#is picturing the other muse just like. Holding the door open for him once they got the call that he was running from the cops and- | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

puma-riki · 19 days ago

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No One Noticed...

Warnings: consistent cursing, kms/kys jokes [Subject to change every chapter]

Status: Ongoing (Start: 092124)

Taglist: @bee-the-loser @iaintseggsy @channieismylove @yangjungwonnie @luluvhs @nikiswifiee @kingofthekards @skepvids @sammie217 @sh0dor1 @sirens-dreams @starfallia @polarisjisung @minhosimthings @mochiwonz @jiiyen @strawberrieswithchocolateo3o @ritzy-dream-boy @roseangelxfuma @sugarikiz @stvrriki @eczlipse @ddolleri @dangerousgardenchild @roarr-ki | Comment on any chapter from No One Noticed... saying you want to be added to the taglist!! or send me an ask !! | bold could not be tagged :c

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A/N: No header picture because there's a limit of 30 images my bad ANYWAY ENJOY OR WHATEVER There are written parts sprinkled in with the pictures!

16. 𝖎 𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖕𝖗𝖔𝖙𝖊𝖈𝖙 𝖞𝖔𝖚…

6:52pm

Ni-ki stood outside the door to your apartment, taking a steadying breath. He checked his reflection in his phone, giving himself a quick once-over. Running a hand through his hair, he tried to look a little more put together before knocking.

It took a couple of minutes before he heard rushed footsteps approaching, and he jumped slightly when he heard a sudden, dull thud from the other side.

"Shit," he heard you mutter.

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as the door swung open. You stood there, breathless, eyes wide with slight embarrassment.

"Hey," you said, a little flustered.

"Did you just run into the door?"

"No… must've been the wind you heard or something," you said biting your lip to stop a laugh from bubbling up and glancing to the side as your cheeks tinted pink.

Cute.

He stifled a snort, but the warmth in his smile gave him away. He liked this side of you—the side that was relaxed enough to laugh at yourself. Two months ago, you barely even looked him in the eye outside of tutoring sessions. Now, you were inviting him over, letting him into your space. And more than anything, you felt comfortable enough to make jokes with him, even silly ones like this.

"Anyway sorry, I'm still finishing getting ready, come inside!" You told him, stepping aside for him to enter.

When he did, you closed the door. He took a moment to look around from where he stood. Your place was minimalist, which he kind of expected since you were only here for college, but it still had so much of you written all over it.

Lamps scattered across the space, each unique in size, color, and style, providing a warm, almost cozy ambiance. It was so… you.

There was a single coaster on the coffee table holding a cat-themed mug that seemed to have been left there for a while. A Nintendo Switch rested in its dock below the TV. The dining area was just three bar stools facing the kitchen, simple but functional. It was clear you hadn’t lived here long, but it already had a kind of charm to it—a charm that felt uniquely yours.

Before he could look any further you rushed past him, "My rooms down this way." You turned to him to nod down the hallway, gesturing for him to follow.

He trailed after you, and by the time he entered, you were already sitting at your desk in front of a small mirror, makeup products scattered around. He couldn't help but smile to himself. Two months ago, this would’ve been unthinkable, he mused. Back then, you’d kept things strictly professional—biology, study notes, and maybe a little small talk. Now he was here, watching you get ready for a night out with him and his friends.

"Wow, I've only seen your room on Facetime. It's kinda weird being here for real," He awed as he looked around. He found it to be true that a girl's room was a museum of everything she ever loved. You had posters of different bands and music artists on the walls, your desk had piles of papers, that he assumed were a mix of schoolwork and study materials, and a bunch of random trinkets.

"Look, this is where you'd put me..." He joked in faux amazement as he stood beside your chair and touched the space you'd usually prop your phone up against when you called him (or more so when he called you)

"I know, is it everything you thought it would be?" Your tone was light as you rubbed your makeup brush in blush (?) is what Ni-ki wanted to say it was.

"Kind of, who knew you were a hoarder." he teased, picking up a small jar filled with buttons, stones, and little knick-knacks, turning it around in his hand.

"Don't insult my jar of things." You lightly elbowed his side from where you sat.

"Where do you even get this stuff, do you pick it up off the street?" Ni-ki was joking, and you knew that. He looked down at you and saw the smile you were fighting as you ran the brush over your cheeks.

"No, actually. Some of those were from my house, and some are things I just… collect" You shrugged, closing the blush pallet and moving to open a tube of mascara. "Which may or may not have been picked up off the street,"

He chuckled, but inside, his heart was doing a different sort of flip. This closeness with him standing right next to where you sat, this openness, this easygoing chatter—it was new, and it made him realize just how much he liked this version of you. He knew you were still a bit nervous about meeting his friends tonight, despite the fact that you’d messaged back and forth with them. But he also knew that this version of you, the one who could laugh about running into doors and defend jars of random knick-knacks, would be just fine.

Watching you apply your makeup, Ni-ki felt a little less nervous himself. It wasn’t just that he was here in your room; it was that you wanted him here. And though he didn’t dare voice it, he hoped you’d want him around for a while.

"Did you hear anything back from the cafe? I haven't heard anything from Jungwon about it yet." He returned the jar back to its spot next to your computer.

"I did! They actually called me a few minutes ago asking if I can come in next week for an interview." Ni-kis eyes lingered on your expression as you talked. Your smile reached your eyes and your eyes had small stars in them. "I'm really nervous, but I'm also excited because I think I'll get it- not to be egotistical." You suddenly turned away from the mirror and pointed your brush towards him as if to prove a point. Ni-ki only smiled, "I was thinking earlier."

"Yeah?" He began to leave his spot next to you and wonder towards the other side of your room.

"Mhm, I think it'll be really cute to work there during the holidays! You know how all the shops around the city set up for Christmas and whatnot, with all the lights and wreaths." You continued to ramble to him as he stopped in front of your bookshelf. You had some volumes of manga and manhwas, albums from different artists, regular books, and those figurines you'd get in blind boxes.

He picked one up and inspected it, It was a duck. Its eyes were drawn as small black circles and had overdramatic rosy cheeks. Its beak was sort of downturned into a child-like pout. To complete its dorky look it had thin silver framed glasses.

"...and I think it'd be-" You turned in your chair towards Ni-ki. You smiled seeing him holding the small duck figure with furrowed brows.

"I found that at a thrift shop, I think. Isn't he cute?"

"He looks dorky," He said disinterested and placing the duck back on the shelf,

"He's cute, you just think you're too tough to think so," You rolled your eyes and turned back to your mirror. You were done with your makeup, which was just mascara, eyeliner, and blush. Now you were focused on your hair.

Ni-ki left the bookshelf and plopped down on your bed, just behind where you sat. He leaned back on his hands and tilted his head, looking at you smooth out your hair.

For a moment, he watched you quietly, almost mesmerized by how natural this felt, just the two of you, getting ready together. He hesitated, then finally asked, “So, how are you feeling about tonight? The whole haunted Halloween event and, you know… meeting my friends?”

You paused, glancing at him in the mirror. “Honestly? I’m nervous,” you admitted, setting down the brush and fidgeting with a loose strand of hair. “I mean, I’m not exactly used to stuff like this—big group outings or… being invited anywhere, really."You spun your chair around to face him, your hands pressed together and shoved between your legs shyly. "And I want your friends to like me, even though they already seem nice online. and stuff”

You felt kind of like a loser shying away from him and admitting to Ni-ki that you didn't get invited out often, But Ni-ki was fighting cuteness aggression as you did so.

Still, he nodded, listening intently, but couldn’t help feeling a bit proud. The fact that you cared about this, about them liking you, meant something to him. He nudged your shoe with his. “Hey, you’ve already won them over. Soon enough they'll start coddling you like annoying older siblings,” he said with a grin. Your lips were pressed into a thin line, still unsure. “I’m serious—they’re really excited to meet you, and they already think you’re great.”

You gave a small, bashful smile, lowering your gaze. “I don’t know… I just... don’t want to be the one weird, quiet person in the group.”

He chuckled. “First of all, that’s kind of my job. Second, you’ll be fine. Just be you—” He sat up and leaned in slightly, voice softer. “Plus, if you get freaked out at the haunted houses, you can use me as a shield.”

"I was already planning on that, don't worry." You rolled your eyes playfully, your heart settling to a steady rhythm.

Your eyes settled back onto Ni-ki. He pulled out his phone as it began to buzz. You assumed it was the others, asking where you were, however you felt no sense of urgency to get up and out the door. You felt perfectly content with Ni-ki, sitting on your bed in your room.

As he checked his phone, you took a quiet moment to watch him. It amazed you sometimes, just how natural it felt having him here, settled into your space as if he belonged. Not long ago, you couldn’t imagine anyone coming over, let alone Ni-ki, of all people—the one who kept showing up in your life, whether through FaceTime calls at random hours or by sliding into the seat next to you in biology. He always seemed to need your attention, as if your presence was somehow grounding for him.

It was new for you, this feeling of having someone who wanted you around, someone who not only noticed you but insisted on being close. And as you watched him now, texting away without any hurry, a soft warmth spread through you.

Ni-ki had become this steady presence, someone who didn’t mind your quieter moments or your quirks. He’d brought an energy to your life that you hadn’t expected, nudging you out of your routines and reminding you what it felt like to be seen and cared for. For the first time in a long time, you felt like your life was shifting, opening up. Maybe even expanding.

"You ready to go now?" He asked, pulling you out of your thoughts.

"Yeah, let's go!"

7:25pm

The moment you arrived with Ni-ki close by your side, it had been utter chaos in the best way. Jay and Sunghoon greeted you with a casual wave when they noticed you both approaching. Sunoo gave you a sweet smile, raising a hand in an overdramatic wave, his excitement visible in his eyes. Then Jungwon clasped your hands, grinning widely as he started bouncing in a circle, pulling you with him, his excitement contagious. Jake went for a dap, and though you fumbled through it with an awkward laugh, Jake chuckled, finding your attempt endearing in an older brother sort of way. Heeseung dapped you up too, then ushered you and Jake into a close circle to take a picture.

Watching the whole thing, Ni-ki had a stupid smile on his face (read: lovesick)

Now, you stand next to Ni-ki, arms crossed, trying to keep up with the chaos of everyone’s suggestions. The group has formed a loose circle just outside the amusement park entrance, and Jay holds one of the amusement park maps, pointing at different sections while everyone else bickers and talks over each other. The park is decorated with typical Halloween decorations, red and orange lights, fog that settles just above the crowd's feet, pumpkins and fake bloodies dummies scattered around the place, and of course, scare actors lurking about. You're looking all around you, taking in the scene the park has created especially for tonight. To be honest, you don't mind where you start in the park, you're just happy to be here.

Ni-ki, unbeknownst to you, has been attentive. He wants to make sure you're comfortable and not feeling left out. He wants you to have fun. He's looking at you now, your head is turned away from him, but he can still see the way your eyes flitter around in curiosity. He notices the way your mouth forms a 'o' shape when you see a guy, across the way, on stilts chug some sort of liquid and then spit out fire above the crowd, making them scream and laugh in amazement.

Ni-ki found himself fighting that feeling of cuteness aggression again. When he finally tears his eyes away from you and returns to the bickering coming from in front of him, he notices Sunoo giving him a pointed look. He raises his eyebrows at him to say 'What?'.

“Why would we go to the haunted house first? We basically get that experience out here.” Sunghoon complains, looking mildly distressed.

Heeseung grins at him, clearly enjoying the opportunity to tease. “Sunghoon, just admit you’re too scared to do the haunted house right off the bat,” he smirks.

“I’m not scared,” Sunghoon protests, but his eyes dart around the park nervously, as if he’s already anticipating the jump scares lurking within.

Meanwhile, Jake is trying to rally support for the roller coasters. “Listen, if we’re going to do this right, we start with a big coaster. It’s the only way to get our adrenaline going,” he argues, but Jungwon shakes his head, muttering something about “easing into it.”

Amid all this, you notice a shadowy figure moving among the crowd at the entrance. A few feet away, a scare actor in a clown mask, wielding a chainsaw with no blade, is prowling around, clearly on the lookout for his next target. You make the mistake of locking eyes with him. Immediately, the clown tilts his head, holding your gaze for just a moment too long before raising the chainsaw and revving it with a menacing roar.

Your heart leaps, and without thinking, you latch onto Ni-ki’s arm which is shoved in the pockets of his jacket. “Riki,” you say, eyes wide as the clown starts marching toward your group, the chainsaw’s roar growing louder. Ni-ki turns to you, grinning as he realizes the source of your panic.

“Riki, Riki, Riki!” You chant his name in growing alarm, gripping his arm tighter as you try to keep your nerves in check. It’s all part of the act, you know—but the thrill of it sends a giddy sort of panic through you as you cling to him, feeling the warmth of his arm through the cool October air.

Ni-ki laughs, finding it funny—and maybe a little surreal—that you’re hanging onto him so tightly. His heart starts racing, not at the clown, but at the way you’ve buried your face in his arm. His mind spins with the idea that out of everyone here, it’s him you chose to cling to.

The clown is practically upon you two, revving the chainsaw inches from where you stand. You squeal, face pressed into Ni-ki’s sleeve, and he chuckles, entertained and a little breathless from the nearness of you.

The clown eventually shifts focus and charges toward the rest of the group, who’ve remained blissfully unaware until now. Jay, Sunoo, and Jungwon immediately start tripping over each other and scatter, their screams a mix of laughter and terror as they sprint in opposite directions. Jake’s laughter turns to a yelp as he dodges behind Heeseung, who starts to back away, wide-eyed. Sunghoon finally breaks his cool, darting off with a scream, Jake following close behind.

“Not scared my ass!” Jake yells as he disappears into the fog, with the clown in hot pursuit.

Ni-ki laughs, watching his friends flee in all directions. You finally look up, cheeks warm as you let out a breathless laugh, loosening your grip on his arm.

“You good?” he teases, eyebrow raised. “See? I told you I’d be your shield.”

“Wow, my hero,” you reply with an eye-roll, though you can’t quite hide your smile. “You sure did a lot to fend him off.”

Ni-ki grins, his heart still pounding as he shrugs. “Hey, that’s what I’m here for,” he says, a bit softer than usual. His gaze lingers on you, feeling almost like he’s in a Halloween movie himself—just the two of you against the night, your friends’ laughter and screams filling the cool air around you.

A few yards away, Jay calls out breathlessly, “Alright, now that we’ve all survived... haunted house first?”

The group slowly circles back, shaking off the scare as they recover, everyone laughing at Sunghoon’s earlier bravado. Despite the spooky atmosphere and haunted music echoing from the park, you feel more excited than nervous now, especially standing close to Ni-ki.

He gives you a playful nudge as the group starts to huddle closer together to walk toward the haunted house. “Still feeling brave, or do I need to keep an eye out for any more clowns?”

You grin back at him, heart a little steadier now. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

“Well, I'm not complaining,” he says quietly, his smile lingering as you fall into step beside him, the two of you ready to face the night together.

As everyone steps out of the haunted house, the group’s laughter fills the night air. You’re still riding the thrill of the scares, and Ni-ki has fallen a little behind, watching as you get pulled right into a lighthearted argument between Jay and Sunoo about who screamed the loudest.

“Oh please,” you scoff, nudging Sunoo. “That last jump scare? You practically launched yourself into the wall.”

Sunoo tries to defend himself, but Jake cuts in, backing you up with a grin. “She’s right, dude. Pretty sure the people behind us got scared just from your yell.”

Everyone laughs, and you lean into the playful teasing like you’ve been part of their group for ages.

Ni-ki, a few steps behind, watches with a quiet smile. He realizes that the little things—like the way you laugh at Sunghoon's jokes or casually tease Heeseung about screaming louder than anyone—are what he loves most. Two months ago, he couldn’t even get you to talk about anything other than school, and now here you are, effortlessly blending in with the people he’s closest to.

The others don’t seem to treat you like an outsider anymore either; Sunoo and Jungwon have practically adopted you as a new sibling, and even Sunghoon, the most reserved, has warmed up, tossing you a playful smirk whenever he catches you flinching from the lurking scare actors.

And in that moment, watching you interact with his friends, Ni-ki feels a surge of something he can’t quite name. Part of it is relief, a part of it pride—but mostly, it’s this unfamiliar warmth, knowing that you’ve somehow found a place in his life and his friends’ lives too. It hits him just how much he wants you to stay.

Just as he’s caught up in his thoughts, and mostly admiring you, You turn from side to side, like you're looking for something. You turn behind you and lock eyes with Ni-ki. You smile, having found what you're looking for.

"What are you doing all the way back there?" You stop in your tracks, letting Ni-ki catch up to you. "Scared of the roller coaster?" You tease, Ni-ki scoffs, and shakes his head.

"No, I'm not as jumpy as you are."

"Yeah right, I saw you jump a hundred times already."

#ni-ki trying so hard to win this nonchalant challenge #No One Noticed 𓇼 ⋆｡˚ 𓆝⋆｡˚ 𓇼 #enhypen fluff #enha fluff #ni ki fluff #ni ki x reader #ni ki smau #enhypen smau #nishimura riki smau #nishimura riki fake texts #nishimura riki x reader #ni ki fake texts

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yootaesowlwrites · 1 year ago

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I Just Want One Tiny Taste - Eric Sohn

W/C: 3.4K

Note: Blank blogs will be blocked. I don’t trust y’all, so make sure you have your age in your bio/desc or something on your blog. Minors DNI.

Prompts: “How many times have you jerked off to me?” + “I just want one tiny taste…”

Warnings: Smut, explicit language, roommates, masturbation, nudism, nicknames, oral(female receiving), clit stimulation, fingering, nipple sucking, unprotected sex(reader’s on the pill), roommates to lovers, aftercare.

Age Warning: I will not take responsibility because you wanted to read this, but if you’re under the age of 18+, DO NOT INTERACT OR READ. Do not take this as educational, this is fiction!

You were lost in thought as you grab onto Eric’s door knob and push it open, you wanted to ask him something, but the thoughts quickly vanished from your thoughts once you saw him completely naked on his bed with his cock in his hand and his phone in the other. He pauses mid-stroke as his eyes widen, he wasn’t expecting you to just walk in on him like you did. You lick your lips before a smirk forms on your lips, and you begin to move forward.

“Caught being naughty,” You say. You reach his bed and take hold of his phone, snapping him out of his shocked state, you look at the phone and found a picture of you open in his photo's app. “How many times have you jerked off to me?”

“I… Uh, Y-Y/n, it’s n-not what yo-you think,” He stutters out, trying to reach for his phone, only for you to pull the device out of his reach and lock it, You look at him before placing his phone on the bedside table, feeling a surge of confidence course through you.

“You could have just asked if you needed inspiration to jerk off,” You say. He pulls his hand away from his cock, scrambling to try and find something on his bed that could cover him up. “I would have gladly agreed to be your muse,” You were absolutely calm on the outside, but your mind screamed at you to run away and feel embarrassed about the situation. “I mean… the real thing is better than a photo, right?” He pauses, and you grip the hem of your shirt and lift it over your head, dropping it to the floor, you then remove your bra and drop it right next to your shirt. “Don’t you agree, Youngjae?” He swallows, and you watch his Adam’s apple bobbing as he does. You weren’t sure where the fuck your sudden boost of confidence was coming from, you should be running out and hiding in shame at your actions.

“I… uh yes, I… yes,” He stutters out. He watches as you slide your hands over your breasts and down your stomach before curling your fingers around the waistband of your pants, his eyes widen as he watches you push your pants down along with your panties, he watches closely and intently as you step out of them before you take a few steps back and grab onto his desk chair and turn it to face the bed.

“Feeling more comfortable now that we’re both naked?” You ask as you sit down on the chair, spreading your legs slightly and giving him a perfect view of your pussy that was starting to grow wet. He was completely frozen, and you could feel your mind slowly catching up to you, maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. “Or should I leave?” He watches as you begin to close your legs, the view slowly disappearing from him when he snaps out of it.

“I, no!” He quickly says. “No, no, Fuck, no… don’t I… wasn’t expecting this,” You nod your head. “I just… this isn’t a dream, right?” You swallow as you now completely shut your legs and press your hands into your knees, building up the courage to stand up and making sure your legs wouldn’t give out on you when you ran for the door.

“No, no it’s not, this is very much real, and I’m starting to realize that I’m probably embarrassing myself in front of you right now,” You say. He quickly scrambles off the bed, falling to his knees and crawling towards you, his hands grip your knees, just below yours, and looks up at you with concern in his eyes, concern that you would get up and leave.

“No, no, why?” He asks. “Why do you feel like you are, because I can promise you that you’re totally not,” You were both naked, and he had a raging hard-on, and now he was holding onto your knees, his hold was burning your skin.

“For interrupting your private moment,” You say. “I should probably go,” You try to get up, only for him to firmly press down on your knees and slide his hands higher to have a better grip on you to keep you seated.

“Oh, no, no, please don’t go… fuck,” He says. “Unless you feel uncomfortable, and you chased your mind, but fuck, don’t go,” You watch him as he practically pleads you not to get up and leave his room. “I just… I just want one tiny taste…” You feel your muscles twitch and your insides twist at his words. “If you allow me… you can totally say no…” You take in a deep breath.

“Yes…” You breathe out. “You can have a taste,” You watch his eyes light up before his hands grip the crease of your hips, and he leans forward, his lips make contact with yours as he kisses you hotly, your eyes shut as you move your hand to the back of his head, twisting your fingers into his hair. His tongue swipes over your bottom lip, and you open your mouth to allow him access to explore your mouth, while his thumbs press against the crease of your thighs while his hand was squeezing the top of your thighs. Your other hand grabs onto his biceps and holds onto it, you could feel the temperature surrounding you shifting as the air became hot and heavy.

He pulls away from the kiss, causing strings of saliva to break off onto your chin as he does, but his lips were instantly on your jaw and kissing down your neck and over your collarbone before reaching the top of your breast, his tongue presses against your skin, and he licks a strip down to your nipple before taking the bud into his mouth.

“Ohh… fuck, Jae…” You breathe out, keeping your eyes closed as the pleasurable sensation goes through your body and builds up in your core. “Hmm…” One of his hands slides over the top of your thighs before it slips between them and pulls your legs apart, and moves his body between them to keep them spread for him. He slides his hand upwards and brushes the tips of his fingers against your folds, making you buck your hips forward. “Fuck, Jae…” He tugs on your nipple with his mouth, and you felt like he was tugging on the ball of tension that was growing inside you instead. You open your eyes and look down at him and saw him looking up at you as he was sucking on your nipple. “Fuck…” He releases your nipple and licks his lips.

“If I knew you were so willing to do this, I would have approached you weeks, no, months ago,” He says. His lips make contact with your stomach, and he kisses down and pauses right before he reaches your belly button. “I’ve wanted you… for months,” You could feel your stomach twisting at his words. “You want this, right?”

“For weeks now,” You mutter. You admit, that you found your roommate attractive when you first moved in, but once you got to know him some more, you quickly fell for him but decided to keep it all to yourself and only share it with your closest friends. “Fuck,” His fingers slide along your outer folds, causing a shiver to go up your spine.

“Are you saying I could have tasted you weeks ago and neither of us said a word?” He asks. You nod your head, and he lets out a chuckle as he drops his head. “Fuck, we’re idiots…” This time it was your turn to laugh, he looks up at you. “I guess better late than never,” He dips his head lower and his lips make contact with your inner thigh. “Let’s try and make up for the lost time,” His fingers slide between your folds, and you feel the pads of his fingers going towards your clit before circling around the bud.

“Ohh, fuck, oh, oh, Jae… shit,” You breathe out at the friction near your clit, your insides were twisting as you felt your pussy twitch at the attention it was suddenly getting, you could feel his hot breath near your pussy and his hair tickling the inside of your thighs, and fuck, it was making your mind spin. “Youngjae, fuck…” Your grip on his hair tightens, and you push your hand against it.

“So eager…” He mutters before his lips attach to one of your pussy lips and suck on it, your eyes shut, and you take in a deep breath. “Hmm,” You take your bottom lip between your teeth and bite down on it as the vibrations from his hum went through your pussy and towards the ball of pleasure inside you.

“Youngjae, hmm, oh, my fuck…” You moan, your lids twitch as your eyes move behind them, fuck, the feeling was sensational, sweat was starting to coat your skin, and you were starting to breathe in harder. “OH!” His finger slides over your clit and slowly rubs over the bundle of nerves. “Oh, my…” His other hand pulls away from your hip and feel his breathing becoming deeper against your skin. “Fuck… are you touching yourself?” He pulls at your pussy lip before releasing it.

“Fuck, yes,” He breathes out, your pussy clenches at the thought of his hand sliding along his cock, pleasing himself while making you feel good, “I’m so fucking hard, I need to try and take care of it,” You hear a squelching sound, and it definitely didn’t come from you.

“Fuck, Youngjae, that… is so hot,” You moan. His fingers slide down from your clit, and you feel a digit poking at your slit, his lips push right against your clit, and you could feel his breathing right against the nub.

“I wanna cum inside you…” He mutters, his voice travels through your clit, and you swear you could feel your own juices leaking from you at the words. “So please don’t take too long to get wet enough for me, baby,” Your back arches as you feel his lips wrapping around your clit while at the same time a digit slips into you, you throw your head back and your jaw slacks.

“OHHH!” You loudly moan, your hand on his biceps squeezing down at the sudden jolt of pleasure that goes through your veins, his nose was rubbing against your mound as his lips were wrapped around your clit, his finger curls inside you once it was completely inside you. “FUCK, JAE!” Your chest heaves up and down as you take in deep, rapid breaths. “Oh, my fucking…” Your heart drummed loudly in your ears.

“Hmm… hmm… hmm,” He moans against your clit, and with each moan you could feel the ball of pleasure inside you growing bigger and bigger, and your juices only getting slicker as it grew. A second digit slips into you, and you feel a light stretch in your walls as his fingers pump in and out of you.

“Fuck, I… Jae…” You moan as your head turns from side to side, pleasure fogging up your mind. “I…” His fingers curl inside you, and you feel a shiver go through your spine, your toes curl into his carpet floor and your muscles tighten. “Jae… Jae, I’m…” A third digit slips into you, stretching your walls even more. “Oohhh,” He releases your clit and licks a slow thick stripe over your clit, the friction making your legs shake as the rough texture of his tongue glides over your clit. “FUCK!” You sit up straight as the ball of pleasure inside you come undone, his fingers rapidly pump in and out of you to ease you through your high and make sure your walls were stretched enough for him. Stars danced behind your lids and your mind floated through the clouds and your legs shake from the pleasure.

“Hmm, so good,” He breathes against your pussy, making you push your hand harder down against the back of his head. “You’re so needy and desperate for more,” His tongue flicks over your clit, causing your back to arch. “Let me get you on the bed first,” You feel him place his wet hands on your hip and your shoulder before helping you up.

“Fuck, Jae, your cum on me… fuck,” You whimper out as he guides you towards the bed. He carefully lays you down and makes sure you're in the middle of the bed before he climbs on between your legs, pushing them wide open for him and giving himself the perfect view of your needy, glistening pussy.

“Fuck, you’re just… everything,” He says as his eyes slowly move up along your body, taking in everything about you, every little detail he was able to spot, one of these days he will explore your entire being to find which spots gave you the most pleasure and which ones he should avoid. “I need you now…” You were barely coming down from your high when you felt your hips being lifted and a fluffy pillow being placed underneath your butt. You lift your head and look at him through half-open lids. Sweat coated his chest and his hair was stuck to his forehead, a sight that made your walls clench and your insides twist together.

“Fuck… you…” You mutter and drop your head down onto the bed. You feel his legs touch the inside of your thighs and moments later you feel his cock brush against your folds before they push between them and slide up and down along your pussy.

“Fuck, so hot… and wet,” He mutters and moves himself towards your entrance. He places one hand on your hip and pushes the head into you, your jaw slacks as you feel him slowly stretching your walls and filling you. “Ohh, o-ohh,” He places his other hand on your hip as well and slowly pushes his hips forward to fill you.

“F-fuck, Youn-Youngjae…” You moan, your lids flutter as you feel your pussy slowly being stuffed by him. “F-fuck, I… you, hmm,” His fingers press into your skin, and you reach up and grip onto his bedding, twisting the fabric between your fingers. “Ohh…”

“Fuck, you… feel so good,” He grunts out, feeling your walls squeezing around him the further he sinks into you. “Taking me so good,” He thrusts his hips forward, swiftly filling you and causing your tits to bounce as he does.

“Oh!” You gasp at the sudden movement and turn your head to the side. “Jaaaeee…” You feel your muscles tightening as he slowly begins to slide out of you already. “Fuck, fuck, I… shit,” Your eyes roll to the back of your head as your head turns to the other side. The sound of your wetness quickly fills the room as he finds a pace fast enough for him yet slow enough.

“Fuck, I don’t… think I’m gonna… last long,” He says between gasps. He slides his hands along your sides and over your breasts before over your upper arms and along your forearms, you release the bedding as his hands reach yours and grab onto them, interlocking your fingers with his. “Fuck, yes,” His stomach brushed against yours with every thrust, and you swear that you could feel his muscles tightening as he does. He pulls your hands until they’re next to your head and pushes them into the bed.

“Hmm, I… we should have, oh, fuck… done this a long time ago-ooohh,” You moan. His lips make contact with your collarbone and moments later you feel him starting to suck on the skin there. “Oh, fuck…” You squeeze his hands, the feeling of his hearing his loud hot breath so close to your ear and feeling his lips suck a mark into your skin was adding to the feeling of your high building inside you. “Youngjae…” You feel your legs starting to shake as your toes begin to curl, you decide to lift one leg and wrap it around and feel his cock slide in just a little deeper. “FUCK!”

“Fuck, you’re squeezing me so good,” He mutters as he pulls away from the mark he was creating. “Fuck, you’re milking me, I’m…” You could hear a strain in his voice as he spoke. “F-fuck…” You could feel his hips stuttering for a second. “I’m…”

“Fuck, let me rub my clit,” You say. He releases one of your hands, and you immediately move your arm between your bodies, you feel his stomach rubbing more against your arm and felt his muscles pulling against your arm. “Fuck, you’re close…” You press your fingers against your clit and begin rubbing the bundle of nerves, he picks up on your breathing picking up before he felt your walls pulse around him.

“FUCK!” He loudly moans, your walls clench as the sound was so close to your ear. His pace picks up as he begins chasing after his high, his mind was spinning as he felt a heartbeat right in the head of his cock and knew he had to get it out. “Fuck, fuck, are y-you close?”

“Hmm,” You whimper out and push your head into the mattress as you feel your muscles tighten, and the knot inside you grow at a rapid pace. “Jae… YoungjAAEE!” Your back arches as the ball of pleasure inside you comes undone and pleasure courses through your body, your eyes shut and stars fly past your vision.

“Fuck, fuck, shit, I…” He mutters before his hips harshly snap forward, his body shakes on top of yours as hot ropes of cum spill into you, his hand squeezes your hand as his other hand grips the bedding and pulls at it. “FUCK, fuck, so good, shit…”

“Jae, Jae, fuck,” You chant out as your mind floats through the clouds, your body felt light as it was going through the ecstasy feeling. “Oh, my… fucking…” His hips rock into yours as he eases himself through his high, you pull your fingers away from your clit and move your hand to his side. “What if I sucked you off right now?” His hips buck forwards, your words making his mind spin even more, before he lifts his head to look at you.

“Fuck… you can’t say shit like that,” He says. You open your eyes to look at him, he could see satisfaction in your eyes with a hint of mischief in them. “Fuck, Y/n…”

“And what if I’m not joking?” You whisper. He sits on his knees and looks down at you, your skin glistened with sweat and your chest was heaving up and down. “What if I do that?”

“I would lose my absolutely damn mind,” He breathes out. Beads of sweat rolls down his chest and he was breathing heavily, his ears were red, and his eyes held a mixture between lust and warmth in them. “Another time… another time, fuck, it’s so tempting to see if you actually would, but another time…” He pulls his cock from you and watches as his cum and yours spill from your sopping hole and onto his bedding. “Let me take care of you now… you took care of my problem, let me take care of you,” You drop your leg from his waist and drop your hands onto the bed. “Are you okay… was this okay?” His tone suddenly softer.

“Hmm,” You say as you nod your head. “It was… it was more than okay,” He nods his head and slides his hand along your inner thigh, making you feel how much your juices had splattered from his thrusts.

“Let’s go take a shower, and then order some delivery,” He says. You sit upright and grab onto his shoulders, stopping him from getting up.

“What are we, Youngjae?” You softly ask. His expression softens slightly and he leans closer. “I don’t… want to be a one-time thing,” He squeezes your inner thigh, making you whimper at the feeling.

“Well… I would very much like for you to be mine,” He says. “To be with me, so we can do this a lot more often, and so I can call you mine…” You softly smile and lean in a little closer.

“Then say those magic words, Youngjae…” You whisper, your noses touch and your lips were so close to touching.

“Will you be mine, Y/n?”

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bokettochild · 12 days ago

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Hey, Uncle Anon again--Okay but say this happens after Yuga attacks...the image of his uncle seeing that hey, someone is home, and meeting Ravio.

Does Ravio have his hood up? Is there any recognition there? Does Ravio know his Lorule counterpart, has he heard the story from Legend? It could go So Many Ways. Ranging from 'awkward' to 'sorry-not-sorry, Mr. Hero, but it was instinct to hit him with the nearest chair'.

Okay, this ask actually inspired me a bit, and this is only part of a bigger project, but have it anyways!

The cottage hadn’t changed a bit. Standing on the path, apple trees shivering in a slight breeze, he’d almost felt a decade younger, almost tricked himself into thinking he’d need only open the old wood door, the door whose key still sat heavy in his pocket, and a bright little face would whip around to meet him, gap-toothed grin his welcome home as feet would pit-patter across the worn out floors. Maybe it was that image that tricked his feet into walking, following a path altered only by shade of trees grown taller in his absence, their fruit hanging heavy but not yet ready to be plucked. It’d be cider making season soon, he’d mused to himself, hand digging through his pocket for a key he couldn’t name why he still carried. Absently, he wondered if the old press was still down in the basement, if Link- because it must be Link- had minded to keep it oiled and tended, or if he’d left off using it. After all, the former knight chuckled, the boy couldn’t even turn the handle fully on his own, now could he? His mind had been so caught in his thoughts he hadn’t been minding his surroundings, pushing the door open after a moment’s struggle (the key stuck more than it once used to) and moving to enter his old home. He hadn’t expected to be immediately whacked over the head, nor, when he’d picked himself up again, to find himself face to… face(?) with a masked figure. “We aren’t open!” The purple clad individual had declared, mallet in hand, and a small creature with wings- which could in no ways be considered a bird- fluttering about at his shoulders, squawking and hissing something terrible. “And if you thought you could break in, you’re dead wrong!” Aflon had blinked, slowly, and then started, gaze flying about the house briefly. It wasn’t changed, not really. Pictures were all taken down and boxes were tucked against the walls, but the couch, the rocking chair, the china cabinet, it was all still there, still in the same places, now with new stains and scuffs, but he could recognize them all the same. Really, the only major difference was the desk near the door scattered over with glittering items and objects, little price tags set before them in poor mimicry of a shop. He wasn’t sure if the purple clad figure was meant to be here or not, but given that the house still technically belonged to him, he’d been more than slightly caught off guard. “I’m not here for a shop, I- who are you?” “Who are you?” The apparent merchant had demanded in answer, face shielded behind a hood that looked like it was meant to resemble a very, very odd face. “And why are you here?” Their voice was trembling slightly, but they stood firm despite. “I live- or, well…” he’d paused, picking himself up and dusting himself off, “I used to live here. This was my house- still is actually, I’ve just been away.” Despite not being able to see the merchant’s eyes, he could feel the apprehension in their gaze, weighty as it was as they looked up at him, one hand on their hip and the other holding fast to their oversized mallet. “You must have the wrong house, this one belongs to Mister Hero.” Oh. “You mean Link?” “You know him?” Their head cocked on one side, hood following with a flap of long ear-like attachments. Aflon had nodded briefly. “Do you?” “Of course!” And suddenly the mallet was gone, the figure gesturing about with a cheery chirp now entering their tone. “He’s my housemate! Lets me stay here, keep up the shop while he’s gone and all that lovely sort of thing. Didn’t realize he had a landlord himself though! So terribly sorry if he’s been stiffing you on rent, he’s been out of town for forever now, you see.” He’d nodded. He hadn’t known what better to do. The stranger had introduced themselves as Ravio, offered to show him their wares, but when asked about Link had firmly insisted that he knew nothing more than that the hero was off on some mission for the crown or something and that he was just keeping the house in order for him.

#uncle aflon #asks and answers #linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu ravio #lu legend #ketto writes

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amiserableseriesofevents · 4 months ago

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acceptance - muse a kisses muse b’s forehead and lingers for Clegan ? 🥺❤️

Hi! ♥️

Some fluff set in the Such Stuff universe for you 🥰✨

John looks at the list on his phone one more time: ID, phone charger, one of Buck's books, eight clean shirts, two pairs of short sweatpants, underwear, socks, a spare pair of jeans, a camera, a notebook, toothbrush and toothpaste, a comb, his trusted razor. For the body wash and shampoo, he'd debated whether to steal some of Buck's, but he'd like to still have a place to stay once he's back.

“All done?” The man in question asks him from where he's looming, leaning against the open door of their bedroom. He's feigning nonchalance but by now John's fully able to read him like an open book; the subtle crease of his brow and the glint of sadness in his eyes are enough to make him sigh as he zips his backpack closed. He still has less than half an hour before he has to go and pick up the others, and then they'll be off for a week touring with their new show, a shortened rendition of The Odyssey.

John would lie if he said he's not excited about it, it's the first show they're touring with since The Tempest; it's also the first time he's leaving to go on tour since moving in with Buck, and that's the not so great part of it. They are so used at having the other around all the time, at coexisting in the same space, at never going to sleep alone; and now John is leaving, even if not for long, and he knows the distance will be a little harder this time.

So he walks up to Buck, who's still stubbornly staring at the void in front of him, and tucks a finger under his chin to tilt his head up. “It's only a week,” he says softly. “I'll be back before you even notice.”

Buck tenses, then lets go. “I am already noticing,” he says, a huge fucking confession from one like him. “There's no beer in the fridge and no socks scattered around in our room. And you stole my book,” he adds, looking pointedly at his now empty bedside table.

“I thought you didn't like beer and having to pick up my dirty socks,” John tries with half a smile.

“It's better than spending a whole week by myself,” Buck answers, then he sighs and brings his hands up to his face, rubbing at it. “I'm sorry, I don't know what's gotten into me. You're working, I know, you're not going on vacation without me. I shouldn't be here complaining like a child.”

John drops his backpack to the floor to hold his boyfriend properly, enveloping him in his strong arms until he can rest his cheek on the side of Buck's head; he feels him tense for a moment, almost resisting the hug, but then Buck melts into it, nuzzling his face in the curve of John's neck, breathing deeply as if to store the smell of him in his nose for the days to come. His arms snake behind John's back, hands clutching at the soft fabric of his sweatshirt to hold him there.

It's been a harsh period on Buck, John knows it very well. Now that he's not a substitute teacher anymore he earns more money and can be more relaxed about his financial stability but he also works a lot more, and now that the winter break is approaching there hasn't been a single day in the past two or three weeks where he didn't have lessons to prepare, tests and essays to grade, parents-teachers meetings to attend to – it's also the reason why he can't join John on these dates in Michigan, despite his tries.

“It's ok, love. You're just working too much,” he reassures him, petting his hair.

“I barely even have the time to take shifts at the Abbotts,” Buck responds, voice muffled by John's skin.

“But your students love you, algebra is doing well thanks to you, and the drama club is fire this year.”

“They are pretty good,” Buck admits making John smile. “I just can't wait for these two weeks to end. I'll be better in January, after I get some rest.”

“I know. Here's what we're gonna do: you're going to survive this week, I'll be sending you math puns and stupid pictures every day like I'm not even gone. Then when I'm back I'm going to take care of you for the remaining week, cleaning the house and cooking all your favorite foods, listening to your rants and cuddling you whenever you need it. Then, for Christmas, we're going to relax at my uncle's cabin just like we planned, and when I say relax I mean I'm not going to let you leave the bed for three days.”

“I don't know that I'm capable of sleeping that much,” Buck comments, a smile clear in his voice.

“And who said anything about sleeping?”

Before the playful teasing can continue though, the alarm on John's phone starts buzzing and he's forced to disentangle himself from the hug to shut it off.

“I have to go,” he says apologetically. Buck still looks like a kicked puppy, but there's more color on his cheeks and the faintest spark in the deep blue of his eyes – it can be enough, for now.

“Did you grab the instant ice?” He asks.

“Ah, fuck. No, I forgot. Don't worry, I'm gonna stop at the supermarket when we get there and-”

“I got you three packs,” Buck shuts him up, this time with a small smile on his lips. “Somehow I knew you were going to forget it.”

John plants a kiss on his lips in response. “That's about the millionth reason why I love you, Buck,” he tells him, making him blush, then he picks up the backpack and follows Buck to the kitchen where he's stored the medical supplies. Then it's really time for him to go, or he'll be late and Crosby will be insufferable.

Buck walks him to the door. John shoots a text to Brady to tell him to meet him at the car, then turns to his boyfriend one last time. “I'll call you when we get there,” he says, leaning to give him one more kiss.

“Be safe. I love you,” Buck tells him, so softly it makes John's heart flutter in his chest. He kisses Buck's forehead in response, lingers there inhaling the familiar smell of his shampoo. “I love you too,” he says, punctuates it with another kiss.

In all his years spent traveling around the country with this show or that one, he's never once felt such a pull to return to one specific place, not even to his parents's house in Wisconsin. He's never felt, John realizes as he watches Buck disappear behind the closing doors of the elevator, at home.

It fills his heart with love, and such tender nostalgia; now he knows how Odysseus felt on his long journey to Ithaca. Lucky for him, a week is bound to pass much quicker than ten years.

#writing prompts #answered ask #buck x bucky #clegan theatre au #clegan #john egan #gale cleven #mota #buckbucky

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campingwiththecharmings · 11 months ago

Text

tagged by @soft-girl-musings ❤️ ty, this was super fun! tagging whoever wants to do this (please tag me in your posts!!!!)

1. Type your name followed by core into pinterest and paste the first pic. 2. Refresh your pinterest homepage and paste the first person. 3. Refresh your pinterest homepage and paste a random aesthetic picture. 4. Write a little story :)

(Please be gentle, I have not actually seen Dune, tho I did read a little of the novel, and am basing this characterization on my very limited exposure to Leto lol)

Dune Modern AU (I guess??) - Leto Atreides x F!Reader | (1,840 words) | Not proofread

AN: i...might've gone a bit overboard with this lmaooo. i blame oscar. 🫣

Warnings: murder, allusions to SA, probably a tad stockholm syndrome-y (lol), vague smut, some angst.

---

You struggle against the crewman's tight hold on your wrists, knowing that even if you were to break free, you'd have no where to escape to. Your ship had been attacked and boarded that morning by pirates, after which you, along with a handful of others, had been left to die on your pillaged ship.

When a ship flying the flag of Caladan had happened upon you, you'd been relieved, over the moon, even. That is, until they'd boarded and killed everyone left alive save for you. You should've known something was off as soon as they stepped onto the deck, their uniforms filthy and unkempt. But you'd been so desperate, had wanted to believe so badly that you were being rescued.

You don't know where he's taking you now, but given the lecherous look he'd given you just before grabbing you, you can take a guess.

Hopefully he'll at least have the decency to kill you once he's finished.

You growl as the man pushes open the door at the end of the hall, dragging you swiftly behind him. He throws you into a chair and looms over you, caging you in with a hand on either armrest.

"Feisty, aren't we?" he says, his dark eyes cold and cruel. "I like the feisty ones."

You stare him down with a glare, determined to not let this man take the only thing you have left: your dignity. He smirks at you and leans in, but it halted by the sound of the door opening.

"I'll take it from here, Yueh."

You watch as the man's lip curls slightly, annoyed at being interrupted. Nevertheless, he stands, schooling his face into an indifferent mask and turning toward the newcomer.

"Of course, Captain."

The crewman leaves, closing the door behind him with a loud "thwack," leaving you alone with this new man, apparently the captain.

You study him, noting that his uniform is in far better condition than that of his subordinates. Even his knee-high boots have been polished to a shine. You drag your eyes up his torso, then his chest, your eyes snagging on the insignia pinned over his left breast pocket. It looks familiar, but you can't seem to immediately place it. You allow your eyes to continue their journey, sliding up his neck, over his graying beard and stately nose, until you meet his eyes.

They're a warm, deep brown with a gentleness in them you are not accustomed to seeing in men (especially those in authority). He smiles at you apologetically, knowing he is at least partially responsible for the terror you've endured.

"Are you alright?" he asks, his voice soft and gentle, just like his eyes.

Inexplicably, the facade you've erected to make yourself seem unaffected by all of this crumbles at his question. No, you are absolutely not alright. In less than a week you've been attacked by pirates, had all of your possessions either taken or destroyed, and have watched almost every person you care for die. Tears well in your eyes and you're helpless to stop them from falling.

Embarrassed, you hide your face in your hands, silently sobbing into your palms. You flinch when you feel a hand on your shoulder. Was he...comforting you? You look up, his eyes radiating sadness and, dare you say, compassion?

He hugs you then, gently pulling you against his chest and wrapping an arm around your shoulders. He murmurs soothing words, promises to keep you safe, tells you you'll never have to live in fear again so long as he is with you. .

And you believe him, God help you.

He asks you to call him Leto despite clearly holding some kind of title. It feels odd to be so informal, but you do as he asks. He does not appear to have much trust in his crewmen, namely the group who'd boarded your ship. As a result of this, he is reluctant to let you out of his sight, so you spend most of your time with him. He does most of the talking, telling you of his beloved homeland Caladan, of his son Paul...of his late wife, Jessica. When you are ready, you do the same, telling him about where you grew up, of your parents, of your desire to see the world.

It's not until a few weeks later that you realize you're falling in love with him.

You do your best to hide it but he seems to sense the shift in you. The night before you are expected to return to Caladan, he finally asks what's troubling you. As when you'd met him that first day, his eyes are what get to you, the gentle kindness and patience in them like a balm to your soul.

"I...I think I'm in love with you," you admit, sure he doesn't feel the same.

But he surprises you yet again.

"I love you too, my darling," he rasps, leaning in to press his lips against yours.

He makes love to you until the sun rises, his movements gentle yet still passionate. His fingers tangle with yours when he pins you to the bed, making you come over and over, you body shaking with pleasure as he smothers your moans with his kiss.

He asks you to marry him in the afterglow, his head nestled between your breasts as you comb your fingers through his soft hair. You tell him you will and he looks up at you with a smile, sitting up so he can steal another kiss from your lips.

There is a commotion on deck as soon as the ship docks and it takes Leto a moment to realize it's not the usual flurry of activity that usually comes with a return to land. Sensing something nefarious, he tells you to escape through the window in his quarters. You don't want to leave him, flat out refuse to, in fact, but he convinces you yet again with his gentle, earnest eyes.

"I need to know you're safe," he says, taking your hands in his. "I'll find you, I promise."

You wait for him at an inn a few blocks from the docks but he never shows. You don't sleep, you can't, too worried about Leto and what might've happened to him. At the first sign of dawn, you leave the inn, returning to the docks in search of your Leto.

His ship is gone, the slip where it had been empty, and your heart sinks. Had it all been a trick? A game? A way to pass the time while at sea? Had he even really loved you or had he just told you that so you'd warm his bed?

You consider asking the harbormaster if they know what happened but...what would be the point? You know all you need to know: Leto is gone, has left you here alone, despite his promises to protect you, to love you, to marry you.

You do your best not to break down, to not give in to the crushing weight of your broken heart. Using the last of your coin, you decide to stay another night at the inn Leto had told you about, and in the morning, you convince them to hire you as a housekeeper in exchange for a bed and a meager salary. You work there for months, saving every penny you can for passage back to your homeland.

The night before you're set to leave, he finds you.

Leto.

"What are you doing here?" you ask, crossing your arms defensively over your chest.

He's disheveled, almost haggard, and much skinnier than you recall. You wonder briefly if he's been ill but quickly decide it doesn't matter--he left you, fooled you into thinking he loved you.

"I'm so sorry it took me so long," he rasps, his voice strained, as if he'd been screaming for hours.

You scoff, doing your best to avoid looking him directly in the eyes. That's how he always got you, manipulated you.

"It's too late, Leto. I'm leaving in the morning," you tell him, turning away to fiddle with your already-packed bag.

"Will you at least let me explain?" he pleads, shuffling closer.

You sigh, shaking your head. You tell yourself no, that you don't owe him anything, that he doesn't deserve a chance to explain himself...but you can't help but be curious.

Without looking at him, you nod, bracing your palms on the dresser before you.

He thanks you, taking a moment to collect his thoughts before he dives right in. He's been in jail, he claims, was locked up as soon as he stepped foot on land. Evidently, there was a mutiny and some of his crewmen, led by Yueh, had framed him by planting an illegal drug called Spice on board the ship. As soon as it had docked, the mutineers had sent an anonymous tip to the authorities and, as the Captain, Leto was arrested and thrown in jail. Unable to prove his innocence, he'd had no choice but to serve his time.

The story sounds plausible, and you're almost inclined to believe him but....you just can't. Your heart wasn't just broken by him, it was shattered. Irreparably, you think. Even if what he claims happened is true, you can't see how you could ever trust him again. Not after everything you've been through. You tell him as much, back still turned to him. After a beat of silence, you hear him shift closer, feel his warmth against your back, your eyes falling shut as he presses a gentle kiss against the base of your neck. You swallow a whimper, inhaling shakily when he runs his knuckle down the back of your arm.

"Please look at me, my darling," he pleads, voice thick with emotion. "Just one more time."

Hesitantly, you turn and your heart breaks a little more at the pain and desperation in his eyes. He smiles, taking your hand in his and gently squeezing it. Your eyes well with tears, one escaping and sliding down your cheek, and your curse yourself for your weakness. Using his free hand, he swipes the tear away, his touch lingering on your face.

You're not sure who moves first, but suddenly his lips are on yours, and a fire ignites in your chest. More tears slide down your face as you kiss him back, your arms winding around his neck as he hoists you up to sit on the dresser. The action knocks your bag to the floor with a dull thud, but you can't bring yourself to care as Leto licks into your mouth, his tongue hot as it slides against yours.

When he finally thrusts inside you, it feels like coming home. Suddenly you feel safe again, you feel at peace.

In the end, he travels with you back to your homeland. Slowly, the trust that was broken is rebuilt and before you realize what's happening, you allow the love you have for one another to heal your shattered hearts.

#leto atreides x reader #duke leto atreides x reader #my fic #i guess lol #bro i had wayyyyy too much fun with this omg #evidently my brain doesn't know what a 'little story' is a;sds;ldfk lmao

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wheels-of-despair · 7 months ago

Text

Live A Little | A Worth It AU | Ralph Penbury x You | Masterlist

In This Edition: You and Ralph venture out of your cabin! Words: 1.3k

You wake to the sound of angry whispers.

"It's not proper!"

"Those kids have been through Hell together!"

"They're not married!"

Ralph's eyes open. You hold your breath and listen closely, watching each other beneath the covers and not daring to move a muscle.

"And?"

"And it's despicable! Having to share a room with… with…"

"With my niece, and the boy who saved her life?"

"I thought you said his sister was on board! Send him there, or back to the lounge!"

"My girl wouldn't leave that boy to get on a boat and save her own life, and you think she's going to let him go because you said so?"

A proud smile spreads across your face. You knew Aunt Molly would always be on your side.

"Ugh!" The other woman groans in frustration, and you hear the door open.

"If you think for one minute that I'm--" Molly shuts the door, and your eavesdropping is abruptly cut off.

"She's got it wrong," Ralph whispers. "You're the one who saved me."

"Aunt Molly is never wrong," you smile.

"Then perhaps we'll have to agree to disagree."

"That won't do," you argue, reaching out to cup the side of his face. "Because we saved each other."

You're already close, but you both move your faces forward just a tiny bit for a kiss.

The door closes again.

"Food's here, kids! I let you sleep through dinner last night, but I draw the line at missing breakfast."

Aunt Molly sits on her bed and tells you about how the other survivors are being treated by the generous crew and passengers of the Carpathia while you eat, but you find it hard to concentrate. You do notice that she makes no mention of the argument with her roommate… whose few possessions have disappeared.

Molly leaves again when you've finished eating, and you and Ralph return to bed. You've never been so exhausted in your life. You're grateful for your tiny bed, and the boy you're sharing it with.

There are no windows in your cabin. The only marker of time is whispered words on well-timed bouts of consciousness with Ralph. You remember getting up to eat once more, and to visit the lavatory. You have a vague memory of Molly suggesting that you switch beds, now that Hettie had found other accommodations, and guiding you and Ralph to the slightly larger mattress.

You'd continue to sleep inches apart anyhow.

"Should we go find Victoria?" you ask, during one of those rare occasions you're both awake at the same time.

"No," Ralph sighs. "I don't want to see her."

"I don't want to see anyone but you," you breathe.

"Likewise," he says.

And then you both drift off again.

"I can't stop dreaming about it," Ralph admits another time.

You know exactly what he's talking about. It haunts you too.

"What would you like to dream about?" you ask.

"You," he answers.

"Perhaps if we concentrate on happier things, we'll dream about them?"

"It's worth a try," Ralph sighs. "I want to see snow. Real snow, not just a flurry. I want to be in a warm house, with you, looking out the window at the falling snow. At Christmastime."

"That sounds wonderful," you smile, closing your eyes and trying to picture it. "I'll make us hot cocoa... we can bake cookies… maybe it'll be so hot, we'll have to take our clothes off…"

"Mm…" Ralph hums.

You both drift off again, hoping to experience the romantic scene you've set instead of the horrifying vision of the sea swallowing an unsinkable ship.

It's not until after dinner, delivered by Molly, that you feel truly awake again. Your aches have subsided. Your brain isn't foggy anymore. Your body still wants to remain in bed, however, so you lie there on your back next to Ralph, looking at the ceiling.

"I think I'll enjoy being on solid ground again," you muse.

Ralph doesn't respond. You turn your head to see a worried expression on his face.

"Ralph? Are you alright?"

"Do you still want to marry me?

His question makes your heart stop. Is he having second thoughts? You turn your gaze back to the ceiling, rather than stare at him in fear.

"Of course I do, Ralph. Do you still want to marry me?"

"Absolutely, but… do you think your parents will allow it?"

"I'd like to see them try and stop us," you respond without even having to think about it.

Ralph looks taken aback by your comment.

"I love you, Ralph Penbury," you smile, squeezing his hand and gazing at him in adoration. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Whether it's an hour or a lifetime, I want it to be with you. And I don't give a damn what anyone else has to say about it."

Ralph's eyes begin to water. He leans over for a kiss. It starts sweet, but soon turns desperate. Passionate. Something you haven't felt up to in days.

"I'm so happy I met you," he breathes.

"So am I," you smile, cupping his jaw and staring into his beautiful eyes. You can't imagine spending another day without him.

"Let's do it," you suggest.

"Do what?"

"Let's get married."

"Have we not just established we're going to?" he asks.

"Now."

"Now?"

"Let's get married now," you clarify. "They can't object if it's already done."

"Do you mean it?"

You nod.

"But… weddings take months to plan."

"Do you want to wait months, Ralph?"

His brow furrows, and you can see him weighing his options.

"You'd be willing to forego the dress, and the flowers, and the church? Your family being present? All those traditions? For me?"

"I don't need any of that, Ralph," you smile. "All I need is you."

"Are you sure?"

"Ralph, please don't think that I'm trying to pressure you into this. We don't have to do this if you don't want to. We're both tired and hazy still. If you want to--"

"No," he interrupts. "Are you sure you want me?"

The unsure look on his face pains you. How can he not see that he's your entire world? You lean forward for a deep kiss.

"Now who's mad?" you ask, pulling back with a smile. You cradle his face in your hands. "Of course I want you, Ralph. You're the only one I've ever wanted. And I'll still want you tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that. We don't have to do this now, if you're not ready. I'll wait forever for you."

Ralph stares at you for a moment, then laughs.

"I love you," he says, leaning over to pepper your face with kisses.

"I love you too, Ralph," you giggle, lying helplessly under his attack.

"Well, my love, shall we find ourselves a minister?" he asks when he finishes.

You grin and roll out of bed. You visit the lavatories and fix yourselves up the best you can, and set off in search of a holy man. A steward directs you to the person you're looking for.

You had no idea a wedding could happen so quickly. All the ones you'd attended back home had taken months to plan, like Ralph said. Hundreds of guests, many of whom the bride and groom probably didn't even like. Thousands spent on venues and decorations and dinner for hundreds. So much commotion, the people it was for barely had time to speak to each other.

And then there was this. A quiet ceremony in a dark corner of a ship's library, days after an event that would surely be one for the history books. In the clothes you'd been wearing for days. No fanfare at all; just you, the man you love, and the man reading scripture who would happily sign the necessary papers for a young couple who chose love in the face of tragedy.

It was perfect.

#writings of despair #ralphtanic #ralph penbury #ralph penbury x you #ralph penbury x reader #ralph timewasters

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senka-mesecine · 2 months ago

Note

This may sound weird but I live for Barnes tormenting Chris, could you maybe write something where Barnes is interested in Chris’ s/o other? I think Barnes is def a woman stealer in a “I’m a superior man and can and will win/take your woman from you”

Fire Eater.

Chris Taylor x Indirect!Reader x Robert Barnes.

In the grand scheme of things, Barnes believed that to the victor go the spoils.

It was a notion as old as time itself --- the stronger man gets the land, the resources, the guns, the buildings, the women, so he tended not to see this as homewrecking. Rather, he tended to see it as an act of providence. Things being the way they were supposed to be. Not that he enjoyed being a fucking philosopher, the basic truths of life were just as straight as that, with him or without him.

He just so happened to be here to enforce them if they needed enforcing.

The Taylor boy wasn't grown up enough to keep his boot laces in check most days least of all you, so if someone happened to swoop in and take him from you it was really his own doing for not protecting his own not anyone else's. This is an idea Bob muses on, holding your picture between his thumb and his index finger the same way he would've done to a cigar, waiting for Taylor and knowing fully well the boy's gonna run into him holding you. Just as anticipated, he does, never expecting to find him there. -"See, ya'll volunteered for this war."- Barnes allows himself to quip, speaking in plural as if there was more than one person next to Chris once the kid barges into him in the bunker in the dark. -"Ain' nobody drafted'ya."- He drawls leisurely, moving from where he was leaning on, on a wooden pillar holding the underground bunker up, right next to the boy's bunk through which he rummaged through to find you in the first place. -"Ain' nobody called'ya out here."- Bob allows himself to cock his head to one side, strolling at a relaxed pace, doing circles around the circumference of the bunker and by extension, doing ecliptical rounds around Taylor who was watching, observing his fingers tapping your picture, too stunned for words. Cat got his tongue, apparently. -"You came here all on your own, thinkin' 'bout makin' some sort of grand ol' statement or other."- Bob remarks, halting in front of the boy. Face to face. Pulling out a cigarette from the pocket of his cargo pants along with a catch and deciding to light one, taking his sweet time too.

-"Left this lil' angel all by her lonesome."-

Bob taps his finger on the surface of the picture once more once the cigarette's lit and safely lodged between his lips, blowing the smoke in Taylor's general direction, to add final insult to injury. Part of him hoped the boy would snap and try to take back what's his but the fact he didn't only made him respect him even less. Pretty girls needed real men; not green-nosed, green-boned children with delusions of grandeur. If he ever rotated back into the World, Barnes had a clear image whose door he'd knock on first in ways he didn't before Taylor joined this platoon and gave him the rare inspiration.

-"Hey, motherfucker, give that back."-

Taylor demands, extending his hand with one set of fingers coiled into a fist like he was about to get confrontational, further shocked by Bob pressing the polaroid against the burning filter of his cigarette without warning, leaving a searing spot stark in the middle of your face and holding you close until the edge of your picture lit up in flames.

-"Now I'm makin' a statement too, boy."-

He mocks and chides, scrunching your image in his bare hands, flames caressing the palms of his hands, setting aside his cigarette for a moment and opening his mouth to receive the crumple of ash and fire, placing it on his tongue and swallowing, never taking his eyes off of Taylor. With one dedicated gulp, he quite literally swallows your picture. If there was ever to be a declaration of war over the boy throwing in his side with Elias, this was it. Barnes simply walks past a wide-eyed, befuddled seeming Taylor, as if their conversation consisted of nothing weightier than the daily weather conditions.

-"If you want her you'll be needin' to carve her outta my gut."-

Is the last thing Barnes decides to say, climbing up to the surface from the Underworld.

He would have you.

Was just a matter of time when.

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2nd2ndalto · 23 days ago

Text

what if there were two (side by side in orbit)

***NB there are two parts to this chapter since it was too big for one Tumblr post!!***

I started writing this fic a year ago to the day!! It's hard to fathom. And it's still not done! Haha, sob.

TW for Luke being a huge dick. In canon, I don’t have particularly strong feelings about Luke & I feel there’s a lot of potential nuance to his character. But for my X-Files purposes, I just needed a bad guy. My apologies to any Luke stans.

Chapter 6 (part 1 of 2)

(chapter 5 here)

April 1999

“Nico, look what arrived,” Will announces, bouncing back into the office.

Nico looks up, hopeful. “Is it my new three-hole punch?”

Will looks thrilled enough that it just might be the three-hole punch.

“Even better,” Will says. He pulls up a chair next to Nico and begins attempting to open a cardboard box. Smaller than a bread box, probably the wrong shape for a three-hole punch. Damn.

Nico watches Will struggle for a good thirty seconds before snatching the box away, grabbing a letter opener and easily slitting the packing tape. He hands the box back, one eyebrow raised.

Will just grins like an idiot. “My hero.”

There’s yet another box inside the first, and Will, very sensibly, hands it over before he can try breaking into it.

“Oh. It’s a… camera?” Nico says, confused. The X-Files already has a camera. It’s been serving Nico well for years. He’s rather attached to it, honestly. The little device has seen better days, but it’s small and sleek, fitting in his coat pocket and into the cradle of his hands like it was custom made.

“It’s a digital camera,” Will says, taking the box back once Nico’s cut the tape.

“Oh –”

“So you don’t need film! Plus you can take a photo, and see it right away on the little screen.” Will looks delighted.

Nico nods in recognition. “Yeah, Frank’s got one of those. That’s cool.”

Nico doesn’t think he’s ready to retire his film camera yet, despite its sometimes-reluctance to power on and the little piece of electrical tape holding the battery door shut. But maybe Will can use the new camera. He seems intent to try, anyway. Prodding at it for a moment, Will manages to turn the thing on, then aims it at Nico, pressing a button. The camera makes a fancy little digital beep.

“Hey,” Nico protests, scowling. He tries to shove the camera out of the way, but Will’s already lowered it to his lap, poking at the buttons.

“Aww,” Will exclaims. He turns the camera to Nico and yes, sure enough, there’s Nico on the tiny screen, looking blindsided and five-o’clock-shadowed.

“Amazing. What a time to be alive,” Nico says, flat. “Now delete that immediately. I know you can, I’ve seen Frank do it.”

Will shakes his head, trying and utterly failing to maintain a straight face. “No can do, this model doesn’t have that function.”

“Fuck you,” Nico complains, reaching for the camera. But Will pulls it away, fumbling and almost dropping it. Will’s eyes go wide as he catches it just before it smashes to the floor. Nico snorts.

“One of the best things about digital cameras,” Will is saying, continuing to keep the thing out of Nico’s reach, aided by his unfairly long arms, “is that you can take as many pictures as you want!”

Nico smirks. “Because you can just delete the ones you don’t like?”

Will freezes, looking hilariously caught-out, and Nico laughs. “It’s cool, anyway,” Nico says. “I heard the Bureau was getting them.”

Nico regards Will for a moment, his partner now carefully lining up possibly-artistic shots of the mess on Nico’s desk, the empty coffee maker, his own shoes.

“Wonder how long before the Bureau writes up a new policy about agents not using the cameras for personal photos,” Nico muses aloud, thinking of all the possibilities. Not possibilities for him. But maybe for others. It’s his job to think of what other people might do, okay?

Will binks in confusion for a moment before turning abruptly, adorably pink. Nico laughs, pretending his own face isn’t also warming.

“Oh god,” Will says.

“Exactly.”

Something seems to occur to Will. “Hey, now we can take pictures of us together!” he exclaims.

Nico sighs. He somehow didn’t see that coming, though he probably should have. “Because we couldn’t have done that before?”

But Will’s already scooting his chair up next to Nico, leaning in while he holds the camera out in front of them, lens aimed in sort-of their general direction. “Say cheese,” Will says.

Nico tries to look as unimpressed as he can manage. It turns out not to make any difference anyway, because when Will checks the camera, it’s captured a blurry shot of the wall behind them, a flash of gold at the bottom of the frame that might be Will’s hair.

“Damn it,” Will frowns, shamelessly deleting the image. “We need to get closer.”

“Not sure that was really the issue,” Nico mutters to no avail as Will comes in even closer. Nico’s gotten accustomed to Will’s lack of personal space over the months, has gotten to appreciate it, mostly. But this happens so fast and somehow Nico finds himself unprepared – for Will’s arm, tight around his shoulders, Will’s warm cheek suddenly smushed against his.

His whole body warms; tingling heat accompanied by the sudden, intense desire for more, aching like an open wound. Nico’s desperately hoping it doesn’t show on his face, when Will snaps the picture.

Will’s touch is gone just as fast – too fast – as he moves back, flips the camera to look at the photo. Something softens in Will’s expression, and he doesn’t speak for a moment.

“What?” Nico asks, nervous about it now.

“We look –” Will shakes his head, smiling. “It’s – just a good camera.”

Nico reaches for the camera and Will passes it over. It is a good photo. There’s Will, beaming like an idiot, looking somehow thrilled to be pressed up against Nico. And Nico looks… content. Maybe a little harassed, but happy. He’s not smiling, but there’s a quirk to his lips. A warmth in his eyes.

And the weirdest thing is – they don’t just look good individually. They look good together. Like the two of them add up to more than the sum of their parts. It’s as if, seven months ago, there was a Will and a Nico. And now there’s a them. How did that happen, without Nico realizing?

“I’m gonna print that one,” Will says, a bit softer. He takes the camera back.

“Sure,” Nico agrees, as cool as he can. “We can put it right next to the picture of my fish.”

Will looks pleased. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Nico turns back to his desk, shuffling papers unnecessarily.

Will stands, glancing at his watch. “Oh, it’s almost five. Wanna walk me to the train?”

More often than not these days, they leave the office together, deep in conversation – lingering first in the lobby, then making their way to the metro station where they finally part ways and Nico heads back to the parking garage.

“Um.” Nico clears his throat. “I was going to stick around, actually. Some Fridays I grab pizza from that place on F Street, pull some old files.” He’s not sure why he’s suddenly feeling awkward about it. But he supposes he’s never mentioned it to Will before.

Will blinks, surprised.

Nico shrugs. “You know. Try looking at things with new eyes. See if I can find anything I’ve missed.”

“Oh –”

“You don’t have to stay,” Nico adds quickly, because he suddenly realizes that he would like the company, but he definitely doesn’t want Will to feel obligated. “I’m off the clock. It probably sounds stupid, but I just kind of like hanging around here when the building empties out. It feels –”

“Spooky?” Will grins.

Nico rolls his eyes. “No, nerd. It’s – relaxing. I don’t know, I can’t explain it. Go home,” he adds, tossing an eraser at Will and turning back to his desk. “We’re done for the day.”

“No, I get that.” Will doesn’t make any move to leave yet. “I’d like to stay, actually. But –”

Nico’s quick to shake his head. “No, go enjoy your Friday night. You don’t have to–”

“No, I was going to say I would stay, but my little brother’s in town with his band. We’re going out for dinner. But next week? If we’re not out on a case?” Will asks, suddenly sounding nervous.

Nico gives him a dry look. “You wanna stay after work. Put in unpaid time. In the spooky basement.”

“Yup.” Will beams at him.

Nico rolls his eyes. “Fine. Next Friday, I will permit you to stay late and do work you’re not being compensated for. Happy?”

“Thrilled,” Will grins, plucking the eraser from the floor and tossing it back. “I’ll even cover the pizza.”

It becomes a routine, after that, nearly every Friday.

And before too long, case research begins bleeding over to Nico’s apartment, which isn’t far from the Bureau, after all. Somehow, Nico’s not surprised when that begins to evolve into something more; Nico putting on a movie, in disbelief that Will’s never seen it. This, inevitably, leads to Will falling asleep on Nico’s couch, Nico draping a blanket over him before heading to his own bed.

And if Friday nights begin leading to Saturday morning coffee, before Will heads back to home… well.

Will’s sprawled on the couch with a book when the apartment door clicks open. He raises a lazy hand to wave at his sister. “There’re leftovers in the fridge if you’re hungry. How was your date?”

“Lovely, thank you,” Kayla answers happily, kicking off her shoes and joining Will on the couch, shoving at his feet until he moves them out of her way.

“What did Luke want?” Kayla asks, reaching for the remote.

Will frowns. “Luke? Luke who?”

“Luke Castellan. Luke your ex.”

Will makes a face. “He’s not exactly an ex.”

“Well, he’s an ex-something,” Kayla mutters, beginning to flick through channels. “He called. Did you not see the message?”

Coffee is what Luke wants, apparently, and mid-morning the next day, Will excuses himself, vaguely telling Nico he has an errand to run.

Leaving the Bureau and walking up Ninth Street, he feels guilty about the white lie. And maybe a little guilty that he felt the need to lie in the first place. There’s no reason for it, Will reminds himself firmly. Luke is a colleague, same as Nico. The coffee meeting is about a case, ostensibly. It’s all on the up and up.

Nevertheless, waiting to cross the street to the coffee shop, all Will really wants to do is turn back the way he came. There’s a chilly breeze, and he pulls his blazer tighter around his shoulder. He wishes he’d brought his coat. He wishes he was back in the Bureau basement.

When Will pushes the door open at the Starbucks, Luke’s already sitting at a table by the window, all lanky height and tousled brown hair and dark, smoldering gaze. And okay, Will can admit to himself that it was attractive, once upon a time.

Luke stands, pulls Will in for a handshake, just a little too friendly, looking just a little too pleased at Will’s arrival. Waiting at the counter for his coffee, Will feels more than a little like fleeing, not entirely sure why.

“I heard about your reassignment,” Luke is saying once they’re both seated. “Field work, hey? How’s your spooky partner?”

Will cups his coffee with both hands, warming his cold fingers. “It’s been great, actually,” he says lightly. “Nico’s an excellent agent. We’ve had some really interesting cases.”

Luke grins. “Yeah? Aliens? I think I heard something about vampires.”

Will feels a sharp flash of annoyance, not in any mood to joke about a job he’s become very fond of, nor the partner he has very similar feelings for. Never mind that the maybe-vampire case almost culminated in Will losing that partner, permanently, something that continues to eat at him in quiet moments. “We’re just solving cases. No different than what you do.”

Will can hear the irritation in his own voice, and surely Luke can too. Luke holds up one hand in surrender. “Okay, okay, take it easy Will. I was just kidding.”

“What do you want, Luke?” Will asks, abruptly finding himself completely devoid of patience.

Luke looks surprised, but quickly recovers. “I wanted to get your input on a case, actually.”

The no need to be rude about it seems unspoken, but Will can’t find it in himself to care. The truth of it is that he doesn’t really like Luke Castellan, whatever they had together a couple of years ago aside. But if this is purely about work, Will supposes he can live with that. He takes a deep breath. “Sure. What’s the case?”

Luke reaches for his bag, extracting a file. “It’s a local case. Alexandria PD, they want our help on a serial killer profile. Three murders in the past six weeks. Victims vary in age, race, gender. No known connections to each other.”

Will frowns, feeling his shoulders relax a bit at the now-familiar feeling of sinking into a new mystery. “I take it there’s some kind of pattern?”

Luke raises an eyebrow. “The point of entry. Or rather, the lack of one.”

“What do you mean?”

“First victim, college student. Killed in her ten-by-twelve cinder block dorm room. She was found with the windows locked and the door chained from the inside. Second guy was found in a maintenance shed. Again, locked from the inside. The last incident, yesterday, was the top floor of a high security office building. Nothing at all on the security monitors. Janitor spoke to the victim minutes before the murder, didn’t see or hear a thing out of the ordinary.”

Will considers. “Suicides?”

“Each victim was found with their liver ripped out,” Luke informs him. “No cutting tools used.” Luke opens the file then, pulling out a photo and pushing it towards Will. A gory mess of someone’s midsection. Will raises his eyebrows.

“The killer what – used their bare hands?” Will asks, pulling the file closer for a better look.

“As far as we can tell, yeah.”

Will surveys the bloody evidence, impressed despite himself. “Physiologically that’s… pretty improbable. This sounds like it could be an X-File.”

Luke leans back. “Let’s not get carried away. What I’d like from you is a look over the case histories. Maybe come down to the crime scene. See what you think about a profile.”

Will glances up to meet Luke’s gaze. “Do you want me to ask Nico?”

Luke shrugs, seemingly trying for unconcerned. “If he wants to come along and give you a hand, sure. But just make sure he knows this is my case, Will. The thing is – our section leader’s all tied up with another investigation at the moment, and I’ve been given clearance to run this on my own. If I can break a case like this one, it might just be the bump up the ladder I need. And who knows? If you can help, maybe it’ll be your ticket out of the basement.”

Nico seems willing enough, his eyes lighting up at the mere mention of the extracted livers. Will smiles to himself. They’ve reached a point in their partnership where Will knows exactly what will get his partner going, and it warms him a little every time he’s able to provide it. Even if it is in the form of manual dissection.

It’s a short drive to the crime scene, a glass-fronted six-storey office building on a block lined with several other such buildings.

“No balconies, no fire escapes,” Nico notes as they approach the entrance, glancing up at the shiny exterior, glinting in the early afternoon sun. “And those windows don’t open. Can’t imagine it would have been easy to get to the sixth floor from the outside.”

The place does seem particularly secure, Will thinks, as they pass through two different checkpoints just to reach the elevators. He takes note of the security cameras in the lobby and the elevator.

All’s quiet on the sixth floor when they arrive, no sign of Luke or his partner. The office where the murder occurred is a far cry from their office at the Bureau. Besides the fact that it’s currently a crime scene, it’s impressive; vast, with floor-to ceiling windows and a desk that Will’s pretty sure is worth more than all the furniture he owns. If he and Nico had this kind of space in the basement, they could add a sofa. Maybe a stationary bike.

“Just think how many filing cabinets you could fit in here,” Will murmurs.

Nico grins. “Right? I could finally take my cryptid art collection out of storage, start a whole gallery wall.” He spreads his arms out in front of him.

“Wait – what?” Will laughs, but Nico just waggles his eyebrows, immediately getting to work. He pulls out a camera (not the digital one, Will notes) and evidence bags. He drops to a crouch, a close inspection of the carpet around where the most recent victim was found. Will takes in the dried blood, soaked through lush, sand-colored carpet, yellow plastic evidence markers scattered over the room like fallen leaves.

A moment later Nico turns to glance up at Will, brow furrowed. “You said there was nothing on the cameras, right?”

“Yeah,” Will agrees. “And there was a security guard right outside the door.”

Nico chews on it for a long moment, thinking. “This is definitely an X-File. Why didn’t they just send a consult request straight downstairs?”

Will shrugs, ignoring the flash of guilt. “Luke and I knew each other at the Academy. I’m sure he just felt more comfortable approaching me.”

Nico, unfortunately, is an excellent profiler, when it comes right down on it. Normally Will doesn’t mind much, having that intense gaze directed at him rather than any given murderer. He tries not to give it too much thought, but the truth is he usually likes the attention. Right now, however, he could do without it. Nico rises, watching Will a little too intently.

“And I make people… uncomfortable?” Nico guesses.

Will grimaces. “Look, Luke likes to play by the book. He thinks your methods, your theories –”

“Are spooky?” Nico’s lips quirk.

“You know how people are.”

Nico holds Will’s gaze a moment longer, all big dark eyes and long lashes, just long enough for Will to feel butterflies stirring in his stomach. Honestly. Does Nico know what he’s doing?

“And Luke…” Will shifts awkwardly, wishing he didn’t always have to be so obvious, an open book. “He wanted to make sure you knew this is his case.”

Nico rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, I know. He thinks it’ll be good for his career.”

Nico huffs dismissively and Will feels a rush of fondness. He’s known Nico less than a year, but he’d never call him competitive, nor does he seem to have any interest in climbing the corporate ladder. He’s truly just about the case. Finding answers. Solving the puzzle. At the very least, it aligns nicely with Will’s own moral code, and at the most, it endears him deeply.

Will glances toward the doorway, checking to make sure Luke hasn’t arrived yet. He lowers his voice. “Luke likes to come out on top. You know the type. But it’s not as if we really have to work with him. We’ll just take a look at the evidence, give our expert opinion and then move along.”

Nico nods. “I can live with that.”

“You’re the expert,” Will adds under his breath, aiming a light kick at Nico’s shoe.

Nico laughs, low. He looks pleased. “I already knew that,” he says, kicking Will back.

“Agent Solace is right in here,” comes a voice from the hallway, and they both turn.

“Will,” Luke grins, striding into the room. “Sorry I’m late.” He reaches out to shake Will’s hand, his gaze lingering just long enough to make Will take a step back. He’s sure Luke does want their help on his way up the ladder, has no doubt that that’s exactly what prompted this meeting. But he’s getting the feeling the other man may have other intentions as well. And Will is very much not interested.

Will clears his throat. “Not a problem. We just got here ourselves. Luke Castellan – Nico di Angelo.” He gestures between the two men.

The two shake hands. Nico watches Luke even as Luke turns away, a slight furrow to his brow.

“And this is my partner, Annabeth Chase,” Luke adds, as a serious-looking dark-haired woman enters the room, her gaze thoughtful. She brightens as she catches sight of Will.

“Agent Solace,” Annabeth extends her hand. “It’s good to see you. How are you enjoying field work?”

“I’m loving it, actually,” Will smiles. “I didn’t expect to run into you here.”

Will hadn’t realized Annabeth was partnered with Luke. He briefly worked with her at Quantico before she was transferred to Violent Crimes. She’s a consummate professional, almost always more knowledgeable than anyone else in the room. Just her presence is reassuring.

“Nice to see you again, Agent Chase,” Nico says.

Annabeth nods, a small smile. “You as well. I was pleased to hear you’d be able to offer your expertise,” she tells Nico. “I suggested to Agent Castellan that this case might be in your wheelhouse.”

Luke clears his throat. “Annabeth, they’re purely here as consultants. At least this time.” He offers Will a winning smile that Will doesn’t return. There’s the slightest crease to Annabeth’s brow as she flicks a glance between them.

“So, Agent di Angelo, what do you think?” Luke asks, light. “Does this look like the work of little green men?”

“Gray,” Nico says, deadpan. His expression doesn’t change, but Will knows him well enough to take in the slight tensing in his posture. He feels its echo in his own jaw.

“Excuse me?” says Luke, still smiling.

“Gray,” Nico corrects. “You said green men. The Reticulan skin tone is actually more of a dark gray. They’re notorious for their extraction of terrestrial human livers, due to iron depletion in the Reticulan galaxy.”

Luke’s smile falters. “You can’t be serious.”

“Do you have any idea what liver and onions go for on Reticula?” Nico asks, just this side of impolite. “Excuse me.” He turns, crossing to the other end of the room.

Luke looks sour at this, but makes no comment. Will lingers near Luke and Annabeth, all three watching Nico. He crouches at the wall across from the desk, pulling out tweezers and extracting something from the carpet, then glancing to a vent cover near the ceiling. He pulls over a chair, climbing on it and proceeding to dust the vent cover for prints.

Luke frowns. “What the hell is he doing? That ventilation shaft is maybe six by eighteen inches. Even if someone could squeeze through it, it’s screwed in place.”

Nico walks back towards them, holding up an evidence bag. Inside, just visible, is a thin metal thread. “Well, something came through there.”

Will’s at the Bureau early the next morning, but when the door of the basement stairwell falls shut behind him, he can see light already shining through the door of the office.

“Come take a look at this,” Nico says as Will enters, not turning from where he’s hunched over a lightbox.

“What, not even a good morning?”

Nico’s head shoots up. He blinks, wide-eyed and bemused, taking a minute to focus on Will. “Hi?”

Will laughs. “Hi.” He hangs his coat and crosses the room, pulling up a chair.

“This is the print I lifted from the vent cover yesterday,” Nico says, tapping a slide on the left. “These others are from an old X-File. I’ve found records of nine murders, Alexandria and surrounding area, undetermined points of entry. Each victim had their liver removed. Prints were found at nine of the ten crime scenes.” Nico sits back so Will can lean forward over the table, squinting at the prints.

“Nine murders,” Will says slowly. “Luke never mentioned…”

“He’s probably not aware of them,” Nico says. “Didn’t do his research. These prints were lifted before he was born, in Fort Hunt.” He taps the right side of the lightbox, five sets of prints. “And these two others were lifted probably before his mother was born.”

Will frowns, peering at the small type on the sheets on the lightbox. “Wait – the dates on these are 1939 and… 1909?”

“Yup. And fingerprinting was just coming into its own in 1909, so there’s not a lot of print evidence from that time period, but I found records of two other murders that year that sure sound similar.” Gingerly, Nico hands Will two handwritten reports, the paper brittle under protective plastic sheets.

Will sits back, scanning through the text; neatly handwritten records from some agent who’s likely long dead, a voice back echoing through the decades.

“Thirty nine year old woman, found dead in a room locked from the inside,” Will reads, frowning. “Cause of death, blood loss, major trauma to victim’s abdomen, liver appears to have been forcibly removed.” Will shakes his head, bewildered. “That’s bizarre.” He double-checks the date at the top of the page – May 3rd, 1909. “Do you think the murders this month were copycats?”

Nico shakes his head. “Not copycats. Each fingerprint is unique, right? The prints I lifted yesterday are a perfect match to the ones in 1909 and 1939.”

Will frowns. “How, though?” He returns his attention to the slides on the lightbox, now looking more closely. “And why are the prints so long?” Each one looks stretched, elongated. Not like any prints Will’s ever seen before. At first he’d assumed the records of the historical prints were somehow compromised. It’s not unusual for decades-old files to be damaged in some way. But as he looks closer, Will realizes none of the text on the slides is stretched, only the prints. Including the ones from the office building yesterday.

“Not sure yet.” Nico shrugs. “But these murders seem to occur in clumps, over the decades, right? There have only been three this year. I’m betting that means we can expect at least a couple more missing livers.”

“So we go to Violent Crimes and present a profile saying these crimes were committed by what – someone who’s over a hundred years old, yet still capable of overpowering a healthy, six-foot-two businessman?” Will asks, doubtful. He’s not questioning the evidence, or Nico’s research. But it’s a lot to wrap his mind around this early in the morning.

Nico grins. “And the guy should stand out in a crowd, with ten-inch fingers.”

Will laughs. “You know, Nico – this is incredible, but – I don’t know how much further we’ll be able to follow this line of inquiry. Bottom line, this is Luke’s case.” Will’s gut twists uncomfortably. He can already anticipate Luke’s reaction to this theory. ”He was pretty clear on that.”

“Not a problem,” Nico says. “Our X-File dates back to 1909. We had it first.”

Will glances back to the lightbox, his gaze drifting out of focus, considering.

“Look, how about this,” Nico says. “We have our investigation, and they have theirs. Never the twain shall meet.” There’s a spark in Nico’s eyes. Curiosity and discovery, a little manic. It’s become harder and harder to resist with each passing month.

Will nods. “Sure. I can get on board with that.”

Nico beams, radiant and inconveniently adorable.

Will laughs, glancing back to the report in his hand. He hands it back to Nico and crosses to his desk, in sudden need of a little space. “Hey, how’s your profile coming?” he asks.

“Actually,” Nico says, “I was thinking maybe you could take a crack at it.”

“But you – you’re the profiler. You’re the expert –”

Nico shrugs, apparently unconcerned with this. “Yeah, but Luke and Annabeth came to you for help. It makes sense for you to do the write-up.”

“I – don’t know if I can –” Will begins, awkward.

“Of course you can, Will.” Nico’s smile is warm. “You’re an excellent writer and you’re great at analysis. I’m always impressed when I read your field reports. Why don’t you give it a shot and then we can talk it over together?”

Will pushes back from his desk, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Okay,” he says. “wanna hear what I’ve got so far?”

Nico turns, grinning. “Always.”

Will rolls his eyes and begins reading aloud. “After careful review of these murders, I believe the killer to be a male, twenty-five to thirty-five years of age, with above average intelligence. His manner of entry has so far been undetectable. This may be due to his superior knowledge of the inner structure of buildings and duct works, he may be hiding in plain sight, posing as delivery or maintenance workers.

“The extraction of the liver is the most significant detail of these crimes. The liver posessess regenerative qualities. It cleanses the blood. The taking of this trophy is the transferring act for the killer, to cleanse himself of his own impulses.

“As the victims are unrelated and we cannot predict the next, we must utilize the fact that a killer will not always succeed in finding a victim. When this occurs, a serial killer may return to the site of a previous murder, hoping to recapture the emotional high. Given this, I believe our best course of action is to target these sites.”

Will sighs, tossing his papers on his desk and raising his eyes to Nico’s. The look on Nico’s face catches at Will’s heart. It’s not just approving, but fond. Proud.

“What?” he laughs, self-conscious.

“It’s good. I think you nailed it,” Nico says. “You left out the part about the killer being over a hundred years old, though. And being able to travel through vents.”

Will laughs. “Well, I don’t think Violent Crimes is quite ready for that. But it’s like you said – they’ll do their investigation, and we’ll keep looking for… alternate possibilities.”

They regard each other for a moment, Nico’s gaze still fond. Open. It makes Will want to give him more to smile about. Makes him want to keep Nico’s attention, his approval. It feels like a stupid impulse, childish. But then –

“Hold on,” Will says slowly, his memory suddenly catching up with their conversation this morning, with the bits and pieces of his profile. “There was another case – it could have been 1909 –” and Will’s up and heading for the file cabinet in the corner, the one where Nico keeps newspaper clippings, old magazine articles. Nico follows, watching as Will feverishly flips through folders in a bottom drawer.

“I was going through this stuff, when you were away sick a couple of weeks ago,” Will says. Where did he see it?

“Here!” he says, triumphant. He rises, newspaper clipping in his hand. “I don’t think the story about the death was even meant to be saved, the clipped article is about a geomagnetic storm. But there’s a little article on the back.” Will turns the paper, reading aloud, “a seventy-two year old man and his forty-five year old son were found dead in their home, apparent victims of an animal attack.”

Will scans further. “It says… both had significant wounds to the abdomen, no other trauma to the bodies. It doesn’t mention anything about missing livers, but –”

“But maybe it wouldn’t, if it was assumed to be an animal attack and it wasn’t investigated any further.” Nico’s eyes are alight with interest as he carefully takes the yellowed clipping from Will. “Yeah. This fits. And the dates line up perfectly.” Nico looks up, beaming. “You’re brilliant.”

Will snorts, but he can feel himself blushing. “I learned from the best,” he manages.

“So that’s – that’s five murders in 1939,” Nico says, his gaze going unfocused, the clipping loose in his hand. “And six in 1909.”

“I wonder if there are more,” Will says.

Nico nods slowly. “That’s definitely possible.” His gaze shifts back to Will. Will can almost hear the gears turning. “Wanna head over to the Library of Congress? I bet we can unearth a few more missing livers. Whoever finds the most buys dinner?”

Will laughs. “As appealing as that sounds – I think we need to present our profile to Violent Crimes.”

Luke and his team seem to be in agreement with Will’s profile, and that evening finds Will and Nico in the parking garage under the building where the last victim was killed. They’re in Nico’s car – a newer-model black sedan, shiny-clean and freshly detailed. While Nico’s always happiest in his own car, Will privately prefers the Bureau fleet cars. Although snacking is technically permitted in Nico’s car, he gets twitchy about crumbs.

So far, the stakeout has been profoundly unexciting. Will shifts, stretching. His stomach rumbles, and Nico quirks an eyebrow. Will sticks out his tongue.

Then, sudden in the silence of the parking garage, there’s a clanging and scrabbling in a nearby ventilation shaft. The agents glance at each other, alarmed. Will scrambles to sit up straight, then quickly and quietly follows Nico out of the car, both of them drawing their guns. Every little movement seems loud and resonant in the mostly-empty space.

“Call for backup,” Nico says under his breath.

The scrambling noises continue. A rat? Maybe a squirrel? It sure sounds like something bigger.

Will retreats a few steps, quiet as he can. “Position ten requesting backup,” he says into his radio, never taking his eyes from the ventilation shaft.

Will’s jaw is tight, heart pounding. He’s finding situations like this more harrowing ever since Nico’s near-exsanguination in St. Ambrose, his anxiety rising off the charts at the drop of a hat, a fierce thread of protectiveness running through it all. It’s only been a couple of months, though, he reminds himself. Things like this must get easier in time.

Nico creeps in closer, calm, focused, dress shoes quiet on the concrete. When he’s within a few yards of the ventilation shaft, he raises his voice to yell. “Federal agent, I’m armed. Proceed out of the vent slowly.”

Still half-expecting a rat or a stray cat, Will’s eyes widen as the hatch at the bottom of the duct is kicked open and a young man emerges. He slowly stands and turns, holding his hands in the air.

There’s the slam of car doors and the sound of footsteps, then the chatter of radios and voices as agents approach from the other end of the parking garage. Will slowly lowers his gun.

“He doesn’t look any older than thirty, does he?” Will murmurs to his partner. “You think he’s our guy from 1909?” They’re seated side by side in the darkened observation room. The man from the ventilation shaft is on the other side of the glass, so far cooperating with a lie detector test.

Nico grimaces. “If he is, we should ask him for his skincare routine before they lock him up.”

Will bites down a laugh.

The door to the observation room opens, Luke and Annabeth quietly filing in. Luke automatically takes the single empty chair. Will glances up to see something like disbelief flicker over Nico’s face. Nico quickly stands, offering his chair to Annabeth. She shakes her head. Nico, stubborn as always, remains standing next to her, propping himself against the wall at the back of the little room.

Will rises after Nico, quirking an eyebrow at Annabeth. She rolls her eyes and sits. Will joins Nico at the wall, bumping their shoulders together. Nico bumps back. Will stumbles and Nico snorts, grabbing his arm. Luke turns to give them both a disgusted look and they fall silent.

The man on the other side of the glass – Eugene Victor Tooms, apparently – answers the examiner’s questions in a slow, dreamy monotone. He’s slim, dark-haired. Unobtrusive looking. He’s employed by Animal Control, he says, and his story is that he was in the vent for work-related purposes.

The examination continues, running first through the usual biographical queries before pivoting to questioning about the recent murders. Tooms denies having killed any of the victims.

“Are you over one hundred years old?” the examiner asks.

Luke shifts in his chair, brow furrowed. “That must be a control question.”

“I had her ask it,” Nico murmurs.

“No,” says Tooms.

“Have you ever been to Fort Hunt?” the examiner asks.

“Yes.”

“In 1939?” the examiner asks.

“No.”

“Are you worried you’re going to fail this test?”

“Yes. Because I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“He passed with flying colors,” the examiner tells the four agents in a conference room afterwards. “Either we’re not asking the right questions, or your suspect didn’t kill those people.”

Nico reaches for the readout, frowning over the results.

Annabeth nods. “I just spoke to the maintenance department at the building where we found him. They confirm that a strange smell was reported earlier in the day. Makes sense that Animal Control would be there investigating.”

Luke lets out a breath, frustrated. “Fuck. It’s a dead end.”

Will peers over Nico’s shoulder at the polygraph report. “Still doesn’t quite explain why he was there so late at night – crawling up an air duct, by himself. Without alerting security,” Will muses. Nico glances up, a quirk of his eyebrows in agreement with this assessment.

Luke shakes his head. “Will, he passed the test. His story checks out. This isn’t our guy.”

“No, Will’s right,” Nico says.

Luke turns his gaze on Nico, his expression dismissive. There’s a buzz of frustration under Will’s skin. It’s clear to him that Luke’s not going to put any stock in whatever Nico’s going to say, and he hasn’t even spoken yet.

“He lied on questions eleven and thirteen,” Nico says, tapping the readout. “His electrodermal and cardiographic responses are almost off the chart.”

Luke steps closer, just a little too far into Nico’s personal space. Will’s aware of precisely what constitutes Nico’s personal space at this point, not to mention who’s permitted to breach it. He feels the incursion as if it’s happening to his own body. Will pushes down an overwhelming, visceral desire to shove Luke out of the way.

“Was number eleven the hundred-year-old question?” Luke asks, hard. “Because I had a reaction to that stupid question too.”

“Can I see?” Annabeth asks mildly, reaching for the report.

“I don’t need you or that machine telling me this guy was alive in 1909!” Luke says, his voice rising.

Annabeth lowers the paper slowly to the table, shooting her partner a supremely unimpressed look. “Luke –”

“He’s the guy,” Nico says, obstinate.

“We’re letting him go,” Luke retorts. “It’s my case. It’s my call.” He turns to leave the room. “You coming, Annabeth?”

“Give me a minute,” Annabeth says, calm, and Luke rolls his eyes, the door slamming shut behind him.

The three of them stare at the door in silence for a moment.

“Nice guy,” Nico says, dry. “Seems like a real joy to work with.”

“He’s… stubborn.” Annabeth frowns. “He’s usually not quite this bad, honestly.”

Nico huffs. “You think I set him off?”

Annabeth gives him a wry smile. “It might have been mutual.” She pulls out a chair. “Can we take a closer look at these numbers?”

“Hey, you beat me here,” Nico says, opening the already-unlocked office door and beginning to pull off his coat. He glances at the clock on the wall. It’s not even 8:30, a good half-hour before Will usually appears. Will’s bent over his desk, scribbling into a notepad, coffee at his elbow. The coffee maker on the counter is half-empty. As Nico moves further into the office, he notices Will’s used one of his mugs, the one Frank got him for Christmas last year that says Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they’re not out to get you. Nico smiles, opening his mouth to comment on this.

Will clears his throat. “Yeah. I had an idea and –”

Will’s voice, wet and wobbly, is a jolt to Nico’s solar plexus. “Will? What happened?”

“Sorry,” Will shakes his head, wiping at his cheeks as Nico approaches his desk. “It’s nothing really. I um – I thought I’d see if I could get in touch with any of the family members from the 1939 murders –”

“Oh –” Nico begins, an automatic understanding.

“Yeah.” Will gives a wet laugh, another swipe at his face. “I’m fine. I really am. Just, one of them – Nolan Campbell – his parents are still alive, both in their 80s. They live in the UK now, which is why I thought it would be okay to call them at eight in the morning. His mom was really lovely. She wanted to tell me all about Nolan. So she did.”

Nico shifts so he’s sitting on the edge of Will’s desk. “It was good of you to listen.”

Will lets out a long breath. “What else could I do?”

“Yeah.” Nico’s fingers itch to reach out, and before he’s completely thought it through, they have – a quick squeeze to Will’s forearm that makes his heart stutter. It gets a smile from Will, though, and that’s what counts.

Will shakes his head. “I don’t think I got any new information.”

“That’s not what matters,” Nico says immediately.

“I don’t know if Reyna would agree. Definitely Octavian wouldn’t.”

“Well. Fuck Octavian.”

“I hope they don’t keep too close an eye on our long distance usage. My dad – he would always get all bent out of shape about that.” Will makes a face.

“They don’t even notice,” Nico says. “Fucking Bureau probably spent five grand on staples last year.”

Will laughs, blue eyes sparkling up at Nico. His eyes are even prettier when he cries, Nico realizes with a jolt, bright blue and shining. Really not fair. Nico looks hideous when he cries, all splotchy and wild-eyed.

“He was a musician,” Will says.

“Who – the 1939 victim?”

“Yeah. His mom said. She was telling me how relieved she was that he wasn’t drafted – he had some kind of heart condition. And then he went and got murdered anyway.” Will takes a shaky breath. “She might be sending us a Christmas card. And I said I’d call back if – when we manage to solve the case.” Will carefully tears the corner off the sheet he was writing on – a name and phone number – pinning it securely to the bulletin board at the end of his desk, taking care to push the pin in all the way.

“He was murdered sixty years ago,” Will says, soft. “You’d never have known it, listening to his mom.”

Nico swallows. “Yeah. Those things stick with you.”

Will takes another deep breath, a little steadier now. “Sorry,” he says. “I guess I’ve been crying at work a lot lately.”

“Don’t be sorry. It’s okay to have emotions.” Nico clears his throat. “Personally, I try to avoid them whenever possible, but I’m not exactly a model of mental health.”

Will smiles, lopsided and fond.

Honestly, Nico’s still hasn’t quite recovered from all the talking they’ve done in the last couple of months. He’s definitely never had a working relationship anything like this; emotions so close to the surface, heart-to-heart talks about work and family. In the aftermath, he finds himself feeling raw and exposed. Weirdly healthy, though. Oddly grounded. Though he still hasn’t figured out how to start those conversations in the first place, and he’s not convinced he ever will. Luckily, he’s got Will.

Will tilts to the side, bumping his arm into Nico’s leg where it’s still resting on Will’s desk.

Nico watches him for a second more before – “I have a job for you.”

Will’s lips twitch. “Yeah? Other than the job I’m already doing?”

“Remember that Polish bakery we found on Indiana Avenue?”

“This is a baked goods related job?”

“Yes,” Nico says, firm. “It’s a beautiful morning. You probably got here before it was light out. I want you to walk to Indiana Avenue and get a box of those poppy seed strudel things.”

Will snorts. “Weren’t you just criticizing my choice in breakfast foods like, a week ago?”

Nico regards Will solemnly. “Desperate times, Will.”

He has such a fucking ridiculous desire to lift his hand, brush his fingers across Will’s cheek. He can almost feel the rasp of stubble under his fingertips, can almost imagine the quirk of pink lips.

Quelling that urge as best he can, instead Nico plucks Will’s glasses from where they’re sitting on the desk, sure to keep his fingers away from the lenses. Breath held, heart pounding, he leans in, places the glasses carefully on Will’s face. Because that doesn’t quite count as touching, Nico decides. Nico’s stomach does a frankly impressive backflip as he gently pushes the glasses up the bridge of Will’s nose with the tip of his index finger.

Will’s smile softens into something that makes Nico’s insides turn to mush.

And – It’s just a crush, right? It doesn’t have to be a big deal. God, it’s been a long time since Nico’s had a crush on anyone. That must be why it feels like this with Will. Why it feels like more.

“I can’t tell if you’re trying to distract me or get rid of me,” Will says, still puffy-eyed, but looking pleased.

“The sad truth is, you may never know for sure,” Nico says, sliding off the desk before he does something even stupider.

Will shakes his head, one more wipe at his face, and then he stands, bumping Nico on his way to the door. “Fine. And who’s covering breakfast?” he asks, eyes sparkling now in a way that makes Nico’s mind settle and his heart swell.

“You’re buying,” Nico says, deadpan.

And Will does feel lighter after the walk outside. Calmer. As much as Nico sounded like his mother, telling Will to go get some fresh air, he may have had a point.

“Good, you’re finally back,” Nico says, as Will returns with the pastries. “Come take a look at this.”

Will glances at the clock on the wall, laughing. “What do you mean, finally? I don’t think I was even gone for half an hour.”

“Oh.” Nico looks up, bemused. “Seemed like longer.” The new, shorter hair looks good on Nico, Will notes privately. It makes his face look younger, makes those big, dark eyes look even more dramatic.

“Any amount of time I’m gone is interminable,” Will teases. He drops the box of pastries on his desk, crossing the room and pulling up a chair to see what’s got his partner’s attention. He bumps his chair up against Nico’s and a brief battle ensues, but Will can tell Nico is far too eager to show him what he’s found to be much of a contender. He settles for nudging his chair up against Nico’s and peering over his shoulder.

Nico turns and shoots him a sweet smile, quick, his face inches away, and Will’s stomach flips. He frowns to himself, determinedly focusing on the prints in front of them and not the scent of Nico’s hair; rain-washed stone, something sharp and fresh.

“Okay, check this out,” Nico’s saying. “These are the prints they took from Tooms at the station last night, and these,” he taps the other side of the lightbox, the elongated prints, “are the ones I lifted from the vent in the office building two days ago.”

Will nods. “Okay. But they’re not even the same shape. The ones from the office building don’t even look human.”

“True, but now, look at this.” Nico raises an eyebrow at Will and then zips across the office to his laptop, his chair making a neat beeline on the linoleum. Will, not trusting his coordination or his probably-1960s-vintage chair, stands and follows, squinting at the screen over Nico’s shoulder.

“Here are the prints, side by side, and – voila.” Nico hits a few buttons, and the prints taken from Tooms last night stretch out, familiar elongated ovals. “A perfect match,” Nico announces, eyes bright.

Will blinks at the screen. “What the fuck,” he says flatly.

“I know!” Nico exclaims.

“But how–”

“No idea,” Nico shrugs, thrilled by it.

Will gazes at the screen, trying to wrap his mind around any logical explanation for this. Nico’s hunched over the laptop, carefully making small adjustments to the images, fiddling with the brightness and contrast. Will lifts his hand up in front of his face, considering the whorls of his own fingerprints. “Can you print out that fingerprint comparison?” he asks Nico.

“Yeah, sure.” Nico clicks through a few windows and a second later the printer on the counter hums to life. Will crosses the room to collect the sheets as they emerge.

“Oh. Fuck,” Nico says suddenly, fumbling in the pocket of his jacket, draped over the back of the chair. Will hears the buzzing of Nico’s phone as he extracts it.

“Di Angelo,” he says. Then, “Okay, we’ll be right there.”

“Where –” Will begins as Nico stands.

“Another missing liver,” Nico says, grim.

Will shoots a longing look at the abandoned box of pastries. He folds the printed sheets carefully into quarters as he follows his partner out of the office.

“This is it, right?” Nico puts the car in park, glances up at the large, brick-fronted house they’ve just pulled up in front of.

Will double-checks the address he’d written down in their rush out of the Bureau. “Yup, 247. That’s the right one.”

They exit the car, and Nico leads them up a tree-lined drive, then wide stone steps. The front doors stand open, yellow crime scene tape standing out against dark, polished wood.

“Nice place,” Nico comments, glancing around as they step inside. “Maybe this guy likes high-end livers.” The floor is shining, immaculate hardwood, reflecting a crystal chandelier overhead.

“Think I could fit my entire apartment in this entryway,” Will says under his breath. He and Nico follow the sound of activity and voices through the entryway into a vast dining room.

“Let’s run a check on liver transplants in the next twenty four hours,” Luke is saying as they enter. “Maybe this thing is black market.”

Annabeth looks skeptical. “Luke, the way the liver was ripped out – can you really imagine it being of any use as a transplant?”

“Look, at this point I’m willing to give any theory a shot.”

“Now you’re speaking my language,” Nico says as he and Will approach.

Luke turns, a reflexive scowl as he catches sight of Nico. “I’m willing to give any sane theory a shot. Sorry, Will,” he says, pointedly turning away from Nico, “but I only want qualified members of the investigating team at the crime scene.”

“I asked them to come, Luke,” Annabeth says, frowning.

“What’s the matter, Castellan? Worried I’m going to solve your case?” Nico asks, cool. He goes to walk further into the room and Luke steps in front of him, blocking his path. Nico raises an eyebrow, not backing down.

“Luke, we have authorized access to this crime scene.” Will cuts in, trying for cool and collected, though his heart is pounding in his throat and all he really wants to do is turn and run back to the car. He moves to stand beside Nico. He can feel the tension radiating off his partner. “A report of you obstructing another officer’s investigation might stick out in your personnel file.”

Before Luke can respond, Will grabs the sleeve of Nico’s jacket, physically pulling him over to the corner of the room where the collection of evidence markers is densest.

“I could have taken him. He’s only like, a foot taller than me,” Nico mutters. But he follows willingly enough.

Will snorts. “Yeah, but I’m willing to bet he doesn’t fight fair. Let’s just have a look around and get out of here. The two of you are making me nervous.”

“He started it,” Nico grumbles.

“I know. Let’s just… try to get along for a bit longer.”

Nico rolls his eyes, bumping his shoulder into Will’s. Will fights a smile, mouthing be nice.

Nico mouths back, hand to his chest, who, me? and Will laughs, too loud. Grinning, Nico walks over to the fireplace, a close examination of the mantel.

Will scrubs a hand over his face, taking a second to steady his breathing. This collaboration is already starting to feel like a terrible idea. Will has always hated conflict, always shied away from it. Austin was the mediator, at home. Will was the one who’d avoid the situation altogether if he could manage it. He still prefers it that way.

“You okay, Solace?” Annabeth asks, low, walking over to join him a moment later.

“Yeah,” Will sighs, glancing over to where Luke is speaking to a police officer a few feet away. “I’m fine. Just – want to get this case dealt with.”

Annabeth shakes her head. “I’m sorry he’s being such an ass. I’ve never seen him so territorial before. We really do appreciate your help.”

Will nods, tired.

Luke joins them a moment later. “So, what do you think?”

“Well,” Will says. “It sure matches the profiles of the previous victims – liver extracted, no obvious point of entry.”

Luke’s nodding, brow furrowed, his gaze on the chalk outline.

“Actually – Nico found some prints you should take a look at,” Will adds, remembering what he and Nico were doing before they were interrupted with the news of yet another victim. “The prints taken from Tooms last night matched –”

“Okay, but this isn’t Tooms,” Luke interrupts.

“It’s Tooms,” Nico announces, his voice unexpected at Will’s shoulder.

“We cleared Mr. Tooms last night,” Luke says, his voice tight.

Nico shrugs. “There’s a vent over the fireplace. The vent cover was removed, and I found metal threads on the mantel, same as the crime scene at the office building.” He holds up an evidence bag. “And I’m pretty sure the prints I just lifted from the vent are going to match, too.”

“What the fuck are you saying, di Angelo? That the killer came through the fucking vent?”

Nico just quirks an eyebrow and heads for the door, thankfully electing not to antagonize Luke any further this time. Will begins to follow his partner out, feeling a headache starting to throb between his eyes, a knot of tension in his shoulders.

“You leaving too?” Luke asks, catching up to Will in the entryway.

“Yeah. Like I mentioned, Nico was doing a print comparison, evidence from the other crime scenes. Here, I can show you.” Will fishes the printout from his pocket, unfolding it and offering it to Luke.

Luke just scowls at the paper, though, seemingly reluctant to even touch it. “What the fuck is that?”

“These are Tooms’ prints.” Will taps the paper. “And these are the ones Nico lifted from the third crime scene.” He indicates the elongated prints.

“Your partner doesn’t even understand elementary print collection,” Luke says, disbelieving.

“I know they look strange, but they’re a match –” Will tries.

“You can go ahead and tell your partner to leave those prints alone,” Luke says with finality.

Will lets out a breath, sharp. “Look, Luke. You’re the one who asked for our input on this. Why bother if you’re going to block our investigation at every turn?”

“I’m not blocking your investigation,” Luke says, his voice rising. “Your partner’s got a screw loose. Did you hear those questions during the polygraph last night?”

Will’s in no mood for further argument. “I’m going back to the office. I’ll check in with you and Annabeth later,” he says.

Luke scoffs. “You know, Annabeth said di Angelo was a good agent, that we’d stand a better chance of solving this thing with him on board. So far, all I see is the two of you slowing us down.”

“Luke, Nico’s been working his ass off on this case. He’s found evidence of historical murders with the same MO –”

Luke doesn’t even seem to be listening. “Di Angelo had a decent reputation, back when he worked for Violent Crimes, but he’s lost his marbles working down in that basement.”

Will opens his mouth to protest, but Luke continues –

“You know, maybe it is for the best, that we’ve got the two of you on this case. Maybe your department needs to be exposed for what it really is. Octavian’s wanted the X-Files shut down for years.” Luke pauses. “He’s a buddy of mine, you know.”

Will blinks, a chill running through him. “Are you threatening us?”

Luke hesitates. When he speaks again, his tone is slightly more conciliatory. “Just trying to give you some friendly advice, Will. Give it some thought.”

Will shakes his head, turning to leave.

“Hey,” Luke says, sharp, a hand on Will’s shoulder. “Whose side are you on, anyway?”

Will jerks away from the touch. “The victim’s, Luke.”

Will fully expects a (completely justified) rant about Luke’s behavior on the drive back to the office. Nico’s uncharacteristically quiet, though, shooting Will an appraising look as he eases himself into the passenger seat and then flicking the radio on low. Will closes his eyes, tilting his head against the cool glass of the window.

“You okay?” Nico finally asks as they let themselves into the basement office.

“Headache,” Will says, short, dropping into his chair. He rubs at the bridge of his nose.

Nico hums in understanding. He digs in a drawer for a moment. “Tylenol?” He shakes the bottle at Will.

“Please.”

Nico tosses the little bottle across the office, a neat shot that should have landed directly in Will’s outstretched palm. Will fumbles it and sighs, dropping out of his chair to crawl under his desk.

Nico laughs, but when Will surfaces again, the other man is on his feet, a sympathetic look on his face.

“Where are you off to?” Will asks, blearily looking around for his water bottle.

“Coffee. I think you need it.” Nico says simply, a squeeze to Will’s shoulder as he walks past, collecting his coat at the door.

“God, yes,” Will groans, dropping his head heavily to the desk. “Have I mentioned how much I love you?” He’s tired and muddled and the words are out before he realizes what he’s said. He freezes, head to the wood of his desk, feeling his face heat.

There’s a pause across the room, then a huff of laughter. “I’ll be right back,” Nico says, his voice softer than before.

Will’s mostly recovered his composure by the time Nico returns with the coffee, flipping through files with (finally) a pastry on a paper napkin next to him. When Nico hands over the Dunkin’ cup, Will accepts it gratefully, taking a small sip and then several gulps after determining the temperature is below-scalding. He glances up to see Nico watching him, something soft in his gaze.

“What?” Will laughs, self-conscious. Nico shakes his head, smiling. A second later Will feels Nico’s touch at his wrist, making his stomach lurch pleasantly; a brush of fingers over bare skin.

Will blinks up at the other man.

“Didn’t realize it was formal Wednesday,” Nico says, his voice catching lower than Will expected.

“Oh,” Will laughs, flustered, glancing down to the silver cufflinks he put on this morning. “Those were my dad’s. My mom gave them to me when I was in Fort Worth.”

“Nice,” Nico murmurs. They gaze at each other for a moment, heat buzzing in the air between them. There’s something unreadable in Nico’s expression. Something thoughtful, maybe resolving. Something warm.

Will glances away, suddenly eager for a change of subject.

“You know, I think I’d like to see if they’ve got the autopsy report yet – from the victim at the office building,” Will says.

Nico nods. “Yeah, good idea. You gonna head upstairs?”

“Yeah.” Will stands. He supposes he’ll have to. He’d prefer to avoid interacting with Luke as much as he can, honestly. But he at least can pretend to be a grown up about this.

“You won’t be offended if I don’t come along?” Nico asks, dry. “I’m not sure my presence would be appreciated.”

“No, you don’t have to come.” Will makes a face. “Look, I’m – I’m sorry about Luke. I didn’t have any idea he was going to be… the way he’s been.”

Nico shakes his head, dismissive. “Definitely not your fault.”

Will takes the stairs up to the second floor, giving himself a bit more time to mentally prepare. The gods must be smiling on him, anyway, because when he reaches the Violent Crimes section, it’s quiet, Luke’s cubicle empty. Will rounds the partition to Annabeth’s, knocking softly on the dividing wall.

Annabeth’s head rises at the sound.

“Hey, do you have a minute?” Will asks.

“Yeah, of course,” Annabeth smiles. “Here, pull up a chair. Luke just left for lunch.”

“Oh,” Will says, “that’s – that’s good to know.” He hopes his relief isn’t too obvious. But it probably is. He can feel the throbbing in his head decrease by a couple of degrees.

Annabeth’s lips twitch. “Yeah,” she agrees. “I was just going over the autopsy report from the third victim –”

“Oh, perfect. That’s mostly why I came up here.” Will grabs a chair from the corner, pulling up next to Annabeth when she shifts to make room.

“It’s odd,” Annabeth’s saying, thoughtful. “What do you make of this?” She flips to the third page in the report, the toxicology screen, tapping a line with her finger and pushing it over to Will.

Will reads it over, frowning. “They found… evidence of an unknown sedative compound. That is odd.”

“Yes. It looks to be something that was ingested very shortly before the victim’s demise.”

“So something administered by the murderer, maybe?” Will asks, scanning down the rest of the page.”

“That’s what I’m thinking,” Annabeth agrees. “No obvious site of administration, though, and the perpetrator doesn’t seem to have used any substance that the tox screen recognized.”

“Anything similar on the previous autopsies?” Will asks.

“Nothing so obvious,” Annabeth says. “There were some wonky tox results on the first victim, but nothing as specific as this. And you know what else is strange,” Annabeth continues, flipping a couple of pages, “there’s no one living at the address Tooms provided at the police station.”

“Sketchy,” Will says. “Was it an old address, maybe?”

“That’s what I thought too,” Annabeth says, “but there’s no record of him ever living in that apartment, or any others in that block. I checked with the building management this morning.”

There’s an uncomfortable knot in Will’s stomach, growing. Luke’s positive that Tooms isn’t the guy, but there are just too many coincidences to ignore. He thinks back to his long-distance call this morning, a mother halfway across the world still mourning her son decades later.

“Hey, back at the crime scene, you mentioned some fingerprint evidence,” Annabeth says.

“Yeah,” Will says slowly.

“Not ready to share with the class yet?” Annabeth smiles.

Will sighs. “No. It’s not that. Just –” He glances around the cubicle farm, but there doesn’t seem to be anyone nearby. “I – I don’t want to cause problems. For Nico.”

Annabeth’s brow furrows. “What do you mean?”

Will grimaces, wondering how much he should share. The idea of getting some of the weight off his chest is tempting. And he’s not worried about Annabeth reporting everything he says to Luke.

“Luke… doesn’t like Nico. Obviously,” Will begins. He chances a glance to Annabeth, who looks sympathetic. “And I know that Octavian isn’t a big fan of Nico’s either, or of our department. Luke – he mentioned something earlier, at the crime scene. He kind of alluded to being friends with Octavian, that Luke would report back to him, if he thought Nico wasn’t… handling things the way Luke thought he should,” Will finishes, awkward. He really doesn’t like the feeling that he’s trying to tattle on Luke – never mind that Luke just threatened to do the same to Nico. But he’s feeling nauseous and exhausted about the whole thing. It feels a tiny bit better telling Annabeth.

Annabeth taps her pen on her desk, a twist to her mouth. “Well,” she says finally, “last I checked, Octavian didn’t have any friends.”

Will breathes out a laugh, nervous.

“I won’t tell you not to worry about it, but I think Luke’s mostly just blowing off steam, to be honest,” Annabeth says. “I don’t believe he has a closer relationship to Octavian than anyone else in the department. And Luke certainly isn’t Nico’s supervisor, or yours.”

Will feels that impulse he always does, to smooth things over, to reassure that he’s okay. “Thanks, Annabeth. That’s – good to hear. And look, I know this is Luke’s case, and I definitely don’t want to be the one to step on his toes, or to be responsible for bringing Nico into a situation where he does the same thing –”

“It’s not just Luke’s case,” Annabeth interrupts. “It’s our case.”

“Oh.” Will frowns, diverted. “He – he said something about your section leader being involved in another case, so Luke was running this one on his own –”

Annabeth’s eyebrows rise higher and higher as Will stammers out this sentence, and Will feels himself going red with realization.

“Oh shit.” Will presses a hand over his mouth.

“Yeah,” Annabeth agrees, unimpressed. “Our section leader is away, yes. So Luke and I were asked to lead this case.”

“He – he didn’t – specifically mention that,” Will says haltingly. “I’m – I’m sorry, Annabeth. I didn’t mean to –”

Annabeth’s already shaking her head. “You know what? Don’t worry about it. It’s not entirely surprising to me. But I’m glad you mentioned it. Even if you didn’t mean to.”

Will lets out a breath. “This is why they keep me in the basement,” he mutters. “So I can’t embarrass myself by talking to my colleagues.”

Annabeth lets out a laugh. “Really, don’t worry about it. I’d love to hear about the fingerprint evidence, though. If you feel comfortable telling me.”

“I showed the prints to Luke this morning – I don’t know if he mentioned…” Will trails off as Annabeth’s mouth twists into a frown.

“He didn’t,” she says.

Will sighs. “Okay. I’ll give you the run-down, then.” Will is hesitant at first – because Nico’s findings are honestly bizarre and as much as he’s gotten used to bizarre in the basement, up here in the noonday light shining over the cubicles, he knows that things tend to fit better into boxes. He and Annabeth have similar backgrounds – medicine, science. There’s no reason for her to accept something that doesn’t seem to make any sense.

“That’s incredible,” Annabeth says, something like wonder in her eyes. “I’d love to have a look at the prints later. Have you thought of any explanation for them being elongated like that?”

“It’s weird, right?” Will agrees, excitement growing with such an easy reception. “I’d thought of some disorder like Ehlers-Danlos, where the skin has increased elasticity, but this is extreme.”

Annabeth nods. “Maybe… I wonder if there could be an extreme manifestation of that disorder, something that’s never been documented. Or maybe some condition that would cause a rapid increase in collagen. If Nico truly thinks the murderer is accessing the victims through the ductwork… something like that might make sense, right? An extreme variant of a disorder that causes hypermobility?”

“Definitely,” Will agrees.

Annabeth’s phone buzzes on her desk. “Oh shoot, I’ve got a meeting in five minutes,” she says, distracted. “I’d love to talk more about this though, and I’d love to come have a look at the prints.”

They both rise. “That would be great. Any time,” Will says, sincere.

“Walk with me down to the main floor?” Annabeth says.

“Sure.” Will stands, following Annabeth out of the cubicle maze.

“Hey, it was good talking to you,” he says as they enter the stairwell. It really was. Will feels as if some of the weight’s been lifted from his shoulders.

“You too,” Annabeth smiles. “I always liked our chats when I was at Quantico.”

Will catches sight of the cafeteria sign as they exit the stairwell at the main floor. “Oh, meatball soup today,” he says. “I better go tell Nico. He gets grouchy when he misses meatball soup day.”

“I’ve never tried the meatball soup,” Annabeth says. “Is it good?”

“Well.” Will makes a face. “It’s –” He shoots a quick look around the lobby. “To be completely honest, it’s pretty mediocre. But Nico was so excited for me to try it the first time I just – I didn’t want to disappoint him.”

Annabeth smiles. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”

Nico’s very interested in the updates from Annabeth, and he and Will discuss matters as they take the elevator to the eighth floor, and as they make their way through the cafeteria line and then through their meatball soup. They’re in the stairwell, heading back down to the basement when Will remembers – “Annabeth mentioned that Alexandria PD checked out Tooms’ apartment, looks like it was a cover. No one’s lived there in years.”

“Well that’s suspicious.”

Nico’s quiet as they reach the basement and unlock the office. He crosses to his desk, digging for a file. “What was the address of Tooms’ apartment?”

“Um – an apartment building on Carrington Place, I think,” Will says. “I can’t remember the number.”

Nico considers the file for a long moment before looking back to Will. “I have an idea,” he says, slow.

“When do you not?” Will grins. He shifts to sit on the edge of his desk.

Nico ignores this. “103-66 Exeter Street.”

“What’s there?”

“Well,” Nico begins, “I was looking through the historical files, while you were upstairs earlier. One of the victims in 1909 was killed at 66 Exeter. Another was killed two blocks away. 66 Exeter was the address listed for one Eugene Victor Tooms in 1909.”

“Interesting,” Will says. “That’s got to be… what? A grandfather? Great-grandfather?” He’s beginning to feel the tell-tale post-lunch desire for a nap and it feels difficult to force his brain into mathematical calculations.

“Possibly,” Nico allows. “But what about the prints? Prints from 1909 are a match to the ones taken yesterday.”

“That could be genetics,” Will says slowly, though he’s not really convinced himself. “It might also explain other patterns, the sociopathic attitudes and behavior. It begins with one family member, who raises the next, who raises the next…”

Nico looks skeptical. “Could be.”

“Do you think Tooms is living in the building on Exeter?”

“I think someone is,” Nico says rather mysteriously. He stands from his desk, a familiar glint in his eye. “Wanna go for a drive?”

Will lets out a jaw-cracking yawn as Nico parks on Exeter Street. He hears Nico snort beside him. It’s a brisk, sunny day, a nice change of pace from the dim basement and the stiff tension at the murder scene this morning. Will takes a deep breath of spring air as he steps out of the car, taking a second to turn his face up to the sunlight. As much as he’s grown to love the cozy basement office, he does sometimes miss having a window, the opportunity to follow the passage of the sun across the sky over the day.

Will looks over to see Nico watching him, a small smile on his face.

“Beautiful day to solve a murder,” Nico says.

It’s a short walk up the block to number 66. The street is filled with derelict buildings, some boarded up. None look habitable. They climb the cement stairs together. The entrance to the building was probably pretty at one time, two tall wooden doors with little crescent windows at the top. Now, though, one door is missing entirely, a pane of glass broken in the one still standing.

The building is dark once they leave the front entryway and both men reach for their flashlights. Will takes a moment to scan the hallway, blinking as his eyes adjust. The place is dilapidated, but it doesn’t look to be in any immediate danger of collapse. They pause, checking the numbers on the dusty doors. Down the hall there’s a skittering; some variety of small animal, probably.

“This way,” Nico says, muted in the dusty hall, and Will follows. They near the end of the hallway and the door to 103 swings open at Nico’s touch.

It’s a small apartment, bare but for some debris around the edges of the room, filtered sunlight attempting to penetrate a dirty window on the far wall. Will crosses the room to scan a small bedroom off to the side, the smaller room in a similar state, the single window boarded up. The whole place smells sour, something rotten catching at the back of Will’s throat. He suppresses a shudder.

He can’t help glancing over his shoulder, squinting into every corner, though he’s sure the room is empty. It feels claustrophobic somehow, closing in. Will’s back in the main room of the apartment quickly, reluctant to linger.

“Nothing in the bedroom,” Will says, his voice coming back to him in the empty space.

“Look at this,” Nico says, quiet. He’s in the corner, his attention on a battered mattress propped up against the wall. He tucks his flashlight under his arm and pulls on latex gloves.

Will approaches, donning gloves as well. Together, they shift the mattress and lower it to the floor, careful not to stir up too much dust.

“Jesus,” Will murmurs, blinking at a hole in the wall that had been hidden by the mattress.

Both men approach the opening cautiously, but the floor surrounding it seems solid enough. There seems to be a ladder inside, leading to somewhere below. Nico crouches and presses on the wall around the opening, testing the integrity of the plaster. He grabs a hold of the top rung of the ladder, gives it a shake. It doesn’t budge.

Nico turns, quirking an eyebrow. “Spot me?”

Will grimaces, but takes a step closer. There’s a creeping feeling here, visceral and wrong, something he can’t quite put his finger on. He opens his mouth to voice this to his partner, despite the fact that he doesn’t think he can explain why this feels like such a bad idea. He’s well aware that “I have a bad feeling about this” isn’t scientific in any way.

But before Will can think it through any further, Nico’s through the opening, a nimble climb down to whatever lies beneath. Will hesitates, wondering if it’s more prudent to stay above in case he needs to call for backup, or an ambulance if the ladder isn’t as sturdy as it looks. But the bottom appears to be only a story below, and Will sighs, turning to follow his partner down. He finds his footing a moment after Nico, who automatically reaches a hand out to steady him as Will misses the last rung.

They pause, casting flashlight beams around the dark space they’ve found themselves in. The smell is worse down here; damp and mildewy. Something rotting.

“Looks like an old coal cellar,” Will says, low. There’s no reason to keep their voices down, not really, but, there’s a strange, pressing feeling, like they’re being watched. Or stalked. Will flicks his flashlight back on, his other hand brushing the gun at his belt, just making sure.

The smell of rot grows stronger the further in they walk, the air cool and clammy. The ceiling is low enough that Will has to duck to avoid pipes. Clinging cobwebs catch on their hair and the concrete floor is cracked and uneven. The close atmosphere combined with the stench and the pounding behind Will’s eyes is making him queasy.

At the far end of the cellar there’s a bend in the building, what looks like it could lead to a room, or a hallway, but it turns out to be more of a nook, plaster crumbling to the floor.

Nico approaches for a closer look, cautious.

“Careful,” Will murmurs. “That wall looks like it might come down on you.” The source of the smell must be nearby. Will’s eyes are watering.

“No,” Nico says slowly, looking it over. “I don’t think it’s part of the building’s structure. Someone… made this.”

“What?”

“Look,” Nico takes a step to the side so Will can approach. The sight before them doesn’t make sense at first, revealed in increments by the twin flashlight beams. But as Will looks longer, he realizes it’s a mess of rags and bits of newspaper, somehow all glued together into a misshapen structure that seems to have become part of the wall around it.

“This is a nest,” Nico says, equal parts amazed and horrified. Still clad in latex gloves, he presses his fingers against the structure. The surface gives under his touch and then slowly regains its shape when Nico pulls back. Something green oozes out. Will leans closer, wanting a better look but not eager to touch. Then, he draws back suddenly, fighting down a gag.

“It looks like – the green stuff – I think it’s bile.” Will takes another step back. “How is that – do you think someone lives in there?” His brain is fighting to make sense of this at the same time as it’s screaming at him to run.

Nico gazes at the structure, an abomination of a paper mache. “I don’t think anyone lives in there so much as… hibernates.”

Will shudders. He’s not sure he’s ever wanted to get away from a place faster. He glances over his shoulder, convulsive, feeling more than ever that there are eyes on him. “Hibernates?” he asks under his breath.

“Imagine if…” Nico takes a step back from the wall and turns to Will, his eyes serious in the dark space. “What if some genetic mutation could allow a man to awaken every few decades? And what if he could sustain himself for that hibernation period by consuming human livers?”

The horror Will’s feeling is somewhat mirrored on his partner’s face, but there’s also that familiar look of amazement and discovery in Nico’s dark eyes.

“What would - what could the evolutionary advantage be? To such a mutation?” Will asks, trying for reasonable. He’s still half-trying to convince himself that this cannot be possible. But he can’t help but think of the bizarre, elongated prints. The unidentified substance on the autopsy report. The impossible points of entry. If those things can be true, why not this?

Nico pauses, his gaze drifting. “Hard to say. I mean, longevity, I suppose?”

“To what end? And what about… reproduction?”

“Yeah,” Nico says thoughtfully, seemingly not particularly put off by having this discussion in the crumbling basement of a lair possibly belonging to a genetically mutated serial killer. “Good point.”

“In any case”, Will says. “He’s not here now, but he’s going to come back. At some point.” He glances over his shoulder again, nervous. “Can we – why don’t we get a sample from this… nest.” Will grimaces, approaching the wall again and digging in his coat pocket for a sample tube.

There’s just so much of the green gunk, everywhere. He’s more aware of it the longer he looks, seeping out in gluey drips and congealed to a brownish yellow across the surface like some kind of horrible glaze. Will carefully collects a sample, dropping the little vial into his coat pocket. It definitely looks like bile, but… more gluey. Viscous. And bile doesn’t have much of a smell. But Will feels certain it’s related. He’s not usually so squeamish about possible bodily fluids, but this one just feels so wrong.

“We need to stake this place out,” Nico is saying. sounding much more certain than Will feels. His eyes flick to Will’s, maybe reading hesitation there. “You don’t think so?”

“No, I do…” Will says, gazing somewhat longingly toward the hole they climbed through, the path back to the upper world. “I’m just wondering how we’re going to spin it so Luke agrees.”

Nico’s brow furrows. “Since when do you care about Luke’s agreement?”

Will sighs. His stomach twists again, the memory of Luke’s threats just a few hours ago. If this was any other case, he’d be more than willing to follow Nico’s lead. But he’s more and more worried about Nico leading himself right out of a job. “Look, this is bizarre, and definitely suspicious. But you know how Luke is. He’s going to want something more solid to go on before he’s willing to admit you’re right.”

Nico doesn’t answer, turned away to examine the nest. Will tries again.

“Maybe we can run some forensics first. Or present it to Annabeth,” Will says, thinking aloud. “She’ll be reasonable.” His head is still pounding and the smell is really getting to him.

“This is reasonable,” Nico says, voice rising. “Look around you. You’ve got an oozing paper mache bile nest, a secret hibernation hideout at the suspect’s last known address. How much more reasonable do we need to be?”

Will blinks, a little caught off-guard by the intensity of his partner’s reaction. Nico seems to read it on his face.

“Sorry.” Nico shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to direct that at you. I’m just – it’s frustrating. This whole case just takes me right back to when I was working at Violent Crimes – I felt like I was never being taken seriously. Like I was some kind of joke.”

Will nods in understanding. “There are more than a few dickheads in that department. Clawing their way to whatever they think the top is.”

“Yeah,” Nico says, deflating a bit. “You’re right, though. We can try to get along before we try anything else. Let’s get some forensic evidence and see how that pans out before we investigate this site any further.”

Will nods.

“Hey, look at this,” Nico says suddenly, crouching and angling his flashlight downwards. Will peers over Nico’s shoulder.

There’s the glint of metal, and when Will looks closer, he sees a row of small objects lined up against the wall beside the nest. The horrible green substance has trickled out across the floor here, seeping into cracks, a gooey line partially obscuring most of the objects.

“They’re trophies,” Nico says, horrified.

“Fuck,” Will breaths out. “Are you sure?”

Nico glances up. “Yeah, I’d be willing to bet. We should take note of what’s here and compare it with the case files back at the office.”

“Should we just take them as evidence?”

Nico hesitates. “No. I don’t think we want him to know we’ve been here, if we can help it.” With a gloved fingertip, Nico gently prods at one of the objects; a tie clip, maybe, or a barrette. It doesn’t budge, glued to the floor with the greenish-brown goo. “We won’t even be able to move most of these without it being obvious that we’ve disturbed them,” he mutters. Then – “look at this one, on the very end.”

Will squints. The trinket is larger than most of the others, a shiny gold disc. It’s cleaner than the other items, too, like perhaps it was only placed there recently. “A pocket watch?”

“Pretty sure the most recent victim was missing a pocket watch,” Nico says. He nudges it. It’s the only object that seems to be completely free of gunk. “We should be able to get prints off it, too.” He fishes around in his jacket pockets, pulling out a notepad and paper. “Fuck, I forgot my camera.”

“Oh – I brought the new one,” Will says, reaching into his own coat pocket.

“Amazing.” Nico accepts the camera, snapping a few pictures before handing the notepad to Will. “Here. Can you take dictation? Your handwriting is better than mine.” He gives Will a sympathetic look. “And then you can move a little further away from the stench. You’re looking green.”

When Will arrives the next morning, he’s anxious and underslept, his head still lightly throbbing. He’d had the same dream over and over last night, each time he managed to drift off; vague visions of a man appearing in his bedroom, watching him in the dark. It had spooked him so badly he’d had to sleep with the light on.

He gives Nico a vague wave and a half-smile when he enters the office, hanging his coat and crossing to drop heavily into his chair.

“Everything okay?” comes Nico’s voice.

Will turns, making a valiant attempt to look more alive than he feels. “Yeah. Just couldn’t sleep.” He yawns hugely.

Nico hums in sympathy. “Coffee’s on,” he says, nodding at the little five-cupper on the counter, just gurgling out the last few drops to fill the pot.

“Yay,” Will says, rising instantly and making a beeline for the pot. “You want some too?”

“Yeah, please.”

“Hey, what do you think about this?” Nico asks when Will brings his coffee over, setting it carefully in the few square inches of available real estate on the desk.

Nico taps a file. “This is one of the victims from 1939. There’s a pretty thorough description of what the victim was wearing when she went missing. No photos, unfortunately, but it mentions a bracelet – gold with two small rubies.”

Will nods, remembering Nico’s dictation yesterday. “Yeah, that sounds like it matches up. I remember a gold bracelet. Can I see the camera?”

Will scans through the pictures Nico took at Exeter yesterday, finally finding the bracelet. “Too bad the light wasn’t better,” he muses. “But this could definitely be the one.” He turns the camera to show Nico, who nods, serious.

“Hey,” Will says, flipping through the photos more slowly now. “Nolan Campbell – the victim whose mother I was talking to – she said Nolan was wearing his dad’s class ring when he went missing. There were a couple of rings, weren’t there?” Will clicks back and forth between several poorly-exposed photos. “Do you think this could be a class ring?” he asks Nico, turning the camera again.

Nico squints at it, then takes the camera from Will, turning it slightly. “Yeah, that could be it. It was kind of half-buried in a crevice, remember? It definitely had that kind of signet shape.” Nico continues to poke at buttons, trying to zoom in, grimacing at the little screen.

“God, I’d love to get that ring back to his mom,” Will says, his voice going rough.

Nico looks up, a sympathetic twist to his mouth. Will shakes his head. He really doesn’t want to get back into that right now. “Did you find any other matches?” he asks.

“Yeah, one more.” Nico sets the camera down, reaching for another file. “There was a silver ring – one of the 1909 victims. No further description – so that could match. And then I was thinking about the article you found, about the animal attack –”

“Yeah, me too,” Will agrees. “Field trip to the library?”

Nico beams.

(here is part 2 of chapter 6!)

#nico di angelo #will solace #solangelo #x-files au #annabeth chase #luke castellan #reyna ramirez arellano #rated teen #casefic #fluff and angst #still slow burning along #tw: kidnapping #my writing

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daggzandarrowsnew · 1 year ago

Text

A Little Bit of Happy

Swan Queen FF

She thought she’d finally figured the place out. Henry was unhappy at home, sure, but he wasn’t being abused. The Mayor could be a raging bitch but she could also be one of the best examples of a mother Emma had ever had the chance to see.

Like now, for instance.

Emma stood silently at the bottom of the stairs, one foot on the floor and one still resting on the bottom step with her hand curved around the handrail for balance as she took a moment to watch the two at the end of the garden without them knowing.

Henry was dressed for school, his backpack on and his homework folder in the hands he had clasped in front of him as he listened to whatever it was that Regina was telling him. For once, Emma mused, there was no anger or distrust in his dark eyes. He looked very much like the child Emma believed he probably was before his storybook came into the picture. The kind who obeyed his mother’s commands because she’d brought him up with manners, the kind who loved her just as fiercely as she loved him and with complete innocence. She wondered, not for the first time, just how much of Henry’s dismissal of Regina was more for Emma’s benefit than anything else. Looking at them now, in the quiet of the morning, a fresh day not yet ruined by outside forces, she could quite easily see a way back for these two.

Her heart fluttered in her chest - a strange sensation that she tried hard to ignore - when Regina swept a gentle hand through Henry’s hair, brushing it away from his eyes as she continued speaking quietly with him. Her other arm was crossed over her stomach as though she was bracing herself, waiting for the attack that usually came when she tried to offer her son a little motherly tenderness. Thankfully, it didn’t look like that was going to happen.

She watched for a few moments more, really savouring the image she may not get to see again, before she took herself into Regina’s kitchen and out of the line of sight. There was a reason she’d lingered in the bedroom this morning - two really but one of those reasons was just leaving and would remain none the wiser.

She was unsure of herself in all of the worst and most ridiculous ways. Should she stay or should she go?

What had happened last night between herself and Regina was wholly unexpected but, as she’d lain awake a few minutes longer than the prickly mayor, taking in everything that had transpired, it had almost felt inevitable that this was where they were going to end up.

It had started from an argument, full of fire and passion but somewhere in the middle time had seemed to slow. Frantic kisses had become soft and tender. Hair tugs, while absolutely encouraged by both parties, had become fingers threading in silky tresses, cupping the backs of heads to hold one another even closer. Things had shifted between them but Emma was completely unsure of how permanent that change would be.

It was only a few moments more before she heard the front door close and the sound of heels clicking ever closer, echoing the beat of her heart.

There was a slight pause, almost unnoticeable but most certainly a pause, before the kitchen door swung open and Regina breezed in. A pang of sadness resounded in Emma’s chest. The mask was back in place - a calculated smile and eyes that held steady but gave nothing away.

“Thank you for remaining out of Henry’s sight, Miss Swan.” She could feel it, she was about to be dismissed. And sure enough, “But he is happily unaware and on his way to school so no need to linger any longer.”

Regina didn’t even bother to look at her, choosing instead to navigate her way around the kitchen island to the fridge. She began busying herself with pulling what she needed from the shelves as Emma fought for the right response. It was bad enough feeling like she wasn’t good enough in her own head but to be let go so easily only picked at the scabs of very old wounds still not healed. “I, uh…” and had it been any other day and any other person, she probably would have already left without even thinking of saying goodbye but last night had been different with Regina…at least she’d thought so. So much so that she found herself too hurt to even argue with the woman. So she didn’t. “Bye, Regina.”

She gave the brunette one last lingering look, allowed herself one more moment to mourn the ridiculous fantasy she’d obviously cooked up all on her own last night, before she was making her way back through the kitchen door and across the foyer.

It was only as she pulled her own walls back up around her heart, certain that she would never again speak to Regina if Henry were not concerned, that the sound her name being called had her turning to find Regina standing in the kitchen doorway looking torn.

A full bottom lip was pulled between perfectly straight teeth as the mayor’s mask slipped a few inches, revealing an indecision similar to Emma’s own. As if anything could be simple when it came to them. “Would you like to stay for coffee?”

Emma couldn’t help the small smile that pulled at her lips in return as she wasted no time thinking and nodded her response. Glad to see a smile pulling at Regina’s lips that could be mistaken for something close to happy or, at least where they were concerned, as happy as they could be for now. And for now, a little bit of happy was better than none at all.

Taken from the September Prompts list currently on my page. This is number 1. Coffee Smell

If you like the look of any others, feel free to request one with any Regina ship.

#regina mills #swan queen #Emma swan #sq au #sq ff #ouat #daggzandarrows #swan mills family #once upon a time #oq ff

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hannahssimblr · 1 year ago

Text

Chapter One (Part 3)

When the year mark starts to approach and August is upon me once again I start to get angry every time he comes to my mind, because I don’t want to be this way anymore. Last September I cried myself to sleep every night over him, and then woke up in the morning to a moment or two of bliss before I remembered that he was gone, and that familiar black feeling slithered into me again. It doesn’t overcome me so much anymore, but there are still times when it does, and those are the days I’m most angry. These feelings can’t keep coming around. It should have stopped by now.

I was sent to the school counsellor in October, because my teachers were worried about my slipping performance as well as the generally tortuous air that trailed me wherever I went like a miserable spectre. At the parent teacher meeting, one of them described me as grey faced, staring out of the windows onto rainy hockey pitches for forty minutes at a time. After we’d established that I wasn’t on drugs or being bullied, the counsellor told me that breakups are hard and that I’d be fine soon. I told her that the pain of it feels almost physical, and she mused that I must have really liked him.

“Sometimes it’s harder when a relationship ends before it gets started.” She’d told me. “You’re left with the ‘what ifs, rather than a realistic picture of what was. When people break up after some months or years, it’s often for a good reason, and you can look back at the relationship and pinpoint the things that weren’t so perfect about that person, the things that you aren’t going to miss. When someone just leaves you, especially at this crucial limerence phase it’s infinitely worse. There’s only good feelings and good memories. The possibilities of what could have been have been torn from you. It’s very painful.”

“Well, yeah, it feels infinitely worse than anything I can imagine.”

“Because you’re grieving.”

“Will it end?”

“Eventually, yes.”

“Good.”

On results day, Claire and I show up to school together. We hold off going until the end of the day so that we won’t run into anybody else. It feels like we’re sneaking into the building under a cloak, hoping that nobody will see us and try to peek into our envelopes, and thankfully we’re the only ones there apart from the secretary.

“Good luck girls.” She drawls before locking the doors. “I hope ye get what ye’re looking for.”

We don’t open them until we drive to Starbucks and order coffees. We don’t make a thing of it, it’s not ceremonial to us, we just tear them open and start counting up the points.

“Three twenty.” I say.

“Two ten.”

We re-seal the envelopes and never talk about it again. I go home later and tell my parents what I got, and they greet the news with lukewarm enthusiasm. I know it’s not what they hoped for me, but it’s enough for me to get into college, so it’s fine. I bring the envelope upstairs to my bedroom and toss it into my desk drawer where I keep other things that I never want to look at again; That stolen copy of Goodnight Mr. Tom, the corner of the cereal box with Jude’s note to me, and an application form to the Berlin Academy of Fine Arts I got from the guidance counsellor and never ended up filling out.

A week later I am offered a place at NCAD. I accept.

Prev // Next

#sims #sims 4 #ts4 #simlit #sims 4 story #sims story #writing #fiction #romance #sims 4 storytelling #sims4 storytelling #sims storytelling #lucky girl part 2

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linasofia · 2 years ago

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Imagine spending Christmas with Dr White 👀

Does your muse like to share any of the Christmas activities? 👀

Thank you so much @enchantzz for this ask and the very inspiring picture. I put something together and I hope you’ll like it. Merry Christmas! ❤️

• Dr. Scott White is on duty on Christmas Eve and has to stay longer than expected due to a patient’s disturbing test result during sleep monitoring.

• When he can finally leave the clinic, he’s both tired and concerned. His young patient shows very unusual sleeping patterns.

• He arrives at your apartment after midnight and uses his own key to unlock the door.

• Your lack of response to his texts makes him certain that you have already gone to bed.

• He finds you sleeping on the couch, tucked in under your favorite blanket; the ridiculously expensive, but insanely soft one you bought as a treat for yourself when you got a promotion.

• The Netflix menu stares silently at him when he reaches for the remote.

• In the corner stands a recently decorated tree and the many lights spread a warm atmosphere. White and silver baubles hang from its branches and the room smells faintly of forest.

• He can see traces of gift wrapping on the table. The roll of green paper with golden stars rests on the floor while scissors and a wax kit lie abandoned together on your side table.

• Scott smiles, knowing how much you enjoy making pretty gifts with old-fashioned seals. He, on the other hand, is happy if he can fold the edges so it doesn’t look like a five-year-old wrapped the gift.

• Without a word he bends down to place a tender kiss on your cheek. Your eyelids flutter, and when he whispers your name, you smile in your sleep.

• He scoops you up from your couch and carries you to the bedroom. You wrap your arms around his neck and bury your face in the crook of his neck.

• While in bed you both undress and after a short detour in the bathroom, he pulls the large duvet over both of your tired bodies. You fall back to sleep in his arms.

• On Christmas Day, Scott wakes before you and decides to bring breakfast back to bed. He wants to spoil you since he ruined your plans for Christmas Eve by working.

• You wake to the smell of coffee and toast. Scott even bothered to make fresh orange juice, and as you carefully eat in bed, he apologizes once more for being so late.

• You smile and assure him that it’s fine. You know that if you want a future with this man, you have to accept his work and how it sometimes affects his personal life.

• After breakfast, you decide to take a walk down to the park. It snowed just a few nights ago, but it has been cold for weeks, and the large pond in the park is popular among skaters. Volunteers clear part of the frozen pond from snow by hand every year, a true sign of devotion.

• The Christmas stall by the pond is open, and Scott buys warm chestnuts and hot cocoa.

• When you return home, he fills your large tub with perfectly tempered water and bubbles.

• You both fit in the tub, and you sit in front of Scott, resting your back against his chest.

• Soft Christmas music seeps from the speaker in the living room. The playlist you prepared in November is finally being used.

• Scott washes your upper body, but soon you long for another type of touch.

• He cups your breasts, and you feel how his caress changes. You welcome his hands everywhere he can reach, and when your needs grow stronger, you get up and lead him to your bed.

• When you’re both satisfied, he holds you close and whispers warm words of love in your ear.

• You promised to make an appearance at your parents’ dinner and to bring Scott. It’s your first Christmas together, and even if he has met your parents before, it still feels special.

• Together you eat a quick lunch, just enough to survive until dinner.

• You let Scott drive, since he needs his car in case of an emergency at the clinic. The snowy landscape frames the holiday picture perfectly.

• Your mother’s Christmas dinner is always way too ambitious. When you look around the large table, you feel blessed to have all these amazing people in your life.

• Scott squeezes your hand under the table, as a reminder of his strong feelings for you. He loves being a part of your big family since his own is far away. Maybe next year you can both go there.

• Later you sit by the fire, exchanging gifts and cuddling on your parent’s couch.

• The beautiful bracelet you admired at the jeweler rests on your wrist. Scott is far too generous sometimes, but you admit it fits perfectly to your dress.

• Eggnog is served in high glasses, homemade sweets occupy a large part of the table, and Scott has his arm around you.

• You rest your head against his shoulder and meet your mother’s gaze on the other side of the room. She smiles back at you.

• In Scott's arms, you always feel safe. There is no other place in the world you would rather be.

❤️ If you like my writing, please consider spreading the love and reblogging.❤️

Taglist and others who might be interested: @lathalea @legolasbadass @laurfilijames @i-did-not-mean-to @enchantzz @fizzyxcustard @middleearthpixie @xxbyimm @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @kibleedibleedoo @mariannetora @haly-reads @sunnysidesidra @rachel1959 @knittastically @jaskierthelover @quiall321 @medusas-hairband @fulltimecrazy @s0ftd3m0n @emrfangirl @glimmering-darling-dolly @lilith15000 @clumsy-wonderland @theawkwardbutterfly

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed.

#christmas asks #dr. white #dr. scott white #richard armitage #sleepwalker #imagine #scott white

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helplesslyblue77 · 1 year ago

Text

Your Smile is the Sunrise, It Warms my Heart

Chapter 1: How it Began...

“WHAT?”

The shrill shriek pierced the air and you winced, yanking the phone away from your ear. Emma really was so loud.

“Emma!” you giggled “not so loud! You're gonna bust my eardrums”.

‘Sorry” she whispered, not sounding sorry at all, “I just can't believe you didn't tell me! This is big news.” you could hear her pouting over the phone.

“How dArE you forget to tell your BEST FRIEND…” she paused for dramatic effect. “That your dad is getting remarried and you're moving in with your seven brothers!!”

You sighed, kitten heels clicking on the sidewalk. “I know, I'm sorry Emma, it's just big news and I kind of forgot to tell you.”

You heard her indignant ‘Humph’ across the phone line. “Fine.” she huffed, “But after you meet them you better tell me all about it.” you smiled “Yes, Emma.” you groaned, stopping as you reached your destination.

“I'm here, I gotta go.” Emma voiced her goodbyes and you hung up, turning to the large modern mansion in front of you.

Truth be told you could really use her around for moral support you thought to yourself, clutching your purse tighter in your hand.

Emma was one of your very best friends.

You'd met in elementary school when you had been put in a group project back in the states and stuck together ever since. Your other friend Jùn Dé had joined you in eighth grade and the three of you had been inseparable ever since.

You were an odd combo, Emma with her pink hair and quintessential Korean pretty girl looks, A-Jùn with his shoulder-length auburn hair and a new girl hanging off his arm every week, and you, the loud but easily flustered girl from the states.

The three of you had made quite the picture all through high school.

You could really use one of them with you now, you thought to yourself. But alas, it was not to be, Emma caught up in a project for her Drama class and A-Jùn in his hometown for a family reunion. He groaned and moaned about it two, begging you to come with him, but had been dragged away by his brother, barely holding back from kicking and screaming.

So here you were. All alone. In front of your new house. About to meet your new brothers.

You felt like cursing your dad, too busy with his Fiance on their Cruze of the Mediterranean to bother introducing you. He had apologized, and you understood why, they were newly engaged and wanted to spend time together, but you couldn't help resenting him a little.

Steeling yourself and pulling back your shoulders, you opened the gate, and marched up the front walkway, pressing the doorbell.

While waiting you took a moment to admire the perfectly trimmed gardens. The rows of pink roses, yellow daffodils, and purple lavender painted a stunning picture. The large white fountain, a statue of Venus in the center, water erupting from her hands. You let yourself relax, this place was beautiful and so, so peaceful.

You were jolted out of your musings by the sound of a throat being cleared and you startled, face on fire, turning back to the door.

“You must be our new sister.” you nodded. “I'm Name,” you said, trying to keep your voice under control.

This was so embarrassing, your new brother had caught you daydreaming and on top of that, he was handsome. So handsome.

You blushed. “Nice to meet you, Name,” he said, once again pulling you out of your embarrassing thoughts. “Im Seokjin, the eldest.” he smiled at you kindly and you thought you might melt into a puddle right then and there.

“It's nice to meet you.” you managed. You needed to get yourself under control! It didn't matter how handsome your new brother was, he was off-limits.

They all were.

With this sobering thought, you smiled right back at him and followed him as he stepped aside, showing you into the house.

The house was large, with art pieces hanging along the walls and large vases of those beautiful flowers you spotted outside on each table. As you walked into the living room you noticed a grand piano in the corner and you almost squealed.

A grand Piano! And a concert-style one too! Your inner pianist was squealing in delight and you turned excitedly to your new brother.

“Is that a concert piano? Can I play it? Is it in tune?” you babbled out, eyes sparkling with excitement. Seokjin smiled, charmed by your enthusiasm. “You play piano?” he asked.

You nodded, “yes, I've played for a while now. Since I was 14.” he smiled again, “You’ll have to ask Yoongi, it's his.” he responded, ruffling your hair. You nodded, storing the information away for later.

A concert Piano! A Big House, and a handsome older brother!! You certainly were winning in life, Emma would have a field day.

Seokjin grinned. Your enthusiasm was adorable, he certainly was lucky to have such a cute younger sister.

“Your room is this way,” he said, leading you up the stairs and into a long hallway.

“We all room on this floor. This one is mine, Taehyung and Jimin are next. You're between Yoongi and Jungkook, Namjoon and Hoesok at the end.” he gestured to your room.

“All the rooms have nameplates on them, so it's pretty easy to tell whose is whose.” you looked up at him.

“Are the others here yet?’ he shook his head, leading you to your own bedroom and opening the door. “Jimin and Hoesok are both at part-time jobs, Yoongi’s napping in his room, Namjoon and Taehyung are both out grocery shopping and Jungkook had a school function he had to go to.”

You stepped into your room and your jaw dropped.

It was huge! Way bigger than your old room. Large floor-to-ceiling windows, covered with light blue drapes and a huge king bed.

A door attached led to another room and you opened it, practically screaming when you saw the large walk-in closet. “Is the room ok?” you turned to Seokjin. “Oh, it's perfect!” you said, excitement scrawled all across your face.

Seokjin grinned happily. “I'm glad you like it. The bathroom is down the hallway. Unfortunately, we only have one on this floor, so I hope you don't mind sharing.” you nodded excitedly barely hearing his words as you rushed over to peer out the windows, into the garden below.

“Take your time to unpack and explore a little.” Seokjin left the room, closing the door softly behind him.

❀❀❀

It took no time at all to unpack your purse and small overnight bag and as soon as you were finished you headed downstairs.

Your plan was to go back to your apartment in a few days when A-Sang came back to pick up the rest of your boxes and fully move in by the end of the week. He had offered to help you and you desperately needed it.

You owned way too many clothes.

You followed the sounds of voices to the kitchen and froze. Seokjin noticed you and smiled, waving you over.

“Name, this is Namjoon and Taehyung.” You walked over, ignoring how handsome your new brothers were, and smiled at them.

“It's nice to meet you.” you started.

Before you could continue you were enveloped by the smell of flowers as 178 centimeters of cute boy embraced you in his arms. “Taeyhyung,” he murmured, nuzzling your neck.

“Nice to meet you, Noona.” You squeaked and hugged him back, hiding your red face in his tee shirt.

“Nice to meet you too,” you said. You liked to think you were immune to pretty people.

You were pretty enough and had attracted a lot of staring. Emma was drop-dead gorgeous and A-Sang was a delicate type of sexy. You had thought you were immune. But this day was very quickly proving you wrong.

If the rest of your brothers were this handsome you were in trouble. You needed to get a hold of yourself.

Pulling your head away from Taehyung’s shoulder, you smiled at the other one, standing awkwardly by the door, rubbing the back of his neck. “You must be Namjoon, it's nice to meet you.” he grinned at you, shaking the offered hand. “Nice to meet you, Name.”

He seemed pleasant. Grinning at you in a friendly way as he shook your hand firmly. His hand was big, much larger than your own, and enveloped yours.

Jin spoke suddenly, shocking you out of your daze. “Tae, Namjoon, go put the groceries away.” Taehyung reluctantly pulled himself off your back and picked up the groceries, following Namjoon into the pantry.

Seokjin smiled at you apologetically, “I'm sorry about Taehyung, he is pretty touchy when he's sleepy.” You shook your head, smiling back. “Oh, it's no problem, Seokjin. I appreciate how welcoming you all have been.”

“It's no problem, and by the way,” he started, scratching the back of his neck, “You can call me Jin-Oppa if you want.” He could feel the tips of his ears burning. You blushed a little, “Ok Jin-Oppa, is there anything I can help with?”

Jin grinned, grateful for an escape, and nodded, “I'd love it if you could help with dinner.” he said, gesturing toward the kitchen. “Can you start the rice?”

You nodded and followed him into the kitchen, taking a few deep breaths to calm your red face.

❀❀❀

By the time you and Jin had finished dinner, it was already 6:30. You heard the door slam open and Jin smirked

“Sounds like Jungkook” he said, setting out the places. “Our youngest, he's still in University.”

“What school does he go to?” you asked, “-------- University.” you smile. “Oh, I knew that name sounded familiar. We go to the same university!”

Jin looks at you in surprise, “We have a shared class as well, English.”

You look up as you hear footsteps, eyes landing on the familiar figure of Jungkook. You smile, giving him a little wave.

“Hey, Jungkook.”

Jungkook freezes, staring at you, his face flushing an embarrassing red.

“Name.” he says, pushing his hair out of his eyes, “what are you doing here.”

You smile at him, “Surprise!” you exclaim thoroughly cheered up by the sight of a friendly face, “I'm your new step-sister!”

Jungkook stares at you, mouth open, before he abruptly turns, running back upstairs. You frown, feeling a little hurt.

Noticing your expression, Jin just shakes his head. “I'm sure he was just surprised, Name.” You nodded, “yeah, of course.” going back to setting the table. It was bound to be just as confusing for them as it was for you. You were so grateful to Jin and the others for being so kind and welcoming. You hoped the other brothers could eventually accept you as family, Jungkook as well.

The opening notes of Pretty Woman blasted from your pocket and you jumped, smiling nervously at Jin. “Sorry it's my friend.” he nodded at you and whispered a soft, “Dinners in twenty minutes”.

You gave him a thumbs up and slipped out of the kitchen into the living room, collapsing on the sofa.

As soon as you picked up the phone, Emma’s excited voice reached your eardrums.

“Name, How did it go? Did you meet your brothers? Are they hot? Are they nice?”

You laughed, cutting her off.

“Hello, Emma, nice to talk to you again.”

She huffed impatiently.

“Yes Emma, I met my brothers.” you started switching to Mandarin.

“They're all very nice. And unfortunately, the ones I've met are very handsome,” you admitted, hoping none of the boys spoke Mandarin.

You couldn't use English, you knew Namjoon spoke it fluently. It was at times like this you thanked your father for forcing you to learn Korean and Mandarin when you were yonger, your native language English.

“They have all been very welcoming.” you switched back to Korean. “And my bedroom is huge bro!”

She giggled, “girl you better invite me over STAT, I need to see those handsome brothers of yours.”

“Shush!” you hissed at her through the phone.

She laughed at you. “Anyway, A-Jùn just called me. He said he's getting back tonight. He should call you soon.”

“Done with the reunion already?” you asked.

A-Sang’s relatives were sticky and you doubted they would let him go early.

“Yeah, I couldn't believe it either.” Emma responded, “He didn't tell me why though, something about family drama.” you nodded, you should probably expect a call later that evening.

“Emma, call me on face-time, and I'll give you a tour of the room.” Emma’s shriek of delight followed you as you ran up the stairs.

#bts x reader #bts #min yoongi x reader #jin x reader #seokjin x reader #jung hoseok x reader #namjoon x reader #taehyung x reader #park jimin x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #mariannacrxss

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ahsterism · 2 years ago

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@parakosms asked: 013. — Strangle my muse. william @ michael 😌 // violent action starters

NO MATTER HOW MANY TIMES he has stepped foot in places like this, it still sends a shiver down his spine with every step. The hallways are dark and damp, lit only by the weak glow of the flashlight Michael clutches to guide his way. On the walls where it shines, he spots decorations— streamers, birthday posters, deflated balloons, crayon-covered paper plates... he only sees them from the light that catches the walls. Otherwise, Michael keeps it positioned forwards, his entire body rigid at the thought of turning to see an animatronic in a room over. Not out of any fear of what they might do to him, not yet, but the fear of what he might find with it... inside it. The pieces had taken a while to put together. Hardly long ago, Michael would have thought it a blessing to be left by his father, craving the freedom and relief he would feel without his mirror-image hovering over him. Turns out the presence doesn't disappear that easily, and relief never lasts all that long.

Delving further into the eerily silent restaurant, Michael runs his hand over his back pockets once more— a handgun tucked in one, and a lighter in the other. He found the gun where he found everything else, stashed away with journals and blueprints and everything that clued him in to all the blood on his father's hands. He can picture his father's stern expression already, commanding him to run. Michael has never been good at doing what he's told.

He finds the man in a back room, forcing the door open with another hand lingering behind, clutching the gun without revealing it yet. "Father..." is all he says when they lock eyes, the same cold, unforgiving stare that held Michael under its thumb for all of his childhood still piercing through him now. He doesn't know what William is doing back here, something to do with tampering in a place neither of them are even WELCOME in anymore. Michael is strikingly aware that he could put an end to it... he NEEDS to stop it all, but it's too easy to freeze when looking at his father feels like staring down the barrel of a gun.

"It's over. I found it. I found everything. I know what you did, and I'm not going t- ah— ah...!" Michael STAGGERS as William's hands wrap around his throat, the action so sudden he didn't have a moment to react before the air was being stolen from his lungs ( almost like, through all this time, he's been looking for the perfect EXCUSE to do just this. as if sucking every last breath of life out of him in that house wasn't enough, it's never enough for William, Michael will never BE enough for him, not until he's choking on his mistakes ).

Michael thrashes against him, but William's grip doesn't let up, squeezing tight enough for him to feel the pads of his dad's fingers pressing rough into his skin. The flashlight clatters against the ground, in favor of Michael trying to push William away from him, no success there either. With every gasp for air, it feels more like his ribcage is CLOSING IN on him, the seconds go by agonizingly slow, taunting him, taking him out, giving him something to cry about— his chest tightens and his lungs constrict, and god, Michael feels so stupid and helpless and TRAPPED.

"A- aah, wh— ... l- l'mme g- agh-" He can barely form words, trembling as he tries to pry himself free, when an instinctual rush hits him and Michael leaps for the only thing he CAN do. He shuffles his hand back around to grab the gun in his pocket, tearing it out and aiming an IMMEDIATE shot at the ground. Whether it hits his father in the foot or not, he doesn't CARE, as long as it shocks him enough for Michael to stumble backwards, banging against the nearby wall and shakily holding the gun out in front of him. "Y'r not getting rid of me th- ... that easily, not yet."

#this is fine this is fine EVERYTHING'S FINE I'M FEELING NORMAL ABOUT THIS #evil . evil ask. i made it worse i think but EVIL #✧ michael afton. ic / and through it all the rise and fall the bodies in the streets #parakosms #✧ answered #strangulation tw #abuse tw #violence tw

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eddie-van-munson · 2 years ago

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Magic Fingers (Eddie Munson x Reader)

Summary: You and Eddie are best friends and you decide to take each other's virginity. It's awkward, giggly, and perfect.

Warnings: Smut (P in V Protected/F Receiving Oral/First Times), Fluff, She/Her Pronouns, Conversation and Jokes About Virginity, Cute-Awkwardness, Brief Mentions of Pain and Blood, Cursing, Eddie Smokes a Cigarette.

(Requests are open but the waitlist is long!)

***********

"Are you a virgin?"

"Fucking Pardon?"

Eddie giggled, sitting up from where he'd been laying with his head in your lap. You'd played with his hair once a few years ago when he was pitiful and sick, and now he expected it every time he was with you, grabbing your hands and holding them to his head like it was his birthright.

He leaned forward on the couch to grab his pack of camels, pulling the lighter from his pocket before rolling backwards onto the cushions again. He kicked his feet up on the arm rest. "You heard me, Princess. Ever get your cherry popped?"

You snorted as he looked up at you, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. He put a cigarette between his teeth, closing the box before tossing it onto the coffee table.

"What do you care?"

He smirked, as he lit the end. "Hey, I'm just trying to look out for you! There's been all kinds of sightings lately, you know..."

Your eyes were incredulous, "Sightings?"

He blew smoke away from your face, "Vampire sightings, babe. They'll snatch pretty little blushing virgins like you right off the street. Suck you dry."

You hummed solemnly, "I see."

"I can picture it now..." He gestured, cigarette in hand. "You're walking to my place...it's late..."

You shook your head, smiling down at him with a roll of your eyes.

"You hear a sound!" He gasped, holding his breath for a moment, and exhaled, putting a hand over his heart. He wiped imaginary sweat from his brow. "Oh, but It was only the wind."

Amused by his theatrics, you laced your fingers through his hair again as he inhaled another breath of warm smoke into his lungs.

"You make it here safely and fall into my big strong arms."

You gave one of his curls a gentle tug at his flirting, and he held your wrists where they rested beside his head.

"But little do you know...the creature you've so narrowly escaped has been right under your nose..." His voice went quiet and suspenseful as he tapped the end of your nose. "The whole time."

There was a silence as he looked up at you. Suddenly he hissed, pulling your arm down and biting your wrist, playfully. You screamed, wiggling out of his grasp and grabbing the pillow behind you to whack him. He burst into laughs, holding his stomach as he wiped a tear from his eye.

"You asshole!" You hid the smile that threatened to split your face, crossing your arms over your chest.

He reached to put out his cigarette, batting his eyelashes at you, "What, you don't think I'm funny?"

"Oh, you're funny alright." He gave an evil laugh, pulling his knees up to sit cross-legged beside you. You gave him a little shove. "If they're looking for virgins you better watch your back, Munson. Hellfire will turn into an all you can eat buffet."

"Hey!" He feigned offense as he stood, musing your hair and strolling over to the fridge. "I'll have you know I'm only, like, three-fourths-virgin."

"Mhm, so you're like, 25% whore?"

He flashed you a grin, as if you've given him a badge of honor, "Mhm. On my father's side."

You smirked back, "Freak in the sheets, huh?"

His expression was smug as he pulled a bag of shredded cheese from the fridge. He opened it, gave it a sniff, and ate a handful of it before tossing the bag back in and closing the door. He turned to you, brushing his hands off and spreading his arms. "Everyone wants a piece, babe."

You laughed, and he couldn't keep from smiling at the sound. He grabbed a half empty bottle of wine from the counter and took a swig, not bothering to replace the screw top before he plopped back down on the couch beside you.

Your eyes searched his suspiciously as he held out his hand. "You see those sweetheart?"

You took it, admiring his rings. There was no need to really, you already stared at his hands often enough, but you let yourself run your thumb over one of his newer pieces of jewelry.

The corner of his mouth tugged cockily when you met his eyes again, "Magic fingers, baby."

You snorted, "Yeah right."

"I'm serious!" He shoved you weakly with the edge of his sneaker. "Everyone knows guitarists are good with their hands."

"Finger-banging a few people behind skeezy bars does not make you a sex god."

"Don't knock me 'til you try me, princess." He propped his feet up on the coffee table, biting his lip. "Besides, that's not the only thing on the Munson Menu..."

You shot him a look as he gazed at you with hooded eyes.

"I'm pretty good with my tongue too."

Heat pooled in your stomach. You ignored the urge to squirm as you rolled your eyes, staring down his mischievous little face until he finally laughed, sighing loudly, "Never quite made it past that though. I guess I'm not quite as desirable when my mouth isn't...preoccupied."

Part of you hurt at that, imagining Eddie on his knees for people who'd never bother to get to know him otherwise, much less consider doing the same for him.

"What about you, sweetheart? You saving yourself for someone special? Some lucky bastard on your wedding night, perhaps?"

You shrugged, laying your head on his shoulder. "Not really. Just...you know. I'm no Chrissy Cunningham."

Eddie's dark brows creased, "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

You snuck a knowing smile at his indignance. He'd harbored a crush on the sweet blonde cheer captain for the entirety of middle school, as well as the majority of freshman year. "I'm just fucking with you. I don't know. Guess the opportunity just hasn't presented itself."

You toyed with his rings, affectionately. Something about it made his heart flutter.

"It's just an intimate thing. I mean, I'm insecure about shit and I know it'll hurt...I just want to be with someone who'll take care of me, you know? Someone I trust."

He exhaled, "Shit, I get that."

There was a silence. Eddie played with a lock of your hair as you reached for his necklace, grazing your thumb over the guitar pick. "Can I tell you a secret?"

He hummed a yes, reaching for the bottle he'd set down earlier, and shuddered when he took a sip. Evidently it'd been sitting out for quite a while now.

"I always kinda hoped it'd be you."

He choked, eyes going wide as wine dribbled down the front of his shirt. It wasn't exactly the reaction one would hope for, but it made you laugh. He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, his shoulders flinching with coughs and sputters.

"Shit, Eds."

You patted his back firmly and he cleared his throat a few times as he finally caught his breath, looking over at you with big eyes, still watery from the fit, and a stain on his shirt. At least it'd been a black one. His voice was hoarse when he finally managed words, laughing, "Are you trying to kill me?"

You snorted, dragging your thumb over his glistening chin and wiping it on his sleeve. "I didn't think you'd lose a lung over it!"

"Well I'm sorry I wasn't expecting my best friend to just casually admit she has sexual fantasies about me!"

"That is not-"

"That she's been pining over me for years! Hopelessly in love!"

"Jesus Christ." You buried your face in your hands.

"That she's been longing for me to deflower her in a desperate night of passion!"

"You know what? I take it back."

He grinned the most shit eating grin you'd ever seen, pulling your hands from your face and resting his chin in your palm. "Oh, what did it, dearest? It was my fingers, huh. Had to put me to the test?"

You dropped his face, crossing your arms over your chest as you fought a smile, "You are such an asshole, Eddie Munson."

He beamed at you, "An asshole that you want to swipe your v-card."

"Edddiiieee."

"Ah, the old Cumming of Age..."

"So, this has been fun-"

"Oh no you don't!" He snagged your elbow and pulled you back onto the couch. "You can't just pull that shit on me and leave. Sit your pretty ass down."

You sighed dramatically, the corner of your mouth twitching upwards as he tugged you over to sit across his lap. He leaned back against the armrest now, and you were able to relax into the cushions with your arms around his shoulders.

He looked undeniably pretty there, though you'd never admit it to him. His hair was wild, his warm brown curls mussed and perfect, and his eyelashes cast shadows on the tops of his smiling cheeks. His gaze traced your features as he stopped to admire you for a moment.

"Why me?" His voice was surprisingly tender when he spoke. Amused and in awe.

You paused, shrugging. "Because you're you."

Eddie's chest went warm.

"I know you'd watch out for me. Take good care of me. You'd stop if I wanted you to." You swallowed thickly, "I trust you, Eds."

He stared at you, and the love in his eyes was unmistakable.

"And it doesn't hurt that you're such a pretty thing." You reached up to give his cheek a little pinch.

He blushed, and a sense of pride overtook you. You'd just made Eddie Munson blush like a schoolgirl. He wet his lips, the air thick now. He was close. Really close. "Now you're just stroking my ego."

"What, you'd rather I be stroking something else?"

His jaw dropped, "Oh shit! That was good!"

You laughed, your head tilting back against the couch, and his eyes flickered down to your lips for a moment in contemplation. Silence. Finally, he huffed, decidedly, "Here's what's gonna happen, ok?"

You held back a giggle, "Yessir?"

"I'm going to kiss you."

Your brows raised, "Oh?"

He nodded, "Yep. And If it's weird, we'll stop and we'll go about our night like nothing happened, sworn to never speak of it again."

"And if it isn't?"

He smirked, wiggling his eyebrows, suggestively. "Then you can have your taste off the Munson Menu, tiger."

Your eyes went playful, "Magic Fingers?"

He chuckled, "Well of course, angel. Along with whatever else you wish."

A smile crept to your lips as your focus traced his cupid bow, "Sounds like a good deal."

He nudged his nose against yours, mischief splitting his face, "Only the very best for my favorite customer."

You cringed, pulling back. "Now you sound like an escort."

He frowned, "What's wrong with being an escort?"

"Nothing! I just hope you're not expecting to be paid for this."

He tugged you back in, smirking, "Shit, I ought to be paying you, sweetheart." There's a pause. Eddie tucks some hair behind your ears. He can see the nervousness you're trying to hide. He lifts your chin, "Are we really doing this? Are you cool with it?" You nod firmly. "I can stop anytime you want, ok? Just say the word or...I don't know. Give me a shove or something."

He could see you relaxing a little with every joke he cracked, but in reality, his own palms were starting to feeling a little sweaty, too.

"You've been kissed before, right?"

You shoved his chest, shooting him a look, and he giggled.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Forgot you and Tommy Harding got all hot and heavy in seventh grade. Always had his tongue down your throat, didn't he?"

"He did not!"

Eddie looked up, humming as if he was considering this, "He totally did."

"You suck."

"Nah, you're still thinking of Tommy Harding, babe. He was a goddamn vacuum."

You couldn't help but snort at that one, laughs escaping you as you dropped your head to his shoulder.

Eddie chuckled, lifting your chin to make you at him again, "For heavens sake, sit still and close your eyes."

You obeyed, but whined, "Why? What are you doing?"

"This, dumbass."

Without warning, he took your face firmly in his warm hands and gently pulled you down against his lips.

And shit, you liked it more than you would ever care to admit. His lips. God, his lips.

You'd seen Eddie kiss exactly one time.

It'd been at a party you snuck into together Sophomore year. You'd lost him in the crowd at some point, probably one too many drinks on your part. When you finally caught sight of him across the room, he had a brunette pushed against a wall, her hands in his wild hair as he kissed her deep and hard.

Your stomach went tight when you saw it. There was jealousy there, sure, but there was something else too. Something warm and low. You wanted to be that brunette. You wanted that kiss.

But this kiss? This kiss was blowing that one clear out of the water.

It was curious at first, slow and gentle as he welcomed the taste and feel of you. His mouth was warm and soft. Familiar, in an odd way. Eddie...Eddie's sweet grin. You'd seen this pretty mouth flash you so many smiles and laugh so many laughs. The kind of smiles and laughs he saved just for you.

The kiss deepened slowly as you inched closer in against his chest. Finally, his hands found your thighs, giving you a reassuring squeeze as he pulled you further into his lap. You groaned softly at the feeling of his heart beating right up against yours.

The kiss broke when you remembered that you did, in fact, need oxygen to live, but he didn't let you go far, tilting your head back lazily as he left a messy trail down your throat.

"What do you think?" You stuttered, distracted. "I-Is it weird?"

He chuckled, his hot breath fanning over the delicate skin of your neck. "So fuckin' weird."

You went breathless as he nipped a soft spot beneath your ear, gasping his name weakly. You could feel his smug smile against your jaw. "Feel nice?"

"Shut up." You retorted quietly, eyes still closed. Eddie grinned, pulling your hair back to suck teasingly at the spot. Your hands laced in his curls, "W-What're you?-"

"Just leaving you a souvenir."

"I'm gonna smell like cigarettes after this. 's that not enough?" Your taunt was barely coherent as you winced at the sting of the little bruise. It felt good.

He laughed good-naturedly, lips kiss bitten when he pulled back to look you in the eye. "I'm just marking my territory."

"Marking your-? What, Are you gonna piss on me next, Alpha Male?"

He snorted a laugh as you crooned down to find him again, "You know I love it when you antagonize me."

You would've returned the quip, but you were too focused on his wandering hands moving up your thighs. You grazed your tongue over his lower lip in warm retaliation.

He moaned softly into your mouth, and it made a deep ache settle between your legs. You ignored this, trying to hide the slight roll of your hips.

Your hands laced in his hair as things grew desperate and messy. At this point, it would've been impossible for him to try and hide where he was hot and hard against your leg, so he took one for the team and grinded you against him gently.

You cursed softly, "Getting excited?"

He chuckled, his words strained, "Maybe a little."

Your cheeks had gone red, and the heat of his middle against yours was making you flush down to your tummy. You rocked in his lap curiously, "Me too."

He groaned, "Oh, trust me sweetheart. I know."

You pulled back suddenly, eyes wide, "You can feel it?"

He breathed a laugh, brows raised, "Babe, you're soaking my jeans. Of course I feel it." You buried your face in your hands, and Eddie giggled at your mortification. "It's nothing to be embarrassed about!"

Your words were muffled behind your palms. "If you have to say that, then it definitely is."

He grinned, "How did you expect any of this to go down without you getting a little wet?"

You whined, "Don't say that."

"What!?"

You groaned loudly. Eddie gave you a fond look, fighting a giggle, "Hey...I'm serious. It's a good thing. Besides, I've been poking your thighs for ten minutes now. I'd be worried if you weren't a little-" He aborted the word, remembering how you'd cringed, before. "Turned on."

"That's different." You bit your lower lip, arguing even though you knew he had a point. You'd felt him stiffening beneath you since he'd gotten you in his lap.

"How?" He leaned back against the couch, lazily.

"Because you're not...leaking!" Your ears felt like they were on fire.

"Oh, sweetheart. I definitely am. You're not the only reason I'm gonna have to wash these, alright?" You sighed, rubbing the bridge of your nose as he gestured to his pants. His gaze followed you as you laid your head on his shoulder, his nose nudging against yours. God, you could get used to this...

You bristled at the thought. No. No you couldn't. He was a friend. Just a friend. A friend whose erection just so happened to be pressing up against your panties through your pants.

He fiddled with your waistband absentmindedly, pecking your lips as he popped open the button of your pants. His voice was gentle this time, when he spoke. "Why don't you let me take a look. You know...assess the damage." He smiled playfully.

You wanted to respond, but he'd affectively stolen every thought in your head, leaving you to nod dumbly and sit back as he dragged the fabric down off of your thighs. He tossed your jeans god knows where, his eyes focusing on a wet patch of your underwear.

Eddie was glad you couldn't see it, knowing you'd be embarrassed if you could, but Christ, it was making him way too hot in his wine stained shirt. He pulled you back up into your spot on his lap, having been quite fond of it previously, and rubbed his hands over your bare thighs, soothingly. "You ever touch yourself?"

If you were red when he said you were wet, you were flaming now. You stuttered, tensing a little. "Eddie..."

"Hey, I jerk off more times a day than should be legal for one man. I'm not going to judge you for touching yourself. I was just curious if you're used to...you know..."

"F-Fingers?"

He swallowed thickly, fighting a groan at your implication. "Yeah. Fingers. Being touched. Didn't want to hurt you if you're sensitive."

You nodded, "I, um...I do."

"That's good. That's really good." He wet his lips, "Do you...rub? Or put fingers inside?"

"I rub, mostly. I've tried fingers, it just doesn't work for me. I think I'm doing it wrong." You scratched your neck, awkwardly.

A curve tugged at his lips, "I don't think there's one right way to do it."

You scoff, "Says 'Magic-Fingers-Munson'."

He laughed, voice breaking, "Now you're making me sound like a pornstar."

"I'm serious, Eds." You frowned, holding your temple. "I don't know what the hell I'm doing."

He pulled your hand from your head, "Hey, I don't either, sweetheart. A handful of good reviews doesn't mean I'm gonna know how to make you feel good. They're all different. I'm telling you. Once you push your fingers in, It's a jungle up in there." He tapped your belly, and you couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of the conversation. "Shit, you guys are so complicated. There's not one go to magic button. I wish there was." He sighed, as if this were something that caused him stress on a semi-weekly basis.

"Eddie..." You hummed, chewing your thumbnail nervously. "Are you...Are you gonna do to me...what you do to the people at the bars?" You want him to. God, you want him to.

Jesus fucking Christ. If you're asking if he'll finger you? Drop to his knees for you? Then the answer is yes. A million times yes. Especially if you promise to keep saying his name like that.

"No sweetheart." You frowned, but he kissed it away long and slow and deep, not bothering to take his lips from yours when he spoke again. "This isn't like that. 'm gonna take my time with my best girl. Make her feel real nice."

You nudged up into another kiss, needily, as his hand snuck between your bodies, fingers dancing along your glistening inner thighs. Eddie groaned as you tugged his curls, gently. "I'm gonna touch you now. Is that ok? I don't want it to scare you."

"Yes." He breathed a sigh of relief at the verbal consent, giving you knee a reassuring squeeze.

He pulled back ever so slightly to look you up and down, watching your eyes as he gently popped the waistband of your panties against your tummy, "These are pretty."

You hummed a thank you, which made his chest go warm.

"Mmkay angel. Just grab me if you need to. Tell me to stop and I will."

Even though he'd warned you, you shivered as he cupped your heat, rubbing his hand between your legs to get you used to the feeling. You whimpered quietly, allowing yourself to grind into his palm.

It made you gasp when his fingers dipped beneath the fabric, his thumb teasing your clit. You flinched, but quickly relaxed against him. "Jesus Eds, your hands are freezing."

He gave a Cheshire grin, letting you rub against the pressure for a few minutes before he pulled his hand from your underwear, sucking his fingers clean. "Alright. Bedroom."

You climbed off of his lap and groaned as you tugged him up from the couch with you. He smirked, giving your ass a little pat as you led him down the hall. "You're cute as shit, you know that?"

"I am not." You hid your blush as you plopped down onto his bed, watching him kick off his sneakers. "I'm scary as hell."

He smirked, tugging his shirt off and throwing it into a little pile of dirty clothes. His necklace dangled down from his collarbones, tickling you as he crawled up onto the mattress between your spread legs. He held your waist in one hand, dragging your shirt up over your mid-drift with the other.

"You know what, you're right. You are scary as hell, huh?" He toyed with the tiny bow that sat at the waistband of your underwear. "I mean come on...look at this little tummy...'n these pretty pink panties too? Shit..." He leaned over you, peppering his lips over your stomach as he flashed you a taunting grin. "I'm quaking in my boots, you absolute villain." He grabbed your waistband with his teeth, snapping it against your skin.

"Ow! Stop doing that!" You whined with a giggle, which only made him laugh right along with you.

You studied the tattoo on his chest as he crawled over you, reaching down to lift your head a little. He grabbed a pillow, propping it beneath your neck, "Just making sure Her Majesty has a good view..." He teased, sitting back on his knees. "This ok? You comfy?"

"Yeah." You wiggled, pushing your back up off of the bed. "Can I take my shirt off?"

He looked at you like you'd just asked if he wanted to meet Van Halen. "Are you fucking kidding?"

"Right. Stupid question."

His eyebrows jumped as you grabbed the hem of your shirt, "Wait, wait, wait!!" He jumped forward to hover over you, taking the front of your shirt in his fist, "I want to unwrap my own present."

You rolled your eyes as he pulled you into a messy kiss, your hands lacing in his hair. He broke away to watch as he took your hem between his fingertips, "Arms up."

You obeyed wordlessly, and he pinned your wrists with one hand as he gathered the fabric up over your breasts.

"Oh...oh sweetheart." He cursed at the sight, groaning loudly through pleased laughter as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. "You are a bad friend. Horrible." His words were muffled in your hair.

You laughed, "Oh God, what have I done now?"

He yanked your top the rest of the way off, and you giggled when he made a show of throwing it behind him carelessly. He gathered your hair in one hand, guiding you to tilt back your head so he could kiss down your throat. "I can't believe you have perfect tits and you've never even bothered to tell me. You've been hiding them from me, haven't you? Just to be cruel..."

"You are such an idiot." You flushed a bright, happy red, unable to meet his eyes as he sucked at your chest where it peeked from your bra.

"I've got a secret for you too, you know."

"Yeah?"

You arched your back for a moment, letting him find the latch of your bra. He fiddled with it, but couldn't get it, so you flipped over on to your stomach for him with a taunting smile. He continued to struggle, whining through laughter, "I can't get them!"

"Get what?"

"The goddamn hooks!"

You snorted, "I thought guitarists were supposed to be good with their ha-"

"Shut up and help me!"

You laughed loudly at his frustration, "I don't know, Munson...this is pretty entertaining stuff."

He growled, "Ok, you know what?"

Turning you over onto your back again, he grabbed the straps of your bra. In seconds, he tugged them off of your shoulders, flipping the cups down onto your stomach, and his hot mouth found your nipple.

Your giggles immediately cut off with a stuttered moan, squirming against the bed as his large warm hand came up to grope you. You cursed as he thumbed over the sensitive skin, his teeth grazing over you gently. His breath was hot as he buried his face in your tits, trailing kisses down the valley between them.

"You smell so fucking good." He groaned as you laced your hands in his hair, making you chuckle. He smiled up at you, proud of himself.

"You never told me your secret."

Now it was his turn to blush, "You sure you want to hear it?" His chin rested against you, and he stared up at you with big brown eyes as you brushed his bangs from his forehead, fondly.

You nodded, unhooking your bra from where it'd been abandoned against your stomach.

"You're positive? Mine's not as sweet as yours."

"I'm sure."

He pursed his lips, head bouncing as you chuckled, and braced himself, "This isn't the first time I've seen you naked."

Your eyes went wide, "What?!"

"I mean, it was like a million summers ago."

"You better be kidding..."

He gave a guilty smile, "You know how the women's locker room at the pool has that weird tiny window in the back? It's hidden in that gated area by the dumpsters so no one ever sees it..."

Your eyes narrowed, "I know that window. How do you know that window, Munson?"

He shrugged, "You went to go change and I went out back to smoke a cigarette. It was a happy accident."

He laughed as your jaw dropped. "How much did you see?"

"Oh, everything. I watched the whole time."

"The whole time?"

He crawled back up to lay next to you on his side, humming warmly, "The whole damn time, pretty girl."

You scoffed, "You absolute perv!"

"I wasn't perving! It was an act of fate!"

It was hard to be mad at him when he so clearly wanted to kiss you, but you crossed your arms over your chest indignantly.

"Oh come on, baby..." He cooed against your ears, nipping at the mark he'd left earlier. You inhaled sharply as he teased the still sensitive skin. "I couldn't help it. You were just so pretty in that little red number."

"Red number? Shit, Eds. That was Sophomore year! Mom didn't even let me wear two pieces yet. What, were my shoulders just that sexy?"

"Oh I saw a lot more than your shoulders, sweetheart."

He smirked as you gave an embarrassed groan, pulling you into a kiss.

"You know...I'd love to keep chit-chatting about this. I really would." He smiled as he tugged at your lower lip with his teeth. "But you were making some real pretty sounds earlier..." His tongue grazed yours heatedly and you gave a soft moan. "Mhm, Just like that."

He reached down between you, clumsily rubbing between your legs until your stomach started retying itself in knots.

"Messy little thing...You want these off?"

You nodded, shivering as he hooked his fingers in your waistband and pulled them down. He saw you clench your thighs, the cool air chilling the slick between your legs.

His forehead creased with concern, "You ok, sweetheart? 's not too much, is it? We can stop..." You shook your head, unable to find the words, and he smiled up at you. An Eddie smile. "Can I see you?"

"Sounds like you already have." It came out soft, without any of your usual bite in it. You were fighting to keep your voice steady.

He hummed, coaxing your legs open for him with sweet kisses against your inner thighs, "Haven't ever seen you all needy and wet for me, though, have I?"

You watched him, pupils blown as he admired the throbbing heat between your legs.

"God, baby, you're so wet for me. Gonna taste so sweet, aren't you?"

It was clear that description didn't bother you anymore. Your hips bucked a little as you choked his name, and Eddie kissed you above your slit, cooing reassurances.

"I've got you...I'm gonna rub your clit now, honey. You just tell me if you want me to stop or do something differently, ok?"

You nodded, desperately. God he looked so pretty, his big brown eyes trained on your face as he rested a hand on your lower tummy. The pad of his thumb was warm and rough when it finally pressed against your bare clit. You gave a soft sob, rocking your hips against the friction, drunkenly. He kept the steady pressure for a long while, just enjoying the sight of your body searching for his touch.

"How's that feeling?"

" 's good. It's perfect..." You gave a moan.

"You think I can put a finger in?"

You breathed a nervous yes, your eyes fluttering shut. You felt him switch hands, giving your clit attention with his left as he teased your entrance with his right. Carefully, he slid his index finger inside you.

He cursed at the feeling, his brain going dizzy. You were so pretty and warm and slick...and god, you were tight for him. He coaxed you open little by little until he could scissor two fingers inside you easily, enjoying the sound of his name falling from your lips, delicately. He pulled his hand from you and sucked them clean.

"Alright, angel. You're doing so well. Gonna make you cum on my tongue now, ok? We'll get all those muscles nice and relaxed."

You looked down at him with big eyes, breathless. "You don't have to...if you don't want to."

He raised his brows, "Do you want me to?"

"I want you to do whatever you want to do."

He grinned against your inner thigh mischievously, nipping the slick skin there. "I want to eat your pussy."

You cursed, "Please..."

"Fuck, Y/N..." Eddie gave a blissful sigh, as if he'd been worried you wouldn't let him, and slid his arms around to hold you beneath your legs, your thighs over his shoulders where he kneeled.

He laughed warmly into you when your hands flew to his hair at the first stroke of his hot tongue. His eyes fluttered shut as he moaned, the vibrations making you gasp. His tongue explored you for a minute before flicking over your clit, suckling it. Your chest heaved as he buried his face in you further, shaking his head back and forth between your legs.

The pressure built quickly as he sucked and lapped at you. You croaked his name, riding his face as he stiffened his tongue and pushed it deep, fucking you with it. He rubbed fast hard circles over your clit with his thumb, stopping for a moment to catch his breath. "I'm gonna make you cum, now. Is that alright or do you need a minute?"

You stuttered needily, whimpering soft pleads for him not to stop, but he knew better. He hushed you, pressing soothing kisses between your legs. Your breathing started to even out as rubbed you slowly, giving your body what it needed to keep the knot pulled tight in your stomach.

"That's it...that's my girl. Just relax. We're not in a hurry." You reached down to hold his free hand for a minute, and he smiled, love aching in his chest. "I know you want it, sweetheart. I'm gonna give it to you. I promise. Just gotta take it easy."

When he finally decided you'd returned to the land of the living, he kitten licked around where you were most sensitive, carefully sliding his fingers up and inside you. You whimpered, already trying to fuck yourself against his hand. He hummed against your clit, "Good job, baby. Is that too much inside or does it feel good?"

"F-Feels good, Eds. I...shit...Feels really good."

He beamed, slowly pulling his fingers from you only to sink them back in. He started slowly, still loving you with his mouth as he picked up speed, carefully. You clumsily rolled your hips, meeting his steady thrusts.

"My pretty girl...taking my fingers so well. 's it building back up?" You nodded, nose scrunching in concentration as you searched for what you needed with your hips.

"Here you go, baby." His lips curved as he crooked his fingers, making you gasp at the pressure against your g-spot.

"Eddie. Eddie..."

"It's ok, angel. I'm here. Just let yourself have it."

You whimpered his name when you came, your vision going white. His chest felt warm at the sound, and it felt even more warm when you reached for him, pitifully, pulling him into a tight, trembling hug.

"Oh baby..." He cooed, laying down on his back so you could rest your head in the crook of his shoulder.

"I love you so much." You croaked, cradling his face as tears welled in your eyes.

He held your hand to his cheek, kissing your palm. "Of course you do, angel. I just made you cum."

You laughed weakly, wiping your tears. "No I...it's not that. I really d-do...I..."

A warm smile grew on his face as you gave up on your fight for words. "C'mere, sweetheart."

He leaned in and kissed you, slow and long and precious. You were both smiling when you parted, and he couldn't help but press one last chaste peck to your kiss bitten lips.

"I love you too. I love you so much, pretty girl. I adore the hell out of you. Love you to the moon."

He brushed the tears from your cheeks gently, concern bubbling in his chest.

"You alright? Too much all at once?"

"No." You breathed, nuzzling closer against him. " 've never felt so good in my life."

He pulled back just a little so he could look at you, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. You gave a breathy giggle, wiping your eyes, "I don't even care. Laugh it up, Munson. You deserve it. That was heaven."

He laughed brightly, giving a happy sigh. He loved this. He loved holding you against his chest, his arm slung around your waist lazily. He could smell your shampoo and feel your steady breaths, his nose tucked against your hairline.

"You look pretty when you cum." He hummed softly. You could feel the words against your forehead.

You blushed, "I bet you do too."

He traced your lips, and you caught his hand, kissing his fingertips with a grin.

"Magic-Fingers-Munson".

His ears went hot as he hid his flustered smile, pulling you down into another kiss, "You taste really fuckin' good. You know that?"

"How the hell would I know that?" You chuckled as you combed through his curls. Eddie frowned realizing you had a point, but before he could reply, you pushed him down onto his back, straddling his hips.

"Oh, Hello..." He quirked an eyebrow suggestively as you snuck your face into the crook of his neck, intent on leaving him a souvenir to match your own. He moaned at the feeling, only stopping you when your hands eagerly searched out his belt buckle. He took your wrists, crooning to look you in the eye with a curious smile, "What are you up to?

Your brow furrowed with confusion, "You don't want me to suck you off?"

Eddie felt like you'd just hit him with a bus, "Excuse me?"

You sat back in his lap, "You tasted me now I'm gonna taste you...wanna make you feel good too."

His eyes went wide, "You wanna-? Oh...Oh absolutely not, angel. That's not happening."

You crossed your arms, "Why not?"

"Because, Casanova..." He pulled you down to lay against his chest, rubbing your back as he pecked your lips. "It's hard enough being actively straddled by a very beautiful, very naked girl...the same girl who had her thighs around my head not two minutes ago, might I add...You put that pretty mouth anywhere near my cock and I'm a goner, princess."

You didn't look satisfied, "I want to return the favor."

He giggled, "You already have. That strip show in the woman's locker room has been doing the trick for years." He laughed brightly at your unamused look.

"Can I at least take your pants off?"

He raised his brows as he smoothed his hands over your thighs, affectionately. "Knock yourself out, tiger."

His eyes followed your hands as you finished your work with his needlessly complicated belt buckle and tossed it to the side, unhooking the button of his jeans and sliding the zipper down. Your heart stalled as he kicked them off. He was gorgeous and soft, and you could the outline of him resting against his tummy. He watched for a moment as you stared, unsure of where to go, next.

"Y/N?" You met his warm brown eyes. It's so hard to be anxious with him. "Have you ever touched a penis before?"

He held your hand, rubbing calming circles into your wrist as you shook your head.

"Have you ever seen one? Like, in real life?"

"N-No."

He took a deep breath, smiling without judgement. "You want to see?"

You nodded, nerves twisting in your stomach. Slowly, Eddie pushed his boxers down off of his hips, taking his length in his hand. He watched your eyes as pumped himself once or twice, groaning as pre-cum dripped onto his belly. He was so pretty. God, he was gorgeous. He moved his hand after a moment, letting you study him.

"You can touch if you want, sweetheart." He encouraged, squeezing your hand. He could see in your eyes you were curious. "I'll tell you if I need you to stop."

He cursed, giving a little hiss when you wrapped your warm hand around his shaft, and your grip immediately loosened.

" 's ok, baby." He reassured, breathlessly. "Just felt nice is all. You're not hurting me."

After a moment, you hesitantly reached for him again. He was harder than you expected. Warmer...and he was soft. The temptation to put him in your mouth tripled when you felt how velvety he was in your hands. You could feel his heart beat as you stroked him, and you wondered momentarily if you'd be able to feel it inside you.

You were enamored for a moment with him, but your focus very quickly turned elsewhere when you looked up to see Eddie's eyes fluttered shut with bliss, his bare chest taking deep, slow breaths. You called his name softly and he gazed at you through hooded eyes, chuckling when he saw your smile.

"I've um...I've never been touched. Only m-myself."

His hips stuttered as you dragged your thumb over his tip, curiously.

"God, your hand feels so fucking good." His nose scrunched a little as he laughed through a moan, "Shit, you should stop."

You obeyed, crawling back up to give him another kiss. You were both completely naked now, and every last inch of Eddie's bare skin was distracting to you. You couldn't help but stare. He stared back, head still dizzy from the feeling of being touched.

"So, um...this is where my experience thins." He admitted, mentally kicking himself for feeling so fucked out from the shortest most clumsy little handjob known to man. He laced your fingers with his, kissing the back of your hand. "But I've still got you, ok? Nothing to worry about. "

You loved him so much you wanted to cry. Eddie. Sweet Eddie who let you cry into his shirt every time someone broke up with you. Eddie, who held your hair every time you were hungover. Eddie, who knew instantly how to make you feel comfortable and loved in every situation you could ever be facing together.

"I've got you too." You whispered, tears glossing your eyes. You kissed him before he could notice, and it grew messy and hot quickly with the promise of more. You were both panting when it finally broke.

"I've got condoms." He blurted out, quickly. "Wayne got me a box, like, a hundred years ago when he tried to give me the sex talk. I haven't used a single goddamn one."

You laughed, and it sounded like a little bird song. Eddie couldn't help but smile. He sat up, yanking open his bedside table with far too much enthusiasm. He fished the box out, pausing to check the date on the back.

He grinned, pumping his fist, "Hell Yeah! They've still got a year left in them!"

You snorted a laugh as he ripped one off of the chain and tore it open. Settling between your legs, he rested back on his knees as he rolled the condom on, spreading the leftover lube from the package over himself. He wished he'd had a bottle of it on hand, if only to make things easier. He wiped his hand on his stomach as he found your eyes, again.

He paused, looking suddenly nervous. "Do you still want to do this?"

You nodded, spreading your legs further for him, and holy shit, he could've died and gone to heaven just from the sight of that. He tried to reel himself in, "You're positive? I mean, once it's done I can't give it back."

"Hey..." You cooed, frowning sweetly. "What's wrong?"

He blushed, scratching his neck. "I'm scared. I don't want to hurt you."

You reached down to squeeze his hand, "Eddie...'

He looks up at your with those big brown eyes. You gave him a pretty smile.

"I always kinda hoped it'd be you."

His heart settled in his chest as he took a deep breath, mustering his courage. He nodded, pressing a kiss to the inside of your knee. "Just relax for me, ok?"

Your eyes fluttered as you took a deep breath, trying to losen your muscles for him. He dragged his tip up and down against you, watching your face so closely.

"God, Angel. You're so sweet. So fuckin' pretty. Always have been." You whimpered as his head nudged your sensitive, swollen clit. "You ready?"

"Please..." you hummed, desperate to be filled up by this boy you'd loved for so long. "Please, Eds. I want it. I want you."

He cursed softly, "Just relax for me, ok? Keep breathing nice and slow."

He watched your expression so carefully. You were soaked, your folds glistening both from from his tongue and from your own arousal, and he met little to no friction as he pressed his tip in against you.

He took it an inch at a time, ignoring how painfully hard he was in favor of making positively sure the penetration wouldn't hurt anymore than it absolutely had to. He could feel pre-cum gathering in the tip of the condom by the time he was about halfway there.

He stopped, rubbing a warm hand over your tensed belly. "How're we feeling?" He cooed sweetly, concern in his eyes as you wiggled your hips uncomfortably.

"Shit, Eds...I...'m...full. Really full."

"I can feel it too, sweetheart. You're so fuckin' tight."

The wince in his voice made your eyes fly open. Your words were a hoarse whimper, "Am I hurting you?"

"Shit, are you kidding?" He chuckled, his eyes fluttered shut with bliss as he focused on holding off the tension building inside him. "You feel fucking crazy, baby. Feel so good, for me. Holy shit...you're so soft and warm in there." You gave a breathless laugh, and he hissed. "Oh fuck, don't laugh..."

You flash him a confused look.

"Makes your muscles...spasm." His dark brows are furrowed with concentration.

He let your walls adjust to him for a minute before pushing in further. The deeper he got, the more he started to feel a slight resistance.

He bit his lip, watching your scrunched face. "Ok, princess, this might be where it starts to sting." You nodded, taking his hand. He rubbed a comforting circle over your hip. "I need you to tell me if this hurts, ok? Pinkie swear it?"

You hooked your little finger with his, and he brought your hand up to kiss it.

"This is the last bit, ok? And then the hard part is over." He reached down to rub your clit as he spoke, nearly cutting himself off with a choked moan when he felt your walls pulse and twitch around him in response to the stimulation. "That's it...That's nice huh? Good distraction?" You gave a quick nod, chasing the friction.

He continued to thumb at you as he slowly pushed the last two inches of himself deep inside. You gave a little gasp, biting your lip as your hand buried itself in his sheets. Tears stung your eyes at the sharp pain. It felt like something had torn inside you. Like he's split you down the middle. Your hips ached at the intrusion.

He was unable to tell if the whimper you gave was a good sound or not, but the moment he saw a tear roll down your cheek, he went to pull out. "Shit, Y/N...Shit, Shit, Shit-"

You grabbed his hand tightly, "No no no, please stay in. I'm ok. I'm ok, I promise. Just have to get used to it." His heart ached as he watched you catch your breath, squirming gently. "Just getting used to it...Eddie..."

You gave him a look at that was meant to be reassuring, and it kind of was, but it mostly just told him how badly you needed to be held.

Tenderly, he laid himself between your legs, hovering over you as he gathered you up against his chest. Your arms hugged his shoulders tightly as he rolled onto his back, letting you lay on top of him with his cock fit snugly inside you. Your heart stuttered as you rested there against his chest, his hands stroking through your hair soothingly.

He held you like that until the tears slowed, kissing them from your cheeks and whispering soft praises against your lips as he rubbed your back. Eventually, you sat up to straddle him, wincing slightly as the added weight of your upright body sank you even further down onto his length. He held your hips in big, warm hands, dragging his thumbs up and down your sore belly, lovingly.

He groaned softly as you felt the position out, his hand coming down to rub your clit. "That's my perfect girl."

The words hit you deep in your tummy, and you whined for him, your hips instinctively giving a needy roll. You gasped at the movement.

Eddie exhaled sharply, "You want to be on top sweetheart? Or do you want me to fuck you?"

You'd wanted to ride him. A million years ago you'd read in a Cosmo magazine that cowgirl was a surefire way to "blow your partner's mind". You wanted to blow Eddie's mind. You wanted to give him a good first time. But you also knew your trembling muscles and aching stomach couldn't handle Cosmo's idea of "mind-blowing", at present.

"I um..." Your face scrunched as you tried to adjust. "Would you be disappointed if? If I wasn't on top?"

Eddie's eyebrow quirked, "What?"

"I just...I think you being so deep is too much right now, but it's your first time too, and if you want me on top then-"

He led you down into kiss, quieting you as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders and rolled you onto your back again, kneeling between your legs. "Y/N...I'm balls deep in my favorite person ever. You really think the position I fuck your brains out in is going to make difference in my overall feelings about this experience?"

He grinned, which made you giggle in spite of yourself. "Just want to make it good for you too." You sighed, already feeling better at the new angle.

"Oh, baby...it's better than good." He chuckled, as if the pure thought that he could potentially not be enjoying this was ridiculous. You squirmed as his circles over your clit sped up ever so slightly, rolling your hips as if you were trying to fuck yourself on him. "You ready for me to move?"

You nodded, arching a little against his touches. He watched your face as he dragged his length out of you a few inches and slowly pushed back in, thrusting shallowly. He groaned at the feeling of your wet heat gripping him. Slowly, he repeated the action, and you moaned his name so breathlessly he thought he was going to pass out. "Fuck, Eddie..."

"That's it. Just lay back and take me. 's it starting to feel better?"

Your eyes lulled as you tried to focus on him, " 's sore but it's...it's good. Like 'm aching for...-"

"Cock?"

Your hips bucked at the lewdness of the thought, his tip sliding deeper against the still-sensitive spot inside you. "Please..."

"Please what?"

Your eyes had fallen shut as bliss started to warm your fingertips and toes. "Fuck me...need it harder, I think."

Eddie scrambled to think of whatever blatant turn offs he could find in his brain, willing himself not to cum right then and there. He thought of things that grossed him out...Jason Carver's cologne and cafeteria meatloaf and that drunk brunette who'd shoved her tongue down his throat Sophomore year.

No matter how hard he wracked his brain, nothing could compete against the knowledge of just how good he was making you feel. Your pretty whines would have been enough on their own, but he could feel it too. He was fucking you so well that, despite whatever soreness you might've still been feeling, your walls fluttered and pulsed around him with every smack of his skin against yours.

You reached for him, tears welling in your eyes at the sensations, and he gladly leaned to hover over you, hooking your knees onto his hips. You linked your ankles behind him as kissed you so lovingly, pausing only to whisper little praises against your lips.

He wanted to kiss you for the rest of his miserable life. You were warm and soft, and god, every time he made you laugh he felt like his heart was going to fly right out of his chest. It was over for him. It was so fucking over.

"I'm not gonna last...fuck, I'm so sorry. I'm...I'm close. I'm really close." He sobbed, his lips parted and brows furrowed with pleasure.

You held him tight, his nose nudged against yours as you cradled his face soothingly. "Cum for me, Eddie. It's ok. Cum inside me. I want to feel it."

If he had any hopes of holding out, it was gone the moment those filthy words left your mouth. He whined pitifully, burying his nose in your hair as his hips stuttered against you. You felt a warmth as he spilled into the condom, groaning lazily as you held him.

You stayed there for a long time, joined together as you admired one another nose to nose. You traced his features with your fingertip, pecking his lips every so often as he slowly came back to earth. You smiled softly when he gave another soft whimper.

"You still with me, pretty boy?"

"Physically, yes." You giggled sweetly as he blushed, unable to meet your eyes, "I'm sorry."

You frowned, "For what?"

He scratched his neck awkwardly, looking embarrassed. "You didn't cum."

"Oh hell yes I did."

"Not on my cock." He pouted, his lips gazing yours.

You hummed, "On your face though, which is arguably even better." He fought a smile, kissing you one last time before he got up, sitting back on his knees. You whined at the loss of his body warmth.

He giggled, giving a smug grin. "I'm just cleaning you up, you little brat. Sit still..." You scoffed as he pulled out, slowly. Any quip you might have had ready died on your lips when you saw a flash of panic in his eyes.

"Hey..." You sat up on your elbows, "What is it?"

He stuttered as he looked down between your legs. "There's...it's just...you're bleeding."

You followed is gaze to the spent condom. It was still wet from your heat, but the slick that coated it was pink with blood.

Eddie looked like he was going to cry, "Did I...Did I hurt you?-"

"Eds-"

"Shit, Y/N, why didn't you say somethi-"

"Eddie!" You gave a soft laugh as he finally met your eyes. "It's alright. I'm ok. That's normal, Eds. It's just a little bit of blood."

He swallowed thickly, "Are you sure?"

You nodded, "I promise. I've heard stories from friends. It's really common."

He exhaled slowly, his muscles relaxing. "Jesus, you scared me. Thought I'd punched a fuckin' hole through you or some shit."

You laughed loudly, head lulling back, and he couldn't help but smile too as he gave your hip a playful pinch. He tossed the condom and grabbed a washcloth from the bathroom, carefully cleaning any leftover mess from your thighs.

You whimpered, squirming, and Eddie grinned, "Sensitive?"

You shot him a frown. "It's just cold! Why didn't you use warm water?"

"Oh, my apologies, your highness!" You snorted as he tossed the washcloth into a pile of dirty clothes, one that'd been there so long it was probably a bio-hazard at this point, and found his boxers on the floor.

"Are you chilly?" He opened a drawer of his dresser, fishing out a shirt and passing it to you.

"A little. Why?"

He plopped down on his bed beside you, a shit eating grin on his face, "Your nipples are hard." You laughed, rolling your eyes as he gathered you in close to lay against his chest. He wiggled his eyebrows, "Maybe you're just horny, still."

You hummed as he kissed you, deepening his movements, "Of course I am. I never got to suck you off."

A groan rumbled in his chest, eyes scrunching. "You're gonna kill me sweetheart."

"Mhm, I've definitely thought about it. You're irritating as hell."

He cackled, dimples on full display as his head lulled back, "And yet you still want my dick in your mouth."

You gave a sly grin, "I'm just trying to reel you in with my womanly wiles and keep you all to myself."

"You are a brat..." He scoffed as he rubbed your back absentmindedly, sighing as he shook his head. "Can't say I didn't see this coming, though."

You giggled, "And why's that?"

"Oh babe. Everyone knows how these things go. I'm stuck with you now." Mischief played in his eyes. "I've seen it a million times. You take someone's virginity and they imprint on you like a fuzzy little duckling."

You smirked, "So I'm gonna fall in love with you now?"

"Oh, you already have, angel." He winked playfully, nudging your chin.

"Guess we're stuck with each other then, huh? Seeing as, you know, I took your virginity too." You gave him a teasing look.

"You took 3/4ths of my virginity. That's very different. You're only 75% stuck with me."

You sigh, smiling warmly. "I see. So you're only 75% in love with me?"

"Oh no no, babe." He grinned, crooning down to pull you into a sweet kiss. "I think I can spare you the extra 25% on this one."

***********

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