#like within five minutes they do not remember why pants are an issue

[ethersierra]

IT'S LIKE. IT'S SO VAGUE CAUSE DEVO EXPLICITLY REFERENCES HIS SHIRT SO IM LIKE SIR WHEN THE FUCK DID THAT GO AWAY AND HE CAN SEE HIMSELF DISINTEGRATING BUT NEVER MENTIONS IT ABOUT AMBER.

ITS. FUCKIN. SHRODINGERS PANTS

okay so. amber canonically threw out her pants after the Piss Incident, before putting on that full-body white pyramid hologram suit over her remaining clothes

and she wouldn't have been able to get a fresh pair of real, tangible pants til AT LEAST after they got back on the coriolis, which happened after all that fight and the ladder and the cyber squid fight and amber almost drowning and devo saving her

we just can't tell for sure at what point the holo suit went away

discussion/evidence here

so. poll time.

[ragingbookdragon]

Love Bites (But So Do I) PT. 2

Justice League x Reader One-shot

Word Count: 2.3K Warnings: Explicit Language

Author's Note: Aye, we're back with another Skyrim!Reader fic! Enjoy! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

It’d been close to a year since she’d joined the Justice League, and though the original members were a tightknit group, they’d welcomed her with open arms. Some of them were still wary about her, but for the most part, she was doing well within their ranks, especially when it came to being around Bruce or Hal. Given her longevity, she’d seen men like them before, known how to get along with them. Bruce she could meet on equal footing, Hal was simply a man that had to be shown who was in charge; it didn’t take much to make Hal crack under her authority, and in mere days, she had him wrapped around her fingers—Bruce too, but he’d never outright admit it to her face, or anyone else’s, even if a gun was put to his head.

She didn’t particularly fight much when they went on missions, preferring to be backup as well as their combat medic, a job she did well. She’d sewn up most of them without a blink of an eye, and while the first time she sewed Bruce’s wounds up, Clark and Diana stood beside to watch in case she tried to feed, they quickly learned, not only through her own comment but also his, that she wasn’t going to harm anyone.

Barry liked her. Or at least he enjoyed speaking with her. He found her ten thousand years of experience interesting, the history of her life, the survival of it. They’d spent hours talking about the past, hers and his from going back in time often. She enjoyed puzzling the poor scientist with magic. Barry wasn’t one to follow the whole “It’s magic” sermon; he wanted scientific evidence, hypothesis and experiments to prove how sparks, fire, and frost flowed from her fingertips like water. How natural it was for her as if it were like breathing.

She liked Barry. Liked to help him through personal issues. Her many years had given her experience in most subjects of life. Spurned lovers, betrayal of friends, death, life, all of it. There wasn’t anything she couldn’t help with, the League had come to find out. Sometimes, she even helped, and she didn’t even realize it.

***

It was one of the routine meetings for the month; she sat next between Diana and Hal, trying to focus on the words coming out of Bruce’s mouth but all she could hear was the quiet rumbling coming beneath them. What was she hearing? A broken pipe in the ceiling? Air hissing from a crack in a window, perhaps? No, it seemed to be coming from the table. But what was it? Nothing was shaking the foundation. What—

“(Y/N), is something wrong?”

She cocked her head up, realizing she’d pressed her face to the table in hopes she could listen closer to the noise; clearing her throat, she felt the eyes of the group on her. “Apologies,” she excused. “There’s…there is something I keep hearing under your voice. It’s…distracting.”

Her eyes found Clark’s. “Listen for a moment and see if you can hear it.”

They waited, everyone holding their breath, and when the rumbling came again, her eyes widened. “See! That! What is that!”

Clark held his hand up to say wait and she fell silent, letting him listen of for a few more moments, and then he cracked a smile and laughed.

“What? Why are you laughing?” she questioned. “What is it?”

“It’s Barry’s stomach,” he chuckled, nodding at the Speedster who suddenly flushed.

“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t know you guys could hear it.” He laughed nervously. “It’s past my usual snack time so I’m really hungry.”

“I’ve got you,” Hal replied, digging in his bomber pocket to pull out a candy bar. “Snickers?”

“Ooo!” Barry chirped, taking it from him with a, “Thank you. I forgot to pack snacks when I left the house today.”

“Bar, one day, you’re gonna keel over from hunger because you forget. I swear, your memory is just as bad as your lateness.”

“God, don’t remind me,” Barry snickered.

(Y/N) hummed, eyes lingering on Barry for a moment before she turned to Bruce. “Sorry for the interruption. Please, continue.”

Bruce didn’t skip a beat, but she kept the thought of Barry in the back of her mind.

***

A couple hours later, the meeting had ended, and she caught up with Barry and Hal as they left. “Barry, a moment of your time, please? There’s something I wish to discuss with you.”

Hal waved the two off and continued to the Zeta tubes, leaving them and Barry smiled, “What’s up, (Y/N)?”

“How often do you eat?”

Hello left field with that question.

“I—what?”

“Consuming sustenance,” she reiterated. “How often do you do it?”

Barry shuffled on his feet, scratching at the back of his head. “Well…my metabolism burns through food like Hal does jet fuel.” He saw her cocked eyebrow and unimpressed look and immediately said, “I need to eat roughly 4.8 million calories a day.”

Her eyes went wide and for a moment she simply gaped at him, then she recovered and shook her head. “Divines, you eat a lot of food.”

“Yeah,” Barry chuckled. “Only downside of being a Speedster besides seeing the world in slow motion.”

“Forensic scientists make between forty and one-hundred-thousand a year. Is it possible for you to afford the nutrition you need to adequately feed yourself?”

Just like that, she hit a sore spot because Barry stilled, a remarkable feat, and his cheeks tinted red; she heard the stutter in his heart rate, noted the way he looked around uncomfortably. “I…Bruce…helps me sometimes.” He shifted nervously. “High calorie protein bars are the easiest to manufacture in massive quantities. I need them most nights.”

“So, you can’t afford the amount of food you need?” (Y/N) hummed, eyes narrowing as she brought her hand to her face, rubbing her chin thoughtfully. “I’m going home for the evening,” she suddenly blurted out. “Come back here tomorrow around the same time. I’ll have something for you that will help with your food shortage.”

As she walked off, Barry grabbed her arm, pleading, “Wait, (Y/N), don’t. I can’t take money from you.”

“I never said anything about money,” she corrected, removing his arm. “I merely said for you to come back, and I’ll have something for you.” She winked. “Relax Barry. I’m not going to tell the world your secrets.”

***

He stood in the center of the area where he was supposed to meet (Y/N), had been standing there for an hour, but then again, she was only fifteen minutes late and he forty-five minutes early. Barry glanced at his watch when a buzzing started in his pocket; he pulled his phone out and saw her caller ID, lifting it to his ear. “Hello?”

Barry! Sorry for calling late. That thing I’m looking for is taking a bit longer than I expected it to. Do you think you could come to my home in Gotham? I’ve already called ahead and let Bruce know you’d be in city limits.

“Oh, yeah,” he answered. “I’ll be right there.”

Good! Travel safely!

It’d taken him all of ten seconds to get from the Watchtower to her house and Barry almost shit his pants when he saw it. It reminded him of Hagrid’s house but slightly wider and with multiple conjoined buildings to it. He walked up to the front door, hyping himself up to grab the brass doorknocker that resembled a demonic skull. When he knocked on the door, nothing happened, then the locks flipped and it opened, creaking on its hinges like a cheap eighty’s horror film, but it did the trick because Barry was scared out of his mind when all he saw was a darkened room lit up only by a candle holder on a table in the middle.

“I’m in the back!” a voice called from inside. “Fang is coming to greet you! He’s bringing Nevermore!”

Nevermore was the bird. He remembered that one, but who was Fang?

His question was answer by a giant mastiff came bounding from an opening to the hallway and Barry almost jumped a foot in the air; it looked terrifying, but he merely whined and shoved his head into Barry’s palm, waiting to be scratched behind his ears.

He relented, giving Fang a good ear-scratch, and smiled as Nevermore hopped up his arm to sit on his shoulder.

“Hungry!” he croaked. “Want snacks!”

Barry dug around in his pocket, finding a half-eaten granola bar. “Granola?” he offered, holding up a piece and Nevermore swiped it with a quick snap of his beak.

“Come in!”

“(Y/N), where are you?”

“In the back!” she called. “I told you that already!”

“I meant where!” Barry laughed, coming to the hallway. It split down two sides, one going to the right the other left. The right opened to what looked like a studio. The left went down and had two doors on the wall, what were bedrooms, and at the end of the hall was a study.

“Bedroom!” she answered, and Barry walked down the left, stopping at the second door that was creaked open.

He saw (Y/N) laying over her bed, digging for something on the opposite side away from him. “(Y/N)?”

“Come in,” she said, listening to him walk around to see her. “I forgot I shoved this underneath her a long time ago when I was cleaning things out.”

“How long is a long time ago?”

“Hmm…American Revolution? Give or take a decade or so?” she waved it off, pulling out what looked like an antique drawstring bag, about the size of a dinner plate; she held it up and patted the bed beside her with her free hand. “This is going to solve all your food problems,” (Y/N) announced, watching him sit down.

“Uh…how so?”

She placed it in his lap. “Think of your absolute favorite snack food. Chips or cookies or something.”

He did.

“Now…reach into the bag and pull it out.”

Barry’s brows furrowed as he reached in the bag, and she knew he’d found them because his eyes went wide, and he pulled out a snack pack of cookies. “What the—”

“Magic food purse,” (Y/N) explained. “Found it one day when I was exploring.” She took it back and reached into it, pulling out a thin tray of expertly wrapped sushi. “It’s really helpful when you’re traveling and can’t carry massive amounts of food around with you.”

Barry watched her pop one in her mouth; he knew damn well that sushi wasn’t in there when he reached inside. He swiped the bag from her and opened it, peering inside, but all he saw was a dark, stretching expanse. “That’s not possible,” he breathed. “There’s nothing in here.”

“It’s magic,” (Y/N) snorted, reaching in to pull out a frosted chocolate cupcake. “Anything you can imagine eating or drinking? It will come out.”

“That’s not scientifically possible!” Barry stressed, trying to shove his head into the bag. There had to be some gimmick to it. A transporter! Something!

“Why is it so hard for you to accept that some things in this universe can’t be explained by science?” she stared at him. “For Divines’ sake, Barry, your best friend is a man who wields a magic ring. You run faster than the speed of light.”

“There’s science behind some of that!”

“Not much.”

“But there is science! Here—there’s nothing!” Barry was having a crisis. “I don’t know how this works. I don’t understand.”

(Y/N) smiled and folded the bag up, gently stowing it in Barry’s jacket pocket. “It’s not about understanding, Barry, it’s about accepting that there are some things you won’t ever understand.” Her eyes crinkled at the edges. “That bag will never run out of magic. You can think all the food and drinks into existence and never run out of food again.”

She reached up and cupped his cheek. “No more high calorie meal bars unless you have to eat them. No more worrying about putting money aside to make sure you have enough to eat. No more relying on others to keep yourself from going hungry.” (Y/N) whispered comfortingly, “No more fear. No more worries.”

Barry felt the lump rise in his throat. He’d never admitted it, not even to Hal, but he worried constantly about keeping fed. Worried that money wouldn’t come in, that he’d go hungry, that something worse would happen. All the nights he’d laid in bed and had to roll over on an empty stomach because he couldn’t afford to buy more or eat what he’d planned for tomorrow then. All the skipping meals, all the exhaustion, all the worry. Gone in moments.

He felt her thumb under his eye, and he looked into her umber ones, seeing her smile softly as she wiped away another tear. She didn’t say anything, merely gazing at him and Barry leaned into her palm, reaching up to cup her hand closer to his cheek. “Thank you,” he managed through the lump in his throat. “I don’t know how to repay you for—”

“Shhh,” (Y/N) hushed, pressing her thumb to his lips. “There’s nothing to repay anyone for. I did this for you, Barry, not so you’d owe me.” She pulled away from him and rose from the bed, looking back. “Now, if you’d like a moment to yourself, I understand. But I was planning on making dinner. Would you like to stay the night?”

“You don’t mind?” Barry asked. “I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

She glanced over her shoulder with a wink, flashing those pretty white fangs in a smile as she flirted, “Stay all you want, Barry. I won’t bite…yet.” She left Barry in the room, heart pounding in his chest, but not from fear—from excitement and anticipation.

[kissinginkitchens]

You Bring Me Home—Chapter Ten: When it Rains

a/n: hi besties!! This one is... tough I’m ngl to y’all. It is the second to the last chapter which is so wild to think about, but alas all good things must come to an end. Hopefully you don’t hate me too much by the end of it but feel free to vent in my inbox :))) much love, Mel <3

Pairing: Hawai’i!Harry x Original Character (Halani <3)

Warnings: swearing, some suggestive humor, ANGST (!!)

Word Count: 7.4 k

catch up on parts one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, and nine

“Is that my shirt?”

“No,”

Alani squints at the cartoon bee printed on Harry’s white t-shirt and crosses her arms in disbelief. 

“Yes it is! I’ve been looking for it everywhere,”

“Don’t worry, you can have it back soon,” he admits, crawling back into his bed with an apologetic kiss to her pouting lips. “Doesn’t smell like you anymore,”

“Thief,”

Harry scoffs and props himself up on an elbow. “Don’t act like my Spice World jumper isn’t hanging at the foot of your bed right now,”

“You left it there,” Alani defends. “I was merely being kind and looking after said hoodie because it was abandoned by its owner,”

“Oh yeah and you’ve fought real hard to reunite us,”

“Can we get back to the main issue at hand? Which is that I’m kinda pissed off that you look better in that shirt than I do.”

Harry chuckles to himself and presses an affectionate kiss to her temple. “You’re too kind.”

Alani rests her cheek against his chest and listens to the rain pattering harshly against the window, admiring the flashes of lightning that illuminate the dimly lit room. Harry had convinced her to stay the night, worried about her driving home alone in the storm, and he was met with very little resistance. Secretly, he thanks the rain gods for allowing him another night to hold her close. 

********

“H, you gotta tell her,” Jeff had warned the previous night. “I already pushed the flight back a week—”

“I know,” Harry huffed. “I just need a little more time.”

Jeff sighed, rubbing his tired eyes with the heels of his hands. “You have until this weekend when we go away with the girls. One week in Maui, and then it’s back home. I’m sorry.”

********

Harry’s stomach turns remembering the conversation, but he decides to push all the nagging thoughts to the back of his mind and focus on the present. 

“You all packed?” he asks, trailing his fingers up and down her arm. 

Alani drapes her leg over his hip and nods. “Been packed since last week.”

She had been ecstatic the day after Mila and Chad’s wedding when Harry invited her to tag along on the couple’s trip with Jeff, Tom, and their significant others. His eagerness to include her in his friend group was not only reassuring, but exciting. It felt like their lives were coming together, even more so after she had introduced him to her parents. They, of course, had adored him and quickly given their seal of approval. While Alani knew that it was ultimately her choice, it still felt good to have support from the most important people in her life, and she hoped to win his friends over just as easily. Harry, on the other hand, had no doubts that she would fit right into his chosen family. Her name had been cautiously dropped during a weekly FaceTime call with his mother and sister, and he was overjoyed when they enthusiastically grilled him for details. 

What Harry was less sure of, however, was how Alani would react upon hearing that his vacation was up and that he would be headed back to L.A. in a week’s time. It was still early in their relationship and an indeterminate break seemed less than ideal. He had tried to convince both Jeff and the label that he could finish the album in Hawaii, but the same couldn’t be said for Jeff Bhasker, Mitch, Tom, and his new bassist, Adam, who all had families waiting for them back on the mainland. It was too risky personally and financially, so Harry reluctantly negotiated one last week to persuade Alani that a long-distance relationship wouldn’t be a death sentence. 

“What d’you wanna watch?” he asks, sitting up against the headboard to turn on the T.V. 

Alani sighs and settles deeper into his side. “When Harry Met Sally,”

“But it’s not Christmas or New Year’s,”

“So?”

“So,” Harry explains. “We have to wait ‘til the holidays, wouldn’t be right otherwise,”

Alani scoffs and peers up at him with a judgemental look. “So I guess Serendipity is also out of the question?”

“We’ll have all Christmas to get through that list, darlin’,”

Her stomach flips at his suggestion of their future holiday plans. Privately, she had wondered about such things, as well, including what gifts she might get him or where they would spend the holidays. Though still months away, it suddenly felt within reach. 

“Fine,” Alani softens. “The Notebook,”

“And let you drool over what’s-his-face?” Harry pokes. “No fuckin’ way,”

Alani pinches his side and sits up. “Would you stop being insecure about that? I’ve already told you I was just kidding that time,”

“Yeah well, it still stings,”

“Why don’t you tell me your celebrity crush? You know, so I can be totally fine about it because it doesn’t mean anything,”

Harry shrugs, the corners of his lips turning into a playful smirk. “Don’t have one,”

“Liar,”

“M’serious,”

“Why, because you’ve already dated them?”

“Hey,” Harry pouts. “That was a bit snippy,”

Alani’s muscles tighten. She hadn’t realized that his dating history was a sore spot, but she takes a deep breath and plants a sweet kiss to his jaw as an offering of peace. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,”

“S’alright. Truce?”

“Deal,”

“Jennifer Aniston,”

“Huh?”

“My celebrity crush,” Harry explains shyly. “When I was younger,”

Alani giggles lightly. “I see. Good taste, she’s hot,”

“Don’t tell me you’re gonna leave me for her too,”

“I just might,”

“Can’t say that I blame you,”

“Look I know this is a cute little bit we do,” Alani sits up, her gaze dead-set on Harry’s to communicate the seriousness behind her words. “But I just want you to know that I feel so lucky to be with you. I’m not going anywhere any time soon,”

Harry swallows harshly. It was everything he’d ever wanted to hear and it kills him that he can’t return the sentiment with full honesty. A little less than a week is all he has to prove that even though he physically has to go, his heart will remain wherever Alani is. “Me either,”

Another round of thunder booms outside and the lights fizzle out, leaving the room completely dark save for the intermittent flashes of lightning that gently illuminate the room. 

“So much for watching a movie, huh?” Alani sighs. 

“I think I know some other ways we can keep ourselves entertained.”

********

Harry sets a steaming cup of tea down onto the table in front of Alani and she looks up from her tube of nail polish curiously. Harry flashes a dimpled grin in her direction and whistles a familiar tune, one that she had heard in the studio when he was busy doing his Bob Dylan impression. 

“What’re you singing?”

“Hm?”

“The song,” she clarifies. “You were singing it the other day, what is it?”

Harry serves her plate of hash browns and shrugs. “Dunno, just a little tune ‘ve been workin’ on,”

“It’s nice,”

“Thanks, sweets,” he offers, setting her food down and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. 

“Hey Alani,” Jeff interrupts, stepping into the kitchen with his cellphone pressed to his shoulder.

“Glenne wants to know if you’re okay with her setting up a spa thing for you guys,”

"Yeah, definitely,” Alani perks up. 

“Cool, thanks.”

“Look at you,” Harry teases, taking a bite of his toast coated in strawberry jam. “Minglin’ with the girls,”

“They’re not even here yet,” 

He scans over her appearance and his brows furrow, hit with the sudden realization that she’s dressed in formal attire. 

“What’s with the fancy outfit”

“I have a meeting, remember?”

“With?”

Alani blows on her freshly painted nails and holds up her other hand for Harry to do the same. 

“My senior advisor. We’re going over my research project,”

Harry’s brows raise. “Smarty-pants,”

Alani had scheduled her meeting with Dr. Hudson months ago and had, truthfully, forgotten all about it until she had received a courtesy email the day prior. She had been working on her proposal in the spare minutes she had away from Harry, which were few and far between, but she knew the initial meeting would be much more casual. Alani checks the time on her phone and stands quickly when she realizes that she is supposed to meet Dr. Hudson in  less than thirty-minutes. 

“Gotta go,” she offers, shoveling potatoes into her mouth and grabbing her bag. 

Harry ceases blowing on her nails and kisses the back of her hand before sticking out his lips for a kiss of his own. “Good luck, darlin’. Meet me at the studio after?”

“Sure thing, sunshine. See you later.”

********

“How did the Joni Mitchell piece go? You never told me,” Dr. Hudson questions, taking a sip of her coffee. 

Alani offers a shy smile and toys with the hem of her skirt. “A flop,”

“Just one more closer to the winner,”

“Yeah,” Alani sighs, stirring her smoothie. “Maybe it’s time to move on from that,”

The professor shoots her a disapproving look and sets her drink down. “Alani—”

“I just think maybe there’s more realistic—”

“You are not giving up,” Dr. Hudson reassures her. “You’ve come too far and you’re a terrific writer. One of the best I’ve ever had the pleasure of teaching. These things take time,”

Alani nods gently, her lips pursed in a tight smile. “Thank you, that really means a lot,”

“What are you working on right now?”

Absolutely nothing, Alani thinks, but then she remembers the half-written article about Harry sitting in her files. 

“A short piece about… a local musician,”

Dr. Hudson’s brows raise, intrigued, and she nods. “That sounds interesting. Definitely more personal,”

You have no idea. “Thanks. I mean, it’s not really anything—”

“I’d love to read it when you’re finished,” the professor continues. “What’s the scope?”

Alani thinks, trying not to give too much incriminating detail about her subject or their relationship. 

“Well,” she starts, hesitant. “He’s writing new music and working on his first album. I guess I kind of want to follow his journey and redefinition of success in the music industry,”

Dr. Hudson hums. “I love it. Send me a draft.”

Alani swallows and takes a minute to consider the offer. Surely there couldn’t be anything wrong about sharing her work privately with her advisor. She had been so excited about the potential of the article when it was first started, but it had since been neglected like so many of her other rejected pieces. Starting again seemed exciting, and she knew that Harry would be pleased to play such an important role in making her dreams come true. That had, after all, been the initial terms of their agreement. 

“Okay,” Alani accepts. “I will.”

********

Harry draws out the last note and Mitch lets the chord ring between them for a moment. 

“I think that’s the one,”

“Yeah, I liked that progression better,”

“Hope you got that, Bhasker,” Mitch calls to Jeff in the sound booth, who gives a thumbs up in response. 

Harry continues humming, his head still bobbing to the tune, when he hears the studio door creak unpleasantly. His eyes shoot up to find Alani wincing and timidly stepping into the room. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt,”

He softens and beckons her over. “Never an interruption, sweets,”

Alani slots herself between his legs and wraps her arms around his neck, giving a gentle peck to the tip of his nose before pressing their lips together.

“How’s the weather?”

“Just got a lot sunnier,”

“Meeting go well?”

She nods and twists a lock of his chestnut hair between her fingers. “Yeah, actually,”

“Then we should celebrate!” Harry perks up, peppering a kiss to her cheek. “Dinner, wine, movie, the whole shebang,”

Alani frowns, thinking back to the article she promised Dr. Hudson. “Hmmm, raincheck?”

Her boyfriend deflates. “You’re ditching me?”

“Just for one night,” she explains, pulling him closer. “I wanna finish up some school stuff before our trip. Otherwise I won’t be able to give you my full attention,”

Harry pouts, but he nods understandingly. “‘Kay,”

“I’m sorry, sunshine. I’ll miss you tons,”

“Ditto, sweets,”

Alani presses her forehead against his and her fingertips wander through the growing curls at the nape of his neck. “Please don’t be upset,”

Harry smiles warmly and smoothes his hands up and down her back. “Never, m’love. Could never be upset with you,”

“Promise?”

“Promise,” he nods, planting a sweet kiss to her lips. “Hey, I wanna play you somethin’,” 

Alani grins and pulls back a bit to read his expression. “Let’s hear it,”

Harry grabs the guitar next to him and slings it over his shoulder before adjusting the capo. The song starts sweet and gentle, his voice light to match the tune. 

And oh we started 

Two hearts in one home 

It’s hard when we argue 

We’re both stubborn I know, but oh

Sweet creature, sweet creature

Wherever I go, you bring me home 

Sweet creature, sweet creature

When I run out of road, you bring me home 

Alani watches in awe as he pours so much emotion behind every word, his vocals effortlessly powerful and rich. She claps when the song finishes and leans in for a kiss. 

“I love it,”

“S’not finished yet,” Harry shrugs, still fiddling with the strings. “Just the chorus right now,”

“Will you teach it to me?”

His brows raise in surprise. “You play?”

“No,” Alani admits. “But I have a feeling you’re a good teacher,”

“Well, let’s see what you got,”

Alani turns and Harry props the guitar in her lap, his arms wrapping around her as he guides her into the right position. His left hand demonstrates the beginning chord and she replaces his fingers on the fretboard to try for herself. She strums and the beginning note resonates in near-perfect pitch. 

“Hey,” Harry beams. “You’re a regular Hendrix,”

He continues positioning her fingers over the right spaces and letting her strum, humming the lyrics softly into the shell of her ear. 

“We don’t argue that much,” Alani defends playfully. 

Harry chuckles and kisses her temple. “Maybe not, but we’re really good at makin’ up.”

“Easy, Styles.”

********

Harry: Hungry?

Alani peels her eyes away from the computer screen and reads the message lighting up her phone. 

Alani: Not really

Harry: …

Harry: oh 

She laughs and pads over to the window. Sure enough, Harry holds up two bags and flashes a cheesy grin down below. 

“Need a study break?”

“I’ll meet you at the door.”

Harry makes himself comfortable in the middle of her bed and unpacks the bags. 

“I’ve got a California and a spicy tuna for my favorite girl,” he announces. “With a side of eel sauce,”

“And the world's best boyfriend goes to Mr. Harry Styles,” Alani grins, taking a seat next to him. 

He smirks and pulls out his own order of miso soup and sushi. “How’s the homework comin’ along?”

“Not too shabby,”

“Glad to hear it,”

“Hey, what time do I meet you at the airport tomorrow?” she asks, dipping her roll in the sauce. 

Harry freezes and turns to her with confusion written all over his face. “I’m sorry, did my girlfriend just insinuate that we’re not leaving for the airport together?”

“I really need to finish this,” Alani explains. “It’s almost there,” 

“Two nights?” he complains. 

Alani nudges him with her shoulder and shakes her head. “We’re gonna be spending an entire week together, non-stop. You’re gonna get sick of me,”

“Never,” Harry rebuts. “Not possible,”

“Just one more night,” Alani bargains. “Then I’m all yours, no interruptions.”

He nods and takes a sip of his soup. “Alright, deal.”

You have to tell her, Jeff’s voice rings in his mind. 

********

The airline stewardess ushers Harry and Alani to their seats while Scott and Miles settle down a few rows behind. She didn’t know exactly what to expect from first-class, but suddenly the perks of having a famous boyfriend increased tenfold by the sight of their luxurious accommodations.

“Wait, what are you doing?” Alani asks while Harry hovers over his chair. 

“Sitting, or I was about to,”

“And you’re not even gonna offer rock-paper-scissors for the window seat?”

Harry shakes his head with an amused chuckle. “No because I already know that you’re gonna get up to pee every five minutes,”

“Not true,”

“It is too true and it’s exactly why we can’t cuddle while we fall asleep,”

“Or maybe the reason is because I’m claustrophobic and I just don’t wanna hurt your feelings,”

Harry frowns. “Really?”

“No,” Alani admits, taking the aisle seat. “I just said that so you’d give me the window,”

“Get up, we’re switching,”

“Thank you, sunshine! You’re the best,”

Harry slumps into his new chair and crosses his arms. “Forty-five minutes and we’re already fighting like an old married couple,”

“Oh really?” Alani smirks. “Is that what old married couples argue about? Who gets the window seat?”

“And leaving the toilet seat up, going antique shopping—” 

“—What old married couples have you been hanging out with—?”

“—Picking up the kids from school,”

Alani presses a kiss to his shoulder and rests her head in the crook of his neck. Her eyelids are still heavy from staying up the night before, but her article was completely finished and sent off to Dr. Hudson just like she’d promised. Now, she could enjoy her vacation free of any worry or obligation, completely focused on the perfect boy still rambling next to her. 

“But, obviously I mean that doesn’t count, right?” Harry asks, craning his neck and smiling softly when he sees that his girlfriend has already dozed off. He kisses the top of her head gently and lets his own eyes flutter close with a deep, contented breath. 

********

“And then I’ll have to repaint it, but I haven’t decided on a color yet,” Glenne explains to Alani as they stroll through the airport. 

Alani hums. “It was your grandmother’s?” 

“Well, it was somebody’s grandmother’s. We picked it up at this little antique shop in Santa Monica.”

Jeff escorts Glenne into the shuttle car while Harry and Alani share a knowing look and stifle their laughter. They shuffle into the back seats as Tom and his wife, Jenny, claim the middle row. 

“So you’re a journalist?” Jenny asks, turning in her seat eagerly to face Alani. 

“Not quite,” she explains with a polite smile. “Still a student, but hopefully someday,”

Jenny nods and twirls the ring around her finger. “Sounds exciting. Maybe you can hitch a ride on tour with this one and do some writing there.”

“Yeah,” Alani smiles, settling further into Harry’s side. “Maybe.”

The idea of traveling the world with Harry and being a part of the excitement of touring the album was something she had considered briefly, but hadn’t allowed herself to fully indulge until this moment. It was already thrilling to see him polish the songs he had begun during his trip, but she could only imagine how much more special it would be to see him perform them for the rest of the world. A twinge of jealousy sparks at the thought of having to share any part of him with the public, but Alani knows that his gifts are much too special to keep all for herself. Harry was golden and he deserved to shine in all of his radiant glory. That was exactly what she had penned in her article, and she said it not because he was her boyfriend and there were clear personal investments, but because she knew it was true even before he had shown any romantic interest in her. 

“What’s tour like?” Alani pipes up as Harry watches the landscape out his window. 

He considers it for a moment and clears his throat. “Fun, mostly. Can be tiring,”

“Lots of partying and adoring fans?”

“No,” he chuckles to himself. “Not so much the partying. Enthusiastic fans, sure,”

Alani narrows her eyes. “No partying?”

“Nope,” Harry reiterates. “Don’t really like to do all that stuff when I’m working. Also just didn’t wanna…”

He trails off and Alani waits a beat to see if he’ll continue. “Didn’t wanna?”

“Fuck it up,” he finishes. “You know, like, be the one who ruined a good thing for a little bit of fun.”

She lets his words settle in, rubbing a reassuring circle on the back of his hand. “Makes sense. Sounds really responsible of you to do that.”

Harry presses a soft kiss to her temple and resumes his study of the scenery. They chat amongst their friends for the remainder of the drive and Alani immediately presses Glenne and Jenny for information about her boyfriend in his younger years. They indulge her inquiries and ask their own questions, deciding privately after a few minutes that her and Harry are a good fit. 

When the group arrives at the resort, Glenne takes charge and instructs them all to meet at the lobby for lunch in twenty minutes. They collect their keys and head up to their respective rooms, which are all located on the very top floor. 

“What a view,” Alani muses as she takes in the sight from their private balcony. 

Harry admires the wonder on her face and nods, his eyes not leaving her side profile. “You’re tellin’ me,”

“Let’s never go home,” she poses, arms snaking around his torso. “Let’s stay here forever, just me and you,”

His throat tightens as he thinks back to the inevitable conversation waiting for them. Harry didn’t know why it was so hard to think about leaving because he had every intention of keeping touch and making their relationship work at all costs. But there was a part of him, a very tiny recess in the back of his mind, that feared the possibility of Alani not feeling the same. 

“Yeah,” he agrees with a gentle kiss to the tip of her nose. “Whatever you want, sweets,”

Alani senses a shift in his demeanor, but she can’t read it. “You okay?”

“Never better,” Harry swallows, mustering up a small smile. “But I am hungry,”

She isn’t entirely convinced that there isn’t something bothering him, but she decides not to push it and tightens her grip around his waist, instead. 

“Race you to the lobby.”

“You’re on.”

********

“You’ve never seen Finding Nemo?”

“Was I s’posed to?”

“My god,” Alani marvels. “You know, I’m starting to believe those rumors that you were grown in a lab,”

Harry’s brow raises and he blinks. “That I was what?”

The restaurant that Glenne and Jeff chose features an aquarium tunnel at the entrance, much to both Harry and Alani’s excitement. Fish, large and small, swim around them and the pair take turns pointing out their favorite colorful species. The Hull’s snap photos for their four year-old daughter, but Jenny also secretly captures one of Harry and Alani with their hands clasped under the mesmerizing blue lighting as a keepsake for her friend. 

“Add Finding Nemo to our movie list,” Alani says, admiring a clownfish that swims close to the glass. 

“S’it  gonna make me cry?”

“Probably,”

“Goddamnit,” 

Alani giggles softly and turns her head away from the glass to silently observe Harry under the lighting of the rippling water. The combination of his serene features and the sound of Billie Holiday’s I’ll Be Seeing You over the sound system creates a perfect image in her mind, one that makes her afraid to blink, lest it be gone forever. Harry glances over at her through the corner of his eye and his lips curl. 

“Checkin’ me out?”

“Always,”

“Like whatcha see?”

“Love it.”

His heart nearly stops at her words, but before he has a chance to process their implication, the hostess calls on their group. 

“And I’ll have the piña colada,” Harry orders once they're seated. 

“Oh my god, H,” Glenne laughs from across the table. “That reminds me, remember your birthday last year when James got trashed and hoarded the karaoke machine for, like, two hours?”

“Ruined that song forever,” Jeff quips, reliving the memory of the Late-Late host drunkenly serenading the entire party with the same song on repeat. 

Harry cringes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I try not to,”

Alani watches as they reminisce on the event, adding their own details and pieces to the puzzle. It’s amusing to watch, but a small part of her also has to fight the pang of exclusion settling into the pit of her stomach. She feels guilty for being affected by it knowing, logically, that it isn’t intentional or malicious in any way. Still, Alani is painfully reminded of the vast differences between their worlds. Harry had gotten to know practically every part of her life, including her family, but there was still so much that she didn’t know about his. It was something she worked hard not to dwell on, given the novelty of their relationship, but she also worried that fear and insecurity would prevent her from investing what little of her heart Harry hadn’t claimed yet. 

“Who was it that started dancing on a table and almost broke a chandelier?” Tom asks, wracking his brain. 

“I think it was Ken—” Jeff hesitates, clearing his throat. “Actually, I don’t remember,”

Harry shifts in his seat beside Alani and reads over the menu, quickly changing the subject. “What’re you gonna get?”

“I don’t know,” Alani admits. “Everything looks so good,”

“Oh look,” Jenny pipes up across from Harry. “They’ve got your fav, the mango sorbet. I wonder if it’s as good as the one in Italy,”

Harry beams and reads over the item. “Oh yeah, that was amazin’,” 

Alani files the detail to the back of her mind. She hadn’t known mango was his favorite flavor of anything, and while it was a trivial detail, she realized that there were so still many little details about him that she wanted to know. Harry had made such an effort to remember everything about her, like her go-to sushi order and the fact that she always saved the kiwis for last in her fruit salad, so it made her feel a touch guilty that she hadn’t made the same effort. 

“Wanna share the coconut shrimp?” Alani asks with a gentle nudge to his shoulder. 

“Oh, uh—”

“He’s allergic,” Glenne says offhandedly, not cold or condescending, but more in the same way that an older sister would. 

“Oh my god,” Alani’s eyes widen. “I’m so sorry,”

Harry laughs lightly and shrugs. “S’okay, I’d let you poison me,”

“I didn’t mean to be rude,” Glenne apologizes, reaching her hand out to Alani. “I thought you knew.”

Alani accepts the hand and waves away her concern. “No, don’t worry about it. I didn’t know, actually.”

“We can stop talking about my defects now,” Harry teases. “‘M not dyin’,”

He leans in closer to Alani and presses a kiss to her temple. “But if I was, it’d be an honor to have my last meal with you.”

She responds with a soft smile before returning her attention back to the menu. His sentiments, however sweet, unfortunately did very little to soothe the embarrassment of her mini faux pas. It was irrational, Alani knew this, but it made her wonder what else she didn’t know and what bigger secrets he was potentially keeping. Whose name had Jeff meant to say earlier to identify the mystery dancer at Harry’s party, and why had it created an awkward shift in the air? She decides not to let the spiraling questions spoil her fun and takes a generous sip of her cocktail to avoid them for the time being. 

********

Harry sets the room key on the nightstand next to their king sized bed and lets himself sink down into the soft mattress. The group had spent the entire day sightseeing, from botanical gardens to scenic beaches, but he was really itching for some quality time alone with Alani. Lately, their time together had been cut frustratingly short by work, school, and life in general. Even when they were seated right next to each other with arms linked or fingers interlocked, she felt far away and he didn’t know why. He hoped that this trip would allow them time to reconnect and solidify their relationship before he had to return to California. 

“Mini bar,” Alani comments, kicking her shoes off and wandering over to the small refrigerator in their suite. “Who’s paying again?”

“The label,”

“Thank you Columbia Records,”

She swipes a few bottles of tequila before climbing into the bed next to Harry. 

“Wanna play a game?”

Harry props himself up on his elbow and nods. “What kinda game?”

“Never have I ever,” Alani explains. “But instead of putting your finger down, you take a shot,”

“Sounds dangerous,”

“It’ll be fun. You can go first if you want,”

He hums and nods in agreement before sitting up to face her. “‘Kay. Never have I ever...named my car after a musician,”

“Cheap shot,” Alani narrows her eyes, taking a sip from the bottle of Jose Cuervo. 

“Your turn,”

She fiddles with the bottle cap, a question already in mind, though she isn’t sure if she should ask it. 

“Never have I ever… dated a model,”

Harry’s brow furrows, but he opens his own bottle slowly and takes a sip. “So it’s that kind of never have I ever,”

“Just trying to keep it interesting,” Alani shrugs innocently. 

“Right. Never have I ever slept with a guy named David,”

Her eyes widen, but she laughs half-heartedly and takes a sip. “Jeez, okay. Never have I ever—”

“Wait, so you two actually…” Harry interrupts, trailing off at the end. 

“I mean,” Alani starts, her eyes wandering to the ceiling. “Yeah, a long time ago,”

“How long ago?”

“Okay, maybe this was a mistake—”

Harry shakes his head. “No, I’m sorry. I’ll play nice,”

“Alright,” Alani accepts. She knows that she should probably steer the game back onto safer territory, but the wound has been re-opened and she can’t resist the urge to keep picking at it. “Never have I ever slept with a fan,”

Harry takes a slow sip. “Never have I ever cheated on my partner,”

The bottle stays put in Alani’s hand. “Never had I ever gone on a vacation with my partner before this trip,”

The tequila washes over his tongue bitterly like the faint memories that it symbolizes. “Never have I ever dated someone just for the publicity,”

The bottle in Alani’s hand doesn’t move, much to Harry’s relief, but her mind is not as tranquil. 

“Never have I ever told someone I loved them when I didn’t,” she says slowly.  

Harry takes another shot and it burns all the way down. “Why are we doin’ this?”

“I don’t know, but I don’t wanna play anymore,”

“Alani,” he starts, springing to his feet when she leaves the bed. “Hey, look at me, please,”

She blinks back the tears that threaten to spill over her lower lashes before turning to him. “I’m sorry, that was a stupid game,”

“S’just all out of context,” Harry offers, reaching for her hands. “Wasn’t the right way to have all of those conversations,”

Alani takes a deep breath and nods. “Yeah, you’re right,”

“What’s really botherin’ you, hm sweets?” He coos, bringing her cold knuckles to his warm lips. “Tell me, please?”

She releases a shaky breath and tries to sift through the fog in her brain for the right answer.

 “I don’t know, really, I just,” Alani hesitates. “Am I a bad girlfriend?”

“No,” Harry says quickly, his hands lifting to cup her face. “God no, you’re the best,”

“Then why didn’t I know that your favorite ice cream flavor was mango? And why didn’t I know that you were allergic to coconut, and why—”

“Hang on, is that what this is all about?” he questions. “Cause I’ll go eat an entire coconut right now,”

Alani laughs lightly and pinches her eyes shut. “No, it’s not about that. I just feel like you’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met and you make me feel so fucking special and, God, I just wanna be good enough for you because—”

Harry holds his breath and watches as her eyes gloss over. 

“Because I love you,” she finishes, voice small. “More than I ever thought possible,”

His own eyes sting, but he doesn’t fight the tears that fall as he presses his lips to hers firmly. 

“I love you, too,” Harry murmurs. “I love you so fuckin’ much it drives me crazy,”

Alani chuckles softly. “Ditto,”

“I’ve been wanting to say it for ages, can’t believe you beat me to it.”

“Guess you’re not the only one full of surprises.”

********

The early morning sunlight creeps gently into Harry and Alani’s room, casting a soft, golden glow onto the bare skin that peeks through the white duvet. Harry stirs first, a strand of Alani’s hair tickling his nose and making him smile. He prys his heavy eyelids open and winces at the dull aching of his head aggravated by the light. Alani hears his muffled groan and sighs, willing the sun to go back down and let her sleep a few more hours. 

“Mornin’ sweets,” he rasps with a warm kiss to her bare shoulder. 

She peels her own tired eyes open and flashes a sleepy grin. “Good morning, sunshine,”

“How’d you sleep?”

“Super. You?”

Harry props himself up on his elbow and rests his chin in his palm as he admires the traces of sleep still on her face.

“Just swell.”

Alani chuckles lightly and reaches a hand up to comb through his unruly bedhead. His skin is warm to the touch, and the light from the window casts a heavenly glow around his visage. She pokes her finger into his dimple, which elicits a soft laugh and makes his smile grow wider. They stay intertwined under the sheets as the sun fully rises and soak up their own details to keep as souvenirs from this moment. Alani takes in the scent of vanilla and the juxtaposition of Harry’s inked bicep against the plain, white sheets. He stores away the image of her sleepy, mocha eyes and the pink, manicured fingernails that trail up and down his arm. Neither of them are sure exactly how long they remain in this moment, for all they know it could be hours or days. But whatever the duration, it doesn’t seem to be enough. I need more time, Harry had told Jeff, but there was no more left to give. He had to tell her, and it was now or never. 

“Hey,” he begins carefully. “I need to tell you something,”

Alani sits up to be eye level with him and nods. “Anything,”

Harry waits a beat, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear and pressing his lips to her bare shoulder before letting the confession spill out. 

“I have to go back to L.A.,”

 “I kinda figured,”

He draws in a deep sigh of relief. “You did?”

“Yeah,” Alani shrugs. “Hilo isn’t exactly Hollywood,”

“I asked for more time, but the label—”

“No, I get it. So… when? Next month?”

“Friday,”

Alani’s brows furrow. “This Friday?”

“Yeah,” Harry admits with a gulp. 

“The last day of our trip?”

“Yes,”

Her heart drops into her stomach and she feels sick. It all made sense now why Harry’s mood had shifted when she jokingly asked him not to leave, and why he had been so insistent on spending as much time together as possible this week. Their game of never have I ever turned instantly defensive when asked about his dating history. Never had I ever gone on vacation with my partner before this trip. Never have I ever told someone I loved them when I didn’t. He had whisked her away on a farewell trip and God knows who else had been in her place before, or worse, who would be in it next. Harry was saying good-bye. 

“Wait,” Alani says finally, mind still racing too fast to process. “How long have you known?”

“Alani—”

“How long?”

Harry swallows. “Couple of weeks,”

“You knew for weeks and you didn’t tell me?” she questions incredulously.

“I tried—”

“You know that I hate surprises, you know how I feel about plans—”

“I’m sorry,” Harry insists, sitting up straighter. “I wanted to tell you so many times, but it just never felt right,”

Alani rolls her eyes. “So what, you were just gonna leave a fucking sticky note on my pillow and hope for the best?”

“Don’t say that—”

“Is that why you brought me here?” she asks, voice hoarse. “Is that why you gave me this necklace? A souvenir of our little summer fling so you could leave with a clear conscience?”

Harry’s jaw tightens. “How could you even think that?”

“Because maybe it’s true. Why else would you wait until the very last minute to tell me about this?”

“Maybe we should take a minute,” he suggests, the whites of his eyes now bloodshot. “Before we say something we’ll regret,”

“I think I already did.” Alani admits. Never have I ever told someone I loved them when I didn’t. 

Harry’s head pounds and he feels like he’s drowning, treading water in every direction only to be dragged further into the current. He quickly pulls on his clothes from the night before and tries to steady his breathing. 

“M’gonna go wait in the hall,” he offers. “Give you some space to think and then we’ll talk, yeah?”

Alani doesn’t respond or even meet his pleading eyes. She simply tightens the duvet around her body and turns her head to the window, letting a single, bitter tear roll down her cheek. The door closes softly and she is immediately filled with regret and guilt. Had she truly meant all of the things she said? Or was it fear and the instinct to flee taking over her mouth? Alani wanted to believe that she was wrong and that Harry hadn’t intentionally kept her in the dark, but from where she stood, the sun had long disappeared behind the clouds and all that was left was the storm. 

Harry trudges down the hallway and the walls spin, closing in on him slowly. If he had just told Alani sooner, everything would be different. He had avoided doing so for this exact reason and out of fear that their relationship wouldn’t be worth the risk in her mind. It was selfish—he was selfish—to try to make the decision for her, and now the woman he loved was getting ready to walk away because he had broken her trust. What else was there to do? His back meets the wall and he sinks to the floor. 

“Hey H,” Jeff clears his throat from above. “We should talk,”

“She knows. Didn’t go well,”

“So she did approve the article?” 

Harry lifts his head and his brows furrow. “What?”

There’s a harsh knock at the door and Alani jumps. In Harry’s absence, she had managed to cool off and sift through her frantic thoughts. She had been wrong to think that he used her, all it took was a quick stroll down memory lane to prove otherwise. He had never given her any true reason not to trust him, so there had to be some other reason why he hadn’t told her about his plans to leave so soon. Alani pads over to the door and unlocks it gently. 

“Harry, I’m sor—”

“Wanna talk about surprises?” he seethes. “What the fuck is this?”

She squints at the phone screen that he holds up to her face and the title of her unpublished article stares back at her. 

“I don’t know—”

“Well it has your goddamn name on it,” Harry shoots back. 

Alani steps aside and lets him into the room before she closes the door behind her. “I can explain—”

“Did you write it or not?”

“Yes, but—”

He shuts the phone off and slams it face down onto the night stand. “How fucking dare you call me a liar and then pull this shit behind my back,”

“I didn’t lie,” Alani defends, voice weak. “I had no idea it was going to be published, please just listen—”

“A class project,” he interrupts with his back still turned. “That’s what you said,”

“It was never meant to be released,”

“How do I know that? How do I know you’re not just trying to cover your ass?”

“Please,” Alani begs as her vision begins to blur. “I was wrong, I shouldn’t have said all those things,”

Harry runs a hand through his hair and casts his eyes to the ceiling in an attempt to quell the emotion that pools behind his eyes. 

“So why did you?”

“I was scared,”

“Of?”

Alani takes a deep breath. “Of losing you for good. Of falling in l—”

“Don’t,” he interrupts. “Don’t finish that sentence,”

“I don’t know how,” she tries again. “And I don’t know who released it, but I swear—”

“You really expect me to trust a word you say after you accused me of lying about this whole thing, about us?”

Harry’s  gaze lowers back to hers and the bright, green eyes that she has come to love are replaced with a blood-shot, stormy sea that makes her stomach drop. The words get caught in her throat. 

“I fucked up,” he continues. “I know that I should’ve told you. But I’m having a hard time believing that this wasn’t planned, that this random website would just accidentally publish your work without your consent,”

Alani can’t explain it either, she truly had no idea how her writing had ended up in the wrong hands. There was only one other person she had entrusted it with, but surely Dr. Hudson hadn’t betrayed her, had she? Alani didn’t know who to believe anymore. 

“Harry, I’m so sorry,” she tries. “I didn’t mean what I said, and I know I can’t take it back, but you have to at least believe that I never wanted to hurt you,”

Harry is silent for a moment, and Alani decides that it’s her turn to tell the truth. There was nothing left to lose. 

“At first, I did want to publish it,” she explains. “But I changed my mind and I scrapped the whole thing. In the end, the only person I intended to show it to was you,”

“So how did it get onto the internet for the whole fucking world to see?” he presses. 

Alani sighs. “My advisor wanted to know what I was working on, so I sent it to her, but she never had my permission to publish it. Now I realize how stupid it sounds, but it’s the truth,”

“If you had come to me, I would have given you permission,”

“I’m so sorry,”

Harry’s shoulders tense. Every fiber of his being  wants to believe her, but how could he? She had told him herself that things would be messy and warned him that he didn’t know what he was asking by pursuing a relationship with her. Maybe it really was all his fault for not seeing the signs, but that still didn’t change the fact that he couldn’t trust her anymore. And based on her reaction to the news of his departure, it seemed as though Alani didn’t trust him either. 

“Even if you’re telling the truth,” Harry begins, slow and deliberate. “You still thought, after everything, that I would abandon you. And if that’s the kind of person you think I am, if that’s the person you wrote about—”

“Harry—”

“Then I hope you got all the material you wanted.”

“Please, don’t go.” Alani cries but it’s too late. The door slams and her heart falls. 

After a beat, she races to the door and into the hallway but there’s no sign of Harry. As quickly as he had appeared into her life, he had vanished. Gone without a trace.

[sanders-sides-rebloger]

Cabin in the Woods

Tis the season to be frightening! Fa la la la la, la la la la!

Here’s a fanfic for your liking! La la la la la, la la la la!

A/N: As it is the spooky season I’ve decided make a Vampire Virgil fic. Because we deserve it and he’s amazing. 

Thank you so much @ironwoman359 for beta editing for me! This could've turned out so much worst without your help XD

Word Count: 3,252

Summary: Roman stays in a fairly big Cabin in the woods for vacation that was owned by his Aunt Patty. He's aloud to stay as long as he wants. She figured he needed it after being in a slump from being rejected by one of the most awarding movie studios.

Not only that’s, It’s isolated with nothing but trees and woods surrounding the building and a narrow dirt path that’s an hour away from civilization. What could possibly go wrong?

Tw: drug mention, slight swearing (If there's anything i should add feel free to let me know!)

Roman stays in a fairly big Cabin in the woods for vacation that was owned by his Aunt Patty. He's aloud to stay as long as he wants. She figured he needed it after being in a slump from being rejected by one of the most awarding movie studios.

It’s even isolated with nothing but trees and woods surrounding the building and a narrow dirt path that’s an hour away from civilization.

There’s already plenty of food and water prepared for him already but it’s annoying at times to have to get groceries where the nearest store is an hour and half away but he got used to it. An experience like this is a challenge on Romans part.

Living somewhere that’s completely out of his comfort zone is new and exciting. The place even miraculously has internet and cable so that's a plus for him.

One day he decided to go out for a walk at sunset, enjoying the quietness of nature. The sun seemed to almost set.

Its been about fifteen minutes of walking when Roman hears hushed voices and the sounds of other men talking. He grew confused, close to no one should be around here. The area was secluded.

It turned out to be a drug trade going on, and Romans just stupidly walked in the middle of it.

Every inch of his body filled with regret. He should’ve known what he was getting himself into.

They see him and immediately jumped him. Roman was able to put up a good fight for a while until more of them showed up. For a hopeful second he was able to run away. He fled to the direction of his car so that none of them could know where he lives and try to get the hell away from them as soon as possible.

It was short lived as one guy grabbed him by the back collar of his letterman jacket and pulled him back. He threatens him and tells Roman other nonsense he could care less about.

The tears were pouring down before he realizes it. Tired, beaten, and defeated he could only struggle against the attackers arm around Romans neck and shoulders and beg for mercy.

As soon as he believes this could be the end, the thug’s grip was surprisingly pulled away and he was violently dragged far away from Roman. His screams of bloody murder echo behind him the further away he was.

The prince like man stumbles forward and turns around in fright mixed with confusion, and his eyes widen in terror, the thug disappeared as soon as it happened like no one was ever there. Romans eyes widen.

Who in the hell just did that? There’s no way the bandit possibly fled on his own. Someone else has to be here. Romans eyes quickly land on the three suspicious men, from before, coming into view.

They look at Roman like he was crazy, believing he was the one who possibly killed their friend. The three looked like they were about to attack him when suddenly something came flying into view. A blur of a human shape came knocking the attackers out within seconds, as if he was flying.

Roman stood frozen. Paralyzed with confusion.

Soon he realizes how odd the newcomers clothing is. It was hard to see but his clothing looked like it could’ve been from the Victorian era and his skin is completely pale white. It was all Roman could see since the man was moving too fast, he had the hood of his cape covering his eyes.

Before he realizes what’s happening, he feels something cotton grab his wrist that quickly takes Romans hand and drags them far away to the safety of his Cabin.

Romans mind is reeling at this point. He sighed to himself in relief.

Then it got worse, his heart dropped at the sight of what looked like long sharp fangs curving out of this guy's head. It made Roman want to run inside, lock his doors and windows, and get as far away from this thing as possible.

He was only able to incoherently mumble questions and frightened gasps. With its fangs still out and hissed towards Roman whenever he struggled against his grip. The stranger then grasps Roman and whispers in his ear in a low growl.

“I don’t know who you are, but the only reason I saved your sorry ass was so I didn’t have to deal with a dead body in my territory. Tell anyone about this, my fangs will be digging so deep in your neck, you’ll be completely deflated.”

It made goose bumps grow all over Romans neck. His heart felt like it was beating out of his ribcage. What made this action ten times worse was how the hooded man's voice had a deep dark echo to it.

And with that, the stranger shoved the man in front of him to the ground and disappeared into the night. Roman laid there for several minutes trying to control his breathing as his growing fear in his mind replayed everything that happened in one night.

He went away back to his apartment for a while. The poor guy couldn’t sleep properly for days and left immediately after. He told no one of his experience, he knew they would think he’s crazy for believing in something that sounded so made up.

The Princely character had time to think about his situation over and over. He wasn’t sure whether it was the fight he had been in or the meeting with the pale stranger that terrified him the most. A shiver went down Romans spine from just thinking of him.

He remembers the way the man's breath grazed his earlobe as he talked in that chilling low tone of his. His grip on the man's arms below his shoulders felt overwhelmingly too tight for a normal person.

The creature wasn’t exactly hiding who he was either. Even the very act of saving Roman in the first place to later on threaten him afterwards was beyond him. He could’ve just left him to die by those thugs, and it wouldn’t have been the man's problem either. He could’ve just carried on with his life without Roman in it.

But he didn’t. Instead he knocked every single one there was and dragged them away in the blink of an eye. Roman hoped the creature at least had some morals to not want to mess with him again.

A good few weeks went by for Roman to gain some courage to go back and retrieve his essentials. He was currently finishing with the last of carrying his boxes to the trunk of his car with no issue until he heard a very loud sudden cry.

It was a deep cry, like someone was in pain. It happened only for a second before Roman did his best to brush it off.

He soon heard it again, but this time it was much louder and echoed effectively through the trees around him. From what Roman had heard so far, it didn’t sound familiar and he started to genuinely worry. Someone could be out there who could be hurt or worse. It wouldn’t be noble at all to walk away from any injured human being.

He wasn’t stupid of course, he remembered his last incident in these woods. He brought his samurai sword out with him that he kept inside the cabin as decoration and wished himself luck. He had a lot of spare time on his hands when he was younger.

Little Roman practically begged his Uncle to teach him, saying he wanted to fight like a real prince. His Uncle eventually agreed and helped train him on how to attack with a sword, little by little until the young man today was an expert.

The deeper into the woods Roman was, the more he heard pants and groans of desperation. He was walking for a good five minutes until he finally reached the mysterious injured being.

Roman became stunned in place to see the unworldly stranger from before, back against a thick oak tree, breathing heavily and barely moving. Only the deep rise and fall of his chest indicating any signs of life. He could recognize that clothing anywhere, his most recognizable clothing being his deep purple gloves and darkly stitched black and silk red embedded hood. Yeah, it was definitely him.

He lowered his sword but still held it tightly in his hands. Roman slowly went in front of the stranger and knelt down on one knee, putting distance between them, and examined him more closely. His eyes were closed and he looked to be unconscious. His mouth was slightly agape, showing his impressively sharp fangs.

Oddly enough Roman can’t deny that the man is surprisingly attractive looking from physical appearance alone. His pale skin brought out the dark circles around his eyes as well as his red lips.

A sudden chill went down the back of his neck at the thought of the color being as red as blood. Roman didn’t know and chose to keep it that way.

Without touching him, Roman inspected what he could and found no injuries on the man. There’s no one else in sight except them, so that loud groan had to have been from the now silent man in front of him.

Thinking about it now, he doesn’t know why he’s still here after what this person did! He’s the same one who bared his teeth at him and threatened Roman with his life. The stranger even somehow knows where he lives and could easily kill him if he wanted to. Could he have been stalking him as his prey for the two weeks Roman’s been here?

Romans grip tightened on the handle of his sword he forgot he was holding. His eyes traveled towards the blade.

He could kill this thing. He could do so with no witnesses. The hooded figure isn’t even human, who knows what he’s capable of. It would be so easy...

Roman stood weakly and lifted the end of his sword above his knees and pointed it to the creature's neck.

However this was also the same person who saved him from those dealers. Someone who entered the picture right when Roman needed help most. There was no way this person couldn’t have seen what was happening except from watching afar.

And right now, the closer he inspected the faded purple haired figure he could see how torn he looked. He was currently immobile, his cries were loud just a moment ago and...he looked much skinnier than he previously did? Romans eyes could be tricking him, since there’s excess clothing covering the creature from head to toe, so he couldn’t tell.

Even though the thought of more of them being out there terrified him to death, throughout the miles and miles of woods beyond Romans cabin, who knows, he could have a family somewhere out there.

And Roman was just going to kill him with the only excuse being his fear, even though it’s completely reasonable fear right? And when was the last time Romans seen his own family?

Nevertheless, no matter what circumstances there were, he is grateful for what it did. He wouldn’t be standing here today without the creature's help.

Roman tossed the sword aside and ran his fingers through his hair nervously. He slumped his body to the ground, feeling stupid for not doing the only rational thing a person should do. He doesn’t want to hurt it though. Not after seeing more closely how it pathetically slumped against the tree trunk like dead weight.

The being didn’t even touch him, well- harass him in any way.

The only time he’d touched him was after he dragged Roman straight to his cabin. Also being what he is, he couldn’t have seen another human in years, so it sort of makes sense as to why the stranger threatened him the way he did. It still begs the question to why he helped Roman in the first place.

Instead, he sits on his knees and hesitantly shakes the others shoulder gently to wake him. He doesn’t move, but he’s now taking shallow breaths in contrast to his previous heavy breathing.

Roman moves his hand to the strangers chest. Are creatures like this even alive? The one in front of him surely doesn’t look like it. Not only is he as pale as a corpse, but he’s ice cold to the touch. To confirm himself that if the figure was indeed alive, Roman moves his hand to its wrist, neck or anywhere to indicate any sort of pulse.

From what the man could tell he was beginning to lose hope. Nothing about the scene in front of him was indicating any source of life.

Roman slowly drew his hand back, going over his options for what to do in a situation like this. Roman moves his hand to the strangers skin at his bare neck for good measure.

However he was pulled from his thoughts when Roman yelped loudly in terror at two hands tightly grabbing his shoulders and pinned him, sitting, against the thick tree trunk with the stranger on top of his lap. The weight on him felt like a ton of bricks.

Romans wrists were tightly grasped together over his head with one of the stranger's hands. He winced loudly in pain. The strong grip around his wrists squeezed, barely not cutting off circulation. The other arm pushed horizontally across Romans chest, trapping him even more.

He's almost nose to nose with the stranger in front of him, he stares straight into the eyes of the one who put him in his now captive state, frozen in place.

Roman could widely see the creatures distinct facial features. How it formed a wicked smirk, with its claw-like fangs poking out of its mouth, how the pools of brown looked into Roman with dark unknown intentions.

Roman could feel his heart drop to his stomach at that moment, eyes tightly shut and body trembling as his mind conjured different scenarios of his ultimate demise.

It all made sense now. How the creature defeated the dealers to stop them from getting to Roman. The way he knew the exact route to get to his cabin. He knew where Roman would be in due time and just waited for the right moment to strike in his vulnerable state.

Romans mind drew a blank, and he could barely function at that moment.

He kicked, screamed, and pushed away with all his might but nobody came. The stranger's incredible power which held him down did nothing for him. It only leaned back only a little and watched with a calm expression of pity on the prey's pathetic attempt of escape.

Roman panted heavily, out of breath and worn out. He needs to kill this thing. He should’ve done so when he had the chance.

That's when Romans eyes slowly drifted to his sharp sword in front of him, glinting in the moonlight. He longed for it to magically appear in his hand to help him attack this creature.

His breath hitched as the figure moved forward and toward Romans ear.

“I wouldn’t think about it if I were you~” The creature warned. He said lowly, sniffing Romans neck a little and smiling brightly.

Roman turns his head away the best he can as he whimpers, feeling vulnerable it's touch. He felt completely and utterly violated.

Soon though, Romans face pales and his dread grew when he saw those familiar sharp fangs at the corner of his eye and they were pointed right at his neck.

“Tell anyone about this, my fangs will dig so deep in your neck, you’ll be completely deflated.”

Roman could feel his tears pricking in his eyes, on the verge of streaming down his cheeks. He’s going to die here. He’s never going to live to meet his dreams of becoming a professional actor. He’s never gonna see any of his friends again.

The creature wanted him all to itself, and he was gonna be eaten alive. Roman hoped it would be a fast death at least.

“Please...” Roman whimpers again, his voice quivering as he pushed the back of his head against the tree in an attempt to further himself from the creature. Which only caused him a strong stinging pain in his head against the bark. He prepared himself for the sharp pang to dig painfully deep into his neck.

...

Except, nothing happened.

After what felt like forever, nothing was done to Romans body. He was still pinned against the bark like a prisoner, but no actual damage was done to him. He was confused and afraid to open his eyes, yet he was wondering what the hold up was after the creature stated exactly what he wanted to do to him.

Roman opens his eyes painfully slow. He regains his vision and he could see how the pale man perked up and leaned further away from him. In a flow of emotions its face went from confused to shocked to sympathetic in mere seconds. Roman didn’t understand.

That’s when the figure throws the pinned man aside to the dirt and backs away with almost a tremble in his step. He looks down at his hands with wide eyes, pondering his actions.

He stands up with distance between himself and his victim, running a gloved hand through his hair.

“Did I just...“ The man mumbles to himself.

He grew silent, looking to be in deep thought. He continued to speak softly to himself but it was incoherent from where Roman sat. The silent ring of crickets can be heard with the rustling of the trees.

Roman can see the man from his side view, standing there. It was like he completely forgot that he was there in the first place. Right now, Roman had no idea what to do.

Don’t get him wrong, he’s still pretty damn terrified. But just now, he thinks, the man looked so... scared. Like he didn’t know what he was doing.

Should he say something? Do something to break the ice?

That’s when the man finally noticed Romans presence. His gaze slowly drifts to the man's tense filled body on the ground, looking up at him with a wide stare. His eyes once looked so menacingly. A type of stare that would make anyone regret they were born. Now though the man looks at him with lidded eyes, a light in them that’s shown full of regret. It was astounding. Roman didn’t know what to think.

Roman gets up on his own. He decided it’d be better to say something rather than nothing at all.

“I don’t know what’s going on, what or who you are, but I need an explanation for what happened just now.“ He continued to ramble on about everything else, wanting an explanation, pacing as he spoke.

Roman didn’t notice but the pale man rubs the bridge of his nose in a somewhat annoyed manner. He couldn’t blame him though.

Roman turns again, this time facing him this time.

The man being interrogated slowly walks towards Roman. He sees this and his words slowly die out in this throat, staring at him questionably.

His breath was quite literally stolen from him when the man places a gloved hand over Romans mouth, effectively shutting him up.

“Listen, I know you don’t exactly trust me right now. But my name is Virgil, and I need your help.”

[71tenseventeen]

Into That Bad Night-Timestamp 4

Warnings for violence, torture, threat of sexual assault, violent death, and murder. If that’s not for you, you’ll want to skip this one. 

Thanks to @ljummen and my amazing beta @hrroyalgeekness. She spends 95% of her beta time dealing with my comma issues-so much patience! 

Also thanks to @ljummen​,  @8771eh​ and @hrroyalgeekness​ for being scary as hell in their extensive knowledge of horrible torture techniques. 

Also, as always, thanks @cakemakethme for the kickass banner. 

Timestamp 4 below the cut: 

Sid frowns down at his phone, thumbing through the short contact list once more. As if there is someone he could have missed out of the five people listed there. 

It’s not like he doesn’t know anyone; he knows lots of people. It’s just that most of them aren’t people he knows well enough to ask a favor like this, but even if they were, he wouldn’t trust any of them. 

Friends, or something like them, had come and gone a lot but he hadn’t really trusted anyone since Nate and even that was shaky towards the end. He glances at the list again with a sigh. The three guys he knows from around town are out. His new boss at Malkin Foundation is obviously out, and he doesn’t know anyone else there well enough yet. 

That leaves one person. 

Sid bites at the inside of his lip, thinking it over. He trusts Zhenya, but this is way outside of the realm of something he would ever normally dream of asking a client for. He’s never even called Zhenya before. But he’s spent the last three weekends with him, and Zhenya told him what feels like a hundred times that he should call if he ever needs anything. Sid’s never taken him up on it but now—He doesn’t have any other option with the receptionist staring at him impatiently. 

His hands feel shaky as he dials, fighting the urge to end the call before it even goes through. 

It only rings once. 

“Sid?” Zhenya’s voice sounds tense. 

“Hi,” Sid’s voice is shaky as he steps just outside the clear glass doors, so that the receptionist can’t hear his conversation. 

“You okay? Something wrong?” 

“No. I mean I’m okay. Nothing’s wrong and I’m, um, sorry to call you. I just um, I know this is last minute and I wouldn’t even ask if I didn’t have to…” 

“What you need?” he asks in a gentle tone that’s usually reserved for those quiet moments after Zhenya has just taken him apart in bed.  

“I just, um. Well I’m having my wisdom teeth removed today, and I was going to take Lyft home, but they said they won’t let me do that, and I have to call someone I know to pick me up, or they won’t do the surgery. I’m really sorry to ask.” 

“Sid, I tell you million times, you need anything, you call. Of course I help. Glad you call.”

Sid breathes a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Zhenya. I really appreciate it. Whoever you send won’t have to do anything except come inside to check me out and drive me home.” 

Zhenya is quiet for a long moment before Sid hears some shuffling. “You tell me address. I take care of it.” 

--

Zhenya frowns at the sign on the door.

“Boss?” 

Zhenya turns to Tanger with a scowl. “Paint chipped on sign.” 

“Let’s hope they’re better at oral surgery than door maintenance.” 

“They better be,” Zhenya mutters as he pushes the door open, leaving Tanger to keep an eye on the parking lot. He really wishes he’d been able to send Sidney someplace different, but it’s too late for him to do anything about it now.

Inside, the receptionist greets him without looking up, and he crosses his arms to wait until she does. It only takes a few seconds for her to realize and glance up, doing a double-take before asking, “Can I help you?” 

“Yes,” Zhenya replies flatly. “Here for Sidney Crosby.” 

“Oh, ok. He’s not finished yet but feel free to have a seat.” She gestures to the chairs scattered around the small waiting room. 

Zhenya huffs, unimpressed, before turning back to her. “How he doing?” 

“What?” 

“I ask how he doing. He’s have oral surgery, yes? Want update on his status.” 

“Oh. Well that’s not something they usually update me on.” 

“Then find someone who know,” Zhenya snaps impatiently. He’s never had a problem dealing with people who aren’t in the business—it comes with the territory—but today he has little patience for it. Seriously, how hard is it to get a patient update? Again he wishes he’d known about this ahead of time, so he could insist that Sidney go somewhere better. 

When she hesitates, Zhenya glares at her until she finally stands. “I’ll see if I can find something out.” 

He crosses his arms, shifting irritably while he waits. 

She’s back within a couple of minutes, followed by an older woman in scrubs with pictures of clowns all over her top. Zhenya fights the urge to roll his eyes. “How Sidney?” 

“They say he’s doing fine. They’re nearly done, no complications.” 

“Mmm. Please keep me update.” 

He turns back to the receptionist who is clearly not happy to have his attention back on her again. “He prepay?” 

She opens her mouth to say something but stops herself, tapping at some keys on the computer with a sigh. “Mr. Crosby is on a payment plan.” 

Zhenya pulls out his wallet. “I take care of it.”

Once he’s tucked the receipt away in his pocket, he finally turns away from the receptionist and starts to pace the waiting room. No one else comes in besides Tanger, who only briefly makes an appearance to update Zhenya on a business matter. The receptionist stares at him for so long he finally turns his back to her. 

“What’s her deal?” he asks in smooth Russian.

“Nosy,” Zhenya replies, scowling. “She gave me a hard time getting information about Sidney. I have no patience for it today.” 

“Please don’t kill the receptionist.” 

Zhenya gives Tanger a flat look. “I have more self-control than that.” 

“Do you?” Tanger grins, already heading for the door. 

“Get back to work,” Zhenya grumbles, cranky. 

He asks for another update after fifteen minutes, and this time she’s smart enough not to argue. The nurse is clearly annoyed when she returns, and Zhenya simply does not give a shit. “How he?” 

“They just finished and are waking him up. You should be able to take him home soon.” 

“Good.” 

It’s a relief when she finally emerges another twenty minutes after that and leads Zhenya to the recovery room. Sidney is relaxed back into the chair, and at first Zhenya doesn’t think he’s even awake. The moment he asks the doctor how things went, though, Sidney cracks his eyes open and gives Zhenya a bright, dopey smile. 

“Shhenyaa,” he slurs happily and gives a funny little wave before dropping his hand back down heavily. 

Zhenya is so glad Sidney called him for this. 

He grins as he comes closer, raking his fingers through Sidney’s hair. 

“You good wif your hans,” Sidney beams up at him while he tries to talk and Zhenya laughs.

He has a lot of questions for the doctor about how the procedure went (they say it went fine but Zhenya will most certainly be confirming that with an oral surgeon of his own choosing) and what kind of aftercare Sidney will need.  

Sidney interrupts, snagging Zhenya’s sleeve clumsily. “Iss okay,” he warbles at the doctor. “Shenya always takes care’ve me. He keeps me safe.” 

Zhenya raises his eyebrows and he can’t help feeling a little smug.

Sidney is clumsy but manages to walk with Zhenya’s arm firmly around his waist. He keeps grinning up at Zhenya and stumbling over his own feet, but they manage to make it almost all the way through the lobby without incident. Almost. 

Zhenya is pulling the door open when Sidney says it. 

“I like your dick. S’big.” 

Zhenya snorts, choking a bit on his laughter, hustling Sidney the rest of the way out without looking back. 

--

Tanger drives, so Zhenya can sit in the back with Sidney as he keeps drifting in and out. Each time he opens his eyes, he smiles dopily at Zhenya and says hi to both him and Tanger.

“You have good hair,” he says to Tanger in a dreamy voice. 

Tanger grins. “Thanks.” 

“S’not as good as Shenya’s though,” he says absently, looking out the window at the passing buildings while Zhenya barks out a loud laugh. 

“Where we going,” he asks, eyes fluttering again. 

“Taking you home with me so I can take care of you.” 

“Thas nice,” Sidney says and he’s out again. 

--

Zhenya manages to get Sid all the way to the bed before he blinks a few times, glancing around. “S’not home,” he slurs. 

“I know. Think I can take better care here. Is that okay?” 

Sid shrugs and lets Zhenya guide him to lie down. “S’good. Haysh’ll lea-me alone here.” 

That draws Zhenya up short. “Who?”

“Don’ like him,” Sidney says, not really paying attention, eyelids already fluttering. 

“Who bother you, Sidney? What they do?”  

But Sidney’s eyes have already slipped shut, and he’s starting to snore softly, leaving Zhenya frowning. 

He pulls off Sidney’s shoes and pants, getting him tucked in before he calls Tanger. “Put surveillance on Sidney’s building tonight. Want to know anyone who go near his apartment.” 

“On it.” 

--

Waking up is like fighting his way to coherence through several layers of thick cotton stuffing. 

Sid is so tired and drifty; he wonders why he’s even bothering. 

Then he hears it again. “Sid? Need you wake up and take medicine.” 

It’s a struggle to get his eyes open and even more of a struggle to process Zhenya carefully helping Sid to a sitting position and pushing his hair back. “Zshenya?” he slurs, remembering now that his mouth is swollen and sore. Nothing makes sense.

Zhenya grins at him with a chuckle. “Look so confused. Cute.” 

He boops Sid’s nose gently with his thumb before reaching to the side table, and it’s then that Sid realizes he’s in Zhenya’s bed. Had whoever picked him up taken him to Zhenya instead of home? 

“Time for meds. I have glass of water, need be very careful, okay?” 

Sid nods dumbly because he can’t really wrap his head around all of this right now. He takes the medicine, though not without difficulty. He realizes he’s maybe still a little numb in spots when water rolls right out of his mouth the first time he tries. Somewhere in the back of his head, he’s pretty sure he’ll be embarrassed about that later but right now he just stares at Zhenya once he’s managed to get the pills down. 

“Why’m I here?” 

“You think I’m send driver to take care after surgery? No chance. I come get you, bring you here. Need someone take care of you after thing like that.” 

Sid ponders that. Zhenya came to get him, not a driver. Now that he thinks about it he has some hazy memories of being in the car with Zhenya while someone else—the guy with the hair maybe?—drove. Sid glances back up and manages to warble out a belated, “thank you.” 

“How you feel?” 

Sid has to think about it. His brain is still so fuzzy from the anesthesia. Finally, he shrugs. “Okay.” 

Zhenya looks skeptical but doesn’t argue. “You want lay back down or sit up for awhile.” 

Again it takes Sid a few seconds to comprehend and decide on an answer. “I think—stay up? Is that okay?”

“Of course. Come, I get you set up on couch, we watch movies and I let you wear fuzzy slippers,” he says, winking at Sid with a cheeky grin. 

--

Zhenya grins at Sid’s soft snores, tucking a blanket around him. He’d lasted all of ten minutes on the couch before he’d mumbled something about his meds, and then he was out again. 

His phone rings and he gives Sid one last glance before ducking into the kitchen to answer Tanger’s call. “Yes?” 

“Flower’s watching the apartment. He said one guy already came to Sid’s door, the landlord, apparently. I checked him out—Martin Hayes.” 

Zhenya narrows his eyes. “Hayes. What you find out?” 

“Few run-ins for petty crime on his official record, but nothing that stands out.” 

“Sid behind on rent? Problem with apartment?” 

“Not that I can tell. The ledger in his personal apartment shows Sid’s current and has been for the last eight months.” 

Eight months—right about the time Zhenya hired Sid for the first time. But if it’s not a money issue then why is Hayes at his door? 

“Find out what he want with Sidney, then. Be discrete.” 

“You know I will.” 

Zhenya hangs up with a frown. He doesn’t know what’s going on but he intends to find out. 

--

Sidney is in and out for the next couple of hours. He doesn’t remember much about the times he wakes other than feeling a little loopy and confused. And Zhenya. 

Zhenya is right there every time, grinning as he takes care of Sid, makes sure he has everything he needs. Sid’s still not fully clear on how he wound up at Zhenya’s apartment, recovering from oral surgery, but he’s got a nagging feeling he may have embarrassed himself, if the number of times Zhenya laughs and calls him “cute” is any indication. 

He’s glad when the anesthesia finally seems to have burned out of his system, and he’s a little less fuzzy-headed. He’s not numb anymore and it seems like a victory to be able to feel his own lips again. 

He works his way through some cooled broth Zhenya brings him before he finally gathers his thoughts enough to ask, “I thought you would just send someone to pick me up.” 

Zhenya waves his hand dismissively, “Like I tell you earlier, not trust just anyone take most good care of you. 

Sid flushes, picking at the blanket. “Oh. Well, um, thank you. I, uh, I hope I wasn’t too much of a pain.” 

“Not pain at all,” he grins wider. “You very relax, cheerful. Most chatty I ever see you.” 

“Oh god. I hope I didn’t say anything stupid.” 

Zhenya’s smile definitely brightens at that. “Nothing stupid. You say my hair better than Tanger, and,” he pauses, grin changing to an unmistakably cocky smirk. “In waiting room you say how much you like my dick. Both things true.” 

Sid groans loudly, carefully covering his face with his hands. “Oh no, oh god, I didn’t.” 

“Did,” he replies cheerfully. 

Sid sinks lower, cheeks flaming as he keeps his eyes covered. “I can never go back there again.” 

“Good. I not like place anyway, paint chipping on door. I send you to my guy for follow-up. He take most good care of you. You can tell him how much you like my dick.” 

Sid groans again, pulling the blanket up over his face. 

--

Zhenya waits until Sid is carefully working his way through a bowl of jello before he brings up the landlord. “Who Hayes?” 

He prickles a little at the way Sid freezes. There is definitely an issue, and Zhenya wants to know what it is. 

“What, um, why?” 

“Earlier when I bring you here you say Hayes won’t bother you here.” 

Sid blanches a little, staring down at his bowl before he takes a deep breath. “He’s the landlord of my building. I just don’t like him.” 

“How he bothering you?” 

“Most of the time he’s not. He just, um, he asked me out, and I said no. It’s not a big deal.” Sid trails off with a shrug. 

Zhenya thinks about that for a moment before asking quietly. “I’m need to have talk with him? Can make sure he leave you alone if you’re not want to date him.” 

Sid’s eyes snap up to meet Zhenya’s. “I don’t! God no. But you don’t have to do anything. I told him no already.” 

He believes Sid, knows his tells very, very well by now, and he can tell Sid means every word he says. 

He also knows that there’s more that Sid isn’t saying. 

Zhenya is more than familiar with Sid’s tendency to diminish bad experiences, and he doesn’t like it. But he doesn’t like the uncomfortable look on Sid’s face, doesn’t want to stress him out right now, so he finally nods. “Okay. But want you to know, can call me any time, for anything. Anyone bother you, you need ride, need anything, you call.” 

Sid bites at his lower lip, looking so uncertain so Zhenya leans up a little, grabbing Sid’s wrist. “Hey. I mean. We friends, yes? You on Evgeni Malkin good side, you always taken care of. Is nice perk.” 

Sid gives him the smallest smile. “Okay.” 

“That and best dick.” 

Sid groans, turning away again but not too quickly for Zhenya to see him grinning. 

--

Sid spends most of the next two days with Zhenya fussing over him and managing his recovery. Eventually, though, Zhenya has pressing business matters and Sid has work at the Malkin Foundation to get back to. 

Even though Zhenya insists Sid can take whatever days off he wants without penalty, he doesn’t want to do that. It feels so good to have a real, reliable job again, and even though he hasn’t known them long, he likes most of the people in his office. He doesn’t want special treatment just because he’s, well— it’s none of their business what he is to Zhenya. 

It’s Friday and Sid thinks about Zhenya as he gets ready for work. it’s been almost two weeks since Sid last saw him, and he’s really hoping Zhenya will call tonight. He’s in a good mood when he heads out the door, so he’s entirely unprepared to come face to face with the landlord. He feels his stomach twist with dread and he tries to avert his eyes quickly. “Oh. Hi, Mr. Hayes. I’m just on my way to work.”

“Oh Sidney. You know me well enough to call me Martin, don’t you think?” 

“I’d rather not.” 

“Mmm, suit yourself. You should stop by the office and see me on your way home this evening.” 

Sid’s stomach clenches. “I probably have to work late,” he forces out before dodging to the side and rushing towards the stairs. 

Hayes doesn’t follow him, and Sid breathes a sigh of relief. 

It’s a decent day, but Sid’s feeling a little sour after the encounter with Hayes this morning. To make matters worse, Zhenya doesn’t call and Sid really doesn’t have a reason to be upset about that—but he is anyway. 

He stops by the grocery store after work, picking up a pint of ice cream as a treat before heading home. He’s pleased when he makes it past the office with no sign of Hayes and he bounds up the stairs, anxious to dig into his banana fudge ripple. 

He stops short when he gets to his door and finds it padlocked shut. Something sick twists inside him as his jaw drops open but before he can even process what he’s seeing, he hears the voice behind him. “Looks like you don’t have the key to that particular lock.” 

Sid takes a deep breath before turning to face Hayes. “What are you doing?” 

Hayes doesn’t move out of the way, stepping closer instead, trapping Sid against the door. He cringes away when Hayes raises a hand and runs his finger down Sid’s cheek. “You’ve been avoiding me.” 

“I told you I don’t do that anymore.” 

“You had no problem doing it when you were about to be evicted.” Hayes’ smile is predatory and Sid has to close his eyes for a moment against the painful memory. 

“My rent is paid up, and it has been for a long time.” Ever since he met Zhenya, to be exact.

“Is it? Hmmm, I feel like maybe I remember you paying this month but I can’t be sure.” 

Sid swallows hard. “You know I did.” 

“I’m not so sure I do. You might need to convince me, Crosby.” 

Sid shakes his head, feeling his stomach retch. “I’m not going to do that. You can’t do this to me, my rent is paid.” 

Hayes shrugs. “What are you going to do about it?” 

And that’s really the bottom line because Sid knows he’s right—there’s very little he could do about it. Cops are a joke and would never believe him, anyhow. His choices are to comply or likely lose everything he’s worked so hard for. It may not be much but it’s his. 

Swallowing hard he casts his eyes around, stalling, but there’s nothing and no one. Anger bubbles up inside of Sid at the situation. “I’m not touching you,” he snarls, before turning to bound down the steps. Once he’s outside he starts running, anxious to get as far away as quickly as he can, tears stinging at his eyes every step of the way. 

He eventually slows to catch his breath, dropping sadly onto the bus stop bench. 

It’s not fair. 

He’s going to lose everything, and there’s nothing he can do about it. 

Except. 

Maybe there is. 

You need anything, you call. He knows Zhenya meant it. And he’s so tired of being pushed around. In that moment, he realizes that what Zhenya does for a living simply doesn’t matter to him anymore. 

He takes out his phone and stares at Zhenya's number for a moment. When he hits call, it’s a lot easier than he thought it would be.

--

Zhenya knows something’s wrong the second he hears Sid’s trembling voice on the other end of the line. 

“What wrong?” 

“You said, um, you said I should call if I needed anything.” 

Zhenya’s on his feet before Sid gets the last word out. “Yes. What going on?” 

“I, um, my landlord is—he locked me out of my apartment. But I swear I’m not behind on rent!” 

Dark anger fills Zhenya’s chest at the mention of Hayes. “Where you? Somewhere safe?” 

He’s out the door before Sid has even finished answering him. “Stay where you are,” he says firmly. “I’m on way. You call immediately if anything happen.” 

“I—okay.” 

Sid looks sad and scared when Zhenya spots him at the shitty little diner he waited in. He’s shaky as Zhenya escorts him to the car, eyes turned down like he’s afraid. As soon as the car starts moving, Zhenya closes the privacy window and turns to Sid. 

“Tell me what happen,” he coaxes, as gently as he can.

Sid still won’t meet Zhenya’s eyes as he starts talking. “He locked the door with a padlock. He’s trying to say I didn’t pay my rent, and that I have to—” 

Zhenya can’t stand the way Sidney’s hand is shaking. He squeezes it and does his best to be patient. 

“He says I have to fuck him, or he’ll say I didn’t.” 

It takes everything Zhenya has to keep the rage from showing on his face. For the first time, he’s glad Sid’s not looking at him because he doesn’t think he quite manages. 

“That not going to happen; he not going to touch you.” 

“Zhenya, I—there’s something else you should know.” 

Zhenya hates the sadness etched all over Sid’s face right now. 

“It’s my fault,” he stops, taking a deep breath before he goes on. “Before, um, before I met you I got behind on rent, and I had to—” Sid pauses again before whispering, “I didn’t know what else to do.” 

Zhenya sets his jaw, not wanting Sid to see his anger and misinterpret it. 

Hayes is a dead man. 

But not before Zhenya makes him pay. 

“You did what you had to. Have to survive, Sid. No one judge you for that.” 

“A lot of people would.” 

Zhenya swallows back his anger at everything Sid has had to deal with. “Not me. Never me.” 

“Thank you,” Sid whispers sadly. 

Zhenya scoots closer and slides an arm around Sids shoulders, tucking him in close at his side. “Not worry anymore. Glad you call, I’m take care of this.” It’s enough for the moment to feel Sid’s body relax just a little at those words. 

“I’m not, um, I’m not asking you to do anything...bad. I just need help.” 

Zhenya grasps his hand and squeezes. “I’m powerful man, Sidney,” He says, without a hint of humor. It’s true and he’s not going to pretend otherwise. “If I’m want new landlord for your building, I’m get. Is no shame in ask me for help. I’m just going make sure he not work there anymore, not bother you anymore.”

He’ll be sure of it because Hayes will be dead, but he’s not telling Sidney that. 

Zhenya is patient. He’d like nothing better than to be making Hayes hurt right now but making sure Sid is okay is more important. Once home, he gets him settled, makes sure he eats and tries to reassure him any way he can.

He sticks close until Sid finally drifts off, looking young and sweet with his curls splayed on Zhenya’s pillow. He pushes Sid’s hair back, says a few quiet words to make sure he’s really out and pulls the door shut as quietly as possible. 

Fleury is waiting outside the front door. “He okay?” 

“For now,” Zhenya says, bitter anger spiking again. “Want full time coverage on Sid from now on. You want job?” 

“Absolutely.” 

“Want recommendations for who alternate with you by morning.” 

“Not a problem.” 

“He’s sleeping now. Call if necessary.” 

Zhenya steps into the elevator with a single-minded focus. Hayes is going to pay for every second he ever spent with Sidney Crosby.

--

He’s sitting on the chair and has the audacity to look irritated when Zhenya enters the room. White hot anger surges through Zhenya, but he doesn’t say a word, taking his suit jacket off instead, enjoying watching the color drain from Hayes’ face when he sees Zhenya’s holster.  

“You’ve got the wrong guy. This has to be a mistake, I—”

“Shut up,” Zhenya says coldly, crossing the room to stand in front of the chair. He stares down at the man for a moment, filled with dark, angry emotion before he backhands Hayes, knocking him out of the chair with one powerful motion. 

“Get up,” Zhenya says, voice full of venom. 

Hayes tries to obey, but Zhenya knocks him down again. Over and over, Zhenya hits him relentlessly until his face is a bloody mess, and he’s sobbing, begging Zhenya for mercy. Only then does Zhenya stop, leaning over to yank the man’s head back by his hair, relishing his cry of pain. “You fucked up when you fucked with Sidney, and now you going to pay.” 

Even though the blood and tears, Zhenya can see understanding dawn in his eyes, giving way to nothing but pure fear. Zhenya smiles cruelly. “Now we can begin.” 

He strides to where Tanger stands by the closed door, handing over several lengths of rope that he had ready.

Zhenya makes short work of propping Hayes back up in the chair before binding his arms and legs tightly to it with Tanger’s help. He circles the chair then, slow, calculated. 

“You take advantage of Sidney when he have no other options then you try to do again tonight, even when he say no.” 

“Please, I didn’t know he—” He’s cut off by another sharp backhand, and he wails in pain. 

Zhenya shoots him a disgusted look. “Pathetic coward, can’t even take like a man.” 

He pulls a tire iron from where it sits on the metal shelving and flashes a cold look. “Now you gonna cry some more because you gonna pay.” 

Without any more warning than that, Zhenya swings the tire iron hard and fast, connecting with the man’s right knee cap. “Hurts?” Zhenya brings it down again, this time on the left. “Good.” 

Hayes hands and fingers are next, followed by his ribs, shoulders, elbows—anything Zhenya can break without actually knocking him out, though at this point, Hayes is barely clinging to consciousness. Zhenya casts the tire iron aside when he’s finished, starting to circle the chair again. “You gonna die tonight, and no one ever gonna know what happen to you. But don’t worry, they gonna find pieces of you so your Mama not have to wonder if you alive or dead.” 

The man sobs at the words, trying to plead for his life again, even while blood is dribbling down his chin. Zhenya crouches down to meet his eyes, barely visible now through the swelling. “You sorry for what you did?” 

“Yes!” comes the warbled response. 

“Good.” 

Zhenya stands and gives a single nod towards Tanger who crosses to the other side of the room to the utility sink, casually plugging the drain and turning on the water. 

Zhenya starts unbuttoning his shirt, ignoring Hayes’ pleas for mercy as he gets the last button and peels the shirt off, leaving him in dress pants and an undershirt. He continues to ignore the whimpering and begging as he cuts the ropes and hauls Hayes up by his hair and shirt. 

He puts up a fight as Zhenya drags him across the room, but it’s pathetic at best, and Zhenya sneers at him in disgust. How dare he ever think he could force Sidney into anything he didn’t want, could take advantage of him when he was scared and in trouble. Anger builds and roils in his gut again as he yanks the man to a full standing position. Pausing only to say quietly, “You never gonna touch Sidney again,” he thrusts Hayes’ top half forward, plunging his head and neck under the cold water and holds him there, easily over-powering him as his struggling quickly weakens.

It takes a few minutes, but Zhenya holds him there just a little longer. When he finally lets go, the man doesn’t move, body draped limply over the edge of the sink, and Zhenya relishes the satisfaction that rolls over him.

He’s done what he came to do. 

--

Sid feels Zhenya slip into the bed and instinctively nestles against him, pressing his ass back without a second thought. They haven’t been together since before his surgery, and he really hopes Zhenya wants to tonight. He grinds his hips back a little harder and feels a soft huff of laughter at the nape of his neck. 

“Yeah?” Zhenya asks, voice silky and deep. 

“Yeah,” Sid breathes. “If you want to.” 

Zhenya makes a low, growly noise. “Always want. You sure you okay for it?” 

“God yes.” 

Zhenya’s only reply is the hot, wet slide of his tongue below Sid’s ear. 

[d3caybab3]

Beautiful A Tenya Iida x Chubby Insecure Fem!Reader

A/N// This is my first fic on here! Now this is 100% to cope with my own body image issues, but also I want to be there for anyone else who feels like me. There's 1, not enough Tenya fics out there, and 2, so many fics describe the reader as slim and I want to be more inclusive. I hope you like it!

Summary: You’re spending time with your beloved boyfriend Tenya, you start to unload and vent all of your insecurities onto him. He tells you he loves your body in an..interesting way.

･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ 

Warnings: NSFW, smut, virginity taking, body worship, oral, vaginal sex, creampie, fingering, self body shaming, swearing.

     You were stressed to say the least, for more reason’s than one. You had a big test coming up that you were NOT prepared for. The other reason however was more of a personal problem. Your boyfriend Tenya Iida, was the smartest, sexiest guy you’ve ever laid eyes on. Unfortunately, he was in a different class than you, 3-A. His class was full of beautiful girls with perfect bodies. Of all the girls he could have, he chose you, and it still baffles your mind. In your eyes, your face was painfully average, but that wasn’t your biggest issue. Your body was.

     The way the UA uniform hugged your body in all the wrong places, how it displayed all the rolls, and how your thighs spilled over your stockings. All of it made you want to cry. You’ve told Iida about your self hatred before. Since then he's reminded you almost daily about how beautiful he thought you were, sadly, it never really worked. It may have made you feel pretty for a few minutes. Still, you never felt beautiful.

     It was approximately 2 days until the big test you were severely unprepared for, which has only been adding onto your crippling stress. Then you remembered your boyfriend loves studying and he’d be willing to help. Considering it was 8:30, everyone should be in their dorms, so the risk of you getting caught. You were in class 3-D so the walk between dorms would be about five minutes. You slip on a pair of flip flops and try your best to quietly sneak out. 

     The brisk night air hit your legs, as you were wearing too-short pyjama shorts and an over-sized hoodie that happened to be Iida’s. The walk over to the 3-A dorms was short. When you arrived Mina, Momo, and Uraraka were in the lobby talking about lord knows what. You smiled to yourself and you knocked, a moment later Mina came over and opened up the door, greeting you with big smile. “Hey (Y/N)! Here to see your boy toy?”, she asks, wiggling her eyebrows. “Of course I am, why else would I be here?", they all chuckled a bit at what you said. 

     You stayed in the lobby for a bit just catching up with the girls. Since you started dating Iida, you knew everyone in his class, and became acquainted with most of them. You said your goodbye’s to the girls, making your way to the boys’ wing. When you got to Tenya’s dorm you knocked on his door a few times, hoping he wasn’t already sleeping. Thankfully, he answered but he didn’t look amused.

     “(Y/N), what are you doing here past curfew!! You know it's against the rules,” Iida exclaimed, doing his signature hand motion. “I’m stressed about a test I have coming up..plus I missed you Tenya..” You sighed and give him a hug, your face landing in his big chest, as he’s much bigger than you. Tenya hesitantly hugs you back, his hands landing at your soft love handles. You smile up at him, feeling him already loosen up. No matter how much he denied it, you made him less authoritarian and more calm.

     “Please Ten, help me study?”, you give him big eyes that he can’t help but smile at. “Fine,” he playfully rolled his eyes at you, letting you into his dorm. You pull up another chair at his desk, sitting so close to him that your legs touch. 

“So what’s the test over? You know I have flashcards and notes for everything, Princess,” he smiles, pulling out binders and organized index cards. “It’s over geology,” you groan, your head falling into your arms. Iida noticing your stress immediately embraced you. “Studying while over-whelmed won’t get you anywhere princess..if you needed come see me you could have said so..” Iida rubs your back slowly to relax you. You already started to feel better, as you swore his touch could fix anything.

You looked up at him after a moment, his cobalt eyes staring deep into your (e/c) one's. Tenya's large hand ran down the side of your face, his finger running by your jaw and under your chin. He tilted your head up to get a better look at you, “God I'll never get over how beautiful you are,” the tone in his voice somehow sent off a signal in your brain, telling you this wasn't about studying anymore.

Iida leaned down to meet your face, his lips barely hovering over yours. He gave you a look asking for consent, instead of nodding you leaned in and kissed him first. The kiss didn't stay at a simple peck, his hands snaked down to your hips, as your hands found his hair. The kiss was nothing but pure, raw, passion. Before you could even think about it, Tenya's had lifted you up onto his lap, feeling the growing bulge in his pants.

You and Iida had been together for 6 months and you haven't gone past a make out. Because of your insecurities, you were too scared to get intimate, even with him. The thought terrified you, someone seeing you naked. Them turning away after seeing your stretch marks and rolls. The paranoia was too much, thus you just never risking it.

Tonight, however, you could tell was different. Tenya gently slid his tongue into your mouth, his grip on your hips growing tighter, sure to leave bruises there the next morning. His lips found their way down your jaw and onto your neck, causing a soft whine to escape your lips. Before you could even think about being too heavy for him, he stood up, and your first instinct was to wrap your legs around his waist.

Your hands in his hair balled up in a fist and he gently pushed you onto his bed. You beneath his large frame. Tenya pulled away to look at you, his face red and his glasses falling down the bridge of his nose. “Princess, if you don't mind I want to go all the way with you tonight,” he said bluntly. “Tenya..I-i don't want you to leave me once you see-”, you looked down at yourself. Seeing your thighs pooling on the bed, or how you could see the print of your stomach in your tight cotton shorts.

“Princess you know how I feel about you saying those things about yourself..” his eyes stared deep into yours, you could tell how upset he was. “But I'm scared..” you could feel the tears welling in your eyes. “Scared about what love?”, he asks, you could hear the sorrow in his voice. He hated when you talked down about yourself, it made Iida want to cry.

“Tenya, I'm scared that once you see what I look like under these clothes that..that you'll leave me for someone prettier, someone slimmer, someone who doesn't look like me..”, The tears began rolling down your face, with each word you spoke you could see Iida's heart break more. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to compose himself.

“Princess..(Y/N), I've said it once and I'll say it again, you're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen, I WANT to see you happy, I want to make you feel good, I never want to leave you.. you're everything I want and more..I love you, and your beautiful body so much,” The words he spoke nearly made you cry more, his hands cupped your face as he left a soft kiss on your lips. Tenya pulled away, to look at you deeply with his cerulean eyes.

You smiled at the way he looked at you, his eyes full of love and adoration. You grabbed his hair and pulled his head down back into the kiss, his tongue finding itself back into your mouth to explore. His hands running up and down your sides. The simple gesture sparked something within you, that you never felt before. You thought for a second and came to the conclusion it had to be lust.

You pulled from the kiss to look at him, “Is something wrong princess?”

“No, it's perfect.. everything is perfect,” you smiled up at him, your legs finding his waist once more.

“Well that's good I want you comfor-” , you cut him off.

“Tenya?”

“Yes princess?”, he asked, slightly scared because you interrupted him.

“I want you tonight, all of you..please,” You were almost desperate, as you felt wetness pool between your legs. “Of course princess..”, a smirk washed across Iida's face as he slowly kissed down your neck, leaving faint marks on your supple skin.

You mewled at the sensation, grinding up on his bulge to gain friction. Iida simply groaned in response, tugging at the bottom of your sweatshirt, as a way of asking to remove it. You nodded desperately in response, just wanting him to fill you already.

You felt goosebumps on your stomach and chest as the fabric was removed. “God you're so much more beautiful than I imagined princess..”, he practically groaned at the sight. You weren't a perfect hourglass shape, and it only turned Iida on more.

A blush washed across your face as he started kissing your breasts. Leaving hickies on the fleshy mounds. Iida unclasped your bra, biting his lip at the sight of you sprawled out for him. He lowered his head and began sucking and toying with your nipples, giving them equal amounts of attention.

Tenya pulled away from your breasts, making his way down your soft stomach to between your legs. Making sure to leave marks on your thighs and stomach. He pressed his thumb onto your clit through your panties, smirking at how your winced. “Oh princess.. you're absolutely drenched and I barely touched you,” Iida placed his hands on the band of your black lace, not hesitating to rip them off you, literally.

“Tenya! Why would you do that!” you pouted, as those were a good pair. “I'll buy you new ones..” he muttered, licking his lips at the sight of your dripping cunt squeezing around nothing. “God princess..you made me wait for this..I wonder how good you'll taste,” Iida licked up your slit, making you push against his face, his glasses now on his forehead.

Tenya began to lap at your puffy clit, occasionally sucking it. His fingers were dancing at your entrance, waiting for the right moment to push one in. “Ugh Tenya please!!” you whined, balling his midnight hair into your fists. You didn't have to tell him twice, you felt one of his meaty fingers enter your tight pussy. He moaned at the way you clenched around his digit, he started to thrust his finger at the same pace he was licking your bundle of nerves.

Soon you felt a second finger inside you, the knot in your stomach growing tighter by the second. Tenya's fingers went faster inside you, finding their way to that special spot. Completely driving you over the edge. “Tenya!”, you screamed loud enough for everyone to hear, your grip on his hair impossible. Your orgasm making your clit quiver in his mouth, he continued slowly licking it through your orgasm.

Iida pulled away, his face red and his glasses fogged. “You did so good princess, I can't wait to fuck you,” he pulled off his shirt and you couldn't help but whimper at his large, muscular build over you. “Like what you see princess?”, he laughed lowly as he placed a kiss on your lips, tasting yourself in the process.

“Mm yes.. you're so handsome Tenya..”, you sat up to caress his gorgeous body. There's no denying he looks like he was sculpted by the Gods. Your hands ran up and down his large biceps, as well as his perfectly toned abs. You could see you touching him was only making him more needy, the bulge in his pants was loud and proud.

Before you had the chance to pull away yourself, Iida had shoved you back down onto the bed his sweats down at his ankles. “Don't test me princess..I may not be so gentle next time,” he growled, his kiss rough and dominating. You had reached down to pull off his boxers, your eyes widening at his length.

Your body ached at the sight, as you had a feeling you'd be limping tomorrow. Iida was a big guy, height and muscle wise, so you didn't know what you were expecting but it wasn't that. His cock was long, very thick, and slightly curved upwards.

“Tenya I-” your mouth was agape, to say you weren't a bit scared would have been a lie. “Is there an issue princess? We can stop if you want,” classic Iida, always so considerate. “No no Ten.. you're just big, very, very big,” you gulped at the sight of his member once more. “Oh, well I hope that's not a problem,” he grinned, his tip teasing your entrance. ”N-no..” you whined, wanting to be filled already.

“Well princess..if anything hurts or I'm too rough please do not hesitate to tell me," you nodded quickly in response, having enough of the talk. Seconds later you felt his cock pressing into your tight walls, hissing at how it hurt so good.

Iida continued pushing in at an agonizingly slow pace, taking every nerve in his body to not just rail you. “Fuck.. you're so tight..is everything about you just perfect?” he muttered, finally his tip pressing up against your womb. He then slowly pulled out, then quicky pushed back in, his head hitting the spongy spot inside you.

Your eyes widened in shock, moaning in pure bliss. Iida continued thrusting in and out of you, his tip hitting that spot nearly every time. It made your toes curl and tears come to your eyes because it felt so good. “Shit.. Tenya please do not stop,” you pushed down against his length, making him go deeper, which felt impossible.

Iida wasn't particularly vocal, as he wanted to hear your sweet cries. But every now and then he'd grunt, or groan. “God you're so good baby, I don't think I'll be able to get enough of your sweet cunt after this,” his thrusts started to become less rhythmic, and he began to speed up.

It took everything for him to not cum on the spot, but he wanted you to orgasm before him. You were a mess, you were shaking under him as your core got that familiar tightness once more. “Mm Tenya keep going I'm so close!”, your nails were digging into his back, leaving scratches, and crescent shaped marks behind.

Iida's hang moved between you two, his palm rubbing your oversensitive clit. Which made you see stars, moaning his name, which made him only go faster. He hit the spot in you once more before your orgasm hit you like a bus. The overwhelming pleasure made your thoughts cloudy as you were moaning nonsensical things.

Iida continued to thrust into you slowly through your orgasm, your walls clenching around him, making him paint your insides white. “God-..nngh Princess you're so good..so good.. you're mine understand? No one gets to make you feel this good besides me," his breath was heavy, as he pushed his seed into you.

Tenya caught his breath before collapsing at your side, both you and him sweating. “Princess you're beautiful okay? Don't forget that..” he kissed you softly, embracing you in his arms. You simply nodded, as you were not too far away from passing out.

For the first time in a long time you truly felt beautiful and comfortable in your own skin, this was only a small step but hopefully many more nights like this will happen. You fell asleep in Iida's arms with a content smile, so thankful you met him.

[anthonyed]

Angs/fluff prompts: 71. “You’ve been drinking tonight, haven’t you?” with (surprise, surprise) buckytony? If you feel like it?

It should be angst/fluff but i spiralled into hurt/comfort, and May, I keep trigger warning your stuff skhsdhj sorry about that (although ik you can handle it so there’s that)

(from this list: “you’ve been drinking tonight, haven’t you?”)

tw: alcohol, depression, mentions of vomit

-//-

Tony has had his fair share of alcohol - never crossed the line because Howard did and he told himself since he knew how to make a wish that he would never be that man. 

But he drank. Bad enough, but never worse than his dad. 

Ageing however, has scraped out his hard edges and shaped him more malleable with every new experience and dare he say: these days, he prefers sparkling juice to actual champagne. 

Even if his lover sometimes tread too close to that line his father used to stand on. 

He turns off the lights, locks the shop and he takes the stairs to the penthouse; what can he say, he's 45, and he's trying to be a better man now that he has a reason to wish for a longer life.

Except his reason used to be a prisoner of war with a fuck ton load of issues that could make his own look microscopical in comparison - which we're not doing here because asking whose pain is worse is just a shitty thing to do in general but it gives a perspective as to why he's slumped against the glass panel, eyes glazed staring at the lone couch in their living room looking severely intoxicated.

Tony read once - will remember it for a lifetime - that depression is a great lover.

Bucky doesn't have Major Depressive Disorder. His diagnosis, until six months ago, was Post Traumatic Stress Disorder with depressive tendencies which often comes in a violent surge. 

He knows then, Bucky leaned on those hands more than on his; and it's not Bucky’s fault at all because whenever Tony wasn't there - even if it's a millisecond opening - depression was waiting to grab Bucky for itself. 

And that's neither Bucky’s nor Tony’s faults - Never. 

Maybe Bucky didn't even want those hands, maybe when he needed, they're all he had. 

So Tony tries to be there for him, as much as he can; never stopped trying even during remission. But he had some meetings to attend across the ocean; 5 countries in three days and this wasn’t even their first separation, let alone the longest. He wouldn’t have left if he wasn’t confident. 

Three days ago, Bucky was light. He kissed Tony goodbye and went for his morning jog. Tony packed his bags, left three letters for each day on his pillow so Bucky could feel him even if he's not there and in a worse case scenario, if they couldn't call. 

They called. They talked. Bucky read those letters, and he laughed on the phone. He sent photos of daisies he saw by the road; quoted; life finds a way in the end and that should have maybe warned him. Tony itched, but he never asked. He called Bucky and made sure he knew he loves him, made sure he took his meals, made sure he went down to the communal area so he hung out with his friends and not stayed cooped in the room only. He sent photos and on a whim, a few postcards which would reach later than he already did but -

That's the thing isn't it - But. 

You can do so much to maybe too much but sometimes it just isn't enough.

Tony is 45 going 46 and when he was 15, he realised he blamed himself for everything. When he was 18, he blamed everything else except for himself. When he was blasted away from the humvee and woke up in a cave, he was 15 again but he saw Obadiah Stane burn and he thought: This isn't how life works

Relapses happen. 

He's faced enough himself to know it is nobody's fault. Nobody did nothing or too much or too little and that it just happens, sometimes; without triggers, without comprehensible reasons and you move on from there. 

Treat it like an accident; you trip and fall and you get up and then walk into a quicksand and you get up and someone push you down the cliff so you climb back up and you walk thinking finally this is it; this is a safe road with beauty around it and it makes you so hap -

Oh. 

There was a trap. You didn't realise there was a trap there, and you fell and it's shocking but you stand up, dust yourself off and you climb out and you keep walking down that same beautiful road. 

It made you happy didn't it? So you keep on walking. Don't hate it. Don't stay buried. Just - Every time you fall, you know you have to get up again and you learn something new too; like maybe, remember to look down sometimes, check the ground, don't just look up at the sky. 

Point is: Bucky's relapsed, don't know when exactly it happened but Tony knows that that is not the matter of concern. What matters is for them to get up again. 

So he doesn't panic, doesn't mean he expected this. He just knows better about reality. When tomorrow comes, they'd give a call to his doctor, take it from there. As for now he walks across the room and sinks to the floor next to his lover. 

He takes his cold hand, hard metal and he twines their fingers together, keeps their clasped hands on his straightened out leg, leans his head back against the glass panel separating them from the world and he asks. 

"You've been drinking tonight haven't you?"

Bucky snorts and Tony knows he may try all he might but he could never cross that line Howard stood on; his physicality is such. His cells metabolize alcohol too rapidly for Bucky to drown in it. He may sink but he can never drown.

Selfishly, Tony’s grateful. He knows that every time Bucky picks up a bottle he wishes otherwise, but selfishly with his whole heart, Tony sends a whisper of thanks into the air for every quickened metabolic cycle completed. 

He never wants to see Bucky as how Howard used to be; never wants to see anyone there, which was why he himself quit. The mirror helped.

But that doesn’t mean Bucky never tries. When it gets bad, he tries so hard he comes too close to that line. Like tonight.

All he wants is to forget, but he never can. Lucky or not, Tony can understand that too well.

So when he lashes; snatches his hand roughly from Tony’s and stands up, staggering, before he walks only to stop a few feet away, lost - Tony, doesn’t get mad at him.

It hurts, yes. But even hurt, when you can understand the reason, it digests easily in your system.

He gives him a few minutes; stays where he’s sat, counting empty bottles on their dining table; two bottles of vodka and five beers. Bad, but they've seen worse.

When Bucky collapses where he stood; slides himself so his spine presses against the back of the couch, knees pulled to chest, head in his hands; Tony finally stands up. 

He gets closer, but not too close. And he waits. 

Funny no matter how many times you've faced the same thing over and over, you can still be completely unsure how to deal with it. 

This is a man he loves. Unconditionally with the whole of his heart and then some. This is a man he'd give anything for, do anything for and if he so much as sighs, Tony would crumble into nothing. 

There is nothing he wouldn't do for Bucky - That is the fact. 

Yet he stands, doing exactly nothing. 

But this is not the time for self pity. This isn't about him, but them. This is, most importantly, about Bucky. 

So he tears his emotions away, shoves them into a box, closes the lid and he crosses the room to the kitchen. 

He picks a glass, fills it almost to the top with water and he walks back to where Bucky's sat. 

"Finish it," he says. 

And Bucky takes it.

Should have started like this, abandoned soft emotions and gone methodical from the very beginning. But Tony is a weak, weak man when it comes to Bucky and he's only 45; he's still learning. 

He's been on Bucky's side one too many times but less on where he stands right now (Rhodey knows better, or even Pepper). He's got so much to learn and he will. He doesn't have the patience, but he loves Bucky so vastly that training himself to be patient is close to nothing.

Even if it means, he has to clean vomit from his toes, strip Bucky naked and guide him into a tub of warm water and then strip himself and get in with him when Bucky sinks dangerously low to drown himself.

“Lean on me,” he says, meaning a little more than what he needs Bucky to do right then; just place his head on Tony’s shoulder and let Tony hold his weight in there.

He washes him clean, shampoos his hair and rinses off the sud, holding his tongue back all the while. He unplugs the tub and lets the water drain before he gets out, clenching his jaw hard at how Bucky sinks down soon after - couldn't even hold his weight up. 

Truth be told: his heart aches.

But he taps that organ aside and wraps Bucky in a towel; dries him as quickly as he can before he helps him out of the tub and he’s a 200 pounds super soldier - he’s heavy, no kidding, and Tony has lifted heavier things than him, lifted Bucky several times even, so the way his knees buckle is really not from the physical weight - it’s something else.

He grits his teeth and hauls him to the bed. Picks out a pair of boxers then hesitates before pulling out a pair of sweatpants and Bucky’s favourite hoodie; he usually sleeps in only boxers but just in case. 

He pulls the boxer up before he asks, “Do you want the pants?” But Bucky only looks at him blank, meaning he’s dissociating which is -

Tony pulls in a deep breath. Alarm bells ringing all around him. He knows the minute he climbs onto the bed next to Bucky that he is risking his life. But at that moment, he doesn’t care.

He’s not a prayer, never been a prayer, so he never sends a wish above to say: “Please don’t make this man my killer. I would be glad to die in his hands but he wouldn’t live knowing what he’d done to me.”

In retrospect, he knows he shouldn’t have worried about that because Bucky prays enough for both of them.

“Come here,” he grunts, pulling Bucky into the bed, wrapping him up in a blanket so he can never feel cold, only warm. Doesn’t wrap himself within; he knows sometimes, too much touch can be uncomfortable, but the way Bucky looks at him when he combs his wet hair back is hungry. So Tony tucks himself close enough and presses a kiss to his forehead.

Hums a song he knew in his bones - from when he was a kid and Jarvis used to put him to sleep after Howard and mum fight - under his breath, waiting for Bucky to fall asleep. But just a few minutes before, something shifts in Bucky’s eyes, like he’s seeping back into reality and when it does, his lashes flutter, his chest expands with a sharp inhale and he knows what Bucky’s going to ask before he even opens his mouth.

“You didn’t hurt anyone,” he tells readily. “Only killed five bottles of beer and two vodkas and then emptied it all on my feet and your clothes.”

Bucky frowns, his thought stream seems to stutter in the lagging and when he finally speaks, it’s a hoarse and confused, “'M sorry?”

Tony’s heart aches again but this time he lets it; buries his trembling lips on Bucky’s forehead in the pretend of a long relieved kiss because he is relieved. He is so relieved that he could laugh because every single damned time this happens - he is afraid he will never get Bucky back so when he does; he feels like he could finally breathe. 

“No problem, sweetheart,” he whispers into damp curls, combs them back again and kisses the exposed skin. Then he looks Bucky in the eyes and says seriously, “We’re calling Jo tomorrow morning.” Jo being Dr Josephine Iyer.

Bucky’s jaw works, and he nods tightly. Tony presses another kiss because he knows this is hard and he appreciates it but as far as expressing emotions is concerned, this is how far both of them go.

Then he curls himself facing Bucky, both of them closing a bracket of warmth in between and he tells him, “Go to sleep, snowflake. I’ll be right here when you wake.”

(more of this verse if you can stomach MCD)

[dopescotlandwarrior]

Sinners & Saints-Chapter 3

                       A special thank you to @statell​ the best beta ever

Previous chapters at AO3

Chapter Three

Claire strained to get the bodysuit up her arm and over her shoulder. She had been at this for thirty minutes and had one more arm to go. She felt sweat roll down from her temple and grunted the rest of the way into the bodysuit that instantly made her morbidly obese. She pulled her fat clothes on and stuffed her hair into a shag wig that layered hair against her cheeks and forehead. Blue contacts were centered in her eyes and she was ready.

Jamie addressed his team at breakfast, giving last-minute positions and handing out the castle floor plan.

“There is a ten thousand pound bonus to the man that catches Casper in the act. Let me know where he is and stay with him. I only need three minutes with the man then you can arrest him. He has this coming.”

Claire came in through the air shaft and looked through the grate . It appeared to be someone’s office and it was empty. She popped the grate off, preventing it from bouncing on the hardwood floor. Cracking the door, she rushed out when the hall was empty and joined the other handlers unpacking the treasures. The statue was a foot away from where she was working and when she scooted her bulky body around the display, blocking the camera, the statue disappeared for just a moment, and then it was back. It was time to go.

She told her partner, “I gotta take a shit, right back.” When she walked briskly around the corner, she felt the air get sucked out of her lungs and instantly changed direction. James Fraser was walking directly for her, fortunately with his head down. She needed to get out of the castle before someone recognized the statue was a fake. She started running from room to room looking for a way out. She ran through a kitchen and saw a delivery truck behind the castle and the door standing open. She leaned forward to make a run for the door but jumped back into a pantry when Jamie’s voice was coming toward her. Struggling to quiet her breathing she could see his outline through the vent in the door. He was less than a foot away and she could smell his aftershave. Jamie spoke into his walkie and assembled his team in the exhibit hall.

Jamie looked down at one of the handlers.

“The fat girl said she was going to the lu and never came back. I didn’t see her scan out. Just letting you know.”

Jamie and his men spread out and searched the castle for a fat girl looking for a bathroom. This waste of time was irritating. He wasn’t here to manage the handlers or look for a girl with a gastric issue today. His walkie crackled.

“Ah, we have an issue in the exhibit. One of the pieces has been replaced with a fake.”

Once Jamie was out of the kitchen, Claire made a run for the door praying she wouldn’t be seen and pushed her long legs as fast as they would go. She headed for the woods and cover, trying to get her direction so she could find her car.

People in the castle were shouting and running outside to look in every direction and then back in. They discovered the fake statue and if she didn’t get very lucky in the next few minutes Jamie Fraser would finally catch Casper. She said a Hail Mary and chose a direction. Five minutes later she ran right into her rental car.

“Christ almighty, thank God.” The little green bug was pushed to its limit and came bursting out of the woods at the bottom of the hill the castle was built on. It was dangerous and terrifying to race the little car through the woods, but she would not be seen getting back on the road this way. Claire was panting from fear and heat as she flew down the road in her rented bug. She parked behind the hotel and took the service elevator to her room, ripping her bodysuit off as she came through the door. She reached into a hollowed-out pocket in the fat abdomen and pulled out the statue. She might have the hounds of hell coming down on her, but she took a minute to admire the ancient artifact before rolling it into lambswool and placing it in a fake two-liter soda bottle.

Claire checked out of the hotel by phone and headed to a toy store to buy an assortment of toddler toys that she ripped open and dropped into her carry-on. The toys would act like a cushion for the statue after she got it through the x-ray scanner. To do that, she wrapped the statue in carbon paper and affixed it to the bottom of her bag. A sheet of Teflon was laid over it and glued down to the case. When the glue was dry she piled the toys on top.

She raced to the airport and dropped off her rental car then headed for the terminal. She had no idea if the X-ray scanner would pick up the gold statue. If it did, she would be caught and her life would be over. She placed her carry on in the bin and waited at the other side almost fainting with relief when it popped out of the scanner and rolled toward her. Her legs could hardly hold her up as she walked away. Sticking her hand in the bag she pulled at the Teflon until it ripped away. The carbon paper was next and she balled the material up and pushed it into a waste receptacle. Now If her bag was inspected, the statue was just another toy.

Claire requested stand-by, first available flight to Paris, and was told to board flight 312. The woman pointed to the gate that was a brisk walk away and Claire boarded gratefully. When the plane lifted into the air, she allowed herself to exhale and relax. She pulled her phone out and sent a text to Javier. ..’Coming for spaghetti dinner, extra meatballs on mine. Landing 1h10m.’

Javier looked at the text and couldn’t believe it. The code was set between them five years ago and never used. Spaghetti dinner meant, I’m in trouble and coming in hot. Extra meatballs meant go dark, get off the grid.

“Gentlemen, cell phones off, batteries out, this is not a drill. Joseph, the Bear lands in forty minutes, find her.”

Claire pounded two shots of whisky and closed her eyes so she could think. What the hell was Jamie Fraser and his team doing at the castle, today of all days. He would not go there unless someone tipped him off and that thought was terrifying. Forty-five minutes of considering every conclusion to this horrific situation and she was coming undone. Were they waiting at the terminal to arrest her? Had Javier already been arrested? She felt the plane descending and saw the green earth beneath them. Hold on to your sanity, she told herself, you’re almost home.

Claire was very protected by Javier. She would hand off the stolen piece to one of his men, usually within the hour of her possession, and leave the country clean. This was the first time she boarded a plane with the evidence that would convict her, and she was completely unnerved by the experience. Someone was assigned to take the statue in Germany, but she didn’t trust anyone at the moment.

Joseph weaved through traffic at the airport and finally saw Claire walking briskly away from the terminal. He pulled up to the curb and she jumped a foot off the walkway. Not a word was spoken during the ride back and Joseph pulled into the lower garage at the mansion so Claire wouldn’t be seen. Javier was waiting for her and pulled her to his office.

Javier waited while Claire caught her breath. “When was your last sweep in here?”

My darling Bear, spaghetti and meatballs is not a dish quickly eaten. One moment, I will get you a cocktail. One of the men came into the office and swept it for bugs, leaving quickly shaking his head no.

“You may speak freely.”

“What are the odds of James Fraser and his team showing up at a German castle for the Pharaoh exhibit, today? With the statue in my possession, I nearly ran right into him. What reason would he have to be there? Why was his whole team at Sotheby’s two months ago?” Claire put her hand up and exhaled loudly. “He ranted from anger when we were stuck in the rubble. He got control of himself but not before saying his black market snitch told him the Rembrandt would be in play.”

Javier waited for Claire to get it all out. He almost lost it when her eyes filled with tears and her chin quivered as she pushed back on her fear.

“Javier, someone close to you is passing information to Jamie, or the police, and he is hearing it from them. All your men know who I am so I must assume James Fraser knows the true identity of Casper. Jesus Christ, the time he spent with me in Paris, why not arrest me right there? He needs to catch me in the act or risk losing his case to good lawyers is why. You have a rat in your house Javier and he nearly cost me the next twenty years of freedom.”

Javier leaned back in his chair with an expression rarely seen. It was murderous.

“It would seem so. Have a bath and some food and rest a bit. It will not be quick to catch this rat so you must be a teacher for a while until I can catch him. Okay?”

Claire nodded and made her way upstairs leaving the statue on Javier’s desk. She was completely exhausted and confused about Jamie Fraser. Had he known her identity from the start? If so, he was very good at hiding his hand, she never suspected a thing. The smell and serenity of her room were the last straw holding her together, so she sank into the familiar covers and cried.

Claire stayed with Javier for a week before she felt brave enough to board a plane to Chicago. She was out of the thieving business for the foreseeable future, possibly a year Javier said. He tried to convince her to quit but she wasn’t ready. On her trip back to Chicago, she considered the fortune she had amassed in real estate, gold, art, and more stock than she could remember. It was more money than she could spend in a lifetime so why risk everything on the next coveted piece? Her eyelids closed and she slept all the way home.

Frank laughed at the jokes and slammed his shot with the others, smiling at his growing euphoria. He looked around the room and saw shadow people in various sexual positions. It was arousing as hell and he absently grabbed his balls.

A gorgeous girl smiled and pulled on his arm, “common big guy, I think you’re ready.”

He was led into a smaller room with a bed and the woman was taking his belt off and pulling out his dick. Throughout the night the girl would morph from an adult to a very young girl and then back again. He didn’t care as long as she kept it up.

For the rest of the weekend, Frank consumed three roofies dropped in his drink, had sex with women, men, boys and girls, and didn’t remember a thing when he stepped off the billionaire’s plane in Washington. This was his fourth trip to the island, and he looked forward to the next.

Later in the year, snow fell heavy in the Highlands and Jamie leaned against the barn and watched the fields turning white, a sight he never tired of. This year, he arrested five burgeoning art thieves, a counterfeiter, and shut down a major black market railway in Europe, but Casper eluded him still. He could not attribute a single theft to Casper in over a year and decided he had gone underground, but for how long? The men who recruited Jamie were putting pressure on him to make an arrest because someone had to be punished. It wasn’t enough that Casper wasn’t stealing art anymore. Jamie had a network of informants that had been full of information at one time and even they were disappearing or just stopped talking. He shook his head in disgust and went into the house to pack for Paris. He would be there for the week, maybe more, to add another five agents to his team. It was his first time back since the explosion as Sotheby's.

Claire walked quickly through the townhouse throwing items in her suitcase while Frank followed her like a complaining puppy. She couldn’t take it anymore and stopped abruptly feeling Frank bump into her back.

“Frank, I have hardly seen you this year. I agreed to the lecture four months ago and a new DaVinci has turned up in a French basement that I have got to examine. I will be home on Christmas day so why don’t you go see your parents while I’m gone?”

God the man was irritating, she stormed in her head. He wanted to direct her every move, dictate her social schedule, and preapprove her trips and lecture schedule. Now he wants a wedding planned for five hundred people. She wasn’t sure she even liked him anymore. The door closed on Frank Randall’s face because he was making her late. Claire was fuming as she finished packing and stormed out of the bedroom saying goodbye like an afterthought.

Claire got in line to check into her hotel and called Javier to say she landed and would see him for dinner. Jamie was completing his transaction in the line next to Claire and walked the other direction to find his room. An hour later Claire walked across the lobby in a short black skirt, black heeled boots and an oversized sweater. She pulled her Maurizio Braschi cashmere coat around her and hailed a cab. She had not been back to Paris since the ill-fated Germany job, her last job, and she was so excited to see Javier.

Jamie sat through a security workshop and pinched his leg to stay awake. His on-again-off-again girlfriend, Laighaire, was bombing his phone, knowing he would be in meetings all day. Such a pretty girl, he thought, but when the holiday parties were over and there were no more gifts to get, she would be off again, looking for a man who was everything Jamie wasn’t, primarily present and accounted for. He smiled wryly and shook his head to wake up.

Joseph drove Claire back to her hotel after dinner and she gushed about the decorations and lights around the city. The minute he pulled away she was back outside to walk around and look at all the decorations. The temperature was a comfortable thirty-two degrees, so she kept walking.

Jamie stumbled out of the workshop bleary-eyed and needing to find some fresh air. He wrapped a scarf around his neck and headed for the door. His taxi dropped him at the hotel, and he headed out for a brisk walk before dinner.

He saw her sitting on a bench, her ponytail was long and rested on her shoulder. Her lips were pink frost and she smiled at the night. Just lovely, he thought. The woman stood and walked toward him, he kept looking until his feet stopped, and he froze. Impossible. As she got closer, Jamie’s smile was like a beacon and she searched his face.

“Jamie Fraser!”

She jumped into his outstretched arms and kissed his cheek. Jamie smelled her neck and had the same happy grin he had the first time. “God, you smell like heaven. Can you walk with me a bit, we need to catch up.”

They walked through Paris arm in arm for the next two hours, and as before, thoroughly enjoyed the company of the other. Claire was trying to get a signal that he knew she was Casper and decided he was a fantastic liar, or he didn’t know. When they had a nightcap in the hotel bar, she looked in his eyes and asked if he had caught Casper yet. All she saw was sincere sadness and he shook his head no.

“No, lass. Casper went dark a year ago. He retired, or he’s dead, neither work in my favor. I think the team will be disbanded and I,” his eyes looked haunted for a moment, “will be reassigned if I can’t catch him in the next six months.”

Jamie shook his head, “let’s talk about something more pleasant.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek.

Claire told Jamie about the changes in Frank, his estrangement, and her decision to follow her own path and then she leaned over and kissed Jamie’s cheek.

“Well, it is fortuitous we landed in the same hotel and I hope to spend more time with you while you’re here. Be a good lass and tell me when that will be.”

“Dinner, tomorrow?”

“Perfect, let me walk you home.”

At her door, he said goodnight and moved to kiss her cheek again but instead he held his head close to hers and then looked her in the eye. “Kiss me, Claire, like you did once before,” he whispered. Claire turned her head and kissed his mouth, sucking air at the intensity of the moment. Jamie gorged himself on her lips being careful not to take more than she wanted to give. He felt the key card in his hand and opened her door, kissing her inside, pulling is coat off and then hers. He broke the kiss and looked at the woman who haunted his dreams.

“Goodnight sweet Sassenach.”

Claire was startled at first but realized he felt her hesitation. She really liked Jamie, but he was an art cop and she, an art thief. One thing that was perfectly clear to her, she was done with Frank. The attributes that once attracted her were starting to crack and it was a deal-breaker for her. Besides, he never made her feel the electric current going through her body like Jamie did.

The next night, after a long day of lecture and appraisals, Claire swung the door open with an excited smile. She should be dead on her feet but spending time with Jamie tonight was exhilarating. She kissed him long and deep sending a message there would be no hesitation tonight.

They chatted throughout dinner and the silence was comfortable when they allowed themselves to stop talking and eat. Claire confessed her decision about Frank was partly due to how she felt with Jamie. He inched closer to her.

“Sassenach, is it wise to tell me such things? This lad is head over heels for you and now I know you’re free.” Claire giggled until he kissed her.

“Check please.”

Jamie grabbed her hand and helped her with her coat. “I have already paid Sassenach. Do you want to walk back?”

They stopped to kiss every other minute, so the block-long walk took thirty minutes. He kissed her in the elevator until she broke the kiss, “thirty minutes to call Javier and rinse off.” She walked briskly to her room and Jamie watched like a starving man.

The shower calmed her racing heart and she slipped into a satin nightgown that was very short and felt divine to touch. She knew seduction was the main event tonight and set candles all over the room, a purchase she made between appointments while a happy cab driver waited. Pulling her straightened hair into a ponytail and heard him knock.

Jamie brought champagne and fine chocolates and received the smile of approval from the object of his desire. He waited for her to put them in the frig and then pulled her to him, running his hand up her side and groaning at the feel of the fabric. He didn’t want to race to the bed, instead, he would see how high she wanted to go. He picked her up and sat on the couch with her across his lap. The kissing was slow and sensual as their bodies found their way to a comfortable position. They whispered in the other’s ear, smiled and kissed while their hands explored.

Jamie’s shirt was unbuttoned slowly and she helped him out of it kissing every inch she could reach. Jamie pulled the band from her ponytail loving the soft shiny hair between his fingers.

“You want champagne love?”

Jamie grabbed the bottle and chocolates, pulled Claire to her feet, and poured two glasses. He could not stop touching her and needed to see her naked. It was two years ago she invaded his space so sweetly and he could not wait any longer. While she stood in front of the mirror, he moved his hands up her body under her nightgown and pinched her nipples slightly. He could see the rosy glow on her cheeks as she pressed back into his chest. He lifted the fabric very slowly in case she pushed back until it was over her head and he was stuck staring at her body. His eyes slowly covered every inch and she watched him look her over, confident in her own skin, aware that he needed this visual experience.

The give and take between them made the night exceptional, sweet, erotic, and satisfying. Her body was so responsive to his touch and that thrilled him. When he dropped to her side, panting for his life, she pushed him onto his back, laid her head on his shoulder, and fell asleep, followed by Jamie a short time later.

Claire was hyper aware of Jamie in her bed all night. She woke up several times and went back to sleep with her hand or arm touching his skin. This gesture was sweet and tender to Jamie as he woke each time she moved, anxious to feel her hands move across his skin again.

The beeping of Jamie’s watch brought them both to consciousness as the morning rays were streaming in the windows. He jumped out of bed worried he was late for his interviews and looked around for his clothes. Claire was on her knees on the bed and spread her arms wide, still half asleep, she wanted a morning hug that made him feel weak. He pulled her close and hugged her, kissing the top of her head and asked how she felt, if she was ready for the day, if she would think of him today, and if he could get her anything. He pushed the hair out of her face and realized she was sleeping, somehow still on her knees.

“Sassenach, do you need to get up?”

She nodded her head yes and held her arms up for another hug which was warmly given.

“Dare I ask if you’re free for dinner tonight?”

“If you can wait until seven o’clock, I would love that.”

“See you at seven then.”

Claire checked her email and was shocked to see a coded message. She sent it to Tom remotely and then read what Javier had to say. ‘Rat found, extermination complete, you are safe. Do you want a new project?’ She sent her response to Tom before sending it to Javier. She passed on the project, wanting more time with Jamie to explore her feelings. She jumped to her feet and danced her way to the shower. It was going to be a great day.

[softly-savage-mint-yoongi]

Allotrope

Genre: Idolverse Pairing: Kim Junmyeon (Suho) x reader Warnings: ANGST. unprotected sex. clothed sex. shower sex. oral sex(m & f receiving). slight body issues if you squint. Myeonnie is a soft dom in case that isn’t already obv. prev.   2   next. Words: 13k

You groan aloud, frustrated with reading the same paragraph three times over but not absorbing what is written. Not even enough to pretend that you understand.

Originally, you had thought that getting some fresh air and studying outside on this beautiful April day would help you. Instead, it was distracting. Like there was something calling for you to look around, but not dangerous. Like you might miss something if you don’t look up every five seconds.

However, your headphones are comfortable over your ears as you listen to your favorite instrumental study playlist, pencil tapping the thick pages of your open textbook in your lap as you go. Just focus!

This class was putting you through it, you couldn’t wait for the semester to be over finally. Only five more weeks. You sighed, pouting your lips out and taking a swig of your water before diving back into the text willfully.

You’d been at it for nearly two hours now. The sun was stretching to its peak overhead just as your stomach grumbled. You tell yourself if you can make it through the end of this chapter, you would call it a day and get yourself a late lunch.

Somehow, a testament of your willpower, you plowed through the end of the chapter in ten minutes, writing notes, scribbling passages down, highlighting and marking related information within the chapter with a variety of cat shaped sticky tabs.

You were pleased with yourself, closing your eyes and smiling at a particularly wonderful melody as you let your head roll back to feel the sun on your face and stretch your neck.

A content, productive sigh left your body feeling much better. You were totally going to reward yourself with the largest, most expensive coffee you could afford. Rolling your head back to your notes, you opened your eyes.

A pair of feet immediately caught your attention. Black, white and red Nike airs, and expensive looking ones at that. Your head snapped up to see, and standing before you was the last person you expected.

Kim Junmyeon.

Your breath caught in your lungs and suddenly the air of relaxation you had worked so hard for is stolen away and your heart is swept into your throat with the wreckage.

He’s casual but still devastatingly handsome. With ripped blue jeans, a faded charcoal tee and an impressively oversized yellow plaid flannel, he looks the epitome of chic but functional and not at all like a huggable boyfriend, you remind yourself. He’s wearing a black bucket hat to hide his eyes. His eyes that are staring directly at you.

The expression panting his face is passive. Passive… but also curious. Passive… but also a bit worried. Passive… but also a bit, something else.

You smile at him, letting your headphones fall around your neck and fixing your hair, “Hello.”

A grin tucks itself into the corner of his mouth automatically at the sound of your voice. “Hello to who?”

Laughter falls from your lips at his inquiry, “Hello, Junmyeon.”

He tsked, “Still think you know me, huh?” You’re almost afraid he means it, until he squeezes himself into the minuscule space where you’ve left the bench empty of your school work.

“I mean…” you trail off, averting his gaze with a blush. He is happy with your reaction, an honest smile curling his eyes into crescents as he looks around the park, taking in the springtime view. Momentarily, while his gaze is absent, you study him. He looks healthy and well.

“I can see why you chose to study out here, its peaceful.” he comments, “I hope I’m not interrupting? It looked like you were finishing up a few minutes ago.”

“You were watching me study?”

He laughs boyishly at your expression, “Perhaps I was.”

You scoff at him, shutting your books and shoving them back into your bag one at a time, “That’s not weird or anything.”

He blushes, hesitating for a moment with those pretty eyes going wide and lips pouting, “I’m sorry. I couldn’t help myself, you were distracting me.” Junmyeon puts on a dignified air, insisting you are the cause of interruption.

You laugh loudly into the air, “Oh, you’re one to talk, mister idol!” Leaning closer you whisper, “How are you even out and about right now without paparazzi and fans all over you? That’s dangerous, you know.”

He grins like a cat, eyes darting around you as if there’s some trick he has to it that he doesn’t want to expose. “I’m fine, I do this all the time.�� but the smile fades a fraction as he continues his explanation, “I’m not nearly as popular or easy to spot as some of the others. I don’t stick out like a sore thumb like Chanyeol or Jongin do.”

Before the words can be mulled over, they’re tumbling out of your mouth, “I don’t think that’s true. You’re always the first one I notice.”

Junmyeon stills, blushing as his brows fly into his hairline. He wasn’t expecting you to say that, but the tone of your voice compelled him to believe it. “Thank you.”

You grumble, refusing to meet his eyes and instead scratching at your cheek, “You’re welcome.”

Just before he can say anything else or the tension can grow, your stomach protests audibly between you. Embarrassed heat floods your cheeks and you both laugh.

“I think your stomach is done with studying.” Junmyeon quips with that grin tucked into his cheek again.

“You don’t say.” you deadpan in return.

“Feisty today are we!” he goads, standing up as you do. He stuffs his hands into his pockets and rocks back and forth on his heels with a smile full of white teeth, his eyes downcast to your face with an amused tilt to his lips.

“Just frustrated by this stupid class. It’s almost over.” you explain, hauling your bag over your shoulder. Very naturally, he falls into step beside you as you walk the gravelly path toward the exit.

He hummed, something you remember he did often to fill the silence the last time you were with him, just over four months ago. You remember with a shiver, back when he had his tongue delving between your thighs. You remember with a frown, back when you left his warmth at the end of your shared pleasure. Back when you realized just how lonely he was, and how guilty you felt leaving him alone in his bed on a cold and dreary December morning without so much as a thank you.

You become absorbed in your thoughts, questioning why then has he sought you back out? Why, when he could have just as easily ignored you and passed you by, was he going out of his way to walk with you?

Why did you feel connected to him? Why did you notice, even before meeting him in person so abruptly all those months ago, the way he wore his heart on his sleeve? Why was it so easy for you to see the stress he was under and the emotions and words he couldn’t express on television so plainly written across his handsome face? Why could you feel the sadness emanating from him?

Focus! It was no big deal. It was casual, totally nonchalant. You tell yourself right here and now in your head that you are not going to be hung up on it. You let it go months ago. You were not responsible for his feelings or his actions involving you or not. You remind yourself that you’re not heartless.

You don’t have the time to get involved like that and neither does he. You don’t have the time to give the thoughts attention and you feel ludicrous for even thinking about what ifs involving him. So you don’t. Now, however, with the warmth of his skin radiating hot enough that you can feel it through your denim jacket, those thoughts spark to life once more like moths to a flame.

The guilt that you shouldn’t even be feeling is back and you cannot help but wonder, was he upset with you that day? If he was, then why has he sought you back out again?

No, you know the answer. You knew it the moment you saw his face. The moment you saw the flashes of curiosity and delight and worry and hurt fleetingly brush his lovely features only to disappear so quickly you question if they had ever even come at all.

Junmyeon speaks, his tone light and curious, “Do you mind if I tag along? I’ll buy.” He is pointedly not looking at you, instead keeping his eyes trained on the gravel he gently digs the tips of his shoes into it to fling pieces of it across the expanse.

You keep walking, but are glad for his questions so you can get out of your head. You don’t want to stop and discuss your confusion on this entire situation. Loudly, your stomach protests once more, appealing to his request.

“I don’t mind, but you don’t need to buy my lunch.”

“But may I, please?” he looks at you from the corner of his eye as you move, “Think of it as payment for my request for your time.” His visage is genuine this time, but you don’t miss the way he holds his breath as you pass through the wrought iron gate.

“If you’re insisting.” you smirk in return. You think you really do enjoy his company and conversation, regardless of the prospect for more when you last met.

“I certainly am.”

“You choose then?” you challenge, both of you pausing outside the gate before he decides to go left, toward the busier part of town.

You cough, adjusting your bag on your shoulder, “Aren’t you worried, even a little, about being spotted out with me?” You can’t help nervously fidgeting with your hair, tucking it back and then fluffing it around your face to give you some sort of shield.

He hums again, “No, not really.” then shrugs, “If it somehow circulates, it wouldn’t be a lie to say we’re just friends, right?”

Your face falls, but you don’t let him see it. “Uh…right.” Just be casual. What did you expect? You slept together on the premise of a one night stand, with no intention of continuing that relation whatsoever.

But, here you are with him. Feeling his calm warmth wash over you, pulling you toward him with some invisible magnet that you can’t understand. It still feels natural, as if, perhaps, you really are just friends going for lunch.

Friends who fucked once.

Silence follows, but you don’t get the feeling he is uncomfortable. Just the opposite in fact, seeming to buzz with excitement in his step, a happy tune wafting from his nose as he leads you to the row of restaurants and cafes near the busiest district in the city.

“I hope you’re hungry,“ he says "because we’re having sushi.” Suddenly, his big brown eyes are staring at you. His genuine personality is refreshing, but takes some time to get used to.

You give him a warm smile in return, “Sushi? I’m a college student, I live off of coffee and cheap eats for a living.”

“Fair enough, but I’m buying, remember?” he pouts, side-eyeing you.

You mouth waters and you hold up a hand in defeat, “No protest here. That sounds delicious, I was just saying.”

Junmyeon titters and pauses his stride, nudging you softly with his shoulder to go toward the crosswalk at the corner, refusing to remove his hands from his pockets.

“Excellent. It’s right there.” he tosses his head to a window fronted place you have seen a handful of times but never ventured into. It looked relatively low profile, with a plain black paint job and a wooden sign, accented with industrial steel fixtures.

Junmyeon holds the door open for you before following you inside and shuffling with you toward the counter. “What kind of drink would you like?” he asks.

Your eyes flick briefly to the menu board above your heads, “Uh, just an americano is fine, thank you.”

“Alright, go pick a table. Are you cool with an assortment?” he asks, his hands gesturing around with the question. You answer with an enthusiastic nod of your head.

He put his hand on your back, guiding you to leave the line and find a seat. The heat radiating from his palm soothes the otherwise electric shock that ran down your spine at his touch.

You think it’s best to shake it off, instead busying yourself with choosing the perfect table. Somewhere deep into the cafe, with tall backed plush booths and dimmed overhead lighting. Away from the windows, with wall sconces of light filtering more clearly at each table, creating a warmer, cozy atmosphere.

You tuck this place away in your head for future study locations, especially during the winter. Only when you can afford it, of course.

Just as you finished making yourself comfortable, Junmyeon rounds the bar with a tray in his hands. He’s grinning again, setting the tray down with an eager kind of delight before dolling out the the chopsticks.

Your coffee smells amazing, and the roll portions are a good size, too. “I hope you like it.” he chimes, moving the tray out of the way and breaking his chopsticks.

“Thank you for this.” you say, meaning every word, “It looks amazing.”

His reply, “It tastes even better.” leaves a lingering thought in the air. Was he implying…?

There is no time to dwell on it any further when your stomach forces another opinionated gurgle upon your silence. Following his lead, you eat.

The food is delicious and you dine in relative silence. Occasionally, he asks you about your classes between mouthfuls of fish and rice.

“Wow, that’s impressive.” he claims.

“Me, or the sushi?” Your cheeky smile makes him laugh in return.

“Obviously the sushi.”

You nearly cackle, barking a laugh at his off the wall and unexpected answer and covering your mouth. After you calm down, he continues, “I’m serious though. That’s a lot on your plate for one semester.”

“Yeah, well, it has to get done.” Wow even the avocado is fresh.

“How much longer do you have?”

You swallow, “I graduate next spring, I hope. There’s a class I’ll need to finish, but only so many students get in every semester.”

Junmyeon takes a long pull from his own coffee, “I see.” followed with, “How about work? Are you still at the high profile gig?”

Popping another piece of roll into your mouth, you nod.

“Do you like it there?” he seems honestly curious, not just making small talk to fill the silence. He takes another bite of his meal while he waits for you to speak.

“I do. It pays well and it isn’t hard so I can really focus on my school work. Plus Soohyun is there, so…” you trail off with a blush, recalling the last time you spoke to Soohyun about Junmyeon.

He raises an eyebrow at you, “Soohyun… Soohyun.”

“The other server from that night.” you clarify, and you both know exactly what night you’re referring to.

“Sorry, I didn’t really notice anyone else.” he chuckles gently, wiping panko crumbs from his mouth with a napkin.

You mirror his expression, “Yeah, me either.” The air grows a little tense between you in the silence. It seems the tension between you is still mutual, thickening in the lull that settles over the meal between you.

There is an entire monologue going on in his head. Even with a mouth full of food from across the table, you can see the cogs working in his brilliant mind. The questions he asks himself and the puzzle he is trying to put together in his head with his brow knitted tightly.

You decide to give him some space and not make it weird. You busy yourself with a giant swig of coffee and it burns your tongue, but you swallowed and excuse yourself from the booth.

“I’ll be right back. I just need to use the restroom.” You provide, watching him. He only nods at you, rubbing the tip of his chopsticks over his bottom lip.

When you return, his gaze snaps to yours with a certain kind of slow intensity, but he remains silent until you are back into your seat.

Just before you can pluck another piece from the Spicy Girl roll between you, he speaks, “Are you free today?”

You don’t move, instead eyeing him, “I am. Why?” There is an unease settling in your stomach, and you’re retracting your chopsticks from the platter, empty.

“Would you” he begins, laughing at his own bashfulness and scratching at his cheek, “Would you like to come back with me?”

There it is. You can’t help but feel like you shouldn’t. You know it would feel the same as it did last time once it was over, if not worse. You don’t want to have your thoughts occupied by him when you should be focusing. When he was only a temporary lover. When he isn’t yours to think about or have feelings for. That’s cruel to do to yourself.

“Junmyeon, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” You whisper, eyes dropping to his pouted lips.

His brow knits again and he looks upset, like he wasn’t expecting you to say that. He folds his hands in front of him and smiles aporetically down at the last few pieces of food, “Was it that bad?”

Your chest constricts painfully at his question. “Of course not! That has nothing to do with it.” Your eyes dart around the space outside the booth for prying eyes. It’s the perfect time, after lunch but before dinner, so there are nearly zero patrons.

"Do you regret it?” He bites out as politely as possible, schooling his scowl into a neutral vacancy.

“No!”

Junmyeon huffs and busies himself with turning the table tablet toward himself and gently swiping his back card.

You hate the silence, so you continue, not revealing the entirety of your reluctance but indulging him with half of the truth, “I like to think I’m not vain, and I’m not terrible to look at.” you stall, catching his eyes watching you as he pushes buttons and signs his name.

“But why me? I mean, look at me, I’m no ulzzang. Then look at you, you’re… you know, you.“ Your hands gesture at him in frustration, failing to find an appropriate single word to describe him.

“So?” he states incredulously, “Does that mean I can’t enjoy your company?” He chooses not to comment on your question of why.

You pout in return until an obscure, hellish thought enters your mind and your voice grows thick with whispered conviction, “I seriously hope you don’t think it’s because I’m easy.”

Junmyeon’s brows shoot up into his hairline and he looks at you in shock followed by hurt, but he doesn’t say anything. You realize immediately when your temper flared with the thought, you forgot that this is Junmyeon you’re talking to. You would never think that of him.

“I’m sorry. I… that was rude.”

“Don’t be.” he quips, resigning himself to stand from the table. You follow him back out into the breeze and he doesn’t seem to mind that you’re still beside him as he walks.

After one block of city streets, he whirls on you suddenly, “You’re sure I didn’t hurt you or something? You didn’t hate it?”

You shake your head at him, “Absolutely not. I enjoyed it very much.”

He removes his black hat for a moment only to run his hand through his hair aggressively and replace it on his head.

“Look,” he starts, moving you both into a small shop alcove and out of the way for other pedestrians, “I know I’m not as great as my band members. But I-“

You cut him off sharply, “I don’t care about your band members, Junmyeon! I didn’t want to sleep with any of them that night and that hasn’t changed! Do you seriously think I’m settling for you because you’re the only one who gave me attention?”

He tries, “But Jongdae-“

Silenced again, you try to keep your voice level and not shout at him, but you are so angry at him for insinuating. “Is that really what you think of me?” His expression is bewildered and confused. You’re both anxious, arguing on the streets of the city for all to watch.

The look of hurt he sees on your face makes him lean closer, “No! That’s not what I’m trying to say at all. I’m trying to say I’m sorry I’m not as good as them!”

Now you’re angry all over again, but for the opposite reason. You soften for him, letting your rage simmer, “Junmyeon. I don’t want you to apologize to me then. I want you to apologize to yourself for thinking that. I wish you would think better about yourself. Don’t you see how amazing you are?”

“How amazing Suho is, you mean.” He bites in a low tone.

“Suho is a part of you. I don’t remember calling Suho’s name that night. Suho isn’t the one I wanted.” He frowns momentarily until you clarify further, “I wanted Junmyeon that night. I wanted you.” You jab a finger toward his chest to emphasize your point.

He breathes into your space, and you watch his Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallows.

“Was it only for that night?” His voice is so soft, like the words might shatter if he said them with more force. It is easy to see he is bracing for you to say yes.

“Well, no.” you disclose carefully.

He smiles, “Then why not?”

“Because I still want you.”

Junmyeon lifts one brow, “…because you still want me?” he pulls back just enough to look at you completely, gauging your face.

You look to the ground. You are never good with this kind of thing. It’s why short term relationships or one night stands once in a blue moon are better for you. You fall too hard too fast and don’t know how to handle those emotions. You believe you’re naive.

“It’s not a good idea, because I still want you.” You take a deep breath, “Even if it’s not for keeps. Even if I know I shouldn’t. Even if I know it will hurt when it’s over and we go our separate ways tomorrow. Even if I know there’s no promise I might ever meet you again. Even,” you pause, looking up to him now, “Even if it’s just like this.”

Junmyeon is silent but his face is slack and softened.

“And that makes me feel crazy. We both said we never do this kind of thing because neither of us have the time. That’s all it was supposed to be.” Your arms curl around yourself, shrugging your shoulders and looking anywhere but his face.

He chuckles, bringing his hands to your sides and closing them into loose fists, resisting, before dropping them back into his pockets with a deep sigh.

“Then why shouldn’t we indulge when we get the opportunity?” he implores with a huff into the air above your head. “I couldn’t bring myself to just pass you by when I saw you earlier.”

You smooth your dress down against your legs idly, eyes focused on the collar of his yellow flannel.

The handsome man in front of you speaks again, quietly, “I would really like to kiss you right now, but we’re in public.” He pauses before adding, “I would really like to do other things, too, if you want to. Even if it will make it difficult tomorrow, because it would have been harder to swallow if I had just passed you by.”

You reach out, plucking a stray hair off of the sleeve of his shirt, flicking it away in the wind. You want to indulge him and you crave him just as you did the first time now that he is standing here within arms-reach and wanting you, too.

So you look him in the eye and ask what has been plaguing your mind since you left his bed that morning.

“Were you upset when you woke up that morning and I was gone?”

Junmyeon hesitates, watching you watch him in return. You keep the guilt from it locked away neatly when faced with him, and the honest, vulnerable way the word ‘yes’ writes itself across his features makes your heart ache bitterly.

He doesn’t have to say the word for you to know. The expressive way he is looking at you, right down to your bones, is enough to make you understand that he sees you. Enough to make him understand that you see him, too.

Without much verbal debate, he guides you down the street and into a tall building. “Wave goodbye to me. Then go to the rest room.” He points to a crevice in the spacious lobby behind the escalator, “When you come out, there’s an elevator on the other side of the escalator. Go up to room fifteen on the eleventh floor.”

He smiles at you tepidly, too still and polite as if simply giving directions to a stranger. You’re confused by his sudden change in demeanor until you realize he is already dropping into his act and waving goodbye to you with both hands, turning away to head for the large main elevator to the left of the desk.

You wave back, albeit a little robotically since you’re not used to doing this so suddenly, before walking away to the right, towards the ladies room.

Given the opportunity, you might as well freshen up as best you can. You pull your dress down, attempting to flatten a few wrinkles and reapplying your lip balm.

As you exit and make your way up to floor eleven, you can’t fight the way your cheeks hurt from smiling. Your nerves are replaced with excitement today and a weightlessness you were not expecting to feel during this time of year. Not with the final for your hardest class creeping up quickly.

You knock only once before the door flies open and you’re being tugged inside. A cacophony of complaints are being tossed around the room as you enter. Junmyeon’s fingers around your hand are a warmth that makes you sigh.

What you are not expecting is Sehun. You supposed with an afterthought, your lover might not always get a room by himself; that might become expensive for their company.

The younger, taller boy is loud. Louder than you had ever seen him be, either in private dining or on stage. His complaints are centered around the inconvenience of being kicked from his own room at your expense and you suddenly feel sheepish when his eyes landed on you.

“Oh, it’s you.” He states plainly, and not exactly in the most pleasant tone. He raises one dark eyebrow in your direction, rocking back on his heels shortly before he moves past you with a disgruntled huff.

“Get out.” Junmyeon interrupts his staring, leaving you momentarily to unplug a phone charger from the wall and stuffing a pair of Sehun’s pajamas into his arms along with the cord, shooing the maknae toward the door.

“Hyung, this is so uncool.” Sehun moans, keeping his foot in the door as Junmyeon tries to shut it. His impatience makes you giggle.

Junmyeon sighs, turning toward you with a wide grin, “Y/N, do you think I’m lame?”

You laugh, covering your mouth to shake your head at Sehun’s frown, “I think you’re the coolest.”

Junmyeon truly smiles broader than you have ever seen before at your compliment, “Thank you, sweetheart. See? She thinks I’m cool. Now get out.” The threatening expression that drops over his handsome face at the younger man makes your stomach flip flop with desire. You think in the back of your mind how much you know you might enjoy it if he punished you with that face.

Sehun denies it, “Okay first of all- gross. Second, she doesn’t count!” before adding, “Yah, hyung you know I can’t sleep alone!”

“Go bother someone else. Minseok got a single this time, go sleep with him!” he orders before shutting the door completely.

Junmyeon turns back to you, a devilish smirk growing across his mouth.

“Sorry about that.” He says, turning sheepish. His hands gently pull you to into his embrace, mouths drawing closer, whispering, “I feel like a college kid kicking his roommate out.”

Your bubbling laughter against his mouth is cut short by his lips, soft but eager to press against your own.

The electricity immediately lights your skin, kissing him back with fervor. This time, the difference is not the awkward attempt to figure out how to kiss you. Junmyeon remembers just how to kiss you, licking hotly into your mouth to make you squirm in his arms. His tongue demands a space to pet against your own.

He hums, appreciating the flavor of your lips. Taking advantage, he licks, nips and kisses all of the newly applied balm from your soft pout.

His hands deftly guide you back a step, just enough to let your back touch the wall before they are trailing all over. Up the back of your arm to your neck, down to your breasts, across your hip to dig into your ass.

Your want for him grows impatient with his expert kisses and fleeting touches. All hot lava in your mouth but feathers against your skin. Your jacket is heavy and warm suddenly, too restricting for such an activity. Junmyeon can feel your frustration, releasing you momentarily and appreciating the way your chest bows out toward him as you reach behind yourself to yank each sleeve from your arm before you toss it onto a bed.

With a sigh you relax back against the wall, demanding he curl closer into you while his mouth plants kisses across your cheek to your jaw, to your ear, to the sensitive place just behind it. Your nails dig into his arms as he nibbles the soft flesh, sucking just enough to tease and not leave a mark.

You moan, tilting your head for him. The feeling of his smile spreading against your neck is nice, and he continues his path over your neck to your shoulder, wet open mouthed kisses planting seeds of desire along your skin. The action makes you hiss and shiver against the sturdy confines of his body.

His hands are bunching the fabric of your dress before he passes it all into one hand to slide his palm up the back of your thigh with the other. When his fingertips dip just under the edge of your panties to take a handful of your ass in his grip, he groans.

“Junmyeon.” You whine, picking up the same leg to put your knee at his hip. He takes your hint, stepping into you fully to hoist your limbs up and around his hips.

Neither of you care about the impatience, too busy remembering how good you feel against the one another. The instant relief of him pressed against your center coerces a moan, your arms wrapping around his shoulders.

He kisses you again, flexing his hips into your own against him, sighing into your mouth when you bring one hand down to pop the button of his jeans open. It’s a feat you aren’t sure how you managed.

“Like this?” he asks, hoping you catch his meaning.

The idea of it sends a shudder down your spine and you feel silly for asking him if he can manage it like this, so you don’t voice it.

Instead, “If that’s what you want.” You’re worried he might not be able to hold up all of your weight for the entire event.

Junmyeon grins against your lips, one hand leaving your ass as he pushes you further against the wall.

“Lift your hips for me, sweetheart.” He coos, struggling a little but ultimately freeing himself from his pants. The heat of him, heavy, hot and hard against your throbbing pussy has you sighing happily, gently swiveling your hips against him.

He chokes on a moan against your neck, settling you back against his lap and pulling the full weight of your behind into himself. Junmyeon chuckles huskily, feeling you tense up just enough for him to notice, "Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”

A blush quickly spreads itself over your cheeks and you smile at him, “Okay.”

He kisses you. He is always kissing you, but hungrily this time, groaning into it as you bring a hand between your bodies to stroke the head of him.

Just as you’re slipping your thumb through the pre cum gathering at his tip, Junmyeon pushes you against the wall again, using his leverage to lock the crook of your knee and his elbow together. You hold on tighter when you realize he’s letting go.

It doesn’t last long. Only a moment is needed as he pulls your panties to the side roughly, letting one finger trail through your arousal with a long, unfiltered groan.

“So good for me, sweetheart.” he praises, adding, “So fucking wet. Is it all for me?” with a growl.

You keen, moaning at his words as a hot blush paints your ears. You realize you have a penchant for him like this. The angelic tenor of his voice whispering dirty words to you in such an intimate space has your cunt fluttering with a pang of emptiness.

“Tell me.” he demands, lubricating himself and rubbing your clit with the head of his swollen cock.

“Yes!” you whine, trying to raise your hips against him to chase the friction and get him to move more.

“Good girl.” he whispers, pulling hard on your panties again and lifting you just enough to sink the entire length of himself all at once into your waiting heat with a strangled moan against your neck. The sound of his beautiful voice dripping with such pleasure has you shuddering in his arms.

“Fuck, ‘Myeonnie.” you mewl. Gravity is your best friend in this moment, aiding your weight to feel every inch of him inside of you. You relish in the stretch, flexing your hips as best as you can to match the pace of his conquest.

This isn’t the same kind of sex it was last time. Neither of you are taking the time to map and explore and remember each moment. Instead, you’re so hungry to feel one another again that he is driving into with a brutal rhythm, his biceps taught to keep you in his hold.

You’re vaguely aware your spine and shoulder blades are going to be sore tomorrow from the force of his thrusts, your bones digging into the unforgiving drywall behind you. You can’t be bothered to care right now. Not while the sight, sound and feel of Junmyeon fucking into you against the wall of his hotel room is happening. Not while he instructs you to rub your clit between your bodies with a growl and a furrowed brow. His pretty lips are wet and swollen, catching the light as they drop open or he bites them, stuttering out groans alongside particularly deep thrusts.

Everything in this space is turning you on. The light but present scent of his cologne mixed with the smell of sex. The humid, sticky dampness of his forehead pressed against your shoulder. His soft brown hair that will surely tickle your nose if you turn your head just a fraction. The rough fabric of his jeans rubbing at your behind, sure to leave some sort of burn if you’re not careful.

It spikes your pleasure higher knowing neither of you could wait long enough to properly remove your clothes. You try to time your stimulation with his thrusts, but he is burying himself into you with abandon, murmurs of praise and profanities pouring from his mouth as he takes you.

He straightens his back for a better angle, and you don’t think you’ll ever find his focused, furrowed brows unattractive. The way he is so intently fixated on the sight of his cock disappearing between your thighs is quickly becoming one of your favorite things about him. The way his cheekbones screw his face tight with pleasure. Perhaps burning that image in your head could be of use when you’re alone and desperate.

Reaching out, you use your free hand to ground yourself to him further, curling your fingers around his bicep. Feeling the solid muscle makes you squeeze him and he groans once more. He smiles, too, as his eyes flick up to catch yours. It is with that thought that you swat at his oversized flannel, pushing it to fall off of one shoulder just enough to let your fingers slide beneath the sleeve of his tee to feel his smooth skin.

Your orgasm is so close you have to close your eyes, focusing on the pleasure coiling tighter through you like a white hot knife. Junmyeon can feel it instantly, the way your body begins to tense around him. The way your pussy constricts its grip around his aching cock.

“That’s it sweetheart. Let me feel it.” he growls with pleasure, gritting his teeth and driving himself into you with a pace you don’t want him to falter.

You’re trembling, taken over by the reality of the situation. The flavor of it is one you are afraid you might become addicted to, heavy and sweet on your tongue with bliss. Your nails dig crescents into his arm and you hear him hiss. Watching him sweat and fuck you like he wants to possess you makes you fall over the edge.

You cry out, letting your head thud back against the wall as he chases you to completion. Even still, through his pleasure, he checks, “A-are you on… a contraceptive?”

Panting openly as you shake in his hold, you don’t respond. It feels so good, so fucking incredible. How can he even think clearly right now with your velvet heat beckoning him to join you in euphoria?

He groans, “Sweetheart I- I need to… fuck. I need to know.”

You nod weakly at him, barely choking out the word 'yes’ before his hips pick up speed, pistoning into you for a moment before he buries his face in your neck and moans, long and loud. His hips stutter, “Fuck, you… feel so good. I’m gonna come.”

His voice sounds desperately broken and you find yourself sweating suddenly at the words he whispers so close to your neck. His sounds of pleasure are music to your ears as he finds his release.

You moan softly right along with him, letting your fingers climb to the back of his neck to card gently through his hair. There’s an innate heat coupled with his full length blooming inside of you, and you swivel your hips to feel it more. Junmyeon delightedly shivers in your arms, gasping quietly while he regains his breath against your neck.

The space between you is without warning far more intimate and calm than it had been not thirty seconds ago. Only your mingled, ragged breathing froths in the air between you, chests still heaving with exertion as the last tides of adrenaline leave your veins.

Junmyeon turns his face just enough to plant a long, gentle kiss to the side of your neck. It makes your heart leap and flutter in your throat. He lifts his face, eyes searching for yours and he smiles when he looks at you. The expression on his face is beautiful. It is warm and glowing, further visualized by the tame afternoon sun filtering through the room and lighting the angles of his cheeks, lips and chin, the rounded tip of his nose, with a soft gleam.

It is in this moment that your heart disappears from your body altogether, stolen right from the safety of your chest with his stunning beauty. As if to mock you, you quickly remember that he is not yours and that it hurts to know you don’t get to wake up to this face every day.

Thankfully, Junmyeon doesn’t seem to perceive your crestfallen appearance. He only continues to smile at you coquettishly, embracing your limp body and leaning in to sample your lips slowly. As if you might believe he sees the same things in you. You wish that were the case, even though you know you shouldn’t.

He sighs happily at the feel of your lips, his own stretching thinner in a line against you when you protest against the feeling of him slipping from your core. Abruptly, he pulls your bodies from the wall, hands full of your thighs as he carries you to the bathroom.

Gently, he sets your ass on the cold granite of the sink and you yelp at the icy chill against your skin. Junmyeon laughs at your reaction, his grin tucking into the corner of his mouth when you sulk.

He spins away, busying himself with the faucet of the shower and stripping his clothes. He looks to you as he kicks off the last leg of his jeans, hopping to the side one pace when he almost loses his balance.

You can’t help but bark out a laugh at him, your fit of giggles becoming more obnoxious as he glowers at you with a pout.

There is no need for words in this moment. You’re both content to bask in the silence, communicating through your actions while he steps to you and helps lift your dress over your head. He tosses it behind him and reaches for you once more, letting the weight of his palms slide up your arms in a comforting manner.

Junmyeon pulls your shoulders to him lightly, enough that he can reach around and unclasp your bra for you while the softness of his lips touches against your hairline. He pulls the straps back down your arms for you, his fingers so mild against your skin. He is watching you with a spark of… affection? in his eyes. A sudden slowness to paint himself a picture of your every atom in his mind like you’re made of stardust.

He steps back, giving you space to hop off the edge of the sink. Even though you feel wonderfully light and weightless, you can feel the cool stickiness of his release sliding down your thighs. You waste no time in slipping off your soiled panties and kicking them to their own corner of the room before you follow him into the steaming comfort of the shower.

Of course, he is gentlemanly enough to let you gorge on the brunt of the water first, instead content to run his fingers along the tops of your shoulders, the curves of your waist, the round slopes of your hips. Every scar and pock mark he can reach. Your first task is to clean yourself of the mess he made between your legs.

Now, you reach for the shampoo, opting to run your fingers through his hair with it, scratching the suds along his scalp. Junmyeon nearly purrs, but cocks one eyebrow and coyly lets you do as you please, amused by the playfulness in your eyes.

He does much of the same to you, twisting the strands of your hair with his fingers, frothing it with the shampoo before he lets you rinse. You yelp, giving him a quick glare and a wet slap to his chest when he plucks the bud of your breast while you closed your eyes to tip your head back under the spray.

Junmyeon laughs, trying to act like he didn’t do anything wrong under the scrutiny of your gaze.

You repeat the same series of motions, passing the small bottle of conditioner between yourselves. You force Junmyeon to switch places with you this time, refusing to rinse your hair first. He laughs loudly when you make a face and pass your own fingers over one of his nipples.

Slowly, the lightness of the moment and the sex wear off, evaporating from your skin with the steam of the shower. Monotonously, you let the wonderful man with you run his hands along your body, reveling in the tenderness of his silent task as he runs the soap around your figure. He doesn’t notice your shifting mood.

He doesn’t see the way your eyes climb his body and pause on his face, trying desperately to look into his head and burn every part of him into your memory. You were right all along, knowing just how much this was going to hurt both of you, but here you are, doing it anyway.

You can’t help but feel like it is ridiculous. You don’t love him, not by any means, but you wouldn’t say that you don’t think there’s an undeniable chemistry between you. You don’t deny how natural and good it feels when you’re with him, even fully clothed, stuffing your faces with sushi or sitting on a park bench and jesting. You don’t deny the way he makes your heart shake with some sort of feeling when he is looking into you as if he knows the map of your very soul. You don’t deny the crushing ache of it when you know you’ll leave and you have no guarantee you will ever meet him again.

Most of all, you don’t deny the crushing guilt of giving him these same memories, so cruel is your shared selfishness. The staggering weight of knowing how empty he will feel, just the same if not more than your own. His longing for companionship written so delicately in the way he is caring for you right now.

He is drawing out every pass of his fingers along your skin, his eyes blazing a path right behind his hands, taking you in. It squeezes the air from your lungs to imagine him tomorrow, or the day after that and the week after that, without someone to catch him. Without someone to hold him up when he is tired and stressed and unable to rest because of the unending weight upon his broad, weary shoulders. You know, without any trace of doubt, that he is strong. Very much so, but he is also human.

He shouldn’t have to suffer, and you are incredibly aware of his unspoken words. His body language, his tenderness, his focused movements against you and his pleading eyes. You are hearing the thoughts in his head that he doesn’t know how to verbalize, or can’t or won’t. It doesn’t matter, because you can hear them and see them and feel them with every second that dissipates between you.

Junmyeon gently pulls you out of your thoughts to coax you back under the heat of the water, swapping you to rinse while he washes himself with a tranquil smile.

You blink rapidly, willing away the thoughts plaguing you. You let the sting of the water soothe the ache settling in your shoulders, falling down your back in an endless wave of heat. When you’ve had enough you turn, raising your arms to let the water wash away the feeling of lead in your stomach. You will enjoy this, you chastise yourself with a frown. What’s done is done, you’ll already suffer, you tell yourself.

Junmyeon’s hands find your arms again, softly swaying you backwards just a little. His hands gather your hair and move it to one side as his lips find the back of your neck.

“Will you stay?” he asks quietly against the line of your shoulder.

Your heart sinks. Junmyeon can feel you tense up.

“I don’t know…” you begin slowly, letting your head hang, wishing the pitter patter against your scalp were loud enough to drown out your spinning thoughts.

He sighs, turning you in his hold. You feel the shame wash over you, the comforting heat of the shower not enough to stop the icy shiver your body responds with. He doesn’t force you to meet his eyes.

“Why?” You applaud his strength. His ability to keep his feelings from seeping into his voice as he simply questions.

“Because this will hurt enough tomorrow without staying.” Your words are clearly heard and Junmyeon pauses, letting them sink into his ears. He makes a sound akin to sucking his teeth.

This time, his hand rises and he pauses again with his fingers outstretched toward your chin. You can tell he is uncertain now if he should even touch you.

“You keep saying that.” he states carefully before deciding to be selfish enough to make you look at him. His hold is still calm as he lifts your chin, tilting his own face down to catch your eyes when they refuse to lift from his neck.

He continues, “You said you didn’t regret it, so why do you say it hurts?”

You don’t answer him right away, gritting your teeth behind your closed lips.

He doesn’t let up, “Was it not good enough to outweigh this hurt you keep feeling?”

Your eyes snap to his fully, watching his frustrated expression morph into one of sadness. He is staring at you, uncaring about the water dripping from his hair into his eyes.

“Because how can I enjoy it so much that I don’t care about how lonely you will be?” you say quietly, your brow furrowing up at him.

“We’re not supposed to get attached.” you whisper. Your head suddenly feels too heavy for your shoulders. You let it fall to his sternum, thumping against it softly.

“I’m not heartless, Junmyeon. I can’t keep doing this when you look at me like I’m filling the void in here.” you say, nudging his chest more with your head for emphasis.

Junmyeon is still. You can feel his heart steadily in his chest, but he doesn’t move. You feel more than see him laugh softly after a long moment.

He doesn’t move your head from his chest, but you can feel the vibrations of his voice when he asks, “How could I possibly by lonely when the world is watching me? When I have a family of brothers and millions of fans supporting me?”

You stand up straight, letting your fingers trace the hardened divets of his abdomen, “Suho might not be lonely, but Junmyeon is.”

He doesn’t fight you on it, but his face shifts into something perhaps… scared? Afraid you’ve exposed some great secret he never intended to have revealed. He looks at you like just maybe you are right, having broken through any lines of his well crafted defense in one instant, without knowing it or trying at all, and that scares the shit out of him.

A second passes between you and you smile sadly at him. Reassuring, as if to say his secret is safe with you, and he is smitten. He is safe.

His head dips and he captures your lips in a kiss too sweet for the ones you shared only minutes ago. You wrap your arms around his middle, tugging him back under the water to let him rinse and relax.

He smiles against your lips at the gesture. Your fingers splay against his stomach, and his charming personality is back. He lets you in. Your heavy thoughts are swept down the drain with the water as he watches you.

“What about you, then? Aren’t you lonely, too?” he challenges.

Your smile is tepid, but his light is infections and you find your spirit lifting from its grave, “Sometimes.”, you nod.

He grins, “You didn’t miss me at all?”

The tone of his question has a laugh lifting from you, as if it would be absurd not to, “…Maybe a little.”

He laughs along with you, grinning flirtatiously with wiggling brows, “Only when you needed to, right?”

You don’t miss his insinuation, instead lightly punching him in the chest.

“Hey, I-!” he shouts happily, seizing up to block your fingers from pinching his pectoral.

“Well, you didn’t answer.” he says after a moment, running his palms over his face and slicking back his hair with perhaps a little too much showy muscle flexing.

You blush at how good he looks with one simple move. Junmyeon doesn’t miss the opportunity to tease you, knowing full and well what he is doing and how much it’s starting to turn you on.

“Go ahead, I could use the ego boost.” he chides.

Your mouth drops open, incredulous as you speak, “Yah, maybe I should never compliment you if you’re going to be a little shit about it!”

Junmyeon howls, his eyes closing in happy half circles as his head dips back with laughter. He is still laughing when an idea pops into your head. You’ll put him back in his place.

You sink to your knees, hands grabbing at his thighs as you kiss the angles of his hips.

He jumps, nearly choking on water as he gasps.

It only takes a moment of your heated eye contact and dangerous palms for him to twitch to life. Your lips never stop their random patterns against his stomach, his hips, his thighs. Everywhere except where he needs you until he shifts.

His body angles, back bent over with one arm leaning against the tile as he shields you from getting water in your eyes. You look up to him before you touch, your mouth hovering at his groin, less than an inch away from him.

His eyes drop, barely open when you lick your lips deliberately. His own follow suit, dropping open with a groan as you give one tentative lick, grasping the base of him with one hand.

You smile up at his reaction, giving a firm stroke and letting your lips envelope him. Softly, his hips stutter. Your remaining hand is against his thigh, strong enough to help keep him in place where you want him.

Junmyeon seems perfectly content to watch his cock disappear anywhere into you, but especially into your warm mouth, the melody of his pleasure pouring from his lips unlike anything you’ve ever heard.

You work him in a moderate rhythm for a few moments, letting your tongue swirl around his head and your teeth just barely graze along his member to have him hissing a gasp. His free hand finds its way into your hair, taking a gentle fist of it to take over your pace. You swat at him, pushing yourself away from him and pouting. You aren’t finished experimenting.

A deep chuckle rumbles in his chest. He understanding what you’re up to and releases your hair to drag his nails up the side of his own thigh instead. He sighs when you resume your feast upon him.

His unoccupied fist remains at his side, open palm running along his own body or clenching and unclenching at his side as you take him deeper into your mouth.

He moans deeply, throwing his head back and releasing all of the air in his lungs when your nose struggles to reach the soft plane of his abdomen.

“Fuck.” he breathes, his brows knitting together and you hum.

You relent for a moment to kiss the tip of him, letting your tongue collect the saltiness of his arousal before teasing him, sucking just around the head.

You let go, speaking, “Did you think of me, too?” The faltering stare he gives you tells you he definitely did.

He squirms, trying to bury himself back in your pretty mouth. When you don’t comply, instead grinning wildly at him, he pulls you up from the floor of the shower with a growl.

Junmyeon is riled up, and the stern look he sends you as he maneuvers you to bend against the wall has a shiver of pleasure rolling down your spine.

“Since you won’t take it all in that pretty mouth of yours, maybe you’ll take it all here instead.” he whispers hotly against the shell of your ear, grabbing himself and rubbing the head of his cock through your folds.

You whimper in response, gyrating your hips back into his. One of his hands slides to your stomach, cradling you as be breeches your walls with a shallow thrust. Your hands shoot out to steady yourself against the wall.

Moaning, your head falls forward. He continues just like this, building a frustration in you with only the head of his delicious cock teasing you.

“It’s not nice to tease, sweetheart.” he comments, teeth pressing into your shoulder with just enough bite to make you hiss.

Willfully, you lift your head and crane your neck to speak, “You… you teased me, too!”

Junmyeon chuckles, his eye smile invading your peripheral. “I s-suppose you’re right.” he says, then slams the fullness of himself into you.

Your cry breaks into a moan at the delightful stretch.

“Shit…” he moans, “Is that better?”

You mewl, nodding at him. Abruptly, his fingers are sinking down from your abdomen to your clit, and he presses tight circles against it in time with his thrusts.

Goosebumps light along your arms with pleasure. Your chest heaves, nerve endings alight with every inch of him inside. He groans above you, his hips digging into your ass. It feels so much better without any clothes.

Part of you wishes you could see his face. See the way he bites his lips or grits his teeth to stave off his pleasure.

“Fuck,” you hear him speak softly, followed by a moan, “so fucking good.”

You imagine he must be close, hearing it in the way his voice pitches and he whines lowly against your back.

“Sweetheart…”, you feel his forehead press against your back, “I’m not going to last, you feel too good.”

The idea of him losing his composure so quickly has you giggling, twisting your neck once more to smile at him. “It’s okay, I want you to come.”

The sweetness of his smile melts you. The pleasure he gives you feels wonderful, but you’re still recovering from your last earth shattering orgasm. You know he’ll make you come in other ways, so you push your hips back harder, clenching around him purposefully.

“Stay.” he kisses against your ear, panting breath fanning the side of your face with his plea, “Be selfish. I want you to stay.”

Junmyeon groans, suddenly pulling his cock from you and pumping himself furiously against the cleft of your bottom. His fingers are digging into your ass as you watch, best as you can when he comes on your back with a choked groan.

The evidence of his ecstasy disappears almost immediately, the now cooling water washing it away where it still rains against your bodies.

He slumps against you, softening cock still in hand.

“I’m sorry.” he starts, frowning just slightly. You never did answer him.

You laugh, turning around to kiss his pout away, “It’s alright. I’m cool with it.”

He’s leaning against the wall of the shower with his eyes closed, puffing out his cheeks while he regains his breath. He watches you from the corner of his eye, appreciating your figure standing under the cooling water, ensuring your back is rinsed clean.

Junmyeon recovers, pushing himself from the wall to reach behind you, turning off the water. You don’t remove yourself from his proximity, instead letting your arms circle under his arms with a sigh.

He holds you like this, closely in silence, until you shiver with the chill of being wet. He bends only enough to dip his head and kiss your cheek.

Your lover’s hair is sticking all over when he shakes his head before stepping out. He grabs both neatly hung, pristine white towels from the rod, passing one to you before he pats himself off with the other. You dry, but the dull throbbing of your core is uncomfortable. He watches you press your thighs together with a laugh.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.” he announces.

The spark of his eyes hasn’t gone away and he licks his lips slowly, knowing you’re watching him do it. It doesn’t take much to imagine exactly what he has in mind.

You’re standing in front of the bed before you realize, with Junmyeon pulling on a pair of boxers before he’s drawing you onto the linens with him.

Momentarily, you’re confused by the position he takes, situating himself to lay on his back at the head of the bed.

“But?” you begin, tilting your head.

He grins at you, beckoning with his hands, “But what? I want to eat you out, sweetheart.”

A heated blush is scorching across your face quickly, “Oh.” You don’t move otherwise, remaining in your place at his side.

He can’t mean…? You’re happy to let him have his way with you, but sitting on someone’s face is a fear you’re not ready to face. A door you’re not ready to open or acknowledge. Even if you’re happy with your body, you’re still the weight of an entire person sitting on someones only source of air. You’ve always been afraid to try and frankly, turned off by the idea.

“Come here… please?” he tries.

“Junmyeon, I- I can’t.” you panic, looking around the room.

He immediately understands he’s touched something he wasn’t supposed to and he backpedals. His spine comes off the bed so quickly you’re sure he’s broken it, briskly pulling you against his frame.

“Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

You pull his head, burying his face in your chest and hugging his shoulders tightly.

You can hear him softly, muffled by your bosom, “I don’t ever want to make you uncomfortable.” He squeezes your body in return.

“I’m okay. You didn’t know.” you declare quietly.

He lifts his head from your skin, “If you lay down can I still eat you out? I want to, but if you don’t want it that’s okay, too.”

You could cry at how sweet he is. Too attentive. Too affectionate and caring and worried to just be an occasional fuck buddy, or multiple night stand. To be whatever it is you are with him.

You will yourself to relax from the sincerity of him alone, and you can’t deny there’s still an ache of slick wetness at the apex of your thighs. Nothing has to be said as you simply release him to make yourself cozy against the pillows, perhaps only a tiny bit fidgety.

Junmyeon grins at you, delicately parting your thighs and keeping his eyes on yours as he sinks to his stomach, lining his face with your heat.

“Just relax, I’ll make you feel good.” he coos, kissing each word into your hip. You hold your breath for just a second, releasing it at once with a long moan when the flat of his tongue runs, heavy and leisurely through your folds.

He hums his approval, tasting you lasciviously, as if he might never get to do so again.

Your head tips back, eyes fluttering shut and your hand creeps into his hair, encouraging him further with a scraping of your nails through his wet locks.

Junmyeon moans salaciously, scooping his hands underneath to palm your ass, pushing you further against his face as he wreaks havoc upon your clit, sucking, licking, nipping you between his lip covered teeth.

Every flick of his devilish tongue has you grinding further against him, moans of his name falling from your lips when his head dips further and he releases your bottom, putting his thumbs to better use as he parts you even more.

Not one second is wasted as he uses the space created to spear his tongue into your aching cunt and undulate it against the parts of your walls he can reach. He licks into you not unlike blissful fire. One thumb brushes your pearl of nerves where his nose doesn’t quite reach.

You’re beginning to tremble, writhing on the bedding as he gorges himself on you without relent. He drives you higher, grunting when your fist takes hold of his hair, holding his head against your core.

Your orgasm approaches rapidly, this scene so explicit and lovely you don’t have time to dwell on how fast the impending snap of it takes you. Your hips are working of their own accord, flexing against him in your race for release.

He happily obliges, greedy and encouraging you to come all over his tongue. Only a look of carnal desire and a harsh suck to your clitoris is what it takes to have you coming undone around his head, crying out his name with a high pitched whine.

Junmyeon pulls every drop from you, licking at your pulsating core with a satisfied moan. When you’re finished, your back dropping limply back to the sheets, he raises his head to look at you.

He is smiling so sweetly, his lips, nose and chin shining with your release. “Good girl.” His voice sounds gravely.

He slides up to your face, kissing your lips briefly and smiling as you grimace at the taste of yourself on his lips. He rolls to his side and suddenly you’re being pulled by the waist until your back is contently pressed against his chest.

“You okay?” his voice breaks the silence, nuzzling into your shoulder as he spoons your body. You relax against him, still recovering your breath.

You smile, deciding instead that you would rather face him in his arms, “Yeah. Thank you.”

He smiles in return, allowing you to tuck your head into his neck. His chin finds a comfortable place, resting atop your head.

“That good, huh?”

You don’t have to look at him to hear the grin splitting his lips and you roll your eyes, laughing. Lightly, you flick him in the chest.

He laughs, too, followed by a sigh until it is his stomach growling this time that breaks you from the warmth of his arms.

Your eyes go wide as you try not to laugh at him.

“Shut up, that was a lot of exercise.” He reasons with a sheepish grin, but you don’t say anything, opting instead to kiss his clavicle.

His stomach makes a sound of protest again and you don’t hold back your laughter. Junmyeon wastes no time in smothering you with kisses, “Don’t laugh!”

It only serves to makes you giggle harder at him, cackling as your body twists in his hold. He settles after a moment, affectionately stuffing you back against his chest to stop your mocking.

After a quiet moment, “…do you want room service, or?” he inquires carefully.

For a brief moment you’re confused by the hanging end of his question. Oh, right. You never answered him. So you sit up to ponder. He takes this as a bad sign and raises himself on one elbow, gauging for a negative reaction.

“Am I still invited to stay?” Your eyes find his and you wait.

Junmyeon releases a breath, “I would like you to. I don’t get to do this much, and it’s only the late afternoon.”

Your soft expression sets him smiling at you, the same dazzling one he gave you when you said he was the coolest earlier this afternoon.

“I’ll stay.” you confirm, stretching your arms above your head, trying your best to be nonchalant. You yelp again as he laughs, pulling you back down to the bed with him.

You sit up once more when his stomach growls for the fifth time and he flings himself from the bed to grab at the menu directory on the night stand between the beds.

He holds it open to you as he swipes the phone from the night stand as well, his brow furrowing in concentration as he punches the room service number into it.

Silently, you look at him, pressing the tip of your index finger to the words 'tuna melt’ listed on the menu. Junmyeon nods, mimicking a drinking motion with his free hand at you with raised brows.

“Water is fine.” you mouth at him, pointing now to the liter of water on top of the mini fridge.

“Ah, yes, may I please order for room one one one five?” he says suddenly, eyes focused on your nakedness. His gaze ravishes you, “Yes, may I have two tuna melts…chips are fine…yes…thank you.”

He promptly hangs up, removing the phone from his ear and replacing it on the dock.

He sighs, reclining against the pillows once more, “Twenty minutes.”

“All good. Um…” you begin, your eyes loitering around the open door of the bathroom, “…my clothes…”

He smiles with a cocked brow and lopsided grin, “I mean, I’m not complaining.” He makes sure to catch your eyes before he bites his lip and lets his gaze lower appreciatively down your body once more.

You swat at his chest playfully, “I’ll need to wear them when I go home, though.”

Pausing, he considers, “Hm… I’ll have them laundered for you tonight? For now, if you really insist on wearing clothes, you’re more than welcome to wear something of mine.”

The idea has you blushing, and your heart clenching at nothing. It seems so domestic, too intimate to be wearing his clothes, but you suppose in the event of an emergency, until your own come back, you’ll have to make due.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” he leans forward to kiss the tip of your nose and you relax once more, laying on your back. Junmyeon curls into you on his side, leaning over on one elbow. It feels natural when you pick up his hand, turning over the weight of it in your fingers to trace the lines of his palms.

He watches you quietly, “Do you read?” he questions, gesturing his head to his palm. You tip your head back to look up at him with a smile.

“A little.”

He hums curiously, “What does it say?”

You sigh heavily, “Well…” your fingers trace his line of stability, “You’ve got a long career ahead of you. This line here,” you run your fingers up and down, “They’re all deep, but this one is deepest. You’re relatively happy with the success you’ve found in life.”

He hums again in agreement, nosing your hairline, “Ah, yes, Suho is very happy.”

You ignore his remark, your eyes flicking up to serve him a look. “This is your life line.” your finger tickles his palm as you run it along the arch toward his thumb, “You’re healthy, and you’ll live a long life.”

“And this one,” you point to the line horizontally across his palm, “is your head line. It indicates your mental state, which is pretty nice. You’ve got a good noggin. Maybe that’s why you’re the leader.” you giggle.

He jokes with you, “Oh, yes. Definitely I was chosen as Exo’s leader because I have the best head lines in my palms.”

You scoff, “I was just saying. Anyway,” you chastise with a good-natured finality, “this one is your love line.” you comment, rubbing the pad of your thumb along the line, ending between his index and middle fingers. “They say the degree of the curve speaks how open you are.”

You make a point not to look at him, your brow knitting as you read it, “Yours is deep, which means you love deeply, but the line itself is not curved dramatically, which means you don’t open up easily, or you don’t explore and express that side of yourself very often or very well.”

He kisses your forehead, “I see.” adding, “I think that’s pretty accurate.” after a moment. His tone is sincere and simple, acknowledging the truth in what you’ve said, nothing more and nothing less. It simply is what it is.

You smile at him, pleased with his reaction. You always thought it was kind of cheesy and weird to read palms, but you enjoyed the knowledge nonetheless.

While reading and tracing your fingers along his palms, you couldn’t help but notice the pock marks, some scarred over and others half healed.

Junmyeon does his best to be nonchalant about your prodding fingers, tracing over the slight dips and splits. His breath catches when you pull the hand to your lips, kissing a few of the marks and rubbing over the entirety of his palm with your fingers. He doesn’t shy away from your questioning fingers and eyes. He just exists in this moment as himself and you find yourself touched by his trust.

“Sorry.” he mumbles.

Your eyes look to his face, “For what?”

He scoffs quietly, looking toward the door, “I don’t even know.”

Gently, he pulls his hand from yours, squinting at it with disdain and clenching a fist before releasing it, repeating the motion several times while he turns the hand over and back, spreading his fingers.

“It’s a nervous thing.” he says calmly, and you don’t need to ask to know what he means.

He lays his head down beside yours, “I don’t even realize I’m doing it. We’ll be sitting there in interviews or wherever and I’ve got my hands folded in front of me beneath the table and then we go back stage and I realize I’ve pulled the skin just enough to make a hole and I think…” his brows furrow slightly, deep brown eyes glancing to yours before he continues, “It’s an unconscious thing. Like playing with the hole in your jeans sort of, when you’re idle and you’re fidgety.”

You smile at him, drawing the hand back down to your chest, “It’s okay. Everyone has something like that.”

His answering soft smile is interrupted by a knocking on the door.

Junmyeon heaves himself from the bed, tossing you a look to cover up as he stuffs his legs into a pair of discarded track pants to answer the door.

You hear more than see him open it. There’s a whispered conversation you can’t see around the wall, until he rounds the corner to balance the tray of food on the corner of the bed. He leaves immediately and the bathroom light turns on.

Ah, the laundry.

You can hear the door close and the light from the bathroom clicks off just before he is back, rubbing his hands together with a grin. It pulls a laugh from your chest at his antics, over enthusiastically wriggling his fingers until they’re grabbing a foil-wrapped sandwich and handing it to you across the bed.

You eat in relative silence, only happy noises of your mutually delicious dinner permeating the air of the room. It doesn’t take long for either of you to polish off the meal, agreeing to give it a thumbs up, four out of five stars, considering it is hotel room service.

It is your turn to leave the bed this time, throwing balls of tinfoil into the waste basket and washing your hands. Upon your return, Junmyeon grabs your waist, dragging you back to the bed with claims of wanting dessert.

Just like that, wrapped up in one another, uncaring about your tuna flavored kisses, he has you again. Softly beneath him as he pushes into you slowly, intimately, savoring the feel of your heat. With his arm curled around the top of your head you feel safe and desired, chasing a high together for the third time before collapsing into a pile of warm laughter and falling asleep.

You roll over in your sleep, body dragging you from unconsciousness with a discomfort in your shoulders. You jolt awake to the sound of a pounding on the door, the sound of someone’s voice on the other side of it.

Delirious with sleep, Junmyeon stirs behind you, lifting his head from the pillow to look at the door with one eye barely squinted open.

“Yah, Hyung, I’m coming in!” an irritated voice quips from the door once more. Cold terror washes over you, mind suddenly sharp with clarity as you hear the door lock click and the weight of it opening.

Luckily, somewhere in your post coital bliss, you must have gotten chilly and crawled beneath the sheets although you were still very much naked.

A scowling man walks into the bulk of the room, his strong disapproving eyes landing on you and Junmyeon, “Hyung, it’s nearly eleven. We’ve gotta go, we’re late.”

You want to scream, eleven o'clock? The air in your lungs whooshes from your body momentarily until you realize you don’t have class today. Part of you is just a tiny bit sad you’ve wasted your prime morning study time though.

The man standing in front of the bed tosses a bag into the white linens, “I think these are yours.” he comments dryly. His expression is judgemental.

“Thanks.” is all you can think of to say.

“Alright, alright.” Junmyeon interjects, “We’re good, Sehun. Give me ten minutes.”

Sehun makes a sound of disagreement, voice laced with commanding authority in his irritation, “You’ve got five.”

Junmyeon removes his arms from you as he rises, uncaring if Sehun sees him in all of his glory. He still ensures the blankets are wrapped around your body before he gets out of bed.

The maknae turns away after collecting his own luggage from the other bed. He very pointedly looks you over before he looks at Junmyeon with nothing more than an annoyed sigh as he leaves.

Fully alert, you jump from the bed. You feel awful that he is late, more or less because of you. What if this fucks everything up and he is upset with you? What if their manager calls you out on it and tells you off?

You’re throwing your clothes on haphazardly, stuffing your arms into your denim jacket and throwing your bag over your shoulder, hissing as it thumps heavily against your back.

“I’m sorry I’ve made you late.” you chime in, watching Junmyeon struggle to school his hair into a decent shape before he gives up altogether, pushing it under a baseball cap.

“You didn’t.” he smiles, and you find yourself smiling right along with him.

“Besides,” he quips, zipping his luggage shut and stuffing his feet into his untied shoes, “The number of times Chanyeol and Baekhyun have been late for no reason at all is staggering. I’m allowed to be late for once.”

He holds the door open for you, stealing your lips in a chaste kiss just as you pass him at the threshold. Standing just outside the room are a handful of his members, waiting with various expressions. Minseok wears a mask of surprise, his eyes widening and looking between you and Junmyeon as if disbelieving everything you’re certain Sehun told him. Chanyeol and Baekhyun look delighted, and Jongdae’s face is painted with jealousy once he realizes who you are. The rest are missing.

Sehun’s expression alone makes you turn to Junmyeon awkwardly, waving goodbye too quickly to try and loiter. You know you can’t leave with him.

“I can take the stairs.” you say with a sheepish grin, your hand absently smoothing your hair from its mussed state at the crown of your head.

Junmyeon cuts in, “No, that’s a lot. Just come down after us.”

Nobody says anything and you don’t fight him on it, “Okay.”

Sehun presses the 'down’ button on the elevator, giving you a serious side eye. You step away from them, clearing your throat and looking out the window on the opposite wall. The specific shade of blue in the sky today is fascinating, you think.

Your eyes creep back to them as the door chimes and opens, the herd of them shuffling into the cramped elevator. Junmyeon is watching you in return, his smile a little wistful. He puts on a brace face, winking at you just before the doors slide shut and your own metallic reflection stares back at you.

You didn’t realize you were holding a breath until you are alone in the quiet elevator lobby on the eleventh floor. You feel as though your heart walked on that elevator with him, sinking to the ground and down, down, down with each floor they pass.

You’re in trouble.

[bitterlikesweets]

Love Bites Ch 3

This is the third chapter of a modern/vampire AU ereri fanfic. You can also read it on Ao3.

Prev | Next

Cool fingers curl into Eren’s hair, and they tug gently, causing Eren to pull his mouth away from Levi’s wrist with a gasp. Warm heat blooms in Eren's stomach and swiftly spreads outwards, until he can feel the tingle of warmth in his fingertips. He feels like he’s just had a warm mug of cocoa, and he’s also a bit disoriented and groggy. That grogginess is why Eren is a second too late to stop himself from swiping a lick across Levi’s pale skin, sweeping up the little red droplets forming where his fangs pierced the skin.

Eren's appalled at himself, and the feeling only intensifies when his cheeks grow hot. He finally has enough blood in his body to blush, but he almost wishes that he doesn’t. His body is warm and content, but his mind is a frenzy. Eren opens his mouth to apologize, but the words clog in his throat when he hears Levi hum appreciatively.

“Seems like your instincts are good for something,” Levi says, swiping his thumb over the bite mark as he takes his arm back.

Eren stares at Levi’s wrist, at the small wounds that are already closing.

“I—how is that—”

“Vampire saliva has a bit of healing power,” Levi says, reaching into the front pocket of his pants and pulling out a small travel pack of tissues. “It’s nasty as shit, but at least it has a purpose.”

Eren watches as Levi carefully wipes his wrist off with a tissue.

“So I was supposed to do that?” Eren asks.

Levi looks up at him but doesn’t speak, a silent request for him to clarify.

“I, uh—” Eren clears his throat and hopes his face isn’t as red as it feels—and oh God, that’s Levi’s blood that he’s blushing with —before he continues. “Licking you.”

Levi nods.

“Unless you’d prefer that I bleed all over the table,” the man says.

“No,” Eren says, still staring at Levi’s wrist. “Definitely not.”

Levi tucks his tissues back into his pocket and then rotates his wrist, testing the movement. After a few rolls, he seems satisfied, and he clasps his hands together on the table before directing his attention back to Eren.

“Alright, kid—”

“Eren.”

“...What?”

“Eren. My name.”

Levi stares at him for a moment, but Eren just holds his gaze until the man huffs a little sigh and begins again.

“Eren, I’m going to make a deal with you. I’ll teach you what you need to know, and you can drink from me until we figure something else out. Sound good?”

Eren frowns.

“What do you get out of it?”

“I get to know that there’s not some uneducated vampire running around killing humans because he never properly learned the rules,” Levi says.

Eren winces, thinking briefly of his mother before he nods.

“I agree then,” Eren says, but he frowns again. “Levi, you’re human, right?”

“You wouldn’t be drinking from me if I wasn’t,” Levi said, leaning back in his chair.

“How do you know so much about vampires? I mean, I didn’t know they were real until… You know...”

“Ah, good question,” Levi says, and he gets up.

Eren watches curiously as Levi walks to a filing cabinet in the corner of the room by the window. Levi pulls open one of the drawers and plucks something out of it, though Eren can’t see what it is from his spot at the table.

“Catch,” Levi says, and he turns around and throws something without any other warnings. Eren scrambles to grab it out of the air, but his stomach drops once he sees what it is.

The warmth from Levi's blood seems to flood out of him, and Eren sits, frozen, as he stares at the small wooden stake in his hand. It’s no wider than a ruler, barely longer than a pencil, but it’s sharpened to a point that Eren is sure would have no issue piercing his flesh.

“I’m a hunter,” Levi says. “Or I was, anyway.”

“A hunter,” Eren echoes, his gaze still locked onto the stake in his hands.

“A vampire hunter,” Levi says as if Eren needed clarification.

“Oh,” Eren says.

“Don’t worry,” Levi said, “I’m not in the business anymore. Even if I was, I know which vampires need to die and which don’t.”

Isabel’s words echo in Eren’s head. ‘Levi’s never wrong.’

“And I’m not one that needs to die?”

“No,” Levi says, and he walks over to Eren and takes the stake back, though Eren doesn’t feel any better with the weapon in Levi’s hands. “You’re one that needs to be taught. As long as you learn, I won’t have to do anything drastic.”

Anything drastic. Like stabbing Eren in the chest.

“Right,” Eren says, but his voice is wavering.

Levi sets the stake on the table between them before going back to his seat, and Eren hunches in his chair from the weight of the silent threat.

“Hey,” Levi says, and Eren reluctantly drags his gaze up to meet Levi’s. “Relax. The only reason I’d ever have to hurt you is if you ended up like those freaks who crashed your birthday party.”

Levi raises his arm to show Eren, wrist up.

“We’ve already stopped that from happening,” Levi says. “I only showed you the stake because you asked.”

“I just asked how you knew about vampires, not for you to show me your weapons,” Eren grumbles.

“My bad,” Levi replies, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “I didn’t know you would feel better not knowing. Better keep all the other weapons concealed so that I can use them on you without you expecting it.”

Eren sits up straighter, his eyes darting around the room.

“Other weapons? What other weapons?”

“Oh?” Levi raises his eyebrows at Eren. “Here I thought you didn’t want to be shown.”

“Well, if they might be used against me, then I’d rather know!”

“That’s why I showed you the fucking stake, you dumb brat. You shouldn’t have complained.”

“Okay, I’m sorry!” Eren exclaims, throwing his hands in the air. “Will you show me where the other weapons are now?”

“Fuck no.”

“Wha—”

“How about this: I’ll show you one concealed weapon after every lesson. Gain trust on both sides.”

“I thought you did trust me!”

“I said I didn’t think you had to die, not that I trusted you.”

Eren groans in frustration, dropping his head onto the table.

“Okay,” Eren mumbles, his cheek pressed against the wooden surface. “Whatever. I agree.”

He turns his head to look up at Levi, who is already staring down at him.

“Can you at least tell me how many there are?”

“Hmm…” Levi begins, and for a moment Eren is hopeful. “No.”

Eren sighs and presses his forehead against the table, resigned to the situation. It will be fine, right? As long as he doesn't go “feral,” as Levi put it, the weapons won't matter.

...He just has to make sure to never tell Mikasa.

“You’re looking a lot more lively now,” Levi says, and Eren raises his head.

“What do you mean?”

“The other night, when you came here for the first time,” Levi explains, “I could tell you were starving yourself.”

Eren blinks.

“Is that why you…?”

“I gave you the blood as an apology for the garlic, but that was part of it, yes.”

Levi reaches out, and Eren tenses as the man’s hand comes up to his face. Levi’s hand falls on his cheek, and Eren freezes, holding his breath. The man’s eyes betray nothing as he tugs the corner of Eren’s mouth with his thumb.

“You could pass as one of living like this,” Levi says, pulling his hand away.

Eren blinks up at Levi, his cheeks burning up again, and the imprint of Levi’s cold hand on his face still lingers on Eren’s skin. He barely resists the urge to cover up the spot where Levi touched him with his own hand.

“I-I’m assuming that’s good,” Eren says once he’s a bit calmer.

“That’s the ideal,” Levi says, pointing at his own lips with his finger. “Your fangs were so big last week, I could see their shape even with your mouth closed.”

Eren instinctively covers his mouth with his hands.

“It was that obvious?”

“Anyone familiar with vampires would notice.”

Levi frowns for a moment, shifting his gaze away from Eren.

“You… Before me, when was the last time you drank?”

“I think when I turned,” Eren replies. “I don’t remember much. I just… I woke up on the floor of my house with blood on my mouth. I called the police right after.”

“...I see.”

“Why?”

“We don’t need to talk about it right now,” Levi says quickly.

Now it’s Eren’s turn to frown.

“You brought it up. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

Levi closes his eyes, massaging the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger.

“You’re not going to like what I have to say.”

“Just tell me,” Eren says firmly.

“Well… Under normal circumstances, it should always be like it was for you this week. After getting blood, you’ll get thirsty again within a week, give or take, if you’ve had a healthy amount.”

“What’s considered a healthy amount?”

“Depends on the human you’re drinking from and how fast you’re swallowing the shit up,” Levi says, “but usually you shouldn’t drink any longer than five minutes. That’s why I stopped you, so you learn my limits.”

Eren nods, starting to get a vague idea of what Levi was trying to say. He remembers Levi’s fingers in his hair, gently urging him to stop.

“So the fact that I went without for months…”

“It’s an anomaly,” Levi says. “Either you’ve got a stomach of steel or you drank too much the first time.”

Eren’s stomach twists. He doesn’t like where this conversation is going.

“What are you saying?”

“You said you drank the night you turned. Do you remember who you drank from?”

Eren wants to vomit.

“Stop.”

“It’s just an idea. I wasn’t there; I’m not going to pretend like I knew what happened.”

“But you’re saying that I fucking drank from my mom. Drank too much .”

“Like I said, it’s just an idea—”

“Are you trying to say I killed my mom?” Eren snaps, pushing himself to his feet.

“No,” Levi says quickly, his gaze dropping to Eren’s tight grip on the table and then back up to his eyes. “Of course not. If you were attacked, then she would’ve been dead before you got to her—”

“So I did exactly what those fucking monsters did to her!” Eren exclaimed. “Is that what you’re trying to say to me?”

“I’m not trying to say anything like that—”

“Then, what the fuck are you trying to say? ” Eren snaps, clutching the table in an attempt to keep himself calm, but he can’t help it. The warmth in his stomach has risen to his chest and now it’s boiling and he thinks of his mother, of what she looked like, and he thinks of her throat.

Eren is so fucking stupid. Of course, he drank from her. How had he not seen that before? He had repeated the fact so easily before. The day I turned was the first time. Why had he not thought about it for even a second? He was so focused on not having any more blood, focused on clinging to his humanity. In reality, the only reason he was able to cling to that false dream for so long was because he was a monster—because even among monsters, he had done something that he shouldn’t have done.

“Eren,” he hears, and then there’s a hand on his arm, and Eren recoils, instinctively yanking his arms away.

It’s only when he hears the crash that he realizes he was still clutching the table.

He stares at the table in shock. It’s across the room now, flung onto its side. Its legs knocked over a potted plant by the door, and the base of it slammed into the wall and knocked down a painting.

Eren is shocked into silence, and he steps away from the table until his back is against the wall. When he looks down at his hands, they’re shaking. His whole body is shaking. There’s violent knocking on the door, and Eren hears Isabel and a voice he doesn’t recognize desperately asking if everything’s alright.

“We’re fine,” Levi shouts, and the banging stops.

Eren raises his head, eyes wide with shock and fear, fear of himself.

“I-I don’t—I don’t know how—I’ve never—I didn’t know —”

“It’s alright,” Levi says, and his voice is soft, as if he’s talking to a child and not a monster that launched a wooden table across the room.

Levi approaches him slowly, but those hesitant steps make Eren flinch, wishing his back wasn’t against the wall, and Levi stops.

“Levi—”

“Sorry,” the man says, cutting Eren off. “I shouldn’t have—It wasn’t my place to ask or imply something like that.”

“I… No… That’s not…” Eren swallows, dropping his gaze back down to his shaking hands. “You don’t need to apologize. I shouldn't have—I could’ve hurt you. I didn’t know… This hasn’t happened before.”

Eren slowly closes his open palms into fists, hoping to still his shaking a bit, and he looks at Levi again, who is still standing in the center of the room.

“You’re not upset?” Eren asks quietly, and Levi shakes his head.

“It was my fault.”

“It is not your fault that I fucking threw a table.”

“It’s my fault that you got worked up like that,” Levi says, and he takes a slow step forward, his eyes pinned on Eren, watching for a reaction. “My curiosity got the better of me.”

“It’s—” Eren swallows, “it’s okay.”

Levi reaches out once he’s close enough and takes hold of Eren’s fist.

“Consider this lesson two,” Levi says. “When you have enough blood, all of your abilities are amplified. That’s shit like healing, better senses.”

Levi carefully opens Eren’s hand back up. Eren’s nails have left little indents in his palms. Eren didn’t even notice. He didn’t think he’d put that much force into it.

“And strength,” Levi says. “It should get easier to manage with experience.”

“So I won’t be throwing tables all the time?” Eren asks, desperate to lighten the mood, to distract his mind before he loses his cool again.

Levi looks up at him curiously, but he nods.

“I’m going to need you to put that back, by the way,” Levi says, releasing Eren’s hand.

Eren looks over Levi’s head at the table still across the room and approaches it cautiously, as if it’ll retaliate against him, as if it could seek revenge. When he tips it back onto its legs, the table is much lighter than he imagined, much lighter than it should be. He’s slow as he pulls it back to the center of the room, not wanting to do anymore damage.

When the table is back in place, he looks around the room and sees that Levi has moved. He’s kicking the dirt from the fallen plant into the corner—a temporary solution. Eren hurries to help clean up, picking up the picture that had fallen off the wall.

Eren pauses as he looks carefully at it. It’s a picture of Levi, but he’s far younger, a child. He’s sitting at a kitchen counter in what Eren assumes is Levi’s childhood home. There’s a woman leaning across the counter, handing him a plate of pasta. There’s a cardboard sign taped to the counter, written in messy crayon. “Kuchel’s Kitchen.”

“Less snooping, more cleaning,” Levi says, smacking Eren in the back with something large and heavy.

“Okay, sorry...” Eren mumbles, hanging the picture back up before turning to see what Levi hit him with.

The man is leaning against the table, a stake the size of a small baseball bat in his hands.

“What the—Why the fuck would you need one that big?! How would you even use—No, how the fuck did you hide that in here?”

Levi just shrugs, but he also hoists the stake over his shoulder and points it at Eren. For a moment, Eren is confused, but then he sees Levi’s hand jerk forward, and Eren immediately dives to the ground before the man can chuck the thing at him like it’s a wooden spear.

Eren hears a brief chuckle, and Eren looks up to see Levi with the stake in his hands again, though with it lowered to the floor like a cane instead of pointed in the air like it was a moment ago. Levi’s not smiling, but there’s something brewing in those sharp eyes that looks like mischief, and Eren scowls.

“You’re an asshole.”

“I won’t disagree.”

Eren huffs at Levi’s response, pushing himself back to his feet. Levi moves the stake so that it’s leaning against the table, and what little shift there was in his expression flattens out into something more serious.

“I could instruct you more today, but you’re going to need to come back to drink again anyway, so I might as well spread the lessons out.”

Eren nods, and Levi rubs his eyes.

“Besides, I’m fucking tired. Not all of us are nocturnal.”

Eren rubs the back of his head sheepishly and nods.

“Yeah, sorry for coming so late.”

Levi just waves his hand dismissively at Eren's concerns.

“Just come whenever you start to feel thirsty. The sooner we can figure out how your body handles blood, the sooner I can get you set up with a more permanent partner.”

“Partner?”

“Someone you drink from on a regular basis. Someone you trust. Could be a lover or a friend… Some vampires who don’t have anyone pay for partners.”

Eren nods, but he can’t imagine choosing a partner to drink from, mostly because he’s still reeling from the fact that he has to consistently drink blood at all.

“Bring it up with your friends,” Levi says. “Those two you came with the other day. They already know, don’t they?”

Eren nods again, and Levi, seemingly satisfied, leads Eren out of the break room and through the kitchen. When they enter the main dining room, Eren sees Isabel and Furlan sitting at the only table not cleaned and set up for the night. Isabel has her mouth open, prepped to ask questions, but a look from Levi seems to have her holding her tongue for now.

“Uh,” Eren begins as Levi walks him to the door, “thank you. For the lessons and for…”

He gestures at Levi’s wrist.

“And sorry for lashing out at you,” Eren finishes, dropping his gaze to the floor.

Levi just waves his hand dismissively.

“Don’t worry about it. I get it. Now get going, brat. I want to get some fucking sleep.”

“Yeah, okay,” Eren says, turning to push open the door, but before he steps out, he looks over his shoulder at the man. “See you later, Levi.”

“Mhmm.”

Eren manages a smile before he slips out the door, walking out into the night.

[nyisles]

Magic In The Hamptons

Part FOUR

part one | part two | part three 

Player: Mathew Barzal 

Words: 3.2K 

Warnings: language, questionable steam? - tryna keep this pg 13 because i’m not a smut writer. 

Notes: thank the LORD the writers block has passed. Lmk what you peeps think (i crave validation), of course she isn’t edited so yeah just uhh enjoy. 

         Deep breath, you reminded yourself. It was hard though as you looked around the room you were in realizing this definitely was Mat’s place. The pictures of him and his family on a bedside table, and a hockey bag in the corner of the room. What did you do last night, (Y/N), you thought to yourself. You laid in bed for another two minutes before realizing you couldn’t just hide here, as comfortable as it was. This wasn’t even your apartment. Sliding your legs over to the side of the bed, slowly bringing yourself up, a pounding headache came on like you knew it would. You cursed yourself to never drink again, especially never a drink that Mat Barzal makes. Padding down the hall, you found yourself in the living room, the only place in Mat’s apartment you’d ever seen before. It was all nicely decorated, barely looking like a bachelor pad and something a bit homey-er. Much to your surprise Mat was curled up in a few blankets, sleeping quite peacefully on the couch. Had you kicked him out of his own bed after… well… after maybe what you think might have happened. “Mat.” you whispered. No response. “Mat.” you whispered a little louder. No response. Suddenly you found yourself going over and poking him square in the chest. “Mat.” 

         His eyes fluttered open, and a sly little smile came across his face. It disgusted you, well not really, it disgusted you how much you loved it. “Ah, glad to see you’re alive this morning. I was a little worried.” He said in the raspiest morning voice you’d ever heard in your life. It felt like your knees might give in, his morning voice was just that attractive. Do something gross, you said internally trying to challenge him. You just sighed, throwing your head down doing a little bit of your best mopey charlie brown impression. “I literally had to throw you over my shoulder after the uber, force you into the bathroom to change and then you had the audacity of saying the sweatpants i gave you were scratchy so you made us swap right then and there.” Sliding his legs over so you could sit down on the couch, you let out a sigh. “I am...so sorry.” was all you could muster up not even looking at his face. The embarrassment was far too strong. “(Y/N), you have a killer ass, I am not sorry.” 

         Your face turned the brightest shade of red in the whole human existence, you were truly a tomato, not even... You were a fire hydrant. “Jesus, Mat.” was all you could mutter before giving his legs a little push as he tried to stretch them out across your lap. In all honesty you couldn’t even make eye contact with him, so you just had to watch him from the corner of your eyes. “Honesty is the best policy, and to be fair that is all I saw.” He said throwing his hands up in the air to prove his innocence, hard to believe he was all that innocent. Deep down you were slightly pleased, and completely relieved that’s where it ended. A subtle showing of the ass was something you could live with, or at least learn to get over in a few months, maybe days. “And maybe next time you can let me at least have half of my bed instead of telling me I had to stay on the couch. This shit is going to mess with my back, have fun telling all of Long Island you’re the reason I’m out due to undisclosed back issues.”  Rolling your eyes you, picked the pillow off the back of the couch behind you whacking his body with it. He let out a little groan as he decided to sit up, as he glanced over at the clock on the wall. “You’re joking, (Y/N). It’s only 6:30.”

         “Then go to your real bed, I should probably go home, pop an advil, and try to sleep this off.” Mat rolled his eyes, standing up then taking your hands and standing you up off his couch. “Advil is in the bathroom cabinet, I’ll see you in my room.” He said walking off down the hall from where you’d come from, not giving you a moment to even think or respond. To be fair, you felt obligated to stay, you didn’t even know where your clothes were from last night, how could you leave? It was only 6:30 anyways, you doubted that there would be any real ubers driving around and it was way too early for Reese or any of your other friends to pick you up. So you walked yourself to his bathroom, popped an advil and almost immediately found yourself back in Mat’s room. He was already laying in bed, scrolling through his phone. 

         Pulling the sheets over, you snuck yourself into bed trying to give Mat some personal space. You had no idea if he was a cuddly guy, or just thought you both deserved a little bit more rest. Glancing over you saw him now shirtless, you were too nervous to move any of the blankets further seeing what else he had on. You were aware it wasn’t that weird, most boys liked to sleep shirtless and in boxers. Hell, if you were home alone you’d rip off these sweatpants and sleep without pants. Mat glanced up from his phone looking at you practically hanging off of the edge of the bed. Instead of making some sort of comment, he tossed his phone on the side table next to him and grabbed the waistband of your sweatpants gently tugging you over to him. “You were so into me last night, and now I have to drag you over here to cuddle. I thought you were an affectionate kind of girl.” He said softly as he closed his eyes, “It’s not fair.”  

         “So needy. I thought you wanted to sleep.” you said now cuddling into Mat, trying not to overthink this. “Originally sure, but there’s a ton of things we could do here.” Mat wiggling his eyebrows as you, as you gave him a small smack on the chest. Wincing, Mat get out a laugh, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. You weren’t going to lie to yourself, in this moment, life was pretty good. It’s almost like your hangover had disappeared. You were perfectly content laying next to this seemingly perfect guy, but at the same time Mat did have a point. Your feelings of wanting to go home with him last night hadn’t changed, now you were just sober with a less forward attitude. Tilting your head up planting a kiss on Mat you figured there was no better time to go for it than right now. Sliding your leg over his body, you found yourself in his lap, slowly grinding yourself down on the boy continuing the makeout, pulling away briefly. “Alright Barzal, whatcha got?” You said with a cheeky smirk. He didn’t dare speak. It’s like the green in his eyes turned dark, and his hands found your waist flipping the two of you over so he was on top. And the good news was, you would definitely remember this.

- - - 

         You spent the next weeks floating around on a cloud. Mat’s training had picked up since the season was soon to start, and work was a bit more demanding, but the two of you had managed to keep up, sometimes he’d even call you when he was ‘bored’ before some preseason game and couldn’t nap, and he’d slept over your apartment twice claiming your apartment was ‘closer’ to the rink when in reality it was just about the same distance thanks to Long Island traffic. It felt like any fears or doubts about Mat disappeared. He’d thrown you into a group chat with Tito, Emma, and Derick and made an effort to get to know your friends. Your girlfriends were constantly hounding you when you two would define whatever it was that the two of you were doing, though you ignored it knowing you couldn’t push it with him. Every conversation about that made you think back to when you’d originally met some of the wives at Sydney’s wedding, who made it seem like you couldn’t force a hockey player into anything, they’d just spite you with way girls who were way prettier. The last thing you wanted to do was push Mat to Whitney. It was funny because she’d even requested to follow you on instagram, though you left her request pending. You never brought it up to anyone besides Tito who just laughed it off and told you not to accept it. 

         It was hard not to find yourself daydreaming at work as you typed away on your computer, but the buzz from your phone brought you out of your thoughts. Looking down you saw Mat’s name across the screen. It was hard not to smile a little bit, you glanced around the workplace making sure no one would be pissy you answered a personal call. “MB” you said softly into the phone, “you trying to get me fired?” 

         “Would that mean you’d be free this Friday night?” 

         “I can be available even with a job this Friday night, why what’s up? Big plans to fall asleep on my couch five minutes into a movie?” you joked trying to poke fun. It was far too easy, and you both had a solid flirty banter to keep up with. “Actually no, it’s opening night. I wanted to know if you would support your favorite hockey player. Derick Brassard.” You couldn’t hold back the laugh, as you took another glance around your office noticing that no one really cared who you were on the phone with. “(Y/N), this is where you say, of course. I’d love to watch my favorite hockey player and Mat on the ice at the same time.” 

         “I hope Emma doesn’t get too jealous, but I’d love to go.” With that you got little butterflies in your stomach. This felt like a pretty big deal, being invited to the opening game of the season as Mat’s plus one? Or person? Or female friend? That was all very much up in the air, but it felt as if things were headed in a good direction. “Cool, cool.” Mat said so casually, but what you didn’t know was how excited he was and how ‘cool’ he was trying to play it on the other end of the line. “Listen, I’m gonna go run some errands, but I’ll talk to you later.” Within five minutes you had been added by Emma to another group chat, this time assuming it was the other girls since you were welcomed with a warm text from Grace. 

         Grace Lee: Isles bitches, pregame in the coli parking lot on Friday. I expect everyone to be in their best orange and blue. Chipolini sangria will be flowing, so drink up for me, #preggers. 

         A small squeal escaped your lips, your dumb ass was too drunk the last time you saw her to even realize she probably wasn’t drinking. You sent back your best ‘congrats and can’t wait to see you all’ like all of the previous texts were starting to read. All of the ‘who is the xxx number’ texts came pouring in and before you could type back. 

         Grace Lee: (Y/N) scored the elusive MB13 tix and that’s the number. Our baby has arrived. We have been waiting for you in the gc.

         You could only love her message trying not to draw too much attention to yourself, but it was like Grace was the big sister you needed to show you into this world. Emma did a pretty good job at helping you out, but she was still new to the isles wags and basically the same age as yourself. She, maybe, had known these women for as long as you had. Derick was still new to the team. 

- - -

         The next thing you knew it was 2:30 on Friday, skipping out of work as early as you possibly could to get ready to be in a parking lot with girls who were practically models at 5pm for a 7pm game to which you were still incredibly nervous for. Your nerves might’ve matched Mat’s. He had sent you at least three different pictures of suits lying on his bed asking which he should wear. It felt super domestic, and you loved telling him how you thought the black velvet suit jacket would be cute, especially with the grey tie. He was also kind enough to let you borrow some clothing, he didn’t know it actually, but you’d managed to steal a white islanders t-shirt and one of his plaid jackets, that honestly you looked better in. Paired with a pair of jeans that made your ass look fabulous, how could the day go wrong?

         It didn’t for a while. Grace had gifted you with a pom beanie that had the number 13 blinged out on the front in orange sparkles. The rest of the girls and you were laughing, having fun and genuinely enjoying each others company in your matching beanies. They showed you all the cool places they’d watch the games. Sometimes in a box, sometimes down low if they were actually wanting to watch the game. For tonight they settled on sitting in one of the boxes, wanting to celebrate the start to a hopeful new season. This time you had learned your lesson and made all of your own drinks. Your buzz was only light, and you were able to enjoy the game. 

         The first period was fun, the game was tied 1-1. It was in between periods as you and all the girls just sat around chatting about what it’d be like this season. They filled you in on how fun a win was, and how miserable a loss could be. Hockey talk didn’t last long as you quickly moved onto Grace’s baby, to what other events you all could do together since it was a ‘fun group of girls.’ The group almost didn’t notice the door to the box open and slam shut, but it was like the girls had seen a ghost. A different kind of silence came across the room. With your back being towards the door you turned around, and immediately your heart had dropped. Your hand immediately ripping the stupid sparkly 13 beanie off your head, not caring if it left your hair looking a total mess. “Ladies!” a girls voice exclaimed. You’d studied her enough to know it was Whitney. Fucking Whitney. “I’m so glad Mat left my ticket at will call. My flight got delayed and you know how much traffic was on the expressway.” 

         You couldn’t even speak, you just felt your throat close up, as Grace who was sitting next to you on the couch gave your arm a gentle ‘i’m here for you’ squeeze as she was the only one brave enough to open her mouth. “Whitney… I didn’t know that Mat invited you. We haven’t seen you in a while.” She said trying not to be too direct. “Matty always leaves me a ticket.” She quickly came across the room finding an open seat across from you as she grinned. “And we have a fresh face, and who are you?” she said playing dumb as if she hadn’t requested to follow you on instagram, or as if she didn’t see the stupid hat laying in your lap. 

         “(Y/N) is a good friend of ours, Whitney.” Megan Bailey came to your defense. Not wanting anything to get more uncomfortable than it already had been, you noticed the game starting to pick up again. “Oh… guys, game’s starting.” you managed to say in a soft voice trying not to get yourself worked up. Your brain was running a mile a minute. Did Mat bring you here to embarrass you? He invited two girls to the game. Did he really think that both of you would show up, were you just supposed to be the backup? This girl had flown in from Vancouver for him. Surely he had to have some idea that this chick would be here. The next 40 minutes of the game came and went and you were honestly to paralyzed and in your feelings to move yourself off the couch and out of the box. It didn’t help that the boys ended up losing by one goal and honestly having an okay game, at best. 

         “You’re not fucking leaving.” Grace whispered to you, gripping onto your wrist. “You’re going with us to meet the boys downstairs outside of the locker room and you’re getting an explanation.” She didn’t have you in that tight of a hold, but you were still too shocked and in your own head to do anything. Thoughts were running a mile a minute. The girls put distance between you and Whitney as you all made your way down to the spot where you would meet the boys. Originally Sydney had planned a surprise dinner for the whole group, but now you weren’t feeling like you could face the boys. At least you were being brave enough and not crying.. At least not yet. 

         Hearing Anders tell the boys it was only game one, and it was their year was kind of sweet and brought a halfhearted smile to your face as you watched the boys come out of the locker room, freshly showered and honestly not looking as depressed as you might’ve thought. Mat was one of the last boys to walk out of the locker room with Tito and it’s like you didn’t even have a minute to approach him before Whitney was throwing herself in his arms. His face seemed shocked, it disgusted you, he probably didn’t even think he’d get caught in having two girls come as his plus one to this stupid game. “Whitney…” he said awkwardly. “Thanks for leaving the ticket. I missed the first period, but I heard you played great.” She quipped back not letting him even finish speaking to her. His eyes glanced around the group until they found your face. You handed your hat back to Grace. “I don’t want this anymore. I’m sorry, I’m just going to go now.” You said feeling your eyes watering up. 

         “You’re a tough cookie, don’t let him see this shit hurt you.” She said softly as the rest of the group tried to act normal as wives and girlfriends met back up with their significant others. Anders came over giving your back a gentle rub, “If it means anything, we like having you around.” You put an awkward smile on your face giving him a nod, as you found the nearest exit. The cool October air hit you like a ton of bricks as you pulled Mat’s jacket around you trying to find more warmth but it only made you more upset. Luckily there were taxis just waiting to take home fans and you quickly found one not lingering around the coli any longer. 

         (Y/N): don’t contact me anymore. you’ve embarrassed me and you know it… in fact block this number.   

         You sent Mat a text as quick as your fingers could type it out, as you let tears just fall from your eyes in the stupid taxi, looking like some sort of crazy girl. 

         (Mat Barzal):  (●●●)

         You watched the little dots come and go. No text ever came. You were relieved.

[the-fiction-witch]

Anything.

MOVIE MAZE RUNNER

COUPLE NEWT X READER

RATING SMUTT

"newt please" I begged

"I told you already y/n, no" he argued as he took notes in the kitchen cabinets

"Newt please just hear me out" I plead and he sighed

"Fine, what?" He sighed

"Please newt, I hate working there I'm begging you just talk to Alby about it"

"Y/n... I know you hate it in there but starting a whole new job in the glade, Alby is never gonna go for it I'm sorry" he says continuing with his work but I followed him

"But you boys could have clean clothes"

"Y/n, lets me real here sixty boys all of us wear regular wicked issued clothes, you do one load of laundry and your gonna mix everything up knowone will ever find anything" he explained

"Not If I developed a system" I argue

"A system? Okay so me, Minho, Gally and chuck all throw lets say our underwear into your cleaning service, they all look the same how are you gonna tell the difference?" He asks

"Well... For one I highly doubt you, Minho and chuck where the same sized underwear" I laughed "considering, chuck is a child, minho wears running undies and you are probably like a size two"

"Why would me and minhos be different?" He asks as we got to the scilers and he began taking notes of there supplies

"Because he is big and strong and muscular and your ..." I began and he glared at me "and your newt" I smiled

"Umm humm" he muttered as he worked

"I mean let's face it newt your a stick insect," I laughed

"Ohh so I'm not as strong manly and attractive as Minho?" He laughs "I'm the one your trying to convince to talk to Alby remember"

"Newt of course your strong and attractive you know what I meant" I laughed giving him a cuddle

"Alright," he laughs pushing me away "so even if you in your own can handle just the amount of laundry from the glade and don't mix it all up, who's going to do your job?"

"The next greenie" I shrug

"Y/n I'm sorry, it's a good idea but I don't think you can do it"

"Please newt" I begged

"No y/n" he says as we went across to the garden shed looking at all there supplies

"Please newt just talk to Alby about it for me please" I begged hugging him tightly so it was impossible for him to work

"No y/n" he says pushing me off him to continue his work

"Please newt just talk to him, I'll do anything you want please" I begged "I'll do your work for a week, you can have my bacon for two weeks, I'll clean your hoodie as hammock everyday please" I begged hugging his arm

"You really want me to talk to him?" He asks and I nodded "uurrggghhhh!!!" He groans rubbing his face "fine" he sighed "I'll talk to Alby for you" he says

"You will? Oh thank you, thank you, thank you newt!" I giggled hugging him as tight as I could

"Ahh! Y/n please... I can't breathe" he complained so I let go

"Sorry"

"It's okay" he sighed "but look I'm not making any promises, I'll talk to him but I doubt he'll bite"

"Still thank you newt" I smiled giving his cheek a kiss which made him blush a little red I went to leave but he grabbed my arm

"Aren't we forgetting something y/n?" He smirked

"Forgetting what?" I asked

"I do believe somebody said she'd do... anything to get what she wanted" he smirked

"Fine what do I have to do?" I asked he smirked and grabbed my hand tugging me out the shed and Into the woods.

I was confused where he was taking me and why he was till we got to a little secluded section of the woods close by the corner of the maze and he smiled at me leaning against a tree "newt? What did you bring me out here for?" I asked

"You said you'd do anything... And there is something I want you to do for me" he smirked

"What?" I asked a little puzzled but interested he simply smirked move pulling me close wrapping his arms around my waist he gave my lips a quick tiny kiss before he pushed my shoulder down so I had no choice but to move to my knees on the ground I looked up at him innocently as he undid his brown tattered pants

"Ummm don't look at me like that sweetheart" he groans "come on you said anything" he smirked I blushed and moved closer pulling his pants down enough to reveal his tight underwear I pulled those down too watching as his stiff long cock jumped free he sighed in relief biting on his bottom lip clearly very happy already. I giggled and gently ran my fingers up his shaft experimentaly and gently rubbing on the head massaging in the already formed precum "uhh!! Enough touching sweetheart" he groans holding onto my shoulder In a vice like grip I smiled wrapping my hand around his thin base and gently pumping him towards my mouth as I took his head in my mouth and began to lick him like a lollipop "ughh! Shuck! More... More please" he begs so I took as much of him in my mouth as I could sucking and licking all over him, newt often having to put a hand over his mouth in fear he was too noisy "y/n... sweetheart, harder please" he groans "I'm so close..." I giggled a little slipping him out my mouth purely jerking him off and focusing all my sucking on his head

"You promise you'll talk to Alby for me?"

"Uhhh!! Yes! Yes I promise!" He moaned

"Properly newt, do all in your power to try to help me" I asked

"Yes! Sweetheart, y/n I promise!" He screamed "just please please finish me!"

I smirked taking ever inch of him in my mouth and sucking as hard as I could licking across his head and within seconds his hips bucked into my mouth spurts of his salty sweet seed falling onto my tounge I swallowed it all licking him clean rather enjoying the taste as newt got his breath back "your good at that" he blushed

"So you'll talk to Alby for me?" I asked as I stood

"I promise, as soon as I have some energy sweetheart" he says kissing my cheek

"Why no real kissy newt?" I whine

"You just had my dick in your mouth sweetheart I'm not gonna kiss you" he laughs

"You promised you'll try to convince Alby?" I asked rubbing on his already overstimulated cock

"Yes, I promise!" He groans

"Good, because if he says yes, then I'll let you sleep with me" I giggled going to leave but he grabbed my arm pulling me back

"Sleep with you as in share your hammock? Or sleep with you like.... Have sex with you?" He asked

"Both" I smirked nuzzling into his neck he looked shocked but very excited fixing his pants and grabbing my hand pulling me back to the glade

"Zart where's Alby?" Newt asked as we arrived back at the gardens

"Homestead newt" he answered

"Five minutes sweetheart" he smirked kissing my lips and running off to find alby.

[ploppythespaceship]

In Defense of Will Riker

Riker gets such an unfair reputation in the Star Trek fandom. So many people genuinely can’t stand the guy, which is their right. He can be a somewhat boring character with a strange and even nonexistent character arc. But a lot of this dislike stems from the idea that Riker is a sexist, misogynistic creep who is actively trying to get into the pants of every woman he meets. Which is so far from the truth, I don’t understand how it’s still the perception.

First of all, we’ve done this song and dance with Kirk before. Enjoying dating and sex does not make someone a creep. If everyone involved is a consenting adult, it shouldn’t matter who you’re dating and/or sleeping with.

Secondly, TNG goes out of its way to show that Riker is a great guy. If you actually go through his episodes and look at how he treats both the women he works with and the women he’s interested in, you’ll see that he always treats them with respect. And in instances where he has an easy opportunity to take advantage, he never does it. Because Will Riker is a gentleman who drinks his respect women juice.

I’m so sick of this argument that under the cut I’ve compiled all of Riker’s important relationships with women on the show to demonstrate exactly what I mean.

I pulled most of these from the relationships section of Riker’s Memory-Alpha page, which is pretty thorough, and a few just from memory since I rewatched the whole show pretty recently. I don’t think anything relevant has been left out, but feel free to let me know if you think of something else. I’m all for some civil discussion of these things! Emphasis on civil.

Deanna Troi

Starting with the big one! The very first episode establishes that they have a romantic history, and have since split up. The details of their relationship are pretty scarce, but it’s clear that they had an intense, intimate connection. Initially they’re awkward but professional around one another, and this eventually softens into genuine friendship. They are close, possibly closer than anyone else on the ship. But Will never, not once, pressures Deanna into romance with him. He is entirely respectful towards her. In a few episodes they’re possibly shown to be dating again (it’s unclear) but Deanna gives no indication of being uncomfortable with this arrangement. When they officially get back together in the films, their feelings are clearly mutual and neither is being pressured into anything.

Frankly, Will and Deanna are an excellent example of a healthy relationship with one’s ex, respecting boundaries while maintaining closeness. The two of them are always shown supporting each other. It always bugs me that people think there’s something insidious going on here. Will isn’t just trying to get back into her pants. He genuinely loves and respects her.

And it’s worth mentioning that in “Second Chances”, when Deanna is interested in dating the alternate version of him (later known as Thomas), Will clearly isn’t thrilled about it, but also respects her decision and does nothing to intervene. When she talks to him about it, he is very clear that he does not expect her to ask for his opinion or for his approval, and that as long as she’s happy, he supports her.

Tasha Yar

Frankly they don’t have many distinct interactions that I recall, but Riker treats her the same as he treats everyone else on the crew. He is respectful of her, her rank, and her position.

Beverly Crusher

Not a hint of romance in their relationship. They are friends with a healthy connection built on mutual trust. Again, he is respectful of her, her rank, and her position.

Kathryn Pulaski

You can copy paste everything I said about Crusher, tbh. They’re friends and quite respectful of one another. Nothing untoward happening here.

Lwaxana Troi

Lwaxana flirts with Riker sometimes. Cause she flirts with everyone. Though she leaves him alone a bit more since he’s involved with her daughter. And yet again, Riker is entirely respectful of her, though he does gently have to tell her to back off at times. Eventually they settle into the classic son-in-law / mother-in-law relationship.

Beata (“Angel One”)

Does this episode suck? Yep. Is this relationship awkward as hell? God, yes. Is Riker being misogynistic? Nope! He actually goes out of his way to be respectful of this matriarchal society’s customs, even wearing an outfit that many in his culture would consider demeaning. Not to mention, Beata is primarily the one coming onto him, not the other way around. He’s simply reciprocating. It might be poor judgment, but it’s again entirely mutual and consensual.

Minuet (“11001001″)

Riker goes into the holodeck to relax, and then meets a nice holograhic lady to help him do just that... and people get mad that he enjoys that? Minuet is programmed specifically for this. Not to mention the Bynars literally designed her to be irresistible for him. Of course he’s gonna be besotted with her. And, issues of hologram sentience aside (Trek hadn’t delved too deelpy into it by that point), this is once again entirely consensual.

Minuet does pop up again in “Future Imperfect”, sort of, simply because Barash needed to choose a figure to serve as Riker’s late wife. With someone unable to distinguish holodeck memories from real ones, Minuet would seem like a perfectly reasonable choice.

Brenna Odell (“Up the Long Ladder”)

This is an entirely consensual one night stand. The feelings are clearly mutual. Even while they’re bickering, it’s obvious there’s an attraction underneath it, on both sides. Again, their fling might be poor judgment, but absolutely not misogyny.

Yuta (“The Vengeance Factor”)

This is one of the few episodes where I can see why their relationship might make some viewers uncomfortable, but I also think it’s the most telling as to why Riker is not the creep people assume him to be.

The cultural and status differences between them place Riker at a clear power advantage compared to Yuta, which makes for an imbalance. Yuta is a servant, and her entire mindset is that of serving others. Having a relationship on equal footing with someone like Riker is entirely foreign to her, and she struggles against her instincts to follow all of his wishes without question. That being said, Riker does basically everything he possibly can to address and negate that imbalance. He does his utmost to respect her and her position. He doesn’t force her into anything she isn’t ready for. Any time she tries to fill the role of a servant for him, he stops her to explain that he wants her to be his equal. You could argue that this relationship is inappropriate regardless, because the power imbalance still exists whether he wishes it to or not, but I think it’s important to note how dedicated he is to not taking advantage of this girl.

And of course, at the end of the episode he is forced to choose duty over love and must kill her, but it’s hardly his fault that she’s a secret assassin.

Lal (“The Offspring”)

He flirted with her while unaware of who she was, and stopped immediately upon realizing. And she kissed him, not the other way around. Just look at his face! He clearly didn’t expect that. He did absolutely nothing wrong here. Using this brief scene against his character is just absurd.

Commander Shelby (“The Best of Both Worlds”)

For some reason the consensus in this episode is that Riker is rude to Shelby because she doesn’t want to sleep with him. And that’s just a complete and utter misread of the episode.

First, there is absolutely no indication that Riker is romantically interested in her. Nor does she does not reject his advances, because no advances are even made. Second, Riker gets short with Shelby at times because she has been assigned to work under his command, and she’s questioning his decisions and generally being difficult to work with. It’s literally his job to call people on things like that. That being said, he’s never particularly rude to her -- at least, no more rude than she is to him. They also grow into mutual respect by the end of the episodes, to the point where he trusts her to serve as his first officer.

Lanel (“First Contact”)

( TW: rape mention )

Quite frankly the next person to point to this episode as evidence of Riker’s misogyny is getting slapped. She. Raped. Him. Full stop. He needed to escape, she offered to help if he slept with her, and he agreed because at the time it was the only way to save his life. Consent under duress is not consent. He does not appear comfortable with the arrangement, and his joking afterwards is forced. So let’s just stop holding this episode up as proof of Riker’s sexism, mkay? He was undeniably the victim here.

Carmen Davila (“Silicon Avatar”)

There’s not much to glean from their brief interaction where Riker asks her to dinner, but again: feelings are mutual. Everyone’s consenting. Nothing untoward happening here. Besides, she’s killed not five minutes into the episode, so it doesn’t particularly matter.

Etana Jol (“The Game”)

Riker’s having a fling with her on Risa. Because that’s what you do on Risa. You go vacation and have fun, and if you so choose, you can find someone else there wanting to have fun. And you have some sexy fun together. That’s just how it goes on Risa.

Also, she’s revealed to be playing him and literally brainwashes him to access the Enterprise. So the situation is not entirely within his control. Again, let’s not blame the victim here.

Ro Laren

There’s clearly sexual tension between them in some episodes, which mostly comes across as bickering. Riker is sharp with her when he needs to be, as a commander, but also tells her when she’s done a good job. The only time they sleep together is in “Conundrum”, when all their memories are erased. Therefore they’re unaware of the context that a romantic relationship isn’t entirely appropriate. When they remember again, they are awkward but respectful of one another, and now have a stronger friendship for it. And I’ll say it for the umpteenth time: mutual and consensual.

Soren (“The Outcast”)

This episode is controversial as hell, and it’s always a tricky one to dive into. But as far as Riker’s relationship with Soren is concerned: there’s honestly nothing bad happening here. He is respectful of her culture and is impressed by her as a pilot and scientist. Though he clearly has feelings for her, it’s unclear if he would have been the first to pursue them, because she confesses hers for him first. Before then, he was entirely professional with her. Only when their mutual attraction is confirmed does Riker actually pursue a relationship with her.

(Side note, that conversation is also when she comes out to him as female.(Yes, Riker was attracted to her before knowing she was female! At the time he believed her to be androgynous/non-binary. Which makes him canonically not straight.)

Additionally he is 100% respectful of her gender -- one of the only people to do that, in fact -- and does what he can both to respect her culture while also supporting her and her journey. He’s genuinely gutted when she’s forced to conform to the expected gender of her society, and isn’t allowed to be who she truly is.

Don’t get me wrong, this episode is a hot mess in many other aspects, but Riker’s treatment of Soren is one of the few things it got right.

Kamala (“The Perfect Mate”)

Is this episode super uncomfy with an almost laughably sexist plot? Oh yeah. But can we blame Riker for anything? Not really. Kamala can read men to make herself everything they desire -- the perfect mate, as the episode’s title says. Naturally this extends to her scenes with Riker as well. She flirts with him, comes onto him, and he’s clearly very into it. They kiss briefly, he’s tempted -- and then he stops her, because he knows this isn’t appropriate and she’s promised to someone else.

Let me say that again: Riker has a perfectly willing woman in front of him, who is literally doing everything in her power to be as appealing to him as possible. She is right there for him to have if he wants. Which he does. And he still tells her no, to keep a clear professional boundary between them. It would have been so easy to take advantage of that and later say she was too irresistible. Yet he didn’t.

Amanda Rogers (“True Q”)

Amanda is a young girl, 18 at the oldest, when she arrives aboard the Enterprise. She’s pretty enamored with Riker, cause she’s a kid who doesn’t have a great sense of what’s healthy/appropriate and what’s not yet. Riker is very aware of this, and does absolutely nothing to encourage her. He sets boundaries where appropriate and is obviously just waiting for her crush to die down, so he doesn’t have to hurt her feelings. When Amanda really starts to make moves on him, he very clearly tells her no. She actually starts to force him to play out her romantic fantasies using her Q powers, though she stops when she realizes it’s not real and isn’t right. Riker does nothing wrong in this episode.

Rebecca Smith (“Genesis”)

There’s nothing to go on here except that they had a date in the holodeck. Everything seems on the up and up. She’s not even shown onscreen, just mentioned in a couple lines of dialogue. I’m just including her for the sake of being thorough.

tl;dr

All of Riker’s relationships are either entirely consensual, or non-consensual with him as the victim. In several situations he could easily have taken advantage of someone, but never does, instead choosing to set clear boundaries. I have been thinking and scouring through Memory-Alpha and I genuinely cannot find a single instance in which he behaved in a sexist or misogynistic manner. That isn’t to say it never happened, I certainly can’t remember every moment of a seven season show. But it’s hardly a defining character trait for him the way many seem to think.

There are plenty of other reasons to dislike Riker. He can be immature. He rather stupidly stays in the same position for a decade because he can’t be bothered to take his own command the way he should. He can be a bit dull as a main character. The way he gets into chairs looks very stupid. But he is not sexist or a creep. *drops microphone*

[buckybarnesthehotshot]

my escape viii: waging war (a marvel x disney’s descendants crossover)

Series summary: Astrid Lokisdottir (OC) grew up on the Isle of the Lost with her father, Loki Odinson. Plagued by nightmares, she’s presented with an escape plan and memories of a woman, memories which aren’t hers.

series masterlist

Series warnings: spoilers, swearing, mean Loki, kidnapping, I’m not following canon timelines, all characters except for Astrid are not mine, Loki is kind of OOC, the story focuses more on (spoiler alert lmao) Astrid and mother!reader’s relationship

character relationships if that’s a thing: Astrid x Harry Hook, Astrid x dad! Loki, Loki x wife! reader, Astrid x mom! reader, goddess of hysteria! reader

       “Heimdall, my mother! Where is she?” Astrid demanded, running to the Bifrost. Heimdall’s eyes widened; Y/N did seem as though she were in a rush to flee Asgard.

       “Did she harm you in any way?” Heimdall demanded, scanning Astrid’s limbs for ay cuts or bruises.

       “I’m fine, but mother’s planning on waging war on Auradon,” Astrid panted.

       “Would that be such a bad thing, lavs? They’ll get what they deserve,” Harry growled ferociously, his mind focusing on his anger towards the leaders and citizens of Auradon.

       “What if they harm mother? I don’t need any other issues; not when I just got my mother back. I don’t need her imprisoned for any war crimes,” Astrid huffed in frustration. Why did her family have to be so difficult?

       “Your mother can handle herself, trust me. The Goddess of Hysteria knows her abilities. It’s Auradon you should be worried about,” Heimdall shook his head, moving past them and allowing them into the Bifrost.

       Meanwhile, in Auradon, Y/N stormed the doors of the palace of Auradon, unafraid of what she was to face. She was a woman on a mission and that mission was to seek justice for her husband’s wrong imprisonment.

       As if an invisible barricade followed her around, anyone who tried stopping her came crashing into the walls of the hall she walked down. She smirked knowing her abilities held her to an advantage. How dare Auradon strip her of her time with her family?

       With every step, her smirk grew wider and wider. She was getting closer to the King’s office. There, she found the previous Queen, Belle, weeping into her husband’s chest as he held her tightly in his arms. Had they been someone else, Y/N would have smiled at how perfect they looked with each other. She snarled as she remembered the damage they left in her life.

       “Ah, the previous queen and king. You stole something from me; something important. Would you care to tell me what you believe you stole from me?” Y/N raised a brow as she inched closer and closer to the king and the queen.

        “Goddess Y/N, I don’t think you have the right person. If you left something in Auradon since your last visit, we’d be happy to help you find it after we deal with the current issue we’re dealing with in Auradon,” Belle smiled warmly as she saw the goddess enter the room.

        “No, don’t you dare act as though everything’s fine. Not when you have my husband imprisoned on a pathetic piece of rock. He’s a God, darling, get him out or I’ll wage war on Auradon,” Y/N threatened.

       “Y/N, we’re not allowed to go onto the Isle. They’d eat us up alive,” Adam, the previous king, frowned. Y/N’s face contorted into one of disbelief. Would the king risk his people’s lives just to stay off an Island to which they sent her husband?

       “Bullshit. You royals know exactly how horrible the conditions are there. Loki, my husband, was send off to the Isle of the Lost. He’s an heir! It’s a war crime, to keep him there. Now you either get him off the Isle, or I storm Auradon with an Asgardian army. Take your pick,” Y/N snarled.

       “Look! Fairy Godmother cast a spell that won’t allow us to set foot on the Isle of the Lost. We value our connections with Asgard. Y/N, we can get your husband off, but we can’t do it with you,” Belle explained, earning a light chuckle from Y/N.

       “I wasn’t born yesterday! I don’t want to fall for any of your tricks! How do I know I won’t be trapped onto the Isle the moment I set foot there?” Y/N demanded, now gripping a dagger in her arms, pulling a whimper from the previous queen. Adam stepped in front of Belle as though he were shielding her. Y/N chuckled; did he really think she could be stopped by him.

        “We will bring you along with a security detail who will be with you every step of the way. You may question our methods, but you know where our morals are, Y/N. We won’t leave anyone in harm’s way. Now, are you still waging war?” Adam demanded, nearly screaming at the goddess. She chuckled before nodding in respect as she kept her dagger away.

       “Your ride should be ready within twenty minutes. However, I must warn you of the current dilemma. There’s a fairy reigning chaos on Auradon. Do not fall victim for her traps,” Belle sighed, moving away from in front of her husband. She now looked to the h/c girl with pity. Belle couldn’t imagine what it would feel like if she was separated from her husband and son for twenty years.

       “Me? Fall to an evil fairy? Do you know who I am?” Y/N chuckled cockily, a smirk finding its way to her face.

       “You underestimate the power of Auradon. However, you also underestimate our kindness. Let me get you fixed up and ready to meet your husband,” Belle smiled nicely before leading a very confused Y/N out the door.

        “I am your ally; I need not a makeover,” Y/N shook her head as she pulled away from Belle.

       “Whatever you say. Your ride is just outside. I wish you luck,” Belle smiled before letting Y/N stride towards the main gates of the castle where a black limousine and five armed men were waiting for her. She smiled before hopping in as the car drove away from the palace and into the Isle of the Lost.

       She cast her eyes upon her reflection in the window; she hasn’t seen herself that happy in years. Finally, she was going to have her family back. No realm or king could stop her from finding her way back to her husband.

[maxbradley]

Back Into the Fray

Quiet students filtered through the criss-crossed paths, heads bowed low, peering into parchment. Some read while others took notes. A couple of professors, one stout and one tall, indulged in Tchaikovsky within their noise-cancelling padding at the music appreciation booth. The only sounds were of that of the flipping of pages and the skritch-scratch of ballpoint pens and mechanical pencils, and the occasional click of the due date stamp and stapler. Underneath the high ceiling roof of the mundane conundrum, the college library was having one of its better days. A shady area housed three individuals, two hunched over their homework assignments upon the long desk while the other laid back in the cushioned armchair reading the latest issue of Sports Illustrated: Swimsuit Edition. "Look, Bobby, you're just as behind on your work as I am—and you haven't missed a single class!" "Wassah?" The dog took a gloved hand and lowered his blue-tinted shades, as if he never knew. "Don't play dumb!" Max hissed, keeping his voice low enough to not disturb the study of others. PJ looked away from his notebook and nodded his head in agreement before speaking, "At this rate you might as well get kicked out." Bobby groaned and covered his face with the 2-page pin-up of a voluptuous lady clad in a polka dot bikini, "But it's so boring, Economics." "At least get the first five chapters and then we could hang out at the café— "Or go out to the club— The black dog let out a smirk, "That works too, but hurry it up—I'm starving!" "Fine!" The magazine lay on the cushion as the lazy boy rummaged through his pack to take out the crumpled packets. … "Oh man—Peej, did we have to get that book too?" "Yeah. Go look for it in the Reference Section and make some photocopies; here," handing Max a five-dollar bill. He was about to protest when his best friend raised a hand, "use it." "Thanks, Peej.." ***** Goof Boy sighed as he browsed through rows upon rows of dusty covers, trying to find that book assigned for the class to buy weeks earlier. He would have stuck around for those classes, if it hadn't been for that "little incident" in the locker room… "Just my luck," through grit teeth. It had been a month after they crashed together. All Max could remember before fainting from exhaustion was being laid out on the narrow wooden bench, feeling himself clothed by the man that nearly killed him. He was able to catch a glimpse of the crimson liquid as it flowed down the metal grill, but was too tired at the time to feel sick to his stomach— And his voice. So gentle— "Max." Too familiar. Breathing stopped for a millisecond before the boy wheeled around and glared into sapphire orbs. All of a sudden the dust in the air smelled of musk. Maximilian caught himself in the last second before shouting out an obscenity, biting his tongue down.

Never did Bradley realize that they were practically the same height. It was hard to look down on the naïve individual—this supposed "good kid" on campus. Already a tinge of envy flushed his cheeks, showing red. Max felt something catch in his dry throat. Both had to look away at a wall, shelf or something to distract from this awkward first encounter after that strange afternoon. Painful seconds went by before the white dog looked down in front of the kid and cleared his throat, "How've you been?" "Terrible." "You sure about that?" "Positive." Brad growled, "Can you stop answering in one-word sentences??" "No." Deadpan look. The jock furrowed his brows closer together and raised shaking fists before shutting his eyes, and taking a good, long breath. He swore he heard a chuckle from the other guy's throat, only augmenting his frustration, "Max." as the hot air escaped him, "I just want to know if you're doing better. That's all I need to know. If you don't want to talk, I understand! I'll leave you alone— "Then why the hell are you here?!" Louder hiss— "Actually, Max, I want to know, if… " Bradley trailed off on his words as a classmate of theirs strutted by, the girl's hips swaying—She wasn't alone. The dark-skinned chick was followed by a couple others, equally attractive. Max couldn't help but follow Brad's gaze, but was left in his spot as the senior caught up to the chatter and began to work his black magic. In a matter of minutes the students were giggling madly, blush attacking their cheeks. Bradley didn't even have to touch them. His gentlemanly demeanor made them putty in his hands, "Why don't you all come over to the Gamma House tomorrow night? We're holding your typical frat party. Bring some more of your friends along, won't you? You lovely ladies~" He slipped them his personal business card and both males stared after their departure. Brad turned around to catch Max leaning against the shelf, mouth hanging wide open in astonishment, "How--? You just—Heh??" loss for words, The guy laughed aloud—"Shh!" from the other side of the towering wall of books—"Jealous much??" Max just looked at him, dumbfounded… "May… be?" "Well, ha, don't be. You're not a chick, are you?" "I'm not a chick!" Max's face flared with pink when his stomach doubled over and growled. Lunchtime wasn't too far off. Grateful that the ice was broken, Bradley chuckled into his loose fist and got straight to his offer, "Do you want to hang out later, tonight?" Goof was taken aback by this brash approach; the pink went a couple of shades darker before he felt a twinge within the denim cover, throwing his cheeks into a red color. And still hungry. "I, gotta go." Max was about to run away before he groaned, "I couldn't find the book I was looking for dammit!" Holding up a slip of paper in his rival's face. A thumb and finger ripped it away from his grasp and before the boy knew it he had a weight thrown into his fumbling hands. Pages fluttered before the cover slammed the hard thin carpet. "You're welcome." The senior whirled around and left him there kneeling to pick up the required Economics text. When Max knew that the man had exited the scene, he began to pant wildly, quietly. His arms shook violently, and he did everything in his power to control the blood rush flowing through his being: A bead of sweat rolled down his damp forehead, and he wiped it off just as quick. So maybe he wasn't feeling oh so terrible, after all. "Max-a-million! Where'd you die off to??" The glove brushed through the black hair; the boy regained all sanity and smiled sheepishly at his friends, "Don't worry guys— It took forever to find this stupid book!" ***** "Do you want to 'hang out'?? What the hell… " Max echoed to himself and felt a chill go down his spine on this early September night. Homecoming wasn't too far off. "Whatever." Taking his gloves and rubbing his bare arms for warmth, slowly shifting his weight forward on the dark Frat Row street, sneakers kicking loose pieces of the cracked asphalt. The crunch of gravel was almost soothing as he attempted to filter his downright stupidity for even thinking to walk around these parts of the college town. Max Goof felt guilty for cutting his party with the guys short, telling them through the booming stereo and the strobe lights that he had, apparently, more homework to do. They won't be back at the dorm anytime soon. The house loomed over him in a black silhouette, the full moon glaring down on its peaked roof. Like some haunted mansion. He shuddered. The wooden planks creaked with each careful step. He held his breath as he faced the slab separating him from his living hell. The unsure hand curled onto itself. Max took a breath as if diving into a pool, shut his eyes and tightened the fist. Then, the weight came down. "Don't bother." The silence shattered. The boy almost cracked his neck to see a flash of red that disappeared within the orbs and darkened features of his predator, "So, you really want this, don't you?" A devilish smirk. "You almost gave me a heart attack!" The other hyperventilating. "Aren't you a little young to have that?" "Shut up!" A practical yell. Bradley burst laughing in good health, "If we were friends, I'd say you're the funniest one I've had!" What is wrong with this freak?! A manly pat on the back took on a firm grip, "Come on in~" The door opened with ease; practically open. Maximilian took this precious time to scan the whole house; they walked at a normal pace. He spotted a billiard table, an unlit fireplace and mantle, a mirror, their coat of arms. Everything was coated in thick shadows; no one seemed to be here. Eerie. The path separated into two hallways. The boy lost his sense of direction. Pretty soon the two went up a flight of grand stairs, scarlet and velvet and a shine of pale yellow in the moonlight, "Is this gold?" Gloves ran a finger on the railing as he whispered in awe. "Easily impressed—like a child, I see." The dog blushed in embarrassment, "I'm not a child." "Don't lie to me, kid—you might have gone nuts the last time but I can still see your innocent self," "What?" Max frowned, "I don't remember that." Bradley seemed a little confused himself, "Well, yeah, don't you—?" he coughed violently as if erasing over what he just said, "—Does your head still hurt, Max?" " . . . It's fine." A heavy silence hung over their heads when they reached the end of the bedroom hall, in front of dark double doors, etched with a plethora of carvings—symbols. Thousands of eyes stared the couple down from the thick wood. Columns on both sides of the door touched the ceiling, frilling out at the top in the form of wings—intricate, and overpowering. The largest eye radiated with the glitter of gold dust with elegance, a menace. Above everything . . . "This is…” - hating to sound feminine as the boy's eyes drank this work of art in, "beautiful." "Dangerous." Two strong hands pushed the barrier open. Bradley didn't even wait for the doors to close—Grabbing a rough hold around the boy's waist, the other hand thrust into Max's shirt and rubbed up, down his sides, back, chest— The nipples hardened through the black fur, "Bradley!— "You're mine." A deep growl—dark and sensual; Max jolted with ecstasy despite his mental protests, "stop—!" Already sweating, the jock removed his thick sweater and began to unbutton a crisp, super-thin work shirt with such fervor, "Take it off!—"What?!" "Off!" Going into the sophomore's neck and taking a forceful tongue to the shoulder blade, within— "Brad”—a playful bite, "Bradley!" he breathed. Panting wildly, Max saw bare fingers exposed when his personal enemy removed the glove. Ebony took the bottom of his pale red top and raised it up and over his head while the other, shirt open, began to suck mercilessly on his collarbone, letting his own hands run rampant across the boy's damp chest, down his abdomen.—"Oh!" growling on his own. Bradley grabbed his ass before raising his legs against the closed door and let his kisses travel wherever bare flesh resided; the deepest kiss within Max's navel—Calloused hands thrust onto the jock's head and pulled at his hair in tight fists pushing inward to his skull—All at once Max heard a crazed voice within him, Crush it. Before the command carried out, he let out a groan when something pressed against the bulge in his jeans—The young man bit through the rough material at something hard and quivering— "F—Fu—!" Max couldn't even finish his cursing—The man under him began to suck harder through the denim, "Moan." "Godda—"Do it!!" "No!" Max bit his lip and belted out a scream—"I said do it—kid!" "NO!" Bellowing and letting a fist slam onto Brad's head— The senior convulsed in rage and tore away from the wall, letting the kid take a hard fall on his rear end— "Ow! Brad, what the hell—!" Shoulders pinned against the wall, "Max. You wanna have a good time? You play nice. And I'll give you a good time." The boy glared at his contorted expression; throat scratched to gather up enough saliva to spit in the leader's face—"You play, breaking the rules, and I'll give you a rough screwover—You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Last couple of words a harsh whisper. Max paled and choked a bit on the mouth's acid as he swallowed it down. " . . . I don't. I-I'll, play”—hating himself for saying this—"nice." Brad removed the shirt completely, "Good." A sudden smile escaped his lips and the other shuddered—being carried up in fleshed strong arms like a woman to bed— A woman. Max's dignity shot to the ground—"Stop that! Let me go—Brad!!" Flailing arms fisting his chin trying to crush the jaw— "Dammit, Max!" Eyes wild—"You're not making this easy for either one of us!" "Well then I guess this is a good thing!" He spat. The jock grit his teeth madly and rather threw him into the sheets— Blood red, luxurious, silken sheets—"Max! You're such a bitch!" Yelling at his face, which reverted back to that deadpan look, "That makes two of us." Lip curled. The white dog leered over the other, who sat himself up to maintain equal eye level—Both glared into each other's pupils, one with damaged pride; the other with a latent wrath… Minutes trudged on in the muck of their hatred for each other… Yet, at the same time… "You're such a stubborn bitch." "Thank you." letting out a sigh. Bradley's eyelids closed halfway, taking a hand through his own hair, and then brushed though Max's, fingers smoothly running down that floppy ear. The fingers cupped his chin, gentle. Silent. Their frowns stayed in place; but then slowly loosened—relaxed, even.  As lips moved closer together Max had to look away, behind him, embarrassed. The lids of both males drooped filtering out any light, the dim light cast upon them in an ominous glow. Their world went black when tissue made contact, softly. Max didn't know why, but he felt almost safe in this isolation. He kissed back, holding on to Bradley's bottom lip— The jock felt a hot rush to his cheeks and tilted his head, twisting his neck to get past the muzzle and into the crevice… The enemies could not restrain themselves any longer—"Max!" The senior took a deep breath of oxygen and thrust his tongue within the boy's mouth, he doing the same—both faces flared with scarlet. The dog leaned forward, dragging Max up the bed—pressing his leg right on the crotch, bending it even more to rest upon the stomach. The boy let a hand rest within the sandy brown keratin, his own hair tousled, while the other rested at his side, leaving Uppercrust to do whatever he wished. The kiss ended. Max finally opened his eyes to a sane man, who was blushing all the while as the saliva gooped down his chin. He wiped it off and, breathing shallow, planted a small peck upon his compromised lover's forehead, beading with sweat. Tan fingers trailed down the boy's face, aching neck, breast and navel and upon the zipper—Max let out a shaky sigh as he heard the fabric being pried open, "Unbutton it for me." Goof Boy did just that. "Now mine… unzip. Slip 'em off as far as you can." If it hadn't been for the threat earlier, the black dog wouldn't have been so subservient. Bradley suddenly pulled the jeans down, underwear and all, peeled them off Max's ankles and feet and threw them off the king-sized mattress— "Hey!" Careful not to raise his voice as he saw himself exposed to his rival, who licked his lips hungrily. Pink burned the other dog's cheek, "Brad…" A long, thin finger stroked the length of the throbbing organ, down the sacs, and back up again, with the whole hand petting the tamed animal down, "Bradley." Biting his lip to suppress a moan. The stray appendages went lower, closing in to that familiar entrance—"please stop." A tiny whimper as Max dug his own fingers into the bed sheets, controlling an emerging aggravation. "I'm such a tease!" Giggling to himself, the young man finally took off his own pants and boxers. That last time, Max never bothered to check out his "friend's" package—Blushing madly, he had to look away and cough into a woven fist—Everything about his rival's body was arousing, perverted. Hanging around with PJ and Bobby for so long, he forgot what an ideal man looked like; to not have an ounce of fat in his anorexic gut. Brad could write an entire ode—an essay—on the boy's wide hips, at the same time sporting a lovely, slender waist and toned, strong legs. Had he not known any better, he would have thought that he was about to fuck a girl! He had to stop himself from coming at the very idea. The face he made the boy giggle, "pfft! Ha haha!”—delving into his dad's famous chuckle— Agh! "goddammit!" Sweat flew a mile's radius as he clamped his mouth shut! The senior got startled at first, then broke into a good humored smile, laughing at his new friend's blunder, "Cute!" "I'm not cute!" "You're sexy, then!" "What??" It took them a whole minute to calm themselves down. As they controlled their breathing Max had sat up and leaned his head onto Brad's shoulder. This surprised him; he expected a tight wound fist. Unsure of what to do next, an arm hesitantly raised itself, curling and uncurling fingers until they hovered over Max and rested on the side of the neck. "What now?" Goof Boy asked. The dominant nature of the young man returned. He twisted his neck in the direction of the voice and gave Max a kiss on the cheek, "Make a wish on the Morning Star… and close your eyes."

[paulieshore]

Obey Me / SCM Au Series

Warnings: Cursing, Triggers of repression, conflict of interest

Words: 2965

Chapter 5: It’s Been A Long Time

Diavolo’s Castle

“You’re going to the human realm?” Diavolo asks, again.

“For the third time, yes. Myself and my brothers have decided to see Y/N.” Lucifer explains.

“I do not think that is wise...”

Silence follows, both in thought.

“I understand your concerns Diavolo, however, I- we cannot put our minds to ease without seeing her.”

Lucifer taps his fore finger impatiently, Diavolo sensing him on edge.

“Lucifer, and I mean this with no offence, but seriously… Do you think they’ll let you, let alone your brothers see her? It is said a great barrier guards that place, for the fortress that it is. You may not be able to get through the barrier.”

Lucifer inhales deeply. “I’m well aware of the magic that safe guards the mansion. Rest assured, I have thought this through. There will be no conflict, you have my word, and my loyalty. I will not threaten the very goal you seek to accomplish.”

“Lucifer, I do not question your loyalty, but your heart.”

Lucifer’s eyes widen, “Pardon?”

“You and your brothers have not experienced the power of the dark king and his disciples, the very same energy flows through us all here. If we’re not careful, any one of us, can become mindless puppets to his dismay. I believe in your words, but the darkness is stirring, spreading with in the shadows. My informant tells me even earth seems to have a spike in chaos, I worry you and your brothers will not be able to contain the force of energy that festers.”

“…”

“I will grant this little trip, but mark my words Lucifer. If anything happens, there will be punishments. Regardless of who started it or not.” Diavolo warned before dismissing him.

…

Lucifer walked out if the castle, outside waiting anxiously, 6 of his brothers.

Belphie quickly asks “Well?”

“We’re clear to go, we have been warned. Anything happens, there will BE consequences.” Lucifer looks to Mammon and Satan when he said the last words. “So, BEHAVE.”

.

House of Gods

Twelve figures meet in the common room, without your knowledge.

.

“So, your saying, they’re going to attempt coming here?” Karno confirms, with a look of concern.

Leon laughs, “I don’t know if their incredibly brave or incredibly stupid.” Taking another swig from his wine.

Aigonorus mumbles in his sleep, “so… boring…”

“Hey Aig, were in a middle of a meeting. Wake up” Tauxolouve gently shakes his fellow god.

Scorpio snarls “Leave him be, he’s useless to us anyways.”

“Not nearly as useless as your punishment dogs.” Leon bites back, defending his subordinate.

“That’s quite enough. Fighting amongst ourselves, at a serious time like this, is just as useless.” Zyglavis folds his arms.

Leon scoffs, “Everything is serious when it comes to you, minister ponytail.”

Dui shakes his head, “Can’t we just get on with the meeting, do you really think they’re brave enough to show face after all this time.”

Teorus with a look of disappointment, “Goldie is going to be sad; she’s wished so badly just to see them. They’ll be within ear shot and were told we have to keep her away?” Shaking his head. “I don’t want to make Goldie sad...”

Partheno - “Teo you seem to forget; we’re dealing with demons. Not your average soul, Goldie’s heart has probably already been manipulated by these said demons.”

“Y/N!”

Everyone cocks an eyebrow to Karno.

“Her name is Y/N, can’t you at least call her by her name…”

“My, my has she manipulated you now Karno?” Partheno says mockingly.

Karno gives Partheno a serious look, eyebrows pinching together.

.

You were just finishing your bath, surprisingly, since your return you hadn’t had anyone knocking at your door. Not even the trickster was trying anything, you felt something amiss. After dressing, you decide to take a walk through the halls.

They could have gone to the heavens? Might not see anyone – You tell yourself as you step through the threshold of the door way.

There was all sorts of statues and paintings in the halls, all in which; looked ancient. They were well looked after, reminded you, of the artefacts in Diavolo’s castle.

You had been wondering around for maybe thirty minutes, the hallways began to feel like a labyrinth.

Admitting to yourself, lost.

You heard a variety of voices coming from one of the doors, curiosity got the best of you. Inching closer and quietly to hear better.

“…you seem to forget; we’re dealing with demons. Not your average soul, Goldie’s heart has probably already been manipulated by these said demons.” A voice says

You weren’t familiar with this voice, then you heard Karna belt your name.

Nearly pissing your pants!

You freeze and the conversation continues, “Her name is Y/N, can’t you at least call her by her name…”

Yikes, you thought you had been found out… You were about to sneak away when you heard Minister Jackass speak.

“None of that matters. The King declares when those filthy scumbags show, we drive them away. Make it very clear where we stand and where their places are!”

You froze again.

They’re coming here!?!?!

Containing a squeal of joy, doing a mental happy dance. Which you quickly disengaged when you remembered the difference between them and well... them.

The void between them was huge… Nothing like the issues between brothers, this goes beyond anything you could understand or fix for the matter.

…

*CLICK*

The door opened.

“Well, well, ease dropping, are we?” the voice you heard earlier. It belonged to this extremely pretty, pink haired man; in a punishment uniform.

You shook your head with such speed, voice stammering “no, no I’m lost, walk- I wanted to stretch my legs and got l-lost. Heard voices s-so f-followed!”

He grabbed your arm and yanked you into the room.

12 pairs of eyes were on you.

“Oh shit” …

.

.

Devildom

The brothers made their way towards the portal, they would have left a lot sooner. However, one brother had the idea to bring you something, so naturally they ALL had to bring you something.

Lucifer checked the time, “We need to pick up the pace.”

“Why?” asked Satan

“The train will leave soon, and we will pop up walking distance from the station.”

“Can’t we just pop up nearer to the mansion?”

“No, it’s impossible”

….

PORTAL JUMP: HUMAN REALM

….

Asmo skips about, “I absolutely love Tokyo” Spinning around in the street “the culture is fascinating!”

Belphie too was constantly in wonder, “Things really have changed since I last visited!”

“Quickly, I will not miss the train because of your tourism!” Lucifer snapped hurryingly along the busy crowds.

How the seven of them managed to make it to the train in time was indeed surprising. Mammon wanted to buy everything he’d seen (or get Lucifer too anyways). Levi was stunned by all the manga on display nearby, Beel wondering off, due to the smell of food carrying on the wind.

In the end they made the train, just in time. It was going to be at least an hour and forty-five-minute ride before their stop.

.

“So, Lucifer how exactly do you know where we need to go?”

Lucifer peaks over to Asmo who has his head lent against the side, examining his nails.

“The House of Gods has always been in the same place, only… As time goes on, they have changed the way it looks to keep up with relevancy.”

“But… Didn’t you say it was in a run-down mansion? Not exactly keeping it up?”

“It’s a safety measure...” Lucifer says in almost a whisper.

“A what now?” Satan steps into the conversation “Why would gods need a safety measure?”

“…”

“Yo guys, can we like, stop. Or has it slipped your minds Lucifer used to serve those arrogant snobs.” Mammon inputs, staring out the window at the city passing by.

“…”

The rest of the ride was quiet, everyone seemed to be mentally preparing themselves.

.

They exited the train station and walked on foot, Lucifer led them out the city and into a well forested area. The further in they went, the more dread crept in.

.

“YOOOOOOOOO, guys we need a break. I’m not like this feeling, not one bit!” Mammon sluggishly tucks in behind Levi.

Levi “Why do I feel like my body is made of the heaviest of led… Like the time the Lord of Shadows was cursed, before Henry came along and saved him.”

Lucifer turned around and met each of his brothers’ eyes, “Like I said, safety measures.”

“Are we walking into a barrier?” Belphie asks, leaning on Beel.

Lucifer ridicules, “We haven’t even reached the barrier yet... Far from.”

They all share a quick look of horror before Lucifer ushers them to keep going.

.

House of Gods

“Don’t lie to us, we’re gods. Lying to a god is a punishable offence.” The one with pink hair said with the perviest smile.

“Enough Partheno, you’ll scare the poor thing.” Teorus skips up to you “Hiya Goldie, it is naughty though ease dropping on us like that.” Shaking his finger at you.

You seemed to have found yourself surrounded next, even if you wanted to run, where could you run too.

“L-look, I didn’t hear much, o-okay. Something about knowing where someone s-stands...” You lie again.

Leon stands up from his seat, placing his wine glass down and marching up to you.

“Your filthy friends are coming… You want to see them, yes?”

Your knees begin shaking when he asks you, you want to nod, fear takes hold and you find yourself just staring at him.

Leon gave you mixed feelings, fear and….

Arousal? No matter how much you tried to push it away, it surfaced.

They were definitely one thousand times scarier, and more mind boggling, than anyone you’d met in Devildom.

You finally said something, but in almost a whisper “Why are you all so mean, aren’t you supposed to be gods.” tears begin to form, voice breaking “I didn’t ask for any of this, I have been nothing but respectful, why are you so hateful…”

A few faces in the room seemed to be shocked by your courage to speak so outright.

Scorpio though not impressed, “Stupid woman, we’re gods! We’re meant to strike fear into the hearts of mortals.”

Your eyes never leaving Leon, he reached out and swiped a tear that slid down your cheek. Your cheek goes blazing hot upon contact.

“For someone SOO brave, you sure do cry a lot, huh”

.

Demon Lords Castle

“Barbatos, what have you seen?” Diavolo looks to him entering the room.

Barbatos bows deeply “My lord, they’ve reached the area, it’s going to be a struggle to get even close to the house…. I worry whether they’ll have the strength to be able to leave in time…”

“Barbatos, I asked what did you see?” Diavolo’s expression shifting.

His eyes close before answering, “This is going to be a physical and mental challenge for them ALL. I’m afraid there’s no returning from this point, not without Y/N.”

Diavolo nods his head in thought, “Our little friend certainly knows how to deal with those boys” smiling softly after.

“THEY, need her too...” Barbatos looks at Diavolo, with a smile on his face.

“Explain”

.

In the depths far from devildom

Far from prying eyes, deep within crusted rock and molten lava. An old fortress made of stone, destroyed and crumbling. Miasma air, filled with the smell of death.

A relic of the past.

.

“My Liege you are free at last! We have long awaited your return!” Shadows hooded and cloaked.

“We can take revenge on all those who defy you! Give us your orders, let us do your bidding!!” another shadow spews like a snake.

The Dark King slowly opens his eyes, “More, I need more!” Tossing away a lifeless body. “This incubus and all the others are not enough! I need the girl… The one with the power! BRING ME THE GIRL!!!!!”

As he screeched his orders all shadows dissipated, he sunk back into his broken throne of stone. Eyes swirling with discord.

Hissing, “I will destroy everything, and anyone who stands in my way… I will have your life and my vengeance, goddess!”

“Mark my words.”

.

.

The House of Gods

Karno stepped in to give you some space from the others, you used that moment and broke out. Sprinting as fast as you could, “Y/N!?!” a few voices sounded from behind.

.

You ran, down hallways and corridors, just running like your life depended on it (probably did). Somehow, found yourself in an open area. You ran down a flight of steps, and through the first door you seen. Stepping out and realising you had found the front door outside.

Mentally preparing yourself to run straight into the bushes and trees ahead.

Just as you caught your breath and ready to run again, a hand from behind gripped your arm tightly.

You screamed, “AHHHHHH”

“Let go of me!” turning around –

It’s Leon. Eyes reflecting, like a predator caught its prey in the night.

.

.

.

The brothers were dragging themselves…

“Have we reached the barrier yet? We must of by now, I feel like my insides are going to combust!” Asmo breathlessly claims.

All of them looked worse for wears, even Lucifer was beginning to sweat profoundly.

In the distance they heard a very familiar scream.

“Y/N!?!?!?!”

They conjured whatever strength they had stored deep within and rush towards the direction the scream sounded from.

.

.

“Where on earth do you think you’re going” Leon licks his lips before they curve up into a conniving smile.

You tried to shake him off, and in that moment a voice from behind.

“I do believe I heard her say ‘let go’!”

Lucifer and the others stand breathlessly, in their demon forms.

Leon forces you into his chest, and aggressively holds there. “Well, well, well, we’d been expecting you.” You couldn’t see his face, but his chest rumbled, and you felt an aura of power and wind surround you two.

“Y/N *huff* are you okay?!” Mammon looked like shit, but his face was full of concern. “Yo man, *huff* let her go!”

Leon growled, “You dare give me orders, scum!”

“YOU, DON’T GET TO CALL HIM THAT!” Satan radiates

.

Flashes of lights blurred your vision momentarily, and then 10 figures were standing infront of you and Leon.

A gasp was heard from Beel and Belphie, “YOU!” Eyes staring bewildered at Tauxolouve.

.

.

Flashback…

During the Celestial War it was Tauxolouves’ arrows that pierced through Lilith like a down pour of rain.

.

.

Tauxolouve stood tall, eyes never wondering from Belphie and Beel.

Scorpio stepped forward. “You’re still alive, that’s a pity. I’m going to have to dirty my gloves finishing you off.” Eyeing them in disgust.

Lucifer adjusted his posture and the feathers on his black wings ruffle.

“…”

“We’re not here to fight, *huff* I think it’s clear we’re at a disadvantage… We came to see Y/N…” Mammon barely huffs out.

“Cowardly as ever, aren’t you Mammon.” Krioff barks out.

Mammon laughs, “… *huff* and your still as grumpy as ever, pal”

“I AM NOT YOUR PAL!”

Another light shines, separating the brothers and the gods with a wall of pure light.

“That’s quite enough.”

Huedaut takes place between.

“Hello boys, it’s been a long time, hasn’t it?” His eyes twinkling and sight falling on Satan “and you must be Satan, yes? Avatar of Wrath.”

Satan’s angry scowl turned into one of shock. He had no idea who this person was, but yet felt an incredible sense of respect and warmth towards him. His calming in emotions caused him to change back from his demon form.

.

You were held in place, powerless, onlooking to the scene ahead. The moment Huedaut appeared, all their attention was focused on him. Faces changing into sadness, and guilt, though eyes reflecting empathy.

.

“Hue, we have our orders!” Zyglavis steps next to Scorpio “Would you go against you Kings wishes?!”

.

Lucifer caught a glimpse of sadness flash in Huedaut eyes when Zyglavis spoke.

“No, I would not, however, contrary to his orders. He stated, ‘Drive them away, show them where we stand and their place’. In which, I have.” Hue turned to Zyglavis “We are here, they are there.” Pointing to each sides of the barrier. “There will be no violence, I’m sure there will be enough to come.” His eyes fleeting to you, before quickly casting them away.

“…father….” Beel slips out.

Huedaut straightens his spine and adjusts his cufflinks “Boys, as you can see your friend is alright, rest assured. Leave quickly, you won’t be able to hold out much longer.”

You tried to yell “Go n-“ till a hand clamped your mouth shut.

“You should have been destroyed when you turned your backs against the heavens, ungrateful swine’s.” Leon pulled you inside.

Dragging you along against him, you don’t know what happened outside.

.

Your heart was breaking, into tiny little fragments, a moment of nostalgia. As if you’ve experienced it once before.

.

Leon dragged you into another unfamiliar room, throwing you onto the bed. Before you could react, his body was pressed fiercely onto yours. You managed to get your hands on his chest and try with dear might to push him away, with fail.

“So, tell me goldfish, what makes you SO special? Hmm, you’ve got demons wrapped around your little finger, you’ve got MY vice minister, and you even have Hue. Why don’t you show me what makes you so special then?” face inches away, eyes blazing hungerly.

 To Be Continued

 CH1 - CH2 - CH3 - CH4 - CH6

Already started seven, but giving sometime so i dont spam with stories xx like, comment, reblog, thank you for your support 

Mwah

 Story is now on AO3 and i will continue to cross post.