#mature rating and a cut: I'M NOT TAKING ANY CHANCES

[captainhysunstuff]

The saucy thing that L sees is below the cut~.

A little something for @dnkinktober. Not very explicit, but it could sorta satisfy the prompts of lingerie, slight roleplay, and implied voyeurism. I guess cock bulge? It's there. *shrug*

I literally saw this in a dream: that I was reading a doujinshi with this exact scene. It was me yelling at L instead of Ryuk, but still. Ryuk wants to get the show on the road! I'm sure they banged hard after L pulled himself back together. *nods*

Happy early birthday, L~.

[wastemanjohn]

fic masterlist

wincest and daddycest. follow the smell of dead doves under the cut :)

sam/dean:

when i'm down on your knees you're how i pray Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 13,703; Warnings: Incest

Summary: It’s not as if Sam doesn’t know what makes Dean tick, after all. He can’t have forgotten all the fantasies Dean has shared with him over the years, even the really nasty, violent ones that flushed Sam's cheeks a glaring scarlet, evoked awed responses like "Jesus, Dean, you’re really into stuff like that?" Dean didn't mind - quite liked watching Sam squirm, actually - and he'd long since accepted that he’d likely never get Sam on board with acting out the more grisly tales buried deep in his spank bank. But then again, Sam is different since he...

Dean still can’t use the words “Sam” and “died” together in the same sentence.

some unholy war

Rating: Explicit; 12,328 words; Warnings: Incest, Canon-Typical Violence

Summary: Somewhere between a bar fight and the end of the world, Sam and Dean learn to take care of each other again.

exit light

Rating: Mature; Word Count: 3,730; Warnings: Incest

Summary: Tonight doesn’t smooth over all the ways their lives are in ruins, hand back all that he and Dean have lost, atone for all the things it’s driven them to. It certainly doesn’t change the fact that one year from now, Dean is going to die. 

heart of a dog

Rating: Explicit, Word Count: 2k, Warnings: Incest, Sam is 17

Summary: They were supposed to be going to the fucking laundromat. But that was almost four hours ago, and Sam can smell the musty sweat wafting through from where their clothes are still festering in the trunk. He should really have learned by now not to trust Dean, when he insists on his little bar detours on the way - just a quick one, Sammy, don’t be such a little bitch. The thing is, the chances of it being a quick one are always about as slim as Sam’s patience right now; and a quick one always evolves into half the damn bar when a pretty young thing catches Dean’s eye.

Her name is Daisy. Dean’s probably forgotten that by now. He’s definitely forgotten about Sam. 

♡♡♡♡

john/dean and sam/dean:

what it is

Rating: Explicit; 48,258 words; Warnings: Non Con Elements, Incest, Canon Typical Violence

Summary: Everything that has ever gone wrong for Sam and Dean starts and ends with John.

i don't mean to suggest that i loved you the best

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 1,930; Warnings: Incest

Summary: Dean’s need is a dark pit, a bleak, bottomless thing, and that’s the pull. That’s the lure, for John. People who need the way Dean does, people who want to crawl inside the ones they love and live there forever, they’re easy to control. They’ll do anything for you. John finds that fucking irresistible.

Sam hates his father. But he understands him perfectly.

with new bones in your closet

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 4,890; Warnings: Incest, BDSM

Summary: It’s almost funny. It’s almost too predictable that Dean would do this for John, be this for John, take his submission to all too literal levels.

destructive love is all i am

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 604; Warnings: Incest

Summary: Things like this don't just go away.

love is

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 2323; Warnings: Incest, Non Con

Summary: Love is all you are.

shimmer and rot

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 3012, Warnings: Non Con, implied CSA

Summary: That witching hour loneliness can eat you alive.

snuff

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 4552; Warnings: Incest, Homicidal thoughts, Sam is 17

Summary: There's nothing good on TV, and Sam's contemplating killing his father again.

the world was so easily won

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 3153; Warnings: Dub Con Elements, Incest, Violence

Summary: The bites are about five days old now. They’re not healing well, skin-split punctures and raised pinks and purples. Any forming scabs have chafed raw all over again under Dean’s clothes. And Sam’s running his fingers over the worst ones, almost gentle, like a doctor examining an open wound. There’s nothing at all gentle about Sam’s rage-tight mouth though. Nor his mutter of, “I’ll fucking kill him.”

♡♡♡♡

johndean

toss me a breath when you hold me down

Rating: Explicit; 1624 words; Warnings: Incest, consensual non consent

Summary: It's never been quite like this.

and if you crave it then you know that you are injured

Explicit; 3593 words; Warnings: Non Con Elements and a very nasty John

Summary: He doesn’t even flinch when John’s hand comes down on his thigh. Doesn’t pull away when John flutters his lips over the nape of his boy’s neck and whispers, “Why don’t you let me take care of you?”

when i hear your lips make a sound

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 2682; Warnings: Incest

Summary: It's a damn risky thing to do, with Bobby asleep upstairs. But Dean never disobeys his father, and he’s horny as all hell. It’s not a prime combination for sensible decision making.

i heard love is blind

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 12,764; Warnings: Incest; addition of John/OMC

Summary: There are a few shadowy figures on the sidewalk, the night’s offerings left on the shelf. They're all boys, their frames slight and their legality dubious. They look up at the sight of John’s headlights, but he keeps his head forward and carries on driving. He’s seen exactly what he’s looking for just up the street.

The boy is alone. He's a cookie cutter street whore, all mesh and tight pants. John can see the ghostly entrails of his breath, the skinny arms wrapped around his chest like chains. When John winds down his window, the kid steps forward in a tired, non-urgent sort of way. His lack of pretence is appealing.

John checks him over to make doubly sure that he's the right choice. He’s tall. His hipbones jut a little, distorting his tight pants, the waistband flapping over his barely there stomach. His hair is a few shades light of brown; it's short, but chunky and uneven, like he's cut it himself without a mirror. When John peers closer, he can see that the kid's lips are full and pink. That definitely helps. He's not to John's exact specifications, especially with his completely absent bulk, but he'll do. Beggars, choosers, all that noise.

and you learn how to settle for what you get

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 3,163; Warnings: Dub Con, Incest

Summary: Yet John chooses this, over and over again. John loves Dean more than he loves anything.

sharp teeth, dry heat

Rating: Explicit; Words: 2504; Warnings: Incest, grief (addition of dean/ofc)

Summary: Your world was terrifying, and John knew how hard he was to love.

someone forever warm

Rating: Explicit; Words: 4290; Warnings: Incest

Summary: He takes a moment to enjoy the thought that John has slayed the monster, now he’s come to claim his prize.

trade

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 771; Warnings: Non Con Elements

Summary: You'll hide from mirrors until the marks fade away.

nowhere boy

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 2528; Archive Warnings: Incest

Summary: The true meaning of Christmas is family, and all that crap. Everyone always forgets about Jesus. Probably a good thing, Dean thinks, as he adjusts the red ribbon around his neck with its dumb little bow and checks himself out one last time in the smudged bathroom mirror. Jesus definitely wouldn’t approve of what he’s about to do.

quiet room

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 1878; Archive Warnings: Non Con, Incest, BDSM

Summary: This is what love looks like.

the dark is light enough

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 3219; Archive Warnings: Incest

Summary: It's hard, with the lights on. Lights on, with his boy so close John can hear his pulse; see the freckles dusting the tops of his thighs, the strip of fine hair from his belly button down to his groin; pert pink nipples on a chest that blushes from the middle out when he's excited, all these intimate details John shouldn't know; but he sits with it, he breathes it in and he lives with it. The closeness; the vulnerability; like an exposed nerve.

Yeah, it's hard, hard to face this. Who they are, what they've become. But John isn't doing it to punish himself. He's doing this for Dean.

yesterday's hymn

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 1323; Warnings: Non Con; past CSA: addition of original male character

Summary: A bad man doesn't pawn his soul so his son can live.

so many moving parts

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 7302; Archive Warnings: Incest

Summary: And sure, no one’s actually said the word anniversary, but they've never had a day like this before.

when the stiff wind blows

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 8625; Warnings: Incest, BDSM

Summary: Dean is in tune with John's patterns and emotions, even some four states outside of their blast radius; and when John withdraws, Dean chases. Dean knows his absence, his distance, when John is not fucking handling it. And somewhere along the way - he learned how to help.

then leave me the bones

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 6816; Warnings: Heavy Angst, Incest, Dub Con

Summary: John’s moods are like a slow growing tumor. Easy to miss at first. Causing all kinds of problems when it's too late.

stutter

Rating: Mature; Word Count: 1655; Warnings: Incest

Summary: You know there is so much harm Dad could do in these moments, if he were so inclined. He as good as says it himself sometimes, with his quiet promises of I'd never hurt you, Dean, like a pre-emptive hail Mary for his sin.

♡♡♡♡

johndeanna:

now bleed for me

Rating: Explicit; Words: 3689; Warnings: Incest, Gunplay

Summary: John comes back unsteady, whisky on his tongue, scents of tobacco and cheap perfume clinging to the jacket Deanna loves to wear, because it’s so heavy and big on her, it smothers her like a hug. My dad, Deanna thinks, broken in all the same spots she is, yet so remote. My dad.

i've loved all i've needed, love

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 4602; Warnings: Incest

Summary: She never seemed to realize that her daddy's a piece of shit. John hates the way she found out.

this dream is for you (so pay the price)

Rating: Explicit; Words: 2,333; Warnings: Incest

Summary: So John comes to her, during that weird time that's not really morning or night, comes to her after they've finished half a bottle of Jack and a pack of Lucky Strike between them, comes to her with everything on his face that sits heavy and acidic in Deanna's heart.

all you wanna do

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 10,178; Warnings: Incest, Misogyny

Summary: For the prompt: Deanna’s boyfriend gives her a red lingerie set for Christmas that she opens in front of John (optional: Sam). After OMC is sent home with a chastisement, John makes her show them off to him. Or, Deanna has started dating and John is a fucking creep about it.

a simple motion

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 2353; Warnings: Incest

Summary: But watching her - watching her is different. Watching isn't touching, and there's no law against that.

i'll be your mirror

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 2551; Warnings: Incest, Misogyny

Summary: The girl in his bed isn’t quite his wife, but in the glowy relative darkness she has room to morph. 

one day like this

Rating: Mature; Word Count: 6182; Warnings: Incest, grief

Summary: Sam goes through his father's old photos.

♡♡♡♡

sam/john

coming up roses everywhere

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 14618; Warnings: Incest, Sam is 17

Summary: Where John wasn't planning to snoop around Sam's laptop, but his boy seems to be hiding something.

♡♡♡♡

john/dean and sam/john

don't say you need me when you leave and you leave again (samjohn only quietly implied)

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 8,224; Warnings: Non Con Elements; implied sexual abuse

Summary: Maybe Dad felt the kind of loneliness that ate away at your soul until you lost sight of the fact that you were even alive, maybe Dad needed to grab the nearest willing body and pull it close, close.

♡♡♡♡

dean/mary

this be the verse

Rating: Explicit; Word Count 6822; Warnings: Big Non Con warning for this one. Additional pairings: johndean

Summary: There are a lot of things that Dean doesn’t tell Mary about her husband. It’s best that John stays 27 in her head forever, like Hendrix or something, young and beautiful and fucked up in a pretty unremarkable way.

♡♡♡♡

dean/fem!Sam

when the earth moves again

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 1947; Warnings: Incest, somnophilia

Summary: It was something. Something that felt good; something that some part of him was willing to give her, even if it wasn't conscious, even if it wasn't much. And hell, Sam didn't have much in life that made her feel good.

♡♡♡♡

sam/fem!dean

hunky dory

Rating: Mature; Word Count: 4917; Warnings: Incest, pregnancy resulting from incest

Summary: Deanna went out this afternoon. For hours. Didn't say where she was going; but it's got to be the first time she's left Bobby's place in weeks. She left her phone behind on the nightstand, in this way that Sam couldn't help but suspect was intentional, because there had to be something about that; had to be something in the way Deanna caught Sam's eye through the window as she was coming back, all slow down the path with Dad's jacket over her shoulders and this tight expression on her face. Something in the way Deanna had sharply changed direction at the sight of Sam, veering off until she faded into the salvage yard and Sam couldn't see her anymore. And it's not that Sam meant to be hovering near the front of the house at the exact moment of her return like a worried parent, but shit happens.

Let her be, son, Bobby had said, without looking up from his scotch and that leatherbound demonology book he'd been annotating all day. Harder you push, the more she's gonna clam up.

It bothers Sam when Bobby talks like that, like he knows Deanna better than Sam does or something. As for letting her be - well, if Bobby knows Sam at all, he's got a strange way of showing it

♡♡♡♡

john/original male character

safe in the dark (how can you see?)

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 2492; Archive Warnings: Non Con Elements

Summary: Because maybe there was something about Dad's energy that fizzled with those weary neon lights; and Dad still didn't say much, and Sam still can't read the man's mind, but you don't live for eighteen years close enough to rub up against each others last nerve without learning how to spot when something might be wrong. And theres always something wrong with Dad - he's sour faced and miserable, the cause of that changes day by day - but he'd been so insistent. You don't leave this car, Sammy, okay? This guy's a loose cannon. I don't want him to see you.

Sam had snorted, and Dad had looked at him with resigned contempt; but it had faded quickly, and there'd been that something Sam couldn't put his finger on as Dad had got out of the car. Something about the way he didn't look to check Sam was obeying, something stilted in his footsteps. Something that made Sam log the path he took across the parking lot, register the room number he knocked on. The door had opened, and Dad had gone inside, but it had closed so quickly that Sam hadn't been able to see the guy. The loose cannon.

[arcadia-of-pluto]

Twist of Fate; Chapter Eight

Pairings; LADS OT4 x reader

Word Count; 2,969 (nice)

Themes; isekai, eventual smut

Rating; 18+ for swearing and some mature language

Notes; Last chapter for the weekend, so I hope you all enjoy it! Also, the first of many Sylus-centric chapters. I'm a Rafayel girlie at heart, so it feels wrong to have so many Sylus focused chapters, but it feels like Sylus needs a lot of chapters since he has a lot of good scenes.

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Masterlist

Don't forget to check out my ideas for the future to see what other plans I have for this story and any future ones I plan to write! Also since I accidentally posted seven early, I might as well post eight early as well and then I'll do nine later on today as a treat! 🩷

The next time you wake up, you're in the back of a van with your hands tied together. Your head was pounding, your mouth felt drier than a desert and you could taste something metallic on your tongue. You really didn't even want to open your eyes because of the pain, but you do take a few mental notes. The smell of cheap leather and that the van was still moving, be it shaky and rickety. You're most likely on a dirt road or a road that hasn't been used in some while.

Even though the man threatened to inject you with the neurotoxin, you really thought he'd at least keep his word and not go through with it if you didn't fight, but it seems like he did anyway. Good thing you took the inhibitor Xavier gave you.

Even though it's dark inside the vehicle, you notice your jacket is off to the side but your watch and your guns are missing. Possibly in the vehicle somewhere. As you think of a way to get out of this mess, you notice the man is talking on the phone.

“I took a big risk snatching prey from the Nest. The reward needs to be better than that.” You try to look and see what the man looks like but he's wearing a black cap and a mask over his mouth, though you can at least see his hair. It's not white so he's not the man you're looking for.

You begin struggling with the binding on your arms, trying your best to make them even a little bit more loose.

“You sure this is right? I've driven down this same road three times. I'm not going anywhere.” You hear the man sigh before the van makes a noise. “Just my luck. The car broke down all the way out here..” He angrily opens his door to step outside before he opens the back of the van. “Get out. We'll wait here.” He grabs you by your restraints and pulls you out of the van. You take the chance to look around at your surroundings hoping to see anything familiar but it's dark out.

He all but throws you to the ground on your already injured knees and you hold back a hiss between your teeth. “Not a soul to be seen..Just an abandoned yard. Hurry up and send someone over.” The man was still on the phone.

You notice dead trees, a metal fence that seems to have been broken before, large boulders and rocks. This place seems more like a graveyard than anything. Your gaze turns to a dirty cobblestone structure nearby, you assume it used to be white but its more of a cream or light tan colour now.

“You're wide awake, huh. Guess you're a tough gal but I'm warning you, don't try any trick on me. You hear? I'm not against hurting a woman.” The man scoffs, clicking his tongue as he brandishes a pocket knife and taps it against his palm. “So you're just a middleman. Are you working for people in the N109 Zone?” You ask with a raised brow, putting on a tough act.

“Shut up. Let me inspect the goods before I hand you over.” His voice was cold as he points the knife at you. “Where did you hide the aether core?” You can't help the laugh that bubbles from your lips, finding it amusing that he's looking for something intangible. He'd have to cut it out if he really wanted to 'inspect the goods'. Though before you can say anything else, you hear another voice.

“Kidnapping Onychinus’ prey without letting us know..Wow, that's not exactly polite now, is it?” The disembodied voice sounded amused and taunting.

“Who's there?” Your masked kidnapper quickly pulls you to your feet, holding the pocket knife to your throat as he looks around. Seems like he's panicking. But Onychinus? Hmm…so it seems like they weren't the ones who kidnapped you.

“She's ours, by the way. We called dibs a long time ago.” and then, seemingly out of nowhere, the man's hand gets cut.

You flinch and the man drops you from the sudden pain in his hand. You fall to the ground once more, scowling at the pain in your legs before sitting down on the ground so as to not hurt your bloodied knees anymore. Maybe a skirt was a bad idea… You turn back to look over at your kidnapper who was now on the ground as well, holding his arm.

Your eyes widen as you notice two masked men appearing from red and black smoke. “I'm really curious..She's brave enough to drink from a black glass.” One of the newcomers twirls a knife around in his hand before resting his foot on your kidnapper's back. The other man starts walking toward you. “I wonder what will she do when backed into a corner?”

The masked man kicks your kidnapper to the side, taking a few steps toward you and that's when you notice they're both wearing a full black mask with a hooked beak. You can't see their eyes or anything. They have their hood up and it seems like there's tiny red horns on the top of the hood. “You're pretty bold for releasing information about the aether core in the Nest like that.” The one with a piercing through his left horn says and the other, who has one through his right, leans his whole upper body to the side. “Explains why boss is interested.”

“I see…So Sylus sent you.” The man on the ground laughs as he rises up to his knees. “But the aether core….is mine!” He suddenly pulls out a gun from behind his back and aims it directly at you before shooting.

The smell of gunpowder fills the air as you flinch back with your eyes closed. Though, you don't feel any pain. Instead, when you open your eyes, you see the man covered in a dark crimson and black mist. His actions constricted and the bullet, so close to your face, wrapped in the same mist before it disintegrated the bullet as if it were never there. The fog wraps around the man's hand, causing him to drop his gun before it swells up around him, wrapping around his neck and lifting him into the air. The mist swirls around him, almost seeming like it's working its way through his body until the man…explodes. Or at least that's what you think.

You see no blood, only the smoke slowly falling down toward the ground as if it's job is done. Then you notice that the two men in crow masks are walking away. It seems their part is done so that must mean…your gaze is brought back to the cobblestone structure, there's now a person standing on top of it with their thumb looped through their belt loop. The sound of a large bell chiming in front of a seemingly red moon.

You now realize your binds are undone, you could leave at any time but you're paralyzed with fear. You haven't been sure what to expect for awhile now and you honestly thought you'd be happy to see Sylus for the first time but, in fact, it's actually terrifying.

A crow caws, flying through the sky until landing on his shoulder as the man on top of the wall reabsorbs his energy with a stretched out hand. He then steps toward the edge of the wall and disappears in a swirl of that same coloured mist before appearing a few steps in front of you.

“Take out the vermin that are still running amok.” The white haired man says, his voice a deep timber that you'd usually be freaking out over but right now you're freaking out for an entirely different reason. The men in the crow masks echo a ‘yes sir’ as Sylus slowly walks up to you. Once he's in front of you, he tilts his head to the side with a scoff.

“You're…also here for the core, right?” You manage to say, trying your best not to look at him because he's hot, but also scary. He crouches down, leaning a bit forward as he says, “Even if you wanted to sell your soul, you still have to find someone who can pay the price.”

He reaches down to grab your chin, lifting your head to look at him. “Look at me.” His voice void of any emotion, even though his facial expression was rather soft. “You-” you flinch as his right eye begins to glow. Voices that you feel like shouldn't be here begin chanting in your head. “Devour him..” They echo. "Take the power.”

Your head begins to pound as blood rushes to it. You suddenly look down and your hands are bloody. “Take it…” “Just…kill him.” You want to hit your head, you want to tell yourself this isn't real because you know it isn't. You're confused and your head hurts and you try to look away from him, realizing something is wrong with his eye.

Your hand darts out to grab the dropped pocket knife and you find yourself cutting Sylus’ cheek, the black and red energy holding your wrist in place so you can't cause anymore damage.

He chuckles, amused by your actions. “Is this how you greet a new friend?” He swipes his thumb across his cheek, the wound disappearing as if it were never there. “I guess you don't remember anything.” He says as he brings his hand up to brush his knuckles against your cheek. “Allow me to jog your memory.” His hand goes further down before wrapping around your throat. That's when you begin to panic, grabbing his wrist with your free hand. “Let go of me.” But your attempts are weak at best.

With his hand around your throat, he makes you look back into his eyes. “From your past to your future…to even all of the crimes you'll inevitably commit. After all, you and I… were the same. True kindred spirits.”

You've must've blacked out because the next time you come to you're on the ground. “Three days. Yet we're unable to achieve even a simple resonance. How disappointing.” You hear Sylus before you see him. Three days? How come you don't remember any of that? You wince and turn your head to look in his direction, noticing that he's sitting with his legs crossed on a plush red chair. It almost looks like a throne.

With a wave of his finger, his evol wraps around you and pulls you toward him. “What do you want?” You ask, exasperated and you're almost to the point of giving up. Especially when you don't know what'll happen next or even what path is the safe one. You tug at the energy wrapped around you but your hands go through it like smoke until you find yourself in Sylus’ lap. Now any other time, you'd be throwing a party about being in a hot man's lap but right now? You're not sure how to feel.

“You went through all that trouble to enter the N109 Zone. I must fulfill my duty as your host.” He says before he uses his evol to lift your arm up, his fingers dancing along the soft skin of your wrist before making their way to your tightly closed hand. His index finger trying to wiggle its way under your fingers before he adds a bit more pressure, using his evol to pry your hand open. His palm pressing flat against yours before he intertwines your fingers and pulls your connected hands to his chest. His eyes closing as he tries to force the resonance. “Stop-” you try to pull your hand away but his energy evol keeps your hand and your body where he wants it.

The voice in your head coming back to rear its ugly head. “Devour him…He's yours..” You get that, you get that he's hot and all, but do you really need to devour him? It's not like he's yours either- “He's right there..before your very eyes.” Damn okay voice, chill. Thirsty much? “His..” “eye..” the voice is cutting in and out, you can only hear a tad bit of what it's saying until the energy dissipates with a tiny flash of light. The resonance worked?

Sylus scoffs, looking at the light dancing across his hand, “It's a shame your evol has deteriorated into its current state.” You take a deep breath, trying to steel yourself and you throw some bait out. “My family's deaths…You're behind them, right?” If he's a love interest, you know there's no way he is but you have to, at least, act that way to find answers. “Family?” Sylus chuckles to himself, “The people closest to you might be the ones who want to kill you the most.” Your brows furrow at that. Huh, that was a theory you never thought about. But who?

Wait, act angry. Right…uh say something, anything. “Shut up! Right now, I just…I just..” your head begins hurting again, “I just want to kill you myself!”

What? That's not what was meant by “say anything” but alright.

You flinch as soon as the words leave your mouth. You didn't mean to say that, did you? Though as you're unable to control your actions, Sylus catches your hand. “Do you think your evol will help you in a fight against me? Your courage is admirable.” He pushes your hand away with an unamused expression. “You're lucky I don't like picking on the weak, kitten.”

…what?

Before you have any time to dwell on what he just called you, he holds his hand out and uses his energy to pull something toward him. One of your guns lands in his hand. “What're you doing?” You ask, a bit nervous at the firearm held firmly in his grasp. He makes sure it's loaded, cocks it, and then holds the gun out to you. “Didn't you want my life? Or do your words just ring hollow?”

Ah shit, here come the voices again. “Kill him.” Wait, the voices didn't want you to fu- Nevermind that, you really don't want to grab the gun but it's out of your control. Your hand moves on its own, taking a hold of the gun and even your mouth moves on its own. “You think I won't do it?” You hold the gun up to his head, internally screaming and pleading to not let this happen because it would be a shame if you were the one to kill such a handsome man. “Now…that's much better. Though, you do owe me a curtain call grander than death itself,” Sylus muses, wrapping his fingers around the muzzle of your pistol as he slowly brings it lower and presses it against his chest as your hands shake.

“I..” “Why're you trembling? Has your resolve already begun to falter? You weren't just bluffing, were you?” He tilts his head to the side and you honestly want to yell at him and ask if he's crazy or thinks he has nine lives or something but you can't since whatever mysterious power you have inside of you is still controlling your movements. “No, of course not. It's just..” you trail off and he slowly moves his hand down to wrap around both of yours on the gun. “Want some help? Yes? No? Maybe so?”

He's so hot, he's so-

Bam.

You…you shot him? You actually shot him? Are you sure you won't regret this later? That's actually like crazy that you shot him just now. Well- it's not like you had any part in it. You couldn't control your actions to begin with..

Darkness.

Darkness is all you see. You felt so…hungry. So empty. Anything would be great to fill this emptiness you felt inside.

“Devour him..” Shit the voices were back. “Its…your power.” It was probably Sylus’ power, but pop off voice.

You weren't sure how long you had to endure the voices but they finally went silent. Leaving you in the dark, alone. It almost…felt cold.

The ending is a bit abrupt, so I'm going to apologize up front for that- I honestly didn't realize just how cut it was since it lines up pretty well with the next chapter. You'll have to wait to see that next week though, unless I end up feeling excited enough to post chapter nine early! 🤔 Either way, I hope you liked the comedic turn I took with the second half of the chapter. It was too good to pass up. Also, I tried something different with the paragraphs. I added double spaces between specific, important ones and just the standard singular with everything else. Let me know which you like between (between chapters 6-8 and I'll start doing them like that in the future!)

Anyway, if there's any spelling errors and stuff like that, then that's on me. I've re-read all of these chapters so many times and re-worked so much of it, but I'm bound to miss some errors so hopefully it's not too bad!

Taglist; @orphicmeliora

[musings-of-a-rose]

Jump Then Fall - Chapter 4

Pairing: Javier Peña x ofc “Vanessa Morales”

Word Count: 5000

Rating: M for mature - 18+ only!

Warnings: Please be aware there is an 11 year age gap. Mature themes and some canon mentioned. Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story.

Notes: Well, we've finally reached the end! I'm so sorry this took forever to get out. I really do love these 2 and would welcome any asks about them! When the story starts, Vanessa is 19 and Javier is 30 but in this part, Javier is 36 and Vanessa is 25.

**Shoutout to @vanemando15 for listening and bouncing ideas from me, and for her guidance with being a Latina herself. Without her, this wouldn’t even be a thing, just another line on my WIP spreadsheet. And also to my husband, who is also Latino and answered any questions I had (along with taking me to Colombia back in 2014). And to @wyn-n-tonic, who listened to my rambles and insecurities about writing an oc in first person.

**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!

--If you like this, please let the algorithm know by reblogging! This way it can be shared with multiple people (it's how it works here. I don't make the rules!)

❤If you enjoy the fic, please consider giving me a warm beverage! (It is not required in any way!)

Jump Then Fall Masterlist

General Masterlist

Javier Peña Masterlist

<<Chapter 3<<

I don't see him until lunch the next day as he and Chucho had run into town for a few things. They both come in with some grocery bags and set them on the counter.

"They were out of broccoli so I got green beans. Will that work?" Chucho asks as he hands me a bag of fresh cut green beans.

I take them with a smirk. "Why do I get the feeling they weren't out and you just didn't want to eat the broccoli?"

"She's got you there, pops." Javier chuckles as Chucho punches his arm.

"Pendejo."

"Alright, alright. Get cleaned up and I'll make you both some lunch. Extra broccoli for you, old man."

Chucho hides a smile, grumbling as he heads upstairs to his bathroom. Javier stays in the kitchen with me, helping to unload the bags.

"New relaxation thing?" I raise my eyebrows at him.

"What?"

I gesture towards his mouth. "The chewing gum."

"Oh. Nope. Giving up the other one. I'm trying the Nicorette thing."

I close the refrigerator door and look at him. "Really?"

He shrugs. "It's a nasty habit, or so I'm told."

I turn away from him quickly, trying to hide the warmth creeping up at face at his use of my words.

"Well that person must be very smart to say that."

"I think so."

-------

I don't find the time to tell him the next day. Or the next. Or the next. Despite having a lot of chances to. Javier always finds his way to me around the house, chatting and asking me questions. I try to ask him some too, but his eyes grow dark and distant and he shuts in on himself, no doubt recalling the horrors of his time pursuing Escobar. I stop asking.

"Vanessa! We have to go or we'll be late to Danny's wedding!" Chucho yells up the stairs at me, just as I'm putting on my mascara.

"I'll be right down!" I take one last look at myself in the mirror, smoothing down my dress. It was bold, for me anyway. Spaghetti straps and a form fitting dress that stops just above my knee, a lacy slip over top of it all that's long sleeved. It's a dark green color, always one of my favorites. I'm not sure it's entirely wedding appropriate, but it's the only thing that I liked that fit me decent enough. My hair is down and loosely curled and I turn my head back and forth to make sure the bounce had stayed.

I grab my clutch and head downstairs. Chucho stands at the foot of the stairs, smiling at me.

"You look beautiful, Vanessa."

"You're just saying that so I won't make broccoli next week."

He chuckles and gives me a hug. "You caught me. Oh, when's Alex back?"

"Next week."

"Pops, we have to get going or we'll..." Javier comes walking back inside the front door, red flannel shirt tucked into tight jeans that hug his body in all the right ways. He stares at me, his eyes moving up and down my body until Chucho elbows him in the stomach.

"Fuck! You uh..you look uh nice, Vanessa."

"Nice?" Chucho says, chuckling in disbelief. "I thought you knew how to talk to women." He heads out the door, leaving Javier and I standing in the entry.

"You look really..handsome." I manage to choke out at Javier. "Now come on. Your dad will kill us if we're late."

I move to hop in the truck and then realize the stick shift will need to be right between my legs if I wanted to ride in the front.

"I'll get in the back," Javier speaks into my ear.

"No you won't. The bed is dirty and I will not have my son walking into church covered in-"

Javier puts his hands up. "Ok, ok. We'll figure it out."

I get in, taking Javier's offered hand to help me up into the cab. I slide across the bench, looking down at the gear shift as Javier slides in next to me. I try to move my legs but there's nowhere for them to move to.

"Tuck them next to my leg." I look up at Javier, the closest I've been to him since that night.

"Are you s-sure?"

"Yeah. I won't bite." I swear he mumbles "Unless you want me to" under his breath but maybe I'm projecting.

We make it to the church on time. Well, early actually as Chucho wanted "a good seat." We get out of the truck and to my surprise, Javier offers me his arm again. I take it, using him to help me out of the cab, smoothing down my dress when I finally plant my feet on the ground. But he doesn't let go, doesn't drop my arm, letting me choose if I wanted to hold onto him or not. I link my arm further in his, noting the small smile he's fighting to contain on his face.

I am very glad I chose to hold onto him. Not just because his touch is electrifying my body, but because the ground in the dirt parking lot is very uneven, the last rainstorm having put in several large potholes and what feels like millions of smaller ones. Javier saved me from falling right in the mud more than a few times. When we finally make it to the pavement, he still doesn't drop my arm, looking down at me with raised eyebrows, silently asking me what I'd like to do.

"Oh no. I'm attached now. If you let me go, I'll fall on my butt I know it."

He chuckles and covers my hand with his large one, engulfing mine. "I got you, baby."

We say our hello's to everyone as we enter and I feel Javier tense next to me at the amount of attention he's starting to receive. Many people wanting to shake his hand and tell them how proud they are of him, that he's a hero. He smiles, although it doesn't reach his eyes, and thanks them, shaking their hands with his free one. This happens several times on our way to the pew Chucho wanted and after the third time, I place my free hand over his, giving it a light squeeze. I can feel him relax into me slightly as the man in front of us thanks him yet again. But as the next person approaches, I cut them off.

"Juan, it's so nice to see you, but we need to sit. These shoes weren't made for real feet," I chuckle and nod my head towards my feet. "I swear if Javier weren't escorting me I'd be taking these things off or fallen on my rear end by now."

"Oh! Yeah go sit. See you later, Javs!"

We finally make it to our row and Javier gestures for me to go ahead. I make my way in, sitting down as Javier slides in next to me.

"Hey, thanks." He speaks quietly so only I can hear him.

"Yeah of course. Anytime."

Shortly after, the ceremony starts and Javier places his arm across the pew behind me and I will myself to not blush and just pretend like I'm focusing on the sermon, the priest now saying something about love and devotion in marriage or..something. I have no clue as I feel Javier stretch a little and slide a little closer to me in the pew, our hips almost touching.

The reception was beautiful, music starting up a bit later while everyone was eating. We finish eating and Javier turns to me, mischief in his eyes.

"Dance with me?" His hand is outstretched towards me and I take it without hesitation.

"Do you know how?" I ask as he pulls me to my feet.

"Do you?"

"Fair question."

He escorts me onto the dance floor, placing his hand confidently on my hip, the other taking my hand. The music starts and he spins us around, our feet moving together to the beat. His eyes are on me and mine on his, the air between us igniting with something that we felt 6 years ago.

That realization jolts me back to the present and I move my head next to his, looking over his shoulder. I really need to tell him. I catch sight of a blonde woman, about Javier's age, giving me a really nasty look. But then the songs ends and Javier pulls back.

"Thirsty?"

"Yeah."

We head back to the table and sit, several more people coming up to shake Javier's hand and tell him how proud they were, that he's a hero, all of it. I can see that far away look in his eyes, like he's here but not here. His eyes lock on something across the room and he leans towards Chucho and me.

"I'll be right back."

I watch him walk across the room towards the blonde woman who had given me such a nasty look earlier.

"Who is that?" I lean over to Chucho, nodding towards them. He glances up before looking back down at his plate of food.

"Lorraine. His ex."

"Oh. They serious?"

He takes a bite of his food and chews. "They were. But that was maybe 10 years ago?"

"Hhm.. how serious?"

"Well, they were going to get married."

"Oh."

Chucho looks at me and leans in. "He left her though. The day of."

"The day of...the wedding??"

"Not one of his best moments. But he was young and scared. And stupid."

I look over at them, a man now walking up to them and putting his arm around Lorraine.

"Well she seems to have done alright."

"Yeah. Married some banker or real estate guy or something. Seems happy. Couple of kids."

"Should you have told me this?"

Chucho gestures around at the room. "Everyone here was there that day. They all know. It's not a secret."

I nod, turning to look back at them when I see Javier turn, his hand doing that thing where it opens and closes, his bottom lip worrying slightly into his teeth. He stops a few steps away from Lorraine and looks back, watching as she picks up her kids and animatedly talks to them. When he turns back around, his face is full of regret and want, but I don't know if it's about her or the kids, his almost family. He walks through the room and out the back door.

"I'll be right back."

I get up and cross the room, heading out the door Javier did. I look around and see him sitting on a bench under a tree several feet out from the reception room. He pulls out some gum from his pocket and stuffs it in his mouth, his jaw chewing furiously. I walk up to him and he looks up at me, his eyes sad.

"Can I sit?" I ask, gesturing to the space next to him on the bench. He nods at the space, leaning back to put his arm across the back of the bench behind me.

"Thank you," I say to him after several moments.

He looks at me. "For what?"

"For...everything. I know you must have had to do some things you aren't proud of in order to catch a very bad man. I can't imagine how that must weigh on you, make you feel like you don't deserve praise. But you worked so hard and they took that ending away from you which was, excuse my language, very fucked up of them and you didn't deserve that no matter what you did, and I just....thank you."

His eyes bore into mine, shifting emotions behind them. Anger, regret, fear, disappointment in himself, disbelief, but then something else. Something softer as he focuses on me. His hand comes up to cup my face and I lean into it, loving the feel of his calloused hands on my skin. He leans in towards me, his eyes shifting down to my lips, his breath fanning out over my face.

"Wait. I have to tell you something, Javier."

"Can you tell me after we make out?"

Can I? No. No, Vanessa.

"I really think I need to tell you first."

He pulls back and it looks like it costs him a ton of effort, just like it did me to tell him to stop. He puts his hand on his lap and watches me, waiting for me to continue.

"Do you remember when I told you that Alex's dad had important things to do? And you thought he was giving me a line?"

He nods. "Yeah..."

"What if...what if that were you?"

He furrows his eyebrows together, confused. "If what were me?"

"If you had gone off to Colombia or were going off and you found out you'd gotten some girl pregnant?"

"I would have come home or not gone."

"Yeah, but wouldn't you resent them just a little for robbing you of this opportunity?"

He scoffs. "They would've saved me a lot of shit."

"You know that now. But then?"

He thinks for a moment. "I don't know. I can't say I wouldn't have been disappointed."

"Don't you think your kid would pick up on that?"

"I...I don't know. I didn't consider....Vanessa?"

I swallow down the tears that are fighting to escape my body. "Yeah?"

"How old is Alex?"

I take a deep breath and look him in the eyes. "6."

It takes him a few moments, probably doing the math in his head. But then his eyes widen and he pulls his arm from around me, scooting back a little.

"6?"

"Yeah."

He shifts on the bench. "Is he...who's his dad?"

I can't help the one tear that falls from my eyes. "Y-you are."

He looks at me before abruptly standing, pacing back and forth, his hand on his hip and the other pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I'm his dad? Me? Are you sure?"

"I've only ever been with you."

He scoffs. "It's been 6 years, Vanessa. You haven't fucked anyone in 6 years?" He stops to look at me and sees the truth in my face.

"I've gone on some dates, but nothing ever happened."

"You expect me to believe that?"

"I can only tell you the truth, I can't make you believe it."

He laughs angrily, finally stopping in front of me, glaring down at me.

"Why didn't you fucking tell me?"

"I-"

"Did you not think I deserved to know?"

"I-I-"

"I would have stayed for you! I-"

I stand up and he backs up a couple steps. "That's exactly why!"

"What?"

"You would've hated us if you stayed. You would've resented it. You just said you'd be disappointed. You don't think we wouldn't have picked up on that?"

"You didn't give me a fucking choice, Vanessa! Does he even know me?"

"He doesn't know who you are. I told him you were a superhero, fighting a really bad man in another country. And that you'd come back when he was caught."

Javier hesitates a moment. "You never gave me a choice! I lost all of that time. I lost...FUCK! I can't even look at you!" He turns and walks away, past the parking lot and into the street, heading towards town.

I call after him but it's no use. I collapse onto the bench, my head in my hands, finally letting the tears out that I'd been holding back for so long.

-------

The next morning, I set at the kitchen island, a mug of hot coffee clutched between my cold hands as I wait for Javier. I hear the sounds of someone moving down the stairs and I sit up straighter, but Chucho enters the kitchen. I feel my face fall as he looks at me.

"I know I'm not a looker but-"

"Sorry, Chucho. I was expecting.." my voice trails off and he cocks his head.

"Javi? He left."

I sit bolt upright. "Left?"

Chucho pours himself a mug of coffee. "Yeah for Cali. Didn't he tell you? He was going to tell you last night that he was heading back. It was sort of a secret but I told him you'd probably notice if you were no longer sharing a bathroom."

I feel the blood drain from my face. "He's gone?"

Chucho turns, mug in hand and scans my face. "Yeah. I thought he told you? When neither of you returned to the reception, I assumed...well, I thought he'd tell you before he..."

Tears fall wet and hard from my already puffy face. Chucho looks alarmed but sets his mug down and pulls me to him, letting me soak his shirt as he makes calming sounds at me.

"I told him, Chucho. I told him about Alex," My speech is muffled but he hears it all the same.

"What happened?"

I tell him the entire conversation, how Javier just stormed off and how I expected to see him this morning, to apologize and tell him he doesn't have to be involved, that I can move out to make it easier. Chucho waves me off with that last one. "I would never make you move out. Javi doesn't cook nearly as good as you."

I give him a small smile, my shoulders still shaking from sobbing.

"Listen, Vanessa. I won't give you a lecture. You know my opnion and it's no use retelling you. But he knows now. Javier tends to run from things."

"So we're his latest Lorraine?"

Chucho cocks his head, thinking. "I doubt that very much. You're not Lorraine. He looks at you differently."

"Looked. I doubt he'll even want to see me again."

"Mm...let's just give him space, ok?"

"But what if he's down there another 6 years?"

"Something tells me it won't take him that long to think about things."

-------

Javier

It had been a month since Vanessa told him he has a kid. That he has a 6 year old son he knew nothing about, knew nothing about him. Except that he's a hero. Which is a lie.

The Cali Cartel had another 5 months before they would be "turning themselves in", which was a big joke. He had to catch them before the time was up so they could face actual justice and not this fake, bureaucratic bullshit.

He's tried to resort back to his old ways of dealing, burying himself in a woman. But when he tried to, he couldn't bring himself to do anything, let alone sleep with them. It was everything he could do to not pick up a cigarette, but his patience was wearing thin.

He tried not to think about Vanessa and her confession. But when the work day was over, and he went back to his penthouse the government provided, his brain would play that conversation over and over in his head. At first, he continued to remain livid, that she had denied him the choice of knowing his family, being with his kid. But then his dad's words echoed in his mind, the call coming the day he landed in Cali.

"That girl has been through hell, Javi. Don't be the asshole you claimed you wouldn't be."

"She didn't tell me I had a kid, dad. A kid! Who does that?"

"She was only thinking about you! This whole time, she was worried about your wellbeing. She didn't want you distracted or resentful, even if it cost her everything."

"What did it cost her?"

"Her parents! Her family, friends, her church. Ours welcomed her with open arms only because I was there to vouch for her. She was shunned from her entire life and still only worried about you. Don't be such a stubborn asshole."

He thought about Vanessa, so young and pregnant, trying to figure out how to tell her strict parents she was expecting despite not being married. Them kicking her out, closing her off from all of her friends and family, anyone who would support her. Her finding the strength and will to drive all the way back to Loredo to try and find him and discovering he would be away for an indefinite amount of time. What would he do in that situation? Run away from it, probably. Which she didn't have the option of doing.

He takes a swig of his drink, the ice cubes clunking against his top lip. He wants to meet his kid, Alex. Wants to tell him that the bad guy was caught and that he's back. Would he be back? It's probably good Alex doesn't know who he is, in case something happens to him here. But if he gets to go home, he knows he wants to be in his life.

What about Vanessa? Will she let him in their lives? Javier is pretty sure she will, even with the way he left. But what about her? If he's honest with himself, truly honest, when he looks past the anger, he sees her big eyes, the freckles on her cheeks, the sass she gives him in her quiet manner. And he thinks, no. He knows. He knows he loves her. He thinks she loves him. If she didn't, surely she would've told him long ago, not caring about his well being. But she had been so adamant about not telling him, wanting him to be safe.

He crosses his arms, pinching the bridge of his nose. Fuck, what was he doing? Granted he signed up to go back to Cali when they called him in, assuming that if he didn't they would throw him in prison. But honestly, he was ready to come back and actually be here when they get the bad guys. But then Vanessa came back into his life and now a kid.

Fuck, he's an idiot.

-------

Vanessa

6 months. It had been 6 months since Javier stormed out and ran away to Cali. Ok, run away was harsh as he went there for work, agreeing to it long before he knew I was here. But he hadn't called and I took that as a sign, no matter how many times Chucho said it doesn't mean anything because he doesn't call him either. He gets too caught up in his work.

It's the start of summer, the windows are open to get a cross breeze coming through the house. I do miss the ac back home, but I'll take Chucho's home over the one I grew up in any day, heat or no.

Alex got a new book and I hadn't seen him for a couple hours as he's spent them in his room, devouring the latest in his series. He did come out once, nose buried in the book, to ask me for a snack.

I finish washing his cup, setting it on the rack to dry. I stare out the little window over the sink, watching Chucho putter about between the barn and the shed, thinking about the animals and how hot it's going to get out there. I know they're used to it, but still. I'' have to get some extra ice trays at the store so I can throw some more in their water troughs. Chucho says that's why they all like me so much.

Suddenly, I hear heavy steps on the wood floor behind me, much heavier than Alex's. I spin, my hand gripping the cast iron pan that was sitting there. But when I fully turn, I nearly drop the pan.

Javier is there, standing in front of me, his chest heaving, a small bead of sweat sliding down his neck and onto his chest, which is slightly exposed by his several undone buttons in his lavender purple, button up shirt.

"Javier, I-"

"Sshh. I'm sorry."

"What?"

He takes a few steps towards me. "I never should have just left. I at least should've told you about Cali."

"No. I'm sorry. I should've told-"

He's only a couple steps from me now. "No, it's ok. I understand. You were thinking about your family. About how it would affect even me. you did what you had to do."

This was not what I expected. He reaches for the pan, still clutched in my hand. He takes it and sets it on the counter behind me, leaning close to me. He looks down at me, his hand coming up to cup my cheek and I inhale sharply at the sensation.

"You're so brave and I'm a fucking idiot."

"You have every right-"

He pulls me to him, gently pressing his lips to mine, giving me time and space to stop him. But what he doesn't know is his touch has sent me spiraling, spinning away into the sky. And when his tongue slides into my mouth, my body trembles slightly, my hand coming up to mindlessly grab onto his arm. But then he pulls back, staring into my eyes.

"I'm in love with you."

My stomach lurches, a thousand butterflies being released in my body at his words. Love? He loves me? I never thought I'd hear those words from anyone, let alone the man I've loved since I was 19. The reason none of my dates every worked out.

"And it's ok if you don't-"

"I love you too."

He smiles, a real smile that lights up even his eyes, both of his hands now cupping my face. "Really?"

"Why do you think none of those dates ever worked out? It was always you, Javi."

He kisses me more passionately now, his hand leaving my face to grip my hip, pulling me against him. I feel him through his tight jeans, pressing into me and I groan a little in his mouth.

"Fuck, you're so intoxicating. It was killing me not to kiss you."

"Mmm." Is all I can manage to say. But then I remember we're not alone, not this time.

"Do you want to meet him?"

Javier pulls his face back from mine. "He's here?"

I nod. "Yeah. Reading, upstairs."

He shifts, tugging on his pants. "Hell yeah I want to meet him. But uh, give me a sec?"

I glance down and chuckle. "Maybe I can help you with that later?"

He groans. "You aren't helping any now."

He turns and walks out the back door and I see him say hi to his dad, embracing him. Chucho watches him for a moment and then a smile appears and he claps him on the shoulder. I can only assume he's telling him he's going to meet Alex. Javier comes back inside, taking a deep breath.

"Ok, I think I'm ready."

"Alex! Can you come downstairs for a minute?"

Small feet patter across the floor upstairs and make their way down, Alex appearing in the kitchen a moment later, his book still propped open in his hand.

"Mom, I was at a really good part!"

"Alex, I have someone I want you to meet."

"Can it wait?"

I kneel down to get on his level, his eyes, so like Javier's, staring back at me, sensing the seriousness.

"Alex, meet your dad, Javier."

Slowly he turns, looking up at Javier who waves at him awkwardly. "Hey, kiddo. I uh, got the bad guy. I'm sorry it took me so long."

Alex continues to stare at him for a moment. Then he throws his precious book to the floor, running full out towards Javier, who throws his arms out at the last minute as Alex leaps into them, nearly knocking him over.

"Dad? It's really you?"

"It really is."

Alex clutches onto him, tears in both of their eyes. "I always dreamed of meeting you! This is the best day of my life!"

Javier hugs him tight, fighting back the tears that are quickly gathering in his eyes. "This is the best day of my life too, son."

-------

2 years later...

I load up the old tractor with a couple of picnic baskets, 4 large thermos full of homemade lemonade next to them. I close the back and carefully hop up, driving slowly across the property, a smile on my face. After a while, I pull up to the 3 men in my life: Chucho trying to carry wood by himself, Javi yelling at him as he runs to help him, and Alex, hammering away at a spare piece of wood. They were at the back end of the property repairing a downed section of fence. Javier sees me pull up and he rushes over, offering me his hand to help me down.

"I wish you hadn't driven this thing."

"Well if I walked, it would've been dinner by the time I brought your lunch."

"Mom! Watch me!" Alex starts hammering on a piece of wood Chucho had laid in the ground, Javier moving to help him pound it in further.

"My strong man!"

"Son, gather up the tools and put them in the box. We're taking a break for lunch."

Alex starts to look around for the tools as Javier turns back to me. He wraps his arm around me and leans in to kiss me, sliding his tongue over my bottom lip.

"Now now none of that. That made this happen," I rest my hand on my enlarged belly as Javier leans down, planting a kiss to my stomach before standing back up. He leans close to my ear.

"I plan on putting as many kids in you as you'll let me."

I slap his chest, but the thought warms me. "Let's just see how these 2 go first, yeah?"

He smiles at me, kissing me again before lifting Alex into the back of the trailer, helping me to set up the picnic lunches I had made for all of them. As we stare out at the river, a boat comes through, obviously carrying illegal items, most likely drugs. Javier stiffens, but then looks around at us.

"I'm done. I've done all I can. Now I just want to spend my life with my family."

-------

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[angelasscribbles]

What Happened in Vegas

Series: None, this is a one-shot and you can find those here.

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairing: Riley x Liam x Drake

Rating: MA

Warnings for this chapter: mature themes I guess

Word Count: 1,796

A/N: Credit/blame goes to @aussiegurl1234 for putting this in my head with the simple statement that the Vegas fling should have been a threesome. To be clear: There is no smut here, this isn't set in Vegas, but rather the aftermath and results of what happened.

My other stuff: Master List.

Liam's head guard entered the council chambers to whisper in the king's ear. "Sorry to interrupt, but the Duchess of Valtoria is asking to see you. She says it's important."

Riley was on the short list of people that had unrestricted access to him at all times. "Thank you, Alec." He nodded to dismiss the guard, then turned back to the council members. "Are we about done here?"

"Well, there was one last item—" The Earl of Dunwick pointed to the line item on the agenda about a proposed construction project and a lake full of some protected fish.

"Anything that can't wait until next week?"

"Well…. The project management company has been waiting for an answer for six months already…"

"So, what's one more week?" Liam grinned. "Meeting adjourned!"

The king of Cordonia damn near skipped through the halls to the private sitting room where the woman who made his heart beat was waiting.

His smile faltered when he found Drake waiting with her.

He had hoped Riley was there to spend some quality time with him. He didn't see her near as often as he would have preferred. Ever since the advent of her marriage to his best friend, their trysts had diminished. Not ended mind you, but it wasn't like it had been during the social season when they had been sneaking off every chance they got to the hedge maze, the rooftop, or an empty guest room.

Then the coronation debacle had happened and everything had gone sidewise.

He had hoped to be able to repair their relationship during the engagement tour and he had, to some extent.

Riley had told him up front when she started sleeping with Drake, but somehow, every time she reminded him of her new relationship, the two of them ended up in bed together. "I'm with Drake now, remember?" Always ended with her screaming his name.

Pushing his disappointment aside, he embraced and kissed her on the lips before turning to acknowledge Drake's presence. Greetings were exchanged, then he directed his attention back to Riley. "Not that I'm complaining, in any way, I am always happy to see you, but why are you here?"

Riley cut straight to the chase. "I think I'm pregnant. My period is late, and I can't remember if I had it last month or not." Life had been busy since assuming the mantle of Duchess and starting married life with Drake.

Liam did some quick backward math. His eyebrows shot up as he looked from her to Drake and back again. "Vegas?"

"Vegas," she nodded.

"So…whose is it?"

Riley threw her arms up in the air. "I don't know. Does it matter?"

"Of course it fucking matters, Riley!"

"Not to me it doesn't," Drake broke in. He moved closer so he could wrap both arms around his wife. Nuzzling into the side of her neck, he told her, "I love you either way."

"I didn't say I wouldn't still love her!" Liam exploded. "Don't put words in my mouth!"

"Oh, calm down," Riley admonished. "I don't even know if I'm pregnant yet. I thought you should both be here when I take the test, given that there's no way to know which one of you knocked me up."

Liam took a deep breath and tugged at his tie as mentally collected himself. An out of wedlock heir to the throne would be a scandal of epic proportions, but the thought was not entirely unwelcomed. "Right. Thank you for that. If this child is mine, I want to be involved every step of the way."

Riley gave him an affectionate smile. "See? I knew that, and that's why we're here, Right, babe?"

"Right." Drake released her and stepped back. "Are we sure it happened in Vegas? Because if it happened on our wedding night or during the honeymoon—"

"Or in the weeks leading up to the wedding?" Liam interjected. He had spent quite a bit of time helping the new duchess settle into her role. He had also helped her out of her clothes more often than not after a long day of diplomatic lessons.

Riley waved him off. "I had a period just before Vegas, that I remember. So if the baby is yours, it almost had to have happened in Vegas. After all, you were both inside me that night. When you weren't inside each other, that is." Her hand went to her mouth to stifle a giggle.

Drake's eyes met Liam's over the top of her head. Both men froze for a second as both faces flushed red, then both sets of eyes dropped quickly to the floor.

The night in Vegas had been wild, but they had never discussed it after the fact. Liam was out as bisexual, but it had been Drake's first and only experience with a man.

Drake was well aware of his wife's extracurricular activities with his best friend. He had no issues with it. In fact, images of Liam and Riley together fueled more of his fantasies than he liked to admit.

"Okay, I'm going to pee on this stick now!" She brandished it in front of them like a kid with a magic wand before disappearing into the attached bathroom.

The men made awkward small talk as they waited, both of them breathing out a sigh of relief when she returned, alleviating the danger of them having to address the elephant in the room, at least for the moment.

"Now we wait," she chirped. "Could one of you set a timer for two minutes?"

Liam had his phone out first. "Done!"

It was the longest two minutes of his life. He paced the floor, deep in thought as Riley and Drake sat on the settee, making plans for the weekend, laughing and touching each other frequently.

The timer dinged and all three heads snapped up. Three sets of eyes flitted from one person to the other to the bathroom door.

Riley stood and went to retrieve the answer to their question. She returned from the bathroom to both men's gazes locked on her with anticipation.

"The moment of truth…" she glanced down at the stick in her hand, feeling disappointment wash through her in place of the relief she had expected to feel. "It's negative. I'm not pregnant."

Drake's brows furrowed as he moved closer to her. "Are you okay? I thought that's the result you wanted, but you look sad."

Liam backed away from them. "I… just need a moment to process…"

He resumed his pacing as he grappled with an onslaught of mixed emotions.

No scandal, no awkward questions, no figuring out how to juggle schedules between three adults and two homes… but also no heir, no biological tie to the woman he loved, and no relief from the unrelenting pressure to marry and produce offspring. He stopped pacing and spun to face Drake. "Did you mean what you said earlier?"

"What did I say earlier?"

"That you didn't care whose baby it was."

"Right. Yeah…." Drake's eyes tracked from Liam to Riley and back again. "Why? There is no baby—"

"What if there were?"

Drake blinked. "What do you mean?"

"I mean…." He crossed the room quickly and took Riley's hands in his. "Have a baby with me, Riley! On purpose!"

Giddiness bubbled up inside of her at the prospect. But he couldn't be serious, could he? "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"Do you want to see me married to someone else?"

Riley's gaze slid to Drake as she considered if her answer would hurt him. But they had promised each other unrelenting honesty, no matter what. She returned her attention to Liam and shook her head.

"Then give me an heir so I don't have to marry…. Anyone, ever!"

"Is that even a thing that we can do?"

"Yes! It's not totally without precedence. I simply have to acknowledge the child and publicly legitimize him or her. Which I will!" He dropped down on one knee. "I know you're already married, but consider this an official proposal to be my royal consort. Openly. Move back to the palace. Take your rightful place by my side!"

Drake's throat cleared. "Um… hello? What are you doing?"

"Sorry!" Liam scrambled to his feet. "I may have gotten carried away there, but I'm serious. Do you honestly like living in Valtoria?"

"Not really," Drake admitted, "But I'd live in Antarctica if that's where my wife was."

"Then you're open to moving back home?"

A spark of jealousy flared through him, followed almost immediately by a pang of longing.

There was no doubt that he was in love with his wife. Helplessly, hopelessly, head over heels in love with her. But the night in Vegas had opened a door he had been avoiding peaking behind for his entire life, leaving him questioning the nature of his feelings for his best friend.

His mouth opened, closed, then opened again. "I… what exactly are you proposing? That my wife shacks up with you? Where does that leave me?"

"I'm sorry if I wasn't clear. I meant both of you."

Drake's entire body stilled as his mind raced to interpret Liam's meaning. "Both of us…. what?”

Liam shrugged. "Whatever you want, whatever you'll allow. I want you both to move in. We've already agreed to this situation we find ourselves in with Riley. We can continue as we are, with her splitting time between our bedrooms or…"

"Or?" Drake struggled to keep the note of hopefulness out of his voice, sure that everyone in the room could hear the pounding of his heart.

With a smirk, Liam moved closer to him. "Or you and I can continue what we started in Vegas and see where it goes."

Blood rushed to his face, heating his cheeks as he nodded, then looked away.

"Great!" Liam turned back to Riley. "You don't have to answer right now if you're not ready. Take your time and—"

"Yes! I'll do it! We'll move in, I'll be your consort, we can have a baby! As long as Drake is okay with all of it, that is."

"I'm okay with it."

Liam felt a rush of happiness crash over him. "Can you stay tonight? I'd like to start working on that baby right away."

"Oh, I don't know if—"

"It's okay," Drake assured her. "If you want to stay, I can go pack some of our clothes and—"

"Actually," Liam interrupted, "I was hoping you could join us."

Drake's eyes widened, slid down Liam's body, then closed as he drew in a deep, shuddering breath.

The trajectory of his life was about to change. And he couldn't wait to see where it would take him.

[thatanonymouschocolate]

Trapped In An Alley

Rating: Explicit/Mature aka +18 no minors

Summary:

You went to the markets to get restock on some food only for you to get mistaken for being associated with a thief and her very attractive droid friend.

Notes:

Takes place after the game since I never played it :> might try and get it one of these days bc im broke af lol

Also ND is 6'3 and my tall 5'10 ass is here for it

Anyways sorry if it's so short I'm bad at writing, I hope y’all enjoy and that this doesn't fucking suck

You don't know how you got into this mess. Stuck in a small space hiding from some assholes because they thought you were associated with the two thieves that ran into you while you were at the markets. Now you're trapped in a small space between two buildings in an alleyway with the coat wearing Droid that the thief girl was with. “Dammit…” you sighed trying to maintain a decent amount of space between you two. “Don't move.” He says his arm above your head and his leg between yours as he leans a bit closer caging you in between him and the storage containers behind you. There were more footsteps stomping and yelling nearby in the alleyway.

While the droid, ND from what you remember the woman calling him, was worried about getting caught you took a moment to really get a good look at him. The way ND held himself and how even though he wasn't obligated to help you hide, he was kind enough to help (even though it was his and his friends fault) and his voice was nice, really REALLY nice. You felt yourself being somewhat drawn to him. If you had met him under any other situation you probably would’ve tried to get in his pants- er bolts?? While you were observing (ogling) him he started to speak to you but you couldn’t help the noise you made when his leg brushed against your crotch. “Stay still.” His voice deepens as his hands gripping your hips. You mumble a small apology as your thighs clamp down on his leg, the distance between the both of you was closing.

The next thing you knew your pants were sliding off and you felt his cold metal finger explore and caress your plush inner thighs. He moves on to removing your underwear, he spreads your folds and admires the view in front of him. “You're already soaked and I hardly touched you.” his voice almost sounds smug. “A soaping hot mess by a complete stranger in an alleyway way.” if he had a mouth he'd definitely have a shit eating grin on his face. He continues to slide his digits against your entrance whispering all the things he wanted to do with you if he ever had the chance to ravage you properly. All the dirty talk spewing from him had your face feeling like it was on fire, your lip probably bleeding from you biting so hard to prevent you from making noise so you wouldn't get the two of you caught. But when he thrust a finger inside of you were gonna cum “No yet, hold on a little longer I want to enjoy seeing you fall apart.” He spreads your legs a bit more and inserts another finger stretching you out. At this point you have to use both your hands to cover your mouth to prevent you from letting out a sinful moan. “Fuck I can't hold it anymore! I’m gonna!-” you're cut off “Do it! Cum for me.” he says somewhat desperately. You throw your head back as you reach your climax covering his hand in your slick. He then steps back and helps you with your clothes.

“The coast is clear for now. It is best for you to avoid attracting any more attention to yourself for a while. There were more of them than expected.” He double checks to make sure the alley is clear and you both make your way to the main street. “ND!” the woman you saw him with earlier runs up to you. “I was looking all over for you- oh!” she stops when she sees you. ND explains that you got mistaken for one of them and the woman you now know as Kay has insisted that you travel with them for the time being.

“Wait but what about my groceries???” was all you could say as the both of them hurried you into their ship.

[clareguilty]

Possessive!Ghost x Reader | Knife Scars

I just love the idea of this man giving you a scar and then being obsessed with it. But here have some yandere!Ghost who has abandonment issues after one too many betrayals

Rating: Mature | Dubious - possibly non - consent, Knife threats, No explicit smut Word Count: 1400

It was stupid of you to think he wouldn't notice.

Wouldn't notice you slipping off your cot, picking up your boots, sneaking past everyone else fast asleep. Slipping out the back window because the door latch was too loud.

Gaz was on watch, but he was looking for people coming from the outside, not one of his own trying to leave the safety of the base.

You tugged your boots on the second you were outside, wincing at the crunch of gravel beneath the soles as you crept through the dark.

Just when you thought you were in the clear, a knife embedded itself in the wooden crate just inches from your head. 

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?"

Ghost.

You turned, hands raised. His mask reflected the little moonlight that broke through the clouds, and you would have been absolutely terrified if you hadn't fought beside this man for years.

He had a pistol trained right between your eyes.

"Don't you fucking sleep?" you asked.

"Don't fucking play with me," he growled. "What the fuck are you doing?"

You sighed, sagging slightly as the exhaustion that had been weighing on you for days seemed to grow even heavier.

"I'm leaving, Ghost. I'm hiking to the nearest town, and then I'm going to disappear." You had already figured out how far, which direction. Once you made it into the town you could get new clothes and transportation to a larger city where it would be easier to get lost in the crowd.

"You think I'm going to believe that? After everything that just happened with Graves? How do I know you're not off to sell us out?" He was pissed. It made sense. You were the most recent in a long line of betrayals.

"I wouldn't do that. I can't believe you think I would do that." You swayed on your feet from fatigue. You hadn't slept in days trying to plan your way out. "I'm tired, Simon. Don't you see that this shit with Graves is the reason I want out? I don't want to be hunted anymore."

"You don't mean that," he said. "You can't leave us." He sounded hurt. You had never heard his voice shake before.

"I'm going. Shoot me or whatever. I don't care." You turned away from him. Before you could even take a step he had caught up to you, arm around your throat as he growled in your ear.

"You're not going anywhere." You heard him rip the knife from the wood, and then the blade was pressed to your throat. "I won't let you."

You didn't have the energy to fight him. Not after everything that had happened. He threw you against the nearest wall, cheek pressed against the corrugated metal as he pinned you in place.

"Never thought you would turn your back on us like this," he growled. "Another fucking traitor."

"I'm not working for Shepard," you hissed. "Why don't you believe me?"

He was quiet for a long moment, holding you still because he knew you would disappear if he gave you the chance. It almost felt like an embrace.

"You really want to leave?" he asked quietly.

"Yes." You squeezed your eyes shut and sighed. "No." A wave of anger rushed over you, and you thrashed in his hold. All that managed to get you was a thin cut on your neck where the knife still rested. “I don’t know. I’m just tired of everyone turning against us! I don’t want to lose you.”

“How will leaving fix any of that?” He didn’t sound as angry anymore, but you could still hear the hurt in his voice.

“It won’t fix it. I just want to fuck something up on my own terms for once,” you spat. You knew it was stupid. You knew you would get three days out and then turn around and come crawling home to them.

“You’re a goddamn idiot,” Ghost chuckled. He crowded you closer against the wall, settling his full weight on you. “You still wanna leave?” he asked, and the knife pressed a little closer to your skin.

“I don’t know how this is any incentive for me to stay,” you bit back.

“It’s not incentive,” he murmured. “It’s an order.”

-

You stayed. For him. And Soap and Gaz and Price and Roach. What else could you do? Ghost never ratted on you for trying to leave, and you gave some bullshit lie for the cut on your neck from his knife. The only thing that changed was Ghost always put his bunk right next to yours -- between you and any exit.

And things went to hell. Of course they did. You couldn’t trust the Americans, or the Russians, or anyone for that matter. And you fought your way through every fucking mess you were dropped into.

You didn’t know who sent the missiles. Only that you were six stories up on the roof of a parking complex when the entire city block went up in smoke and ash. When you finally realized you hadn’t been crushed in the rubble -- but your gun and radio were good as gone -- you climbed up to the surface and tried to make your way out of the smoke before you suffocated.

There wasn’t a single building left standing for half a mile in every direction.

You had nothing but your sidearm as you clawed your way to habitable civilization and no way of contacting the rest of the team. There was a rendezvous point about a dozen kilometers out, and you knew you had to make it there somehow.

It took hours to hike there, and you felt like a goddamn idiot trying to ask the locals for directions in the chaos after the missile strike, but they were kind enough to get you on the right path.

You were in the middle of fucking nowhere, but you could see the rusted and overgrown abandoned crane yard in the distance. All you had to do was get there and pray that someone else had survived.

And then someone tackled you from behind.

You landed an elbow to their jaw before you recognized Ghost pinning you to the dirt road. The hit didn’t even phase him. He ripped at your collar until your neck was exposed, finger tracing along the scar he had left weeks and weeks ago.

“You came back.” He was breathing hard behind the mask.

“You’re fucking crazy,” you spat. His hand was still on your neck, and you couldn’t move with him fucking sitting on top of you.

He ignored you, gloved hands grabbing your jaw and forcing you to meet his eyes. He tilted your head this way and that until he was satisfied you weren’t concussed. “I thought you were fucking dead,” he breathed.

“I did too.” You placed a hand over his, hoping it would comfort him a little. “Where are the others?”

“Up ahead. At the rendezvous. They’ll be glad to see you.”

You made a move to sit up, hoping Ghost would get the hell off you. Instead, he pinned you back to the dirt. You thought he was going to punch you for half a second.

The intensity of his expression made sense when he tugged his mask up to his nose and leaned forward to kiss you.

“Simon!” You shoved against his chest, trying to get him off you. “What the hell?”

He knocked you back to the ground easily, pressing his forehead to yours and breathing hard. You tried to swing at him, but he caught your hand, rolling you and pinning your arm behind your back. You heard the sound of a sheath unsnapping and then his knife was at your throat once more.

“Simon,” you tried again. “Can we talk about this?”

“Talk later,” he growled, mouthing at your neck which you were sure was covered in dust and dirt, but he didn’t seem to care.

“Later,” you repeated, dumbfounded. The entire situation felt surreal. You had no idea what was happening.

“You’re okay?” he asked, a clumsy hand stroking down the side of your face.

“Okay?” You asked, bewildered. “Ghost, what the hell is going on?”

“I can’t lose you.” His forehead hit the back of your shoulder and you heard him swallow hard. “Please. You can’t leave me.”

“I won’t,” you promised. “I’m not going to leave.”

[sirowsky-stories]

Collision

Part 9

Description: Taking a gamble, Pero seeks out the people responsible for the threat to Niki's life, ready to end it, one way or another.

Warnings: Pero Tovar x OFC, no reader insert, Pero's pov, conspiracy, cursing, angst, friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, secret identity, AU fic. TW: mentions of child-abuse and rape, as well as spousal abuse and coerced self-cutting. (Not committed by any of the main characters.) Rating: Mature/Explicit 18+ONLY Word Count: 6520 Series Masterlist

Author's Note: So sorry for the delay, but here is the final part of this series. I partly wish that I'd had more inspiration for a different ending to this, but I'm also not sure what that ending might've been. Anyway, thank you to anyone who toughed it out and comes to see how this ends! And to those of you who showered this story with your enthusiasm while it was active: You're all superheroes!

-=¤=-=¤=-=¤=-=¤=-=¤=-=¤=-

   It’s been three days since his run-in with the general’s assassin when he finally finds a way into the secure military base which the man himself operates from.    All of Pero’s informants have been on constant high alert since he informed them of his need to gain access to Hayword, preferably quietly, but by any means necessary should it come to that. And they haven’t disappointed.

   The Qwerty brothers are the ones who bring him the crucial intel, having managed to trick an off-duty officer into divulging a few tidbits of information during a drinking game the night before. If there’s one thing the superstar wannabes are good at, it’s holding their liquor.    He had expected them to try and worm their way out of the deal, using this success as their bargaining chip, but surprisingly, they seem only excited to give him something useful. They even offer to act as his muscle, which would in no way benefit them if he fails.    And come to think of it, not really if he should win either.

   He turns them down, though. It’s easier to sneak in undetected if it’s just him. But he does consider it, because undisciplined though the men might be, they are formidable killers and completely unbothered by the status or power of whomever their target might be. They’d be handy in a close-quarter fight, no doubt.    As it is, this mission requires finesse rather than brute force, so he heads to the compound alone.

   It’s big. Departments of almost all branches of the US military operates from here, which is why Hayword has so many resources at his disposal. But Pero suspects that not many people here are aware of the real reason why such a decorated and high-profile officer hasn’t risen further in status yet. His accolades on paper more than suggests he should be eligible for promotion into the very highest ranks of the US Army, but here he is, commanding just one base in the District of Colombia.

   They don’t know that this is as far as he will ever go, because of the practices he applies to achieve those victories. That he’s a precision tool being used where he can operate the most freely, while still under strict supervision.    They have no idea the man is responsible for entire massacres, and that he considers such actions to be normal practice. To him, there is no such thing as an atrocity, so long as it’s committed in the name of protecting American citizens.

   And the fact that only a handful of people within the highest seats of the government know this, is also precisely why killing the general won’t solve anything. It would just spark an even worse manhunt.    Which means that Pero has to play this much more delicately. But he’s prepared himself as well as he possibly could have.

   A precision strike, perfectly timed and executed is what it’ll take to succeed here tonight, but if all his assets have performed exactly as instructed, there’s every chance it could work.    He chooses to focus on that, rather than the overwhelming odds he might fail, as he begins his perilous endeavor into the base.    This is for Niki. So, even if he dies trying, it’s already worth it.

-=<>=-=<>=-=<>=-

   “That’s it?”

   “It’s all I can find. He heads for one of the neighboring buildings, by the looks of it, but I can’t see him beyond the subway cameras.”

   “So, what? He’s just gone…?” Niki half screams, half sobs, because this is more than she can take right now.

   “No, no, no, hey…” William counters softly, taken off guard by how strongly she reacts, rising to his feet and turning away from the screens to give her his full focus. “He would never leave you. You gotta know that.”

   She does know that. In the safest and most tightly guarded part of her heart, she knows. But her mind falters, corroded by the terror she’s been living with for weeks now, and she closes her eyes against his words, unable to allow herself the hope.

   “Something’s happened while he was out, either someone spotted him or he’s afraid that someone will, that’s the only reason he’d behave like this. Trying to throw someone off our scent. So, now more than ever, it’s imperative that we don’t screw up.    Do you hear me, Niki?”

-=<>=-=<>=-=<>=-

   Once inside the compound, Pero moves fast. He needs to locate the general before anyone clocks him as someone who doesn’t belong there, although the stolen uniform he’s wearing helps to make him stand out less. There are way too many people to try and sneak past, so he has to walk among them as though he belongs, knowing who to salute and how to behave like just another cog in the military machine.

   Which is why he’s spent the past three days scouting the base from afar, learning it’s rhythm, routine, and discipline. He knows everything he needs to know, including that the rank indicated on his uniform gives him access to the building where Hayword mostly operates from.    He gets in without problems, thanks to an immaculate fake ID badge with a built-in electronic signature for all locks on the premises, courtesy of the best forger in the world.

   The general is already in there, he’s made sure to time it so that the man will be in his office, probably having lunch, when Pero gets to him.    This is where routine and punctuality becomes a man’s enemy, because those things make him predictable, and the trespasser has spent enough time observing him to know that he never misses his lunch.    Mrs. Hayword makes it for him, with outstanding precision.

   On his way there, Pero encounters a nervous cadet, probably only given access to this building while she learns about the real-life application of military forces, because she doesn’t have the rank required to actually work in here.    Ordinarily, that would require her to stay on the heels of a chaperone, or supervisor, but she’s all alone when he meets her in an otherwise empty corridor.    Most all corridors are empty, since personnel here work primarily at desks and with computers, not requiring them to move around much within departments.

   “Sir!” she salutes as she approaches him, and as soon as he’s saluted her in return, she launches into a nervous rant. “Sir, I’m so sorry, I don’t wanna be a bother and I’m sure you’re very busy, but I’ve lost my captain, and I don’t know what to do.    Can you help me? If I screw this up, I won’t pass this month’s evaluation…”

   He checks his watch. It’ll take him another two minutes to reach the general’s office and by his calculations, he has at least ten minutes before his mark might be finishing his meal. But he’s not keen on going off-script. Even the smallest deviation could be fatal to his mission.

   “Do you know where you’re supposed to be right now, cadet?” he asks, hoping to ascertain if this might be a quick fix.

   “Uh, I think we were heading for Logistics, but then I went to the bathroom and when I got out-…”

   “Straight down this hall, take a left, then follow the corridor all the way to the end. Logistics is the last door on your right,” he cuts her off, then continues on his way.

   “Oh, gosh, thank you so much, Major!” she chirps while she starts moving in the direction he’s indicated.

   He has the entire building memorized from top to bottom, so simply giving directions was never gonna be an issue.    But as he’s about to turn a corner, he hears the young woman say something, more to herself than anyone else, and her words manage to grind him to a halt.

   “…I’m enough of a failure as it is.”

   Precisely why hearing these words from this unknown woman (well, more like girl, really) affects him so profoundly in that moment, escapes his understanding at first. But as he turns back and sees her initial excitement at knowing where to go, fade with the understanding that she’ll likely get an earful once she gets there, and how her shoulders slump with the realization that she’s already failed, something stirs in his gut.

   Some dormant paternal instinct, maybe, brought to the surface by even the frailest possibility that he might one day have to see his own child suffer with self-doubt and insecurity.

   “Cadet,” he calls back softly, and she immediately stops, whirling around and adapting the correct pose for when an officer addresses her, with her hands tight to her sides and her feet close together. “How old are you?”

   “Nineteen, sir.”

   “Nineteen…” he repeats, tasting the word while his mind makes a quick jump back in time, recalling his own, less than excellent youth. “You’re in the military rather than a gang. You take pride in accomplishing a task, rather than expect the world to cater to you. You worry about how to be a good soldier, when you could’ve just as easily thrown your life away in any number of ways and for any sort of shallow reasons. But you’re here. Where everything is hard and challenging, testing yourself to the limits of your abilities, day after day.”

   She grows teary-eyed as she listens, and he wonders if no one has ever seen or pointed out her strength before. Just as he wonders why he does now, and why this girl’s strength even matters to him.

   “You’re not a failure, cadet.”

   He can see her open her mouth to say something, but her throat is too tightly closed, so she nods instead, while a small but infinitely grateful smile adorns her lips, before she turns and sprints down the hall, no doubt worried about how late she already is. And perhaps eager to conceal her tears from someone she believes to be her superior.

   Pero watches her leave, even though he’s on a schedule, and a strange feeling that this encounter was important to him, lingers in his body.    Something warm but also frightening.    Once she’s gone, he shakes his head a fraction and then resumes his course for the general’s office, checking his watch again on the way. Three minutes to spare.

   Reaching the correct door, he pauses and listens, confirming someone’s actually in there, before he knocks just once and then steps in without waiting for an invitation. He only alerted the man to the presence of someone at his door to ensure that he’ll be looking this way as Tovar steps in, since he knows the man will immediately look him up and down in search of any visible weapons. And finding none, he’ll trick himself into a false sense of security, which is exactly where his enemy wants him. Oblivious to the real danger.

   “Good day, general. My apologies for interrupting your lunch, sir, but I’m afraid I have a rather urgent matter to discuss,” he politely addresses the older man, who looks mostly annoyed, but also confounded.

   “I’m sorry, do I know you, major?”

   “No, sir.”

   “Then what makes you think you can interrupt my lunch at all?”

   “Urgency, as mentioned, sir. I’m afraid this can’t wait.”

   “I don’t care how god damned urgent you think whatever this is might be, I don’t know you, which means you’re not part of my unit. So, you can either get out or get arrested,” the general barks, glaring at him now over his plate of roast beef and mashed potatoes.

   “You’re correct, sir, I’m not part of your unit. In fact, I’m not a major or even listed in any military,” Pero confesses calmly, following the other man’s movements as he quickly rises from his chair and picks up his phone, probably to call the military police.

   But his uninvited guest doesn’t flinch.

   “Mary does make wonderful lunches for you. There’s such dedication to every detail, so much time spent on planning and preparation, one might think she’s a chef,” he says, layering every word with implication, and seeing the man freeze before hitting any button as he realizes the fraud before him isn’t harmless. “Even the plate is immaculately prepared. Not one drop of sauce in the wrong place, everything perfectly measured and laid out in exact proportions… almost as if she worries that getting one detail wrong would see her punished for her failure.”

   Hayword is fuming by the time he finishes, but he keeps his feelings under control for the time being, undoubtedly hoping to learn more about his enemy.    Although, the fact that he puts the phone down without having attempted any calls, reveals to his guest just how uncomfortable the man suddenly is, and how much power Pero has over him right now.

   “Everyone here knows my wife; you could’ve asked around for that information. If you’re trying to intimidate me-…”

   “She cuts herself in the evenings,” he clips the general off, and sees his quarry literally swallow whatever he’d been about to say. “You’ve taught her how to do it exactly right so that it’ll hurt without causing any real damage. Because you like to watch.”

   The older man’s rage is undiminished, but his lips remain sealed, because he knows where this is going, and while he might not be ashamed of it, he damned well knows what happens if it gets out.

   “Her pain is the only thing that arouses you, so you stand there at the edge of the bed, stroking yourself while you watch her cut repeatedly at your command, just so you can shove your dick down her throat and choke her half to death once she’s got you hard enough,” Pero continues, letting his disdain for the man be heard in every syllable now. “I’m curious, do you think your unit would have your back if they found out what happened to your first two wives?”

   Hayword’s anger seems to dissipate now, because this is entirely unexpected. He’s been assured that no evidence remains of those women, or of the crimes he committed against them.    But Tovar is no ordinary man. Secrets find him as if they had a mind and a will of their own.

   “You’re bluffing…” the general tries, although his tone is all but convincing.

   To prove that he isn’t, the trespasser produces an envelope from his jacket pocket, throwing it on the desk for the other man to retrieve.    He’s not stupid enough to hand anything directly to the trained military officer with no conscience or morals, as that would practically be an invitation for the man to engage in physical combat.

   Hayword picks it up and pulls the top open, sliding the one folded piece of paper out and taking a step back before he unfolds it, since looking at it requires him to take his eyes off his enemy, and he wants a little more space between them first, to give himself another second of reaction time, should Tovar decide to attack when his focus is elsewhere.    But one look at the paper in his hands is enough to make him realize that his unwanted guest fights his battles in a different way.

   “Who the fuck are you?” he asks between tight jaws, as he refocuses on the man who stands in the middle of his office, with his arms hanging loosely down his sides, seeming as unbothered by this encounter as he would meeting a tree in the forest.

   “My name is Mr. Hood,” he replies, and then pauses to let the general absorb that, clearly familiar with the infamous name, before he continues. “Ordinarily, I never work for anyone other than myself, but in this instance, I’ve made an exception.    And her name is Nikita Morse.”

   The older man doesn’t seem terribly surprised to hear that, but his mood shifts again because he’s well aware of how important that woman is right now, not just to the US military, and even government, but to the general himself.    Failure to ascertain or assassinate this particular target wouldn’t go over well with his superiors. Best case scenario is that he merely loses his job.

   “If you know anything about Morse, you know we can’t just leave her be,” he counters, but there isn’t much conviction behind his words anymore.

   “And I’m here to inform you that if you don’t, I will not only ruin your life… I’ll come after everyone. Straight up the chain of command, all the way to the President himself,” Pero cautions, meaning every word.

   “You’d never get close to anyone else. I’ve seen your face, we’ll be able to track your every move from now on, you won’t be able to take a shit without us hearing about it.”

   “Oh, but that won’t be necessary. You see, my method has always been to use middle-hands for everything, and this is no different. My face won’t help you because I won’t be the one who delivers the damning evidence to the courts, or the spouses, or the children.    I’ve been doing this for a long time, general. Long enough to know how to infiltrate your innermost circles and get your terrified wife to confess to exactly what you do to her, just like I know how colonel Peters doesn’t go to church for the sermons, or why the Chairman himself has no less than three hidden bank accounts in different parts of the world.”

   Hayword merely swallows hard at that, but Tovar can see how he’s still looking for a way out, refusing to accept that this one man could ever do so much damage.

   “So, you’re willing to die for this woman? Because you gotta know no matter what you might have on me, I can’t let you waltz out of here.”

   “Well now, the problem isn’t really what I have on you, is it?” he taunts, knowing he’s still got the upper hand here and ready to play his cards as savagely as he possibly can.

   “The fuck does that mean?”

   “Tyler…” Pero says softly, and all color drains from the general’s face.

   Because even he knows that out of all the messed up shit his family has going on, his oldest son takes the cake, by miles.

   “Where was it you found him the first time? Arizona? With those poor boys he’d raped just bleeding out on the ground…    And what did you do? You helped him cover it up. He killed two little kids, and you just swept it under the rug like it never happened.    The second time was in Tennessee, if I’m not mis-…”

   “Alright! You’ve made your god damned point!” the general all but roars as the truth gets to be too much for him. “Just… stop.”

   But his unwanted guest isn’t one to let his marks off easy.

   “I can’t do that. Unless you stop first. That’s the only way this ends, because even if I die, my informants will continue to do my bidding. They’ll have no choice. I’ve made sure of it.”

   “Do you have any idea how dangerous the information your girl sits on is? How powerful that knowledge would be in the hands of our enemies?” Hayword presses, but his tone betrays nuances of desperation now.

   “Yes, I do. But the problem here, general, is what you have failed to understand about all this, which is that when you turn on your own… the definition of an enemy suddenly becomes very broad.    Right now, for instance, you’re my biggest enemy. The US government is my enemy. Not because of my own history or even your politics, but simply because you used and discarded some of the greatest scientific minds of this country, as if they were worthless.    How am I supposed to trust anyone who treats their own assets that way?”

   “No, you just blackmail your own fucking assets instead…”

   “The difference being that I’ve never tried to hide it from them or gone back on my word to leave them alone if they do what I demand. I tell them from the start exactly what’s happening and how to avoid it escalating into something truly unpleasant, and if they play along, nothing bad happens to them.    You told these people they were free to go live their lives, and then you hunted them down like cattle to the slaughter.    I’m no saint, but at least I don’t hide behind an army so I can pretend to be the good guy.”

   The general has no comeback for that, but he’s deeply unhappy with how this conversation is going, that much is evident from the ever-growing hopelessness in his eyes.

   “Considering what I’ve just told about myself and my methods, I have only one more thing to ask you, sir,” Pero finally determines, holding the man’s gaze with pure steel in his own, as he delivers the last question. “Will you comply with my demand, and seize all pursuit, physical and digital, of the innocent woman we both know as Nikita Morse?”

   “It’s not within my power to command.”

   “Yes, it is. In fact, you are the only person with the power to make that command. If you weren’t, I’d be in someone else’s office right now.”

   “I can’t risk the safety of this country-…”

   “And losing the entire government, along with all trust from the American people, isn’t risking the safety of this country?” Tovar counters, letting his voice turn sharp and somewhat threatening to highlight the ridiculousness of the man’s reasoning.

   The general falters at that, unable to think of a retort. He’s painted into a corner, held hostage on one side by the responsibilities he carries against his superiors, and on the other, by Pero’s ultimatum. Either way, he risks terrifying consequences both to himself and those around him, so the only questions which remains, is whether he values family or his work the highest.

   Pero is ordinarily exceptional at reading people and their intentions, but on this occasion, he can’t determine what the general will decide.    With how he treats his wife, one could be forgiven for thinking he doesn’t give a shit about her, but on the other hand, he’s gone to great lengths and sacrificed a lot in the name of protecting his son.

   So, the trespasser waits. And the man deliberates.

   Then…

   “I have your word that my family affairs will not be publicized, in any forum, on any type of platform, physical or digital, if I agree to call off the search on Morse?”

   “If you pick up that phone and make the call to the Chief, declaring her dead and dealt with, right now in front of my eyes, and give me every assurance that no further efforts will be spent, from any unit, military, private or otherwise, on further pursuing her, covertly or openly, then yes. I will disappear, and you will never see me again.”

   “And what about the outside sources who already pursue her?”

   “They’ll be dealt with; I can promise you that.”

   The general takes one more moment to consider, and then makes his decision.    He picks up the phone, and just to make sure that he knows he can’t trick his way out of this, Pero recites the number he needs to call, checking that the man does indeed punch in the correct digits and insisting that he put the phone on speaker.    The call is brief and to the point, and when it’s over, the unwanted guest leaves the same way he walked in.

   No alarms start blaring. No one tries to stop him. The general has kept his word.    For now.    But Tovar fully intends to keep monitoring him closely.

-=<>=-=<>=-=<>=-

   Two months after he disappeared, Niki has all but stopped believing he’s ever coming back.    She never stands by the curtained windows anymore, dreaming of stepping outside into the freedom and fresh air. She no longer pesters William for updates, desperate for any scrap of news about her lover.    She persists. Her life is a prison-like routine of exercise, food, and sleep. Nothing more.

   If not for the baby, she would’ve given up by now and taken her chances on the streets. But she can’t risk the life she carries.    His child, and maybe all that’s left of him.    Weeks ago, she made a choice to think of him as dead, and allow herself to grieve him, because otherwise she would’ve been buried under the endless torrent of uncertainty. So, to her mind, he’s gone, and he isn’t coming back.

   In his place, Will does what he can, taking care of the housework and making sure that Niki follows her routines to stay healthy and give the baby the best conditions available.    He stopped telling her about any leads he finds a while back, after noticing that it only ever upsets her when nothing comes of them. But she knows he still searches.    That the hours spent in front of those screens aren’t merely to make sure he knows if someone picks up their trail, but also to look for any clue his missing friend might’ve left for him.

   She worries about him. He’s a fragile person, prone to denial, but eventually he will have to accept that his searching is in vain, and when that happens, however long it might take for him to reach that point, it’s going to absolutely destroy him.    But she suspects it’ll take him years to get there.

-=<>=-=<>=-=<>=-

   Without Will’s help, it takes three times longer for Pero to find the people he needs to find next. But he can’t risk contacting them.    Hayword has thus far stuck to his word, and so long as the three of them only have the Chinese element to worry about, he’s not gonna jeopardize their best chance of getting out of this in one piece, just because he misses Niki.

   He does though. So fucking much.    It’s impossible not to think about her, not to wonder if her belly has begun to swell, or worry that she’s had to come to terms with having lost the baby, without him there to grieve with her and comfort her.    That’s the hardest part. Not knowing if she needs him right now.

   But he’s close to finishing this, he’s finally found the person who’s after her. It took this long only because the woman was hiding behind a network of decoys, but once Pero figured it out, locating the actual culprit wasn’t very hard.    What is going to be hard, though, is getting to her. She’s got layers upon layers of security, and lives in what’s essentially a fortress, forcing her enemy to keep his distance and observe.

   Mr. Hood is not a man who enjoys violence, and although he is good at fighting when it’s required of him, he’s always preferred a more elegant solution. It generally creates less ripples on the water, less potential future complications.    But this time, he may have no choice.    His research into this woman has revealed no skeletons, probably not because there aren’t any, but more likely due to her exceptional skills at manipulation.

   She runs her miniature empire not by instilling fear in her subjects, but by making them love her and thus desire nothing more than to protect her.    To get to her, Pero is gonna need to get creative. He already knows that what she wants from the information Niki can provide, is to use it as leverage against the male dominance of her country’s leaders and decision makers. She wants a seat at the table.    But what he can’t figure out is how to offer her something either better than the weapon’s research, or something scary enough to make her back off.

   Everyone has something in their history they don’t want people to know. And this is always especially true of the rich. The problem is that her circle is so tight he can’t get to her from the outside. Can’t rummage through her secrets by coercing someone to feed them to him, because everyone who might know them live in the fortress with her. All equally inaccessible.    Unless… he tries something really stupid.

-=<>=-=<>=-=<>=-

   “Come on, Tovar,” William grumbles to himself, having once again checked all his online traps for signs of the missing member of their group, and come up dry. “Give me a damned crumb, will ya.”

   It’s the middle of the night and Niki’s asleep, so he keeps his voice down, but this is how he spends most nights these days. Hunched over his keyboard, restlessly searching in ever more unlikely places. He’s got programs running non-stop, some designed to look for Pero’s physical description in coroners reports from all over the world, others to look for mentions of his alias in people’s voice mails, emails, text messages, and so on. He’s got dozens of these programs running every minute of every day.

   Nothing pings anymore. After almost three months, there are no leads.    Nikita gave up on him a while ago. But not because she doesn’t want him to come back or because she doesn’t believe in him. She gave up because hope hurts too much.    She doesn’t have a choice now, but to focus her efforts on her baby, and she tries. But Will can see how it tortures her. That however much she might try and convince herself he’s dead and that she’s grieved him, the hope is still there.

   That’s why Will hardly ever rests.    Even if he can’t bring her partner back to her, he can at least try to give her closure, if indeed Pero has been lost.    But unlike Niki, the veteran still leans on his hope. He still believes that the mysterious Mr. Hood is alive, working hard on keeping her safe. He’s got too much experience with the man to believe he could be bested even by enemies of this caliber.

   And what drives his hope most of all, is actually the lack of findings. Because if Tovar had been killed, someone would’ve been yelling about it, somewhere in the world. A person like him doesn’t just vanish, not when so many people have reason to fear what he knows, and how that information might be distributed upon his demise.    No, he’s still alive. Plotting, scheming, hunting. Wherever he is, he’s not done.

-=<>=-=<>=-=<>=-

   It was far from a perfect plan, but as he now stands before his quarry, finally, after weeks of patiently waiting in a dungeon, he’s smiling internally at the fact that he’s about to win this war.    Getting himself captured might’ve seemed counterintuitive, but it had been the only way to get himself inside the fortress, where he’d been able to start sowing seeds of doubt within the residents and learn more about his captor in the process.

   And now he has the woman herself, Baozhai Gao, in front of him at last.    He knows how to get her to back off, just like he knows that she’s actually not a villain. Her entire life has been spent in a silent war, a constant threat to her existence, and all she wants is just to have enough power that she doesn’t have to fight anymore.    Something he can easily give her.

   “I’m told you are responsible for the loss of my best team,” she says once he’s standing before her, tied up and on his knees, but otherwise unharmed.

   He’s waited until today to disclose to his guards that he knows all about the house in the woods and the six operatives who never returned from there, since Gao clearly doesn’t know who he is by face alone.

   “It was my house they tried to infiltrate in search of Miss Morse,” he admits, and sees her interest pique at the mention of Niki. “Unfortunately for them, I’m a very resourceful person. And someone who cares a great deal about the woman you seek.”

   “You know where she is,” Gao hungrily replies, too enamored by learning this to realize that what he’s really saying is, he’s never going to help her find her quarry.

   “I know a lot of things, Baozhai. Like what your brother did to you when you were twelve. How he tried to sell you so that your parents would only have him to dote on.    I know about The Park and what you were made to do there, the things you had to do to free yourself, the things the ensuing guilt then made you do to yourself… I know you’ve had about the shittiest life anyone could imagine and that all you want is just to be free of men and our endless pursuit of power.”

   She looks absolutely sick to hear him say this, and he understands that, because this woman has never shared her secrets with anyone. Not really. She carries her deepest burdens alone, specifically so that no one can use them against her.    And now here’s this foreigner, this outsider, who somehow knows her innermost truths.

   “How?” she challenges, and there’s both anger and desperation dripping from the one little word as it falls across her lips.

   “That’s not as important as why.”

   “It’s important to me.”

   “Only because you fear that someone else might learn about it, but I can assure you, they won’t. I’m not here to hurt you, just to make a deal.”

   “A deal? You mean blackmail me into leaving Nikita Morse alone.”

   “No. I mean offer you something even more valuable, in exchange for her freedom,” he counters, deliberately using the word freedom instead of suggesting she should cooperate, since he knows what that word means to Gao.

   She doesn’t respond verbally, but her eyes tell him to go on.

   “I can provide you with damning information about half the world’s most influential people. From leaders and corporate whales to those you’ve never even heard of, but who’s networks of information are crucial to the balance of power within this world.”

   “If you really have this kind of information, why not use it yourself?” she challenges, not ready to believe that anyone could have that level of power and just sit on it.

   “Because I’ve never had any ambitions. All I’ve ever wanted is just for people to stop being cruel for the pettiest fucking reasons, but I could never find anyone who didn’t disappoint.    And then I met Niki. And now all I want is just to be with her. To not have to run or hide for the rest of our lives. To find out if our baby made it-…”

   He has to stop then, because the thought reminds him of how long he’s been away, and it tortures him to think of how Niki must hate him now. How she must’ve come to the conclusion that he’s either abandoned her completely, or that he’s dead.    If the baby did make it, she’ll be halfway through the pregnancy by now, but unable to see a doctor or an OBGYN, unable to even leave the apartment. And he can imagine what something like that would do to a person like her.

   Whether Gao believes him or not, she decides that the information he offers is too valuable to pass up and agrees to a deal.    It takes him another two days to convince her of his truthfulness, however, which he does by offering up absolutely crushing evidence against one of her worst adversaries, but then she finally lets him go.

-=¤=-

   Returning to New York is just as terrifying as it had been to leave. He has to be cautious, though. Not rush back to the apartment building, but instead take the time to make sure Hayword is still keeping his word.    He makes his presence in the city known by walking around where dozens of different cameras will capture his face and body in detail, and then he makes himself disappear again, sticking to the shadows as he watches and waits.

   After five days, he decides that if someone is still watching, he’ll risk it. He has to see her again, even if it means getting back on the run.    He walks straight up to the front door of the building and steps inside, heading for the elevators and going to the correct floor without detours or any attempts at confusing anyone who might be tracking him.

   The doors open and he walks out into the hallway, suddenly so scared that they won’t be there. That no one will answer when he knocks.    He passes a painting and sees his reflection in the glass, abruptly concerned that he hasn’t dressed better, or combed his hair, or washed his hands since going to the bathroom that morning. As if any of it matters.

   Instead of peepholes, there are little widescreen cameras at chest height in each apartment door, directly linked to a touchscreen inside, which automatically displays what the camera sees if there’s movement within its field of vision. So, they’ll know it’s him before they even open. If they’re still there.

   His hand shakes as he raises it towards the flat surface before him, and he hesitates, taking a couple of trembling breaths before he taps on the door, so timidly that it barely makes a sound at first, and he has to coerce his hand to tap harder.    His heart races while he waits, too loud in his own ears for him to hear if there are any sounds from in there. Any signs of movement. It takes so long.

   Then the deadbolt turns.    The handle slowly drops.    The door begins to swing open.

   His breath vanishes as she comes into view. Her eyes are wide but so bleak, her skin still too pale, her movements slow and cautious.    But she’s fuller now. Thicker. And there’s a well-defined bump in between her hips.

   All this time, he’s forced himself not to let it in. Not to allow the reality of the threat against them settle into his being, not to let his fears have any room because that would’ve broken him, and he couldn’t afford it.    Those walls crumble at the sight of her, and he drops like a ton of bricks onto the threshold, collapsing to his hands and knees as the four months of terror catch up to him.

   He feels her hands grip him, stronger now, but trembling just like his as she pulls him into her embrace. And he wants to hold her, but his arms won’t obey. Wants to kiss her but his body is suddenly so heavy.    Somewhere to his right, he hears William ask if it’s over, and he manages to nod. Shortly after, sunlight streams into the apartment as the man has apparently pulled the curtains back. How dearly he must’ve longed to get to do that.

   Then the sweetest voice he’s ever heard in all his life, whispers in his ear.

   “I love you, Pero.”

   She’d promised him she’d say it. When it was over.

   “I… I love you… both,” he stammers through the tears, just as he’d promised.

THE END

-=¤=-=¤=-=¤=-=¤=-=¤=-=¤=-

Thank you for taking this journey with me!

@pedrostories @harriedandharassed

[84reedsy]

A Friend Date

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 7888

Characters: Kevin Nash, Scott Hall, FemOC (Brooklyn)

Pairings: Kevin Nash/FemOC; Scott Hall/FemOC (implied)

Warnings: Smut, Cursing, Consensual Infidelity, semi-public sex

“For some reason, it's really important to Scott that we are friends and can get along,” Brooklyn had trouble saying the simplest of things to Kevin Nash without an attitude creeping into her tone.

“We can fake it in front of him. At least, I can,” Kevin crossed his arms, defiant to her olive branch. Just because Scott was smitten with her didn’t mean he had to be, for that reason alone he often resisted returning any kindness out of spite.

“You can barely look at me without sneering” she pointed at him, “See? You just did it,”

Kevin resisted rolling his eyes, which would only further her point. He wanted to wipe that smug smile from her face. That's probably the way she often felt when he was around. He couldn’t blame her but couldn’t be bothered to change his ways at this point.

“Fine. How the hell do we do a ‘friend date’?” He gave in though the words were full of disdain. Seeing Scott outside through the kitchen window reminded him quickly that would do anything for his long-time companion. Even if it was willinging subject himself to an evening with her.

“I dunno,” she shrugged, “I guess we go to dinner or movies or the beach or something.”

“I doubt we'd pick the same movie…” he said judgmentally, “no chick flicks,”

“Oh no of course not,” she said sarcastically, “because you're much too deep and introspective,”

“You know I was doing you a favor agreeing to this, but I'm thinking it's a bad idea now,” he opened a beer and started to walk towards the door to the patio. Even though she and Scott had met on the road, Kevin didn’t share the same camaraderie with her, he didn’t feel obligated to play an audience to her.

“God, I’m sorry,” she went after him grabbing his arm, “Please, for Scott if anything. Just dinner or whatever,”

“Fine, Tuesday, I'll pick you up around 7,” he agreed, sighing loudly.

“What should I wear?” She asked, wondering what shitty dive he'd drag her to.

“Something a little nice. Low cut, maybe they'll comp our meal and I'll get outta this pretty cheap,” Kevin surmised.

“There's that classy reputation I've heard so much about,” she rolled her eyes towards his back as she followed him out to the patio.

Kevin couldn't deny how happy she seemed to make Scott. The smile across his friend's face was genuine when she came out of the house and she went right to him, wrapping her arms around him as soon as she reached him. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been greeted like that. To say it made him bitter wouldn't be a lie, but more than anything, it made him envious.

She was too young for Scott, he reminded himself. 20 years his junior was too young to take anyone seriously. They were barely dating before Scott moved her into his house. Kevin had his reasons to be mistrustful.

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

“He agreed to it, by the way,” Brooklyn said as she got ready for bed, Scott emerging from the bathroom in a towel. She grinned at him with his black hair loose around his face and shoulders. Ever since she mentioned that she liked it down, he had been wearing it that way a lot more.

“Agreed to what?” He asked, confused at first, “Oh, going out together?”

Brooklyn could hear a subdued excitement in his voice. She knew Scott cared about her, but she knew how much Kevin meant to him, too. She never knew why Kevin never warmed up to her while they toured the pro-wrestling circuit together. She was nothing but nice to him then, but the closer she got to Scott, the more standoffish Kevin became. Sure, she could understand some jealousy, but these were full-grown, middle aged men; she expected more maturity out of them.

“Yes, we're going to dinner Tuesday,” she watched Scott like a hawk in his towel, any chance she had to see his body she took without apology. His physical presence made anything else on her mind seem to disappear.

He dropped the towel and grabbed a pair of boxer briefs, but chuckled when he saw the look of disappointment on Brooklyn’s face.

“What? You get to wear that little number to bed, but I gotta be naked?” He scoffed a little as she crawled up on the bed and kneeled at the edge of it.

Brooklyn looked down at the silky teddy he'd just bought for her.

“But it won't stay on long…” she reasoned, “I just wanted you to see it on me since it was a present.”

“Well aren't you just a good little girl,” he stalked toward her.

She found herself grateful that he'd put on those boxer briefs, they presented his bulge so well that it made her mouth water.

“How the hell is Kev supposed to keep his hands off of you when you look this good,” he licked his lips looking at her.

“Don't worry….Daddy…he won't see me like this,” she mewled at him.

Scott growled audibly at her, he still was extremely aroused by the new name she used for him. He was already half-mast, but he felt the surge of rigidity. Grabbing a handful of satin, he pulled her to him.

“God for a good girl you're so naughty…”

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

Tuesday

“What about this?” Brooklyn checked her angles in the mirror as she tried on yet another outfit. Scott watched amused, comfy in sweats and a t-shirt.

“It's cute, I've always liked that dress on you…” he thought about how often he had trouble keeping his hands to himself if she was in any kind of skirt. He knew Kevin well enough to know he had the same problem, “What about that red one?”

“The red one?? Scott, that's like skin tight and all lace,” she looked at him incredulously, “It's basically lingerie.”

“He might find it harder to be mean to you if you look like a fucking sex goddess,” Scott reasoned.

“Well that would make sense if I was trying to fuck him,” Brooklyn rolled her eyes but disappeared back into the closet.

She paired it with a skintight white slip dress underneath the sheer red lace. She wound half her hair up and secured it with an onyx zanzi and dug out white heels. They would give her a couple inches, but Scott (and Kev) would still tower over her.

Scott whistled a low, long tone when she walked out of the closet. She spun for him before going to the mirror again. She could tug at the bottom hem all she wanted, it wasn't going down any further.

“Look at your ass in that,” Scott hummed a hungry vibration in his chest, “put a bow on that and call it a gift to mankind,”

“Stooop,” she blushed, but didn't really mean it. She looked at the low scooped neckline that packaged her breasts as well as her backside. She thought of what Kevin said about earning a free meal…this certainly could do the job with the right waiter.

“I wouldn't blame him for fucking you if you wear that,” Scott lounged further down in his chair, “hell any warm blooded man for that matter,”

“He wishes,” she mumbled, “I can't handle the man I've got, I don't need anyone else,” She smirked back at him, “Plus, remember what I wore in the ring? He didn’t want to fuck me then, he’s not going to now,” she reasoned.

“It's not gonna bother me if you do,” he said honestly. He knew what made Kevin tick. He knew he'd understand what she was to him if Kevin could see her the way that Scott did. He'd understand if she acted the same way to Kevin for just one night.

“What are you trying to say?” She looked at him apprehensively, “You're not pimping me out to your buddies now are you...” She started to head back into the closet.

“Brook, wear that,” Scott stood walking towards her, “you've already got it on and you look so hot in it,” he made an obvious pass over her with his eyes.

“You didn't answer my question,” she said with a suspicious stare, backing out in their room.

“I'm not nor would I ever ‘pimp you out to my buddies’. If I was, Waltman would pay a pretty penny, “ he teased to her scrunched face, “just teasing…” he got amusement out of her reaction.

“So what's all this about screwing Nash?” She felt a nervousness in her gut that made her feel self conscious.

“Baby…I'm not saying you should. But I want you two to have fun and get to know each other. Have a couple drinks. Show him who you really are. Just be you. If you do that, I'm just saying I couldn't resist you, how can I expect him to?” Scott tried to reason, knowing he was doing a poor job. Her skeptical face confirmed this.

“What if it does? I don't want to hurt you …”she stopped there, already upset by the idea of causing him any pain.

“This is different, trust me,” he slipped his arms around her sides, “I just want you to let loose and have fun. He'll see what I see then.”

Brooklyn still wasn't convinced, but she nodded to placate Scott. The doorbell caught both of their attention. Scott left to answer it as she finished her earrings and lightly added subtle eyeliner. She didn't know what compelled her to change her simple panties, but she slipped on a cheeky satin pair instead.

She carefully went downstairs, getting used to the heels. At the bottom waited Scott and Kevin. It was quick, but she could have sworn she saw Kevin gulp. But he was definitely looking, and looking at everything. Scott pretended like he didn't notice.

“There she is,” Scott smiled up at her, proudly beaming over her attractiveness.

“Evening,” Kevin said, clearing his throat. He stared her down as she stopped on the last step to keep her height closer to his.

“Good evening,” she answered politely. Scott had to stifle laughing at the contention between the two of them, “Are you ready? We should probably get going,” she was not up for small talk.

She kissed Scott on the cheek goodbye, Kevin walking out the door first and going to the driver's side door.

“Geez Kev, your mom raised you better than that,” Scott shook his head as he crossed his arms leaning against the door frame. He could see Brooklyn was already irritated, but she hid it well.

“She's capable of getting her own door,” Kevin excused his lack of chivalry, “See?” He said as she opened her own door. She gave one last look of annoyance toward Scott, before rolling her eyes and getting in.

Kevin tried to focus on driving, glad he brought his 5-speed Lexus. Shifting gears kept him somewhat distracted from the amount of bare leg in his passenger seat.

“Nice dress,” he said, still not looking directly at her.

“Thanks,” she tried to adjust the hem in vain once again, “just something I had in the back of my closet,” she looked over at his wardrobe selection now.

He wore khaki shorts and a crisp, but plain white t-shirt, not an unusual male outfit for the sweltering humidity of Florida. His hair was done perfectly and his goatee looked freshly trimmed. His cologne smelled incredible, one of those scents that one would find themselves leaning in to catch more of.

“You look nice, too,” she returned the compliment honestly, “I feel like I should be getting hair tips from you,” she complimented him as she remembered Scott's wish that she be herself.

“Yours has always been nice, I should be asking you,” for someone who always knew what to say, he was certainly having trouble finding words to fill the silence.

She started to reach for the radio, but remembered her manners even if Kevin forgot his, “Do you mind?” She motioned towards the knobs.

He shrugged, accelerating and shifting as they merged into the highway, “Feel free,”

She fiddled with the stations until a familiar tune floated through the speakers. She had no idea what kind of music he was into, but figured I'd he was too opposed to it, he'd say something.

As T-Boz started her quick, husky lyrics, Brooklyn felt more relaxed, her leg keeping a slow time with the beat. Kevin side-eyed her movements, noticing the subtle movement of her hips. He looked away quickly when she caught him.

For some reason, catching him relaxed her. He was just a male, not some impenetrable force of nature.

“This is tight,” he complimented her, always a sucker for R&B, “Who is this?”

“TLC…how do you not know TLC??,” if anything they had similar tastes in music, “You into this kinda stuff?”

“Hell, I'm from Detroit. Motown. Birthplace of this music,” he spoke reactively, being himself though he was trying not to, “I’ve heard of ‘em, thought they were more of a pop girl group though,”

“We have to get you Crazy, Sexy, Cool. It's a great album,” She started to feel a bit more comfortable now, “I've only been to Detroit when we were on tour. Never got to spend much time there.” She was feeling good about making conversation.

“It's home, but it's cold for way too long,” Kevin didn't elaborate, essentially shutting down the exchange.

Brooklyn tried again a few moments later.

“So where are we going?” She looked out the window, trying to figure out where they might be headed.

“It's a Jamaican place up here on the lakefront.” He vaguely gestured to the south, “Good, ethnic seafood and shit”

Brooklyn was expecting a parking lot with a food truck at this point. But the swanky restaurant outdid her menial expectations of him. Clearly it was elevated island food. At least the valet opened the door and held his hand for her. She almost jumped when she felt Kevin's large hand on the small of her back as he led her in.

“Jumpy much?” He snickered, before speaking with the hostess.

“Not used to you touching me without it being in the form of a powerbomb or chokeslam,” She reasoned, “Usually expect something violent,” She smirked knowing the hostess probably would take her words out of context. Kevin furrowed his brow angrily, knowing how she was making him look. Her smirk only confirmed it was on purpose.

The hostess only blushed as she handed off their menus to an assistant server, not making eye contact with Kevin again.

“I’ll be lucky to get out of here without getting arrested,” His teeth were gritted slightly and she could feel the heat of his glare on her, but it did little to reduce her smugness.

She sat in the chair that was pulled out for her, glad it wasn’t Kevin as she’d likely have ended up on the floor. She glanced at the wine list the maitre'd held.

“The 1972 Malbec, please,” She was met with an approving head nod from the maitre’d before he turned to Kevin, who looked at her almost disapprovingly. It was no Cristal, but it was far from their cheapest.

“Just bring a bottle of it,” He caved, at least this way it would be cheaper per glass.

“A whole bottle, what exactly are your plans?” She said as they were left alone for the moment.

“If you think I’m going to go through this whole night sober, you’re wrong. Gonna at least need a couple of glasses to tolerate you.” He sipped on his glass of water.

“Wow, just keep layering on the charm,” She put her hands on the table as if she were going to push away and stand. Kevin reached his foot out, catching the lip on the bottom of her seat and pulled it forward roughly so she was pinned to the table.

“We agreed to this, don’t get all pissy about it and think you’re going to bail. You’re stuck with me tonight, kid,” He reminded her. He lowered his leg slowly, feeling her knees trying to close.

“Rule #1 then, don’t call me kid,” She lowered her voice, but maintained a serious tone, “I’m not a kid, your buddy Scott knows that real well,” She smiled as the sommelier poured their glasses expertly. Kevin couldn’t help but glance at her cleavage as her arms inadvertently pressed them together even more. Scott had always been a fan of tits and he could definitely see the appeal there. Her ring outfits had never been conservative, but something about being in dressy, but regular clothes and not a costume made him view her differently.

“Fine, you’re not a kid, Brooklyn,” He said her name and it felt oddly personal to say to her. She seemed to react to it similarly. He grabbed for his glass, but stopped short of drinking when she cleared her throat.

“Shouldn’t we toast to something?” She reached for her glass now, holding it up from the table slightly, “isn’t it bad luck not to toast?”

“Fine,” he held his glass out, “To an…unusual woman… who makes my friend very happy and for that I am grateful for her,” He offered, noting the subdued surprise on her face. The corner of his mouth couldn’t resist a smirk.

“To a man that the love of my life considers family, that I hope to one day as well,” She hated saying such vulnerable things, but it was the truth. The glasses clinked and they each sipped, their eyes darting away from the other. They both knew that such statements would make things awkward and they had been right.

The wine warmed her tongue, throat and belly, and seemed to simmer her discomfort with her company.

“So…do you hate me because I take up too much of Scott’s time?” She asked blatantly.

Kevin sputtered in his wine a little, managing to keep it in the glass.

“Jesus, no,” He started, before bending to her unconvinced gaze, “Maybe partly. It's been him and me for a long time. I have my family, but Scott’s never been the -” He knew he was going to sound harsh and selfish, “ he’s never been the stable one. I was the guy he could count on to be there.”

“And if I’m the real deal, then you have to figure out the role of just being a regular friend?” She surmised. It was true, but he still didn’t like it.

“Honey, you haven’t seen everything yet. There might be nights you’re calling me for backup.” He knew Scott was in a different mindset now and the truth was, he had no idea if he’d fall back on those old habits if he was in a state of domestic bliss.

“And if I did?” She tried to ignore the spite in his voice, “If I called you for help, would you show up?”

Kevin took a long drink of his wine, “I would. But for him more than for you.”

Brooklyn exhaled in frustration. Just when they seemed to be heading towards some small but significant breakthrough, he had to return to disparagement.

Brooklyn excused herself to the bathroom and silently screamed into the echo-y void out of irritation. She could understand feeling threatened by a woman. This was nothing new in the realm of men’s relationships. But Kevin was being purposefully obtuse. At the moment she wanted nothing more than to kick him in the balls if only to see something else on his face other than contempt.

She leaned on the counter staring at herself in the mirror. She thought of Scott’s roundabout ‘approval’ that tonight was a ‘free pass’. He might have looked at her tits once or twice, but she couldn’t imagine Kevin was thinking of anything close to fucking her. She thought it far more likely that he might throw her in the lake to the gators.

“Be nice. It irritates him more when he doesn’t get to you,” She said aloud to herself. She adjusted her dress in the mirror, smoothing out the lace and pushing up the bust.

“You the one here with that super tall stud?” A lady walked into the bathroom as she was adjusting.

“Yeah, that’s my date,” She tried not to spit out the word.

“Girl, I ain’t ever seen someone stare at an ass like he was you. I mean, congratulations on it,” She complimented, “But you definitely got the upperhand on that man,”

Brooklyn grinned at herself, the girl code was a marvelous thing.

In her absence, Kevin had ordered for her and though she was miffed at first, when he revealed what he’d ordered, she settled her ruffled feathers. It was not a cheap dish and shrimp happened to be one of her favorite foods.

“I didn’t forget that time you out ate Norton in boiled shrimp,” he recalled, “If anything I have to respect you for that,”

She tried to let her irritation roll off her back, remembering what was said in the restroom. Perhaps he was lashing out because he was attracted to her and felt guilty about it. Lashing out would be a natural response. The idea seemed to make a lot of his behavior fall into place. Maybe Scott knew it, too and was trying to lead her to the same conclusion. She held her tongue for now, still managing polite conversation.

She played the part of a gracious date as he paid a surprisingly half-comped bill. He knew her kindness and subversive flirting was likely the cause. She seemed to easily enchant any man that came near her if she felt like it. Why she chose to be such a bitch to him was a mystery.

“Maybe because that’s a valid response to you being a dick to her first?” his subconscious suggested, but he brushed it off.

Once again, the valet opened her door, though for a moment Kevin seemed to head in the direction of doing so, but side-stepped when he was beaten.

“Where to now? Or have I worn you out for the evening?” She questioned, holding the door handle tightly as he got up to speed quickly. The sudden movement was exhilarating if not a little alarming.

He had to side glance at the way her thighs flexed when she braced herself.

“Don’t let her get you all worked up now,” His logic spoke up.

“Country Club down the shore a little ways, they have a private club. Quiet, private kind of place.” He shifted into the next gear, grinding it a little.

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

The club was dimly lit and had nicer furniture than she’d seen before. She was sure the leather sofas were worth more than her car. There were several alcoves around the edge of the space, partially obscured by heavy, dark red drapes that were secured to one side. They were led to one after Kevin spoke with a well dressed host.

Other patrons were in various levels of formal attire, if anything Kevin looked underdressed, but she assumed money bought leeway with some things. The alcove was raised from the main floor and she was surprised that it was Kevin’s hand that was held out to help her step up.

“Those heels look dangerous,” He reasoned, motioning for her to pick her seat. Two cushy black brushed suede chairs were nestled in one corner flanked by a matching loveseat. A rich, wood low level table separated them from the edge of the alcove.

“They aren’t not dangerous, thank you,” She agreed with him.

She sat, crossing her ankles to keep her legs together. Sometimes she had to purposefully remember etiquette after spending so much time on the road with wrestlers. She saw Kevin mumble something quietly to the host while handing over a small stack of folded bills.

Moments later a tray with expensive champagne and strawberries was brought. She raised her eyebrows at the gesture, though confused by his mixed signals. He poured her a glass after dropping in a strawberry.

As he settled back in his chair with his own glass, Brooklyn couldn’t stop the urge to break his composure.

"I think I know why you actually hate me" She sipped the bubbly sweet liquid.

"Can't wait to hear this" He was surprised by her sudden and direct statement, thinking they'd already covered this at the restaurant.

"Because you're jealous." She tried to subdue her wicked, knowing grin. She was amused by the sour turn of his face.

"Me. Jealous. Of you. " He scoffed at the ridiculous assumption as if it weren’t true.

"Not really of me... but...of Scott kinda" She shrugged, leaning her chin on her hand as her elbow rested on the arm of the chair, ‘It’s understandable though,”

"What the fuck are you talking about? Scott’s like a brother, but we all know I have more going on than him" Kevin replied with a contrived superiority.

"Which is why it ticks you off so much! " She didn’t falter to his cocky manner, still confident in her assessment.

"Why what ticks me off?? Fuck off with your riddles, jesus christ" He cursed, feeling the weight of her judgement.

"That from the first moment you saw me,” she made a point to make eye contact, “you wanted to fuck me so bad that you could taste it. And Scott beat you to it." She returned her own cocky attitude, taking a longer drink without taking her eyes off of him.

"Is that so..." He leaned forward, his arms on his knees, scoffing again.

"And the worst part for you is, the first time you saw me tonight you thought the same thing. And now you're mad because you're dick is hard as a rock and there's nothing....you...can do....about it"

Kevin’s ears were ringing with her words and was livid about how true they were. He knew his anger was surfacing as his breathing labored under the building wrath.

"You're about to find out what I'm gonna do about it. And Scott's not here to save you” He warned her.

“What exactly is it you plan to do about it, Mr. Nash?” She took a strawberry from the table and bit into it slowly, letting her lips linger on the juicy red fruit.

He set his glass down, with an aggressive clink that was probably not far from shattering it. Eyes on her, he lifted his hand and motioned with a finger. At that moment, the drape slowly lowered, completely obscuring them from the rest of the room. The only dim light came from two sconces glowing faintly on the wall.

Though she had expected turnabout, she couldn’t help but wonder if he could see her chest rising more quickly as the silence between them thickened.

Slow rhythmic music softly sailed from hidden speakers. She didn’t dare break the stare first.

Kevin downed the rest of his champagne in one large gulp and stood. He was such an imposing man, more so when she was sitting looking up at his towering frame.

He held his hand down to her. She looked at it and back up to his face.

“Get up,” he said, motioning for her hand with his fingers, “You owe me a dance.”

Still with her eyes on him, she set her glass down and reached to slip her hand in his. She stood, one hand sliding to his bicep, the other he held in his hand. She came up to his chest, just slightly lower than Scott. She maintained the slightest gap between them as his other hand slid around her torso.

“How do I owe you a dance?” She asked with a much more submissive tone than before. His cologne was still like a welcome incense.

“For dinner,” He reasoned, looking down at her, “and for busting my balls the last three hours,” he said but did not laugh, his face increasingly serious.

“You know I don't like that,” she still felt the tension from his mood, but struggled against smirking as he raised an eyebrow, “Well…maybe I do…but I don't like that I like it,”

“I don't like how you make me feel,” Kevin said, his firm tone contradicting how gently he was holding her, she looked at him confused, “You make me so damn aroused every damn time I see you. I want you so bad most times I have to beat it twice in your bathroom just to maintain. And then I feel like shit because you're my best friend's woman and what kind of friend does that make me,” his teeth were nearly gritted and she somehow felt safe and in danger in the same moment.

“I didn't know you felt like that,” she admitted, having only picked up on the seething hatred. She had noticed Kevin made frequent bathroom trips but never assumed anything out of the ordinary. She felt a tingle between her legs thinking about him self-pleasuring out of desperation.

“I shouldn't. I should be able to just be friends with you. At least cordial so that when I come to my buddy's house I can watch the game without thinking about you the whole time or insulting each other constantly.” he breathed like the admission was a weight off his chest but a stone in his gut, “Scott has never treated me or any girl I've been with like this, “ he winced referring to his wife as part of ‘any girls’.

Kevin pushed her away and turned his back taking a few steps while running a hand over his face then through his hair. Telling her this wasn't reducing his culpability and if anything it was making it worse having to look at her in such a sexy little dress.

“This was a mistake….I need to take you home.” He stood with his back to her still, his hands on his hips now as he cursed his stupid mind.

He shuddered when he felt her hands lay flat against his back. They rose slowly, curving over the round of his shoulder.

“Brooklyn…. You shouldn't touch me,” he closed his eyes and shook his head.

“Sit down,” she said so softly and gently that he nearly groaned, her hands pressuring his shoulders slightly.

“Brooklyn,” he protested weakly.

“Sit, Kevin….please,” she stepped closer to him, her breasts grazing his back.

He conceded and sat on the love seat, silently watching as she stood between his splayed legs.

“Close your eyes,” she said, leaning forward, her fingers grazing down over his eyes, “Close ‘em,”

He did so, his other senses acutely aware as she straddled his lap. With the slow music, she moved her hips in time with it, her hands crept over his chest and torso. His head fell back against the frame of the couch as he focused on feeling her against him. He'd had lap dances before, but nothing this sensual, nothing that made his breath shudder from his lips like this. He tried to hold still, but his own hips rolled in time with her. His hands gripped into the couch, nearly puncturing the fabric.

Brooklyn kept the pressure of her hands soft, grazing over his neck, face, and threading through his hair. She could tell she was working him up, but she wasn't doing herself any favors either. She was impressed that he hadn't touched her, but the way his hand gripped the arm of the loveseat, she knew he wanted to.

“If you want to touch me,” She whispered, “You just have to ask,”

His fingers twitched and she knew he was fighting his own inner turmoil. She felt the hem of her dress riding higher and higher as her thighs spread wide across his lap. She separated the lace from the white slip and shimmied it over her head. It was just as tight, but the fabric alone showed the obvious hardened tip of each nipple as it hugged her breasts tightly.

She pulled his shirt from where it was tucked in, running her hands underneath it. She felt the radiating heat of his skin, drawing a strained sigh out of him.

“Brooklyn…. Can I touch you…please god dammit let me touch you,” he sounded regretful to ask, but she could see he was about to burst.

“Yes, Kevin…touch me,” She spoke softly to him. His large hands did not waste time, surprisingly going to her waist first, but it made sense as he pushed her down more firmly against his lap. She felt why immediately as the khaki cloth stretched over his stiff member. But they wandered swiftly. She couldn't help but moan as his hands gripped her scantily covered ass, squeezing and massaging it roughly.

She grinded against him slowly, wondering if he was going to remain submissive or at some point take control. She would see how far she could take it before he lost his composure.

She raised enough that one of her tits hovered above his face, she ran the cotton covered nipple over his slack lip, the weight of her breast grazing his chin.

He moaned, his eyes still closed as his head leaned forward, mouthing her breast. With his teeth, he pulled the fabric down enough to nibble on her bare nipple. His hand slid back to her hips, pushing her down hard against him as he dry humped her harshly. She held on to him for stability as his tongue swirled around the rosey peak and her sex gyrated against his.

“Fuck… Kevin,” she moaned, “fuck…stop, please god, stop!” she begged, losing the fight against cumming already. Kevin slowed for a second, before she grabbed his hair and changed her tune, “Fuck it…don't stop,” she encouraged him to keep going as she pressed her sex firmly against him, “Kev, I'm cumming!” She whispered in a high pitch as she felt her juices dampen her already slick panties.

Kevin opened his eyes just in time to see pleasure etched on her face as she gripped his arms tightly. He wrapped his arms around her and held her against him securely as she rode out the waves of her orgasm. She bit her lip as she looked down at him.

“I…I didn't mean to do that yet,” she mumbled. From the haze in Kevin’s listless gaze she would have thought he'd cum, too.

“Do you know how hot you look when you cum, fuck,” he said with a hungry look in his eye, “did you get wet?” He asked, licking his lips.

Brooklyn grinned mischievously, “I guess Scott didn't tell you about that part,” she slid down him a little, his parted lips beckoning her.

“I told him I didn't want to hear anything about you…it'd only make me want you more,” He admitted. He kissed her back insistently as her mouth pressed to his. The kiss was breathless and needy, his hands pulling the slip down her body so the entirety of it bunched at her waist.

She parted from his lips long enough to beg in a whisper, “Put your hand in my panties,”

“What??” He had her nearly naked in his lap, yet couldn't quite believe his ears.

“I want you to feel what you've done to me,” She sat back enough for him to slip his hand down the front. He first found her freshly smoothed skin, but quickly found the molten wetness coating her sex.

“Jesus christ…” he slid his fingers further, massaging her sensitive bud and making her squirm, “ Wanna cum for me again?” His own words rung in his ears now, almost unbelieving that he actually said them.

“Yes…make me cum, Kev…I'm so close,” She felt the tingles building before he even touched her, the direct contact sending her to the edge again quickly. His intense gaze wasn't helping to subdue it either.

Her hips rolled her sex against his wiggling fingers and she arched her back and let her head fall backwards as she came. His free hand massaged her firm tits as he felt her pussy coat his fingers with fresh wetness.

Her legs were shaking, but she managed to stand, pulling the slip down her legs and letting the panties fall with it. She started to step out of the heels, but Kevin stopped her.

“Leave ‘em on…it's hotter that way….” He looked up and down her naked body, jealous that Scott had full access to this all the time, but at the same time totally understanding her appeal. The slit of her pussy glistened with the wetness she elicited for him. His fingers were still sticky with it, but he wanted to taste it from the source, “Please let me lick that pretty little pussy,” he scooted forward, his hands holding her hips.

Brooklyn stepped her legs slightly more apart and put her hands atop his head, guiding him to her. His wide, strong tongue licked the length of her slit, flicking past her clit and suckling lightly on it as she whimpered.

“Kev…oh fuck…Kev….” Whimpering his name only made his tongue more spirited.

Not wanting to waste the slick on his fingers, he circled her entrance with them, before slipping them inside and shallowly fucking her cunt. Her knees wobbled, but she stayed on her feet as she felt a tickle surge into the sweltering heat of another orgasm.

He slowed his fingers, but didn't stop as she recovered, moving his head back just enough to have an amazing view of his fingers sinking into her pussy.

“Are you gonna let me see that cock I've heard so much about?” She cooed, running her fingernails through his hair. He looked up at her, still slowly working his fingers. He could see the pleasured reactions on her face still.

“What have you heard?” He slowly slid his fingers from her.

“Essentially that you're basically going to rip me in two,” She chewed her lip, “but I'd like to see for myself.”

“We…we can't undo it…if we do this…” he seemed still slightly apprehensive

“You've made me cum three times and had your mouth full of my pussy…I think we've already passed too far…why stop there when I know you're dying to fuck me?” She tilted his head up to look at her, she could see the inner turmoil in his eyes, “Right now it's just you and me,” he leaned his forehead against her stomach, “And I really want to feel you inside of me,”

He clenched his jaw as he stood, kissing up her body as he went. He slipped off his shirt, loosened his belt and dropped his shorts to the floor. She couldn’t help but look at his muscular frame and proud chest. She gulped at the heavy hanging shaft between his legs, far too large to ever stand on its own.

“There's a lot to get inside of you…” he warned the obvious now. He led her to the back of the love seat, perching her ass on the top of the back of it, putting her at the perfect height for him to penetrate easily.

Her breath quickened as he used her juices to slicken his shaft, directing it into her slowly.

“Holy FUCK…” she hissed, trying to keep her voice low, but found it nearly impossible as he continued to fill her. She pressed her palm against his torso and he paused, another third left to go.

“Ever had one this big, baby?” He puffed his chest a little, knowing it was unlikely.

She shook her head, her breathing shaky as he withdrew and slid back in slowly. Her eyes rolled back as he thrusted gently and slowly.

“Never that big…” She murmured, balancing precariously on the edge, her legs spread wide around him.

“Fuck…this pussy feels so damn good….” his legs trembled with restraint as he quickened his thrusts, hoping to sneak another inch or two inside of her.

“Kev…it's…it's too…” She bit her lip to keep herself from talking, flirting with the edge of her pleasure threshold.

“Am I too big for you, baby?” He hummed at her, seeing in her face that she wanted it all even if she couldn't handle it. He held her hips, harshening his thrusts now, letting out the frustration that had been building all night.

He knew other people could hear her whimpered moans, but his generous tip bought him more privileges than them.

“Yes…” she gasped, “but, don't stop,” she begged, breathless.

He still had a couple of inches to force into her, but he waited, thrusting rapidly now into her once again, freshly soaked pussy.

“Cum on my cock like a good little girl, that's it, squirt all over me you dirty little whore,” when she did exactly as told, he knew dirty talk was her trigger. As her orgasm subsided, he slipped out of her completely, much to the protest in her expression. He stroked his slick cock quickly.

“Bend over like a good little slut,” He commanded, aroused by the visual of her bent over the couch in her white heels and nothing else. He stepped behind her and slipped in his entire length, trapping her between him and the couch she had nowhere to escape.

Brooklyn covered her mouth, but her pussy ached in the best way. Kevin's hands held her shoulders as he rocked her with powerful, deliberate thrusts. He felt all his frustrations melting away as she begged for him to fuck her harder.

He lifted one of her legs over the back of the couch, drilling her deeper still and feeling her shake with an earth-shattering orgasm that made her pussy grip his dick tightly. She groaned primally as he knew he was fucking her to the edge of consciousness.

Brooklyn could hardly manage his invasion into her body. His cock slid deeper and deeper inside of her inching past what she thought she could handle. His large gripping hands held her captive though she didn’t want to escape this welcome torture.

“I wanna feel you cum,” She begged, not caring who, if anyone, heard her on the other side of the curtain, “please cum in me, Kev…”

He groaned at the request, his logic knowing better, but it was drowned out by the drive of his sexual prowess.

“You want my cum? You want it in that slutty cunt? I'll give it to you baby,” he pressed his hand in the small of her back, burying his large cock to the hilt and forcing his cum deeper within her womb than anyone had ever before.

“Kev!” She moaned his name loudly as his cock penetrated her deeply and spilled stream after stream of his stored seed, filling her tunnel until it seeped out and dripped on his balls.

She tried to catch her breath, her body at it's limit as her muscles trembled. She nearly came at the movement of Kevin slowly withdrawing, managing an airy laugh as she slowly lowered her nearly cramping leg. She turned, leaning against the couch, still out of breath as she looked up at Kevin who was in a similar state.

“I don't really think those things about you-” he started, but Brooklyn stopped him.

“I know…I know…it was just talk,” She offered an understanding smile. She laughed again as her leg momentarily spasmed, “I might need.. something…” She looked around, knowing he'd left a hefty deposit behind.

He reached for a stack of folded cloth napkins and flicked on open, parting her legs a little. She reached for the napkin, but he held it firmly. She gasped a little as he ran it slowly up her now delicately sensitive slit.

“You don't have to…” She gasped again as he passed back over.

“It's the least I could do…it is my mess after all…” He seemed to have found his generous side. If this is what she had to do to earn his kindness, she wished they'd done this much earlier.

Her panties were nearly soaked and she laid them to the side as she slipped on the white under dress and shimmied the lace over it. There was something oddly intimate about watching her redress.

“So much for these…” She murmured at the cold, damp satin, looking around hopefully for a trashcan.

“Do you mind,” Kevin stepped up only in his shorts as he buckled his belt, “if I have them?” His eyes were trained on the ball of green fabric.

Brooklyn couldn’t believe the surge of confidence and arousal she felt at the idea of Kevin coveting her panties secretly. She was glad she had changed into a cute, sexier pair… At least for his sake.

“I don't mind at all,” She handed them over to his open and waiting palm.

He poured them each another glass of champagne and she downed it quickly, her thirst demanding hydration. He made a mental note to stop and get her water or something.

She was embarrassed as she thought of walking out in front of all the people in the club, knowing they had probably heard everything.

“Trust me, I took care of it…” Kevin tried to calm her as he slipped his shirt back on and fixed his hair.

It was the first time he'd said ‘trust me’ and meant it without sarcasm. Maybe Scott knew what he was talking about all along. She took Kevin’s outstretched hand and crept from behind the curtain, using his frame as a shield. But the room was empty, save for a few workers who didn't even look their way.

The ride back was quiet, but comfortable as they listened to the Keith Sweat album he selected. When he didn't have to shift, he rested his large hand on her thigh and she didn't seem to mind. She smirked at the glovebox occasionally, knowing the green satin that was concealed inside.

It was late by the time he pulled up in Scott's driveway, welllllll after midnight. But the porch light was on and through the glass surround of the door, she could see the glow of the den TV. Scott was still awake.

She started to get out, but Kevin locked the doors, walking around to her side. She rolled her eyes, but did so smiling this time as he opened her door.

On the porch she turned to tell him goodnight, but he grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her into a deep, intense kiss. She held onto his shoulders for balance, left unstable at first when he parted.

“I had a great time…I'm glad we did this. “ He ran his thumb across her bottom lip, “Scott's lucky he found you,”

“I'm the lucky one, Kevin. He makes me really happy,” She looked towards the door smiling, “I'd do anything for him,”

“Believe me…I know you would,” Kevin chuckled, nodding towards the door, “Get inside before I get any other ideas,”

Brooklyn leaned up and kissed his cheek, “G'night Kev,” She said softly before going inside.

Kevin felt a sense of relief and clarity as he drove away. He'd been skeptical of the whole idea, but he had to admit, Scott might have known exactly what he was talking about.

[pandasmagorica]

First watch: Knock Knock Boys episodes 3-6

Start with episode 1 (mature content)

Thinking further on my clowns, I'd also be happy with an ending where Almond decides he's okay with being a virgin and stops obsessing about losing it and everyone supports his decision.

But I'm getting way too far ahead of myself. Let the series unfold as it will.

Ep 3

Love the food as food porn, not just your every day food porn, but eating almost as a sexual act.

Ep 4

And love how the folks at Sis Hui don't take any crap about their food - I'm roaring with laughter. Reminds me of a Singlish poster about the Singapore restaurant food sanitation ratings: A - Avoid B - Better C - Can D - Delish

Ep 5

Yay! They subtitled "faan dii" as "Have a sweet dream". Alas, in a non-romantic context (Jane to her uncle) but welcome none the less.

Reveals after the cut, or continue with episodes 7-9

Ep 3

Love the prank on us viewers as to how they got to the pre-credits scene and what it meant this episode. Yes, I was thinking it was post-orgy lol. Psych!

Ep 4

Is Latte protecting Almond from a bad first experience with Jumper, protecting his chance at getting the free years rent, or is Latte jealous? Maybe a little of two of these, or all three. Based on Jumper's comments, I'm guessing that if Jumper and Almond had wound up in the closet together, it would have disabused Almond of any romantic thoughts and he would have been a wreck.

So the pre-credit scenes will pretty much happen near the end of the episode but won't necessarily be pranking us.

Okay, first Twins and now Knock Knock Boys. I'll bet there are others, I just haven't seen them. Enough with the inauspicious pooping - and this time also puking - as humor. I can stick with the series in the hopes there won't be any more but still, it doesn't even qualify as funny once. But I guess it's the worst disaster they could come up with.

And in a way, it could serve a different dramatic function than in Twins, where I think it attempted a pure slapstick function. Here in Knock Knock Boys, it could - and we'll see whether it does - serve to get Almond to take Jumper off the pedestal Almond has placed him on. That is Jumper takes an inconvenient shit instead of being a shit, which at least would give Almond a path to forgive him.

I don't remember the original scene where Peak kisses Thanwa while lying on top of him on the couch that we're flashing back to during the closet scene. When was that? Or, like some other flashbacks, are we seeing it for the first time? Anyway, Peak's man-loving side sure happened a lot faster than I expected it to.

And bad (for Peak) and good (for dramatic conflict) for Jane to show up.

And poor Almond, to walk in and see what he saw.

Ep 6

And wondering what is Jane's story. She seems quite open minded for someone who might or might not get married depending on the outcome. Guess she isn't pregnant after all, but what's with the father?

Is she a double agent? Encouraging Peak to let his feelings be known to Thanwa, but telling Thanwa that if Peak doesn't marry Jane, Peak will be in trouble with his father. Does she want to marry Peak or not?

And when are we going to see what really happened in that locker room as to what Almond did after raising his phone in Jumper and Shawn's direction?

Continue with episodes 7-9

[pinkykats-place]

BKDK Mermaid AU Mer Bakugo x Human Deku Ⅱ

AO3 NSFW Recommendations

Disclaimers!

None of the stories linked below are mine.

All contain mature content. Read tags.

Art work is not mine.

Note: If you read any of these stories and like them please let the author know with a kudos and/or comment!

A Salty Distraction by Viridian_Sunset

Summary: Deku has a shitty day at work and finds comfort in his mermaid friend.

{One Shot}

Rated - Explicit

One Fish, Two Fish, Half Fish, Marine Biologist by RandomFandoms65000

Summary: Izuku was ten years old when he met Katsuki aka a merman that the aquarium called Dynamight. As Izuku aged the merman never left the back of his mind it was one of the reason why he decided to become a marine biologist. He not only wanted to because of his love for salt and fresh water creatures, but to study Katsuki's species. Merfolk were rare and well the more they talked the more Izuku fell in love with the merman. Maybe he had always loved him.

Complete | 20 Chapters

Rated - Mature

Specks of Gold Against the Ocean's Waves by Serah_chan

Summary: While enjoying the light of the full moon, Katsuki Bakugou, an orange tailed merman, crosses paths with a handsome surfer with freckle littered cheeks. While he's not supposed to interact with the human, there's something about them that draws the merman to get close and ignore all boundaries.

“Huh, he’s kinda good looking for a human.” Katsuki muses, feeling the annoying itch of curiosity push him towards getting a better look. He wonders if he can observe him from down below as he takes on the waves, catch glimpses of him as he falls back to the water. Human eyes weren’t exactly the best anyway, so he shouldn’t have to worry about being seen... right?

Complete | 19 Chapters 

Rated - Mature

I’ve Got You, Stupid Human by GreenEyesSublime

Summary: The mysterious man swam the last few feet to the rock. Putting his hands up on the edge, he hauled himself out of the water with a flourish. Izuku watched in awe as first a toned, muscled chest emerged from the water and then a tight pack of abs followed by a dangerously sharp v-cut pointing downwards towards a...tail?!

— — —

Or, human!Izuku has been cleaning the beach for weeks and merman!Katsuki is tired of just watching. 

{One Shot}

Rated - Explicit

A Salty First Kiss by DarkMachi, Iwacakes

Summary: Izuku Midoriya's family beach trip went awry when an attempted act of heroism lets to an unexpected first.

Jumpcut to twelve years later: Izuku was struggling to stay afloat when his stepfather threw him a chance. What was meant to be a reprieve turned into something else entirely when he finds someone washed onto the beach. A memory he should have buried long ago, a kiss he could never forget, and a debt he could now repay.

Or.

What do you do when you have an angry Merman in your bathtub that speaks a different language?

Or.

What do you do when a stoopid hooman rescues you and then proceeds to start courting with you?

Complete | 101 CH | Contains Smut

Wavelength by gardengalaxy

Summary: Izuku practices surfing away from prying eyes, knowing he will have lots of attention on competition day. But what if he's already caught someone's interest?

One Shot | Trans Deku 

Rated - Explicit

A Breathless Song by chibicharlie95

Summary: Izuku loves the sea, so much so that he can never seem to part with it... But will he become a part of it? A siren's song in the middle of a storm may help him to find the answer.

One Shot | NSFW

what the water gave me by twinstarsies

Summary: "It's like I'm challenging fate," he says to a hermit crab he finds tucked into a crevice in the rock. "I'm daring it to knock me into the water just to show me who's boss. At this rate, it's probably going to win." 

"Something's gonna knock you into the water, alright, but it won't be anything as nebulous as fate," a voice says, tone wholly unamused. 

Izuku startles so hard that he forgets to use his quirk to catch himself as he slips from his perch on the rock into the ocean. 

— — —

Izuku goes on a forced vacation and meets the love of his life.

Complete | 2 Chapters

Contains Smut | Trans Midoriya

Call of the Siren by Gemsom

Summary: Izuku always imagined that sirens sang their victims into the water, and that their helpless victims could do nothing to resist. He almost wished that was the case.

Every time his captain’s ship crossed the narrow sea, Katsuki came to see him. The siren's friendship seemed so genuine, but Izuku was smart enough to know that the creature was sweet talking him to his death. Katsuki never denied it either - asking over and over for Izuku to offer his life.

Of course, Izuku had no way of knowing that the siren planed to give him a new one in return.

Incomplete | 9/18 Chapters | NSFW

Last Updated Jan. 2023

[certain-blue-eyes]

More Than Just Blood

(A/N)

This story is written for the HBO War Daily's Secret Santa and is a gift for you, @midnightjuly 😊 I hope you'll like it?! It's quite a bit different than I originally planned but you'll see...

Please keep in mind that I'm not a native speaker and I don't have a beta reader to go through the story. So please excuse any spelling or grammar mistakes.

Oh and - happy holidays y'all! Keep your blood clean and your teeth shiny and maybe you'll get your 'special kiss' too.

*wink, wink*

I'm just kidding. Have a great holiday. ⛄️🎄

~~~~~•~~~~~•~~~~~•~~~~~•~~~~~

Further infos are:

show: Band of Brothers

pairing: Ronald Speirs/Carwood Lipton (Speirton)

prompt: Vampire AU

rating: Mature (for safety 😉)

word count: 1838

tags:  Vampire AU ; a different kind of love story ; Strangers to Lovers ; Friends to Lovers ; Friendship ; Love ; First Kiss ; Hugs ; Awkwardness ; Awkward Conversations ; Carwood bites Ron ; Carwood is a Vampire ; Vampire Bites ; Human/Vampire Relationship ; HBOWarSanta2022 ; Prompt Fic

~~~~~•~~~~~•~~~~~•~~~~~•~~~~~

(Summary)

Ron is a young man who likes to walk the streets in the evening to enjoy the peace and quiet he can't find during the day. One evening he meets another man and they strike up a conversation. Their by chance encounter turns into deliberate meetings, and by their fourth time together at the latest, they both realize that they have been dating for a long time.

When Ron accompanies Carwood, the other man, home after their sixth date and cuts himself on the broken glass of the front door, Carwood shows a side of himself that Ron has never known before…

~~~~~•~~~~~•~~~~~•~~~~~•~~~~~

(Story)

It was a pleasant evening and Ron strolled through the streets. He enjoyed this peace and quiet, during the day he could not find it. Too much stress at work and always some drama among friends and acquaintances. Now nobody wanted anything from him and he could think about everything or nothing in peace.

He didn't walk long distances, rather just through the streets in the neighborhood where his apartment was. Tonight he had planned to order something to eat, walk there and pick it up. He had done just that and was now on his way back. Just before he was about to turn onto his street, another man approached him from a doorway. Ron looked up briefly, really just wanting to somehow get past the man, but something stopped him. What it was, he couldn't tell. The other man smiled and nodded at him and Ron couldn't help but smile back.

"Hi," the man said.

"Hey," Ron replied.

When Ron arrived at his apartment a good two hours later, the food he had ordered and picked up was cold, but he had met a nice young man.

~~~

The first time they decided to do something together, they went out for dinner. It was a nice evening. Relaxed, they sat at their table and told each other about themselves. They were actually the same age. Ron worked as a reporter for a newspaper, Carwood, the other man's name, worked as an insurance salesman. They both had intact families and a circle of decent friends.

The scheduled hour had turned into a full six hours. Ron and Carwood were kindly advised by the staff that the restaurant would now be closing. In good spirits and slightly tipsy, the two men left the restaurant and made their way back. They had figured out that they lived so close to each other the last time they met. Now they exchanged numbers and said goodbye with a smile and a wave. A second meeting would definitely take place.

~~~

Their second meeting took place two weeks later. They had a dinner again, but this time at a different and very distinguished restaurant. They had both dressed up very nicely for it. Plain black suits they both wore. Ron had chosen a plain light blue shirt, which he knew went very well with his dark brown hair and hazel eyes.

Carwood, who had light brown hair and blue eyes, had opted for a light gray shirt. Again, they sat together longer than they intended, and again they said goodbye with a smile and a wave as they parted.

Back at home, Ron had wondered why he had actually dressed up specially, for today's meeting. It was just a coming together between two men who got along very well on a friendly level. Or not?

~~~

Their third meeting, again two weeks later, was a meeting at the movies. Carwood had had reservations at first. But after some back and forth, he had decided that friends could also go to the movies. They had chosen one of the action movies and had gone out for dinner and drinks after the movie. They talked about the movie, about what they had experienced in the last few weeks and laughed about a very strange customer of Carwood.

It had been a fast food restaurant and nothing fancy, yet Carwood had felt like he was dining in a palace. When the cab dropped them off near their apartments and they said goodbye, it was different this time. They smiled at each other, but instead of just waving, Carwood opened his arms. It took a brief moment before Ron realized, but then he hugged Carwood. Somewhat awkwardly and slightly abashed, they disengaged from each other a moment later. Without another word, they walked to their apartments.

Once in his, Carwood immediately lay down after getting ready for bed. He didn't understand why he had become so restless over that short hug. Men could be seen hugging everywhere. Even just friends did it. Or not?

~~~

Their fourth meeting took place a week later. Considering that they had been writing to each other almost non-stop for the past few days, it was understandable why they were both very excited as the day of the meeting approached. They wouldn't admit it publicly, of course, but they felt like teenagers going on their first date. It was another restaurant meeting and as they waited for their orders, they cast furtive glances at each other. Ron cleared his throat as if to say something, but just at that moment the waitress came to the table with the plates. Ron remained silent and Carwood gave the waitress his attention. As soon as the waitress left, however, he looked at Ron. Ron was startled; he had been watching Carwood nonstop.

Carwood smiled and they began to eat. They didn't talk much, it was a strange atmosphere between them.

After they had eaten and the wine, red as blood, had lightened the mood a bit, Carwood cleared his throat.

"Ron, listen. It's really very nice to see you again, but I have a question."

"Mmm," was all Ron replied, yet he looked at Carwood intently.

"Sorry if this takes you by surprise now, but do you feel it too? This something between us? I really want to make sure we're both on the same page."

At first Ron looked at him motionlessly, then cleared his throat.

"No, Carwood, it's not just you. Yeah, I feel something, too. I just really don't know how to deal with it right now."

"Okay," Carwood said.

"You know, it's been a really long time since anyone's been this close to me. Can we leave it at this conversation for now?"

"Yes, of course," Carwood smiled. He raised his glass and toasted Ron. "Do we call it our first date then, though, or is that too much?"

"Carwood, this is not our first date."

~~~

Their fifth meeting had been unspectacular. Carwood had invited Ron to his home for the first time and they had had spaghetti with homemade tomato sauce. They had talked about all sorts of things, except for the topic of the last meeting, which Carwood had left out. So nothing special about this meeting - until the goodbyes came.

Ron had bent down to tie his shoes, but in coming up he lost his balance slightly and came unnaturally close to Carwood when he stood up straight again. Ron was a bit taller than Carwood and so he looked down at him. Carwood watched him, but made no move to take a step back. Ron raised his hand after just looking at Carwood for a moment and placed it against his cheek. Carwood arched slightly toward the hand. Ron took a shaky breath, then leaned forward a bit more and kissed Carwood. Carwood lifted his arms and put them around Ron's neck. He used them to pull him a little closer to himself.

It remained that one kiss, but when Ron turned around again at the stairs leading down, his heart was pounding. Later he would claim it was because of the light in the stairwell, but Carwood had an almost animalistic look in his eyes. Ron smiled at Carwood, but he did not return the smile. Somewhat confused, Ron left the house.

What he didn't know was that Carwood hadn't been able to smile back. When the latter had closed the apartment door behind him, he exhaled. As he opened his mouth to let more air into his body to calm it down, he felt that if he had smiled at Ron, he would not have been able to hold back his fangs.

~~~

Their sixth meeting took place at Ron's apartment. It had been three weeks after their last personal contact. Carwood had been on a training course, for a whole week, and they were therefore excited that they would now spend an evening together again.

They both didn't live in the best neighborhood, but they didn't live in the worst either. Most of the time it was quiet, but sometimes teenagers were running riot. So it was now at Ron's house, while he had gone to the station to pick up Carwood. The glass of the front door was completely shattered and Ron was careful not to cut himself on it. It all worked out, but when he went to close the door behind him and reached for the doorknob without really looking, a shard of glass bored into his hand.

"Ahh, damn," Ron cursed, louder than he meant to. He immediately tried to pull the splinter out, but it only seemed to push further into his hand. "Oh great," he muttered in annoyance, and ran past Carwood up the stairs. "You coming with me now?" he asked his companion on the way up. Carwood nodded, though he knew Ron wouldn't see him again. Slowly, and though not yet having climbed a flight of stairs, also breathing more heavily, Carwood walked after Ron. Arriving upstairs at the apartment, the door was open and Carwood stepped inside. Ron was standing at the sink and seemed to have gotten the splinter out. However, his palm was still bleeding a little. He turned and saw Carwood slowly close the door and slide the latch forward.

"Car, what are you doing?" asked Ron incredulously, laughing shortly. "You think anyone else is going to break in here today?" Carwood stood next to him at the sink and Ron shook his head. When had Carwood gotten there? Something sharp hit him in the neck, but before Ron could think about it further, he felt dizzy and seemed to sink to the floor.

When Ron regained consciousness, he was lying on his bed and Carwood was sitting on his thighs. Still a little dazed and feeling like he had two needles in his throat, he looked at Carwood.

"Dude, what was that? Are you okay?" Ron wanted to raise his left hand to check his neck to see what was poking, but found that his wrists were pinned to the bed frame. "What the hell was happening now?" thought Ron, looking incredulously at Carwood. The same expression as he had had back then in his eyes, Carwood leaned down and whispered in Ron's ear.

"Oh, everything's fine with me, and it'll be fine with you very soon too." There was a slight hiss when he spoke, and Ron did tear his eyes open in a bit of panic now.

"Ey, I just cut myself. It was just a little blood. You don't have to make a horror act out of it here."

"It's not a horror act, my dear." Carwood brushed Ron's hair out of his forehead, gave him a kiss on the cheek, and straightened up. He smiled, and Ron could see the snow-white fangs.

"What-" Ron began tonelessly, but Carwood interrupted him. He gently stroked Ron's thumb over the still sore spot on his throat.

"That's a lot more. More than just blood..."

[unrestrainedbalderdash]

I have another Riddler & Reader fanfic! It will have multiple chapters, you can read it on AO3 or read it below the cut :)

Disclaimers:

I'm very inexperienced when it comes to writing, I'm just an oriented aroace who's fuelled by desperation, spite and Riddler brainrot

Allos can interact but please be mindful that it isn't for you

I'm English so there may be language differences if you're American

Rating: This chapter is teen but in future the fic will probably be mature for some violence and trauma

Warnings: Swearing, near-death experience, kidnapping kind of (it's a little complicated, but it's not as scary or anything)

Reader insert info: Vigilante, Batfam member, not good at riddles, a bit of an idiot

Word count: 2571

You hold the cape tighter around you as you glance over the case files. You glare at the jigsaw pieces, your hands shaking too much to put them together well. Alfred comes down the service elevator, his tray carrying two mugs. “Thank you!” you say, taking the hot chocolate, as Batman gives a little grunt of appreciation and starts sipping the coffee. Alfred gives a little shiver. “Sir, might I suggest we have a check in with our old friend Victor?” “Hmh. Batcomputer, which inmates are in Arkham?” Batman asks. You manage to put two of the pieces of the sprawling jigsaw together as the computer lists off people registered as currently in Arkham. You let out a sigh of frustration, hoping that soon the Riddler will be on that list. Batman scowls at the screen. “That’s odd. Energy readings in his cell are lower than usual. It’s night time, the inmates should be sleeping,” he says. “He’s escaped?” you say, taking a sip of the hot chocolate and letting the marshmallows flow onto your tongue. “Well, I do believe we know who our culprit is,” Alfred says. “Freeze willingly admitted himself into Arkham. He seemed regretful of everything and wanting the help. Why would he now escape?” Batman asks. You take a long sip of the hot chocolate and look at Batman – any excuse to take your eyes off of that damned puzzle with its garish colours. He looks at you. “I’ll investigate. Get some rest,” Batman says. You and Alfred start to go upstairs. You can hear the roar of the Batmobile below you, but as soon as you cross the threshold into Wayne Manor, you can’t hear it anymore.

That night, you dream of the Riddler. He’s laughing, and you run after him, but he’s always out of reach. You leap at him desperately, and shatter on the ground into tiny little jigsaw pieces. He starts putting them together, forming the word idiot – stupid – fool – it is constantly changing. When you wake up, you are shivering. You realise this is not from the dream, but is from the cold.

The next days are a blur. Crime is soaring, and you spend most of the time alone in the Batcave, with Alfred frequently coming down with warm drinks, snacks, and encouragement. Sometimes Batman comes back, hot on the trail of Mr Freeze. Occasionally, Robin comes in after going on patrol. You wish Oracle was available to help. She’s a genius. But there are serious threats with danger to life, while all the Riddler has been doing is draining bank accounts every day, something which can easily be reversed once he is stopped. With every bank account, the owner logs into the website only to find that instead of their balance, they see a riddle. You’re pondering the answers as you glare at the geometric shapes on the jigsaw.

Wait… they look like… a map…

On the largest segment you’ve assembled, you recognise it as your favourite park you used to go to. Before.

You think about the answers to the riddles. You have a hunch. And you’re going to act on it. That night, after Alfred sees the dark circles under your eyes and sends you to bed, you sneak back into the Batcave. This is your chance to prove yourself. This is your chance to finally meet an A-list Rogue. You’re walking out of the Batcave, running, tightly holding your cape around you. The air is chillier as you get deeper into the city. You hear the crunching of snow beneath your feet. Teeth chattering, you glance back, and see the footprints are gone, already filled in with more snow. You have to persist. You can’t tell if you’re on the grass yet. The snow is too deep and you can’t feel the texture of the ground. Now you can’t feel your feet. The crunch of the snow is slowing. You can barely see through all of the snow. Snowflakes are falling all around, and your cape is covered in white, as you can finally see something through the white of the blizzard. You will your arm to move, and it creeps forward, getting closer to the door, closer… closer… closer…

Stop.

Stripes of warmth streak across your face. You will yourself to make your brain fire signals that cause your eyelids to slowly, slowly creep open, painstakingly slow, too slow, it’s like there’s no energy left in your body. You see… him. His gloveless hands are stroking both sides of your face, filling it with warmth. You want to yell at him, insult him for tormenting you with that hellish jigsaw puzzle, but your mouth sluggishly opens then hangs there as no sound comes out. The Riddler’s face is so close to yours, his breath warm on your skin. Your eyes start twitching as he continues gently rubbing your cheeks. You want to move away from this villain who has you at his mercy, but you can’t even feel the rest of your body. It is evident that some colour has returned to your face, as he takes his hands away, and takes your gloves off, beginning to hold your hands. Warmth floods through them. You try to tell him to go away, but instead you make a pathetic little whimper. He strokes your hands. “Shh. You have the honour, the privilege of having your life saved by the Prince of Puzzles. I haven’t taken your mask off, it would be too easy to reveal the identity of an idiot like you when I can easily deduce your identity by myself,” he says, the warmth of his hands filling your hands, and the condescension of his words filling your mind with the urge to smack him. “Come on, how foolish, little Bat! We’re in a one digit temperature! You seriously expected you could waltz into my lair wearing nothing but that silly outfit?” He gives a condescending laugh. Your face heats up, a mixture of rage and embarrassment. “Good, that’ll thaw you out.” He smirks. You can’t take how insufferable he is, and you start to move your arm, willing your blood to try and flow through the arteries and make the muscles start moving, rising – he tightly grips your wrist, and uses his fingers to unclench your fist. You glare at him as you can’t stop your fingers from sinking into his. “Ah, ah, ah, vigilante! You wouldn’t be planning to hit me, would you?” he says, a cheeky smile on his incredibly punchable face. His purple mask is creasing at the eyes. “Jig… saw… fuck… you…” you say, the words finally coming out of your mouth. It doesn’t even feel like you’re talking. He gives a little chuckle. “Oh my, you’ve taken a long time, haven’t you? I would have assembled it all a week ago! Anyway, little Bat, I can’t have you trying to hit me, even if I am irresistible,” he says, a smug smile on his face. He gets up for a bit and goes to a drawer, as you try desperately to wiggle your fingers and get the blood rushing back to your arm. You need to hit this smug man. He strides back over to you, and catches your sluggish fist with ease, enveloping it with his warmth. He hooks a handcuff around your fist, and closes it, before cuffing the other hand. Your arms droop down as soon as he lets go of the bulky cuffs. “The little Bat isn’t strong enough for some measly handcuffs? My, my, they let anyone be a vigilante these days,” he says, with a little chuckle. You grimace, and his expression softens a little. He pats you on the head with his warm hand. In his other hand is a remote control. “There’s a reason why it’s so heavy. I wouldn’t put you through meaningless suffering, little Bat,” he says, pressing the button. Instantly, you feel warmth flowing into your wrists. You can feel your glare melt away as the warmth spreads through your arms. “There we are. That’ll warm you up!” he says, clapping his hands together and giving a little smile, “Isn’t it ingenious?” His mask widens. He’s giving puppy eyes. “What do you… want…” “For one of the Bat-Kids not to die on the doorstep of my secret hideout? How old even are you, anyway?” “Not… a kid!” “It doesn’t matter, you’re a mere child compared to me. What are you doing up so late on a school night?” “Man… child!”

He feigns an offended look. At least, you hope he’s feigning it. What if he isn’t? “S-sorry,” you say, the thoughts getting the better of you. He gives a little laugh. “It was a joke, child child,” he says, giving you another headpat. Now that you’ve given up on the idea of punching him in the face, you have to appreciate the warmth and softness of his hands. You can feel your body again as the warmth spreads. He gives a little smile and ruffles your hair. “You’re the most adorable person I’ve ever kidnapped.” You tense up, cold dread rushing through you, but it makes a lot of sense. Why would he just let you go? His eyes scan your expression. “Hey. I’m not as lowly as such cretins as the Joker. I won’t be hurting you. I don’t need to, I could easily defeat you in a battle of wits.” You pause. “Kid, you were unconscious an hour. Frozen. In that time, I invented these heated handcuffs especially for you with my genius wit, all the while trying to keep your body warm enough for you to not die. Would I go through all of that trouble just to kill you?” he says, a sincere look on his face.

“That bloody jigsaw was killing me,” you say. He lets out a laugh. “How long did it take for you to put it together and solve it?” “I didn’t put it all together. I had a section of around 30 pieces done, and realised it was a map. I was thinking about the riddles in the bank account hackings, and I had a hunch.” “A hunch?! You came out here in a blizzard on a hunch?!” he says, incredulous, “I don’t know if I should laugh or be concerned!” You look away, embarrassed. He puts his warm hand on your shoulder. “Well… it was the right hunch. Even though you were incredibly foolish. I haven’t heard of you, so I’m assuming you’re new. Don’t take risks like that until you’ve got some experience under your belt.” You glance down, and see that he has removed your utility belt. You glance around the room. The walls are made of the building’s original stone, but filled with electrical gizmos and lights, and covered in writing and little doodles in green. There are drawings of Batman in increasingly comical deathtraps.

“What… will you do to me?” you ask. “Well, I’ll be keeping you hostage. As soon as it’s warm enough to leave the building, I’ll be using you as bait to lure Batman into my clutches,” he says. “I’ll be keeping you alive and well while we bide our time.” You have a sinking feeling. You’re his hostage now. You didn’t even get chance to say goodbye. “My… they’re gonna be worried about me…” you say, voice cracking a little. You wince; it hurts your throat. “I w-went here without telling anyone…” He gives a little chuckle, then sees the look on your face. He instantly softens. “I’ll send Batman a riddle, okay? If he can wrap his head around it then he’ll know you’re alive and… as well as can be, considering you almost froze to death.” He gently pats your shoulder, giving a smile that seems to have gentleness behind it. The moment lasts for a few seconds, then he speaks again. “Kid, you look exhausted. I’ll get sleeping arrangements sorted.”

He walks off, and you wait, basking in the warmth of the handcuffs. You can feel the faint chill around you, and eventually, he returns. He’s changed outfit now, wearing a green flannel robe, with purple question marks inside each square in the pattern, and matching pyjama bottoms. You can see a matching buttoned top peeking through the robe. It feels weird, seeing him without the hat on, or the mask, instead wearing rectangular glasses. He’s holding more clothes in his arms, and takes you to a little bathroom, with no windows. He undoes your handcuffs, and gives you the clothes. “I’ll leave you a little privacy now. Don’t you dare escape,” he says, smirking at the end. He leaves you to do your business and get changed.

You leave the bathroom in the soft, warm flannel. He immediately grabs your wrist and handcuffs you again. He lets out a little chuckle at how baggy the pyjamas are on you, and ruffles your hair. You glare at him, but can’t deny that his hands are warm. You’re still wearing your mask, and you have to admit that you probably look very silly. He leads you to the bedroom, and takes you to a little mattress at the side of a large bed, with question mark carvings. He puts his hand on your head and pushes you down onto the mattress, a little smile on his face. “Did you want the proper bed?” he asks, a smug smile on his face, and the hints of a laugh coming through his voice. “Honestly, I’d sleep on the floor if it meant you’d have to sleep on the floor,” you reply, some of your irritation returning. He may be warm, but he is still insufferable, and you think you might dream about punching him in the face tonight. He lets out a little chuckle. “Too bad! Because it doesn’t! Tell you what, how about I ask you a riddle, and if you get it right, you can choose the sleeping arrangement. There are twenty people at a party who will only shake hands with someone bigger than them. How many handshakes occur?” he asks. You think for a while. “190?” He laughs like a man with Joker Gas. “190?! 190?! Ha! The answer is 0! Once again, I win!” You snarl at him. He giggles, and ruffles your hair again. “Calm down, angry dog! You should have known you wouldn’t win!” The Riddler walks over to the door, and starts placing lines of string everywhere. “I could just leave you to whatever escape attempt you’ve been concocting in that mind of yours, but I’m starting to doubt you have one. I’m not so heartless as to let you die in the cold. If you’re so intent on going out to die, you’ll have to sneak past these. I look forward to waking up in the middle of the night to the alarm.”

Eventually, the room is surrounded by string. He gives a smug smile, and turns his attention back to you. He wraps you in a fluffy blanket, and puts thick bedcovers on top of you, tucking you in. You feel so snug, and you have to admit it’s so toasty and warm. He gets onto his own bed, covering himself in several blankets. He looks down at you, a smile on his face, and turns off the light. Unable to escape, you decide to let sleep come, and drift off.

[kooksbunnnn]

Love Language - Min Yoongi

masterlist

Summary: Just Yoongi and his love language. 

Warnings: MATURE CONTENT. Kissing, heavy making out, fingering, mentions of squirting, unprotected sex (please don't), Yoongi's long fingers, big dick Yoongi, mentions of Namjoon third wheeling. Porn with plot but mostly porn. Marriage au.

Words: 3.8k

Ratings: 18+

•••

Waking up on a Sunday without your husband's warmth around you makes you whine into your pillow. You turn around to feel his side of the bed, and you feel it's still warm. He must've woken up not long before you did. You go down the stairs to find him in his study, busy on his phone, probably talking to Namjoon according to the dongsaeng-but-formal tone he is using. 

Seeing him in those black sleeping shorts and the incorrectly buttoned up white shirt you tore off of him last night sends a tingle between your legs. You almost throw your head back in need when he puts on his glasses, pushing his hair back trying to find something on his desk.

When he sees you standing there, he hangs up telling Namjoon he will call him after he finds whatever he was trying to find, hanging up he smiles at you. "Hey, have you seen the black binder you gifted me some months ago?" He asks with his eyes and hands busy on his table.

Lifting his head he notices your confused expression so he stops to explain with his hands. "Yay big and yay high, it was gold plated on the ends?" You look at his description and immediately recognize the binder, the one you gifted him for the aesthetic of his file drawer. Black and gold. 

"Yes that is in the bed room lemme get it for you." he nods at your statement smiling and you run and bring the binder back. When you come back you see him clutching his hair in his hands and oh his hands. 

The veins, making you want him to wrap his hands around your neck while he fucks you- No.

Get it together Y/N, its 10 am in the morning! Although the morning pound down doesn't sound bad, he seems very busy.

A kiss doesn't sound bad though.

You walk towards him bringing his file behind your back with a smile, he hears your footsteps and turns towards you with a smile.

"Thankyou baby." He says in his oh-so raspy voice and you melt. He reaches out to take it from you but you lift both of your arms to wrap them around him, the file still in your hand. He giggles and kisses you, his hands finding their way to your ass. Squeezing your flesh to make you moan with him still attached to your lips.

"Good morning to you too Y/N." Speaks a bored voice from the speaker of your husband's phone and you detach from his face with wide eyes trying to get away but he pulls you towards him with a lazy smirk on his face. You hit your husband playfully but embarrassed and also answer the greetings from your friend.

"Hey, u-um good morning Joon. Didn't know you were on a call and I'm sorry I should probably go."

"No no nothing so urgent that I should be a cockblock. Call me later hyung. Happy humps." Without giving your husband a chance to retaliate at the hump comment he hangs up and you smile guiltily at your husband.

"Yeah. I'm gonna smack this little motherfucker's head for this mmph-" you cut him off his rant as you kiss him again, giving him the lead as soon as he slips his tongue in. Moaning at the way he grabs your hair at the nape, biting onto your lower lip making you gasp. 

He traces his hand down your spine to reach the hem of his oversized T-shirt you borrowed last night and he swears it's hotter taking it off than any of the dresses he's ripped off of you. 

He lifts it up to your waist and ties it in a knot, you watch his long fingers make a knot just below your breasts and then trace them along your waistline "Wanted to fuck you in my T-shirt but didn't want it to come in the way so." He shrugs at the end of the sentence and you chuckled before being cut off by getting turned and bent over the desk suddenly. 

He bends down to the level of your cunt with a knowing smile and keeps one of his hands over your lower back to keep you in place. The cold desk wood under your tummy makes you hiss, but it turns into a short moan when he spreads your ass cheeks and runs his index finger between them over your damp folds.

He pushes his finger with pressure to tease you over the cloth making you squirm in place. Your heels rise making you tip toe when he drags his fingers towards your clit with the same pressure. 

"Fucking ready. Every fucking time." He grits out to himself and you let out a small whine at his delay, squirming in place. He scoffs at your impatience and pulls your underwear down, slow and teasing. 

"Baby, please" you whine at his slow movements but he suddenly slaps at your clit making you jolt. 

"Impatient huh?" You nod and breathe shakily at the sting but feel more wetness drizzle out, moaning at the feeling. 

"Look at that" he pushes two fingers in you and you both groan at the same time. You feel like you will curl up due to the feeling his fingers give when he twists them and rubs them around like he is trying to find something and oh-

He does. He fucking does. 

Your knees buckle when he finds that spot and you start panting when he keeps rubbing the spongy area. Cooing at your whimpering self, he picks up his pace, rubbing and jabbing your spot making your head go dizzy at the pressure. You try lifting yourself up but his hand's pressure tells you to take it just like he is giving it to you. 

A vibration causes you to flinch and you see him get up and flip his phone towards him to check the caller id. Panicked you pull yourself up to convince him to not pick up the phone, making him slip his fingers out in the process. 

"Yoongi don't you dar-" but before you could finish your sentence, he motions you to stay silent with his finger on his lips. You shake your head knowing you couldn't stay silent while he talks if he goes anyway further than his fingers still hovering over your entrance.

A voice booms from the phone on the table which kinda replicates yours, but with a different reason of panting. You guess he is running around. 

"Hyung, I am so sorry but you need to call and decide the order and topics for the four presenters for tomorrow.." the rest of the voices go deaf around your ears when Yoongi stuffs his fingers in your pussy and covers your mouth at the same time, muffling the gasp. 

He scoffs in your ear and whispers in his low raspy voice, "Pathetic little slut." Jabbing his fingers harder at every word. He changes the angles of his fingers making you clench and roll your eyes back. You hold his wrist over your mouth for dear life while he holds your body in place. 

You feel tears brim in your eyes as he hits the spot again and again and again. Your legs shake and you tighten around his fingers and he chuckles at your ministrations, he knows you like this. Every time Namjoon speaks you try to keep your voice in and it gets you wetter at the thought of getting caught. 

You snap out of the daze when he speaks addressing the younger business partner, "Joon I requested Y/N to attend the party next week and I think she wants to come" he licks your earlobe at the end of the statement and you nod vigorously.

Bringing his hand to the front he rubs your clit with three of his fingers, making you spread your legs out of instinct. You buck your hips and try grinding on his fingers chasing your high, the rush in your ears blocking out any kind of conversation around you. 

You start feeling the telltale of the upcoming orgasm and your body shakes and twitches when the heat passes out of you. Your eyes roll back to your head when he bites on your earlobe, removing his hand from your lips and you watch him hang up. 

You have no clue when the conversation ended but your shaking body falls on the table and you cry out. He slows his hand down to let you ride your high while you grind on his fingers absentmindedly rolling your hips, eyes squeezed shut as you breathe heavily. 

He removes his hand and smiles at you when you turn your head to glare at him, breathing heavily.

He helps you stand up and hold you by your waist when your knees buckle and has this shit-eating grin on his face. Pulling you towards him he gives you an open-mouthed kiss but you push him away panting. "Fuck you, Min. What if he heard something?!" He chuckles and grabs you by the waist tucking your hair behind your ear, tilting his head to make better eye contact. 

"Then he would hear how I make you cry when you come." His low and deep voice sends cold shivers in your lower back.

"I gotta work now baby, or Namjoon will physically come here and make me do it." He pats your butt to get you going but you raise your eyebrows at him before nodding down to the boner he has. He laughs and holds your cheeks making your lips pout. 

"As tempting as you sucking me off sounds, I would rather fuck you." He gives your pouted lips a chaste kiss before letting you go but you step forward and kiss him while grabbing his dick over his shorts making him growl in your mouth. 

"Fuck me good babe. I'll be waiting."

"Oh I will." He grins, shaking his head while watching you turning around, knot still above your ass and you make your way out of the room with your ass on full display. Groaning he turns his head towards his desk and then looks at his dick. 

Yeah. A cold shower. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You gave him the whole day, trying to distract yourself with the work you had left incomplete and sending it to your HR, changing the bed sheets, sending your blazers to dry cleaning since it was a sick leave for your housemaid, buying grocery and bringing him his usual box full of tangerines and snacks with some beer to store in for football-match-with-the-boys-wuhoo! As Jungkook said.

It was 5:38 in the evening when you were cleaning the kitchen after having your second cup of coffee when you see him enter the room rubbing his neck. You felt really bad for him when you made eye contact with his tired ones, he took a shower and changed his clothes into a clean pair of black sweatpants and a white T-shirt.

He padded across the room to reach towards you to kiss you. Kissing him back you giggle and pull away, asking him softly, "Have you even eaten anything, baby?" He immediately nods to your question and lists the amount of frozen food he microwaved since you were not home.  

Shaking your head at him you say, "Yoongi, you did know I made some shrimp sandwiches for you? I texted you about that too."

He looks back at the kitchen counter and finds an oven tray covered with plastic wrap filled with some sandwiches. Chuckling he lets go of you and sits on the black stool matching the breakfast counter.

"Sorry, I guess I was distracted with work, I just finished the sorting process for tomorrow's meeting with Namjoon, and he was constantly making sure that he was making the right decisions. This deal means a lot to him and I merely got 5 minutes of time when It hit 2:30 and I was horny, hungry, and exhausted at the same time. Wanted to fuck you so bad, baby, but then I didn't see you at home so I had to suffice my other biological needs..." rolling his eyes he continues. 

"Sorry I couldn't eat the sandwiches." He looks at you with guilty eyes and you couldn't help but smile at him. He didn't need to explain anything but he elaborated the reasons why he couldn't eat the sandwiches?

You did marry a gentleman.

You step towards him and kiss his cheek. Flicking away the long hair that was coming into his eyes as you say, "Listen, baby, you don't need to explain anything. I know how much this means to you and Joon so please don't apologize. I just wanna know you're resting enough to not get exhausted. Okay?" He nods at your statement and you bend to kiss his lips while standing between his knees, his hands automatically coming up to your waist. 

You don't realize when the kiss became hungrier, was it at the first groan you let out? Or the moment he pushed his tongue in and took control in his hand? Neither of you care about what led you to jump into his arms when he took you to the master bedroom removing your summer dress and his t-shirt in the hallway.

Laying you down on the bed, he hovers over your red flushed face. "Gonna make you cum so much, we would need to dry off the mattress." You chuckle at this and he gives you an open-mouthed kiss, making his way down licking and kissing all the way down from your neck to the collarbones, through the valley of your breasts, tweaking your nipples a couple of times before taking them into his mouth. 

Gasping at the warmth from his tongue around the bud you grab the sheets beside your head with one hand and the other finds home in his hair making him growl. He leaves your nipples and traces his way with his tongue over your clothed pussy. 

Instead of teasing this time he pulls the underwear all the way to your ankles before throwing it into some dark corner of the room. The dusk hours make the yellowish brown lights reflect on your honey skin, leading him to bite into your thighs while pressing his thumb over your clit. 

Your impatient whine makes him determined to make you come hard, he loved teasing you but loves to watch you fall apart for him. So he digs in with his tongue tracing patterns all over your folds and your bundle of nerves which you couldn't decipher due to the soon entering fingers inside you, the cold sensation of his ring, and the stretch feeling heavenly, you know you wouldn't last long this time. 

He finds a rhythm in which he feels you tightening around his fingers and lets out a chuckle at the way you were clenching. "I know you're close baby, come for me. Make a mess on my fingers." And as if on call, your body spasms and he rubs your clit with his other hand making your body curl up. He stares at the way your cunt flutters and almost drools after he pulls his fingers out, watching it drizzle your sweet slick. Bending down he licks up a stripe over your pussy making you gasp. 

"Yoongi- s-sensitive. P-please." You gasp but still roll your hips trying to match his tongue. He hums pushing his tongue inside you and you almost feel it in your stomach. Your body arches as he swirls his warm muscle inside your hole and Yoongi groans at the taste and the thought of you clenching on his cock.

You feel the heat building up again at the slow pace he is licking you up at, not overwhelming your nerves but instead making them feel at ease and when he sees your limbs shaking he looks up and smirks at you who was already watching him eat you out. He winks at you and increases the pace of his tongue flicking at your clit.

You gasp at how he is making you feel the heat in your ears and toes, stretching your feet and tightening your muscles to reach the orgasm faster, your hands fly in directions to hold on to something.

"F-Fuck, don't stop-don't stop-don't stop. Fuck b-baby!" You cry out grabbing onto his hair with wide eyes, mind focusing on achieving that high. His groans make you reach it faster.

The constant flicking along with his long firm fingers rubbing your folds with pressure without entering, just massaging it to make it feel the pressure and pleasure makes you come and he pushes his tongue inside you at that exact moment making your eyes roll back. Your legs try to snap shut but he holds them open. Your legs shake continuously and you feel yourself ooze out a little bit of your soul. 

He gets up with a gummy smile on his face making you laugh and you both start laughing when he hovers above you. "You really boost my ego baby, I mean, coming so much. I must be doing something right?"

He sounds cocky but you know he is saying the truth, nobody has ever made you feel like he does, emotionally, physically, and mentally safe. 

"Wanna taste?" He asks you with mischief in his cat-like eyes and you nod with dizzy eyes, making his eyes darken, keeping eye contact he dips one of his hands and pushes inside you making you gasp a little which he mocks by gasping in a high-pitched voice and smirking later at your wide and embarrassed eyes.

He lifts his finger up and spreads it apart to show you the strings your slick creates between his fingers, you push your tongue out and he smirks, proud. "My filthy baby." He pushes those fingers in your mouth rubbing the taste of your cum on your tongue. Groaning at the taste you swirl your tongue around his digits, which he watches with dark eyes. 

He pulls the fingers out and wipes them on your cheeks, grabbing your face with his fingers he opens up your mouth. "Now for the main course." Spitting in your mouth he watches you moan at the feeling and gulp it in, for which he kisses you, proudly. 

He gets up and removes his sweatpants and you feel your mouth water at him pumping his dick while watching your cunt leak. He smiles when you spread your legs wider and hover above you, tilting your face towards his, making eye contact, he enters you slowly and you feel your body arch at the girth of his cock. 

Min Yoongi has been the best dick you've been fucked by, with the perfect length, perfect width, and the prettiest features. Pretty, just like him. He knows you have a thing for eye contact, he observed this in the first 3 months of the relationship when you couldn't hold his stare, he knew it would turn you on while he fucked you, he loved seeing you squirm so it made his dick hard too. You proved his theory when he fingered you in front of the mirror making eye contact and making you watch yourself come undone for him, surprising him by squirting on his fingers. Just Perfect. 

Your eyes widen and he shakily exhales. "Fuck. You're so perfect and so wet. Reminds me of your mouth. You're warm on every end, baby." He grits through his teeth but none of his words reach you when his hips start hammering you into the mattress. 

He fucks you slow taking in every expression, watching your eyes roll back, dragging his cock slower making you scratch his back with your nails. Groaning in your ear his strokes getting hard and fast, hard and short, he tries every angle he loves seeing you twitch in. He pulls up both your legs over his waist, still fucking in at a slow-hard-deep pace and you whine loudly making him grab your thigh at the control he is showing not to bust at your voice's high pitch and neediness. 

"Fuck Yoongi, right there. Right there. Faster, please. I'm gonna die if you don't go any faster. Make me come please make me." He looks at you and you clench, growling at the tight grip you have around him, he gives you what you want. Faster-harder-deeper. Your body jolts back at every stroke but the expression on your face makes him lose his control, he grabs both your hands and pins them beside your head.

Your body arches into his, your nipples touching his bare chest, you cry out in pleasure, walls spasming and tightening around him. 

"Gonna come. Y/N fuck baby" he growls in your ear while you say his name like a mantra, digging your nails in your palms. You both come at the same time making you tremble in his hold and feet digging in his lower back. He bites your neck when he feels you lifting your hips meeting his strokes to reach the end of both your highs. 

Slowing down when you whine in overstimulation, he pulls out. You both stay there watching the lights on the ceiling which were never turned on and you realize, it's dark outside. Checking the digital clock you see it's been more than 35 minutes since you entered the room. You laugh at the heavy breaths you and your husband are letting out but soon you cringe because of the sticky sheets under you. 

"You need to change them this time, I just did them in the afternoon, Min."

"Let me breathe a second woman? Why are you so bossy?" He gets up feigning annoyance but you hear the breathy chuckle he lets out. You roll your eyes at his accusations while he helps you get up, laughing at the faces you make when you feel the warm sheets mixed with the weird temperatured cum. 

After-care with warm showers and thigh massages was an important part of the sexual routine you and Min Yoongi had, but the best part? The best part was when he feeds you the food he cooks with so much love and furrowed eyebrows due to the concentration he has in that apron with a cat with its middle finger out, the intense amount of attention towards the dish makes him unconsciously poke his tongue out through his lips while he plates the dish. 

Bringing you a pair of fresh wooden chopsticks and wine, his face smeared with flour as he made you some fresh and greasy kimchi jeon. You know he loves cooking you food but would never admit it. 

So, not wanting you to do much after the sweat session, he just cockily said 'Don't strain your already jelly-like legs, you tiny human.' Which secretly means, rest because you're sore. He is not very outspoken about his feelings so he might seem a little concealed, it's just that, he has a different language for love, he just needed somebody to decode it.

Luckily, it's you.

I'M IN LOVE WITH THE DILF MIN YOONGI. GONNA GET THIS PICTURE TATTOOED ON MY BOOB.

[sirowsky]

Christmas Special 2

So, apparently, all it takes for my brain (heart) to decide to ignore all the writing that I'm supposed to do, and focus solely on this, is just two people expressing an interest in reading more about these characters. I live to serve you, my loves.

Description: This is a direct continuation of Pero and Genie's story, digging a little deeper into their pasts as they begin to get to know each other. And this one managed to come out quite fluffy overall.

Rating: Mature 18+ONLY Warnings: Some Christmas themes, cursing, mild angst, family dispute, descriptions of scars, implied/vaguely described smut, fluff, happy ending. Modern!pero, pero tovar x reader. No use of y/n. Dual perspectives. Word Count: 9334 Link to Part 1

Author’s Masterlist

When you left the shower, having only pulled on an oversized t-shirt since it would’ve felt strange to just walk up to him completely naked, you found him sitting on the edge of your bed, wearing only his underwear and dress-shirt. He’d unbuttoned the sleeves and the first three buttons from the top and when he saw you, he got up and gestured for you to take the bed. He’d promised to make you feel good, so you walked up to him and kissed him, thinking you should let him know that you hadn’t changed your mind, and like before, he wasn’t shy about reciprocating, but only for a few moments, before he pulled back.

“Is it okay if I take off my shirt? I find it hard to sleep in clothes. If I manage to twist them around me, I sometimes feel like I’m being tied up or choked, and it can trigger some really bad memories and cause nightmares.”

That made your mind shift gears. Suddenly you were wondering if those things had ever happened to him, but more to the point at that moment; if you were about to have sex, why would he worry about you disapproving that he undressed? He noticed your confusion but offered no further explanation. He just stood there, patiently waiting for you to decide if you were comfortable with him undressed.

“Uh, sure you can. Whatever you need.”

He gave you a small smile, before getting started on the remaining buttons, and you felt weird just standing there, now that you weren’t sure what was gonna happen between you, so you sat down on the bed while he shrugged off the shirt. For a few seconds, you almost regretted letting him do that, when you saw the many scars that adorned his torso and arms. He kept his eyes turned away from you while he carefully folded the shirt and put it on the same chair where he’d put his other clothes, and you got the distinct impression that it had nothing to do with him being self-conscious about his appearance. He seemed perfectly at ease and as he moved, you got to see every angle of his body, and it was as though he was giving you a moment of privacy. A chance to really look and try to understand what you were seeing. You’d noticed the scar over his eye, obviously, but these were so much worse, and now that you were really looking, you noticed a few marks on his legs too. Cuts, bullet-holes, burns, surgical scars. Whatever branch of the military he’d been a part of it had to be something specialized. Something he probably couldn’t talk about, and more than likely, nothing you really wanted to know about. Suddenly his taciturn behaviour took on a different meaning. But when that first shock had settled, you realised that you didn’t find the marks of his earlier life disgusting or off-putting in any way. You hated seeing them only because you hated knowing that people had hurt him. He let you absorb what you were seeing, before he came to the bed and climbed in behind you, holding the duvet back so that you could settle in too. And he looked entirely unbothered. As though he just knew that you wouldn’t react badly to seeing things like that. You laid down on your back at first, and he chuckled softly.

“Well, that won’t do.”

He was on his side, facing you, and gently coaxed you over on your side as well, before cuddling up behind your back, wrapping his arm around your waist and sliding the other one under your pillow. You felt like there were enough butterflies in your stomach to keep you awake all night, but then he kissed the spot behind your ear before his whole body turned heavy and relaxed, and you suddenly felt just how tired you were. He was so soft and yet somehow solid behind you. Like a brick wall covered in cottonwool. And you felt safe. Not just safe in the sense that you weren’t in danger, but safe to leave your heart with this man. Safe to trust him, lean on him, and that was something you hadn’t felt in a very long time.

You woke up on Christmas eve, warm and relaxed and better rested than you’d felt in many long years. For a minute you just laid there, staring out over your bedroom in contented inactivity, until you remembered that you hadn’t fallen asleep alone. And suddenly a sharpness passed through you, at the thought that he wouldn’t be there. But it made you tense, which meant a slight movement in your muscles, and then you felt him there. Still snuggled up right behind you, his arm still resting over your waist underneath the duvet. Your skin was just so used to the contact after an entire night like that, that you’d stopped feeling him. He stirred in his sleep, and his arm tightened around you while his nose bumped into the back of your head, and you smiled. How utterly strange the past twelve hours had been. Disastrous and wonderful, all mixed into the same bowl. It was still early, you knew that by the way the light tried to slip past your blinds, a sight most familiar to you, and you wanted to stay in bed and keep sleeping just because you could. Just because the bed wasn’t empty for once. But your right side was aching from having been pressed into the mattress all night, so you shifted yourself onto your back and turned on your other side, facing your sleeping companion. You weren’t sure what he really was to you yet, but when he noticed your movement and the slight distance it put between you, his instinctive reaction was to reach for you and pull you into his chest again, and that made you hope that he was all yours from now on. You pulled your head back to keep looking at his face, so much more relaxed than you were used to seeing it, and a tremendous warmth settled into your entire being at the thought that you might’ve been what made him feel so comfortable. Shit. That meant that you already had very strong feelings for him. And that was dangerous. It was a risk you’d always be willing to take, and it wasn’t nearly enough to make you second-guess your decision to let him come home with you, especially when he’d been so decent about it, but you still needed to acknowledge to yourself that it was indeed a risk. You tucked your head back in under his chin and wrapped your free arm around him to stroke his back. You could feel the ridges and unfamiliar textures of his scars, and you trailed them carefully, trying to learn them. Any one of them could possibly have killed him, meaning none of this would’ve happened, and that made them precious, in a way.

*****

Pero was lucky enough to still have good sleep despite his many traumatic experiences and horrendous memories. And they did occasionally keep him up for a few days straight, if he was unusually stressed or upset for some reason. But those nights were rare, and he was very grateful for that. He thought that it was perhaps because he was largely at peace with his own past. He’d never done anything that he hadn’t felt was the right thing to do in the moment, and he felt confident that those that had died by his hands had not been good people. He had no illusions about humanity, as he’d seen the very darkest parts of it. He knew that some people simply had no place in this world and shouldn’t be allowed to pollute it with their depravity, and he was fine with having been a person that had dispatched some of those soulless beings into the eternal void. But that was also what allowed him to truly see and appreciate the opposite, even if he usually did so quietly. The good and beautiful people that humanity was equally adept at producing. People like you. He hadn’t slept next to anyone in a long time, but he knew that it usually calmed him. And this time, sleeping next to someone he had such strong feelings for, with the hope that you might feel the same, he’d slept so heavily that he hadn’t even noticed when you’d turned over. But when he did eventually wake, it was to the feel of your fingertips as they familiarised themselves with his body, and he’d never felt more at ease. You weren’t the sort of person that would shy away from someone based on physical things, he’d known that from seeing how you’d interacted with people with various types of afflictions, from amputees to people with cancer or skin-diseases. And he’d once watched you entertain a group of children with downs syndrome for a whole hour, looking absolutely overjoyed the entire time. Having to stare at security feeds for hours and hours had its advantages, from time to time. You hadn’t noticed that he was awake yet, so you flinched a little when he suddenly spoke.

“Did I keep my promise?”

You pulled your head back to meet his eyes, and the smile on your face was so wide and happy that it sent flutters of something wonderful and completely unidentifiable, through his body.

“You did. I felt good all night long. Thank you.”

“My pleasure. And I mean that quite literally.”

“Good.”

“So, what do you wanna do today?”

“Honestly? I don’t even wanna leave this bed. I don’t care if all we do is talk and nap and maybe watch a movie. I just wanna keep feeling like this all day.”

“Mm. What about food?”

Your happy face fell into an adorable pout.

“Crap. Why’d you have to mention that? Now I’m hungry…”

That made him chuckle and move his hand to your hip to push you over on your back, before letting his torso rest on top of yours, although he kept most of his weight on his own elbows, and his hips and legs were still resting beside you.

“Then we’ll have breakfast and go back to bed.”

He had only meant to kiss you briefly, but when you responded with pure heat, his body suddenly ignored all thoughts. And when your arms ensnared him and your legs tried to pull him up fully on top of you, it took every ounce of determination he had, to resist you.

“Easy, Genie. I’m not going anywhere.”

The words were husky whispers in your ear, all he could manage after every nerve-ending in his system were suddenly dancing to your tune.

“I know, and that’s precisely why I want you so damn much. I don’t wanna wait to know how you can make me feel, how close to each other’s hearts we can get. Because I really, really like you too, Pero.”

Well. Fuck. He’d wanted to wait, just to be certain that neither of you rushed into anything, and to reassure you that he really wasn’t there just for the potential for sex. But if you were that sure about the two of you… He looked into your eyes for a long moment, to make sure that what he saw in there was real, and not just what he wanted to see.

“I didn’t bring any protection. If I’d thought for a moment that you’d ever let me go home with you…”

“I have an IUD. It’s never failed me before.”

In the five years since he’d left the military, he had occasionally gone to bars and sought out someone to help him unwind, but those excursions had always been planned, and he’d brought and used protection every time. But there was something incredibly enticing about the prospect of getting to feel you. To be with you completely without barriers, physical or emotional. That was something he’d never been able or willing to do with anyone before.

“If you’re comfortable with that risk, then I am too.”

You looked relieved to hear him say that, and it somehow only strengthened his belief that your feelings really were as strong as his own. You eagerly nodded, and he shifted his hips onto yours and felt how your legs parted for him, wrapping around him and trembling as he pushed his groin into yours, absolutely loving the way you responded to him.

*****

To call Pero Tovar a good lover would be such an understatement that it would make your brain glitch. Hell, he made your brain glitch that morning. It wasn’t as though your previous lovers had all been shit. You’d counted yourself as being quite lucky in that regard, usually managing to bring home men that stayed within your comfort zone and even when they didn’t succeed in making you climax, still made you feel good. Which only added to the disappointment of always waking up alone afterwards. But for a full hour Pero had you balancing on the verge of what you could endure, physically, and now you suddenly understood that the others hadn’t even been close. He was attentive and caring, while simultaneously somehow also just forceful and craving enough to drive your senses wild, as he let you feel how much raw desire you awoke in him. You’d fallen asleep for a little while afterwards, and when you woke up, he’d made lunch. So, you ate and then moved into the living room and the large sofa, but didn’t turn on a movie, as the man you had still only heard a couple dozen sentences from, was suddenly chatty.

“You don’t have much Christmas decorations. Have you given up celebrating?”

“No, not really. I just… I walk a lot, around town, and there’s just so much of it everywhere and I want to enjoy it. I want it to feel magical like it used to, but when I can’t celebrate the way that I want to, it just feels like it’s being forced on me and I end up resentful instead.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“What about you? Do you celebrate at all?”

“Uh, I don’t decorate. And by that, I mean that I don’t even have regular things, much less any specific holiday decorations. And I have no traditions or family to draw from. But I do celebrate, in my own way.”

“You don’t have any traditions left over from childhood even?”

“No. I grew up in a… very strict household. I was an orphan, and my foster-family was less of a family and more of a school. They weren’t mean or anything, but there wasn’t much warmth in that house. They taught me everything I’d need to know to survive in this world, and that was where they felt their responsibilities towards me ended.”

That surprised you, for several reasons.

“Okay, hold on, that was quite a chunk to digest.”

He fell silent and waited patiently for you to gather your thoughts.

“First off: I’m so sorry that you’ve never had a family. It makes me feel so blessed that I at least had one long enough to make wonderful memories that I can lean on, even if I have no relationship with them anymore. And second: how are you still capable of being this warm and loving person today, if that home was the image that shaped you?”

“I may have grown up there, but it was the military that ultimately shaped me, and that’s a family forged of trust and love. It would never work if we didn’t care about each other.”

Of course. You smiled at that, because it made you feel so much better to know that he’d at least had people that gave a shit about him at some point in his life.

“Losing all of them was what drove me into becoming the person you’ve known until now. I’ve tried to shield myself from further loss by being impenetrable, but it would seem you found a way in anyway.”

“Not that I knew it, or even tried to do that.”

“No, but I’m still happy that you succeeded. And as for my way of celebrating… we used to always try and do something special during Thanksgiving, Christmas and Easter every year, provided we weren’t in enemy territory or engaged in a mission of some sort. We sometimes only had some candy someone had smuggled in, but we’d make a thing of it. Prank each other and play cards or other games and just be silly. Our work was always so serious and dangerous that it was those moments that kept us sane. So, now I spend those holidays eating the things we used to dream we could eat back then, before I go to the cinema and watch some comedy, just to hear the audience laugh.”

“That’s somehow both sad and wonderfully positive. So, is that what we’re gonna do tomorrow, on Christmas Day?”

He positively beamed at you, and it took you by surprise. You’d never seen him smile so wide that his eyes disappeared before. And where the hell had he been hiding that adorable dimple?!

“As long as the ‘we’ part doesn’t change, I don’t care what we do.”

You shook your head at him, unable to resist smiling with him. He really did have a beautiful smile, and totally infectious too because it was just radiant.

“Then for the time being, how about we don’t plan anything, and just do whatever we feel like doing tomorrow?”

“Sounds good.”

You spent the rest of that day and evening just getting to know each other better, and you kept having to pinch yourself to check that you weren’t dreaming that he was suddenly so easy to talk to. He never dodged your questions even if they were difficult, and if they strayed into something he wasn’t allowed or prepared to tell you, he was honest about that, which made you feel safe to ask him anything. He told you about his fallen brothers and the relationships they’d had seemed to have been tremendously healthy, which surprised you. Because you’d always imagined that military men had a certain way about them, a hardness and perhaps a macho attitude, to a greater or lesser extent. But what he described really was a family. People he could talk to about literally anything without shame or fear of being ridiculed. People that had listened and been there for him, taught him everything about love and friendship that his foster parents hadn’t, and forgave him when he got it wrong in the beginning, because he just didn’t know how to be a friend yet. No wonder he’d struggled to sustain a social life after losing them. Especially since he seemed to have lost them all quite violently, and if you were reading correctly between some of those lines, he’d most likely been there for most, or even all, of their deaths. It made you so sad for him. But after dinner, when you were back in the sofa, cuddled up together in front of a live broadcast of a concert, he seemed to be itching to ask you something.

“What is it you’re chewing on, Pero? I can see that something’s turning in your head.”

“I’m just curious about your family, and what could’ve happened between you to make them turn away from someone as wonderful as you.”

“Well… families are complicated. When you grow up together, there are always gremlins somewhere in the background. Arguments that were never really settled, mistakes that never got resolved, and someone always has secrets. You tell yourself that it doesn’t matter because it’s family, and that that makes them worth a few mistakes, but that only works for a while. Sooner or later, you reach a breaking point, and depending on how willing you are to listen to each other, that point will either strengthen your family, or tear it apart.”

“And that’s what happened to you?”

“Yeah. Secrets. That’s what broke us. I’m the middle child between two brothers, the older named Jim and the younger Brody, and they were terrible rivals growing up, so I ended up being the mediator between them. They fought over everything, and then they came to me and cried about it because they knew that I’d be kind to them, whereas our parents for the most part were too tired to deal with their drama and would just tell them to stop fighting. So, I was the secret-keeper of the family, which was why I knew that Jim is gay. It never bothered me, but he was adamant about no one else knowing, so when Brody suddenly outed him at a family birthday dinner eight years ago, Jim assumed that I’d told him. I wasn’t there to defend myself that day, I was in college and couldn’t go home that weekend, but from what I’ve gathered, it was one hell of a fight. Every little grudge between all of them had been brought up, until they’d all managed to say some things that you just can’t take back. And when it was over, everyone called me, one after the other, and those calls were the worst conversations I’ve ever had with anyone. Jim was so angry with me that in pure spite, thinking that I’d spilled his secret, he’d told the family the one secret that I’d shared with him, which was that an uncle in the family had once been inappropriate with me, which is true, but my parents refused to believe it. They called me to tell me that I was a liar and that my uncle had been nothing but kind to me my entire life, even helping to pay for my education, as if that meant that he was automatically a good person. I had never been truly upset with my parents before that day, but by the end of that call, I never wanted to speak to them again. And Brody was just angry that I wasn’t ‘on his side’, whatever that means. I guess he hoped that I’d do what I’d always done up until then, and try and make him feel better, but I just couldn’t. Not after they’d all somehow decided to blame me for something.”

“But you hadn’t told Brody about Jim being gay?”

“No. I think he figured it out on his own, either by spying on Jim or just through whatever little clues he might have caught over the years.”

“And you don’t think that these things can be resolved?”

“I don’t know. I guess that would depend on everyone being willing to forgive each other, and I just don’t see that happening. I don’t even know if I can.”

He seemed to be thinking hard for a minute, and you silently waited for him to digest all of it.

“I don’t know them, so I can’t say whether they’re good people at heart, but from my perspective, anyone that is willing to harm you just to throw blame away from themselves, are unworthy of your affection or forgiveness. Family or not.”

Hearing that actually made you happy. Because it meant that he valued your emotional health a hell of a lot more than your family ever had. Your brothers had always used you to make themselves feel better, and your parents had relied on your kindness to ease their guilt about not being home more. There had always been a smidgeon of guilt somewhere inside you, that maybe you could’ve done more, maybe you could’ve somehow helped your brothers better and prevented this whole mess. But you also knew that nothing you might’ve done would’ve made any difference, because you hadn’t done anything wrong regardless. None of it was your fault. And Pero reminded you of that. He somehow solidified your belief in your own strength and in the thought that you were right to leave that broken family behind and move forwards instead. How had you ever considered him to be cold and uncaring?

Bedtime came a bit earlier than your usual 11 pm routine, but you still didn’t fall asleep until well after midnight, at which point you were so spent, so unbelievably exhausted that you literally passed out on top of him. You were sitting up, straddling him, with your hands pressed into his chest, but the moment after you’d come for the third time, your arms just gave out and everything went black. All you could do was hope that he’d catch you as you fell forwards, so you wouldn’t crack your head open against his collarbone, or something.

*****

He’d only just gotten his hands up in time to keep you from waking up with what he was sure would’ve been a serious bump on your forehead, or possibly a broken nose, as you’d collapsed from your last tousle. His own arms had trembled with fatigue, forcing him to direct your limp torso off to the side rather than try and hold you up, but you’d landed softly on the mattress instead, giving him time to recover a little before he manoeuvred you to a better sleeping position. When you woke up the next morning it was with a bit of a jolt, probably because the last thing you remembered was fainting, and you looked around dazed and disoriented, getting annoyed with your tangled hair that kept getting in your eyes. He’d woken up before you this time and had just watched you as you laid there on your belly, with your face half buried in the pillow. You’d stirred a few times during the morning, twisting your body like a cat and mumbling unintelligible things, which was why he was just lying beside you now, not holding you in case you needed to move more. Every little thing you did made him smile. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d found it so easy to smile and enjoy himself. But you made him happy. It was just that simple.

“Oof… if you’re gonna make a habit out of wringing every ounce of pleasure out of me for two hours straight, I’m gonna have to start exercising more. Every single muscle is aching…”

“Don’t worry, preciosa, I don’t have the strength to do that too many times either.”

You merely hummed at that and closed your eyes again, still too tired to fully engage with the waking world.

“Finish waking up, I’ll make breakfast. And then I think we need to take a drive over to my place. I need clean clothes.”

He crawled past you, kissing you on the cheek as he passed over you, and he was well into the process of making pancakes by the time you appeared in the kitchen, having untangled your hair and already gotten dressed in jeans and a knitted white sweater. You both ate like starved wolves and then talked a little more before Pero got dressed too and you made the trip over to his apartment. He was nervous bringing you there but tried not to show it too much. He’d never brought anyone there before, and he worried what you’d think about his complete lack of personalisation. He offered you to step in first, and you did, walking straight in and looking out of the large windows directly ahead in the combined space. The bedroom wasn’t its own room exactly, but it was separated by a single parting wall, just long enough to fit a bed behind. Other than that, the kitchen, dining area and living room was all one space.

“The view is great up here.”

“Yeah. That’s why I took it. It’s a little out of the way, but at least there are no nosy neighbours peeking in.”

“That was one of the draws for me with my apartment too. Granted, it only looks into tree-crowns since the park is right next to it, but it still means no houses opposite. I could never live somewhere where I felt the need to close the blinds just for a moment of privacy.”

“Well, feel free to look around while I get changed. Uh… there isn’t much, I know, but you’re welcome to snoop all the same.”

He moved to the closets next to the bed and started undressing.

“I’ve never once imagined what your home might look like but, strangely, this feels entirely accurate to how I’ve perceived you. And now that I know what you come from, I knew not to expect any embellishments or much in the way of personal trinkets. However, the library is a total surprise. There must be a thousand books here.”

“It’s the one thing I like to do on my days off. Besides the occasional cinema visit.”

“Have you read all of them?”

“No, not yet.”

He’d finished getting dressed by then, in jeans, a warm sweater and a nice brown leather jacket that he never wore to work. Long ago it had been a birthday gift from his brothers, the only one he’d ever gotten, which was why he only ever wore it to special occasions. But every day with you was a special occasion. He debated whether to pack a bag with more clothes to bring to your place, or if that might be too presumptuous. No. You wouldn’t mind that, it was just a sign that he really was serious about you, right? He pulled the bag out of the closet and threw in some basic things before he stepped around the bed and the parting wall, to find you reading the backs of some books, turned away from him.

“Okay, I’m ready.”

He was unreasonably nervous as he watched you turn and take in his appearance, and the bag hanging from his hand. But you didn’t make him wait this time, as it was apparently the first thing you noticed.

“Ah, I like your thinking there. And you look great. I suddenly feel a bit upstaged.”

He breathed a small sigh of relief.

“Don’t. You look perfect.”

That earned him a slightly wonky smile, which he interpreted as you being fine with him believing that, but not believing it about yourself.

“Thanks.”

You spent the rest of what he hoped was only your first Christmas together, mostly just walking around town, trying to find some holiday cheer in the markets and decorated windows and generally happy mood of the people you met, and it worked surprisingly well. But the day ended back at your place, and the bed that he’d already come to think of as the place where he had the best sleep imaginable, and never wanted to leave again.

*****

The following days kept to pretty much the same pattern. You talked, ate, napped, made love, talked more and so on, and you wondered if there was a happier way to live. And then suddenly that morning came, when you had to go back to work, back to reality and pressure and deadlines and you weren’t ready. Because these three weeks had been a dream, and you were terrified that you’d go back to everyday life and the balloon would pop and it would turn out that none of it was real. You were sad that morning, but you tried to act normally for Pero’s sake, so that he wouldn’t think that he’d done something wrong, while you bustled about the apartment trying to get ready when both of your normal routines had been disrupted by each other’s presence. The drive was quiet, and you couldn’t help but notice that he seemed to fall back into his usual gruff work-persona the closer you got to the office. However, there was a part of you that kinda liked that, because it meant that only you got to have that other side of him. And before you parted ways by the elevator (the security staff had a locker room and showers down there in the sub-basement) he pulled you in for a hug, kissed your cheek and whispered in your ear.

“I’ll be right here at the end of the day, and if I can take my lunch at noon I’ll come and find you, okay?”

You almost started crying. He’d known, probably all morning, that you were worried. He already knew what your true happiness looked like and could tell when you had to work for it. Fuck. You loved this man. So damn much. Was it too soon to tell him that? You didn’t wanna say it until you felt sure that he could handle something like that, and wouldn’t be frightened by the implications and responsibilities, that came with a declaration like that.

“I already miss you.”

He pulled back from your cheek just enough to reach your lips instead and kissed you softly for a deliciously long moment, before letting go of you and turning to head for the locker room. You watched him until he disappeared around a corner, and then you sighed and pressed the elevator button.

“Wow…”

You recognised the voice immediately and couldn’t help but smile as you turned around and found Ben Tyler behind you, with raised eyebrows and a general look of awe on his face.

“Morning, Tyler.”

“I always knew he had it in him, but he’s actually like, soft and all, with you. I thought that he’s just perpetually gruff, even when he’s happy, which admittedly isn’t frequent, but it happens. But that was like, all tender and sweet, and he actually talks to you! How’d you do that?”

You had to remind yourself what a tremendous thing that must be for him to see, after so many months of working with a brick wall. But it also struck you that he mentioned Pero being happy, meaning he must’ve somehow learned how to see it on him when he was, even through the bricks, which was more than you ever had. The elevator arrived just then, and you answered while stepping inside.

“I honestly have no idea. Have a nice day.”

He got all serious for a moment and pointed a finger at you for emphasis.

“I will get him to talk to me one of these days. Mark my words, Genie.”

The doors closed just as he finished, and you smiled all the way up to your floor. Leave it to Tyler to get your spirits up just when you needed it the most. You’d have to invite him over for dinner someday, to thank him for being such a good friend, and to let him see Pero when he was really relaxed. You were pretty sure that your boyfriend liked the kid, even if he wouldn’t admit to it, so perhaps there was a real friendship to be made there, with a little push at the right time. Stepping onto your floor you were met by a flurry of activity as there was always work backed up after the holidays, no matter how much you tried to work ahead before the office closed. You made your way to your office and just as you stepped inside, your assistant appeared behind you.

“Welcome back, Genie. I know you don’t celebrate, but I hope you had a good time away.”

“I did, thank you, Isabel. And same to you. But I know my schedule’s packed today, so let’s get started, shall we?”

“Yes, of course. You have a briefing with senior staff at 9, a video-conference with legal at 9.30, a meeting with Eleanor from economy at 10, that thing with the gaming developers at 11, and six departments are waiting for your assessment on that new software for the identification program.”

“That was the one that Reynold’s team developed, right?”

“Yep. Do you wanna start with that?”

“I’m sure those departments want me to, it’s already delayed. Just give me a heads-up ten minutes before the briefing, in case I loose track of time.”

“You got it. Oh, and before I go, well done for thawing that block of ice. I wouldn’t have pegged you as one to go for the broody sort, but you seem happy, so guess I was wrong.”

“Whaa…?”

You just stared at her with your mouth hanging open for a few seconds while your mind tried to catch up.

“H-how do you already know about that? Nobody but Tyler saw us arrive together. OH! Did he tell you? Don’t tell me he sent out a mass-text or anything, because I will punch him in the fucking face!”

“No, it wasn’t him. I heard it from Anna by the coffee-machine just now.”

“It’s already fucking gossip?! It’s not even 7.30…”

“It’s an office, honey. We live for this shit.”

You growled behind your own teeth as you watched her leave, and then passive aggressively started punching keys on your computer while mumbling about people minding their own business and doing what they were paid to do. But you soon forgot all about it. Your morning ended up even more crammed than your schedule had predicted, so by the time you heard a knock on your door and found Pero standing in the open frame, you’d completely forgotten that lunch even existed. You sighed and pushed away from your desk and rolled your shoulders, hearing loud cracks in your neck and feeling the strain of alternating between lots of sitting, and lots of fast walking, in your back and hips.

“I won’t ask how your day is going, I can hear it from here. Do you want a massage?”

“Oh, god… do you seriously think you have to ask?”

He chuckled and came to stand behind your chair, putting his large hands on your shoulders, and going to work on them. He was so good at it, softening you up in no time, dragging his thumbs up the length of your neck and working through that too. It felt so good that you were almost asleep even though you sat upright, by the time he stopped.

“Better?”

“Infinitely. Thank you so much, you’re an angel.”

“Anytime, sweetheart. Now let’s get some food into you before you pass out.”

“Might be wise, yeah.”

He took your hand to help you up, and then kept holding it as you left your office, which made you smile. But it also made you remember Isabel’s comment that morning.

“Hey, did you know that we were the talk of the town even before 7.30 this morning?”

“Mm. That’s because Gaby got in early this morning and was already checking over the security feeds at the time we arrived. She happened to see us, and it apparently made her morning, so she decided to share the news.”

“We have Gaby to thank for that? Gaby?!”

“We do.”

“Well, shit. I can’t be angry with her, I like her.”

He smiled at you and shook his head while the elevator took you up to the cafeteria.

“Isn’t that a wonderful problem to have, mi amor.”

You meant to answer him, but it got stuck in your throat when your brain registered what he’d just said. You didn’t speak a whole lot of Spanish, but you sure as hell knew what those two little words meant. But just as you were about to ask him about it, the doors opened and he pulled you along out into the cafeteria, which was about half full at the time. And every single face in there turned to look at the two of you as you made your way to the counter, still hand in hand. As always, being in this kind of spotlight made you feel awkward, and even though you tried to smile at people, you were sure that it only looked forced and awful. But Pero was used to being stared at, and just soldiered on. You stopped caring about the nosy people when he asked you to tell him about your morning, and you allowed the conversation to distract you, keeping your focus only on him, as you were sure had been his intention with the question. And when your hour was up, he followed you back to your office, and closed the door after he’d stepped in with you. Your office was squared and there were large windows taking up most of the wall-space behind your desk, while the side walls were ordinary wallpapered wood and plaster. But the wall between your office and the cubicle-maze was made entirely of glass, meaning there was nowhere to hide from prying eyes. Unless you closed the aluminium door. He pulled you in behind it so that he could kiss you to his heart’s content without anyone seeing you, and he didn’t stop until you were both gasping for air.

“I’ve been thinking about that all morning.”

He was breathless and craving, you could hear the desire oozing out of every syllable.

“I’m glad you’ve had time to think, at least.”

“Don’t be. It’s torture to have to stay away from you.”

“Well, then I guess it’s good that we don’t have any plans tonight.”

You should’ve known better than to jinx it, but of course, the lack of plans turned into obligated travel two thousand fucking miles away, just twenty minutes before you were supposed to be done for the day.

*****

“Do you have to go?”

“I designed and created that entire system, I’m the only one that can figure out why it crashed, but it’s on a server that isn’t networked and can’t be, for security reasons, so… yeah, I have to go.”

“It can’t wait until tomorrow?”

“Pero, there’s a helicopter about to pick me up, just to get me to the airport faster. I highly doubt they’d be willing to wait that long.”

“Fine, but text me when you land, and every chance you get.”

“I will, I promise. I’m so sorry.”

You kissed him goodbye and ran over to the well-dressed men that had come to collect you, and he hated them for stealing you from him. Today had been the first day since you invited him home, that the two of you had been apart for more than twenty minutes at a time, and he’d been looking forward to having you close again. He tried to tell himself that it was healthy to be separated from time to time, that it kept people from getting tired of one another, but it did nothing to soothe his aching chest. Apart from his books, you were literally all he had, and he needed to know that you were safe, something that was impossible when you were in a completely different part of the country, surrounded by strangers. All of which was made worse by the fact that not even you knew how long you’d be gone. He didn’t even know how he’d get through the night, much less several, without you. He was already so used to sleeping with you in his arms that just the idea of not having you there was giving him chills. Coming home to your apartment alone made the place seem so empty and colourless. But at least he got to be around your scent, and your things. Everything you. He showered but didn’t bother making dinner, since he had no appetite, and headed for the living room to pick out a book to read. But then the doorbell rang. No one ever visited you. He knew that because you’d lived there for five years, and besides him, only your failed attempts at finding a partner had ever been there. You weren’t even there now, and nobody knew that he practically lived there too, so why would anyone come by? It had to be a salesperson, so he ignored it. And then his phone beeped, making him jump and almost drop it in his hurry to check it. It was from you, and that alone was enough to make him remember how to breathe. But then he read the message, and felt a deep crease settle into his forehead.

>> On the plane now. Are you ever gonna open the door? <<

Had you sent someone there? What on earth for? He went to the door and checked the peephole, and sure enough, a familiar face was out there. Whatever you were up to, he felt certain that he wouldn’t enjoy it. He just wanted to sit there and brood and wait for you to come home so he could sleep, not play host to some manner of intervention, so he still contemplated ignoring it. But you’d be disappointed with him if he did that, so he took a deep breath and opened the door.

“What exactly did she tell you?”

“To keep you company and be as annoying as possible.”

He sighed. Heavily.

“Your specialty.”

Tyler nodded enthusiastically, and Pero just glared at him. He couldn’t believe you’d done this, but no one else would’ve dared to. You were concerned about him and didn’t want him to be alone, he understood that, but he really couldn’t understand what you hoped that this little trick would accomplish? It was only for your sake that he stepped out of the way, holding the door open for the kid while he walked in, and then slammed it shut behind him.

“So, I’m thinking tacos and nachos and dip, I’ve got soft shells too, in case you prefer that, I’ve got some beer if you want, some chocolate thing for dessert that just looked too good not to try, know what I mean? Also, these gingerbread-flavoured toffee’s that were on sale, left over from the holidays I guess, but man they are crazy delicious.”

He kept talking while Pero led him to the kitchen, completely uninterested in anything the kid had brought because he still wasn’t hungry.

“Ooh, this place is nice. Modern and all. Right, let’s see, where are the frying pans?”

He didn’t answer because he’d already left the kitchen as soon as Tyler stepped into it and had no intention of helping him find anything. If he wanted to cook, he could cook, provided he left Pero out of it. He returned to the living room and the book he’d picked out, but before he started reading, he picked up his phone again to text you back.

>> Stay safe. And what exactly are you up to? <<

Your reply pinged just a minute later.

>> I will. And I’m making friends, which means you’re making friends too. So, get your ass over to the kitchen. <<

He grumbled under his breath. Sure, the kid was tolerable, but he was a poor substitute for you. And he wasn’t helped by the fact that Pero was feeling extra cranky at the moment.

>> I don’t want tacos. <<

>> So? Keep him company while he cooks. <<

>> No. <<

>> Get your ass to the kitchen. I won’t tell you again. <<

>> What are you gonna do about it from two thousand miles away? <<

There was a pause. And it got longer, and longer, and longer.

>> Preciosa? <<

No reply. He tried to be patient, but…

>> Sweetheart, what’s going on? <<

After ten minutes he was in the hallway putting his shoes on, about to leave for the fucking airport, when there was finally another ping and he damn near dropped the phone again.

>> Take off your shoes and go and talk to him, or I won’t talk to you. <<

He actually started looking around for a fucking camera. How the hell did you know exactly what he was doing? Another ping.

>> Stop stalling. Final warning. <<

What the… He made a mental note to check the apartment for any type of bug or transmitter later, and then took off his shoes again.

>> FINE. <<

He walked into the kitchen and sat down by the table, with the book. It was childish, he knew that, but yours was the only company he truly enjoyed, and if he couldn’t have that, he was rather on his own. Tyler was a good kid, but they had nothing but work in common. So, what were they supposed to talk about?

“Oh, hey. I’m almost done with the mince. Listen, I wanted to ask your advice on something, if that’s okay? Because I got inspired by you and Genie, so I finally asked Marie out on a date. But I’ve got no idea what to do. Like, I should surprise her, right? Do something fun that she doesn’t expect, sweep her off her feet!”

Pero almost chuckled. Almost.

“Some people don’t like surprises.”

Tyler could hear the slight accusation in his tone.

“Hey, this was not my idea. You wanna blame someone, take it up with your girl, I’m just following orders. That is one fierce woman. I mean I always knew that, but it’s different when she actually starts bossing you around. But it’s like she’s somehow also just so sweet, that you wanna do anything she asks, even though she’s not actually asking. I see what it is that made you step out of your comfort zone for her.”

That observation surprised Pero, but he wasn’t sure that the kid really knew what he was talking about.

“You think so, hm?”

“Yeah, I mean, she’s energetic and strong and determined, but there’s something so soft about her too, right? Something kinda fragile. And lord knows I know how unflinchingly resolute one needs to be to get under your skin, but also how fiercely protective you are. She’s perfect for you.”

It took the older man a minute to absorb that, because he knew the kid was smart and attentive, but he hadn’t seen this level of calm maturity from him before. At work, he was always ready. Always waiting for the next thing to happen, and excited about every little thing that did happen. But this was the first time that Pero had seen him outside of work, and while he was still the same kid, there was an ease and a comfort to him now. And that suggested that perhaps he wasn’t quite so annoyingly hyperactive ordinarily. Perhaps he was just stressed at work. Scared of failing or doing something wrong or maybe just that people wouldn’t like him.

“You said… that you think of me as your friend. Even though I never talk to you, never offer you anything beyond what the job requires. Why would you think like that?”

Tyler just shrugged while he chopped vegetables, still looking at ease.

“Because I know how you treat people that you really don’t like, and that’s not how you treat me. I know what makes you angry, sad, happy, and I know that even though I irritate the living daylights out of you sometimes, you never tell me to shut up. I think of you as a friend because, in your own way, you’re kind to me but without ever making me feel like a charity case.”

Suddenly he knew exactly why you’d sent Tyler there that night. You really were a fucking genius. He had no clue how you’d known that the kid felt like that about him, or that this kind of setting was the only way he’d ever feel comfortable enough to admit it, but now your adamant insistence that he had to talk to him, all made sense. You weren’t trying to make friends; you were trying to make him see that both of you already had one. He got up and went to the knife-drawer, picked out a good one and found another cutting board to start helping the kid with the veggies and onions. He was very skilled with blades and made Tyler’s eyes pop wide as he made his way through the greens in no time.

“I don’t drink alcohol. Messes with my dreams in all the bad ways. But there’s some lemon-flavoured sparkling water in the fridge that kinda goes with everything.”

It took him a moment to realise that Pero had just agreed to join him for dinner, but when he did, he practically bounced over to the fridge to find the bottles.

*****

You came home early the next morning, having worked through the night, so you were dead on your feet and stumbling out of your shoes and having to wrestle your nearly limp arms out of the jacket, while aiming for the bedroom through barely open eyes. You weren’t even gonna try and have a go at your clothes before you collapsed onto the bed and fell asleep the moment your head hit the pillow. You woke up feeling heavy and sluggish, disoriented by having slept during the day and having no idea what time it was now. But you quickly realised that you were under the duvet and undressed down to your panties, so you knew that Pero had at least been there with you even though you couldn’t see or hear him right then. There had been a few more texts between you during the evening and you’d gotten the impression that he had at least participated in the meal, but you didn’t know yet if your plan had worked, and he’d realised what a friend he really had in Tyler. You needed the bathroom, so you dragged yourself out of bed feeling more asleep than awake still, but when you re-emerged into the bedroom, you were snared by two big arms that enveloped you while a lovely little hum filled your ears. He kissed your neck and rubbed your back, and you relaxed into him, feeling safe and loved and happy.

“I missed you, preciosa.”

“Mmm, I can tell.”

He was mildly pressing his hips into yours, and there was enough going on down there that you knew where it was going, and you had no objections at all. You might be tired, but not of him. He could hear that desire in your voice and his attention got more focused. He was backing you against the bed while he spoke next.

“You are genuinely amazing; do you realise that?”

That made you smile and seek out his lips as you answered him.

“I try not to dwell on it. Makes people uncomfortable.”

The backs of your legs hit the bedframe and you sat down, lazily pulling yourself further onto it while he kneeled and followed you down, settling in on top of your still sleep-soft warm body.

“I’m not gonna let you go, you understand that, right? I mean if you kick me out, of course I’ll leave, but you would have to kick really hard.”

“I know, that’s why I trust you with my heart.”

This time, there was no hesitation. Even in your hazy, half-asleep brain, you no longer feared that he would think it was too soon or be overwhelmed by hearing it.

“I love you, Pero.”

His eyes found yours, and they’d turned that liquid brandy colour that had taken you aback that night by the garage door. So full of desire and affection and appreciation that they just couldn’t stay solid. And in those eyes, you saw so much that you knew he wanted to say, but simply had no words for. The incredulity of hearing that you’d chosen him, despite his strangeness and limited social skills, despite his previously off-putting behaviour and complete lack of emotional response. The gratitude of knowing that you’d be there even if he messed up. The value he placed on the fact that you were happy with him. He said it back to you, over and over while his body showed you just how much he felt for you, and it didn’t matter what time it was, what day it was or where you were. All that mattered, was that you were exactly where you wanted to be.

THE END (again)

@tacticalsparkles @tanzthompson @sarahjkl82-blog @marydjarin @idreamofboobear @annathewitch @agingerindenial @tiffanyleen @winter-fox-queen @elegantduckturtle @lovefreylove @shadowolf993 @callsigncatfish @talesfromtheguild @hounding-around @cannedsoupsucks @startrekkingaroundasgard @thisshipwillsail316 @ellie-darling @likes-good-reblogs-even-better @nakhudanyx @dihra-vesa @tobealostwanderer @ophelialoveshandsomemen @andiesturgss @deadhumourist @spideysimpossiblegirl @pedrostories @toomanystoriessolittletime @tintinn16 @prostitute-robot-from-the-future @nolanell

[basically-i-write-shit]

Basicallyiwriteshit's Haikyuu fic masterpost

I'm bored at 3 am you know what that means! it's time to compartmentalize all of my my hq!! fics on ao3. Please note that some of these were written as far back as 2015 when I was 15- they may not be good but I keep them up because some people may still want to read them. These will be ordered oldest to newest.

Fluff/feel-good fics (rated for general audiences, up to teen)

Kei's phone: Kuroo and Bokuto snoop and find that Tsukishima has a soft spot for two things: brunettes and their dogs.

Since I've heard your voice: big bang 2016 piece about Tsukishima being cursed by a witch and needing "true loves kiss" to break the spell.

To fall in love: Tsukishima realizes his crush on Yamaguchi while reading romance manga.

Just despicable: office worker AU where everyone thinks tsukkiyama are cheating on their spouses with the other....only, their spouses are each other.

Taking flight, flying to new heights: tsukkiyama gift exchange 2017 piece featuring band AUs, mild hurt/comfort, and figure skating AUs.

A series of...fortunate events?: an ushiyama meet-cute featuring amnesia and a caring Ushijima.

Because the future's brighter with you: tsukkiyama week dribbles featuring meet-cutes, established relationship fluff, and dnd.

The one where Tanaka loves his boyfriend: Just Tanka loving on his boyfriend, Ennoshita.

Press record and tell me your feelings: Influencer AU. Tsukkiyama, kiyoyachi, ennotana, kuroken, bokuaka. Completed.

Stalemate: Sakuatsu fake dating au featuring meddling MSBY Black Jackals. Mild hurt/comfort to come, but eventual happy ending. Ongoing.

Open Doors: Tsukkiyama professors AU

Full Sentences: Kuroken, can be read as romantic or platonic. Nekoma reminisce about their first words. Kuroo is delighted to tell them Kenma’s. 

Nobody: Tsukkiyama Valentine’s Day fic. Mostly canon compliant, post-timeskip, fluffy domestic bliss. 

Hello, my old heart: Jump-cut to uni, and Tsukishima is absolutely, undeniably smitten. He can't help but stare, and that leads to some teasing from Yamaguchi- and an...unexpected new fact about his best friend.

Angst, hurt/comfort/pain (gen. audiences, teen)

That makes you the ace, right?: Tsukishima and his anguish at being lied to by Akiteru. Happy ending.

Cut: tsukkiyama acting in one of Ennoshita's films gets a little too personal. Happy ending.

Codependent, maybe: Yamaguchi gets insecure about his codependency on his best friend and boyfriend, so he calls it quits. No one likes that idea. Happy ending. (Side note: I hate that troupe of Yamaguchi being the insecure one, but this fic stays up because of ONE (1) comment in the bookmarks of this fic)

Never had to wait: ennotana, post-timeskip Tanaka emotionally and then eventually physically cheats on Kiyoko when he meets up with Ennoshita again by chance. Open/ambiguous ending.

Secrets, secrets: Parent-Trap-esque miya twins angst where they're separated very young and don't know they're twins until they're trying to make it in life and reporters keep asking them about each other. No happy ending/ambiguous ending.

Not your part, but all your fault: Sakuatsu get-together fix. A deep look into Sakusa's mental illness and why he feels he can't ever have a relationship- until Miya Atsumu. Mild hurt/comfort, direct mentions of being ill/throwing up, OCD and related disorders. Eventual happy ending.

Growing Apart: Miya twins character study. Open-ended, no actual plot just angsty thought. 

A rose by any other name (would be as sweet): Delinquent!Yamaguchi manages to get the attention of not only karasuno's boys volleyball team as a whole, but of Tsukishima Kei. But he can't accept his feelings without accepting himself first. Internalized homophobia, mild violence, child neglect, parental loss. Eventual happy ending.

18+ rating 🔞 (some teen, some mature, some explicit)

Little red riding hood(ie): Yamaguchi is caught by a curious creature walking home late at night. Only features heavy petting, mildly dubious consent. 

Deception: Daichi gets the entire Karasuno team to masturbate in front of one another with a little ruse involving a fleshlight. Heavily kinky, dubious consent. Characters aren't aged up but also author was 17 when they wrote it.

Arms tonight: an edging fic w an ironic title. Tsukkiyama fic based off of arms tonite by Mother Mother. Edging, overstim, dom/sub, choking, toy use, blowjobs.

Loving is easy: kinktober 2021 oneshots for various hq ships. I made my own list! Heed the warnings and tags

Omegaverse (teen & up) 

Our starlight: dark au centering around Yamaguchi finding a lost civilization that won't let him leave. TW for dark themes such as kidnapping, cults, forced marriage/mating, rape, violence. Ongoing. 🔞

Jealousy: Tsukishima gets jealous when another alpha gropes Yamaguchi at the club. Minor assault warning, dubious consent due to alcohol consumption and pheromones. 🔞

Potentially triggering content that doesn’t fit in another category (read at your own risk)

The loyal knight: AU where the seijoh boys are training to be knights. Demons, violence. (One of my favorites I've ever posted)

How an angel loses it wings: AU where Yamaguchi is an angel sent to bring fallen angel Kuroo back to the Light. Misuse of the Christian bible, angels and demons, suggestiveness, religious imagery.