was nice to see with your own eyes that she truly was alive and back home for good. There was always this unease until you could see a returning soldier in person; really see that they were home safe and sound, so seeing your old friend did settle a tiny part of the restlessness in your heart. And outside of the random visits from Wanda before Bucky came home, you haven’t seen much of your friends and family. It all felt forced when you did manage a visit with them and after a few weeks of exhausting lunches and house calls, you simply stopped answering your door and left your phone on silent. It took too much energy to pretend, and you didn't have that much to spare nowadays. 

After caffeine and baked goods, Bucky mentioned he had a few things he needed to take care of, stopping by his mom’s and an errand or two with Sam. Despite having Natasha there, you didn't want Bucky to go. He's rarely left your side since he came home, and there was a sense of peace knowing he was only a shout away. It was nice not to be completely alone, but Bucky couldn’t be there forever, and you knew that. He would eventually get a place of his own, figure out what he was doing with his life and move on. 

Just like everyone else was doing, everyone but you.

Sooner or later, Bucky would no longer live in the bedroom down the hall, he would get a new job, and new life, and you would still be stuck, unable to move past the life you lost. So, you let him leave without a hint of hesitation on your part. Natasha seemed to sense something was off because the moment Bucky left, she asked how you were handling everything and, more importantly, how were you handling everything with Bucky. You didn't love her spying on a regular day, but you especially didn’t like it today. What was that supposed to mean anyway? Why would she even bring Bucky into the equation? You didn't ask because you honestly didn't want to hear her answer. 

You had enough to deal with. 

Natasha caught onto your annoyance fairly quickly and changed the subject, leaving both questions unanswered. She could figure out the answer for herself if she looked hard enough. While the dark circles under your eyes had faded thanks to your nights with Bucky, you saw how empty your eyes looked -- she could solve that mystery without help. You felt bad at first. Natasha was only trying to help, but everyone was “only trying to help,” and no one actually helped. No one but Bucky. He was the only one that made you feel… well, he made you more than the nothing that’s consumed you for months on end. You were less numb when he was around, things felt less empty, and your chest no longer felt as hollow. You felt more like yourself, or whatever new version of yourself you were now. Without Steve, you could never be yourself again, but Bucky made you feel like this version you were forced into wouldn't be so bad. 

The ice between you and Natasha thawed the more she talked, and you relaxed some. Your laughs were still forced, and the exhaustion a performance like that brought on began to weigh you down after a few hours. You were grateful when she said she had to go and pick up dinner for Clint -- Pizza and cinnamon twists from the place in town. At the time, you wondered if you could talk Bucky into picking you up some instead of cooking. But now that he was home standing in front of you with what was supposedly your piano perched behind him, all you wanted to do was shove those cinnamon sticks down his throat till he chokes. 

“Hey there, Trouble. Sorry, I’m late. I had to make a stop.” 

You should have known he wasn’t going to simply drop it, it didn’t matter that it had been months since you sold the damn thing. It’s not in Bucky to let things go. He had to fix things. Bucky stood there, waiting for you were sure was your reaction and when your eyes darkened, he appeared to expect it. 

“How fucking dare you,” you seethed.

Bucky took a deep breath and braced himself as you crossed the room, barreling towards him with a look he’s only seen once before in his life -- the night he told you he was joining the Army alongside Steve.  

“Who the hell do you think you are? I didn’t ask you to get the damn thing back! I don't want it!”

“Y/n, I know you think you have to feel that way--”

"I’m going to stop you right there, James. You don't get to tell me what I feel now or what I should feel six months from now.”

Bucky took a deep breath, and after a second, he corrected himself. 

“I didn’t mean it like that, and I know you know that. I only meant--  All you’ve wanted to do since I met you was play, your dad bought her for you. I’ve spent more nights than I could ever keep track of, listening to you play on the damn thing. This isn’t about Steve. She’s got more than memories of Steve attached to her. You don’t have to keep punishing yourself to be a good wife to Steve.”

You wanted to scoff at the suggestion, but maybe you were punishing yourself. Even if you were it didn’t matter. You didn’t want it in your house. You didn’t need a reminder of all the ways you failed Steve, your marriage, and yourself. You didn’t need to be reminded how off-track your life has become and how sixteen-year-old you would be devastated to see the person you’ve turned into in Steve's absence. 

“I don’t want to play anymore, and I don’t want any of the Goddamn memories.”

“Bullshit.”

You narrowed your eyes, but Bucky stood his ground and stared back at you, no hint that he was going to back down. Bucky’s always been different from Steve. Steve would have apologized, told you he could get it out of the house if that was what you really wanted. He may have even followed through with that if only to hide it somewhere until you came around, but Bucky wasn't going to do that. Yes, he was gentle, softer with you than with anyone else, but in moments like this, things were different. He wasn’t afraid to push back a little, to challenge you if he had to. 

“You’re a stubborn ass, you know that?” you snapped back. 

“I’m a stubborn ass?” Bucky challenged, brows raised, and a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “Have you looked in a mirror, sweetheart?”

You weren’t in the mood for some cute verbal sparring match. You were exhausted, and you ached all over. All you had wanted from the moment you woke up this morning was a quiet night with Bucky, maybe watch some trashy movie that allowed you to forget for a few hours and possibly allow you to get some sleep, but none of that was likely now. 

“Get the damn thing out of my house, and you can go stay with Sam. I don’t care. Just get out and leave me alone.”

You turned to head back upstairs, but your anger quickly resurfaced with each step towards the stairs, you swiftly swung back around catching your second wind and stomped towards him and Bucky was still standing there as if he expected you to do exactly what you were doing. You wanted to hate him for knowing you that well. 

“You know, you have no right, Bucky. I am grieving in my own way, and I don’t… I gave it away, okay?! I don’t want it, and you’re an a-asshole for bringing it b-back and forcing me to relive it a-all.”

Bucky stepped forward when your voice trembled but kept an arm’s distance between you. He could reach out and touch you if he thought that was what you wanted, but he wouldn’t until he was sure it was okay to do so.

“You about done? Get it all out?” He asked, much softer this time around. 

That soft heart of his always found its way back at just the right time.  

“Yes,” you spat back, it didn’t come out angry as you hoped. You sounded tired. 

You were just so tired of everything.   

Bucky slowly reached out and took your hand, pulling you towards the dreaded instrument in question. You let him drag you towards the bench and didn’t fight him when he gave you a playful nudge towards the keys. You rolled your eyes but let your free hand land on the keys, one following the other as the notes consumed the stale air of your living room, you never admit to his face, but you already felt a little better. Bucky let go of your hand, and you stepped closer to make sure it was, in fact, yours -- not that you thought Bucky would ever lie to you or try to trick you like that. 

He cared about you far too much to hurt you like that. 

Bucky broke the tautness between you with an easy smile and filled you in on some of his trip. “You'll be happy to know the little girl I bought it back from said my hair looked dumb.”

You snorted. 

“It does look dumb.”

Bucky grinned at your playfulness. That’s been showing up more and more as of late, and he was more than willing to encourage it. 

”Now, you’re just being mean, Trouble. It takes a long time to grow it out. What am I supposed to do, huh?”

You looked up from the white and black keys, grinning as your fingers played on their own accord. No real thought to the rhythm, but it was clear it was one they have memorized.  

“Fine,” you conceded with feigned exasperation.”"You look handsome. Happy?” 

“Handsome, huh?” Bucky mused, that self-satisfied grin on his face as he toyed with your words in his head, and you couldn’t help but get annoyed. As if he didn't know. 

“Oh, shut up. You know you're good looking.” 

Bucky laughed suddenly, surprised by your words, and it made you smile. You’ve always liked that laugh, the one he gives when he’s caught off guard; his eyes light up with that spark, his nose scrunches up, and his smile is so big you’re sure his cheeks hurt. 

“I ain’t denying it. Just didn’t think you thought so.”

Your fingers faltered, and A sharp was hit by mistake, piercing your ears and Buckys from the grimace he made. It’s been a long time since you thought of Bucky in that way, not that he hasn’t always been attractive, and he’s only become more beautiful as he aged, but standing in front of him now made you feel shy and uncertain for some reason. How had he not known you’ve always found him beautiful? This wasn’t something you should be thinking, let alone saying out loud. You shouldn’t see Bucky that way or anyone for that matter. 

It was unfair to your marriage and to Steve.

Bucky shook his head as if he was annoyed with himself because he was thinking the same things you were, and he lifted his dusty black boot towards the bottom of the piano to change the subject or maybe to clear the uncomfortable tightness that returned to the room and forget their moment of disloyalty. 

“Come on.”

You followed Bucky without protest; both of you slipped under the piano lying shoulder to shoulder, staring up at the unpainted wood on the bottom where your initials rested next to J.B.B. You ran your fingers over the slightly faded marker and smiled. 

“That was a long time ago.” 

Bucky hummed in agreement. “Another lifetime.” 

“When you wrote that…” You dropped your arm onto your stomach and turned your head to meet Bucky's eyes. “Did you know this is where we would end up?”

“No,” Bucky opened his mouth again but quickly snapped it shut. He obviously wanted to say something, but some part of him, his head or his heart you weren’t sure, were telling him not to. 

“No, Trouble. I didn’t know we would end up here. I thought-- I knew you would always be in my life, but I didn't think we would ever be here.” 

You leaned your head on his shoulder and held your hand out, which he took right away. Your fingers laced together, and he brought your hands up to rest on his chest. Quiet settled over you, and you laid there, staring at the aging Sharpie markings. Things were so different then. If you could go back and ask the girl who scribbled her initials next to Bucky’s if she knew where she was going to end up in the next few decades, she would have told you with absolute certainty, laying right here next to Bucky. 

She was ignorant and so naive, and maybe a part of you still was because for just a few moments it felt like everything would be okay, it would all be okay as long as you stayed here under your piano, holding Bucky's hand. 

“Play for me?” Bucky asked, breaking the silence with a gentle whisper.

That wasn’t a strange request, and it’s one you’ve heard fall from his lips a hundred times before. When you were young and foolish, Bucky used to ask you to play for him all the time, and usually, you were happy to oblige. This wasn’t about that, though. There was a question in his voice that said he wanted to know this was okay, that what he did was okay and that you were okay because if you weren’t and you really hated having it back, he would get rid of it. 

“What do you want to hear?”

You didn’t mind having the piano back, and it was only right that Bucky was the one that brought it home to you. 

“How about the song you liked to play from that movie. Shit, what was it? Swallow. Eh, no. Shallow?”

“I hate love songs.” 

Bucky smiled. 

“No, you don't.”

You smiled despite yourself and whispered, “I want to.”

Bucky placed a kiss to your forehead and whispered against your skin, “No, you don’t.”

It was unfair how well Bucky knew you. He knew nearly everything about you. He knew you hated to be told when you were wrong when you knew you were absolutely right. Bucky knew when you were lying and when you were throwing up your walls to hide the more delicate side of your heart, only a few have seen. You pretend to be tough by saying things like that, so no one could see how gentle you really were under it all. It was infuriating and comforting to have someone who knew you inside and out, but it often made it hard to keep the broken parts hidden. 

“I’ll play for you, but I just wanna lay here a little bit longer, okay?”

He knew most of your secrets; you only wished he would trust you with some of his. 

“Okay, Y/n, We can stay here as long as you want,” Bucky promised.

“And then order a pizza?”

Bucky chuckled and gave the hand he was still holding a soft squeeze. 

“If that's what you want, Trouble.”

You grinned but didn’t say a word, simply closed your eyes and let your head fall into the crook of his arm. Things were less scary when Bucky was around, so it was okay to let your guard fall for a short while. He would brave the dark with you if he had to, help you figure out what your new normal was and what parts of your past were okay to keep.

It made you feel as if maybe one day in the near future, everything would be okay again. At the very least, there would be pizza and Bucky, and that was enough. 

Previous // Next 

[rjhpandapaws]

Technical Difficulties

Ch 2: A Change in Luck

Three and a half months in and Daniel was still baffled as to how he had not only managed to land the accounting internship at AME, but keep it given his luck when it came to computers. He was an accountant, he had an understanding of computers; sort of; they just hated him. AME was almost entirely paperless. So given the fact that the intern terminal almost always had problems when he used it and the coffee machine in the break room had decided he was the devil; he was a little surprised he that he had been brought on as well. It wasn’t just computers if he was honest, he just wasn’t very technologically inclined. His phone was an older model, but he understood how it worked for the most part, and it hadn’t crashed yet so he hadn’t bought a new one. The issue was, that as an accountant there was an unspoken expectation that he understood computers. He didn’t. He could use the internet and more or less guess his way around a basic accounting program, but he had gone into this for the math. Given that AME was a science and technologies company, and Silas wrote all of their programs, the accounting software was not anything close to basic. Daniel felt like he was on the verge of drowning.

He honestly thought he was going to be let go within his first week after what happened with the coffee machine. Richard had said that Silas would be up to fix it when he had the time, and then recommended a cafe close to the office. He had treated it like something that happened every day. Silas had been thoroughly entertained. When the terminal had crashed on his shift the first time, he had thought that would be it. He was definitely done for this time. Richard had explained that three different people used the terminal and it was bound to happen eventually. Daniel had just been unlucky. Silas was up within the hour to fix the issue. He had been annoyed, more at the interruption than at Daniel it seemed. In the coming weeks he became familiar with the head of the IT department. He would email or call down whenever there was an issue that he couldn’t solve on his own. Silas would either walk him through it if it was an easy fix, or come up to fix it if it was a bigger issue. He always seemed a little frustrated, and Daniel always felt guilty even though he knew Silas wasn’t necessarily upset with him.

This was it, today was the day he would finally lose his internship. All he had done was log into the terminal then the screen went blue and it made a digital screech that was nearly painful. He might not have been the greatest when it came to computers, or even good really, but they knew they weren’t supposed to make that kind of noise. He had barely clocked in and it was already time to call Silas. He picked up his phone and dialed the extension for the labs since that’s where he normally was in the morning. He hoped that he wouldn’t wake him this time, Silas didn’t take too kindly to that. “You got Silas.” Came through after two or maybe three rings. “It’s Daniel.” He replied meekly and a quiet but sharp sigh came from the other end of the call. He flinched but continued, “The intern terminal blue screened and it’s making a god awful noise that I can’t get to stop.” Daniel heard something get set down, “I’ll be up in a few Daniel.” Silas hung up and Daniel looked back at the computer. He didn’t want to make things any worse so he made his way to the elevators. Maybe if he put some distance between himself and it the thing might decide to behave. He knew that wasn’t how computers worked, but he could hope. It was probably his last day here anyway, it wasn’t like things could get any worse.

Should he have stayed at the desk? Gotten his things together maybe? There was no way he was going to be keeping the internship after this. Richard had been understanding so far, but even he had to have his limits. Speaking of limits, Silas was probably at his when it came to Daniel. The elevator chimed and brought him out of his head. Silas stepped out of the elevator pushing a cart in front of him. When he saw Daniel he gave a friendly smile. He was definitely getting terminated. “Hey Daniel.” He greeted lightly, “Wanna take me to the problem child? I’ll see if I can fix it up here without having to take it apart, then you’ll be good to go. No worries, okay?” He was definitely all worries at the moment, but he found himself agreeing anyway. “Alright.” He said and tried his best to keep those same worries out of his voice, “I know I break things pretty badly a lot of the time, so I’m sorry about that.” “I don’t think this one is your fault.” Silas said as he walked with Daniel back to the bullpen, “You aren’t the only one that uses that terminal. You were just unlucky today. Just like with the coffee machine.” Daniel let out an embarrassed laugh. That had been one of his worst first impressions yet, “Oh god, don’t remind me.”

“We had a good laugh about it though.” Silas said and Daniel could hear the smile in his voice. When they got back to what was his desk in the morning there was white writing on the deep blue screen. That had not been there when he had left and he had no idea what it meant. He was relatively sure that it wasn’t anything good though. He was definitely going to lose this internship before the day was out. He was certain of that now. It had been good while it lasted, but it was time to concede that a tech company was not the place for him. “The writing wasn’t there when I left.” Daniel was on the verge of panicking again, “That’s pretty bad isn’t it?” He heard Silas sigh. It was that same annoyed sharp sound from the phone and Daniel withered a little. He was done for, “Yeah. I’m going to have to take it apart and see what the issue is.” He moved to start disconnecting the terminal from the monitor and the wall, “”It’s gonna take me a few days probably. Is there anything you can do here while the computer is down?” Get fired, he thought bitterly. “Paperwork I suppose.” He said as he moved out of Silas’s way, “I’d have to see if there is anything backed up. If not there won’t be anything for the interns to do.”

“How would you like to learn about computers?” Silas asked once he finished situating the computer on the cart and stood, “If Richard says it’s okay of course.” “That sounds interesting.” Daniel liked the idea, but he was wary. It wasn’t like this could make him any worse with computers, “Maybe I won’t have as many issues with them then.” That was of course operating under the assumption that he hadn’t lost the internship. “Just talk to Richard.” He said as he pulled the cart away from the desk. “Then if you’re able to, come down to floor six. I might have this taken apart by then, so I’ll see you in a bit.” Daniel nodded absently. Talking to Richard was the thing that he was dreading the most. His luck, if it could be called that, with him had to be running out by now. He had unintentionally messed so many things up by now that he had to be on thin ice. People were only so forgiving. This was a big company and there was no doubt that they could find someone better. He was still confused as to why Richard had picked him at all. He took a deep breath to find something that could pass as collected if he tried hard enough, and made his way to Richard’s office. This was the moment of truth. He would either be packing his things or going down to see Silas.

He hesitated outside of the door. Was he was ready for this? Richard was overly rational to the point of being a little too blunt. Did he want to face that on top of the possibility of losing his internship? When it came down to it, did he really have a choice? He made a last ditch effort to compose himself and then knocked. “Come in.” Richard said after a moment. Daniel opened the door and stepped inside, there was nothing else he could do. He closed it quietly behind him. Richard looked up and several things passed through his eyes though his expression was still carefully neutral. The concern that came to rest in his eyes didn’t do anything to help his anxiety. If anything, see it so blatantly made things worse. “Daniel is everything okay?” Richard asked as he set aside what he was working on. He leaned back against the office door and then the floodgates opened. “I didn’t mean to. I logged in then it went blue - and - and it started screaming.” Daniel was distantly aware that he was in tears and that it wasn’t professional to cry in front of your boss. He liked this place though and he wasn’t ready to lose the internship, “I called Silas and he said he could probably fix it. I don’t know what I did to it, but please don’t fire me.” “Hey, breathe.” Richard said with a gentle sternness to his voice, “Computers break all of the time. It’s nothing to get fired over Daniel.”

Daniel nodded and scrambled to get himself together, “I’ve just - it’s - everything I touch here seems to break.” “That’s how technology is sometimes.” Richard replied in that same tone, it was comforting, “It breaks. That computer was giving us trouble for a while even before you were brought on. It would be unfair to fire you just because you happened to be the one who was logged in when it decided to finally quit.” Daniel nodded and wiped his eyes with the sleeves of his sweater. It was a bad habit that he still carried with him from when he was a kid, “Is there anything I can do until it’s back up?” “The paperwork is all caught up. Echo finished the last of it yesterday.” He said, “So the day is yours. If you want to head home and decompress I don’t blame you.” Richard leaned onto his desk, “You’re good at what you do Daniel. So don’t worry, alright?” “Right.” Daniel agreed, “Okay. I’m sorry about... this.” “You’re alright Daniel. Take tomorrow as well since there’s nothing to do until the computer is back up.” His panic came back almost full force at that, “I’ll let the other interns know too. Maybe you guys could do something together.”  Daniel flinched internally at that idea, “Maybe.”

He stopped on his way to the elevators to clock out. He should have been relieved; but what he was feeling in the wake of his panic attack was the emotional equivalent of tv static. Learning what was wrong with the computer would help him to feel less guilty. He just wasn’t sure he was ready to spend who knows how long around another person. It would be rude to leave him hanging though, so with a deep breath he hit the call button. He was blissfully alone on his ride down to the sixth floor. Daniel hadn’t really interacted with his coworkers, even the ones in his department, so he was glad for the empty elevator. His luck had made him rather familiar with the IT department. Namely Silas and Josh; he didn’t know who the two lab techs were and the thought of meeting one or both of them made his stomach turn unpleasantly. Maybe spending the rest of the day in the lab wasn’t the best Idea. Daniel shook that thought away as the elevator doors opened. He was met with the sudden sound of loud techno metal music. Something he hadn’t been ready for, but wasn’t all that surprised to learn that Silas listened to. He was leaned against a table with what Daniel assumed were computer parts scattered over it and he was bobbing his head to the music as he looked over something on the tablet he was holding.

Silas looked like he was about to jump out of his skin when Daniel approached. “Holy fuck.” He breathed, then continued once he had collected himself, “I was busy. I didn’t hear you come in, sorry about that.” “Sorry for scaring you.” He replied as he looked over the table. The sudden silence was almost jarring when Silas finally paused the music, “What were you working on?” “Product specs.” Silas replied, and he looked excited if Daniel had to pick a word, “I can’t show you unfortunately because it’s got private information.” He had said it with a shrug but almost sounded disappointed, “I figured I could get more work done while I waited. Your department is all caught up?” Daniel gave a nod as he came to lean against the table beside Silas, “Yesterday’s intern apparently did the last of it. So I’m free until the computer is back to normal.” Silas glanced at the screen that was at the end of the table.  There was a loading progress bar on it, though Daniel had no idea what it was for. Silas seemed to understand it just fine though, “We’ve still got about a ten minute wait.” Daniel didn’t know how he gathered that from the progress bar, but he was impressed. Silas continued, “Is there anything you want to do to pass the time?”

“Talk, I guess. There isn’t much else for us to do.” He replied, “Do you enjoy doing all of this? It seems like a lot of work for just four people.” “It’s definitely a lot of work, but it’s worth it.” Silas said with a slight shrug, but the smile from before was back, “As far as liking it, that really depends on the day. The days I’m not able to get anything else done, not so much; but on the days I’m able to get more research done are pretty nice.” “So you don’t like IT work all that much?” He found himself asking, “Why do it then?” “Because I do actually like it, and I’m good at it.” He replied a little dryly, “It’s what got me through college. What about you, why accounting?” “I like working with numbers.” He started, “They are like little puzzles for me to solve, which is fun. It’s simple most days, but technology tends to give me trouble and that makes things difficult.” Silas gave him a friendly smile, “Let’s see about fixing that last part.” He said, “On the days you have time, I can teach you about computers. Then maybe you’ll have better luck with them.” Daniel liked that idea, after all, it wasn’t like his luck could get any worse when it came to computers, “Only if you have the time. You have a lot to do already.” “We can start with this little problem child.” Silas said as he moved to get to work, “You can even come over here to see what I’m working on if you would like.”

Daniel joined him on the fair side of the table. Silas spent hours explaining the parts and what they do to him. He watched Silas slowly slip into his element and Daniel found himself pulled in. He didn’t know what he had done to get Silas to thank him, but apparently rattling things off to Daniel had helped him solve the problem. He even explained the process to Daniel as he fixed it. He asked questions and Silas answered them. Talking to Silas was easy and Daniel found himself hoping they could do this more often. He sat down and rested his head on his arms, content to listen to him for the rest of the night.

[raiseyourcups]

I Love You a Latte pt.2

A Modern Coffee Shop AU part 1 over here

Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader Warnings: an absolute tooth-rotting amount of fluff (hey remember that time I used to write nothing but angst?) Word Count: 2.2k of Christmas fluff

Summary: Detective Din Djarin and his son come back to your cafe with a single question in mind: What are you doing for Christmas Eve?

You struggled to close the back door of your car, arms full of presents and cookies. You knew you had gone a little overboard but you hadn’t been able to stop yourself. It was Christmas, the first one you were officially spending with Din and Grogu. Sure, they had come into the shop before to exchange small gifts with you but this was different. A smile crossed your face when you recalled how nervous Din had been when he came in after picking Grogu up from school for winter break. 

He had once again timed it just right, the afternoon rush over and only a few people working in the book shop section. Most wearing headphones to block out everything so they could finish last minute projects. Grogu came rushing to the counter first, ears of his beanie flapping like usual, and placing down a card he had made for you in class.

“Whoa, look at this!” You had exclaimed, picking it up to admire it. It was a cute little card with a Christmas tree made of paper strips on the front with little pom poms as ornaments. The inside simply said Happy Holidays in Grogu’s handwriting but you loved it all the same.  “This is so nice, thank you!”

“You’re welcome,” Grogu said quietly and you couldn’t hold back the smile from appearing on your face. He looked up at his dad with pleading eyes, gently tapping on the glass of the dessert display. Din pretended to think about it before nodding and gesturing for Grogu to head for their usual table. 

“Let me guess, a hot cocoa with whipped cream and cinnamon sprinkled on top with a Christmas tree cookie for Grogu and a black coffee with a pump of vanilla syrup for you?” You asked with a smile still on your face as you placed the card Grogu made you on the counter top so everyone would be able to see it. 

“It still amazes me that you’ve memorized our order,” Din said, a smile on his face as he let out a huff of surprised laughter. 

 You looked at him from across the counter with a sly smile, “I thought we established that I only do this for my favorite customers?” You pulled a tray you had prepared beforehand, hot cocoa and coffee ready to go minus the whipped cream and cinnamon. You opened the dessert case and pulled out a cookie, placing it onto the tray before reaching over for the whipped cream. You put slightly more whipped cream than you usually would before shaking cinnamon on top. 

“I can take it to the table,” Din said, already reaching over to take it before you could stop him. He was walking away from the counter before you could say anything and you pouted even as you placed your “taking a break” sign on the counter. You would’ve made yourself a drink too but you had already had plenty of coffee to make it through the day. 

You sat down across from the pair and watched as Grogu blew on his cocoa before taking a large sip. It was another reason you had made it before they came in, so it would still be warm but not too hot that he couldn’t drink it. 

“So I know you two didn’t come in just to bring me the card and get free stuff in return,” you teased, looking at Din with a raised eyebrow. 

Din took a sudden interest in his coffee, taking a sip before setting it back down. You tilted your head when you noticed that his hand was slightly shaking. “Um, I-we, I mean, we wanted to invite you over for Christmas Eve and I know you probably have family to go visit and it’s okay if you can’t-”

“Din, calm down,” you said, reaching over to place a hand on his arm. You had finally gotten used to small touches like this. You also had no idea how a detective could be so nervous asking you a simple question. “I wasn’t planning on leaving to visit anyone so I would love to spend Christmas Eve with you.”

Which is what leads back to you struggling with your arms full, walking up the steps outside Din’s house carefully so you didn’t slip. It had snowed earlier and the steps were still a little slippery.You would admit that you hadn’t been expecting to see a row house painted yellow with green trimming but you also knew that this was a historical district. Din couldn’t paint it even if he wanted to and you knew Grogu probably loved it anyway. You already did. 

You lifted an arm carefully, hitting the doorbell with your elbow and waiting for someone to come open the door. You thankfully didn’t have to wait long before the door was pulled open and a gust of warm air met your face. It felt amazing in comparison to the chill in the air. 

“Hey, hi, um come on in,” Din stuttered, pulling the door open more so you can shuffle in. “You didn’t have to bring anything.” He helped you out, taking the tray of cookies that you had brought with you. You were thankful because those had been balancing precariously on top of the presents. 

“I wanted to, besides it’s Christmas,” you said as you walked over to the tree set up in the living room. You smiled when you took in the obvious space theme that was going on with the ornaments as you placed the presents underneath the tree. You looked back at Din who simply shrugged with a smile on his own face. “Grogu picked the theme, I presume?”

“You would be correct. Are you sure I’m the detective?”

“Oh you definitely are, I could never chase down a suspect. That’s what you call them, right?” You asked as you took off your coat to hang up on the coat rack back at the doorway. 

Din laughed at your comment, the sound making warmth spread throughout your chest. “Yes, but I don’t do much of the chasing down anymore. I leave that to the cops on the street level.”

“Ah, so that’s why people think all you do is sit around and eat donuts,” you teased, laughing out loud and dodging away when Din tried to playfully swat at you. Once you two were done laughing, you took the tray of cookies back from him and followed him to the kitchen. You took in everything, from the way the place was decorated with pictures of Grogu along with his artwork from school. The warmth that had started in your chest moved throughout your whole body like it did every time you saw just how much Din loved his son. 

“Where’s Grogu?” You had noticed the boy’s absence as soon as you walked in despite the TV in the living room on and playing a Hallmark movie. You knew Din had been letting Grogu watch all of the new ones, probably even the terrible Netflix ones too. 

“Upstairs, he said he had just one more decoration to make,” Din replied, shaking his head in amusement. He nodded for you to follow him and you did with matching smiles on your faces. You two had just gotten to the bottom of the stairs when Grogu called out to you both causing you to both look up. 

You let out a surprised laugh when you saw Grogu at the top of the stairs, holding what looked like a fishing rod over the edge. There was mistletoe attached to it and hanging over your heads. “What did I say about those Hallmark movies?”

“You know the rules,” Din shrugged before turning to you with a smile. He didn’t look too put out for being outsmarted by his own son and you wondered if he had planned this out before asking you to come over. Not that you really minded. 

You shrugged your own shoulders, “You do still owe me for past orders and your time’s almost up.”

Din laughed loudly, shaking his head before pulling you into a sweet kiss. It was much too short for your liking but Grogu was still there watching you two. He let out a happy sound before you finally heard him rushing down the stairs. You let out a content sigh as you and Din separated, no matter how many times you kissed it was just as good as the first time. Grogu took your hand and led you back towards the tree before you could say anything. 

You nodded and made comments for every ornament that Grogu pointed at, telling him which was your favorite one. He approved of your choice before pointing out his favorite. Neither of you noticed the look Din was giving you from his spot against the couch. Just pure love in his eyes as he smiled at the two of you under the lights of the Christmas tree. It just made him more determined to ask the one question he had wanted to ask after the first time you had treated Grogu like a normal kid. Or maybe it was when he had seen that you had changed your shop’s bell when you noticed how much it hurt his son’s ears. 

“Anyone ready for some food?” Din asked, finally able to pull himself out of his thoughts. 

The rest of the night went by filled with laughter, more cookies than were healthy, and a Christmas movie that didn't come from Hallmark. You had convinced Din to put on a classic from your childhood and even he had to concede that it was a good choice even if Grogu kept getting up to dance along with all of the characters. Eventually the hours and dancing wore Grogu down and Din was carrying him upstairs to his room with you following after. 

"How many more sleeps?" Grogu tiredly asked after you finished reading the book you had brought with you. 

"Just one more sleep 'til Christmas," you answered before tucking the blanket around him and giving him a small kiss on the forehead. You once again didn't see the look that Din was giving you and his son so you didn't know it matched the one you gave him when he leaned in to do the same. It didn't take long for Grogu to be completely asleep leaving you and Din trying to sneak out of the room as quietly as you could.

"Do you want a glass of wine?" Din asked, as he quietly closed the door though he left it open a little just in case Grogu woke up. 

"Yes, please." 

You and Din were curled up on the couch, fireplace still going and Grogu asleep in his bed. You were glad that he had enjoyed the book you had bought from the shop. You understood the hilarity of paying yourself for a book but when they had come in for the Christmas display you had just known that you needed to get one for Grogu. And you had been right, he loved the book after all.

“This was nice, thank you for inviting me,” you finally broke the peaceful silence that had fallen over you two. “I would’ve just spent the night drinking wine or something.” 

“Couldn’t have that, no one should be alone on Christmas Eve.”

You smiled up at him before you glanced down at your watch and your eyes went wide when you saw the time. “Oh wow, I hadn’t even realized how late it was. I should, uh, probably get going?”

“Stay.”

“What?”

“I, um, that is-if you want to spend the night. I have a guest room or maybe, never mind." Din cut himself off, cheeks warm from the embarrassment. This was the first time he was even thinking of asking someone this question, you were the first person since he had adopted Grogu to even accept them as a package deal. 

"No, Din, ask me." Your heart was pounding in your chest and you hoped you weren't reading things wrong. You knew you weren't, it wasn't like you were planning on doing anything other than sleep but you still wanted to hear him ask. 

"Move in?"

You blinked a few times in surprise. That hadn't been what you had expected him to ask. Your brain took a moment to catch up with your mouth but eventually you replied, "I...yes?"

"Really?" Din breathed out, a disbelieving smile crossing his face. You found yourself falling a little more in love with him at the sight of it. 

"Yeah, yes, I would love nothing more," you said. You didn't even care that you two had only been sort of dating for a month or so. You had been in love with him since the first time he smiled at you across your countertop and you had only fallen deeper in love as you watched him with his son. 

Din let out a laugh and pulled you into a kiss, this one deeper than the one you had shared under the mistletoe. It was made better by the two of you laughing into it.

"This is the best Christmas present just so you know. Nothing will ever top it." You laughed out, laying your head down on Din's chest. You felt more than heard his answering chuckle.

"I don't know cyar'ika. I could have a few more surprises in a year or two."

"We'll see about that."

[tomtenadia]

Island Dreams - Chapter 17

Chapter 17 for you all.

It's finally moving in day and they have some fun and their relationships takes another step forward.

Rowan gets into an accident and he finds himself married :)

I hope you will enjoy this.

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

Moving day had arrived and gone. Aelin had been sad about leaving her house but the idea of living with Rowan was far more exciting. In the end they did manage to move everything on the Saturday. After Lysandra had gone back to London, Aelin had asked her to ship all of her boxes there and that felt like the final step. She was definitely not going back. This was it. This was her new life. Hopefully with Rowan in it. Moving boxed had been exhausting and now it was Sunday and she was staring at the mess that was her bedroom and was trying to decide where to start to tackle the indecent amount of boxes.

Luckily Rowan had solved the book problem for her. Her thirty five boxes of books had joined his extra book storage in the attic. He had joked that he might eventually turn the place in a library and Aelin had responded telling him that it was a brilliant idea. She was busy unpacking her clothes when Rowan’s head popped in her room announcing that lunch was ready. “You are wonderful.” She joined him in the kitchen isle and was ready to tuck in in another one of his wonderful meals. “Did your aunt teach you to cook?” “She did.” He answered without elaborating any further. He had briefly mentioned once that he had lost his parents but never expanded on the subject and she was not going to press him on a topic that was clearly going to cause him pain. She ate the food with a happy face and Rowan thought he would be happy to cook for her forever just to watch the smile of satisfaction painted on her face. After they polished their meal, Aelin offered to help clean. It seemed only fair. Once done she went back to her room and deal with the boxes that were still staring at her. All of her clothes were spread on the bed and she was trying to divide them into categories. At the bottom of a box she had also found a couple of her old scrubs and nostalgia had hit her hard. One box was full of knick knacks and she pushed it aside. Definitely low priority. One last box had pictures frames to be hanged on the walls. Most of them were of her and Lysandra but at the bottom she had found one of her and Chaol that had survived the purge. She threw the thing on the bed and went back to her mission: organise her wardrobe. A few hours later she was half way through her boxes and she had not noticed Rowan leaning against the door staring at her with a half smile. Aelin was sitting on the floor and seemed defeated. “Unpacking not going well?” “I hate it. I never realised how much stuff I had. When I packed everything I had Aedion and Lysandra and all we did was just dump stuff in boxes. They were trying to get me out of that house as soon as possible. Rowan sat on the edge of the bed. His eyes caught the photo abandoned on it. He took it “Is this him?” “We took that the night we got engaged. I have scrubs on because he proposed at the hospital where we met. That photo survived the purge. It needs to be destroyed.” Rowan noticed the pain in her eyes. No matter how much she hated her ex husband, he could tell that whatever they had it had mattered to her and she was still hurting about it. He put the photo down and noticed a black dress. He leaned forward and grabbed it out of curiosity. “I bought for a charity event. Wore it once and never had the chance to use it again.” She explained when she saw him staring at it in curiosity. In reality Rowan was imagining her in that dress. All of a sudden he was glad he was sitting down. Aelin saw his stare and grabbed the dress from his hands, a wicked smile on her face “Stay there,” she told him, leaving him alone in the bedroom. When she came back ten minutes later Rowan noticed her and almost had a heart attack. She was stunning. The dress hugged her curves perfectly, it had a cut on one side exposing her leg up to the knee. It was sleeveless and the top of the corset reached just under her collarbone. She turned around and showed him the whole thing and Aelin noticed desire burning in his eyes. “What do you think?” He took a step to her and his hands were on her waist “That I don’t want you to wear this dress outside. I want this view all for myself.” His voice was rough and a bit breathless. Aelin laughed and kissed him and Rowan pushed her against the wardrobe and pinned her there. Her hands went to his butt and pushed him closer to her body. His hand sneaked through the cut of the dress and cupped her butt and gasped when he realised she was not wearing anything underneath. “You will be the death of me.” He breathed against her neck where he was depositing hot kisses making her shiver. “Against a wall is another one of my fantasies…” she whispered in his ear and she felt his hand move in between her legs. “Good.” He added locking his mouth on her “it’s another one of my special skills.” Rowan deepened the kiss, her mouth opening to him. Her tongue gently brushing against his. His fingers slipped between her legs and gently brushed her sensitive spot. Aelin moaned and arched her back against him. Then all of a sudden the magic broke as he pulled away from her, kissed her forehead and walked away. Aelin’s growl of frustration was loud “Whitethorn!” Aelin shouted following to the living room “You can’t.” She groaned, frustration now rising high. What was his problem? “You always do that, you tease me, you get me all hot and then you leave.” Rowan gave her a tight smile and took a step closer, his mouth to her ear “So that when I can finally have you it will be amazing.” “And very short.” She lashed back “Because I will be so horny that I will have an orgasm at your first touch and it will last seconds.” Her eyes now fixed on his. “Who said that we can’t have a second a third and why not a fourth time? I have stamina.” Aelin growled and ran back to her room and slammed the door quite hard. She groaned for another few minutes while she changed back in her comfortable clothes. “Damn he is infuriating.” She threw the dress in one of the drawers and lay down on the bed staring at the ceiling. She wanted him so badly that she was sure she was going to combust very soon. She took a deep breath and then got up again and finished to tidy up everything. An hour later the boxes were finally gone and she had finished decorating it with her stuff and the pictures and eventually it started to feel like her place. She looked at the place and smiled happily at the final job. She picked up the flattened boxes and left the room. Rowan was in the living room reading a book on the sofa and she ignored him as she passed behind him and headed outside to bin the boxes. When she came back Rowan was looking at her. “All done?” She stormed to her bedroom and slammed the door again. Later on when she was sitting on her bed reading, she heard a knock on the door and Rowan’s voice telling her that dinner was ready. She gave in and joined him in the kitchen not without giving him a cold stare. “I am sorry,” he said. She sighed “it’s okay.” He gave offered her a plate with some food “I didn’t mean to piss you off this much.” “I am not.” He scoffed “Yes, you are.” She slammed the fork on the table “Fine. I am. I am, because damn it but I want you, okay? It’s been driving me nuts.” She finally let out her frustration “And I get it, we have a promise and I will wait but this is new. Chaol never made me feel like this. None of the guys before him did. You do. You set my body on fire with just a touch and all I want is for you to slam me against a wall and fuck me so hard that I forget my name.” “I am really good at that…” he smirked and Aelin’s heart lightened. She could not be mad at him. Not when he smiled at her like that. “Someone has a high opinion of himself.” “I definitely can make you forget your name. To be honest, I am positive I can do that just with a kiss.” He kept eating never averting his gaze from her. “You can do that by just be beside me sometimes.” She admitted. That’s how mad about him she was. “Dinner is lovely, by the way. Thank you.” She finally conceded. He smiled at her warmly. And like that their little fight was over. “So, what do you do in the evening?” “Read mostly. As you can see I don’t have a tv.” “I have a laptop with Netflix.” Explained Aelin and he looked at her with confusion. “Netflix is a website where you can watch movies and series. I pay a small amount every month. They add loads of content very regularly.” She took a bite of the chocolate cake she was sure came from his aunt. “We can watch something together.” “I guess we can do that.” “Perfect.”

After dinner Aelin had offered to clean up the kitchen since he had cooked. Once she was done she joined him in the living room and brought her laptop with her. She sat beside him, a blanket on their legs and the pc on it. She snuggled close and started browsing Netflix. “We can watch Brooklyn nine nine. It’s one of my favourites. It’s a bunch of detectives in New York. It’s hilarious but has some great storylines as well.” “We can watch something new. You don’t have to rewatch it just for me.” Aelin turned to him “I rewatch it regularly. I love it so much.” “Okay.” He said kissing her head. Ten minutes later she noticed that Rowan was actually quite involved “I like her.” He said pointing at Detective Santiago. “She is awesome.” “Those two are ending up together. I bet on it.” He commented pointing at Santiago and Peralta and Aelin squeezed his hand. “I like the new captain.” Aelin looked at him but his stare was fixed on the screen and she loved his relaxed face. Her hand caressed his hair and his eyes closed at the contact. Then trailed down and traced his ear and finally placed a very brief kiss on his neck. “She is hot. Santiago I mean.” And Aelin laughed. They binged watched the first season that Aelin decided to call it a night. She was tired from all the moving. “We can continue tomorrow.” He nodded happily. “Good night, my heart.” She said kissing him.

Their home arrangements slowly set into a regular rhythm and Aelin adapted to his way of living. She still felt like a guest and she wanted to make sure she was not disrupting his life too much. He would cook and she would clean the kitchen. She would help him with chores around the house. In their free time Rowan took upon him the task of teaching her to cook. They began with something very simple. Aelin was a quick learner and she also managed to prepare lunch a couple of times without burning down the house.

One night he was in bed and sleep was evading her. She tossed a few times and then her arm extended to the empty side of her bed. She sighed. Since she and Rowan had gotten back from their little holiday she had missed his presence at her side at night. His arms around her and his warmth. She closed her eyes and tried to go back to sleep.. “Damn,” she groaned in frustration throwing the sheets at the bottom of the bed. She sat up and decided to get up. After pacing for a few minutes in her bedroom she walked out of the room and reached his. “Rowan?” “Are you okay?” He asked switching the light on and sitting up in his bed. His hair was tousled from sleep and she thought he looked sexy. “I can’t sleep.” She said not moving from her spot on the doorstep. She would not move until he gave her permission. “Come here.” He said patting the bed beside him. She smiled and joined him. He lay down again and she snuggled against him and smiled when she felt his arms wrap around her, one around her chest and the other lower around the waist. His head tucked in the crook of her neck. She turned to face him “Since our trip I miss not having you beside me at night.” “Do you now?” He huffed against her skin. Aelin nodded and squeezed closer. Gods it felt so good to be in his arms. Rowan sighed “Do you want to sleep with me?” Then he heard how his sentenced sounded like “I mean you can stay in my bed and sleep in here if you like it.” Aelin looked up at him and smiled “I’d love to.” A kiss on his nose “But I am leaving my stuff in my room. I can’t move my things again.” “It sounds like a plan.”

From that night Aelin had officially moved in his bedroom. She had finally started sleeping soundly again. They had added another milestone in their relationship.

It was of the weekly mornings when Rowan had gone to teach his swimming classes and she was in charge of the bookshop and she was loving it. Aelin looked at her watch for the billionth time in the past ten minutes. Rowan was late. He would always come back at the same time but that day he was late. Over an hour late now and panic began to settle in her. He hadn’t texted her and that was unusual as well. He had always texted even if he was going to be five minutes late to open the shop. Which he knew it was not going to be an issue since he had given her a set of keys a while ago. She paced and could not concentrate on anything. In the end she caved and phoned him. The phone rang a few times. She was about to hang up when he answered. “Rowan Whitethorn, were the fuck are you?” A woman’s voice replied at the other end and Aelin’s heart started racing. Why was another woman answering his phone? He would not cheat on her. “Hello?” Said the voice on the other side and Aelin woke up. “Yes, who are you? Where is Rowan?” “My name is Dr Jamieson. Are you a relative of Mr Whitethorn?” And she almost felt sick. She had done plenty of those phone calls to know that it was not a good sign. She sat down on the chair behind the counter and placed her free hand on her knee to stop it from shaking. “Mr Whitethorn has been admitted to the hospital following a car accident.” Aelin’s brain stopped working. She could not think and definitely she could not breath. “Is… he…” “We should discuss it here at the hospital. Are you a relative?” Aelin froze. She knew hospital policy and they were not allowed to disclose the situation of the patient to someone who was not family. And they weren’t and a roommate was not in the list of the people allowed. Fuck. Her brain was too shocked to think properly. “I am his wife.” Her mouth uttered and she froze “I am on my way there. Is he still in the A&E?” “He has been taken for a CT scan. When you arrive ask for me.” Aelin thanked the woman and took a deep breath and coerced her brain to start working again. Quickly she closed the shop and went back home to get her car. Within ten minutes she was at the hospital, dropped the car at the parking and ran as fast as she could to the A&E. At the reception she asked for Dr. Jamieson and to tell the woman that Mrs Whitethorn was here. She had to remember her act. Five minutes later the doctor arrived and shook her hand. “How is he? Can I see him? Is he out of the CT?” “Mrs Whitethorn, your husband will be back from the CT exam quite soon. He was involved in a frontal crash. The paramedics found him unconscious and his head took a hit. We believe it was from rebound from the seat belts. Very likely his head hit the window pretty hard, that’s why the CT scan. He has few bruises on his ribs and torso due to the seat belts. Nothing is broken but he will be sore for a while.” “Have you checked his abdomen for internal injuries? Are his legs fine?” Her A&E training kicked in and she went through all the possible injuries from such an accident. The woman in front of her looked at her with the type of look that Aelin used to give to family members that tried to tell her how to do her job. Aelin sighed “I am a cardio thoracic surgeon. I have worked in an A&E long enough and seen enough accidents…” “I had a feeling. You did not ask the usual questions family members ask.” The doctor gave her a faint smile “I guess he will be in his room by now. If the CT comes back clear you will be able to take him home tonight but he will need to be at rest for a while.” “Thank you.” The doctor accompanied her to his room and she stopped outside for a moment. She took a deep breath and finally opened the door of his room. A sigh of relief left her when she saw him awake. “Hey…” she ran to him and kissed him while tears ran down her cheeks. She had been terrified. He tried to hug her back but his body protested at the idea of him moving. “Don’t move. You bruised your chest and your ribs.” Then she looked at the cut on his head and noted that luckily was not deep enough to require stitches. Gently she kissed it “No stitches.” And she sat down on the bed beside him and took his hand in hers. Dr Jamieson entered the room while she was kissing his forehead. “Mrs Whitethorn, your husband’s CT is clear. He has a very mild concussion and might experience some headache. If…” “If he gets dizzy, has double vision, gets confused or struggles to stay awake bring him back to the A&E. I know the drill.” The woman smiled and nodded “I will have your discharge paper ready in an hour.” And she left and Rowan was staring at her with wide eyes. “I can explain,” she said knowing full well the reason of that stare “Hospital policy is that they can’t disclose information to non family members. So I had to lie. I couldn’t say I was your sister because well, it was not believable so… my only option was to say that I was your wife. I am sorry.” Rowan started laughing but he stopped when his ribs caused him pain “It’s fine, I think it’s cute.” “I think it’s the concussion speaking.” And she kissed him again “I was terrified.” She took a deep breath “although before that I was mad at you for being late and not telling me anything. Then I phoned you and a woman picked up. Until she told she was a doctor I thought you were cheating on me.” He leaned his forehead against hers “Never. I would never do such a horrible thing to you.” “We are going home soon, and once we do, you will have to listen to me.” He tried to reply but she put a finger on his lips “No. I don’t care. I am the doctor and you will do as I say. You will stay at home and rest. I will look after the bookshop. And this is not open for debate.” “Looks like I got myself a very stern wife.” He kissed her. “Jokes aside, how do you feel?” “A bit of a headache and very sore.” He leaned back on the pillow. “How did you get in an accident. You are such a careful driver.” He flinched “I left the school, at a roundabout an idiot with a van did not respect his turn and I drove straight into him. The car—” “Shh… we’ll deal with the car later.” An hour later the doctor came back with the discharge paper “I prescribed some painkillers. He will need rest. No work for at least three days.” “Thank you doctor.” And the woman left again. “Come, let’s get you back in your clothes.” Rowan pushed his legs off the bed and Aelin helped him remove his hospital gown. Of course he was naked under it and she almost gasped at his bare body. “Dear wife, never seen your husband naked?” He joked and she tried to keep her eyes up. As a doctor she had seen naked men plenty of times, but seeing him was different. “Ok, let’s try to put the t-shirt on. This may hurt.” And it did. Because of his bruises he was in pain and lifting his arms was not an easy task. “Slowly…” they finally managed and he decided to ignore the hoodie. It was not cold outside. Then she helped him with his underwear and trousers. He leaned against her and she tried to hide her massive blush when she caught a peek by mistake. Gods, the man was perfect. “How is your shoulder?” “It’s fine.” Aelin looked at him with the expression of a doctor who caught his patient lie. “Look.” He moved it in circles and she noticed that he was moving it easily and without discomfort. “If you are lying, your are dead, dear husband.” He kissed her “I love you, my dear wife.” Before heading home Aelin stopped at the pharmacy and got the medicines the doctor had prescribed. Once at home, she pushed Rowan to the bedroom. He protested saying that it was day and he could stay on the sofa but he discovered very quickly that Aelin in doctor mode was a bit of a despot. “Just for today. Tomorrow we’ll organise the living room so you can camp there during the day but today I am home and you will stay in bed.” “Fine.” He yielded. She went to his drawer and got some clean bed clothes. “Not again.” “You are not coming to bed with that t-shirt. First, there is blood on it. Second it’s dirty and I changed the sheets this morning.” “You are so mean.” He complained. Aelin grabbed a tube “wait.” She told him when she noticed he was about to try and put the t-shirt back on “This gel will help reduce the bruises and reduce the inflammation.” She spread a bit of the gel on his chest with circular motions being very careful not to cause any more pain. Once she was done she helped him put the t-shirt back on “We’ll put a bit more tonight before bed.” “I have my very own sexy personal nurse.” She grinned in response “Yes, and you’d better listen to her.” She helped him to get into bed and then left the room and came back with a glass of water and some pills “Take these, they will help the headache and reduce the pain in general.” Rowan followed orders and she then sat happily beside him on the bed. “Do you want me to get you a book?” Rowan shook his head “I don’t feel too great to read just now.” She caressed his head and kissed his forehead “just sleep a bit, then.” “We can watch one of your shows.” She grinned. Rowan did not have a tv but she had Netflix on her laptop so she had introduced him to some of her favourite series. At the moment they were to season two of Brooklyn nine nine and Rowan seemed to love it. “I’ll be back.” When she did she had a bed tray and her laptop. She made sure Rowan was comfortable and not in a position that would cause him pain. Then she placed the tray on the bed and her laptop on it. She put her pyjama on and snuggled under the blankets with him and curled up to his chest, and her arm around his waist. “Are you okay?” “Perfect.” He kissed the top of her head. “Are we continuing with Brooklyn nine nine?” He nodded and she started Netflix. A few hours later Aelin woke up and noticed they had both fallen asleep. She closed her laptop and placed on the floor on her side of her bed. Rowan woke in that instant. “Shhh go back to sleep.” She soothed. He lay down again and she snuggled against him. Her hand went gently on his chest and brushed it gently. She had been terrified when she was told he had been in an accident. Until she saw him in his room awake she could not push away the terror in her heart. She felt his heart beat steadily and she finally relaxed and eventually fell asleep as well.

[pixieungerstories]

The Captive - 3

Of course he didn’t think she was a virgin! Humans usually get married before they finished growing.  Well, they used to anyway.  George wasn’t good at guessing humans ages.  They were small for a short time, then they were full sized for a longer time, then they were dead forever.

But this one, seemed like she was old enough to have married, had a couple of children and still had time to lose her family in some plague or another.  Humans were always dying like that.  Plagues, famines, it was more trouble than it was worth keeping them alive.  Most of the time.

He had honestly thought of them as handy snacks for the longest time.

Or pets.

Well, not exactly pets.

Then black powder had turned up and suddenly the world was a lot more complicated.

When the arrangement had first been put into place, George had an entire monastery of nuns to attend to him. 

That had been good times.

Until he realized the women didn’t want to be there.

Then, suddenly, it wasn’t any fun at all.

He might not ever have found out, except that he had met a woman who did want to be there.

His tail lashed in anger.  Centuries of women, being sent to him.  Then Silene came and taught him how to speak human language.  She had loved him.  And when she had died, he had been beside himself with grief.

Then her niece had come.  Or great niece or something.  The woman had come and they had lived together.  They had grown fond of each other.  Then she was old and he was taking care of her.  One day she was gone.  He had returned her body to her family, as requested.  He had left with a cousin of some sort.

Eventually, he had surrendered part of his hoard and purchased the land.  That was when things had become official with this particular family.  He always had a companion.  Some were better than others.  

His last treasure - what was her name? - had been more interested in running some sort of shop over his head than in actually keeping him company.  He didn’t approve but he had allowed it.  Now this last one…  He didn’t know what to make of her.  She was moody.  Some days she would come down here and read to him for hours.  Other days she would sulk or rage against him.  She was right though.  He should try to remember her name.

Ellen?  Helen?  Something.  Damn it.

Elly!

Maybe?

George sighed.  Whatever her name was, she kept accusing him of eating her cat.  That was ridiculous.  He wasn’t interested in anything smaller than a sheep.  She was at more risk from him than some stupid cat.  He didn’t like cats.  They tended to spit at him.

Maybe if her got her a new one, she would get over that?   How hard would it be to find a cat?  They used to be like vermin around here.   Maybe he should let her keep the boy as a pet.  It wouldn’t be the first time he had allowed that.  Usually he waited until he knew the woman first.

He needed a few things for his lair.  Humans were pathetic and fragile.  They had almost no night vision and certainly couldn’t see colour in the dark.  They were entirely too sensitive to cold.  He had a cast iron wood stove around here somewhere.  It would need to be cleaned, but he generally found that carefully heating it until it was glowing white generally did the trick.  It had worked on the wrought iron bedstead … sort of.  The spring base for the mattress had melted.

He carefully dismantled it and dragged it down his tunnel and away from the house.  No hot fires under the structure.  He had learned his lesson last time.  Ann hadn’t let him live that down.

He missed Ann.  The one who had come to replace her hadn’t been that friendly.  He had been hoping this one would be better. 

Elsie?

His treasure.  He had bought her with gold before she was even born.  Priceless.  His.

His…. Evvie?  Did it even start with an E?

She was right.  He was going to have to try harder.

When he got back to his lair, he could smell her.  She had been here recently.  She had been afraid.  Was something wrong, or was this the usual humans always stank of fear?

Not her, though.  Not Effie.  She was just angry all the time.  Or at least all the time she was with him.  He should really do something about that.

He slithered up the steps and tried the door knob.  He was pleasantly surprised to find it unlocked.   It was easy to follow her scent trail through the shop, past the pile of raw fleeces in the corner that smelled slightly of pasture and slightly like lunch.  The stairs up were wider than the ones to the basement.  There was a whole house up here!  He had never been to the second level before.  One guest room that smelled like dust.  One office was full of boxes that smelled like old books, and the last door to the corner room was her bedroom.

It also wasn’t locked.

He barely had the door open when she announced, “Na dean fochmoid fáinn!”

That made him pause.  “I would never!”

“George?  Why are you in my bedroom?”

“Why are you cursing in Celt?”

The woman sat up in bed and turned on a small electric light on a little table.  Humans liked little tables.  George was not overly fond of the fake light she was always using.  “I asked you first,” she challenged.

“That is true,” he conceded.  “You were in my lair when I was not near the stairs.  I was uncertain what you needed there.”

She sagged, “I forgot your dinner.  I was going to ask if you needed anything.”

George considered this.  She had come to offer him food, then got frightened and ran away.  Interesting.  “Why were you shouting in Celtic?”

“Gaelic,” she countered.  “I don’t speak much, but I found a book of… well… legends and that was something to keep evil spirits away.”

“Do you know what it means?” he asked patiently.

“Um… leave me alone or something?” she suggested tentatively.

George considered that, “Nearly.  It doesn’t work on me.  You should be careful about using words of power that you don’t understand.”

“Do you need me to find you something to eat?”

He considered this.  She was trying to change the subject.  “You are not happy here.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” she snarled.

George blinked.  “What do you need to be happy?”

If anything she frowned harder.  “What do you mean?”

George sighed and squeezed a bit more of himself into her room so he could curl around himself.  “We are both going to be here for the rest of our lives.  If I can help make you happier, then maybe…”  he trailed off.  She was watching him carefully, trying to puzzle out his expression.  Good luck with that, he thought, you are only good at reading monkey faces.  “You need to sleep more, don’t you?”

“Yeah.  I don’t know if I will get to though.  Ben will be here in a couple of hours.”

George just kept watching her.  “Think about what makes you happy and let me know.  Is there any part of that life you gave up that you could get back?”

She shook her head sadly, “I was almost a librarian.  I spent a lot of time and money attending university for that.  Now I sell fancy ass string.”

George crept forward and put his head on the bed next to her.  “Would you be happier selling books instead?”  Treasure just stared at him.  “I was surprised when you added the bakery.  But that has done well.  Would people who eat…. Fancy ass bread also buy books?”

She shook her head, “No one buys books anymore.”

Suddenly he understood and it made his eyes light up.  “You hoard books.”

“No!  I don’t!  I mean, I collect a few, but that isn’t the same as hoarding.”

He smirked not believing it for a second.  “Sell the wool, use the money to buy books, be happy.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do.”

George awkwardly shook his head, being careful not to bump her.  “You are selling the wool to buy more wool to sell.  Sell the wool and buy books to sell.”

The treasure snorted, “My mom said that.  I’ll think about it.”  After a moment she added, “George?  I don’t like that you came into my room.”

He nodded, but made no move to leave.  He waited until she shifted uncomfortably and was about to speak before he replied, “You are not comfortable in my lair.  You are here to keep me company.  So, I came to your lair to join you.”

“Yeah, well, don’t.”

He shrugged, though his shoulders didn’t really work like that.  “I get lonely.  You were right. You are the only person I talk to.”

She swallowed, “We will have to figure something out.”

George grinned.  He stopped when she looked nervously at his teeth.  Then he backed out of the room.  There wasn’t enough space on the landing to turn around without bumping into something.  He figured it out, but it wasn’t graceful.

He was most of the way back to his lair when he realized he hadn’t asked her name.  He would just have to listen carefully through the floorboards and pick it up when someone else said it.

[miss-choco-chips]

The dangers of sugar coating

Dick tries to give his little brother nice things (and fucks up), Tim is paranoid (and too tired to think clearly), and Damian thinks they might actually be a good team (while they plot Santa Claus’ downfall).

(Beacuse @animemangasoul and I decided we’ve been too rough with Tim lately, so I tried to give him some batfamily fluff. Somewhere along the way I fucked up and ended with this. No edit, pure crack)

-----.------

-Before I tell you anything, you need to promise me you won’t get mad.

The Bruce of ten years ago, new to parenting and oblivious to its dangers, would have done his best to emulate any ‘How to be a good Dad- guide for new, utterly lost fathers’ book. Now, though, tired after raising Dick to semi-adulthood and still hurting over Jason’s… Jason, he knew better. Life had toughtened him up.

So he didn’t raise his eyes from his newspaper, and gave into the urge of sipping his coffee before humming under his breath. Not even the slightest show of acceptance over those terms.

If Dick was asking that, instead of hiding whatever this was or dealing with it himself, it meant the situation was either out of his control, bound to make its way to Bruce eventually, or both. 

Probably both.

-Come on, B, just promise you won’t get all passive aggressive bitch on me. I did it for the greater good...

Another hum.

However, Dick has spent the same amount of time learning under his guide than he had raising him, so the younger was bound to develop some of his own tactics.

-...and I did it because Tim obviously needed it, so…

Warning bells ringing in his mind, Bruce gave up and shoot Dick a look. He didn’t seem overly guilty, so whatever this was, it probably wasn’t irreversible. But he was also shifting his weight from one leg to the other nervously, so… there was a catch here.

-What did you do?

-You didn’t promise.

-I won’t take your allowance away, but I may yell. It depends on how convincingly you make your case -compromise, he had learned after many, many mistakes, was as good a plan as any. 

-Deal -then, quickly, like ripping off a bandaid:- I might have made Tim slightly more neurotic than he was. On accident.

The bells turned into firefighter’s sirens. 

-What did you do?

They have had the fifteen year old living in the mannor for a few weeks at most. They couldn't possibly have already broken him, right?

Right?

Dick winced, but sat down by Bruce’s left (the side closest to the dining room’s window), which meant this was the only issue, but a hard to explain one.

-You see… We were talking, bonding over childhood memories and stuff, and… you know how christmas is just around the corner, and I asked him about Santa. I mean, obviously he doesn’t believe in that now, but the thing is, he never did.

-He’s too smart for that -growled Bruce, impatiente to get to the point and figure out just how much damage control would he be doing.

-No, his parents were too shitty. They were never there on Christmas, so no gifts under the tree unless he put them there himself, and whenever that happened, it was because his parents sent them and he wrapped them himself. Also no surprises, because he was the one asking for specific stuff. And I got a little sad, because how can a kid never believe in Santa? Like, come on. It’s part of the concept of childhood innocence. So...

Bruce waited a few beats, but Dick didn’t follow up. See, this was the moment where his parenting books would suggest waiting until the kid was good and ready for sharing his thoughts. But, since this was his younger child at stake here, he couldn't allow himself the luxury of letting a single second go.

-And? -he prompted, as gently as he could, trying not to spook Dick into abandoning ship.

-And I sort of… convinced him that Santa was real. Like, a full out super powered meta whose purpose in life was to bring joy to all of us. I texted Barbara and she planted some old looking reports on the batcomputer about it, to give credibility to the lie. I even drew parallels with Batman being thought of as a myth outside of Gotham to support the ‘Santa is real, people just don’t believe in him’ thing. And, after some hours of convincing and with Babs’ help, he bought it. So now, if Tim approaches you about it, you better back me up, because otherwise you would be ruining the last vestige of innocence Tim might still keep. Downside, though, Tim is now holed up in his bedroom searching the deep web for any Santa related info he can get his nerdy little paws on.

Silence in the room. Dick blurted out a goodbye and jumped out of the window. Bruce didn’t get up to check if he had landed safely on the other side. He probably had. 

Tired, he looked down at his coffee. Black, just like he needed it now.

He should have stopped at zero children.

----.----

Cassie watched, with no small amount of unholy glee, as Tim thoroughly convinced both Kon and Bart of Santa’s existence. One a clone with little social understanding and the other from a very dark future, they were unsurprisingly easy to convince.

This was the kind of hilarious shit that made being in a superhero team worth it. All the life and death situations were balanced out by this kind of drama-like absurdity.

Even better was Tim’s completely fucked up perspective on the matter.

-So you’re saying Santa is not only real, but a deranged psychopath? Who’s probably both a pedofile and a mind controlling scumbag? -Kon tilted his head, both confused and esceptic.

Cassie did her utmost best to keep a straight face while nodding along, as if everything Tim had laid down in front of them made perfect sense. 

-I thought it was stupid, too. But Dick showed me evidence, old reports, both handwritten and digital, and I found footage of Santa sneaking into the Manor when he was still young, deeply buried in the Batcomputer mainframe.

-Couldn’t that video be, you know… made up? -Bart asked, frown unusual on him firmly in place.

-If it was anywhere else? Sure. But this is The Batcomputer we’re talking about. Why would Batman have that kind of thing there? It was too heavily protected to be placed there as decoy for anyone hacking, not like they could ever get over Oracle’s firewalls. Besides, what reason would Batman have to invent this? I’m fifteen, I don’t need the ‘Santa fantasy’. The only believable answer is that Santa is real and very dangerous, and some people have taken his name for capitalism’s sake and made a holiday out of that and some religious backing, to get more people roped up into it. The true mastermind is obviously hiding somewhere out there, and the Christmas propaganda is merely a means to get funding for his devious plots.

Both metas hummed thoughtfully, Superboy even crossing his arms as he examined the pile of photos and papers Tim had laid out in front of them. Bart was nodding, hand cupping his jaw. The looked dead serious.

Cassie wanted to excuse herself to use the toilet (lead lidden because this was Gotham, specifically Tim’s secret place, so of course it was super-proof) so she could laugh her ass off, but the temptation of seeing this trainwreck to its fiery end was too strong. 

It was taking up all of her amazonian training to keep her straight face, though. Diana would be so proud.

-I even searched the deep web for Santa related crimes, and looked up his name in disturbing forums. You wouldn't believe what some people, serial killers and rapists both, do using Christmas as a theme. I couldn't sort through it all, it was that sick.

Kon looked utterly disturbed- So what do we do now? Christmas is just around the corner!

Bart got up and started pacing back and forth- We need to hunt this dude down. Christmas is about goodness and family! We can’t let this, this… psychopath ruin it! Think about the children of the world!!

Oh god, this was getting even better.

-But how? The man sounds like a velocist of some kind, I mean, running and leaving gifts everywhere in the world in the span of a few hours? How are we even gonna catch him?

-Maybe if we dress up as Elves? -Cassie couldn't stop herself from suggesting, voice choked in her effort to be serious, but most likely interpreted by the boys as clogged up on rage- From what Tim wrote here -she raised a paper from the pile, hand shaking- it looks like they are his mind-controlled slaves. If he thinks we ran from his captivity, he might take us to the North Pole with him to brainwash us again… Oh, but I probably shouldn't dress up, so you know, I can be back up if he manages to catch you three…

-That’s a great idea! -Bart’s skinny arms wrapped themselves around her neck, and she took the chance to hide her face in his mane of hair, corners of her mouth twitching up.

-Should I also record it? -she asks, almost begging- In case people don’t believe us later, when we have to explain why we imprisoned Santa.

-Yes, I think that might be wise -Tim conceded, eyes scanning his papers again.

Thank the gods. That tape was going to be Cassie’s most precious treasure forever.

-I think he has a way of controlling people’s minds too. Like, parents and stuff. And then he makes them be the ones to give his children gifts in his name, as a way of gaining their trust. Sick fucker.

-So you think it’s a kinky thing for him?

-Kon, he literally categorizes kids as ‘good’ or ‘naughty’. 

-You are right, we need to stop this bastard.

Cassie loved her boys so, so much. She also owed Dick Grayson the biggest high five.

----.----

Red Hood was just lighting up a cigarette when he saw Red Robin making his way to his rooftop. Cursing, he dropped the entire thing and kicked it away. The brat knew Jason smoked, but Dick had been on his ass lately about being a good brother, and he still felt kinda bad about trying to kill the kid twice, so he was actually trying to set a good example. 

Besides, out of the two possible little brothers to take under his wing, he certainly drew the lucky ticket, because while Dickie had gotten stranded with the pompous brat, Jason had the all around good kid circling his radar more often than not. Like, Tim had broken him out of prison, a little after Jason had done his best to end his life; he couldn't get more forgiving and nice than that. It certainly beat making a murder League child let go of his katana on a nightly basis.

-I need your help.

He blinked. While they certainly had worked cases together in the past, they were always preluded by some kind of smalltalk,  little banter, at least a ‘hello’. Not this straight to the point bullshit.

He had the urge to take out his guns, to protect them both of any threat following Red Robin here. He refrained.

-What’s the matter, babybird? What’s wrong?

Tim looked almost frazzled. The cowl was hanging around his neck, just a domino preserving his identity, and his hair was a knotted mess. Disveleshed was too little a word for his state.

-We need to make a plan to catch Santa Claus before Christmas this year. His reign of terror must end. It’s still not too late.

Yeah, okay, he might need that cigarette after all, to hell with Dick’s bitching. Besides, how bad of a influence could that be, when this kid was obviously already on some kind of drugs? Like, Santa? Really?

-What… do you mean?

What followed was an hour long rant on the dangers of a super powered, evil version of the myth that Tim had somehow cooked up on his mind.

Was this real? The kid looked far too distraught for a joke.

-… Does Nightwing know about this? -whatever ‘this’ was- Bats?

Tim shook his hands frantically. Jason was legit getting worried.

-N was the one who told me about Santa -there, he knew this smelled like a Golden Boy trademark fuck up-, but he seems to be under his spell. Bruce as well. They tried to convince me he is some kind of good-hearted samaritan. Jason -he stated, breaking the no names during patrol rule, a show of just how deep into the rabbit hole he was- you wouldn't  believe what I found on the deepweb. Joker’s yearly special seems tame in comparison.

That, Jason could believe. But he was also fairly sure you could type about any word in the darkest side of the net, and find half a dozen kinky or deranged things that matched. Santa-temed crimes? More likely than anyone would believe. Real life Santa doing the deed? Not so much.

Tim had been too young when Dick lied to his face, most likely. And nowadays, the young vigilante was running on three hours of sleep on a good week. And it wasn’t even too far fetched to believe, on their line of business, specially when dealing with metas and supervillains day in and day out.

Still…

-Kid, I don’t know how to tell you this, but… Santa isn’t real -he told him, slowly, hands raised as if to touch his shoulders but not daring to actually make contact. Tim looked so manic he might actually nerve strike him.

The icy blue eyes were hidden under his mask, but Jason knew from the way he tensed that Tim was terrified.

-He got to you, too -he whispered, almost too softly for him to hear. Then, without giving Jason the chance to inquire further, he turned tail and disappeared into the night.

....

He really needed that cigarette.

----.----

When Drake told the family he was taking Damian under his wing for a case, everyone seemed so happy he couldn't just shoot the other man down. Besides, reluctant as he was to admit it, Red Robin was the superior detective in the entirety of the team, so there would be rewards for taking the blow to his pride and working with him.

He expected to be directed through some easy case, maybe a little puzzling but not too challenging. Or be sidelined while Drake worked through things, so he could learn by example.

This, though, this he hadn’t foresaw.

This case was way more serious.

-How come Father has allowed this depravancy to continue?! -exclaimed Damian, hands gripping the sheets of information tightly- This ‘Santa’s’ influence has been permitted to cement on too many people already! And it keeps growing!

-I know. Fuck, I know. But I can’t get anyone to help me. My team knows, but sadly we aren’t enough. Bruce and Dick don’t believe me, and neither does any other hero I contacted on the matter. It’s just like when B was missing in time; they either think I’m crazy, or try to sugarcoat things, like they would with a baby.

Damian snorted, disbelieving. Whatever his opinion might be on his predecessor, he at least knew to trust his insight in a case. Grandfather himself had recognized his genius on that field.

They were on Drake’s perch, his center of operations outside of Batman’s influence. He would never admit it out loud, but if Damian ever needed his own batcave, it would be just like this one. 

Now, the long table in front of him was completely covered in information, case reports, photos taken from live footage, deepweb forums’ conversations, history books…

-And you say this… monster, targets children?

-I mean, he brainwashes the parents too, but that seems like a plot to both increase his economic funds and to gain the children’s trust.

-How are you so sure they are his objective?

-The parents tell their children Santa is ‘always observing them’, and ask if they ‘have been good’ that year. If they aren’t perceived as obedient, Santa leaves them coal, which incentives them to do their best to change that by next year’s christmas. 

-Maybe the coal and gifts have mind control devices, or some magic?

-My thoughts exactly.

Damian frowns even deeper. He’s glad Drake is taking his detective training seriously, but if father himself is being deceived, he wonders what can the two of them (plus Drake’s team) do.

-What about Todd? Red Hood is proclaimed as Saint Protector of Children in Crime Alley, after all. He certainly has opinions about this ‘Santa’ person. 

Timothy shakes his head- He got Jason too. I suspect he’s been under his control ever since he was a child at the manor. 

-So, we are alone in this.

-Essentially, yes. Thankfully, not everyone celebrates christmas. Some religions flat out forbid it, so we won’t have as much ground to cover when we lay out a trap. We could choose a close by location and plan around it. 

He nods, back straight with purpose. He -and Drake, he supposes- would be freeing Father and Grayson, along with the rest of the victims, from this madman’s control. Maybe even Todd, if he has the time.

-I’m with you on this endeavor, Drake.

-Good. Remember we need to act natural in front of the family. If Santa catches wind of what we’re doing, he might focus his efforts in getting to us. 

Damian wants to say to let him come, he would show him why it's a bad idea to mess with his family. But Drake is, admittedly, the superior detective, and it seems he’s been working on this for a long time now. Damian will defer to his judgement this one time.

Drake’s superior knowledge and Damian’s unrivaled training might be what’s needed to orchestrate this ‘Santa’s’ downfall.

They will be a good team, he thinks.

[utterlyinevitable]

Thanks for playing along with my Christmas and Valentines HCs!

Fancy telling us about Christmas with Dr. Ramsey and Valentines with Dr Lahela? 😂

Anon, I love you so so so so so much! 

Thank you for indulging me and letting me ramble about my favorite beans 😘💕

Ethan is first and Bryce is below the cut!

A Very Ethan x MC (Becca) OHSY Christmas 

As stated in my Bryce Christmas post, MC sees her family the weekend before Christmas and ends up working Christmas Eve and Boxing Day. 

Her going away was a bit awkward between them, neither really knowing if they were in a place for him to join. They hadn’t talked about what their relationship actually is and what it means - just that they care about one another deeply. Neither even brought up the idea of him meeting the rest of her family. (He’d already met her mom during the incident. See: Leakage Series for more on that.) 

So she went home and Ethan continued to work himself raw. His mission to solve the medical issues of every single person in Boston. 

They texted every day and she even sent him photos of her with her one-year old nephew in a elf onesie. 

Ethan made a terrible joke about it and refused to acknowledge her matching sweater. 

On Christmas Eve, they both worked 18 hours. 

For a little reprieve, they were eating cafeteria sandwiches and finishing off some paperwork that needed to be transferred.  

Ethan broke the comfortable silence: “What’re you doing tomorrow?”  “Tomorrow as in Christmas?” “Yes.”  “I thought you didn't celebrate any holidays.”  “I don’t. But Dad is coming down and wants to spend some time with…” 

He didn’t need to finish that sentence, the vulnerable hesitation in his eyes told her all she needed to know. 

He didn’t even have to ask before she was agreeing to accompany the Ramsey men to Louise’s rehab center. 

Normally, Ethan would work the entire holiday and see his father the 27th and 28th. But with Louise around, Alan had a special request Ethan make time for family. 

She asked him about his feelings on it and he tried to evade the questions. Louise was still such a sore subject for him, she knows that, but it’s better for him to talk it out than bottle it up. But she knows Ethan. He’ll tell her eventually. 

They head to MCs apartment after work to pick up a few things. The little bits of belongings she kept at Ethan’s she deemed were too casual for their first holiday together. 

Ethan and MC were awake by 7AM, awaiting Alan’s arrival. 

Ethan was so nervous he made enough French toast and eggs to feed a small army. When asked about his feelings, Ethan brushed her concerns off. Honestly, he wasn’t sure if he was more nervous about seeing Louise or finally giving Naveen and Alan the satisfaction in knowing they were right about him and MC.

The three of them got to the rehab by noon, just in time for family luncheon. Ethan dawdled outside, shooing MC and Alan to just go inside he’ll be there in a minute. He’s only been back here once before to get a progress report from her doctors, he didn’t dare see Louise. 

MC stayed with him, offering reassurances. The two having a heartfelt moment. 

Eventually they made their way inside. Louise and Alan sat at a covered table in the holiday decorated dining room, him sitting at her right. They looked familiar, but anyone could see that Alan was the more guarded one of the two. 

Louise was surprised to see MC. She wanted a day with her family. She wanted to make up for lost time. And MC being there was a surefire way to remind her of all the time that had passed. 

Ethan sat across from Louise leaving MC to sit at her left. He pulled MC’s chair closer to him so she was practically perched at the corner. 

They held hands underneath the table the entire lunch. MC giving him all the strength she had saved up. 

Alan told stories, Louise asked questions and MC picked up the slack when Ethan refused to acknowledge his mother. 

They returned to Boston around 4:30PM, just in time to meet with the caterers Ethan ordered. Both Alan and MC rolled their eyes at the fancy spread but conceded that after the rehab visit none of them were particularly in the mood to slave over the stove.   

Naveen arrived and dinner was served at 6PM. 

The small little family told stories, embarrassed Ethan at every turn, and had a lovely time. 

Naveen headed home, with a note that they should make these dinners a more frequent affair. Alan extended the offer for MC to sleep over, though deep down everyone knew that was her intention. She’d never leave Ethan unless she had to.  

 A Bryce x MC (Becca) OHSY Valentines Day 

Bryce had never had someone he was this serious about before. He wanted to pull out all the stops and be Mr. Romantic for MC. If they were to go their separate ways in a few months, everything needed to show her just how much he cares about her. 

Becca felt the exact same way. 

They hadn’t spoken about what it would be like if there took residencies elsewhere. Neither of them wanted to confront the fact. MC was in deep denial, tbh. Bryce was kinda thankful for that, it means they can put off the heartbreak. 

They both had an understanding that finishing their residencies was their #1 priority. They’d take things as they come. 

Bryce made reservations at Don Luigi’s because he knows just how much MC loves their chicken parm and cannoli’s. 

But there were two problems with that plan. 

1. He forgot to tell MC about the plan and dinner reservation time. 

2. His surgery ran two hours over due to complications and he was too wrapped up in making sure the patient lived to ask someone to tell MC he’d be late. 

So Becca being Becca made her own plan. She went to Duane Reade and picked up the most gaudy looking card and packaged candies she could find. She even picked up one of those stupid singing Lovebugs. 

She used the key Keiki sneakily slipped her to let herself into Bryce’s apartment. MC missed the little rascal but she was thankful to have the apartment for the two of them once again. 

Becca was not a fan of seafood, and she knows it’s something Bryce loves and reminds him of growing up on the island.  So she compromised. 

She made a veggie filled butternut squash risotto, and mixed shrimp in his. She picked up friend calamari from Don Luigi’s as a appetizer, and found something as close to a Hula Pie that she could find. 

She set the table with candles and turned the lights off, letting the dim glow of the candles and tikki themed string lights she purchased light up the open planned living space. She even bought little coconut shaped glasses and filled it with their favorite mixed drink.  

She carefully planned everything so that dinner was nearly finished when he should arrive home. With what she thought was 15 minutes to spare, she changed into her outfit - new lingerie hiding under a burgundy red dress.

Time passed and passed and she kept checking her phone. Wondering where he was and if she got the plans wrong. 

She called. And texted. And called again. And texted again. And then she messaged the group chat. And Sienna called her. With the phone to her ear, the tiny resident shuffled to the OR wing and checked Bryce’s ROTA. A nurse informed them that there was an emergency. 

The bones in her lingerie began to dig and itch with every passing minute. When she bought the thing MC wasn’t planning on being in it for longer than an hour. If she was being honest, she planned to be out of it before the entrée. 

She tried to get out of it but there were way too many hooks in the back, her arms weren’t flexible enough to contort that way. She laid on the couch, drank her drink and watched the first random show she could find on Netflix. 

One hour passed and she put the food back in the oven to keep warm. 

Two hours passed and she could not stand this outfit anymore. She discarded the dress and tried to pull the corset over her head. 

She got it halfway over her head when the slender lower part was too tight to pass over her breasts. 

The door clicked open. 

Bryce walked in to see a half naked Becca, arms straight up in the air, wrists flailing to try and pull the bodice up, the perfect sight of her midriff and nearly transparent thong with suspenders and burgundy stockings. 

“What did I do to deserve such a wonderful greeting?”  “Don’t just stand there! Help me out of this death trap!” 

Bryce didn’t need any further invitation. His expert hands were on her immediately. Working through the clasps with swift precision. 

When she was free he took in her flushed face and gave her the sweetest kiss on the nose. 

“You’re late.”  “I’m sorry.”

Just one look at him and he was forgiven. His effervescent eyes were oh so easy to forgive. 

MC rattled off the meal she made as she heated it up and Bryce told her of the plans he forgot he made. They joked about how lucky they were to have one another. He looked around at the apartment and the theme she planned just for him because she knows he misses home. 

He responded earnestly before placing a kiss to her temple, “Home is here, and anywhere with you.”       

  I wrote too much again, didn’t I? 😅

[iloveyou3thousand]

limits

Pairing: Starker Rating: Explicit Word count: 2305 A/N: This is for the @starkerfestivals​ Summer Bingo, and fills the prompt ‘sounding’. 

Summary: Tony has something that he thinks Peter might like to try. Peter enjoys it far more than he ever thought he would.

Read it on AO3 here!

TWs: PWP, sounding, barebacking, overstimulation, top tony and bottom peter

—————————————————————————————

Tony noticed, quite a while ago, that whenever he was sucking Peter off, the boy went particularly limp when he passed his tongue over the very tip of the head, or lapped precome from the slit.

That wasn’t anything unusual, since that part was usually pretty sensitive, but the more Tony experimented with the area the more he realized that it wasn’t just general sensitivity, and it wasn’t just the head of Peter’s pretty cock.

So he made Peter an offer to see if his theories were right, and to his satisfaction, Peter agreed to try what he suggested.

The next time their goodnight kiss and cuddle turned into something more akin to heavy petting, Tony pulled back to look at Peter with an inquiring smile. His hand on Peter’s cock squeezed gently, and Peter’s eyes fluttered shut as he groaned softly in the back of his throat.

Tony loved seeing that, and it made him all the more excited to see what he thought he would see once he brought out the toys he’d bought especially for this occasion.

“Wanna try something new tonight?” Tony purred against Peter’s collarbone where he pressed a soft kiss.

Peter hummed, and it was all the verbal agreement he was going to get, for now.

“What is it?” Peter asked.

Tony extracted himself from their embrace and stepped out of bed. He made a beeline for the walk-in and returned with a small, oblong, black box, that visibly piqued Peter’s curiosity. He handed it to the boy, who opened it to reveal the six silver rods inside with silver rings on one end, only a few inches long but all different girths, from something about as thin as a screwdriver to one as thick as a finger.

Peter’s brows knitted together before he even looked up at Tony.

“What is this?” he asked.

Tony tried not to grin too widely as he climbed back onto bed and started helping Peter out of his underwear where he sat up against the headboard.

“Those, my little spiderling, are sounds.”

Clearly Peter had never heard of them before. He didn’t look any more enlightened than he had when he’d first opened the box, brows still furrowed and eyes inquisitive on Tony.

“Fetch me the lube please?” Tony asked, and gave a little kiss to the head of Peter’s cock. It hadn’t yet flagged, and Tony thought that it wasn’t going to – but they had yet to find out.

Peter did as he’d been told and twisted toward the bedside table to grab one of the bottles of lube from the top drawer, and he handed it to Tony. Tony poured some out onto his hand and spread it over Peter’s cock when he’d warmed it on his palm. Still, Peter hissed at the coolness, and Tony gave a consolatory kiss to the inside of his thigh.

Tony instructed Peter to hand him the smallest sound, which he proceeded to slick up with lube as well under Peter’s watchful, curious but cautious eye.

“Do you trust me?” Tony asked Peter.

Peter pulled a face. “With my life. Duh.”

“Good. Then let me show you something I think you’re going to like.”

Peter was quiet and just watched Tony’s hand on his cock, which meant that although he might have still been a little apprehensive, because he always was when Tony wouldn’t exactly tell him what they were about to do except for that he thought Peter would like it, he did want him to continue. After all, so far Tony had been spot on with everything new he wanted to try. Peter had always liked it. And he did trust him, very much.

Tony positioned the dull end of the pin to the little hole in the head of Peter’s cock and circled it gently, and Peter immediately gasped at the sensation.

It was true that that particular spot had always been more sensitive than the rest of his cock. And now Tony was taking advantage of it. Slowly but surely, even if not entirely consciously, Peter began to realize what it was that Tony was going to do with all of those little silver dowels.

And sure enough, soon Tony stopped the circular motion, and gently pushed the pin inside, and Peter watched astonishedly how it disappeared inside his cock.

But the sensation was what really did it for him.

He could barely stop his writhing, his toes flexing and muscles tensing and legs twitching as he felt how the cold travelled down his urethra, slowly inching toward his bladder. It stopped when the ring touched to Peter’s cock, effectively blocking him up, and Peter moaned when Tony linked his finger through the ring and subsequently twisted it.

He threw his head back, pushing hard against the pillow behind him as if that would ease the wonderful pressure that the toy inside of him was creating. It was in vain.

“Fuck,” Peter hissed, hands not quite knowing where to grasp but trying to grab at whatever he could reach. One hand found the bedsheets, while the other found Tony’s arm, the one with which he was now slowly twisting the pin. He wasn’t trying to stop him though. Wouldn’t dare. If anything, he wanted him to continue, and give him… “More. Please.”

Clearly, Tony didn’t have to be told twice. He grinned, and kissed at the head of Peter’s cock once, just next to the ring, and he slowly began pulling the toy out again.

It was arguably an even stranger feeling than when it went in, but still so very good, so very welcome. Peter nearly doubled over with the pleasure of it, cursing again until the toy was fully out, and his cock dropped against his belly when Tony let go, thick and aching.

“Good to see you’re taking it so well,” Tony purred, “That was only the beginning. The first one is always easiest.”

He took the second one, lathered it up same as the first, and wasted no time getting it into Peter. And like he’d said, this one didn’t go as smoothly, needing a little twisting and turning and gentle prodding before it sank in like the first one had. Peter was mesmerized watching it disappear into his cock, his little peehole stretching around it, helpless. Nothing like this had ever been done to it, and Peter wondered if it would ever be the same again. Especially if they made it to the biggest dowel.

It should have frightened or disturbed Peter that he frankly didn’t care what would happen to it at all.

It felt too good. Far too good. And Peter didn’t want that feeling to go away.

When he’d gotten used to the second size, with Tony slowly pumping it in and out of him, movements always cautious and keeping a close eye on Peter in case he was uncomfortable and he needed to pull out – but Peter showed no signs of discomfort. Only pleasure.

The discomfort only really came with the fourth pin. The third was manageable after Tony had taken his time with the second one, but the forth seemed significantly larger in size, and it took Peter’s body some getting used to. He had to adjust. The stretch was magnificent, he had to admit, but he was growing more and more sensitive.

Tony took his sweet time and eventually the toy settled all the way inside Peter, who now lay panting against the pillows, already boneless but still grabbing at the bedsheets, a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead.

He’d never been more hard in his life. He knew that much.

After seeing how much Peter struggled to take the fourth size, Tony suggested they leave it at that, but Peter was greedy now. He’d seen himself take this, so now he wanted more. He wanted to see exactly how far he could go, how far Tony could stretch him. He was starting to realize that if there was one thing he always seemed to like, it was being pushed to his limits. And this was definitely pushing his limits.

“Just tell me if it’s too much,” tony eventually conceded, and took the fourth toy out to the sound of Peter’s wanton moans and got the fifth one ready.

Peter couldn’t believe his body took it. He couldn’t believe that his cock stretched around the dowel like that, time after time, adjusting to the size and allowing the new coolness to travel down. So much lube had been added that he was almost convinced he could feel it in his bladder, and that, too, was something he never thought he’d find as arousing as he did.

Peter screamed when Tony forced in the sixth one. He didn’t allow Tony to stop though. And if the look on the other man’s face was anything to go by, Peter could say with confidence that Tony liked it very much, too. Hell, he’d seen him rut against the mattress or his own thigh a few times. He could imagine that Tony was hard as a rock himself.

It surprised Peter that he hadn’t come yet, because it had built up past the point of orgasm and into something he couldn’t quite explain. Overstimulation was at the heart of it, and yet Peter didn’t want Tony to stop.

“I want to fuck you,” Tony told Peter breathlessly when the toy was finally in and tears were running down Peter’s cheeks, his expression pinched and breath coming quickly.

“Please,” Peter could only breathe out the words, voice barely above a whisper.

He couldn’t move on his own volition even if he tried, so Tony helped him put a pillow under his hips and angle him in a way that would allow him easy access. He kept one hand around Peter’s cock with a finger through the ring keeping the sound in place, while his other hand pushed down his jeans to reveal that he was, indeed, hard and leaking. He lubed himself up quickly, and nudged the head of his cock against Peter’s hole.

The feeling of being breached unstretched was nothing compared to what was going on with his cock. And Peter was already crying anyway, overwhelmed with painful pleasure. The feelings combined would have thrown him over the edge if it hadn’t been for the toy inside of him, effectively keeping him from doing anything until Tony allowed him to.

And that… Oh, god, that. That was it.

Peter keened when Tony’s cock brushed up against his prostate, sending a fresh wave of desperate tears down his cheeks. The man’s hand started to move up and down his cock, stroking him while the toy was still inside, and occasionally pulling it out an inch to give Peter the illusion of oncoming freedom only to push it back in again.

He did that for a little while, stroking Peter’s cock with one hand and toying with the ring with the other while he rocked into him to chase his own pleasure. When he pulled out completely, Peter nearly yelped, his breath catching in his throat at the sudden feeling of emptiness, and when he looked down he just about caught sight of his hole, stretched out and slick with lube – but that didn’t last very long. Tony grabbed at his cock with one hand and promptly, without any kind of warning, shoved his index finger into his abused urethra.

Peter cried out. Tony’s finger was thicker than the toy, and would only fit until the second knuckle, but it was a different sensation altogether.

And it was… oh. Oh, it was wonderful.

Tony pumped his finger like he was stretching him up, as if Peter was about to take his cock. He knew that it wouldn’t be possible, but god, part of him kind of wanted it to be possible.

Peter was shaking, tears blurring his vision and his body limp with exhaustion, but his muscles still protested on their own volition, twitching and jumping and trying so desperately to force his body to come. But as long as Tony didn’t allow him to, it wouldn’t happen.

Tony fucked into both holes until Peter was absently aware that he was showing signs of nearing orgasm. And when Tony came, he promptly pulled his finger out and stroked Peter’s cock roughly while pushing his pulsating cock up against the boy’s prostate deep inside of him, and there was nothing else for Peter to do except follow him suit – spilling hotly across his own stomach, the spurts slow and thick, dribbling out of his abused peehole until he was absolutely spent.

Tony slowly pulled out, and as the cherry on top, dipped down to take Peter’s wrecked cock into his mouth to suckle at the damage he’d inflicted, and help Peter through the aftershocks.

He cleaned Peter up, and cleaned the toys before storing them away, and when he came back to Peter in the bed and glanced at the boy’s cock, he was satisfied to see that it was already relaxing back into something a little more normal.

Peter looked more satisfied than he’d ever been.

“How was that?” Tony asked when he went to lie down next to him and pull him close, which Peter happily allowed, giving a contented sigh.

“I have no words,” Peter replied sleepily, “Just wanna do it again, and again, and again, and again, and again…” He trailed off, and Tony laughed softly.

“So the finger wasn’t too much?”

Peter moaned for emphasis. “It wasn’t enough.”

Tony thought about that for a moment, and with a grin, he pressed a loving kiss to Peter’s forehead.

“That’s great to hear, baby. Next time will be fun. I have a cute little bullet vibrator that I think you might like.”