#i was so willing to fucking ignore it this morning but just his fucking response

[reginaofdoctorwho]

.

[ma1dita]

if you need to be mean (be mean to me)

a ‘partners in crime’ installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 1.5k

summary: (established relationship) The one where he leaves before you wake up. You and Luke both can't ignore what's in front of you—and both of you feel guilty leading up to that night (Luke Castellan x dionysus!reader)

warnings: suggestive mdni if you’re uncomfortable – nondescript mentions of sex

a/n: someones gotta take mitski away from the pjo editors for fucks sake. yes, this is based off of ‘i don’t smoke’ (audiotree live) don’t look at me.

(posted 1/30/24 thanks to my betas ellie and lari @lixzey & @mrsaluado )

'lovers, or partners in crime' comes directly after

___

[ you come down and tell me, “i was meant for you”, baby || being with you makes the flame burn good ]

Your father once told you when you were younger that you were a divining rod for mayhem; you attract it, cause it, and in very few instances, you are the cure. It’s why your roles and responsibilities at camp hid you away from your full potential, and Luke knew you could achieve greatness if you left with him. He understood your madness more than you’ll ever know, and saw you for what you are–his cure. But he made his choice long before he recognized his devotion to you, distancing himself in order to fulfill his plans of waging war against the gods.

Sweet and sultry words slip from his lips to distract you from the growing distance of his heart from yours. A distraction is what he’s always been, and he’s good at playing the part. After all, everything he’s learned about deception and acting, he’s picked up from you. 

The guilt still sits heavy in his heart as he watches you walk around your bedroom the night before he leaves. Luke’s wondered if there’s any way he can convince you to come with him, but he knows your heart is softer than his, more forgiving. He thinks his damnation is past forgiveness anyway.

You trod over to meet him on your bed, hands full of moisturizer as you climb onto his lap and you look so willing and pliant to whatever he’ll say next. Luke knows you’ve been extra gentle with him lately, and it makes him sigh. This would be easier if you hated each other. But that’s the farthest thing from the truth.

Soft hands rub the moisturizer into his skin, delicately caressing his scar, and when he opens his eyes again, you’re smiling and looking how he wants to remember you. His lovely girl, who holds his rage like someone should’ve held his 9-year-old self running away from home. His hands settle around your hips, holding onto you until he can’t anymore and Luke wonders if there was any prophecy out there that could’ve told him that he’d always be running home to you. He just has to take the long way home this time. 

By morning, you might not look at him with this much love, and he’s not even sure you’ll forgive him, so he pulls you into a kiss so deep that even Kronos’s attacks on his mind can’t pull him away.

“Mmmm,” you moan, gasping for air as he continues the assault down your neck, marking you with his lips so you have something to remember him by, “Not that I’m complaining, but what’s gotten into you, angelface?” If only you knew.

“Can’t help it baby, you’ve got a face I’d go to war for,” he mutters, pressing another kiss to your lips, “and a heart I’d die for.” He’s smiling into your cheek, but his expression falters for a moment when you look into his golden-flecked eyes.

Maybe you know more than you let on, awareness cognizant in your features. The jig is up, and he’s ready for you to call him out on it—but a half smile falls upon your face instead, and for some reason, this feels like the inevitable goodbye. There was never much you two could hide from each other after all.

“I know it’s been hard lately, Luke. But let me take your pain away. Please,” and it sounds almost like you’re begging.

The both of you are a little guilty tonight, hearts heavy and conscious of what this means for the both of you, hoping that your actions will suffice as the coercion, the explanation, the apology— instead of the unspoken truth that will come to light when you wake. 

___

[ if you need to be mean, be mean to me || i can take it and put it inside of me ]

Both of you are more desperate tonight, bodies moving languidly like you have all the time in the world. It’s a conversation in itself as he ruts into you, trying to stuff you to the brim so you won’t forget what it’s like to feel him in your bones. 

‘Promise you’ll remember me.’

Here, in the confines of cabin 12, you are his alone, and there are no gods or monsters that can take away the feeling of you from under his fingertips. Yours are grasping onto his arms, leaving crescent-shaped indents as you will away whatever’s eating at his brain, and through the golden glint of his irises, for a moment he looks like himself again, unburdened and soft. 

‘Is there any other way?’

He’s convinced your wanton moans are his salvation, legs thrown over his shoulders, and his name in your mouth. You’re hanging onto him for dear life as he melts into you, and you wonder if you hold on any tighter, maybe this won’t have to end. But the both of you are chasing an inescapable conclusion, obstructing any thoughts or words with another tangle of your lips. 

‘I don’t know how to be without you.’

Tongues clashing like swords for one last battle, and there’s no winner at the end of this one, no matter how good it feels.

“Luke, p-please!” 

The scream rattles your throat and his fingers graze your pulsepoint as he moans lowly, watching your eyes roll back. It’s undetermined what you’re asking for, but the both of you bask in what comes after, him falling into your embrace as you writhe at the thought of wondering if this is the only glory you can offer him and if it’s enough to satiate his inherent need for revenge. 

‘How do you expect me to forget you?’

___

[ if your hands need to break more than trinkets in your room || you can lean on my arm as you break my heart ||  just don’t leave me alone wondering where you are ]

'You could fix him.'

The thought echoes loudly in your head as Kronos’ orders recalibrate in his brain, the edges blurred from your powers, and he stares up at the glow-in-the-dark stars on your ceiling as he lets out a deep breath. 

His mind is clearer than it’s been in months, and his gaze turns to see you watching him, messy hair framing your sleepy face. Your eyelids flutter slowly as you both take each other in, immortalizing this moment with both of you hoping the other will change their mind. Luke pulls your hand to his lips, kissing each of your fingertips before holding it over his heart. If there was anything else you could do to extract his madness, you’ve already exhausted all your efforts. And if there was a way to make you see his perspective, he’s run out of words to convince you. Both of you are stubborn and more like your fathers than you care to admit; what a shame that neither of you has the power to prove them wrong. The fear is the only thing keeping you both awake now.

If you close your eyes, you might never see him again. 

“You need to rest now, baby. Think I’m gonna stay up for a little while longer,” Luke whispers into the dim light.

“Are you gonna stay here tonight?” The words slur from your lips as you fight the weight of your eyelids, desperate for a moment longer with your lover. You hope that even as you lose consciousness you’ll still be able to finish the job for his sake.

“There’s nowhere else I’d be, Trouble.”

___

[ i am stronger than you give me credit for ]

As soon as he’s sure you’re asleep, he lifts your hand off his heart and sneaks out from under your covers without a sound. Pulling his clothes on and grabbing his converse, Luke makes sure there’s no trace left of him here. It’ll be easier for you when you wake up, less of his mess to pick up after. He looks around your room and admires how it’s a museum of your relationship—a liberty he was never able to have or fully share with you in cabin 11.

Surely that’s the gods’ fault too, that he’s never had anything to call his own besides you and the space you share with him wholeheartedly. His fingers hover over the photos of you two tacked to your bulletin board, and the flowers he picked from the field sitting in a vase. Luke turns to you, creeping to your sleeping figure, and tucks you in properly under the duvet, hands seamlessly making his side of the bed. He tries to ignore your outstretched hand resting on his pillow.

At the very least, Luke hopes you know that he cares for you so meticulously in this way, knowing that he’s about to lose himself as soon as he walks off the campgrounds. He hovers over the foot of your bed, inhaling the scent of berries and linen for one last time.

“It’s you and me, Trouble. I love you.”

Every step he takes towards the door and down the stairs of your loft is a nail in his coffin.

Luke chooses to wage war upon the world so that when you find him again, he’ll be a better man. 

A hero. 

All for you. 

He just hopes that he can see it through.

___

“To make her happy, I would invent God if I had to.” -Marguerite Duras

next part: lovers, or partners in crime

ask to be added to general/luke taglists!

luke taglist (struck out won't let me tag, turn on my post notifs?): @kissingyourgrl @dorcas4meadowes @lorarri @andrewgarfldsgf @noodlesketchbook @10ava01 @poppysrin @ashisabitgay @timhalamet @liv1104 @leeknows-wife @mxtokko @bugcuti3 @luvvfromme @midmourn @2hiigh2cry @yuminako @niktwazny303 @lukecastellandefender @intergalactic-padawan @iliketopgun @annybah @dangelnleif @thegrinningghost @alyssajunelle @obxstiles @m00ng4z3r @visndcaitswhore @b0ok-lover @elegant-face-tree @this-barbie-is-having-breakdowns @amortencjja @idonevenknow1359 @maliaaaa @targaryenluvs @sakyira @dhdjdjjdhsjdiri @number-onekidqueen @nininehaaa @bradynoonswife @stevenknightmarc @hoodedhavok @happy-mushrooms @homebyeleven @anotherblackreader @too-deviant @liviessun @lilacspider @theadventuresofanartist @sucker4seresin @simpforsunwoo @zanzie @starrystormwritings

[intheshadowsbehindyou]

hiiii! Can I request all mercs w/ somebody who doesn’t talk due to self consciousness, but to an extreme? Like smbody who only says a few words a month and talks rly quiet.

if you need to choose specific mercs, either medic, sniper, or Engi <3

/p

(Some) TF2 Mercs and a semi silent S/O

Warning: Medic. Just Medic in general honestly.

—————————-

Engineer:

- To be honest, he has no idea how to cope with this at first and he’s rather thrilled to meet somebody like this. Engineer talks people’s ears off when they’re willing to listen and you’re no exception. Your silence makes his flood gates of pointless information open up and one could easily mistake him for Scout in this moment.

- Uhhh… Why aren’t you responding to his theory on black holes? Eh, who cares. He stops talking after a while and you watch him scribble calculations on a small sticky note mindlessly. He doesn’t seem too offended by it. He’s more than happy to sit in somebody’s presence quietly all night.

- Engineer starts to notice after a while that you just.. RARELY talk at all. Not that it bugs him much, but he starts to suspect some sort of trauma disorder.. Or something along those lines. His mind is going crazy with possibilities as to why but ultimately never asks out of worry he’ll erode something you left behind in the past.

- Prolonged and completely dead silent eye contact is rather easy for you with him. Even if this doesn’t naturally come easily. You can’t make out any eyes behind those dark goggles of his. Oddly comforting.

- You swore you caught a smug smile creep up on his face a bit when you finally do say something. As if he was thinking ‘AHA! I knew my charisma would pay off eventually.’ This gotcha moment for him makes his ego massively inflate. This is Engineer. What do you expect? He knows he’s smart, and always plays his cards right. Manipulative bastard.

—————————————————————————

Sniper:

- Notices you’re starting to hang out with him more in a window he likes to camp at. He properly identified you as a fellow introvert from the start. Your mutism is noted, your presence is noted.. and rudely fucking ignored.

- Sniper doesn’t typically find anybody too interesting. Yes, even those who are quiet. He’s not a people person by any means, and only feels intrigue rarely. I guess you were that rare person evidently. He never even looks your way even ONCE as you sit there with him, but today was different. You saw his attention divert momentarily.

- “At least Y/N doesn’t fuckin’ talk my ears off like a bloody nonce trying to proclaim his innocence to a brick wall. You wanna know who drives me the LEAST insane in this bin? People like them. People who don’t talk their arses off and instead focus on a clean shot. Focus on the bloody job.”

- Next, you find an extra cup of coffee on the table in the nest that morning. It’s clearly not meant for him and you’re the only person who sits with him. He doesn’t even look at you as you pick it up.

- Begins to become slightly irritated when you break routine and don’t show up. Starts grumpily asking around for you and you notice this quite quickly. Dude has completely let his emotions clear to you and he’s oblivious to it. The reason you were absent that day is because you needed extra bed rest. (Existence is tiring.)

- You wake up to find him sitting at the edge of your bed reading a fucking newspaper. Yes, i’m not even joking. He’s so angry at you for not showing up that he decided to show up for you.

————————————————————————-

Medic:

- Medic doesn’t.. Process empathy/compassion like most people do. I’ve alluded to this before. He is very, very bad with emotions. For some reason your silence bugs him in a certain way. It worries him slightly, and he REALLY doesn’t like it. Especially since he can’t exactly ask the cause of it. He wouldn’t get a clear response back. Or just get shrugged off and assured it was nothing.

- You sit at the opposite side of his desk and hang out with him every night. Your sleep schedule had been recently fucked. Medic doesn’t even try to tell you to go to bed or school you on a night’s rest like he would everyone else. Instead when he’s not writing, he taps his pencil on the desk and stares at you… menacingly. Is he judging you?! He narrows his eyes. He’s definitely judging you. He has to be. Right?

- Indirect and awkward staring contest for a fucking hour. You begin to grow nervous because it’s like he’s trying to fucking beam thoughts directly into your head telepathically. It looks like he’s trying to use the fucking force to choke you. What the hell is going on through his head? Was he thinking about gutting you like he’s expressed for pretty much everyone else?!

- Stops staring to get up and use his coffee machine. Comes back and continues staring. WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON??!?!

[newluvrs]

Sungchan ₊ ⊹₍ᐢᐢ₎  mdni!! 18+ currently listening to: VENUS AS A BOY - BJORK word count: 3k bb note: sungchan is so Venus as a boy coded

Its 4:37 a.m. when you finally close your laptop for the evening.  Your skin feels like shit and you’re practically vibrating from the amount of espresso shots that were in your iced latte.  You haven’t moved from your desk since noon, only taking miniature breaks to go take a piss and grab a quick snack.  Finals week always makes you feel barely human.  When you finally turn off dnd on your phone, your met with a trillion notifications, but only a specific person holds all your attention.  Your heart lurches when you see Sungchan’s name under missed calls, you almost feel guilty recalling your demand you made earlier this week, almost. 

-

“Are you serious?”

“Sungchan, please I am quite literally begging.” 

“Baby, I just don’t understand why you don’t want to study with me...” 

You know damn well he knows why and just wants to make you say it.  You look at him with a bored expression on your face.

“You’re distracting.”

When he feigns confusion at your simple response, you roll your eyes before continuing.  

“Fine.  If you want me to be vulgar I’ll be vulgar.  We both know that I want to fuck you all the time.  You know that it only gets worse when I’m stressed.  I can’t sit there with you and just study when 90% of the time all I can think about is jumping your bones.”

“90% of the time, huh?” 

You want to kiss the stupid smug grin off of his face, but you settle instead for turning your back to him, trying to steel your resolve.  

“It’ll only be a week… it can’t be that hard, right?”

-

Except that’s absolutely not true because why would he ever make things easy for you?  It’s only been a few days since, and you can no longer count on both hands the amount of times you have had to stop yourself from driving to his place. It’s not even his fault, for the most part.  Your boyfriend is just so hot.  You swear BeReal is plotting against you when the timer has just so happened to go off every day this week when he’s in the gym.  How are you supposed to contain yourself when he walks around looking like that, and always so willing to give you what you want.  You’ve had to pause in the middle of studying a couple of times this week just to get yourself off.  Truly you are no better than a man.  

Sungchan himself has pleaded with you a couple of times to just let him come see you.  Trying to explain to you that you’re being ridiculous.  In his head he can’t understand why you won’t just let him be there to help relieve your stress.  He knows that you’re the insatiable one in this relationship.  You having explained to him after you first slept together that your sex drive tended to be high.  And he’s always been more than willing to help you out, whether it be fucking you exactly the way you need after a long day or bringing you to a tender release with his mouth first thing in the morning before you go to work.  He knows exactly what you need when you need it, so he can’t understand why you’re torturing yourself (and him) now. 

chan <3: plz let me come over 

Needless to say you absolutely weren’t expecting to receive a message from him this late at night.  

You: Why r u up??? 

chan <3: ochem :/

chan <3: I need to see u :(

You want to ignore the message, but you would be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t subconsciously press your thighs together.  All you’ve been able to think about since you last saw him is how bad you need him.  You can only do so much with your own fingers, and each time you get off has just been less and less satisfying.  Before you even get a chance to respond another message comes through. 

chan <3: im coming over

Immediately you rush to jump in the shower, not exactly feeling the most desirable in the ratty t-shirt you’ve been wearing for the last 2 days and your unwashed hair.  You tell yourself you’re not gonna let him stay over.  That all you’re gonna do is give him a quick kiss and a hug, just so that both of you can see that the other is doing fine.  And then you’re gonna tell him that you’ll see him in a few more days, after your last exam.  You say this to yourself even as you forego throwing on a bra.  You say this to yourself again as you pull up your sleeping shorts without putting on any underwear.  You tell yourself this one last time as you climb under your sheets, making yourself comfortable against your pillows.  When the familiar sound of your apartment door unlocking finally comes, you feel yourself become nervous suddenly, voice shaking as you holler that you’re in your bedroom.  

You try your best to act like you weren’t waiting for him, but you fail when as soon as you see him standing in your doorway you immediately open your arms wide for him to join you.  He lays himself next to you in your bed, wrapping his arms around your middle resting his head on your chest as you leave kisses on his forehead.  Immediately you feel comforted by his presence, your mood doing a 180. The both of you stay like this for a moment, just holding each other, feeling the exhaustion in your bones.  It’s him who breaks the silence. 

“Missed you.”  

He looks up at you when he says it, his tired eyes making your heart turn.  You can tell that he also just showered, his hair slightly damp and face covered in a light sheen from his skincare products, pimple patches and all.  You love being with him like this, tired and both of your faces bare, it feels like the both of you truly see each other.  

“”m so tired.” 

You sigh as you rub your eyes, truly you’re so exhausted.  Stress has been wrecking your body and making you feel wound too tight.  Not seeing Sungchan has only made it worse, making you feel touch starved and lonely on top of everything else.  He can already tell without you having to say it that it’s been a long couple of days for you.  He knows how hard you can push yourself to succeed.  Being told your whole life that you’re a hard worker only fueled your anxieties of being the best you could be, afraid to let everyone down.

“Let me take care of you.”  

You look down at him still resting his chin on your chest as he says so, his pretty lips pulled into a pout.  

“Just want to help you relieve your stress, will you let me do that for you baby?”  

You feel your pussy throb at this.  It makes you feel good to know that just as much as you always want Sungchan, he always wants you too.  When you don’t say anything he moves to slot himself between your legs, planting soft kisses against your jaw.

“I need to make my pretty girl feel good.  All I’ve been able to think about these last few days is fucking you.”

You can feel that he’s already half-hard as he rocks his hips against yours, a gentle sigh falling from your mouth at the smallest bit of pleasure.  

“..please.”  

That’s all he needs to hear before he’s pushing your shirt up to your hips, his hands moving to your waist as he pulls you fully against him.  He moves his lips gently against yours as you softly moan into his mouth.  You feel so sleepy even right now, everything feeling like a dream as he grinds against you, panting into your mouth.  

“Felt like I was going crazy without you.  I was waiting for a call from you, telling me that you needed me and I was ready to drop everything.  You’re all I could think about.”  

You might be the insatiable one in this relationship but Sungchan is a close second.  For every time that you needed him to make you feel good, there was a time where he needed to make you feel good.  There’s nothing in this world hotter to him than the effect he has on you.  

“Your stupid fucking BeReals made me have to take several… study breaks.”  

Your ears burn hot as you admit this, casting your eyes to between your bodies watching as Sungchan rolls his hips into yours.  Heat blooming in your chest seeing the way the two of you fit perfectly together.

“I wanted to cave so many times��� I’m happy you came over.” 

His heart swells in his chest hearing you say this. Placing a tender kiss against your cheek before he pulls away to pull your shorts off.  When he comes face to face with your bare cunt when he was expecting panties, he feels like he’s gonna combust.  

“Jesus y/n, you drive me fucking crazy.”  

He wants to be cocky about it, tease you for having such shit resolve when it comes to him, but he’s so hard it hurts.  You look so soft and tender, hair still damp from the shower, your old t-shirt still on along with your glasses.  He leans on an elbow as he reaches a hand down to play with you, when his fingers brush against your core you’re already soaked. When he looks up at you in silent awe your hands are covering your face, trying to shy away from his gaze.  

“I can’t help it..” You mumble out from behind your hands.  

He doesn’t want to make you wait any longer, slipping two fingers up and down your slit, coating them in your wetness.  He rubs them along your clit briefly just to hear your gasps, rutting his cock against your thigh as he does so.  He moves to pull your hands away from your face as he lines his fingers up with your hole.  Pressing them in he revels in the way you shut your eyes in bliss, mouth falling open.  He feels cocky now, smirking to himself at the way you moan when he crooks them up once they’re fully inside, rubbing up against your top wall.  

“Sungchan fuck..” 

You reach out for him, pulling him down to kiss you while his fingers play with you.  You stay like this for awhile, just making out as his fingers play with you.  He slides in a third to feel the way you gasp into his mouth.  When you arch your chest into his he almost dies at the way he can feel your nipples through your t-shirt.  

“You’re so needy, baby.”  

He presses kisses all over your face as he says this, sliding his fingers out of you to give your clit some more attention.  

“Why are your clothes still on.. this is so unfair.” 

He laughs to himself when you say this, finding it cute the way you try to make demands even as your body is twitching, caving in on itself from the pleasure.  

“Sorry baby, ‘m just gonna make you cum like this real quick, and then I’ll take them off, deal?” 

You can’t even process what he’s saying anymore, just nodding your head as you rock your hips up into his hand.  He slips his fingers back into your cunt, palm grinding into your clit as he finger fucks you.  You’re so distracted by his fingers you don’t even notice that he’s pushed your shirt up to your tits until you feel his mouth wrap around one of your nipples.  Unsure what to do with your hands, all you can do is claw at the sheets, body so overwhelmed from the pleasure.

You cum just like this, the only warning Sungchan gets is the way your body seizes up, your moans reaching a whinier pitch.  He groans at the feeling of you sporadically clenching around his fingers as he fucks you through your orgasm.  Only coming to a halt when you try and push his hand away.  You shudder as he pulls his fingers out, your throat feeling dry as you lay there, boneless.  He’s tender with the way he treats you after, leaving kisses all over your face.  

“So good to me baby, you feel better?”

You nod your head, slowly blinking, still trying to come down from your first high.  When you finally find the words to speak there’s only one thing you can say.

“Goddamn.”

You don’t even care that he smirks to himself at your comment, he deserves to be cocky right now.  When he moves back between your legs, you can already feel heat blooming again, setting your nerves alight.  You can see how hard he is through his sweats, dick straining against the fabric.  Sungchan already knows that cumming once is never enough for you, which is why you want to slap the smug grin off of his face when you hear him ask,

“You want to go again?” 

When you glare at him trying to seem threatening, he can only laugh at how cute you are.  Bringing his lips to yours to kiss the pout off your face.  He leans back on his heels to pull his long sleeve over his head.  You feel yourself throb when you see his body.  You were never one to care about muscles or whether or not someone goes to the gym, but you can’t help but admire all of Sungchan’s hard work.  

“Chan, you’re so handsome.” 

Sungchan feels himself blush at the compliment, filling with pride when you admire him so openly.  He goes to pull down his sweats, freeing his dick from the restrictive fabric.  

“You’re gonna sit there and tease me for not wearing panties, when you show up at my door without boxers on under your sweats?”  

You can’t even sound mean right now because you just feel desperate.  Trying to sound authoritative while simultaneously spreading your legs a little wider to make room for him.  

“Can’t help it I needed to make myself easily accessible to my baby.”  

Now it’s your turn to blush, rolling your eyes like you’re not affected.  He digs a condom from his pocket before sliding it on, you want to make a joke about why it was there in the first place, but the joke dies in your throat when he’s finally lining himself up between your legs.  He runs the head of his cock up and down your slit a few times before finally, finally, pushing in to your wet heat.  The stretch is so good, as he gentle eases himself into you, bringing a hand to thumb at your clit.  The slide easy with how wet you already were from your previous orgasm.  Sungchan loves the way your body opens up for him so easily.  

When he finally bottoms out, both of you just sit there panting.  You take in the sleepy look on Sungchan’s face and think about how yours must mirror his, recalling how it’s close to 6 a.m. now.  You bring a hand up to his cheek, just looking at him as you whine from how deep he feels in you, making you feel so full.  When you finally nod for him to start moving, he pulls out slowly before pushing back in just as slowly, hips reaching deep within you.  Sungchan knows that now is one of those times where you just needed to feel him close.  He fucks you just like this, slow but making sure to sink all the way in each time so you feel full.  

You’re so tired your eyes are starting to slip closed at the pleasure, just feeling so good and so sleepy.  Sungchan sees this and brings himself up to murmur against your ear.

“‘m I fucking you good?”  

All you can do is nod your head, gasping out each time he reaches deep within you.  

“’m I fucking you like you deserve?”  

When he feels you clench around him he keeps talking.

“My needy girl deserves to be fucked exactly how she likes.  You’ve been working so hard baby, just let me take care of you.  Let your pretty boy fuck you good.”  

Sungchan pulls away to rest his head in the crook of your neck, hips picking up the pace.  You bring a shaky hand to the one he has stationed by your head, urging him to lace his fingers with yours.  His heart feeling tender at the action, the gentle affection a heavy contrast to the way his hips are repeatedly rutting into yours.  The both of you are fighting to stay awake, fueled by the need to get each other off.  Sungchan knows you’re close when your moans start to change in pitch.

“You gonna cum?” 

Your eyes are squeezed shut as you hum a simple “mhm” back to him.  Sungchan uses all the energy he has left to fuck into that tender spot within you, hips refusing to let up.  

“Cum pretty girl, then we can go to sleep.” 

You just nod your head, wrapping your arms around him, trying to bring your face to his.  Sungchan takes the hint, softly pressing his lips to yours as he fucks into you one, two, three more times before you’re whimpering against him, body twitching as he feels you seize up around him.  He follows close behind, spilling into the condom as you twitch around him, fighting to keep your eyes open so you can see the way his face contorts from the bliss.  When he’s done going through the motions, he pulls out of you, hissing from the sensitivity.  He disposes of the condom before pulling his sweats back up, cleaning you up quickly with a damp towel trying his best to be gentle, putting a clean pair of underwear on you before finally sliding next to you in your bed.  

When he cuts the lights off you can see that the sun is starting to shine, both of your eyes feeling heavy as he wraps himself around you.  Before you both doze off you hear him mumble one last thing.

“I really did miss you.” 

You smile to yourself, placing a kiss on his pouty lips. 

“I missed you more Chan.”  

[hockey-fics]

That Week in Vancouver ~ Quinn Hughes

(Pt. 2 of That Night in Michigan)

"You can just keep believing whatever you want to believe if it makes you feel better about the way you treated me."

Word count: ~11,800

Warnings: some toxic behaviours (primarily arguing), drinking, language, smut.

A/N: there is a small potential for a part three, I have an idea for it but it depends on how motivated I am to keep going with this as a series. It's already gotten much longer than I ever intended it to.

“Do you have time to talk?”

There’s a silence that falls over the line that makes your heart race, your hands growing clammy. He had answered the phone at the very least, you had to hold onto some hope that he would be willing to have a conversation. It wasn’t a big ask, you didn’t need all day. You just needed a few minutes, a few minutes that could determine the outcome of your entire relationship.

“Quinn?” you whisper, unable to sit in the silence for any longer. 

“I don’t really have time,” Quinn tells you, his voice distant and cold. 

“Oh,” you mumble, your eyes prickling with tears. “When, um…when would you have time?”

“I don’t know,” Quinn replies quickly. “Things are kind of busy right now.”

Your breath catches in your throat and you blink quickly, trying to stop the onslaught of tears coming to your eyes. “Quinn, please,” you plead. 

“Sorry,” Quinn mumbles. “I’m sorry, I have to go,” he croaks, the first indication that this wasn’t as easy for him as he was making it seem. 

Before you have the chance to say anything else the call ends, your heart sinking with it. Pulling your knees to your chest you feel a few tears slip from your eyes. “Fuck,” you mutter under your breath, tossing your phone onto the couch beside you. Wiping the tears from your face with your sleeve you struggle through a few deep breaths, your breath catching in your throat each time. Was this really how it was going to end? A lifetime of friendship. Years of feelings. All of that to end without so much as a conversation. 

You don’t know how long you sit there until eventually your body is so exhausted from crying that you climb off the couch, heading straight to bed. At least if you were asleep you could silence the never-ending stream of thoughts about you and Quinn. It doesn’t take long till you fall asleep that night, sleeping till late the next morning. 

When you finally pull yourself out of bed you take a shower, your body numb as you go about some sort of normal routine, unsure of what else to do. Standing in front of the coffee maker in your kitchen you stare at the drops of coffee splashing into the slowly filling pot. Your phone vibrates on the counter beside you and you glance over at it, opening the text message from Luke. 

‘if I get a dog would you look after it when we’re on the road?’

Sighing you read the message before locking your phone, setting it back down again to pour yourself a mug of coffee. As you’re stirring some cream into it you hear your phone vibrate again. 

‘at least turn your read receipts off if you’re going to ignore me’ 

Picking up your phone you quickly send him a message back. ‘sorry, just not having a great day’.

A second later your screen is filled with an incoming FaceTime call from Luke. Groaning quietly you slide to answer it as you walk into the living room. “Hi,” you say quietly, flopping down onto the couch. 

“What’s wrong?” Luke asks, skipping past a greeting. 

“Nothing,” you mumble, fiddling with a loose thread on the blanket that was tossed over the back of your couch. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Alright,” Luke drawls, clearly not convinced. “So will you look after my dog?”

You can’t help but giggle, rolling your eyes. Luke was always there for you when things weren’t going well, even if he didn’t always know the appropriate responses to your emotions. “I don’t know if you’re even responsible enough to take care of a dog when you are home.”

“I am,” Luke defends quickly. “I just have to feed him and walk him.”

“And train him and brush him and take him to the vet and the dog groomer and make sure he’s getting enough exercise.”

“Yeah, yeah, I can do all that,” Luke says with a shrug. “I think it’ll be fun.”

“Sure,” you say with a quiet laugh. “I’ll look after him when you’re on the road if you get a dog.”

“Thank you,” Luke replies, smiling happily. “Now tell me why you’re so sad.”

Sighing loudly you toss your head back dramatically, staring up at the ceiling. “Quinn won’t talk to me,” you state quickly, knowing that if you didn’t just say it you wouldn’t be able to get the words out. “I called him last night, he won’t talk to me.”

“What did he say?”

“Literally nothing,” you mumble. “He said he didn’t have time to talk and he’s too busy to talk later.”

“He’s just upset about you and Holtzy,” Luke explains, as if you were completely in the dark as to why Quinn didn’t want to talk to you. 

“I know, Luke, I’m not an idiot,” you exclaim, eyes flooding with tears again. “Sorry…I just…I don’t know what to do. I miss him.” Reaching up you quickly wipe away the tears that had pooled under your eyes. 

“I know,” Luke mutters, nodding slowly. “Are you doing anything today?” 

“Not really,” you tell him honestly, shrugging it off quickly. 

“Get ready, I’m going to pick you up.”

“I don’t want to go anywhere, Luke,” you mutter, sighing quietly. 

“You just want to sit there and cry alone all day?”

“Oh my god,” you whine, shaking your head. “Leave me alone.”

“I’ll be there in like forty-five minutes,” Luke tells you, hanging up before you can argue against it. 

Sighing you pull yourself off the couch, finding an outfit for whatever this mysterious outing was. You busy yourself getting ready until Luke texts you, telling you he was there. Hurrying out of your apartment you find him idling on the street in front of your apartment building, hopping into his car. “Hi,” you greet, pulling your seatbelt on. 

“Hey,” Luke replies, waiting till you were situated in your seat before pulling back out onto the road. “Do you want like a coffee or something?”

“You’re trying really hard, aren’t you?” you tease, giggling quietly. 

“Yeah, I don’t want you to be sad,” Luke tells you. “But if you keep making fun of me I might stop.”

“No, please don’t,” you laugh. “Yeah, I’d love a coffee.” 

Luke takes you to your favourite coffee shop, after you gave him step by step instructions of how to get there. With a latte in hand you climb back into Luke’s car, still unsure of where he was planning to take you. 

“Where are we going?” you ask. 

“It’s a surprise,” Luke tells you with a mischievous smile. 

“I’m scared,” you joke, taking a sip of your coffee as you look out the window, trying to figure out where you could possibly be headed. 

Shortly after Luke pulls into the parking lot of a large building, your eyes focusing on the sign out front. “You’re unbelievable,” you laugh, looking at the animal shelter in front of you. 

“Come on, you know that seeing dogs is going to cheer you up.”

You follow Luke out of the car and towards the building. “We’re not leaving here with a dog, Luke,” you warn, stepping inside as Luke holds the door open for you. 

After talking briefly with the woman at the front counter she guides you through the building to the dog kennels. “Looking to expand the family?” she asks with a friendly smile.

“What?” Luke asks cluelessly. 

“No…we’re not, um, we’re-,” you begin. 

“Ew,” Luke mutters. 

Looking over at him you narrow your eyes, scoffing. “Well you don’t have to act like it would be disgusting,” you joke. “We’re just friends, he’s looking for a dog, I’m just the designated pet-sitter.”

“Well it’s always good to have a pet-sitter lined up,” she says uncertainly. “Anyway, I’ll leave you two to take a look, let me know if you have any questions.”

Walking over to one of the kennels you look at the tag on the door, reading it over. “Muffins,” you gush, looking at the small dog in the kennel. “His name is Muffins,” you repeat. 

“Muffins is ugly,” Luke mutters from behind you, staring at the little dog with scraggly fur, bulging eyes, tear stains on his white fur. Reaching over you playfully whack Luke’s arm. “Don’t be mean to Muffins,” you scold. 

“Look at this one,” Luke says, drawing your attention away from Muffins and to the large lab in the next kennel over. 

“You’re so predictable,” you tease, reading the description of Dewey the lab. The two of you wander along the rows of kennels, fighting against falling in love with each and every one of the dogs. By the time you were leaving that afternoon you were covered in dog fur, no longer quite as sad as you had been when you woke up that morning. 

Sitting in the car with Luke he scrolls through the pictures that he had taken of the dogs, clearly wanting to go back in and adopt one right then and there. Leaning over you look through the pictures with him, stopping him when he gets to a picture he took of you and one of the puppies. “Can you send that to me?” 

“So you can post it on instagram?” Luke teases. 

“Shut up,” you wine, rolling your eyes. “Yes.”

Luke chuckles, sending you the picture before setting his phone down. “What do you want to do now?”

“I don’t know, you’re the one who dragged me out.” Saving the photo to your phone you open instagram, adding the picture to your story with the caption ‘puppies really do make bad days better’, tagging Luke in the corner. 

“You’re so dramatic,” Luke says, pulling out of the parking lot. “Are you still going to pretend you didn’t have fun?”

“No,” you say, shaking your head. “Thank you, Luke…I do feel a bit better.”

“Good.” Luke turns down another street, seemingly on the way back to your apartment. “Quinn’s just an idiot,” Luke says suddenly. “He’ll come around, I promise.”

“I don’t know,” you mumble, glancing over at Luke. “I think this is different.”

“Why?”

Shrugging you look down at your hands, fidgeting with your fingers. “Because he’s never been like this before. He’s never been mean to me before, he’s never said things like…that.”

“What did he say?”

“He basically called me a whore…I mean, not directly, but it was easy enough to figure out what he meant. He said that I don’t think about anyone other than myself and that he’s done with me.”

Luke is quiet for a few seconds before looking over at you when he stops at a red light. “What?” he finally mutters. 

“Yeah,” you whisper, sniffling quietly. “Maybe it really is just time to move on. I just…I love him so much, I don’t know…it’s hard.”

“He’s an asshole,” Luke mutters under his breath. “I didn’t know that’s what he said to you,” Luke admits. 

“I didn’t really want to talk about it,” you tell him with a shrug. “I mean, I guess maybe he’s right, maybe I was flirting with everyone, I don’t know. I’d take it all back, it never even meant anything to me, I didn’t realize it was affecting him like that…I just…I just want him back. Maybe things will never be more than they were before, maybe we’re not meant to be together or anything but to lose him altogether, as a friend…I can’t handle that.” You hadn’t even realized how quick your breathing had grown, tears streaming down your cheeks. “Sorry,” you mumble, wiping the tears from your face. 

“You’re fine,” Luke assures you, glancing over with a smile so full of pity that it makes you want to hurl yourself out of the car. “Can I, um, can I do anything to help?”

Choking out a breath of laughter between your shaky breaths you shake your head. “No, I don’t think anyone can do anything to help.”

Luke turns into the parking lot of your apartment building, pulling into one of the visitor spots. “Well can I at least come hang out for a bit?”

“I’m not going to say no,” you tell him, picking your purse up from the floor of his car. “But you really don’t have to stay just because I’m sad.”

“You know that I actually like spending time with you, right? I don’t know why you’re acting like I’m doing you a favour.”

“I just don’t think that I’m that fun to be around right now.” Climbing out of his car you fish your keys from your purse, guiding Luke into the building. 

“Remember when I had the flu and you spent like a week taking care of me?” Luke asks as he watches you press the button for the elevator. “Was I fun then?”

“I mean it was kinda funny,” you say with a playful smile. “I would never have expected a little flu to take you down so easily.”

“It was bad,” Luke defends, chuckling as he leans against the wall of the elevator. 

A few minutes later the doors slide open and you guide Luke to your apartment, kicking off your shoes and heading for the couch. Luke joins you a minute later, grabbing the remote from the coffee table. “What do you want to watch?”

“You’re actually going to let me pick?” you ask in shock. 

“You’re the one who’s sad,” Luke reminds you, handing the remote to you. 

You pick your favourite show on Netflix, pulling your legs up onto the couch and curling up in the corner. You watch the show in silence for a few minutes before looking over at Luke, watching him type something on his phone. “Do you think he ever loved me?” you whisper, a feeling of shame washing over you for even asking the question, of wanting that reassurance. 

Luke is quiet for a minute, as if he wasn’t sure how he should reply, like you were a ticking time bomb waiting for the next thing to set you off. “Yes.”

Nodding slowly you turn your attention back to the tv, your vision blurry as you stare through a layer of tears. You didn’t know what else to say, didn’t want to talk about anything else yet you didn’t want to talk about it either. So you remained silent, watching episode after episode till you were beginning to drift to sleep. 

“Hey,” Luke whispers, gently shaking your shoulder. 

Inhaling sharply your eyes fly open, glancing around in a tired shock. “Hm?” you hum. “What time is it?…How long was I asleep?”

“A few hours,” Luke tells you with a shrug. “I’m going to go home now though, I have practice in the morning. Do you want to come? I’ll give you my bed again.”

Shaking your head you sit up, blinking tiredly. “No, no, that’s okay…thank you though.”

“Are you sure? Are you going to be okay alone?”

“Luke, I’m fine,” you assure him, swinging your legs off the edge of the couch. Standing up you pull him into a hug, resting your head on his shoulder. “Thank you for coming over today. Text me when you get home, okay?”

Luke waits for you to pull away first before saying goodbye, heading out to drive back to his place. After waking up a bit more you find something for dinner, calling your best friend to talk, needing to get out of your head. You end up talking with her for most of the evening before heading to bed rather early, the intense emotions of the last couple days catching up with you.

The next morning you wake up early, trying to keep yourself busy so that you didn’t fall into the same sadness that you felt the day before. You couldn’t spend the rest of your life wallowing. After having breakfast you take your coffee and grab your laptop, heading to the living room to sit on the couch. You pay a few bills before opening your email, your eyes narrowing in on one email from 1:46am. 

Flight Confirmation. 

Nervously clicking on it you scroll down, confusion building when you see that it was indeed a flight booked under your name. Then your eyes fall to the destination. Vancouver. Glancing at the date you realize it’s for next weekend, your heart racing. 

Picking up your phone you dial the number of the only person you thought would be buying you a flight to Vancouver. You listen to the dial tone for so long you begin to wonder if he wasn’t going to answer at all. 

“Hi?” Quinn mutters, his voice groggy and tired. 

Looking at the clock you realize how early it still was in Vancouver. “Shit, sorry, did I wake you up?”

“It’s fine,” Quinn mumbles. “Did you get the email?”

“Yes,” you whisper, your eyes not leaving the screen of your laptop. “Why?”

“Because I’m sorry,” Quinn says quietly. “I’m sorry I was such an asshole to you, I shouldn’t have treated you like that and I want to see you. If the date doesn’t work I can change the flight, just let me know when, I figured you have weekends off so I thought it would be better to pick a weekend but I know the flight is Friday morning so if you can’t leave that day I can just-.”

“This weekend is perfect,” you interrupt. “I’m sorry too, Quinn, I never meant to hurt you.”

“It’s okay,” Quinn assures you. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” you reply, not expecting your voice to grow shaky in the way it did. “I can let you get back to sleep now.”

“No, it’s okay, I was going to get up soon anyway.”

“Okay,” you whisper, still staring at the flight details on your laptop screen. “You didn’t need to buy me a first-class ticket, Quinn.”

“It’s the least I could do,” Quinn tells you quietly. “You’re going to let Luke get a dog?”

You can’t help but laugh at the question, pushing your laptop off your lap and curling up on the couch, staring out the window across the room. “I can’t really stop him…you’re his big brother though, maybe you should talk him out of it,” you tell him. “How long has he been talking about this?”

“Not long,” Quinn mumbles. “We talked yesterday.”

“Oh,” you whisper, wondering if wanting a dog was the only thing that Luke talked to Quinn about. “About a dog?”

Quinn is quiet for a little too long, your palms growing clammy, realizing that the answer probably wasn’t yes. “About you,” Quinn finally admits. “I um, I saw the Instagram story and called him. I just, uh…I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“And he told you I’m not?” you ask, though it was more of a statement than a question. 

“Not exactly,” Quinn replies. “He did make sure that I knew I was an asshole…not that I didn’t already know that.”

“If you already knew that why have you been refusing to talk to me, Quinn?”

Quinn sighs heavily, silence falling over the line. “Because I was hurt,” Quinn mumbles. “I was hurt and jealous and I don’t know…I just didn’t want to admit that. I’m sorry.”

You wanted to forgive him, wanted to tell him that it was okay. But it wasn’t. It wasn’t okay the way he treated you in Michigan, it wasn’t okay the way that the situation had played out since. Dismissing it, telling him it was fine, you knew that wasn’t going to help the situation. You needed to talk about it, to really discuss it. Maybe he was right in booking you the flight, maybe this just wasn’t a conversation that you could have over the phone. 

“What should I pack for Vancouver?” you whisper, doing your best to change the topic. 

Quinn hesitates a moment, clearly taken aback by the 180 degree change in the conversation. He tells you the plan for the weekend, primarily just that he had a game on Saturday, though he assured you that you didn’t need to go if you didn’t want to. You told him you did, making a mental note to add an outfit to wear to the game to your list. 

You talked on the phone for nearly an hour before Quinn had to go, not wanting to be late for practice. You spend the rest of the day preparing for the week ahead, grocery shopping, meal prepping, laundry, all the chores that kept your mind busy. 

The week went by slowly, each work day feeling never-ending. The closer you got to your 6am Friday flight the closer your anxiety gets to overtaking your excitement. Of course you wanted to see Quinn, wanted to make up for the months of not even speaking to each other. But you also knew that the point of this trip was to talk about what had happened, a conversation you were dreading having. 

Friday morning you wake up at 4am, collecting your luggage and climbing into an Uber half asleep. You’re not fully awake till you’re on the plane, the six hours ahead of you seeming like they were going to stretch on forever. 

By the time you landed in Vancouver your heart was hammering so heavily you were worried you might just drop dead of a heart attack right then and there. Your hands were shaky and clammy as you wiggled your carry-on out of the overhead compartment. You follow everyone off the plane, down the long hallway and to the arrivals area of the airport. 

Weaving your way through everyone around you stopping to greet their loved ones your eyes scan the crowd of people still waiting. When your eyes land on Quinn you nearly stop walking altogether, your heart stopping for a moment. Three months of not even talking to him made it feel like years of not seeing him. Hesitantly you force yourself closer, not knowing what to expect when you get to him. But as soon as you’re close enough Quinn has his arms around you, pulling you close against him. 

“Hi,” you whisper, fingers curling into the fabric of Quinn’s hoodie. 

“Hi,” Quinn replies, pressing his lips to the top of your head. “How was your flight?”

“Really good,” you reply. “I’ve never flown first-class before.”

“I’ll make sure you only ever fly first-class from now on.”

“Stop,” you giggle, shaking your head. “A seat on a flight is good enough for me…especially if it means I get to see you.”

“I love you,” Quinn whispers in a way that makes your heart skip a beat. You had been telling each other you loved each other since childhood. In the same way that you told Jack and Luke that you loved them. But your love for Quinn was so different and you weren’t sure what his admission of love entailed. “Should we go get your suitcase?”

“Y-yeah,” you stammer, nodding quickly, thankful that Quinn had said something to break you from your train of thoughts. Heading to the baggage carousel you wait till you see your suitcase, dragging it off the carousel. 

Quinn swoops in quickly, taking your bag from you. “Ready to go?” Quinn asks, gesturing towards the door. 

Nodding you follow Quinn through the airport and out into the cool air outside, rain drops hammering onto the sidewalk. “People weren’t lying about how much it rains here,” you comment. 

“You can wait here, I’ll bring the car around,” Quinn offers. 

Shaking your head you step closer to Quinn. “No, it’s just rain, I’ll survive.”

Quinn slides his jacket off quickly, wrapping it around your shoulders. 

“It’s okay,” you whisper, your eyes locking with his as he keeps his hands on the jacket wrapped around you. You slide your arms into the sleeves when you realize Quinn is not about to take the jacket back. “Thank you,” you tell him, pulling the fabric around your body. The jacket smells like Quinn, his body wash or cologne or maybe just his laundry detergent, but whatever it was it was it felt comforting, familiar. 

Quinn picks up your suitcase again and you follow him through the parking lot, quickly climbing into the dry car. Quinn is in the driver’s seat a moment later, starting the car before looking over at you. “Thanks for coming.”

“I just want to figure this out,” you say quietly, pulling your seatbelt on. Glancing over at Quinn for a moment before you turn your attention back to the drops of rain landing on the windshield. “I can’t lose you, Quinn.”

Quinn reaches over, his hand sliding into yours, squeezing it gently. “I know I fucked up, but I promise you that I’m not going anywhere.”

Sniffling quietly you nod slowly, not entirely sure you believed him. Sure, you were here with him now. But it seemed so easy for him just weeks ago, to tell you that he simply didn’t have any time to talk. 

“I’m sorry,” Quinn adds, squeezing your hand again before shifting the car into drive, pulling out of the parking spot. 

You remain silent through the entirety of the drive, your mind racing with thoughts that brought tears to your eyes. You knew what was coming. You knew you needed to have a real conversation about what had happened in Michigan, about what was going to happen now. But you didn’t know how it would go, didn’t know what Quinn would say about it, and you were scared that somehow, someway, it would only make things worse. 

When you get to Quinn’s apartment building you follow him inside, sliding his jacket off your body and hanging it in the closet by the door. You had never been to his apartment before, almost all of your time together was spent in Michigan. 

“Are you hungry? Do you want something to eat or drink?” Quinn asks, walking into the kitchen.

Shaking your head you rest your hands on the counter, looking over at him. “I think we should talk.”

Quinn nods, sighing quietly. “Yeah,” he mumbles, nodding towards the living room. “Should we go sit down?”

“Sure.” Turning around you walk to the living room, sitting on one end of the large couch. Lifting your legs onto the couch you pull them to your chest, wrapping your arms around them in an attempt to comfort yourself. “I don’t really know what to say,” you admit. 

“Me neither,” Quinn agrees, sitting on the edge of the couch, leaning forward, eyes focusing on the living room floor. “I know it’s not an excuse but I was so drunk that night,” Quinn begins, glancing over at you. “And I see the way people look at you, the way everyone just falls for you, which I get, but, I don’t know…it’s hard. Seeing you with Alex that day, on the dock, I was jealous,” Quinn rambles.

Nodding slowly you dig your fingers into your legs, forcing deep breaths into your lungs. “But you didn’t have to be so mean to me, Quinn. We could have just talked about it.”

“I know,” Quinn replies quickly, shaking his head. “I shouldn’t have said those things to you. I shouldn’t have treated you like that. I don’t have an excuse, I was hurt and drunk.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” you whisper, your eyes prickling with tears again. You had never cried so much in such a short period of time, had never expected to. “You know that, right?”

Quinn shrugs, his elbows resting on his knees, leaning forward to stare at the ground. “Yeah, I mean, I guess.”

“Quinn,” you croak. “What do you mean you guess? I promise the last thing I would ever want to do is hurt you.”

“Then why did you do it?” Quinn snaps, turning his head to look over at you. 

“I-,” you begin, shaking your head. “I don’t know, I really didn’t mean to, nothing I said or did with them meant anything, it was just-.”

“No?” Quinn interrupts with a scoff. “Nothing you did with Alex meant anything?”

“It wasn’t-,” you begin before getting interrupted again. 

“Don’t lie to me,” Quinn interjects. “I’m not that fucking stupid. I saw your stories with him, I know when you were going out with Jack and Luke that Alex was there too. I know you went home with him after you guys went out drinking. If you’re going to sit there and tell me that none of that meant anything then maybe none of the stuff you said to me meant anything either.”

“That’s not true,” you plead, eyes glossy with tears. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Quinn. I’m sorry, I really am. Yeah, Alex and I were hanging out but that doesn’t mean what I said to you wasn’t true.”

“If it was true you wouldn’t be fucking one of my friends,” Quinn mutters. 

Swallowing heavily you wipe away your tears, shaking your head. “You’re such an asshole,” you mumble under your breath. 

“I’m the asshole?” Quinn snaps. 

“Yes,” you exclaim, dropping your legs off the couch and standing up quickly. “You called me a whore, Quinn. You said such horrible things and now you have the audacity to get mad at me when I started spending time with someone who actually was nice to me after all that.”

“I did not call you a whore,” Quinn defends, staring up at you from where he was still sitting on the edge of the couch. "I would never say that."

“Maybe you didn’t use that word but how do you think I would take you telling me that I’m flirting with everyone, that I want the attention of every single man around? Do you know how bad that hurt, Quinn? You’re telling me that you’re not sure if you believe I didn’t mean to hurt you but you’re not acknowledging how much you hurt me.”

Quinn is quiet for a few seconds, his eyes falling back to the ground, not looking you in the eyes. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Maybe you should have thought about someone other than yourself then,” you tell him, repeating his words from that night in Michigan back to him. Maybe you shouldn’t be so petty. Maybe you should have been the bigger person. Maybe you should have let it go. But your heart was racing, your hands clammy, your mind scattered in a million directions and a part of you selfishly wanted him to feel the way you felt that night. 

Quinn visibly flinches in response to your words, inhaling deeply. “I’m sorry,” Quinn breathes out. 

You were already on your way towards his front door, body moving faster than your mind. Grabbing your purse you toss it onto your shoulder, yanking the same jacket Quinn had let you wear earlier off the hanger in the closet. 

“Where are you going?” Quinn asks, hopping up from the couch and hurrying over to you. 

“I don’t know,” you tell him honestly, spinning towards the front door. Your hand lands on the door handle just seconds before Quinn is wrapping his hand around your wrist. “Don’t,” you mumble, yanking your hand away from him. “And for the record, I didn’t sleep with Alex. I’ve never fucked any of your friends. But you can just keep believing whatever you want to believe if it makes you feel better about the way you treated me.” Yanking the door open you head out into the hallway, finding the stairs and hurrying down them. 

Outside the rain is still pouring heavily from the sky and you begin walking quickly, continuing till you find a coffee shop. Inside you pull the soaking jacket from your body, laying it over your arm and heading to the till. After ordering yourself a coffee you find a seat tucked away in the corner of the coffee shop, watching the cars passing, the rain drops bouncing off the sidewalk. 

You’re not there long before your phone begins vibrating. First with a call from Quinn. Then a text message. Then a couple more calls and a few more texts. Sure, you probably should have replied, but your mind was still racing a million miles an hour. All of your thoughts were so incredibly cloudy that you didn't even know what to say if you were to reply.

Eventually, long after your coffee cup is empty, your phone rings and this time it’s Jack. Sighing you slide to answer it, bringing the phone to your ear. “Hi,” you say quietly. 

“Hi,” Jack replies with an audible sigh. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” you tell him honestly, fiddling with the cardboard sleeve on your paper cup. 

“Where are you? What’s going on? Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m in a coffee shop, Jack, I’m perfectly fine.”

“Quinn is freaking out,” Jack tells you. “Can you please just call him?”

“No,” you mumble, watching a man walking by with his dog, the dog’s hair plastered to their body with rain. “I want to come home, Jack.”

“Oh my god,” Jack groans. “You two are so fucking annoying.” 

“Fuck you,”  you whisper, glancing around to make sure nobody in the quiet coffee shop could hear you. “Why would you say that? I haven’t done anything.”

“Both of you need to get over what happened in Michigan,” Jack tells you. 

“Tell him that,” you mutter, rolling your eyes to nobody but yourself at that table. 

“I did,” Jack exclaims. There’s a few seconds of silence after he says it, unable to think of anything to say. Because he was right, you both needed to be honest. You both did and said things you wished you hadn’t, both made mistakes. “Do you want me to book you a flight home?” Jack finally asks. 

“No, it’s okay…thank you though.”

“So are you going to go back to Quinn’s place or do you want me to book you a hotel room?”

“I could book my own hotel room if I wanted to,” you tell him with a quiet sigh.

“You’re always complaining that you’re broke,” Jack comments.

“I know how much money you make, Jack, I’m broke in comparison.”

“I’m never buying you drinks again,” Jack replies with a chuckle. 

“Please,” you say with a giggle. 

“If you go talk to Quinn and figure out whatever is going on with you two and leave me out it, then I’ll consider buying your drinks when we go out again.”

“Fine,” you whine playfully. “What do I even say to him?”

“I don’t know, just go talk to him. I’m sure you two will figure it out.”

“I’m scared,” you admit. 

“Why are you scared?” Jack asks, a sudden intensity in his tone.

“What if he never forgives me?”

“Just go talk to him,” Jack sighs. “He’s losing his mind right now, just go talk to him.”

“Fine, I’ll go back,” you groan. Standing up you pick up Quinn’s jacket from the back of the chair, pulling it on. “I’m sorry you had to get involved in this,” you tell Jack, picking up your empty coffee cup to toss it into the garbage on the way out the door. 

“It’s fine,” Jack assures you. “Just figure this out, okay?”

“Okay…we’ll try,” you tell him. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Good luck,” Jack says. 

“Thank you,” you say with a sigh, stepping outside. “Bye, Jack,” you say before hanging up. Hurrying through the rain you make your way back to Quinn’s apartment, stopping outside to text him to let him know you were back. 

Quinn is down in the lobby a second later, letting you inside. “I’m sorry,” Quinn says as a greeting, reaching over and pulling you into his arms. Your jacket is soaked, seeping into the fabric of his hoodie.

“Let’s just go upstairs,” you mumble, though if you were being honest the last thing you wanted to do was let go of him. 

Quinn pulls back, guiding you back into his apartment. You’re quiet as you pull off the jacket, kicking your shoes off a second later. Following Quinn back to the living room you slowly sit down, sighing quietly. “I talked to Jack.”

“I figured,” Quinn mumbles, sitting down across from you. “I’m really sorry.”

“Me too,” you mumble, looking across the couch at him. “I-,” you begin, eyes filling with tears again. “I don’t know how to deal with this, Quinn, I can’t lose you. I love you so much. I don’t know…I don’t know what to do.”

Quinn slides closer to you, pulling you into his arms. “I love you too,” Quinn tells you, pressing his lips to your forehead. “You’re not going to lose me. I’m not going anywhere, okay?” Nodding slowly you clutch at Quinn’s arms, holding him tight against you. “I’m sorry for everything I did, everything I said. I promise I’ll never talk to you like that again. I don’t expect you to forgive me right now, I know what I did was horrible.”

“I do,” you whisper, pulling back to look up at him. “I do forgive you, Quinn. I know you’re sorry, I really do. I just need you to stop holding me flirting with other people over me. We weren’t together. I’m sorry that I didn’t realize the way it was making you feel, I really am. But I wasn’t trying to hurt you, I wasn’t doing it to make you feel bad.”

Quinn reaches down, taking your hands in his, squeezing them gently. “I know we weren’t together, I know you weren’t doing anything wrong and I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you whisper, reaching up to wipe away a few tears that had slipped from your eyes. You weren’t even sure why you were crying anymore. Relief, exhaustion, an overwhelming level of emotions. “What now?”

Quinn shrugs, glancing over at the TV. “Do you want to go somewhere? Or do you want to just stay here and hang-out?”

“Stay here,” you tell him laughing quietly. You didn’t need a mirror to know that your eyes were swollen and red, that your skin was splotchy from all the tears you had shed. “If that’s okay with you.”

“Of course,” Quinn assures you, reaching over and picking up the remote. He hands it to you before leaning back on the couch, watching as you turn the tv on. “We can order dinner too, just let me know when.”

Picking up your phone you look at the time. It had been a long day but you were still shocked to see that it was nearing 6pm already. You pick a show, watching an episode before the two of you order dinner. The rest of the evening goes by quickly, most of it spent in relative silence as you watch a few more episodes of the show you had put on. 

Eventually Quinn shows you to the guest room and you change into some pyjamas before settling into the bed. You fall asleep easily that night. Maybe it really was just because the bed was so comfortable, but you’re sure there was more to it than that. 

When you wake up the next morning Quinn is already gone for morning skate, a note on the kitchen counter letting you know he would be back that afternoon. The note also told you that there was coffee in the cupboard and to help yourself to anything else you wanted. You were almost certain he bought the coffee specifically for you, something you confirmed when you found it unopened in the cupboard. After making yourself a cup you head to the living room, watching TV while waiting for him to get home. 

The sound of the front door opening draws your attention just a little after 12pm. “Hey,” Quinn greets, walking over to sit on the couch next to you. “How was your morning? I didn’t want to wake you before I left.”

“It was good, I slept in, that bed is really comfortable,” you tell him, moving closer and wrapping your arms around him. You rest your head on his shoulder, feeling his arms circle around you, pulling you closer. 

“It’s not bad,” Quinn says with a chuckle. “My bed is better.”

“Are you bragging? Because I am your guest and that’s kind of rude,” you tease, pulling back slightly to look into his eyes. 

“Maybe a bit…but I’m not stopping you from sleeping in it with me so I don't think it's that rude.”

“I don’t know, the last time I slept in a bed with you seemed like the beginning of the whole disaster,” you joke. 

“Too soon,” Quinn chuckles, shaking his head. He stands up and reaches down, taking your hand and pulling you to your feet. “Come on.”

“Where?” you ask, though you’re in his bedroom before he has the chance to answer you. You watch him lay down on one side of the bed, gesturing for you to take the other side. Walking over you lay down beside him, rolling onto your side to face him. “It is really comfy,” you admit. 

“I wasn’t lying,” he tells you with a chuckle. "I do need to have a nap before the game though."

"That's why you brought me in here? To break the new sthat you need to have a nap?"

"Kinda," Quinn admits. "And because I did actually want to brag about the bed."

Rolling your eyes playfully you sit up, looking down at him. "Okay, Grandpa. What 24-year-old gets this excited about a bed?"

"It was expensive," Quinn exclaims.

"I'm sure it was," you reply with a giggle. "Do you want me to tuck you in for your nap before I go or are you okay all by yourself?"

"Get outta here," Quinn jokes, shaking his head.

Giggling you climb off the bed, heading back to the living room to continue keeping yourself busy for the afternoon. It wasn't hard, after an episode of your favourite show you head to the bathroom, finding a towel and hopping into the shower. By the time you're out of the shower Quinn is already up, startling you as you step out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel.

"You scared me," you breathe out, clutching the towel to your naked body.

"It's my apartment," Quinn says with a chuckle. "Why are you not expecting me to be here?"

"I thought you'd still be napping. Must need a lot of beauty sleep to look that cute," you tease, stepping past him towards the bedroom.

"We can't all just be naturally cute like you," he comments before you disappear behind the closed door of the guest bedroom. It was such an insignificant comment but you couldn't stop your stomach from filling with butterflies regardless.

Later that afternoon you're in the bathroom, running your fingers through your hair, fixing it slightly. Your eyes shift over your shoulder, seeing Quinn appear in the mirror behind you. Your lips curl into a soft smile, eyes drifting up and down his body. Quinn was always attractive to you but you were more used to Quinn in a t-shirt and shorts at the lake than Quinn in a suit before a game. 

“You look good,” you tell him, turning around to look at him. Leaning back against the counter you watch Quinn walk closer. “Very handsome,” you add, running your fingers over the lapels of his suit jacket once he’s close enough to you. 

“You look good too,” Quinn mumbles, his hands landing on your hips. 

You feel your breath catch in your throat, swallowing heavily. “Can’t believe this is the first time I get to see you play in Vancouver.”

“Hopefully it won’t be the last,” Quinn replies, stepping close enough to cause your heart to hammer heavily in your chest. “You sure you’re going to be okay to get there alone tonight?”

“I’m positive,” you whisper, your eyes flicking down to his lips. Your heart was hammering so fast in your chest you were sure it was about to burst. “Good luck tonight,” you whisper. 

Quinn smiles softly, leaning in a little closer. “Thank you,” he mumbles, his lips nearly brushing against yours. You could feel your breath catch in your throat, your hands running up his chest, resting you arms over his shoulders. Just seconds before your lips touch his your phone rings loudly on the counter beside you, making you jump. 

Laughing you pull back, pressing your hand over your heart. “Oh my god,” you breathe out, reaching over to silence your phone. “Sorry,” you add with a sheepish smile. “Really ruined the moment there.”

Quinn chuckles, leaning in to kiss your forehead quickly. “I’ll text you later, okay?”

You couldn’t deny the disappointment you were feeling that the moment really was ending this way. But you knew that Quinn said he was already running late and you weren’t about to make him any later. “Okay,” you whisper, watching him turn around and head out of the bathroom. 

You order yourself dinner after Quinn leaves, hanging out by yourself until you needed to head to the arena. The sky is dark already as you climb into the Uber outside Quinn’s apartment building, pulling your seatbelt on. 

“Going to the Canucks game?” you Uber driver asks you, looking at you through the mirror. 

“Yeah,” you tell him with a nod and a friendly smile. “First Canucks game here.”

“First game ever?”

You can’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “No, I’ve been to a few before. Never in Vancouver though.”

“Oh, really? Who’d you see play before?”

“Mostly the Devils,” you tell him, realizing the more information you gave the more you would need to explain. “I’m just here visiting a friend.”

“You’re from New Jersey?”

“No, I live in New York now.”

You watch him glance back at you, clearly not following along. “Something against the Rangers?”

“I guess you could say that,” you tell him with a shrug. You’re at the arena shortly after, heading in and finding your seat.

The game passes quickly, your attention on Quinn throughout the entirety of the game. It was different than watching Jack and Luke play. It felt more intense, like the outcome of the game would somehow be an indicator of the outcome of this entire trip.

When the game ends and the Canucks win with a score of 4-2 you can't help but feel a mixture of relief and happiness. It really did feel like a good omen of sorts.

You wait around the arena after the game, doing your best to fill the time till Quinn was ready to leave. You scroll though Instagram, liking post after post till you hit the point of not having a single new thing to look at. Eventually Quinn finds you, pulling you into a tight hug. 

“Congratulations,” you whisper, not pulling back. “You’re even more impressive to watch in person.”

Quinn laughs at your comment, shaking his head. He had always been humble, refusing to accept your compliments. “Do you want to go out for a drink or something? I know it’s kind of late but you flew all the way up here, I don’t want you to just have to stay in my apartment the whole time.”

Giggling you lean up closer, your hands on his shoulders. “I’d be fine staying in your apartment with you the whole time.” You lean in a little closer, lips almost brushing against his. “Doing anything with you,” you whisper. 

“You coming out with us or what?” someone calls, making you jump back from Quinn, turning in the direction of the voice. 

Quinn places his hands on your hips, pulling your body back against him. “No, I think we’re just going to do our thing.”

The man in front of you chuckles, shooting Quinn a knowing look. “Sounds good, man, see you later,” he says before heading off in the other direction. 

Giggling you spin around, looking up at Quinn. “Well, where are we going for drinks?”

Quinn reaches his hand down, sliding it into yours. “It’s a surprise,” he tells you. Guiding you out of the arena and to his car Quinn opens the passenger door for you. You climb into the car, pulling on your seatbelt. A few minutes later you’re on your way, heading downtown. 

The lounge Quinn takes you to is small and intimate. The table you’re seated at is equally as intimate, tucked away in the back of the restaurant. Opening the menu your eyes scan over the options, more specifically the prices on that menu. Glancing over at Quinn you watch him look at the menu himself. It wasn’t that you didn’t have the money for the drinks, you just never would have picked a place so expensive yourself. You had also never seen this side of Quinn. You weren’t oblivious, you knew he had money. But you were so used to him with a bottle of some middle-of-the-road beer he picked up at the liquor store on the way to the lake house that you could barely picture him ordering a $25 cocktail.

“Do you know what you’re going to get?” Quinn asks before looking up from the menu, an uncertain smile on his face when he realizes that you're already looking at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” you say, shaking your head as you look back to the menu. “No, I’m not sure yet. What are you getting?”

“A sazerac, probably,” Quinn tells you with a shrug, the menu already closed letting you know it was most likely more than just probably. 

“What’s that?” you whisper, your eyes scanning the menu again.

“Whisky,” Quinn tells you with a quiet chuckle. “Kind of like an old fashioned.”

“Right,” you drawl, nodding slowly. You couldn’t say you were that familiar with the old fashioned either but at least you knew what it was. “I think I’ll try the clover club.”

A few minutes later you order your drinks and you lean back in your chair, gazing across the table at Quinn. Was this a date? You hadn’t even stopped long enough to consider that possibility. You had gone out so, so many times before that you didn’t think the suggestion to go out this time was anything different than that. 

“What are you thinking about?” Quinn asks uncertainly. 

“You,” you whisper, with a small shrug. “Us,” you add a moment later. 

“What are you thinking about us?” Quinn presses, leaning a little closer. 

“I don’t really know,” you admit, glancing down at the table for a second. “Do you think there’ll ever be an us to really think about?”

Quinn swallows heavily, silence falling between the two of you as he stares across the small table at you. His silence makes you nervous, shifting in your chair under the intensity of his gaze. “I hope so,” he eventually tells you. 

“I-,” you begin, your sentence getting cut short as your server returns with your drinks. She sets a coupe glass in front of you filled with a pink liquid, three perfect raspberries balanced across the top of the glass on a cocktail skewer. “It’s so cute.”

“It’s fitting,” Quinn says, picking up his glass and taking a drink of his own cocktail. 

You can’t hold back your smile at Quinn’s comment, rolling your eyes playfully. “Okay, Casanova,” you tease. 

“Am I not allowed to flirt with you now?” 

Giggling you shake your head, “of course you can,” you tell him before picking up your glass and taking a sip. It’s stronger than you expected, catching you off guard as you slowly set it back down. Maybe that’s why they were so expensive. “I asked for some time off work before I came out here,” you say suddenly, watching Quinn closely, trying to gauge his reaction. Of course it had been presumptuous of you to take the time off before discussing it, but you had the vacation days anyway and you had assumed two days probably wouldn’t feel like long enough. 

“Yeah?” Quinn says, reaching over and taking your hand, running his thumb across the back of it. “Does that mean you’re staying longer?”

Shrugging you stare down at your interlocked hands. “Depends if you want me to stay.”

“Of course…I don’t want you to leave yet,” Quinn tells you with a reassuring squeeze of your hand. 

“Good, because I don’t want to leave yet either,” you tell him. Picking up your glass you take another sip of your drink, the liquid going down a lot smoother now that you were expecting it. 

The two of you sit there at that table for hours, over multiple drinks and a couple appetizers. Your conversation is comfortable, the issues that had brought you to Vancouver in the first place no longer seeming so heavy or intense. Quinn pays the bill at the end of the night and your previous thoughts about the possibility of the evening being a date come flooding back into your mind. 

Walking back into Quinn’s apartment you kick off your shoes, sliding your jacket off. “Thank you for tonight,” you say as you hang your jacket in the coat closet. 

Quinn glances over at you, eyebrows furrowed. “Thanks for what?”

Shrugging you lean against the wall behind you. “I don’t know…taking me out, showing me a bit of Vancouver, paying for the bill.”

“It wasn’t a big deal,” Quinn assures you. “I wanted to.”

Reaching over you take Quinn’s hands in yours and pull him in front of you. “Just take the thank you, Quinn,” you whisper. 

“Okay, fine…you’re welcome,” Quinn mumbles, staring down at you. 

There’s an intensity in the moment, a heaviness in the air. Your heart was racing so fast, stomach filled with butterflies. The apartment is silent, so silent you begin to wonder if Quinn can hear it all. The shakiness in your breath, the hammering of your heart in your chest. The apartment is dim, lit by a single warm lightbulb a few feet away. Your eyes gravitate down to his lips and this time you don’t care how obvious it is. 

He begins to lean in and your patience quickly wears thing, fingers grasping at the fabric of his shirt, pulling him down to press your lips to his. His hands land on your hips, pulling them closer to him, your shoulder blades pressing back into the wall. Sliding your hand up you tangle your fingers in his hair, your tongue brushing against his. His grasp on your hips tightens, a quiet moan slipping from your lips. 

Your mind was hazy, your emotions overwhelming. Your body was begging for more, his hands on your body felt intoxicating. Sliding your arm over his shoulder you lean your body further into him, desperate to be as close to him as you could, desperate for more. When you pull away it’s to catch your breath, steady the racing of your heart. “I love you,” you whisper against his lips. 

“I love you too,” Quinn replies, pressing another gentle kiss to your lips. He’s smiling when he pulls back, reaching down to take your hand. He guides you into the living room, sitting down and pulling you down beside him. He places his hand on your thigh, fingers just a little too high for your mind not to be filled with less-than-PG thoughts. “Do you want to watch a movie or something?”

“I, um, y-yeah,” you stammer. Quinn knows what he’s doing and you can tell by the smirk on his lips as he hands you the remote. Taking it from him you put something on the TV, the very first movie you could find that seemed alright. 

You’re not watching the movie long before you feel Quinn’s fingers move on your thigh, a heavy breath escaping your lips. Your eyes flicker down to this hand, watching him brush his thumb on your leg. When you turn your attention to Quinn you see that he’s not watching the movie at all, his eyes are locked on you.

Pushing his hand off your thigh you swing your leg over his body, your hands resting on his shoulders as you lean down to kiss him. It’s fast and eager, your back arching as you roll your hips forward. 

“Fuck,” Quinn breathes out as he pulls back. “Baby, you’re…,” he begins, cutting himself off with a strangled moan. You didn’t need him to finish the sentence, you knew what you were doing when you felt him growing hard beneath you. 

His hands slide underneath your shirt, his fingers warm against your skin as he slides them up your waist. Pulling back you let him tug your shirt off, dropping it onto the ground beside you. Quinn leans closer, pressing his lips to yours as he unhooks your bra. You feel your bra come undone and you pull back. Your eyes lock with Quinn’s as you slowly slide the bra down your arms. It wasn’t like it was the first time he had seen you naked, but this time it was different. This time you were inviting him to do far more than just skinny dip with you. 

Setting the bra down Quinn places his hands on your waist, sliding further down towards the edge of the couch. Leaning in your lips lock with his again, your body begging for more. “Quinn,” you whimper against his lips. 

“Yes, baby?” he mumbles, his hands exploring your body, sliding to your hips as he tugs you in a little closer. 

“I need you…please,” you whisper. 

He doesn’t need you to say anything more, standing up and pulling you with him. He leads you into his bedroom, pushing you across the room till the backs of your thighs hit the mattress. Laying back on the bed you gasp in surprise as he lifts you further onto the bed, hovering over you as he unbuttons your jeans. “Quinn,” you gush. 

“What?” he asks with a smirk, pulling your jeans down your legs as you lift your hips to make it easier.  

“I just didn’t expect…this,” you tell him, sitting up as you push his shirt up his torso, letting him take over and toss it aside. 

“I can slow down,” he offers, running his hands down your thighs. 

“No,” you say quickly, giggling at your own eagerness. “Please, don’t,” you add. 

Quinn chuckles, nodding as he leans down, pressing his lips to your inner thigh. He moves further up your thigh, and each time his lips brush against your skin your body jolts with desire. Slowly he pulls your underwear down your legs, letting them drop onto the floor. Your breathing is heavy by the time his tongue brushes against the spot that you had been nearly begging for. 

“O-oh,” you gasp as he flicks his tongue over your clit. You weren’t sure what you were expecting but whatever it was you weren’t expecting it to feel this good. 

Your fingers tangle in his hair, back arching as you moan loudly. “Fuck,” you breathe out, breathing heavily. His hands wrap around your thighs, your fingers curling into the fabric of the comforter on the bed, trying to keep yourself still as waves of pleasure rip through you. 

Your body flushes with warmth, desperate to reach your climax as your hips begin to squirm. Quinn presses his arm against your hips, stilling them as his tongue flicks against your clit. “Oh fuck,” you whine, moaning loudly. A second later your muscles are tensing, waves of pleasure ripping through your body. “O-oh my god,” you cry out, flinching away from his tongue when the sensation grows too intense. “Okay, okay,” you mumble, hands cradling his face as you tug him back to your lips. Pressing your lips to his you kiss him deeply, your legs wrapping around his torso. “Please,” you whimper.

“Please, what?” Quinn teases.

Your breath leaves your lips shakily, eyes locked with his. “Please…I want you inside of me,” you plead. 

Quinn leans in, kissing you gently before climbing off the bed. You watch him open the nightstand, grabbing a condom. You reach over, taking his hand and pulling him towards you, till he was standing in front of where you were sitting on the edge of the bed. Looking up at him you unbutton his pants, slowly pushing them down. 

“Fuck,” Quinn breathes out, his hand on the back of your head, fingers weaving into your hair. You slide his underwear off a second later, your hand wrapping around his erection. Leaning down you swirl your tongue around his tip, taking him into your mouth a second later. He lets out a shuttering groan, his fingers grasping at your hair. “Holy shit,” he mutters. 

You take him as far into your mouth as you can each time you bob your head up and down, suppressing your gags as your eyes well with tears from the sensation. You can feel the saliva building in your mouth, wrapping your hand around the base of his cock, the saliva dripping down onto your fingers. Moving your free hand to Quinn’s thigh you readjust on your knees, the hardwood floor below you is not particularly comfortable, but the quiet groans he’s making make it worth it. 

A few minutes later Quinn pulls back and you wipe your lips with the back of your hand, staring up at him. “You’re so beautiful,” Quinn mutters, running his thumb along your bottom lip. He leans down to kiss you again, gentle and slow. 

Pulling back Quinn opens the condom, sliding it on quickly. Scooting back on the bed you reach up, grabbing his hand and pulling him down on top of you. He kisses you passionately as he slides his hand between your legs, fingers brushing over your entrance before slowly pushing one finger inside you. He moves slowly at first, brushing up slightly, sliding another finger inside you a minute later, your moans growing in volume. 

He pulls his hand back quickly, wrapping around his dick, sliding himself inside you. It’s slow at first, almost teasing as he watches you beneath him, moaning quietly. “Oh my god,” you whimper, your hands grasping onto his shoulders. “You feel so good inside me,” you whisper as he picks up the speed, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through your body. 

Leaning up Quinn places his hands on the backs of your thighs, gently pushing your legs back further. Sliding your hand down you run your fingers over your clit, Quinn watching you for a moment as your moans grow in frequency. “Oh, fuck,” Quinn groans, tipping his head back to look up at the ceiling. “I’m close.”

Your fingers pick up speed when you hear Quinn say he’s close, bringing yourself to the brink of orgasm just a moment later. As your body is overtaken by the familiar tensing of your muscles you cry out in pleasure, your free hand wrapping around Quinn’s bicep, fingers digging into his arm. 

Quinn finishes just a minute after you, groaning as his thrusts slow in pace, slowly pulling himself out of you. He leans down and kisses your forehead gently before pushing himself off the bed, heading towards the bathroom as he takes off the condom. 

Laying on the bed you stare at the ceiling, trying your best to catch your breath. It had been awhile since you had sex in general but a very long time since you had sex that felt that good. Your hand rests on your bare torso, rising and falling with each heavy breath. You turn your head to the side when Quinn returns, tugging on a pair of underwear before sitting on the bed beside you. “How are you feeling?” he asks. 

“Good,” you tell him with a giggle. “Really good.”

“Good,” Quinn echoes with a chuckle, leaning down to quickly peck your lips. “I’m going to get us some water, do you want anything else?”

Shaking your head you sit up, tugging your underwear back on. “No, just the water would be great.”

“I’ll be right back,” Quinn tells you, kissing your forehead again before leaving the bedroom. 

Pulling the blankets back you slide under them, realizing just how tired you really were. Quinn returns a minute later, setting a glass of water on the nightstand beside you. He joins you in bed, reaching over and pulling you closer. His fingers brush against your back, your arm resting on his chest. 

“Was tonight a date?” you whisper. 

A soft breath of laughter leaves Quinn’s lips as he tips his head up to look at you. “Well I thought it was but that’s kind of embarrassing if you didn’t.”

Giggling you lift your head, looking up at him. “I didn’t know but that doesn’t mean I didn’t want it to be.” Rolling over you slide one leg over his body, straddling him as you lean in, your lips hovering over his. “We can call it a date but I don’t usually kiss on the first date and look at where tonight went,” you joke. 

“Well I’m definitely looking forward to the second date then,” Quinn replies with a chuckle, his hands on your hips as he rolls you off of him to hover over you. “I’ll make sure you know it’s a date next time,” he says with a smirk, kissing you gently. “Get you some flowers or something.”

“Ooh,” you say with a giggle, running your fingers along his arm. “I love flowers.”

“I’ll get you all the flowers you ever want.”

“I didn’t expect you to be so romantic, Quinn,” you tease, leaning up to peck his cheek. 

Quinn shrugs, settling onto the bed beside you. “I’m not normally.”

Rolling your eyes playfully you shake your head. “Okay…whatever you say.”

“I’m being serious,” Quinn assures you with a quiet laugh. 

Turning your head your eyes meet with his and you realize he’s not joking. “Well please don’t stop, I like it.”

“I won’t,” Quinn promises, leaning over and kissing your forehead gently. 

Smiling softly you curl in closer to Quinn, letting your eyes fall shut as you feel the steady rise and fall of his chest under your hand. It doesn’t take long for you fall asleep in his arms, feeling an overwhelming sense of contentment that extends into your dreams, lulling you into a deep sleep.

Your eyes flutter open the next morning, rolling onto your side in the dim bedroom, the blinds blocking out the early morning light. “Good morning,” you whisper when you watch Quinn’s eyes open, turning on his side to face you. 

Quinn reaches over, brushing your hair behind your ear. “Morning,” he mumbles with a tired smile. “How’d you sleep?”

“Really good,” you whisper, unable to contain your own smile. “Did you sleep okay?” Rolling onto your stomach you move closer to him, resting your arm on his chest. 

“Yes,” Quinn replies, his hand sliding down to rest on your lower back. “Was last night okay?”

“More than okay,” you assure him, drawing imaginary shapes on his chest with your fingertips. “What do you want to do today?” you ask him, knowing it was one of very few days where he wasn’t doing something for hockey. 

Quinn shrugs, brushing his thumb along the skin of your lower back, sending a shiver of pleasure up your spine. “Anything as long as it’s with you.”

“What a coincidence…that’s also what I want to do today.”

You spend most of the morning in the apartment, not going more than a few minutes here and there without touching each other in some manner. Brief kisses here and there, a hand on your back, your arms wrapped around him. The afternoon brings you out of the apartment and into the streets of Vancouver, Quinn showing you around the rainy city. 

You spend the rest of the week at Quinn’s apartment. Watching movies on the couch, making dinners, going to another one of his games, afternoons spent at his kitchen table working through projects your laptop. You spent a night alone there when he had a road game, curled up on the couch in one of his t-shirts, watching the game on the TV in his living room. Everything felt so comfortable, so normal. Like this was the life you were supposed to be living. Just you and Quinn in an apartment together. 

But no matter how good it felt you knew it wasn’t going to last. You had to go home, had to get back to your job and the classes that you were barely keeping up with online. It didn’t matter how much you wanted to continue living in this blissful state with Quinn, it just wasn’t reasonable. 

Your time in Vancouver had to come to an end, the time slipping by so much faster than normal. Before you knew it you didn’t have another day or even another night together.  

You force a deep breath into your lungs, the lights in the airport feeling too bright, the air a little too cold, the bustling of people a little too loud. “Well,” you whisper, blinking quickly as you glance around, at anything and everything but Quinn. You were certain that if you looked at him a little too long you wouldn’t be able to keep it together. “I, um, I guess I should go…don’t want to miss my flight,” you mumble, though if you were being honest you wouldn’t be too upset if you did miss your flight. 

Quinn nods, reaching over and pulling you into him. The two of you stand there in silence, neither one wanting to pull back, not wanting the inevitable to happen. “I’m going to miss you.”

Sniffling quietly you curl your fingers into his hoodie. “Me too,” you whisper, pulling back just enough to look up at him, your hands still on his arms. “Don’t get too busy that you can’t talk to me when I call,” you joke, a sad breath of laughter following. Reaching up you wipe away your tears as you take a small step back. 

“Never,” Quinn assures you, a clear hesitation as he lets you go. “Have a good flight.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, slowly turning around and heading towards the security line. You don’t look back, didn’t want him to see the stream of tears that you had been holding in all morning running down your cheeks. You fight through your emotions till you're through security, finding yourself a seat to hide away from the rest of the world as the sleeves of your hoodie grow damp with the tears you’re wiping from your face. 

Who would have thought that leaving on such great terms would be just as hard as leaving thinking you were never going to see him again. 

[gullemec]

Cross the Line

Golden Cage - Chapter Five

Pairing: Billy Butcher x f!reader

Summary: Truth or Dare, Murder, and Sex. Or, you and Butcher go on a road trip.

Warnings: SMUT (18+ mdni), oral (f receiving), unprotected piv sex, nipple play, dirty talk, creampie, discussions of previous murders, language, unsafe driving, attempted flashing, One Bed Trope™️, reader has poor self esteem and is Going Through It, straight up vehicular manslaughter, brief description of dead bodies

Please let me know if I missed any TWs <3

WC: 7.7k

A/N: Here she is!! My first ever f/m smut scene! Please be kind. Also a very action-packed chapter. Please read the tags before diving in because there's a LOT happening here.

Monday morning rolls around with an alarming speed, the pace of your days having taken a decided turn toward the speed of light. 

It had nothing to do with your apprehension around being with Butcher again, you were sure. 

Certain. 

The plan, not unlike the last plan, is supposedly simple. As the CytoGenix van carrying the vials of V2 makes its way upstate, you and Butcher will tail it at a distance, waiting until the time is right to strike and run the van offroad using a spike strip.

You've thought up about two thousand ways this could go wrong. You could probably think of a thousand more, but your brain started to hurt when you tried.

You pull your bag over your shoulder, every step to Butcher’s van downstairs weighed down by a strange mix of adrenaline and dread. He’s waiting for you, leaned against the driver’s side door with his usual cocky smirk, dark aviators shielding his expression.

“Look alive, sunshine,” he says as you climb in. “Big day ahead.”

You settle into the passenger seat, forcing yourself to play it cool. The hum of the engine fills the silence as you pull away, but within moments, the tension in the van feels as suffocating as the thick summer air.

The first two hours crawl by. Small talk feels like dragging a boulder uphill, each attempt to bridge the gap between you met with curt, monosyllabic responses. Weather. Traffic. A half-hearted quip about a roadside diner that doesn’t even earn a smirk from Butcher.

It’s maddening. Days ago, this man had kissed you like the world was ending. Now, he's talking about the possibility of impending rain. You feel insane.

Eventually, you can’t take it anymore.

“Truth or dare,” you say, throwing it out like a grenade

Butcher glances at you, his brow furrowing beneath his sunglasses. “The fuck did you just say?”

He scoffs, muttering something under his breath about it being a child's game. “And how exactly do you suppose we play truth or dare in a moving vehicle, hm?” He asks. 

“I don't know, but what I do know is that we have a four and a half hour drive ahead of us and if this awkward silence is going to continue, I'm going to jump out of the window right now.”

He snorts, shaking his head. “What are you, twelve? What’s next, a round of bloody ‘I Spy’?” He shoots you a look of bemusement before returning to the road, ignoring your request. 

He's not getting away that easy. 

“Look, it's either truth or dare, or we talk about the k—”

“Jesus Christ, alright I'll play your fucking game,” he relents. 

Success. 

You nod toward him expectedly. 

“What?” He asks 

“Truth or dare? You have to pick, it's kind of how the game is played.”

“Christ,” he mutters under his breath. “Fine. Truth.”

You pause to think for a second, racking your brain for a good question. You could, of course, go straight for the jugular, asking him why he pulled away from the kiss, why he didn't push you down on the couch and take everything you were willing to give him right then and there. But you think that might be a little intense for a first question, so you settle on something easier. 

“How many people have you killed?”

His reaction is instant, an incredulous laugh that’s more bark than humor. “Straight for the jugular, eh? You don’t muck about.”

“I’m curious,” you say, holding his gaze. “Isn’t that the whole point of the game?

“Sweetheart, if knowing how many people I've kidnapped is a second date question, this has gotta be a fifth date question.”

“Okay,” you say thoughtfully. “Well, if you count all the late night stake outs, and if you count our first date, the one where you kidnapped, me as three dates, which I do, I think we're well past the fifth date by now.” You raise your eyebrows at him, laughing.  

“Alright, alright,” he huffs. The smirk on his face betrays the fact that he kind of wants to play, but his tough facade necessitates that he put up a valiant fight about it first. 

But once your laughing subsides, his grin falls, and you realize that this was perhaps not the best question to ask. His eyes are fixed on the road when he answers you. 

He exhales sharply, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel. “I lost count. Got to twenty-five, maybe thirty, last time I bothered to keep track.” His voice is calm, almost too calm, but there’s no pride in it. “You happy now?”

His admission is like a shock to your system. You knew that he'd killed before, having tossed the idea around in your mind, considering the things you knew about the man you were unquestionably attracted to. He has killed, yes, but he has also lost. He has lost everything, and he has helped, and he has been kind, too. And yet, hearing the words from his mouth, putting a number, if only estimated, on the amount of times a life has been lost at the same hands that were wrapped tenderly around your body only days ago, sends a painful jolt to your heart. 

“I know what you might think,” he starts, his voice faltering. “You think I'm cold and evil, or whatever.” His fingers readjust around the steering wheel, an anxious tic you're picking up on. “But I had to do it. I believed it was for some… greater purpose, I guess. I believe that, but maybe because I have to.”

You're speechless. You weren't expecting this sudden moment of vulnerability in Butcher, this emotional nakedness. If you're honest, it scares you, because it causes the sand beneath the already unsteady foundation of your relationship with him to shake. You have to say something, anything. 

“How do you feel about potentially killing two more people today? Does it make you nervous?” You ask. You're vaguely aware of the van driving ahead of you, a pinprick dot of white on the endlessly winding highway. 

He sighs, then smirks, looking entirely too pleased in comparison to his somber expression only moments ago. “Uh–uh, your turn now.”

He's got you there. 

“Truth,” you say, and it's only fair that he throws you a hardball too. But he doesn't. 

“What’s your favorite memory with your mum?”

The question throws you for a moment, its tenderness blindsiding you. You have so many, you could almost argue that this isn't an easy question at all. All the same, your mind wanders to the same memory that always pops up when you ask yourself this question. 

“My seventh birthday,” you begin, your voice tinged with nostalgia. “Dad was off in the Bahamas for some meeting, and I didn’t have any friends because we’d just moved. So it was just me and her. She took me to Coney Island, and we spent the whole day there. Rides, games, cotton candy. It was the best.” A tear twinkles in your eye, but you wipe it away before it comes to fruition. 

He looks like he's about to say something, maybe offer some comfort or ask a follow up, but you're too quick for him. 

“Now you, truth or dare?”

He picks dare, following your lead and ignoring what you shared about your mom. You appreciate his ability to pick up on your nonverbal cues. 

You resist the urge to reach across the console and brush your fingers through his wild, wind-tousled hair. You let yourself imagine for a moment a scenario in which the two of you are out for a drive on a beautiful day for pleasure rather than business, where you might entwine your fingers with his on the center console. But these thoughts are dangerous, and you need a distraction. 

“Drive in the oncoming lane for ten seconds.”

“Are you bloody mental?” he snaps, glaring at you. “We’re trying to keep a low profile, and you want me to pull a stunt like that?”

You shrug, and you relish in the utter frustration that Butcher exudes, the way his accent comes out in full-force when he's this worked up. 

“You said dare,” you counter, your tone teasing. “A dare’s a dare.”

He groans, muttering a string of expletives as he slows the van. “You’re a bloody pain in my arse, you know that?”

“Slow down a bit, so they won't see us,” you suggest, your voice low to control the giggles that threaten to peek out. “Come on, Butcher.”

He hesitates. It's a sick kind of satisfaction knowing that, if it was anyone but you, Butcher would have probably just let you jump out the window at this point. 

“One, twooo… Threeeee…” You exaggerate your words, giving him every opportunity to acquiesce to your demands. 

Finally, you feel the van slow and dip to the left as Butcher careens into the oncoming lane. 

This is getting too easy. 

You count out the next ten seconds slowly, agonizingly. 

Ten. 

Nine

Eight. He shifts his eyes between you and the road, imploring you to call off the dare. Absolutely not. 

Seven. 

Six. 

Five. A speck materializes on the horizon. An oncoming car. 

Four.  The speck transforms into a white sedan. 

Three. “I'm switching lanes,” he yells. “Three more seconds!” You argue back. 

Two. You can tell now that there are two passengers in the sedan. “Fuck! Fuckfuckfuck!”

One. The driver of the sedan lays on the horn, the loud bleat sending shockwaves through your system. 

Butcher swerves back into the right lane, a chorus of curses spilling out, the sedan’s honking fading out behind you. Your laughter spills out, obnoxious and loud and absolutely drowning out Butcher’s string of profanities. Shortly after he course-corrects, the white van falls back into your line of sight. 

No harm, no foul. 

Butcher’s breathing evens. “You’re a menace, you know that?”

“And yet, here you are,” you retort, still grinning.

“You better pick dare this turn. I didn't realize we weren't playin' fair,” he smirks, and you're knocked back again. It's criminal how this man speaks, so deep and yet so melodic, his accent and charm breaking down whatever defenses you still had standing. 

“Do your worst,” you dare, and he smiles widely. For a moment, you feel a real flare of heat in your chest. You don't want to think about what you'd realistically do for this man right now, but the thought crosses your mind, sending a pang to your core. 

“Flash the next car that drives past us.”

Now it's your turn to blanch at the request, your face scrunching up in response. 

“You can't be serious,” you say. 

He simply nods, keeping his eyes fixed on the road ahead in feigned concentration. 

Well, the best way out is always through. 

You pull your seatbelt off, balancing on your seat and the console as you pull yourself through the van’s open sunroof. You pretend not to notice Butcher's right arm snaking protectively around your left leg. 

You watch as a dark green truck materializes before you, a lone cowboy hat wearing man inside. You pinch your fingers around the edge of your shirt. The truck speeds by as you begin to lift it up. Suddenly, the arm wrapped around your leg pulls down, forcing you back into the van. 

“Hey! What was that for?!” You exclaim, annoyed at the unwelcome intrusion. 

“You weren't seriously going to flash that truck, were you?” He asks. 

You nod. “I mean, yeah? You dared me to do it. A dare’s a dare.”

He huffs and puffs, shaking his head intermittently. He's frustrated with you, and it's pissing you off. 

Time to turn the tables. 

“Okay, well it’s your turn now I guess. Truth or dare.”

“Truth,” he says smugly, and you laugh, because you know what you say next is going to shake him. 

You take a second to stare at him, an unabashed good look at him. The way the breeze tousles his dark hair, the angle of his jaw catching the golden hour light. The warmth in the glow softens him somehow, makes him seem almost human, almost kind. You can't deny that you want him, and you can’t shake the nagging feeling that maybe, just maybe, he wants you too.

"Did you like it?" you ask abruptly, your voice low but clear.

Butcher furrows his brow, clearly puzzled. "Like what?"

"When you kissed me," you clarify, your heart pounding in your chest. "Was it as good for you as it was for me?"

The silence that follows is deafening. You hear him inhale sharply, see the slight hitch in his posture as the words settle between you. His face shifts, something vulnerable flickering in his eyes, but it’s gone almost as quickly as it came. He stares straight ahead, jaw tightening, fingers curling around the steering wheel like it’s the only thing tethering him to reality.

Your pulse quickens. Oh, God. Why did I say that? The weight of your own recklessness presses down on you. Seconds stretch into what feels like an eternity as he struggles with something unspoken, his lips parting as if to say something—

Your heart stops.

—and then, with a sharp gasp, his hand slams the horn and his foot hits the brake.

"Oi! Cunts!" he shouts, jerking the van to a sudden halt. Both of you lurch forward, your seatbelt biting into your shoulder.

Your head snaps toward the road just in time to see the CytoGenix van swerving off into the parking lot of a run-down motel.

The spell is broken. The tension you’d built up between you vanishes, replaced by adrenaline and a sinking sense of inevitability.

At least he'd stopped you before you'd shown your tits to some unsuspecting cowboy. 

Butcher’s face hardens, his attention fully back on the road as he mutters a string of curses under his breath. He keeps driving for another mile, the air in the van heavy and stifling. It’s as though the cracks you’d glimpsed in his armor have sealed up entirely, leaving only the impenetrable man you met at the start.

Finally, he pulls off just past a mile marker, the van grinding to a halt on the side of the road. He throws it in park and turns to you, his expression unreadable.

"Out," he orders, his voice clipped.

You blink at him. "What?"

"Get out of the van," he repeats, this time more firmly.

Despite every instinct screaming at you not to trust him, you obey. He follows you out, slamming the door behind him, and gestures toward the dense line of trees. "Start walking. Don’t stop ‘til you’re deep enough in that you can’t see the road anymore."

“Now wait a goddamn minute,” you fight, “I want to be a part of this. You're not exiling me to the woods while you do the dirty work. I’m coming with you.”

“You’re not,” he snaps, his tone cold and final. “You don’t want this blood on your hands, love. Trust me.”

Your temper flares. "You’re such an asshole, you know that?" you spit, heat rushing to your face.

You're all bite, all fight, until you see the look on his face. The harsh lines of his face are softened, his eyes weighed down with something heavier than anger. Guilt? Regret? He doesn’t want to do this, you realize. He thinks he’s protecting you.

And maybe you just don't have much of a fight left in you anymore.

You swallow hard, clenching your fists. "Fine," you say through gritted teeth. "But don’t think for a second I’m letting this go."

Without waiting for a response, you storm off into the forest, branches snapping underfoot as you push past ferns and brush.

You find a mossy rock and sink down beside it, hugging your knees to your chest. The familiar ache of being abandoned washes over you, pulling you back into yourself. You wrap your arms tightly around your body, closing your eyes and imagining the comforting embrace of your mother. The memories come easily, like they always do. Her laugh, her warmth, the way her hand always found yours when you were scared.

You lose track of time sitting there, flipping through those memories like pages in a well-worn book. Hours could have passed, or maybe it’s only minutes. You don’t know, and for a while, you don’t care.

It’s the crunch of heavy footfalls that pulls you back to the present. You blink up to see Butcher looming over you, his expression grim and drawn.

"If a van crashes in the forest and no one’s around to hear it, does it even make a noise?" you quip, smirking despite yourself.

He scowls. "What the fuck are you on about now?"

"Either that was the quietest car crash in history, or you lost them," you say, crossing your arms.

He sighs, dragging a hand down his face. "They never came through. They’re holed up at the motel for the night. We’ll head back, stake it out, and wait for them to move on." He jerks his thumb over his shoulder toward the road.

He extends a hand to help you up, but you ignore it, pushing yourself off the ground and brushing dirt from your clothes. Without a word, you start walking ahead of him, back toward the van.

"Bloody hell," he mutters under his breath, falling in step behind you. 

The short drive back to the motel is silent, the energy between the two of you having soured considerably. You stare out the window, arms crossed, seething. You're pissed and you want him to know it, to feel it. The mission feels like a joke, like you’re a joke. No matter what you do, you’ll always be the inept kid getting in the way.

The Piney Point Motel comes into view just as the sun dips behind the pines, the sky streaked in pinks and oranges. You spot the CytoGenix van immediately, parked conspicuously by the entrance of the motel. As far as you can tell, it's empty. 

“Did they really just… leave it there?” You ask, incredulous. 

Butcher chuckles. “Your old man really should stop cuttin’ corners on security.”

A flurry of hope stirs in your chest. “So we could just break into the van and steal the vials, right? And then no one would have to get hurt?”

He gives you a look, one that’s half pity, half impatience, before gesturing to the motel’s facade. Security cameras dot the walls, floodlights primed for motion. “Sorry, sweetheart. Looks like your dad could learn a thing or two from Piney Point.”

And just like that, the spark fizzles. 

Butcher pulls the van into a shadowed corner of the lot and kills the engine. He leans back in his seat, arms crossed.

You stare at him. “Well, are we going in?”

“Nah. You can crawl in the back if you wanna sleep. I'll take first watch.”

He can't be serious. 

“You want me to sleep back there?!”

He shrugs. “Or up here, but I don’t reckon it’s any comfier.”

You shoot him an incredulous look. “Or—and hear me out—we could sleep in the motel right in front of us?”

“And risk losin’ ‘em? Yeah, no thanks.”

You argue back and forth but the man is an infuriating, unflinching wall of stubbornness. Eventually, you give up, arms crossed as you glare at the moonlit motel. You consider going and getting a room just for yourself, but you reason that Butcher won't hesitate when he sees the men leave and you'll be left behind. Sleep tugs at you, but you refuse to crawl into the cramped backseat. Not after this.

The moon begins its arc across the starlit sky. Stars scatter above you, brighter and clearer than anything you’ve seen in years. You step out of the van, stretching stiff legs, the cool night air brushing against your skin. For a moment, you forget your frustration, gazing up at the wide, sparkling sky. It reminds you of Muskoka, your last vacation with both parents—before the office bedroom became your dad’s permanent home.

The ache of the memory lingers as you climb back into the van, only to find Butcher slumped in the driver’s seat, snoring. His chin tucked into his chest, a low rumble filling the space. You burst into laughter before you can stop yourself.

Butcher jerks awake, eyes darting wildly until they land on you. His expression shifts to a mix of annoyance and embarrassment.

“Alright, laugh it up,” he grumbles, voice gravelly from sleep. “Your turn to keep watch. Good luck stayin’ awake.”

You plant your hands on your hips, glaring at him. “I’m dead tired, and so are you. We need actual sleep, Butch. I’ll pay for the rooms. Final offer.”

He pretends to consider your offer like the thought of a bed, even a springy motel bed, doesn't sound downright heavenly right now. After a moment of feigned thoughtfulness, he pulls himself from the driver's seat and stalks toward the motel. 

“Don't look so pleased,” he mutters as he stalks past you. “We’re up at 4:30, no later. Understand?”

You trail behind him, hiding your grin. Right now, you’d agree to anything.

~~~

The reception area of the Piney Point Motel looks like it hasn’t been updated since the 1970s. The wood-paneled walls are warped in places, lined with crooked shelves cluttered with knick-knacks, miniature ceramic animals, a faded “World’s Best Grandma” mug, and a jar of mints that looks more like a trap than an offering.

Behind the counter sits a bespectacled woman in her sixties, a paperback romance novel in one hand and a cigarette smoldering in the ashtray beside her. The air smells like pine-scented cleaner and stale smoke. She looks up as you and Butcher enter, giving you both a thorough once-over.

“Hourly or overnight?” she asks flatly, like she’s heard every excuse in the book.

The question hits you like a slap. Your jaw drops. “Excuse me?”

Butcher doesn’t miss a beat. “We’ll take two rooms for the night,” he says, ignoring your mortification.

The receptionist shakes her head with a lazy shrug. “Only got one room left. One bed. Last two-bed went to a couple of truckers about an hour ago. It’s that time of year.”

You and Butcher exchange a look, sharp and synchronized.

“No,” you and Butcher say in unison, your sharp tone and immediate refusal surprising the older woman. 

But your mind wanders back to the van, it's aging leather upholstery and stiff cushions and lingering coffee smell. The weight of your eyelids expands tenfold at the thought. No way in hell are you going to be prepared for what tomorrow brings if you have to sleep in there. 

“Fine,” you sigh, taking the key from the receptionist’s outstretched hand, replacing it with a stack of bills.

“What d’you mean, fine?” Butcher asks, trailing after you as you head to the room. His boots echo dully on the cracked linoleum floor. “We’re better off in the van. Safer, too.”

You ignore him, jamming the key into the lock and twisting hard. The door creaks open to reveal a shoebox-sized room with peeling wallpaper, a squeaky ceiling fan, and a bed that looks like it’s seen more fights than rest.

Still, it’s a bed.

Without a word, Butcher follows you inside, closing the door behind him. For a man so determined to sleep in the van, he seems strangely reluctant to leave now. You glance at him, confused but unwilling to ask.

“You’re not staying, are you?” you finally say, half-turning to face him.

“’Course I’m stayin’,” he replies, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Not leavin’ you alone in some dodgy motel where the closest weapon’s probably that broken lamp in the corner.”

You blink at him, torn between irritation and a flicker of gratitude. Before you can respond, he smirks and brushes past you toward the bed.

“Dibs,” he declares, flopping onto the mattress with all the grace of a drunk elephant. The springs groan in protest, but he doesn’t care.

“No, no! Absolutely not!” You shout, but he's already stretched his arms behind his head, feet crossed. “You're not taking the bed, you didn't even want this room!”

“And yet, here I am,” he replies, tucking his hands behind his head. The smugness radiating off him is enough to set your teeth on edge.

“You're an asshole, you know that right?”

“Yeah, you keep remindin’ me,” he says with a grin. “Now are you gonna stand there gawkin’ all night, or are you gonna make yourself comfortable?”

You grab the pillow out from behind his head and secure it alongside yours down the middle of the bed, creating a makeshift wall between your bodies. 

“What’s this, then?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“The Great Wall of Don’t-Touch-Me,” you deadpan, climbing onto your side of the bed and glaring at him over the makeshift divider.

He chuckles, low and amused. “You think I’m gonna bite?”

“More likely that I’d be the one biting you,” you retort before you can stop yourself.

The second the words leave your mouth, your cheeks flush hot. You busy yourself adjusting your pillow, pretending you don’t see the way his grin widens.

“Noted,” he says, voice dipping just enough to make you shiver.

You roll over, facing the wall. The bed creaks as Butcher shifts, and you’re hyper-aware of his presence. His scent, the warmth radiating off him, the way the air seems heavier when he’s near.

Neither of you bother crawling under the covers, facing away from each other to make it extra-clear that this is a no-nonsense, all-business sleepover. 

“Goodnight, asshole,” you mutter, hoping the bite in your tone masks the thrum of nerves in your chest.

“’Night, sweetheart,” he replies, his voice softer than you expect.

You want to savour this moment, but you're out in seconds. 

~~~

Suspended in a haze of warm sunlight, the cool edge of unreality covers you like a blanket of fresh snow. Strong arms wrap securely around your waist, across your chest, their weight pressing into you like a protective cocoon. The scratch of a beard grazes your neck, and the faint warmth of breath tickles your skin. Gentle snores vibrate against your back, a low, steady rhythm that lulls you further into the dreamlike state. You fight to stay there, curling deeper into the embrace, savoring the rare, fleeting serenity.

But serenity never lasts. A creeping discomfort nags at the edges of your mind, like an itch you can’t quite reach. The illusion splinters. The sunlight grows sharper, the weight around you heavier, the awkward press of something hard on your ass undeniable.

Your eyes snap open, reality crashing in. It’s blindingly bright, far too bright for what should be the early, predawn hours. Panic spikes through your system as you take in the scene, your body reacting before your brain catches up. You thrash instinctively, and Butcher’s grip loosens just in time for him to tumble unceremoniously off the bed.

“Bloody hell!” Butcher groans from the floor, rubbing the back of his head.

Your voice comes out in a frantic rasp. “Butcher, wake up! We slept in!”

The words are like a starter pistol. He’s up and moving in an instant, yanking on his boots while simultaneously reaching for the door.

“Shit! Goddamn it, move! Move!” he barks, his voice sharp and commanding.

The two of you are a blur of motion, grabbing, stumbling, swearing. Your bodies move on autopilot, faster than your sleep-addled minds can process. In seconds, you’re in the van, Butcher slamming the door shut and peeling out of the motel parking lot with reckless urgency.

Anxiety builds in your chest, each erratic swerve of the van feeding the dread coiling tighter inside you. As you glance back at the motel, the sight of an empty parking spot—a lone Mustang where the CytoGenix van had been—confirms your worst fears. They’re gone.

Butcher’s jaw tightens as he accelerates onto the highway, weaving through lanes with a focus that’s almost terrifying. The towering pines blur into streaks of green on either side of you as the van hurtles forward. You scan the horizon frantically, desperate for a glimpse of white metal that refuses to appear.

Minutes stretch into what feels like hours before Butcher finally slows the van, pulling into a deserted roadside gas station. It’s eerily quiet, the pumps sitting idle, the building dark and lifeless.

“This is the last stop for miles,” Butcher says, his voice low and grim. “That's the last stop they would've made before going to the lab.”

The weight of his words slams into you, stealing the breath from your lungs. Your heart races, panic tightening its grip. This was it, the window of opportunity to intercept them had closed. It was all your fault. You’d fought tooth and nail for the motel room last night, insisting you both needed the rest, convincing yourself it was a small indulgence that wouldn’t jeopardize the mission.

You were wrong.

Maybe he was right, maybe your father was right, maybe they're all right, everyone who's ever doubted you. It's cruel, the way that the frayed threads of meaning in your life seem to continually fall from your grasp. 

Shame and guilt crash over you in waves, heat rising in your face as your chest constricts painfully. You blink back tears, but they gather stubbornly at the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill over.

“Butcher, I’m so sorry,” you stammer, your voice trembling. “I—I screwed up. This is all my fault.”

He doesn’t respond immediately, his expression unreadable as he stares out the windshield. The silence stretches, unbearable. Fear claws at you, the thought of him cutting you loose from the Boys—or worse, giving up on the mission entirely—hitting like a punch to the gut.

“Please,” you continue, desperation creeping into your tone. “I know I fucked up, but don’t… don’t give up on this. Don’t give up on me.”

Butcher’s head swivels toward you, his eyes softer than you expect. His voice, when he speaks, is gentle, almost unrecognizably so.

“Hey,” he says, holding up a hand. “Breathe. It’s okay. Hold your apologies, yeah? We’re not done yet. I’ve got one more trick up my sleeve.”

You blink at him, stunned into silence. This wasn’t the reaction you were expecting, not the anger, the harsh words, the fury you thought you deserved. Instead, his calm confidence throws you off balance, grounding you in a way you hadn’t realized you needed.

“Butcher…” you whisper, your voice catching in your throat.

“Just wait,” he says, lips quirking into a faint, reassuring smirk. “Keep it together. We’ve still got work to do.”

With that, his foot presses down on the gas pedal, the van lurching forward and pinning you back against the seat.

You're certain you've never driven this fast before, not even during those rare joyrides with your father in his Bugatti. The van rockets forward, moving like a bullet out of a gun, the world outside warping into a blur of trees and sky as the tires scream against the asphalt. Your grip on the door handle tightens with every jolt, the tension in the cabin as visceral as the adrenaline coursing through your veins.

Despite the chaos of the day, the abrupt wake-up, the panic, and Butcher’s uncharacteristic gentleness, the unbridled anxiety screaming inside you speaks only of the lives of the two men in the CytoGenix van, unknowingly hurtling toward their end. Anxiety claws at your chest, raw and unrelenting. You shut your eyes and try to focus on breathing, but it’s no use.

“Oi, cunts!” Butcher’s voice explodes, and your eyes snap open.

Thirty feet ahead, the CytoGenix van comes into view, its white exterior glaring against the green blur of forest on either side. To your right, the trees abruptly fall away, leaving nothing but a battered guardrail and a steep ravine beyond.

“Hold on tight,” Butcher orders, his tone calm but edged with a manic sort of energy.

Before you can question him, he floors the gas pedal. The van lurches forward, barreling into the oncoming lane to overtake the other vehicle. Butcher twists the wheel expertly, positioning your van just ahead of the CytoGenix one. Then, in one brutal motion, he jerks back and rams into the side of it.

The impact is bone-rattling. Your body slams against the seatbelt, the van shuddering violently as both vehicles swerve erratically. For a moment, you lock eyes with the other driver, his face contorted in a mix of rage and confusion. But Butcher’s already at it again, pulling back just enough to ram the CytoGenix van a second time.

This hit sends the other van wobbling wildly, the driver fighting to regain control. Your ears ring, blood rushing so loudly that you’re not sure if the scream you hear is yours or simply imagined. And then, with a final, sickening crunch, the CytoGenix van plows through the guardrail and plunges down the ravine.

Butcher swerves hard, narrowly avoiding the gaping hole in the guardrail. The side of your van scrapes against what remains, metal shrieking as sparks fly. He brings the van to an abrupt stop on the shoulder a hundred yards ahead, slamming the gearshift into park. The engine dies, leaving only the sound of your ragged breathing in the cabin.

“Holy shit,” you whisper, your voice trembling.

“Holy shit,” Butcher echoes, his grin wide and reckless.

You both sit there for a moment, staring straight ahead, before the tension breaks. Anxious laughter bubbles out of you, and to your surprise, Butcher joins in. The two of you volley expletives back and forth between bursts of laughter, the absurdity of the situation sinking in.

When the laughter subsides, Butcher reaches for the door handle. “Stay put,” he says firmly. “You’re not gonna want to see this.”

That sends your adrenaline spiking all over again. You throw your door open and stomp after him, slamming it behind you. “No. You’re not doing this. Not again.”

He turns to face you, brows furrowed. You jab a finger into his chest. “I’m capable of this, Butcher. And if I’m going to be part of the Boys, I need to prove it. No more babying me.”

For a long moment, he just stares at you, his hazel eyes searching yours. The tension between you is almost unbearable as you silently plead with him to understand. To let you have this. To understand just how important this is, how this transcends the circumstances you currently find yourselves in. Finally, his shoulders sag slightly, and he gives a curt nod. “Fine. But don’t make me regret it.”

Together, you make your way down the ravine, the incline steep and unforgiving. Butcher offers his arm to steady you when you stumble, and you grudgingly accept. At the bottom, the wreckage comes into view. The CytoGenix van lies on its side in a shallow creek bed, its back doors hanging open.

You rush to the driver’s side, heart hammering in your chest as you peer inside. For the past week, nightmares have plagued you—visions of Adam and Emily lying lifeless in the wreckage. But when you see the two men slumped in their seats, necks twisted at unnatural angles, neither is familiar. Relief washes over you, mingling uneasily with guilt.

“They’re nobodies,” you murmur, more to yourself than to Butcher. “Collateral damage.”

His hand falls heavy on your shoulder. “The hard part’s over,” he says, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. “It gets easier from here.”

You desperately want to believe him. 

You both turn your attention to the back of the van. Butcher grips one of the broken doors and yanks it free with a grunt. Inside, a sleek black lockbox gleams ominously. Without hesitation, Butcher brings his boot down on it, cracking it open.

Inside are rows upon rows of vials, their green liquid glowing faintly in the fading light. You pick one up, holding it between your fingers and marveling at its beauty. The liquid seems alive, swirling and shimmering with an otherworldly energy.

And then, without thinking, you hurl the vial at a nearby tree. You watch in awe as the glass shatters, the glowing substance splattering across the bark and dripping onto the forest floor.

“Shit—I don’t know what came over me—” you start, but Butcher is already laughing, a devilish grin spreading across his face.

“Fuckin’ diabolical,” he says, grabbing a vial and smashing it under his boot. You both gape at the way it explodes under his foot, staining his boot like a glow stick, before you burst into shared laughter. 

You both fall into a wild, unhinged rhythm, smashing vial after vial. The forest around you glows eerily, the remnants of V2 painting the trees and ground in streaks of neon green. Laughter bubbles out of you, uncontrollable and cathartic, as the absurdity of your destruction takes hold.

When only one vial remains, Butcher reaches for it, but you stop him with a hand on his arm. “Wait. We should keep one. For testing. Just in case.”

He looks at you, then smirks. “Knew I kept you around for a reason.”

“Oh, come on,” you tease. “You keep me around for more than that.”

His smirk fades, replaced by something darker, more intense.  The air shifts between you, the laughter forgotten as your proximity feels suddenly charged. Whatever force is behind the constant push and pull of your attraction to Butcher is now pushing in full force, the glowing green crime scene around you fading into nothing. It's just you and him and the screaming urge inside of you to untether. 

Butcher advances toward you, pulling your face into his hands, crashing his mouth into yours. This time you get the chance to react, the opportunity to reciprocate. And you do, wholeheartedly. You pull at the lapels of his jacket, fingers fumbling for purchase in his wild hair. His hands move over your body, down your back and across your ass, squeezing you closer to him.

When he finally pulls away, his eyes are wild. “Someone’s gonna notice the skid marks and the guardrail. We’re gonna have company soon if we don’t move.”

“Back to the motel?” you ask, bold and breathless.

His answer is immediate. “Yeah.”

Without another word, he grabs your hand, practically pulling you back up the ravine toward the van.

You had a taste of Butcher's penchant for speeding earlier, but something about the way he races down the road back to the motel now has butterflies erupting in your stomach. His right hand is placed firmly on your left thigh, your own hand keeping his there. You're ashamed to admit that his touch alone is driving you crazy. 

Thank god you never had time to return the key this morning, because you both race back to the room, his mouth in your ear, arms encircling your waist as you fumble to unlock the door. The second the door closes behind you, he has you pushed up against the door, his tongue parting your lips and hands digging into your waist. You wrap your arms around his neck as he lets a hand fall to your ass, squeezing tightly. He lifts you up, wrapping both of your legs around his middle. You moan at the way his hands explore you, the closeness of your bodies. 

“Do that again,” he instructs. 

“Make me,” you dare. 

He throws you down on the bed, both of you using the opportunity to work your shirts off. He spends an unabashed moment staring directly at your tits, chest heaving. Like you're a work of art he can't wait to defile. You unbutton your pants before Butcher pulls them off of you, leaving you bare before him, save for your underwear. He crawls up onto the bed, knees nudging your legs open, his imposing frame towering over you. 

“You have no idea how goddamn much I've thought about this,” he admits. Your eyes search his face, hands combing through his hair. He kisses you deeply, tongue exploring your mouth, before moving down to place licks along your collarbone. He moves down to your nipples, your stomach, stopping at the waistband of your underwear. He looks up in silent request. 

“Please,” you beg. “Don't stop.”

And, with your permission, he practically rips the soft cotton as he pulls them down, throwing your legs over his broad shoulders. You share a glance, both with bated breath, before he finally puts his mouth on you, eating you like a man starved. 

Your head tilts back involuntarily as he licks at you, alternating between languid, savoring strokes, his wide tongue exploring deep inside of you, and quick, tight little circles over your clit. You've never been the kind of woman to be particularly loud or vocal in bed, a complaint you'd heard from lovers in the past. But now the moans fall freely as you fall apart on Butcher's tongue. Your sounds only serve to egg him on, his fingers digging deeply into your plush inner thighs, his growls reverberating through your pussy, matching your low moans. You barrel embarrassingly quickly toward the edge. 

“‘m so close,” you whimper. 

He doesn't stop, every determined movement a silent encouragement for you to chase your high. 

Your hands reach down, tangling in his messy hair. He responds, deepening the push of his mouth against your core, rhythmically drawing his fingers back and forth against your inner thighs. Your fingers clench around the tendrils of his hair, pulling so hard you know it must hurt him. He doesn't seem to notice, his rhythm never stalling. Then, starbursts exploding behind your eyelids as you fall over the edge, legs clamping involuntarily around his head. 

Dizzying, pure, unadulterated bliss.

Head falling back against the pillow, you're sure you've never come this hard before. Your limbs are absolutely weightless, cheeks flushed. A euphoric smile on your lips stretches so wide you're certain you look deranged. 

But not to Butcher. 

“You're so bloody beautiful,” he says from between your legs, and you can do nothing but laugh deliriously in response. 

He gazes up at you, working his way back up between kisses to your stomach and swirling his tongue over your pert nipples. You grasp a hand around the back of his neck, pulling him up to kiss him on the mouth, your other hand reaching down to encircle his hard length. 

You're pleasantly surprised at how much of him there is, pumping his thick length several times before you position him at your entrance. 

You feel his body jolt involuntarily as his cock makes contact with the wetness he just created.

“You sure?” he asks, and you nod, words refusing to form on your lips. 

He shifts his hips forward and you gasp sharply as he breaches you. You reach your other hand down to caress his ass cheek, pulling him in deeper, desperate for more.

“Fuck yes,” you moan. “Yes, Billy, just like that.”

That's all he needs before he's driving himself deep, stopping only when he's fully seated inside of you. You gasp as he stretches you out, like he's splitting you right down the middle. He pulls your knee up, hooking it over his shoulder, allowing him to go deeper. You whine at the fullness, earning a growl from him. 

“You like this, baby?” he asks as he pulls back, looking down to where your bodies connect before plunging himself back into you. “Fuck, because I really like this.”

“R‒really like this,” you manage to sputter out. “P‒please, please, fuck me Billy.”

“I got you, love,” his voice is raw. He sets a punishing pace, his cock filling you over and over and over again, pushing you toward the brink of something you've never experienced before. 

Your hands wander over him, tracing every scar, fumbling through his hair, squeezing his ass as you pull him in even deeper. You want to memorize everything about this, the sweet aroma of his sweat, the weight of him atop you, the stream of consciousness filth that flows from his lips as he falls more and more pussy drunk. 

He reaches down, thumb on your clit, rubbing in time with his thrusts. His mouth explores your chest, dividing his attention between your nipples and sensitive, open neck. You bound toward your release, fingers scraping down his broad back. 

“Fuck, fuck, Billy, I'm gonna come,” you moan between huffs. He continues, pace unrelenting. 

Then, stars. 

Expanding blooms of light, full-body eruption. Sweet release, a dynamite stick in your core, exploding out your mouth in a silent scream. You heave around him, bucking your hips, impaling yourself deeper on his cock. He fucks you through it, half words falling from his lips into your mouth. 

Tha's right. 

Mm, baby. 

You go’ it. 

It's all too much, the soft moans escaping your mouth, the image of you in ecstasy before him, falling apart on his cock. He's too close behind you to stop now. 

“Fuck, you're gonna make me come. Where d’you want it?” he asks frantically. 

You can't help yourself. “Inside,” you beg. 

He really doesn't try to make it a habit of denying you, and he certainly won't start now. He groans, spilling himself inside of you. You moan at the heat that grows between your legs. 

He collapses atop you, the weight of him pushing you I to the cheap, springy mattress. You feel the wetness spill out onto the bed beneath you. 

“Holy shit,” you manage to get out between gasps for air. 

“Holy fuckin’ shit is right,” he agrees. 

Over the next eight or so hours, you and Butcher acquaint yourselves with each other, very, very, closely. On the bed, on the floor, against the dresser, in the shower, on the bed, again. You speak only a few times in rushed half sentences, too preoccupied with finding out just how many orgasms you can achieve in one go to think about much else. All of the tension that has stewed since the day Butcher first laid eyes on your dazed face has been unleashed in Room 206 at the Piney Point Motel. You stop only long enough for Butcher to drive twenty minutes down the highway to retrieve a bag of greasy fast food, hastily devoured fuel to allow you both to continue at least a few more times. 

By the time you both succumb to your utter exhaustion, you're sweat-sticky and bone-tired, with a soreness between your legs you know is going to have you walking funny tomorrow. You don't notice it though, because Butcher has you pulled in his arms, lips on your ear, your heart firmly in the palm of his hand. 

@bluemerakis @mystic-writings @imherefordeanandbones

[clockwork-ashes]

A Second Shadow

Summary: Lucien forces Eris to spend an entire day with him (one-shot). Read also on Ao3!

Note: Thank you to the lovely anon who requested this one-shot!!! It’s definitely one of the least angsty ones I’ve written :)) Also huge thank you to @avabrynne for bringing the term “velcro child” to my attention, i had never heard it before and i LOVE it <3

Eris closed his eyes, rubbing at them roughly with the heels of his palms. He made a low sound, breathless and tired, kicking off his boots so he could tumble onto his bed. The covers were soft, the mattress sinking under his weight. 

The meeting with the High Lord’s advisers had drained him. His parents’ absence to attend a ball in Montesere had left him with countless responsibilities and obligations. Adding onto his already long list of duties, his day had seemed eternal. 

To make matters worse, Lucien had ultimately decided that he would spend the whole day following after Eris. 

A second shadow. 

Eris had always considered Lucien to be a rather emotionally demanding child, but the Lady of Autumn had been more than happy to cater to his every wish. Some might have thought that the boy was spoiled, but his dimpled grin was hard for even Beron to ignore. 

At breakfast, Lucien had insisted that Eris sit next to him. While that spot was usually reserved for their mother, it was something that pleased the child and was easy to do. 

When Lucien had finished his lessons, he had tapped the door to Eris’s study until he had been let inside. He had climbed onto the armchair and looked at the various reports Eris had flipped though, obviously unable to understand staying there for hours. 

Eris had managed to escape for a moment to grab a snack from the kitchen, but Lucien had been all too eager to share. He’d placed a demanding little hand out, asking without using words for an apple slice with sprinkles of cinnamon. 

Even at the meeting, Lucien had refused to let go of Eris, clinging to his leg until he simply abandoned all efforts. The most feared prince in the Autumn Court had resorted to offering a tax proposal with a giggling child attached to him. 

“Fuck,” he mumbled, the word muffled by the pillows, remembering the horrified looks the aristocrats had cast him. He could hardly remember the last time he’d gotten a good night’s sleep, exhaustion creeping over his bones. It had him feeling ancient and heavy, so he vowed to deal with the problems that might arise from his moment of weakness when he could keep his eyes open. 

Eris was still fully dressed, but he couldn’t be bothered to care. The laces at his throat were tight and his collar cut into the skin of his neck uncomfortably. He stayed laying there, sprawled inelegantly, despite knowing he would most likely regret wrinkling the expensive fabric of his jacket in the morning. 

Embers crackled in the fireplace, the rhythm almost like a lullaby. Eris found it comforting, how the Forest House was never silent. He could hardly bear it when everything was quiet, much preferring when soft sounds lingered. 

He had left one of his windows open, and a cool breeze danced into his chambers. He felt its familiar chill, the gentlest of kisses. 

Sleep came quickly, and in the space of a few breaths, Eris knew he was in between worlds. Reality and dreams twisted together, just until the darkness could claim him completely. 

Hinges creaking and graceless footsteps barely registered, even as Eris belatedly realised he’d forgotten to lock his doors. 

“Eris?” His name was whispered, the question soft. There was a small pause as his younger brother waited. 

In response, the High Lord’s heir pulled a pillow over his face. Small hands grabbed onto his arm, fingers tight, not willing to let go. 

“Eris,” Lucien said once again. “I think there’s a monster under my bed.” 

With an annoyed huff, Eris replied. “There isn’t.” 

“There is,” Lucien clipped, slight frustration leaking into his tone. “Can you come?” 

“I cannot,” Eris mumbled, hugging the pillow and tucking it under his chin. He opened his eyes only to raise a brow at his brother. Lucien was dressed in cotton sleeping clothes, his hair a tangled mess of auburn curls. His two front teeth were missing, and there was something about it that Eris found endlessly amusing. “Trust me, nothing can get in and out of this house without father knowing.”  

“I think it’s the naga,” Lucien continued, nodding once as if to confirm his own suspicions. He looked absolutely certain. 

Eris couldn’t help but allow his lips to quirk up at the corners. “Definitely not, they like to torment villages in Spring.” He wondered who might have told him about the dreadful creatures. 

Lucien was still holding onto his arm, fingers gripping onto his sleeve. He tugged once. “Please, Eris. I won’t be able to sleep if you don’t check.” 

With a sigh, Eris shifted on his bed. There was something about the trusting look on Lucien’s face that made his chest ache. “How about you stay here for now, and I’ll look when the sun is up.” 

Lucien did not need to be told twice. He grinned openly, dimples appearing and a flash of gold sparking to life in his russet eyes. He crawled under the covers hastily, tucking himself close to his eldest brother’s side. “Thanks, ‘Ris,” he murmured, yawning as he pressed his face against the pillows. 

When Eris was completely certain that Lucien had fallen asleep, soft snores falling from the boy’s parted lips, he placed a gentle kiss on the crown of his little brother’s head. 

“Good night, Lucien.” He said into the silence, not really minding that they had spent the whole day together. Flames crackled in the hearth, and Eris drifted off to a dreamless sleep moments after he shut his tired eyes.  

[kbagraces]

No Time to Die LN4

Lando Norris Mafia/Gang AU

As much as we try to suppress the stigma, strong women will continue to be perceived as intimidating until you learn to love us.

PART 4 Reflections

My vision and hearing was in and out the whole journey to Lando's hide out flat in London. My body was slumped across the back seats of his car, my head resting in Mandi's lap, her delicately moving hair out of the concerning gash on my head and then holding her jacket back on the wound. I felt like i was under water, i could hear talking from the front of the car but not words. Mandi didnt utter a sentence.

I felt the car stop and i was lifted out of the car. The cold midnight air stung, i could finally make out what they were saying, Mandi demanding, "Careful. Careful. Would you be careful!"

That means that Lando was carrying me, another thing he can hold over my head. Brilliant.

"I am being fucking careful." His voice rattled against my body. I wanted to snap, no one talks to my best friend like that. But once again it came out as a groan and a huff.

I was lowered down, i'm unsure whether its a bed or a sofa, but its soft as hell either way. My bpdy is drifting off again, im either passing out or falling asleep but this time i dont care to fight it.

I wake up alone, the sun peaking through the blind. A duvet drapped over the bottom half of my body. I'm in the most baggy joggers and an even baggier t shirt. I'm sure these aren't clothes myself or Mandi packed.

My head stinging, i raise my hand to touch my injury, jagged stitches across where the gaping wound once was. The amateur skills screamed that it was the work of Mandi, having stitched up a few of my wounds in her time, but at the end of the day shes not a professional 

I lift myself out of the bed, another vampire like room in front of me dark walls dark furniture is this man allergic to colour?

Walking, or more like waddling, out of the room i attempt to gain some balance. I walk down the hall to the kitchen gasping for water.

I turn around glass in hand to spot Lando's body stretched out over to sofa, legs hanging off the end. He's on his phone scrawling through whatever nonsense is on there.

"Morning." I announce, theres no way he didnt hear me come in.

"Morning, how's my favourite liability!" He attempts to joke, looking up from his phone. His eyes taking in my obvious dishevelled appearance and body clad in what i've deduced to be his clothes.

"I'm going to pray that it wasnt you that dressed me in your clothes?"

He grins, a huff coming from his nose as he sits up , eaning foreward, elbows on knees. "I should be so lucky."

"Excuse me?"

He ignores my question, "Mandi both bathed and dressed you, i just left the clothes on my bed. Your shit was in my car and i couldnt be bothered to get them."

I hummed in response, sitting down at the island. My fingers rotating over the top of the glass, feeling slightly awkward due to his eyes not once leaving me.

"Where is Mandi?"

"Her and Nat went to service the car, get her filled up, tires changed... cleaned."

Odd how it wasn't him and Nat, odd that Mandi also thought it was a good idea to leave me here, shes up to something.

"How long will they be? I want my clothes."

"They'll be back soon."

"You've got a real starring problem you know that." I feel uncomfortable being so judged? Admired? I cant tell which.

"So ive been told."

"Good to know you make all women uncomfortable and its not solely reserved for me."

He gets up from his seat, now leaning opposite me across the island in the kitchen. His irritating, signature smirk painted on his mouth.

"I make you uncomfortable?" His mouth now feigns a mocking pout, "Do i make you nervous too?"

I scoff, unfolding my arms, imitating his stance and leaning across the table, a few inches between our faces and hands nearly touching, "no one makes me nervous."

There was a thick tension in the air, neither of us willing to move. There was a twinge in his eyes, ones that usually are blank with zero emotion are now twinkling with what i assume is resentment mixed with a little bit of lust.

"Morning!!" Natalie beams in her usually sunny voice. Honestly, how someone so doom and gloom as Lando made such good friends with such a ray of sunshine ill never know.

Lando's body stands tall and rigid once hes aware of their presence. Neither of us sure how long they'd been there. His eyes blank once again, although certainly embarrassed that he was caught off guard.

I catch a glance between him and Natalie before he shakes his head.

"Nice outfit." Mandi cackles, mockery laced in her tone.

Lando, serious as ever claps his hands together, "now we have the car can we all get ready and get this shit show on the road. You have 10 minutes meet back here and we'll get a plan together."

Natalie and Mandi leave to what i assume are their individual rooms. I head over to the front door retrivbeing my bag which mandi brought in.

"I won" i said as i brushed past Lando.

I'll have no man try and intimidate me or even worse believe they have a hold over me!

--

We all enter the kitchen once more. Taking a seat around this cursed table.

"So we have ordered a plane from Dover straight to Barcelona, there one of my drivers will take us to a safe house to sort who's going where and doing what." His eyes scan us, ensuring that were listening. Lingering on me before continuing.

"Nat, you're driving to Dover. I am going to tap into Ferrari and Keegans data to see what their plans are they seem like they are biggest threats as of right now. Mandi, you can sit there and look pretty and y/n you can attempt to do that too." He laughs at his own joke, a little too hard. Asshole.

We all head to the front door, Mandi grabs my arm pulling me back to walk at her pace.

"You know you can cut the sexual tension with a knife between you two" Her eyebrows quivering up and down suggestively.

"Are you kidding?"

"Not at all, youve got the big bad Lando Norris wrapped around your little finger. Turn on the y/n charm, I beg of you! Make this trip interesting."

"As if running away from your brother who took over of you old gang isnt interesting." She can't be serious right now. Surely?

We hang back at the front door, out of earshot as they load upo the car.

"Come on he fancies you, you fancies him, why don-"

I raise my hand to her face in rejcetion, covering up her mouth.

"Firstly, shut the fuck up. Secondly i do not fancy him."

"You so do"

"Do fucking not."

She rolls her eyes "okay okay you don't."

We make our way to the car, Nat revving it in impatience. As Mandi opens her door, she whispers, but loud enough for me to hear,

"You so do."

[shy-urban-hobbit]

Five times the Witchers learnt just how cat-like Aiden actually is

Biscuit making - Lambert

Lambert stared down at his friend, eyebrows raised in silent question as Aiden dozed lightly, plastered to Lambert so they were snuggled chest to chest in the small inn bed. He'd gotten used to Aiden purring in his sleep when the Cat witcher felt safe (and Lambert tried not to linger too long on how that made him feel) long ago but this…this was new.

The hands resting on Lambert's chest were rhythmically gripping and releasing the material of his shirt in tandem, the pinprick scratch of long, tougher than average fingernails just enough to feel through the fabric. It wasn't uncomfortable as such, in fact once he got used to it, when paired with the soft, barely audible purr it was actually quite relaxing.

Soon enough, Lambert found himself being pulled into sleep, either not caring or not realising that he himself had started letting out a steady stream of content rumbling of his own in response.

"Question for you, Cat."

Aiden didn't pause in lacing up his boots, "Ask away, Wolf."

"You know you were-" he clenched his fingers in imitation of the gesture, "I don't know - kneading - me last night?"

At that, Aiden did pause and Lambert had the feeling if he could blush he'd be bright red.

"I..shit. Sorry, I didn't even realise. I usually only do that around my siblings. I'll try to control it better."

"Didn't say it was a bad thing. " Lambert bumped his shoulder lightly against Aiden's, "I was just curious is all. I don't give a shit what you do, short of stabbing me."

Lambert tried to ignore the warmth blooming in his chest as Aiden let out a tiny purr.

Jumpscare - Eskel

Eskel hummed to himself as he bought in the last of the vegetables from the greenhouses for pickling. Glad to see that Aiden was already in the kitchen setting everything up and was currently busy with a keg of brine. Things had been a bit tense to start with when his little brother had rolled up with a Cat of all people but Aiden had made it very hard to not like him. If nothing else, he was always more than willing to lend a hand with chores - always a bonus when your home was in a near constant state of disrepair.

"Alright." Eskel said, dumping one of the sacks out onto the stone countertop, "That's the last of this year's crop. If we work quickly we should be done by-"

He was interrupted by a yowl next to him and if Aiden was an actual cat, Eskel would be inclined to think somebody had just stepped on his tail. Whirling around he saw no sign of the other Witcher. Until he looked up just in time to see Aiden hauling himself up to fully perch on one of the rafters, glaring at Eskel's haul.

"Eh...Aiden?"

"Get those things away from me." The Cat hissed pointing accusingly.

Now Eskel was even more confused, all that was there was a perfectly innocent pile of….

"You mean these?" He held up one of the cucumbers, causing Aiden to growl low in his throat in response. Eskel hastily dropped it again, "Ok, ok. I'll put these away for now and we can work on the beetroot instead. Ok?"

Aiden nodded but still refused to leave his perch until the offending items had been shoved back into the sack and into a cupboard.

Soundlessly, he grabbed a knife and began to peel and chop the beetroot.

"Cat thing?"

"Cat thing."

Zoomies - Geralt

Geralt couldn't sleep. Again. He was nowhere near desperate enough to go down the Djinn route again but by the Gods it was starting to get annoying. He just wanted one night where his mind wouldn't keep throwing up scenarios where he failed his responsibilities to Ciri, Yen, Jaskier, his brothers…he was just one man for fucks sake.

He decided to go check on the animals, Eskel had mentioned that the fence on one of the goat pens could do with repairs but it was already getting dark by the time he'd noticed. It was on the list for the following morning but his brother would be heartbroken if any of them had gotten loose and hurt in the meantime.

Turns out Geralt wasn't the only one feeling restless. As he entered the courtyard he caught sight of a figure seemingly in the middle of running laps along the wall. Too lithe to be Eskel or Lambert, too tall to be Ciri, it had to be Aiden. Geralt stopped for a second, unsure why until he realised. Aiden was moving fast.. too fast to be running it safely in the dark and frost. Even for a Witcher, that could be a broken leg or concussion at least if he fell.

As if the Gods had been reading his thoughts, Aiden lost his footing and soundlessly tumbled down onto the cobbles of the courtyard, landing in a heap. Only to bounce back up immediately as if nothing had happened and continue running laps at ground level instead.

Geralt felt his brow furrow as he continued watching, what the fuck?

"Couldn't sleep either?"

Aiden had come to a stop in front of him, hair plastered to his forehead with sweat and eyes darting around ceaselessly as he almost seemed to be vibrating in his own skin and using all of his self control to stay still and talk.

Geralt hummed in response before gesturing to the wall "You do that often?"

Aiden looked slightly sheepish as if he expected to be reprimanded, "Only a couple of times since I've been here. The mutagens. Sometimes I feel like I'm going to combust there and then if I don't move , for some reason it's worse at night. I think there was something meant to make us nocturnal, at least partially anyway. If I were on the path I'd go hunting or just go run pell mell in the woods for a bit. Doing that on an unfamiliar mountain didn't seem like the smartest thing though. I'm reckless, not suicidal."

Geralt huffed a laugh, "Well, don't let me stop you. Just don't make us find you lying out here with your skull cracked open in the morning."

Aiden gave a mock salute before going to mount the wall again, "Remind me to tell you about Cat Trials. Trust me, a fall from this is nothing. You could always run a couple of laps with me if you want? It's just, you look as if you could use something to tire you out too."

Geralt shrugged. At this point, why the fuck not?

Chirp - Jaskier

"Melitele's tits, it's cold. I mean, it. Is. COLD." Jaskier proclaimed as the two of them closed the door on the snow storm they'd just left, moving to hang his cloak and hood by the fire in the great hall, "I swear, if you and Lambert ever decide you're heading South for the winter I'm coming with you. Geralt can freeze his tits off up here alone, he'll survive. Unlike me. "

Aiden said nothing, although the bard had been around enough Witchers by now to know his companion was probably silently laughing at him as he removed his own cloak. Jaskier tsk'd at the snow clinging to Aiden's hair and moved to brush it out without thinking. The Cat let out a small but clearly audible "mrrrp" and momentarily pushed into the hand before he caught himself. He turned to face Jaskier, who was grinning at him like both Yule and his birthday had come early.

"Oh, well. That is just precious! " He exclaimed, clapping his hands together excitedly like a small child who's just been shown a magic trick, "Oh my dear, if all Cat Witchers make such adorable noises I may have a new favourite school. Do you all do that or is it just some of you? Purring's a given, every Witcher I've met purrs to some degree or other."

Aiden caught Coen's eye, the other Witcher flashing him a smirk which said 'You're on your own'

"That's it, I've decided! I'm making it my mission this winter to find out just how cat-like you are!"

"Do that and I'll hide your lute up in the rafters." Aiden said with no real heat, the Bard trailing after him asking questions about tables and glassware, distracted (for now) from the coldness of the Keep.

If I fits… - Vesemir

Vesemir basked in the quiet. There were perks to being one of the first ones to wake in the mornings. As much as he loved having his boys back safe and sound for the winter, after months alone the constant noise could become a little overwhelming at times, making these moments of quiet solitude all the more precious.

He made his way to the laundry room with an armful of bedding he'd found which probably hadn't been washed since the previous winter if the stale smell was anything to go by. No matter.

He quirked an eyebrow at the closed laundry hamper. He was certain he'd opened the lid earlier unless old age and senility were finally starting to get to him. Dumping the dirty sheets on the ground to free his hands he lifted the lid again.

And was greeted by Aiden blinking sleepily up at him, disturbed by the sudden brightness. Vesemir briefly took a moment to try and figure out what manner of contortion he'd used to cram himself into a space the boys had struggled to fit in even as adolescents before catching Aiden's eye. The two held eye contact as Aiden tilted his head in silent question, still half asleep. Vesemir wordlessly lowered the lid again in response before walking away shaking his head. It was too early for his boy's antics.

[fuwushiguro]

Let’s Go Little Kitty Cat

Tomura Shigaraki x Touya Todoroki x Twice x f!reader

Genre: Smut Notes: this was meant to be exclusive to patreon but they made me delete it lmao enjoy!! Warnings: 18+, dubcon, hybrid!au, kitty girl!reader, heat, gang bang, step-cest, name-calling, dacryphillia, blowjobs, clit rubbing, pet names, vaginal sex, tit-sucking, spitting, double penetration (one hole), throat-fucking, hair pulling, noncon filming, creampie & oral creampie ♡ Words: 2.8k

The tension between your thighs is unbearable. It’s close to agonising. A burning desire that can only be alleviated by someone willing. Your stepbrother is tired of you. You know he is; and yet you can’t seem to be able to help yourself. He has friends over. You can hear them all talking. Playing videos games and screaming at the TV.

“Tomu…” you flutter your eyelashes. Though he doesn’t hear you. He doesn’t even see you since you’re shyly hiding behind the door to his bedroom.

All you can hear is laughter and teasing. Touya making fun of Jin’s lack of gaming skills and Tomura laughing at his expense. If only you weren’t so bashful.

The lustrous want is growing stronger.

And soon, you don’t feel so shy.

You don’t even knock. Instead, you barge in and stand directly beside the TV which you can now see is displaying Super Smash Bros. They all look at you, momentarily, before focusing back on the TV. Standing next to it was a good call. You’re sure if you’d stood in front of it that your brother might have cause to kill you.

“What?” he asks, rudely, mashing buttons on his controller. You do nothing but twiddle your thumbs and a slew of ‘ums’ mumble out from between your lips. “What is it, brat?” he sighs. And you gulp, swallowing thickly and screwing your eyes closed. You turn your back to him; falling to your knees. You place your hands on the ground and raise your behind up at him. Your slinky black tail standing upright and revealing your pretty lace panties underneath your skirt.

“Tomur—”

“For fuck sake.” he mutters, kicking you lightly with his sneaker clad foot so that your body falls onto the floor. You sniffle, wiping your nose and fighting to hold back tears from the embarrassment of it all. It doesn’t work. “I’m busy.” he tells you, bluntly, focusing his attention back to the TV.

“S’wrong with her?” Touya wonders. He watches as you get back on all fours, clearly not humiliated enough as you try to entice your brother to take care of you as he always does.

“Slut’s in heat.” he responds. He exhales, defeated, pausing the TV to show his friends what a pathetic whore you are. He grips your tail with his fist, keeping it in place. His free hand is used to prod your panties and tease your folds.

All three men revel in how soaked you are. Your panties positively drenched.

“Tomura… please.” you sob.

“No.” he speaks. “I already fucked you this morning and in the middle of the night. I’m bored of you. Go away.”

“But—”

“I’ll fuck you, sweetheart.” Jin tells you, sticking his tongue through his teeth as his brows furrow and focus on his game. You can’t tell whether he’s joking or not. From Tomura’s lack of response, you think he’s just teasing.

You opt to ignore him. Turning to Tomura with watery eyes, though he pays you no mind. It’s getting worse. And you are growing even more desperate. You shuffle closer to him on your knees, resting your hands on his thighs. He looks down at you, his vision alternating quickly between his game and you.

“Behave.” he warns you.

But you don’t.

You carry on smoothing your hands up his thighs.

And suddenly, he’s winning the game. Touya and Jin can’t tear their gaze away from you. From what you’re doing to your brother. You unbutton his jeans and slide down the zip. He doesn’t stop you, either, which makes you think he wants you just as much as you want him.

He helps you pull down his jeans and underwear slightly, just enough for his cock to be released. He’s only semi hard, but you know a few kitten licks to his slit and a couple of pumps of your wrist will have him standing to attention.

You lap at his cockhead. His tip leaking and you consuming every little pearl of cum on your sensitive tastebuds. He is still focused on the game, starting a new round as his friends are enamoured by the sight of you licking his cock. They manage to concentrate on the TV for all of five seconds when you begin to take your brother down your throat.

“Unmf.” Tomura winces a little, your soft humming and accommodating throat getting the better of him. “You’re such a brat.” he comments. You giggle, but you don’t abandon your task. He doesn’t want you to stop; but in the same breath he doesn’t want to seem weak in front of his friends. He pushes your head off of his length and pulls you onto the bed beside him.

“Ouch…” you complain, massaging your wrist where he pulled you. “Why did you—”

Before you can finish, he’s holding your waist and pulling you onto his lap, moving your panties to the side and lining his cock up with your hole. You’re so flustered. Your hairline is damp, and your eyes might as well be dotted with hearts. Your tongue is lolling out of your mouth as he guides you down onto his length.

“T-Thank you.” you gasp as you try to ride him. But your attempt is thwarted, his hands grip your waist like a vice to keep you still.

“Sit still. Don’t move.” he commands. “Think you can just do what you want? Hm? Think you’re gonna come in here and flash your cunt and you’ll get what you want?”

“I—”

“The word you’re looking for is no.”

You whimper, slightly, but do your best to sit still. But it’s too fucking hard. He’s inside of you, now, he may as well just fuck you. He’s torturing you for no reason. Your heart rate is through the roof, and you start to grind against him.

His arm hooks around your body until his hand encases your neck.

“No.”

You sigh, allowing the tears resting in your lash line to spill down your cheeks. Jin reaches over to you, thick fingers scratching behind your ears and making them twitch excitedly. You look at him, and smile.

And Jin Bubaigawara is a weak man. He never has been able to resist a pretty face. He puts his Switch controller to one side and stands to his feet.

“Why are we playing a fucking game when we can be fucking your little sister?” Jin wonders. He almost sounds agitated that he even needs to ask. Touya sighs, laughing. Relieved that he got the necessary conversation in motion.

“C’mere, babe.” Touya demands, his finger performing a come hither motion while he pats his lap. And you want to. God you fucking want to. But you aren’t so sure. And you know Tomura won’t like it. He shuffles on the bed closer to Tomura, reaching over to the hot spot at the apex of your thighs and moving your panties further into the crease of your thigh. He prods your clit a few times with his finger before he swipes over it, softly. Your face contorts, and once again, you can’t help but begin to grind against Tomura. “Mmm, she likes it.” he grins.

“Get off.” Tomura cautions his friend, once again stopping you from moving. There’s no real malice or aggression to his order. Just another show of dominance.

“Shut up.” Touya responds. “How can you deny such a pretty girl the opportunity to cum? She just wants some cock, don’tcha, doll?” he continues. You nod, hurriedly, hoping the conversation will be enough to bring Tomura around.

“Fine. Take her.” Tomura nods, pushing you over to Touya.

Touya lets you straddle him. He holds the crown of your head so that he can keep you in place while he makes out with you. It’s slow, nasty and with so much tongue. He giggles at the way you moan for him. And he thinks it’s so adorable how you can’t help but rut your pussy against his rough jeans, making such a sticky mess of the denim material.

He holds an arm around your waist and flips you onto your back; still kissing you all the while. Touya is completely manhandling you. Spreading your legs open wide and flipping your skirt upwards. He takes your panties in two fists and rips them apart with a sharp tearing sound. And even that makes you moan.

“What a little whore you are,” he chuckles darkly, “I love this wet little cunt, don’t need to waste time stretching you out with my fingers first.”

You look at him with rose tinted glasses. Despite his crude words and abusive language; you can’t help but lust after him. He’s giving you what you want, after all. You observe him as he unbuckles his belt as fast as he can. His cock jumps out as soon as he pulls down his jeans and underwear just below his ass. He shoves himself into your warm walls all of the way to the hilt, almost cumming at the sound of you flinching from the impact.

“So gorgeous when you cry.” he laughs, starting to hump his length inside of your welcoming walls.

Tomura notices your distress. And as mean as he can be, he’s also incredibly sweet to you at times. And he’s very protective. He kneels close to your head, bending down to kiss you kindly. His tongue massaging against yours instantly puts you at ease.

Jin begins to feel left out. He shuffles towards you, too. He rips apart your crop top to reveal your bare breasts. Completely exposed to all three men in the room. He jiggles one in his hand for a moment. And then he lies down on his stomach. He latches his lips around your raised nipple. Suckling sweetly and carefully. Soft and gentle bites against it rush straight to your cunt. Your hips bucking while Touya continues to thrust inside of you.

Touya keeps your legs apart. They’re as wide as they can be. He presses one against the mattress and another up to your chest, using both to his advantage to fuck you harder.

Jin’s free hand slithers down your stomach until two thick fingers are toying with your clit. The sensation forces you to pull away from Tomura, not being able to focus enough on any one thing with your senses so overwhelmed.

“O-Oh fuck!” you yell. Tomura’s hand takes a firm grip of your jaw.

“Open up, slut.” he orders. You open your mouth wide. You flinch when he spits directly into your mouth. “You are a disgusting little whore with a filthy mouth.” he tells you. Your lip begins to wobble, upset by his words. But still, you find yourself desperate for his kiss.

“Naughty little whores don’t get kisses.” Touya grunts, only just managing to speak through his impending high.

“No, they don’t.” Tomura agrees. He guides his cock to your lips, smearing them in his pre cum. “I don’t want my cock sucked, baby. I want to fuck your throat.” he warns you. He presses his hand into the side of your face; keeping it trapped against the mattress.

“Mmpf!!” you gasp as he forces himself into your mouth. You can barely breathe, doing your best to remember to breathe through your nose as you feel him brutalising your throat. You begin to cry, unable to stop yourself or keep the tears from flowing.

“Why are you crying? You were the one begging for cock. Begging for cum. Look where it got you, you’ve tripled your profit.” Tomura cackles. He spits down harshly onto your cheek to further make his point.

“Ohhh, she’s so tight. So fucking tight. Are you gonna cum? Yeah… pretty girl’s gonna cum.” Touya muses, knowing if you clench any harder he won’t be far after you. “Gonna cum in this cunt, babe. Jus’ like you want.” he informs you.

You’re unravelling around him the harder he pounds, and you feel your body turn cold in contrast to the warm gooey substance flooding your insides. Jin releases your nipple as he observes the way your body spasms from your orgasm. Tomura pulls out before your vibrating throat full of wanton moans makes him cum.

Touya collapses on the bed beside you, the pair of you panting as you recover from your orgasms. Touya is allowed to rest.

You aren’t.

Jin drags you towards him, as he stands on his knees. He kisses you slowly, wanting to offer you some form of reprieve. He rolls your left nipple between his fingers as he tongues the inside of your mouth. It all feels so romantic despite what is actually happening. He leads his cock into you, holding your body close to his as you begin to ride him. He keeps a firm grip as he lets his body fall backwards. His shoulder blades against the mattress and allowing you to be on top of him. You moan, softly, into his mouth as you use him to fuck yourself.

“Take a deep breath.” he whispers. You pull away. Your confusion is evident even on your sleepy face. He kisses you and you kiss him back; not knowing it’s a distraction.

Tomura forces himself inside of your pussy and you can’t help but scream. Jin is huge. It was already a heavy feat in itself. But taking your brother’s thick cock in your cunt as well is a task too much.

“Ah! Tomura��!” you gasp.

“Shut up.” he spits, cruelly. “You wanted this. You’re getting what you asked for.”

“Hurts! Tomu… s-stop, s’really hurting m-me!” you explain.

“Touya, shut her up.”

You look over to Touya, he’s stroking his cock casually on the bed as he watches you get fucked by these two monstrous cocks. But at the request of his friend, he stands to his feet, walking around the bed until he’s standing directly in front of you. Lording above you.

It’s menacing.

“No teeth, doll, or I’ll really give you something to cry about.” he instructs you with an ominous warning.

You brace yourself, knowing what’s coming. He slots himself inside of your mouth and begins to hump inside of it. His refractory period is more than impressive. It’s fucking inhuman. He grasps a fistful of your hair, forcing you onto him so that he can fuck himself with your throat.

All the while, Jin and Tomura’s thrusts are matching. They’re tearing you in two and abusing your sweet spot all in one tantalising bout. You are all over the place. Too many sensations overcoming you at once. Jin returns to sweetly suckling on your nipples, expertly alternating between the two and still having enough focus to fuck you so perfectly.

“F-Fuck, take it you little bitch.” Tomura commands, his load spurting inside of your hole and accompanying Touya’s. Jin follows shortly after, his moans stimulating your tits even further as he refuses to release them from between his lips.

You tap frantically on Touya’s thighs, desperate for air. He grants your wish. For only a second. And then, he gives one last devastating thrust into your mouth, cumming inside. He continues to hold your mouth hostage with his length, forcing you to look him in the eye as he speaks.

“Do not swallow. Leave your fucking mouth open when I pull out.” he instructs.

All three men slowly retract their cocks from your body. Touya’s fingers are still interweaved in your hair. You can’t stop panting. You’re so sticky and overwhelmed. Your chin and lips are dripping with sperm, and you have an awful feeling that there’s more in store for you.

Alas, you’re wrong.

Touya pulls your hair back so that your head falls into Tomura’s pillows. You close your legs, trying your best to keep the obscene amount of cum inside. Tomura shakes his head, that isn’t allowed. Jin carefully opens them up for you, light pats against the inside of your knees are enough to do the trick.

“Look what a mess we made of her.” Jin grins, smoothing your hair out of your face.

“Your little sister is a dirty cum slut, isn’t that right baby?” Touya laughs, pulling out his phone as he films his combined handiwork with his friends. He takes a few pictures alongside it, too. “She’s leaking from every slutty hole.”

“Not every hole. Nobody went in her asshole, but there’s always next time.” Tomura speaks. “You hear that? Next time you stick your ass in my face I’m gonna fuck it.”

© 2023 fuwushiguro    

[readychilledwine]

Eris Week Day Four Hounds | Autumn Equinox

Unconditional

Prompt - Do Eris hounds like someone else more than him? How does Eris feel about this? Has Eris ever given one of his hounds as a gift to someone within the court?

Warnings - swearing and unedited

A/N - happy day four of @erisweek2023 my loves. It is a double post day! I personally believe Lucien has a deeper connection to nature and animals, so when I saw this idea, it immediately put this in my head.

🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁

Lucien dropped his bags and weapons, holding his arms out as three smoke hounds ran to him. Their whip-like tails were moving with blinding speed as the fastest of the three reached him and leaped into his arms, knocking him over.

Rhysand laughed nervously and backed away slowly. Lucien was chuckling as the three hounds licked him and laid on him, waiting for their master. They were whining if Lucien stopped scratching them, or stopped kissing them, or stopped talking to them in the soft baby voice he was using.

A deep chuckle came from the tree next to Rhysand. Eris was leaned against it, his arms crossed along his chest. "Rhysand."

"Eris," the High Lord said calmly. "How are you?"

"Annoyed my hounds ARE NOT DOING THEIR JOB." The three hounds snapped their heads towards Eris and Lucien's auburn brows went up. "Stop it. You all are hunters, not pets." The hounds ignored him, going back to kissing and receiving love from their uncle. "No no it's fine," Eris muttered. "I just feed you. Bathe you. Groom you. Ignore me though. It's fine." Eris straightened his jacket before inclining his head to Rhysand. "Welcome to my cabin. Please, come inside. How are you? Did you two winnow or fly?"

Rhysand followed him. "Things are well, we winnowed." He was blind sided as another smoke hound rushed to him, weaving herself around his legs before sitting prettily in front of him with her nose raised, waiting for a pat. "Well, hello, little darling." Eris could sense Rhysand's nerves.

His hounds were deadly. There was no other way to put it. To the outside world, they appeared to be ruthless hunters and trackers, willing to tear anyone and anything apart. In the safety of his cabin, though, they were his children. They took turns laying in bed with Eris. They were pampered and spoiled little things with an endless supply of love, toys, and treats.

"Luna, go lay back down. Leave him alone," a soft wine was the only response to Eris as the beautiful girl nudged Rhysand's hand. "Mother fuck me. Do you all not want to listen to me today?" Loud whines were his answer, causing the heir to roll his eyes. Rhysand watched as Eris opened the doorway to the cabin, and the remaining hounds ran to Lucien, reknocking the heir to the Day Court down with loud yelps and laughter following.

Another soft nudge came at his hand, and Rhysand finally caved, staring into the smoke hounds soft grey eyes as he gently scratched behind her ears. Her eyes shut in bliss as she leaned further into Rhysand's touch. He found himself kneeling down, getting closer to her, and raising his other hand to scratch the other ear as well.

"They are quite soft and lovely." Rhysand admitted, his heart tightening as Luna whimpered softly in joy, "This one especially."

"That one is my baby. She sleeps with me every night. She is a spoiled girl. Rarely leaves the cabin unless it's with me, which is fine she breeds wonderful pups. All of her litters are filled with hunters and protectors."

Rhysand smiled at Eris. "They are good companions?" Eris nodded. "Nyx would like them. He has been very forward about us getting him a pet soon. Azriel's shadows are no longer cutting it."

Eris nodded again, a small smile on his face as a puppy appeared behind him and looked between him and Rhysand before laying at his feet. Luna was instantly at the little hounds side, licking him gently before laying with him. "Good morning, little one," Eris bent down to the pup, patting his head lightly and putting a treat from his pocket. "I will keep that in mind for a solstice present. I may have a runt who would love a new home and his own little one to protect. He just needs a little more training."

Rhys was stunned, looking between Eris and the pup, "I could not accept that, Eris. It's too generous."

Lucien had finally entered the cabin, all the hounds in tow. "You really should, Rhys. There would be no better pet nor protector for Nyx. I have a good feeling about that little guy." The pup seemed to know they were discussing him, raising himself up, sitting down politely, and lifting his little head in pride.

Rhysand's felt his heart swelling again at the gentleness Eris was cooing the little hound with. It was the same gentleness he cooed Nyx with, the same gentleness he treated Cassian and Nesta's daughter with, and the same gentleness Rhysand had begun to see in Eris more and more as his walls went down. Eris scratched below the pup's chin, "Me too." He paused, looking at Rhys. "I think maybe we allow them to meet, and then we can decide?"

Rhysand nodded, holding his hand out to the pup and watching as he laid his snoot into his palm. "I can agree to that."

[dewedup]

28 with Phantom & Dew

I'm a mess already but I wouldn't mind it getting worse

here's a little something something (only a few months late and not the longest but still a feel trip)

Phantom could tell Dew was having a rough day from the moment he woke up; he just couldn’t seem to figure out when the problem started.

When he’d shuffled over to cuddle in the early light of day, Dew had rolled away.

If there’s one thing Phantom respects, it’s boundaries. So instead, he just placed a hand on Dew’s hip under the covers and kept his distance. But it seemed like even this tiny show of affection was getting under the fire ghoul’s skin. Dew huffed a frustrated sigh and got up to shower, he didn’t even bother to throw a cheeky wink at Phantom, finger crooked in a ‘come hither’ motion like usual. 

Phantom didn’t let it get to him; he knows how turbulent Dew’s moods can be. He rolled with the punches and went about his own morning routine, making sure to give Dew a little extra space in their shared room. 

The morning seemed to have set the tone for the rest of the day. Phantom tiptoed around Dew while the fire ghoul continued to ignore his presence. He knew the ghoul probably just needed some time, so he tried his best to stick to him like a shadow, quiet but close enough if Dew decided he needed him. 

Well, maybe he stayed too close. 

Phantom walked down the hallway back to the den, lost in thought while looking out the window and didn’t realize Dew had slowed his pace. He stumbled, his foot falling on the heel of Dew’s shoe, causing the fire ghoul to trip slightly. Dew caught himself on the wall and turned to Phantom, eyes burning with a fiery rage. Phantom’s cheeks flushed something fierce, an apology already spilling from his lips.

“Can’t you just leave me the fuck alone for five Satan-damned minutes?” Dew hissed, eyes narrowing at the younger ghoul. Phantom jumped back a few steps, raising his hands in defence at the angry tone. Tears pricked behind his eye lids as steam blew out of Dew’s nostrils. 

“I’m sorry! It was an accident,” Phantom rushed out, biting his lip to keep the tears at bay. 

“Seriously? You’ve been breathing down my neck all day. Do I have to spell it out for you?” Dew paused, as if waiting for a response, but Phantom had no idea what he was talking about. “I just need a break; you’re constantly there and sometimes I just want to do things without you. We don’t need to be attached at the hip every second of every day.”

Phantom was at a loss for words. Did he do something wrong? Why did Dew not talk to him about this before now? The confusion must have been written across his face because Dew just scoffed, his head shaking as he continued the walk back to the den alone, leaving Phantom to watch, wondering where it all went wrong. 

“Oh Bug,” Phantom whirled around, wiping furiously at the tear that had started to fall down his cheek. Rain smiled sadly at him, walking forward to wrap his arms around the downtrodden ghoul.

“I can’t believe I didn’t see this coming,” Phantom whimpered into Rain’s chest, shoulders shaking as he took deep breaths of the water ghoul’s scent in an attempt to ground himself.

“Hey, no none of that,” Rain tsked, pulling back slightly so he could hook a finger under Phantom’s chin. He waited for the younger ghoul to meet his eyes before he spoke next. “You didn’t do anything wrong. This is on Dew. He doesn’t get to treat you like that. Just because he’s having a shitty day, it doesn’t make it okay for him to take it out on you.”

Phantom nodded, willing Rain’s words to sink in and take root. 

[skinnywalker]

When we met part 1: the other Tartts (Roy Kent x Jamie tartt's sister reader)

Roy is a very mature man. He wouldn't be caught dead doing the foolish things other men would do for love. He doesn't look at pretty women longingly, he doesn't beg for numbers or socials and he doesn't fawn after girls he can't talk to. That why he hasn't made a move on Tartt's angelic sister.

That's definitely the reason.

She comes into the locker room all the time bringing Jamie gifts and hugs and tales from home. She comes every week without fail. Roy is almost jealous. But he wouldn't be jealous of Jamie. Not in a million years.

She is waiting outside for her ride. She looks beautiful like that. When Jamie isn't around.

"You waiting on someone?"

She turns to look at Roy and smiles. God she looks pretty when she smiles. Her face is like Jamie's if Jamie wasn't a totally prick.

"Yes my Uber. Thought it would be here already."

"Tartt didn't take ya home? That's fucking rude."

She laughs.

"We live apart. Like really far apart."

"Yeah but yar his sister! Ya have special rights!"

She chuckles and pulls her coat on tighter.

"You'd think."

Roy isn't impulse. He isn't. He's smart and he thinks ahead and-

"I'll drive ya home."

"What?"

"I'll drive ya home. It's too cold to stay out here and the club will close soon. I have no where else to go tonight."

She gives him and million excuses but Roy is as stubborn as stone.

"Ok, thank you. You really didn't need to do this."

"Yeah and Tartt didn't need to leave ya out in the cold like a prick. Hop in."

He drives for miles and she begins to doze off.

"Whats your address?"

No response. Roy turns to find that she is asleep. God damnit how can she always look so pretty. Roy can't force himself to wake her up.

He stops outside of his apartment and wakes her up enough to get inside and on his couch. She goes straight back asleep. Best to leave her like this.

Roy can't sleep though. It's eating him alive that he has Jamie's pretty sister in his house on his couch. Why does it matter so much? Why? Roy doesn't fall for girls who don't even know him, right?

He finally falls into a restless sleep. When morning hits he goes into the normal morning routine and stops when he sees her again in his bathroom.

"Hello."

"Hello."

Roy than remembers he is most naked and slips into his robe.

"Do you....do ya need new clothes?"

"I don't think so. Did we?"

"NO! no we didn't do anything! Ya fell asleep in my car is all and I didn't have yar address."

He can't tell her reaction to this news.

"Oh. Ok. Thank you. Thank you for taking me home to sleep. I'm sure it was kind of weird."

It was kind of weird.

"No it was fine. Ya needed a place to sleep and I'd prefer ya to fall asleep in my car rather than some random uber."

She nods. Her face is still unreadable. But then she smiles and her eyes twinkle.

"Can I ask you a weird question? You can ignore it if you want but I just want to know."

"Ask away."

"Are you single?"

What. Roy's brain turns off for a second

"Yes."

"Ok."

Awkward silence falls over them.

"Why?"

"Well, it really touched me that you were willing to take me home and care about me so I was just, you know, curious."

"Curious about?"

She takes a deep breathe.

"Well I've seen you in the locker room for a while and I thought you were cute and you seem kind and intelligent and I've been single for a while so I was just....wondering."

Someone into Roy first? That never happens.

"That's a bit fast, but if we take things slow and if ya don't mind not tell Tartt I...I wouldn't mind trying something."

"Yeah, not telling Jamie is a good idea."

More awkward silence. Roy has never been this awkward with a girl.

"So, are we dating then?"

She smiles

"Depends, do you want to get breakfast together?" Roy smiles for the first time in a while. He is genuinely happy.

"Yes, I would."

(@pyschshawnjulesshanluke happy birthday!)

*part two coming*

[writing-whump]

Sun poisoning

This is a thing, I kid you not. Have some sunburned Matthew with unlikely caretaker Arnie, plus some Matt and Seline fluff. This is one of the vacation prompts from @lisupandowntown. Thank you!!

Or if they go to the sea, someone has to get heat exhaustion - Matt maybe? And starting out with unlikely caretaker Arnie, but then passing him off to both Isaiah and Seline, who step in to tag team?

"Hey? Matt, is that you?"

Matthew groaned in response, trying to unglue himself from the sand. It was the only little shade made by the wall of the cliff leading up towards the restaurants. Or it was, when he collased in it.

Not it just felt hot. Everything felt hot.

"What are you doing here? It's like 4 pm." Arnie's voice was just as obnoxious as always, adding to the headache. "You don't meant to tell me you were here since morning, do you?"

Morning? Matt didn't think it was that early. Right after their regular sparring and breakfast he went to jog along the beach. Since the beaches were endless and had different terrain, Matt kept following the path. The sand and the slight tilt of it made the running harder and therefore improved different muscles. He would be stronger from this.

It was easy to ignore the heat when he was touching the wet sand and the cold water.

Maybe that was the catch, really.

"Wh're did y'come from...?"

Arnie's slim shape actually threw a bit of shadow on his head. Matthew sighed quietly. He couldn't call on his shadow at all, seriously asking himself if it could be overheated into oblivion.

"Just got off the sea taxi. This one goes from Nessebar to the Sea Wind resort, but not all the way to our seaport. I was about to hunt down a taxi." The younger boy crouched down in front of the wolf. "Jesus, your back looks horrible."

Matt wasn't sure he wanted to know. The skin on his back felt tight and itchy and too warm and his head hurt. But it wasn't so bad on the ground as it was standing up.

"Come on, we need to get you off the sun before you melt."

There was a long beat of silence. Matthew wondered if this was his cue to doze back off again.

"Matt, did you hear me?"

"Urgh. What do y'want? Leave me the fuck alone..." The conversation was draining his already very small energy reserves, and it felt like someone had clenched his temples together with a pair of tongs.

"No can do. You pass out here and you could die, you know? Heat exhaustion is a pretty serious thing, even for wolves. Were you never on a beach vacation either?"

Matt just grunted, turning his head away. Everything was too sunny and hot and too much. Arnie was too much. He always was.

"Matt, I'm going to touch your arm, okay?"

When Matt didn't protest, he felt cool fingertips against the top of his shoulder. The touch was tentative and feather-light like Arnie was scared the skin would come right off.

"There is a shower like 5 meters from here. I'll help you, but you gotta move...I can't do this on my own."

Something about that phrase bothered him. It sounded more like a defeated admission than a complaint.

Matthew grumbled under his breath but forced his arms against the moving sand to lift himself up. His hands were shaking from the extortion and he bit back a moan at moving. His whole back ached terribly, the muscles under the skin pulling at it with needles.

Arnie's tiny frame got under his arm that instant, propping him up. Small but stable and with a willful goal. Matthew lef the steering to him, mustering up all the fuel he could into his legs to get them off the ground and moving.

He couldn't see, stars dancing in his vision as he squinted at the sun. If it wasn't for Arnie he couldn't have held his balance either. Everything was twirling. His throat hurt like it was coated with sand and his mouth was perched. God, he fucked up something again.

"Okay wait, where are your sunglasses? Ah I see them, hang on-" Arnie bend down swiftly to get the discarded sunglasses that dug into the side of Matthew's head lying down and put them back on his head.

They stumbled towards the shower, which was just a pillar with a shower head at the end. Matthew leaned against it as another support point, afraid to topple the fragile blonde boy beside him.

"Alright, we made it. Bend down a little..." Arnie fumbled with a little stick that turned the shower off.

Ice-cold water exploded over Matthew's overheated head. He groaned as it assaulted his senses. It was like a strike to the head.

"Shhhh, hang on, hang on. I swear this will help," Arnie assured him frantically, holding onto Matthew's elbow to steady him. "Just a bit longer."

The effect was energizing, though. The world came back into focus as Matthew blinked and straightened, readjusting his wet glasses over his eyes. He was finally able to enjoy the shade they provided. His hair dripped with the cold water sliding down his exposed back, but the sensation was more soothing than painful.

Arnie was holding his sleeveless black top in a sandy ball in his hands. "Can you get it on? Or you think it will hurt too much?"

"I'm not hurt," Matthew protested, glad his voice had some strength to it again. Fuh, that was a close one.

Arnie shook his head. "Sure, you are not. I'll leave that revelation for your pack to handle...think you can walk? We need to find a road where a taxi can pick us up."

"It's like 30 minutes down the beach per foot-"

"We're taking a taxi," Arnie said decisively. "Your brain is fried, so I'm in charge."

Matthew huffed in amusement. That was such a wolf thing to say.

Arnie grabbed him by the elbow unceremoniously and dragged him away from the shower before he could protest. Even if he wanted to—he was way bigger and stronger than the kid—he stumbled along awkwardly. He still felt off-kilter, like he was drunk.

Arnie chose the first and most expensive taxi they found on the street and ushered Matt inside, not caring one bit the driver didn't understand German. Or English or any language Matthew heard about. Arnie just kept repeating the name of the apartment complex they stayed at and it seemed to do the trick.

Matthew didn't want to wear the sweaty shirt, but leaning back against the seat left him hissing at the pain. "Ow, fuck."

"See? Told you."

"Why do you have to sound so damn happy about it?" Matt leaned his forehead against the front seat, glad Arnie was behind the driver so he could hold onto it. The jostling of the car, on top of his headache and hotness, had his stomach flipping.

Arnie frowned, offended. "I'm not happy, geez. Don't say that."

Matt was quiet as the taxi moved, trying to swallow whatever hot, scratchy thing was trying to claw its way up his thirsty throat. His mouth was burning. "So what were you doing there? Alone?" He ended up saying in an attempt for distraction.

"Well, who else would go with me? You guys spend all your time on the pup training, pass out inside, swim and do it all over again."

"That's why you sleep till noon and then avoid everyone for the rest of the day?"

"I'm not avoiding anyone. It's just...don't really have a place with the wolves, do I?" Arnie pouted, watching the colorful designs of various hotels and apartments behind the window. "I'm not troublesome enough for attention..." His voice trailed off. The blonde cleared it, starting with a new poisonous vigor. "You are going about it in a good way, though. Everyone is always so worried, Isaiah watches you more than Hector."

Matthew squeezed his eyes shut, muffling a burp against his fist. His limbs felt so heavy he had to let his hand drop back immediately, pressing only his forehead against the back of the seat. "That's nonsense. If you just showed up, nobody would ignore you."

Arnie huffed, giving him a quick glance before looking away again.

"I don't get you, man...if I could get rid of the shadow...if I could just focus on the people for five minutes instead of fighting it...I would be always tagging along."

Arnie's eyes widened as he took a double glance at Matthew. "What?! I have never seen a wolf not wanting his shadow."

Matthew snorted, head trailing off to the side at a sudden turn. He ended up plastered against the cool surface of the window. "You should enjoy how clear your mind is. You got a working brain and yet you only mouth off to others...I don't see what is there to have a complex about."

"Hector has a clear mind enough. He doesn't need...it's no use." Arnie sounded uncharacteristically small as he said it.

Matthew gulped down heavily. The nausea was a constant now, bubbling up in his cramping stomach. He shut his eyes again. "Oh, he could have use of you, alright. He is a self-centered despot who can't see farther than his nose. You...you can read people. You could help him a bunch."

"With the pack?"

"With everything." Arnie could read people, Matt was sure of it, or his biting remarks wouldn't be so effective. He must have had empathy somewhere in there.

Now that he thought of it, though, what if Arnie and Hector stuck together so much because they were both really bad at socializing? Hector didn't know how to talk with people he wasn't ordering around. Arnie couldn't be bothered to say anything nice, but he knew exactly where it would hurt.

Instead of answering, Arnie studied him for a long moment. Matthew almost managed to dose off, when Arnie shook his arm gently. "We are here."

The blonde actually circled the car to open Matthew's door and hold it for him as he fell out of it, paying the driver and waving him off. "Still standing? Do you need to lean on me some more?"

"I can manage," Matthew said tensely, but when Arnie wiggled himself under his arm again, he didn't protest. Obviously, Arnie had enough experience with prideful wolves.

Especially since the way to their apartment was down the hill over the unsteady stony steps and then up to the third floor of the building again. The little steadying pressure of Arnie against him was keeping Matt upright.

Three on the way they had to stop because Matt's head was spinning too much. Twice, he thought he was going to vomit and one time he actually retched. The impact had his skull shaking in his head.

When they finally reached the right door, they were both panting for breath.

"Here. Will you manage?"

Matt grabbed the doorframe with one hand. "Yeah. Thanks." Which sounded way too weak for how much effort Arnie just put into dragging his ass from the beach.

"Hey, Arnie?" Matt pressed his left temple again the cool metal of the frame, afraid the door would collapse under his full weight.

"Yes?"

"There is nothing 'cool' about being the one everyone worries about." He let out a long exhale. "Trust me. Don't play the victim. You just give up all your power like that."

He felt too dizzy to lift his eyes and watch Arnie's expression, but when no remark came, Matt counted it as a win and shuffled inside.

...

"I told you not to be in the sun during lunch! And to wear suncream and a shirt at all times!" Seline was hissing into his ear, but even in her anger, her voice was quiet. She was taking his headache more seriously than he did.

"I was wearing the shirt," he grumbled, folding his hands under his head. "...got it off when I was hot."

"That's your clue to get out of the sun, not to roast in it!" She was currently kneeling at his side, applying a generous dosage of transcutaneous but thick aloe vera all over his back.

The touch hurt although her hands were careful. He still felt so overheated and he couldn't stand lying on his back or have anything touch it. The pain felt like he was burned alive and it the aftershocks lasted long.

Hell, he couldn't move properly, with how much area was affected. Not that he wanted to. There was a heavy, floaty feeling all over him, as if he had a fever and the nausea was still tingling in his insides.

"I can't believe you," Seline muttered darkly under her nose, massaging the cream on his burnt shoulders and upper arms too. "You are banned from going out without sleeves, you moron."

Matthew moaned, more to be dramatic than in actual pain. He was lying down in a nicely cool room and Seline was fussing over him. Maybe a little attention didn't hurt after all.

He felt such relief collapsing on top of the duvet in the living room and letting her take care of him. No need to understand anything when she was there, acting like she had done it hundreds of times before.

Still worth her care.

The knowledge settled his insides and made him sigh in relief, more likely to sleep than pass out, nausea or not.

Seline put the back of her cool hand against his warm dry cheek. "You need to drink lots of fluids."

"Hmmm....this feels good. Your hands are always so cold."

Seline snorted. "That's bad blood circulation, not an advantage, silly."

Matthew could only whine as her hand disappeared. She went to the sink and brought him a big glass of water.

He turned to the side, not attempting to lift himself up.

Seline sighed but held the rim to his lips as he took a few careful sips. He was so thirsty, but the water landed like tons of bricks in his stomach and he wasn't about to dial the nausea up more.

Getting back to her feet, she pursed her lips. "What am I going to do with you?"

"Isaiah's still sleeping?"

"Yep. Out like a light on clock." As if even his body seeked order and routine, Isaiah always napped in the afternoon. Seline and Matt tried not to let it alarm them. He was still recovering, even if he acted almost normal.

"I think you'll skip practice today," she commented, looking over his back again. "I hope this won't peel off. It might hurt more in 24 hours, so let me know if you don't want a painkiller-"

She stopped when she noticed his fingers snatching at her long flowy turquoise dress. Matt had never seen her wear so many dresses, but she had nothing else on during this trip. Jumping from one to another.

"Could just stay with me?" Matt mumbled sleepily.

"Of course." She climbed up on the duvet, sitting down against the wall, facing the TV. "You are in for some Korean romance dramas though."

Matthew rolled his eyes, rolling so he could rest his head in her lap. He wrapped his arms around her tights, securing his human pillow.

Her cold hands went into his hair, combing through them. Matt melted at the contact, a content noise escaping as he closed his eyes.

Soon the TV started to play behind his head, but it was quiet, Seline focusing on the subtitles.

Her fingers scratched against his scalp gently. "Don't run yourself to the ground again. Please. If something isn't right...if you are worried about something, you can tell me."

Matthew hummed, but he could hardly make his brain work through the sleepy fogginess. "I'm alright...same old, same old." That was the problem, really. That he wasn't improving, that his issues were always the same.

A sudden jolt of fear had him tensing up. "I'm not keeping a secret. I'm never going to keep anything from you again. Promise."

Her other hand stroked his cheek soothingly, but he felt her breathe out at the words as well. "Okay. I'm-...yes, I would like that."

The energy shot left just as quickly. Matt deflated like a balloon into her lap again, wincing as it pulled at his back.

His conversation with Arnie flashed through his mind and he closed his eyes again. "I'm no good...at being a wolf."

I'm so sorry.

"Hmmm, you are right." She said so nonchalantly. Matthew's breath caught, his stomach sinking.

"You don't really remind me of a wolf. A dragon maybe?" Her voice was gentle, lightly teasing. "You look all scary and breathe fire at people, but you are so protective of what's yours. And," he could hear the smile in her voice, "you are all red."

He chuckled despite himself, relaxing under her hands. "That's your argument?"

"Well, you are! From hair to toe at the moment."

"What does this line of thinking make you then, an ocean pixie?"

"This is not the ocean, it's Black Sea!"

"...exactly my point. You love it so much. Now that I think about it, you are kinda obsessed with blue." He turned his head so he could watch her face get adorably flushed, stormy eyes sparkling.

"S-so what?"

Matt laughed at the stutter. "Dragon. Huh, I like that." Felt more like a title than a label. He loved she somehow turned his worst failure into a honorific.

It suited him just fine.

[deadlynightshade-and-hyacinth]

Im gonna Crawl

Chapter One 

July 20 1973 - Boston, MA

 Jimmy Page/OC Enemies to lovers trope cause I can.

Cali has been hired by Led Zeppelin to handle everything and anything that has to do with the filming and artistic vision of their three day concert at MSG. Jimmy is a jerk and a pain in the ass and kinda a piece of shit. Bare with it and take it with a grain of salt. I wrote this a hundred years ago so dont come for me and I am trying to edit but, really; it is what it is.

“Um, where have you been?” He was taken off guard but quick to throw that edge in his tone.I knew I was in shit. Clearly he was affected by my current lack of responsibility and propensity to answer his non-stop calls since last Tuesday. Like helloooo… take a hint, pal.

“Been under the weather.”

There was a small pause. “I’ve been calling for a week… It’s Monday. You were supposed to meet the client on Friday. You know I don’t tolerate no-shows. No matter how good you are at yo—

“Are you firing me Jonathan?” My tone, unmoved. At this point who gives a fuck. It’s just the career I worked so hard to climb and maintain. Watch me sit back and let it all crumble under my own tyranny. A cesspool of anguish, dread, and apathy.  All the love and passion I had for anything and anyone had completely diminished the moment I had stepped into Daniel’s dank office.  

He sighed heavily. “No, Cali. I’m not firing you. But you need to show up to work. We have new clients waiting for your go ahead. If you can’t make it, I’m sure Stu can fill in for you.” He was baiting me. Stu was an idiot and he knew it and he knew that I knew it. Stu is an idiot and he knows it and he knows that I know it.  

“When’s the next meeting?” I took the lure, unwillingly. 

“Tomorrow morning. Some big-time band wants their concert filmed.” He paused and sucked in a large breath. “These are important clients. Willing to pay big and we need the business so please, please, please don’t fuck this up, kid.”  

I rolled my eyes. “Have I ever fucked up?” 

“No, but I can see you snowballing down a big hill… What’s going o-” 

“Nothing personal here, Jon, but I really don’t want a pow-wow. Let’s keep things professional.” I cut him off. I liked Jonathan; he was a good boss but he always tried to pry. I don’t like people who pry.

“So, I’ll see you tomorrow morning, right?” He dropped it. “Nine-thirty A.M.” He emphasized. 

“Yes, sir.” I breathed then placed the phone back on the receiver. 

I laid my head on my pillow, sinking further into oblivion. Not even thirty seconds after I hung up the phone rang again. I sat up and wretched the phone from its cradle. “I said I would be there Jon!”

“Cali…” His voice was raw and rough. “Why have you been ignoring my calls?” 

I clenched my jaw and took a deep breath through my nose, exhaling loudly. “Daniel.” I murmured with quiet irritation. “I’ve been busy.” I lied. 

“Busy with what?” His tone was sharp and accusatory. “Where have you been? With Jon? Is he the guy you’ve been fucking around with?” 

“Excuse me?” The audacity of this bitch. “You have no right to accuse me of anything.” 

“No right?” He yelled. “I have every right. You belong to me. You don’t have the right-” 

“I’m sorry, but I’m pretty sure that you’re the one fucking anything that moves in that dingy bar you call a business.” I retorted. 

He was quiet. For a minute he didn’t say anything. He knew I was right. I had a million reasons not to be with this man but for the life of me I wasn’t strong enough to let him go. “I’m coming over.” He stated. 

I looked over at the clock, it read 7:45 p.m. “No. I have an early morning and I’m really not in the mood to chat. I’ll call you tomorrow.” I hung up the phone before he could protest. 

I dropped back onto the pillow with a sigh. When I closed my eyes, I could see last Monday night. I had gotten off work and decided I would surprise him at the bar he managed. We had both been so busy with work we had only seen each other for a few hours in the evening four times in the past two weeks. He was cold and sometimes demeaning but he loved me, cared for me. This was no Romeo and Juliet, though.  We were both damaged goods. Meant to be I had thought at one point. Turns out I’m just a fucking idiot.

Monday evening, I had rushed home, donned Daniel's favorite little black dress and drove to the bar, The Tam. When I arrived, I walked in confidently, greeted the bartender, Tim, grabbed a bottle of Southern Comfort and headed to the manager’s office, ignoring the odd look Tim had on his face. When I opened the door the liquor bottle slipped from my hand and shattered around my feet. Behind the desk was Karen, another bartender I had only met a couple of times, sitting on Daniel's lap, skirt hiked up around her waist, Daniel’s jeans at his ankles. 

“Jesus.” I muttered. 

Karen looked at me like a deer caught in the headlights and behind her shoulder I could see the smug tone underneath Daniel’s faux apologetic gaze. 

As hard as I tried to fight them, I could feel the tears welling in my eyes. I refused to let him see them. I turned on my heels and left the bar in silence. I held myself together as I drove back to my apartment. When I finally made it, I closed the door, locked it, and leaned my body weight against it. With my fists in balls, I slid down the door and finally let go. The tears welled and rained down my cheeks. I sat there on the floor, unable to move, unable to see what I needed to forget. An hour later I heard the clumsy footsteps approaching my door. 

My breath hitched, I started taking quiet and shallow breaths. I flinched when his fist hit the door. “Cal!” He groaned through the wood. 

I stayed silent. I didn’t dare speak knowing full well my voice would betray me. I sat at the door for another thirty minutes listening to him begging and pleading then banging and cursing. When he had finally left, I poured myself a drink. And that was the beginning of everything.  

I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling. I let out a deep breath and shook the memory from my head. I had no more tears left. I had been crying for over a week and was tired of it. 

“Shower.” I exhaled. I definitely needed one. I didn’t have enough strength or energy to stand so I sat in the tub and let the water rain over me.

The morning was hard. I dragged myself out of bed and did my best to look presentable. Somewhat presentable. I didn’t want to go. I wanted to crawl back into bed and rot for eternity but I'd rather sit on a pile of lit cherry bombs than let Stu win.

Before I left the house I took a few puffs off last night's joint. Jonathan would not approve. He detested marijuana said it was for half-wits and hippies. The dude needs to get the twig out of his ass.

I made it to work with only minutes to spare. I lit a cigarette and ran through the lobby not bothering to greet the lady behind the front desk who’s name always seemed to escape me. I made it to the conference room just as Jonathan was greeting the clients. 

There were four men standing in the room. A large brick wall of a man shaking Jon’s hand looked up at me through the glass door and nodded toward me. Jon turned around, his expression going from a quiet panic to pure relief. Like at any moment he's gonna stand on the table and start praising hallelujah. 

I entered the room and stamped my cigarette out in an ashtray. 

“You’re late.” Jon mumbled at me. 

“Thanks, Jon. I can read a clock.” I retorted quietly. 

“Can you?” He murmured barely audibly. He looked at the men and gestured to me, “This is Cali, she will be taking care of everything.” 

“Pleased to meet you.” I nodded. And with that Jon left the room to me. 

The big man extended his hand to me. “Peter Grant. Manager of the band.” He smiled, taking my hand and shaking it. “This is Robert, Jonesy, and John.” He pointed to each member of the band.   

“A pleasure to meet you.” I smiled back. 

“Ashante.” Robert's smile was sweet as sugar as pressed his lips to the back of my hand. Before he let go of my hand, he sniffed around it, his smile grew wider. He raised an eyebrow “By the smell of it, you’ll be quite fun to have around.” He winked. “I was afraid we’d end up with an old stiff like the last bloke.” 

“I haven't a clue what you're referring to.” My smile was coy. 

He gave a small chuckle and winked.  “So, we would love to get down to the nitty gritty and tell you what it is we are looking for from you but we apologetically are one man short. He too had a rough night.” Robert gave a look as though he was a child about to be scolded. “Fortunately, we can tell you what we…” He gestures to himself and the other two band members. “… want. Unfortunately, we cannot speak for Jimmy. I would try but he would no doubt complain.” 

“Okay.” I smiled. “So, should we meet at another time?” 

“Well,” Peter rubbed his chin in thought. “We have a show tonight at the Garden. Then we set out for Providence. The boys have the 22nd off then we head over to Baltimore for the 23rd and Pittsburgh on the 24th.” 

“Then two glorious days off!” Robert chimed, flashing his teeth with a smile. 

“We’ll be in New York on the 27th for three shows at Madison Square Garden and that’s where you will come in.” Peter finished his attention directed at me. 

“So, we will be filming the three shows there?” I made the conclusion. “Why start filming at the end of your tour?” 

Robert sat in a chair at the round table and put his feet up, crossing his ankles. “Ask Jimmy.” He murmured bitterly. 

“What Jimmy wants; Jimmy gets.” Peter confirmed. 

My eyes narrowed slightly. Who the fuck is this guy?“So, I’ll be meeting you in New York on the 27th?” I assumed. 

Peter and the boys looked at each other. Peter chuckled and shook his head. “No, lovey, you’ll be joining us today.” 

“Oh.” I pursed my lips. “So, we will be filming more than just the three shows in New York?” I was slightly taken aback. 

“No.” Peter smirked amused. “Jimmy,” He sighed heavily. “Would like you and your respective company to get a feel of the band and what they’re about before we start filming. He likes to be very…” He chose his words carefully. “thorough.” 

“Fair enough.” I agreed. “I should meet with Jimmy as soon as possible to fully understand his vision.” God, that sounds pretentious. 

“Yes, he definitely wants to meet with the head of filming. Said he has lots to discuss.” Peter smiled warmly. 

“Shall I set up a meeting for just him and I to go over everything?” I wondered. 

John scoffed loudly. “Trust me, darling. You don’t want to be alone with good Ol’ Pagey.” 

“Enough, Bonzo!” Peter scolded 

Robert turned in his chair to look at Peter. “You know full well how he is.” He looked at me then back at Peter. “Especially around someone of her… caliber.” 

He gave Robert a look of warning. “He’ll be on his best behavior.” Peter assured me. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Enjoy if you want. Leave if you want. Love you all

Thank you @dreamcastgirl99

[henrysglock]

oh my god i just realised the way this fandom treats will byers is the same way ppl defend white women's covert bigotry and purport it as "feminism" 😭 (not saying will's a bigot, but that tendency to be defensive over him just bc he's soft and delicate is the same way ppl can be so defensive of certain white women celebrities bc they're also soft and delicate)

The language used is...interestingly similar. The behaviors excused are also interestingly similar.

Will was outwardly a dick to El at the airport because he was pissed that Mike was giving her more affection and attention?

No...he was just confused :( genuinely confused! He can't be held responsible. I'm not weaponizing baselessly-assumed incompetence to make Will seem like a perfect little angle. Don't think about it too hard, look at his big, sweet cow eyes :((((

Will was playing martyr—a very common manipulation tactic to get others to relieve you of blame or criticism—when he pulled the "No...it was all my fault...I deserved it all..." card even though both he and Mike acknowledged that they were both at fault the previous night?

No :( He wasn't blame shifting, he was being genuinely self-deprecating :( Ignore that his mood flipped like a switch as soon as Mike took the bait and placed all the blame for the night on himself. Totally not crocodile tears. He's sensitive.

Will used El as a shield and a mouthpiece in the van, lying about her feelings so he could covertly express his own? Which directly contributed to the godawful SBP monologue? (See: "You're the heart of the party..." -> "You're the heart, Mike!")

No...Will was being selfless and saintly by giving Mike to El. It's that sad? Don't you feel bad for him? Isn't he perfect, giving away his possible maybe future boyfriend to El like the Tonka truck? Ignore that by doing this ^^ he's commodifying Mike and stripping him of his autonomy in both relationships. Ignore the fact that he's actively putting words in El's mouth, lying on her behalf, and thereby stripping her of her autonomy as well. He's not a homewrecker, he's fixing the house! Even though he's fixing it with duct tape, painting over the duct tape, and selling it as sound when it ought to be condemned. Cheer for him patching it up when it shouldn't be! He's such a saint! An angel!

Will let El flounder in school when he was in a position to do the compassionate thing and help her, even in the barest way of "Hey, just so you know, this project is supposed to be about world-famous people" and then letting El fuck around and find out afterward?

No...that's not his job, it wouldn't have fixed anything, and also :( he's scared of bullies! Never mind that all of this could have taken place at home, where there are no bullies. He's scared! He's delicate :((( He can't do any active good. But hey, he looked at El with sympathy! That's good enough, right? That's not performative at all! He's just too scared to take direct action on his sister's behalf. Feel bad for him!

Will told El they'd fix her diorama together, but then we only ever see her fixing it alone, meaning it was also performative? Will would rather spend his morning pushing his food around his plate and moping about Mike caring about El?

Noooo...it's because...you can't criticize him because...um...[runs away].

Will was willing to sacrifice Mrs. Driscoll and let El go in blind re: flayed Billy despite having firsthand experience being flayed and being saved from flaying? Objectively utilitarian and unsympathetic behavior that betrays a certain degree of selfishness and callousness in Will, specifically re: the supernatural and other victims of it?

No...he's so traumatized that he can't bear to talk about it, even when so many lives are on the line :( Feel bad for him :( Don't criticize him :( Don't say that the only way this kind of behavior is "excusable" is if Will genuinely doesn't remember anything :((( That's not niceys! He's just a little guy, look at his big, sad eyes :(((

But hey, the pre-S1 pitch for Will calls him gentle/delicate/sensitive. And you can't question the original pitch, not when it comes to [checks notes] 4 seasons of character development post-pitch.