#me: yeah I have to peel and shed my skin every few days because of undiagnosed issues

[scarabies-real]

tfw you overshare your strange lizard-like tendencies and maladies in the discord server and general goes quiet 😔 can’t be lizard in Detroit

[banqdanfnfic]

which, as they kiss, consume | jjk

you just wanted to get a tattoo from your boyfriend

pairing: tattoo artist!jk x reader

genre: established relationships au, tattoo artist au, smut

word count: 4k

warnings: unprotected sex, biting, making out, grinding, licking, nipple play, jk has a lip ring, oral (f receiving), fingering, shy jk and oc, sexual tension, slight choking, slight aftercare

♫ : Streets by Doja Cat, Candy by Doja Cat

♡ Aesthetics: Playlist | Moodboard

He visibly chokes on his glass of beer as he almost snaps his neck to meet your gaze. He could say that you were awfully drunk and hence the sudden confession out of the blue, but behind your heavy lidded eyes, Jungkook could sense that you were serious.

“You what?”, he gulps abruptly, moving closer to your face, doe eyes pleading to repeat yourself.

“Yes Kook. I want that tattoo on my breasts. I’ve decided”.

It’s not that Jungkook didn’t have experience in his career with inking on different parts of a human body. He just had never given a tattoo to someone who is romantically associated with him and the thought of seeing you half naked made him chuck down the rest of his drink in one go.

The most physical he had ever gotten with you was a kiss shared occasionally since it’s only been over two weeks you had started dating. Okay maybe you made out once in his car but that’s it. It never got to the point of shedding clothes or anything intense.

“Are you sure?”

You giggle at the sudden hoarseness in his voice and nod positive. Ironic how his aura never matched his personality. His inked skin, athletic body proportions covered in black monochrome bad boy outfits gave out default energy that he is a local heartthrob with multiple chicks wrapped around his finger each night and a heavy demeanor to carry in his smirk.

You were one of those believers until Jungkook asked you out in the most hopeless romantic way possible after constantly visiting the café you work in, a few shops besides his parlor. He was a gentleman with respectful boundaries, warm hands to hold yours and sweet sensual kisses though you are pretty sure he probably has a good game.

For any outsider it looked like those cliché bad boy and shy girl love stories, but for real both of you were a good percentage of introverts.

Jungkook runs his tongue around his lip ring while he is stressfully ruffling his dark locks into a mess. He is trying to explain his reasons to postpone your decision considering how shy he got at this point. But then that’s exactly why you were requesting him with soft eyes, it would be so uncomfortable to be shirtless in front of anybody else. Or maybe it’s your way of saying the relationship is open for higher levels of physical affection.

After debating around in vain, he finally hums and clears one of his slots for his beloved client.

Friday approaches way quicker than you assumed and now your heart is beating in your throat. Right after you are done cleaning the tables, you have to make it to Jungkook’s parlor for your appointment.

Running on three hours of sleep, black under eyes even after a decent amount of makeup, you groan as you check yourself out in the mirror. You opted for a simple shirt and skirt (also known as the outfit you bought for occasions with Jungkook), light beach waves resting on your shoulders. Hoping that a few cups of coffee will save you, you stride across the street to stop before the infamous parlor he worked in. Hopefully the full body shave and chocolate body butter has kept its excellence on your skin below the clothing.

The door chimes as it opens with a dragged creak on the musky wooden flooring. It felt like an otherworld where air smelled like men’s perfume and faint tint of cigarettes. In other words, intoxicating.

You ask the first person you meet at the reception, one of Jungkook’s companions at the shop and he assists you to his cabin located at a comfortably remote location.

His space is hidden with a simple black curtain. You are met with Jungkook’s back facing you, working determinately on a client’s arm and cares to spare a glance only when the guy with you is informing him about your presence.

“This will be over in a few”, he grins to your face and goes back to focusing his coil on the skin of a woman in her late twenties laying down his chair. The vibration from his inking machine fills in the silence and you excuse yourself to sit on a small black couch beside them.

This was the first time watching him at work and now you can understand why people rumored so much about his attitude because damn it is intimidating.

Brows knit together and inked muscles flex as he drags the needles around for finishing touches. Meanwhile you can pretty much smell the drool from the woman who is shamelessly checking out your boyfriend. Though you are pretty sure Jungkook gets such glances more than he can count every day, you can’t help but feel jealous. Partly because of the childish possessiveness and partly because you want to be the reason behind his dark eyes and intricate concentration, in profession or not.

To stop from mentally throwing daggers on the client’s way, you grab a random fashion magazine from the side table and flip through pages, though other four senses are inclined on your man. With a close attention to his low sigh you conclude that he is done.

The customer with now a fresh tattoo on her arm is discussing random useless topics to get him to talk, a very vain job realizing how Jungkook doesn’t bat a friendly lash at anybody, especially to those who hit on him. To be honest a large part of the ink business was linked with the obsession to attractive people who worked here, even if it meant trading an area of your skin. You grip the edges of the magazine a bit hard, not able to contain the sanity particularly at the high pitch voice she mumbles in before finally leaving his cabin.

A little excited and a lot nervous, you stand up as Jungkook bids goodbye to the third person.

He is quick to notice your discomfort, though not sure if it was the woman or the thought of finally getting the tattoo, he knew you were nervous and surviving in several cups of espresso by the dark circles slowly showing through the faded layers of your concealer. But nothing pulls down the opinion he has about you, beautiful and simple, no dramatics attached.

“Hey are you okay?”

You nod as soon as you sit down on the black tattoo chair, shifting a little to find a comfortable position. He is taking out a box full of equipment and fine needles, already making you break a sweat at the side of your forehead.

But more than that, it’s the way he is sharp and professional that catches your attention more.

You have never seen Jungkook this serious before. The choice of his vetiver perfume digging through your nostrils was driving you insane. If he doesn’t smile soon, you are going to melt into a puddle at his gaze.

“Are you nervous?”, he smirks this time, a newfound reason for your worsening gut health.

It’s mostly going in cycles at this point. Every bit of his skilled motion causes a vigorous hormonal reaction which initiates his next set of effortless teasing.

“I’m a little nervous”, you say, fiddling with your freshly painted nude nails.

“Me too”

It’s something you least expect to come out of his mouth observing how confident he looks right now. He basically has you cornered with his gaze. But whenever he had been truthful about his emotions it felt like a hug.

“I can take off my shirt too, so that we are even. Is that okay?”

He said it so softly like he is handling a child and the duality of the situation had your mind fogged and limbs frozen for a few minutes.

“Yeah it’s okay” It’s far beyond than okay. It’s great actually.

Jeon Jungkook is ripped, a Greek God sculptured masterpiece covered in self designed artwork you are more than happy to wake up to every morning. He hears you gulp at the feast before your eyes while he discards his black t-shirt to a nearby chair.

Now you don’t know if this whole thing is supposed to warm your heart or make you play several erotic fantasies like a movie before your eyes.

Both of you share a small smile while his long fingers are tugging at the hem of your shirt and pulling it up over your head.

He almost wishes you don’t opt to wear a bra but he is met with lacy black, a-bit-over your-usual-budget fabric hugging the roundness of your breasts.

It seemed like you were way too competitive about today. Anything less than complete awe from Jungkook for you was straight disappointment, you don't want anything less.

Well it seems like it did from how blown his pupils were at this point. He peels his gaze off your chest with a sharp gulp to look at your eyes suddenly devoid of any fear and staring back at him with all ease. He is filled with an exapnse of warmth and he isn't sure why does spending just a little amount of time with you had such a grip on him. He can’t wait to propose the idea of getting a couple tattoo together soon and as far as you know how Jungkook is, he is very serious with his body art so apparently he does trust you a lot already.

“Where exactly are you trying to get it?”, his voice is a lot deeper suddenly as he waits for your fingers to guide to his canvas.

You softly trace the spot at the upper circumference of your right boob, “Here”.

You suck a breath through your nose as his own fingers are mimicking your gesture, lightly pulling down the lace to inspect the fitting of the design at hand.

These violent delights have violent ends

And in their triumph die, like fire and powder

Jungkook traces each word on your burning skin, now leaning dangerously close which was questioning your control to put your palms flat on his pecs. He doesn’t notice that though, his mind is busy creating his own fantasies about the women under him.

After two minutes and twenty four second long of inspection and mutual thirst, Jungkook is selecting a bunch of needles to set into the rotary machine. Five fine sharp like a painter's brush moves in and out at a set regularity as Jungkook tests it out.

The next of his actions had you flushed into a pool of crimson. He gently lifts up your resting torso with one hand while the other is unclasping the hook of your bra, making you half naked for the sake of the tattoo.

"I'm going to start", he says shyly.

You still have time to save yourself from the growing phobia for the object, but another unlogical part of your brain says it's a piece of cake considering you have a whole distracting full course meal in front of you.

It stings at first. Well, okay it hurts like hell but your face is devoid of any indication, except your right hand is gripping on the rim of the chair for dear life.

Jungkook on the other hand had never felt this much diversion of mind during his work. He knows that you are probably hurting very badly, especially for a first timer. He is biting into his lip ring, trying to get this over with for the well-being of your pain and his hormones.

After he had scribed one word into your dermis, you are no longer able to contain the ache so you give out a small squeak out of your glossed lips and the vibration of the machine at his hands stops as he looks at you.

"You want me to stop? ", he is relaxing his face as he cups yours with one hand. You don't want to answer that question, but the drumroll of the current situation is making your heart flutter and everything about the little burn on your chest is forgotten.

"No. It does hurt but I'll be fine I guess", you whisper. His breath is mixing with yours slowly as he is leaning more towards your face. If it isn't for a kiss then you are likely to be disappointed.

"It'll be over before you know it. I'll make it quick", and then he kisses you, a small act to get off the pressure of sexual tension between your bare upper bodies.

Before you think of any tongue in the act, he is breaking off the contact and returns to his position on your chest. He misses the pout that forms on your mouth but right now both of your heads are in cloud nine.

The pain starts again, only this time you are busy reliving how his lips felt in yours; soft, firm and controlled.

You gasp when you feel one of his hands cupping your right breast to further his design but it's lowkey an act empowered by lust which is straining behind the so called professional eyes.

You just sit there flustered out of your mind and then Jungkook is suddenly squeezing, full palm hiding your breasts like it's a protected treasure, but he isn't showing the slightest facial expression other than determined eyes and his lower lip caught between his teeth.

Fuck you can't take it anymore. Jungkook can feel your nipples harden against his hand and his brain isn't helping much to concentrate on the design. But by the grace of some positive karma left on his side, he makes it through the long text and when he is letting go of your chest and standing tall, your skin is popping out with redness on the places the text lays embedded.

He fishes out a mirror for you to look.

"It looks beautiful thank you Jungkook", you smile.

"Can I give you one more tattoo on your left one?", he asks while you are contemplating whether going through the pain is worth it, not to mention you really want to get back at a private space with Jungkook as soon as possible.

"It won't hurt I promise", and then he is kissing you a lot filthier than before; all tongue and teeth, while his hands are grazing on the skin of your waist, pressing a little firmer than before.

The coldness of his lip ring rivaled around your mouth, and you try sucking on it to which Jungkook responds with a growl and pushes his body adamantly against yours.

Skin to skin, you are lost in euphoria of everything happening and finally, you roam your eager hands around his body, to his pecs and the definition of abs.

As your fingers scraped against his scalp, Jungkook is biting eagerly down your jawline to your collarbone and continues his ministrations at a particular spot which is bringing out melodic moan variation from you.

He is going down your skin, licking on your left boob before he starts planting violet tattoos as he had promised. As if it couldn't get better, he is massaging the right breast, in a way to soothe pain.

He loses it when you stutter his name, but he is just a fucking tease when it comes to making love and doing anything in a public space is the last thing he wants to do. There isn't much room for all that he wants right now.

"Why did you choose this particular tattoo Y/n?", he rasps while he is planting small pecks on his artwork, and you reply when he is finally eye level with you

"I just felt like it's a good one", your breaths are uneven and mostly caught in your neck. He pecks your lips before speaking, "Those are lines from Romeo and Juliet".

He takes your hands to trace over a line of text among the many designs on his chest.

which, as they kiss, consume

"We pretty much have a couple tattoo now Y/n", his breath is matched with your pace and you are not very sure how to respond to this new knowledge.

"That's… hot"

You break into giggles along with him, he just can't stop dragging his lips around your skin, but he isn't able to word his feelings right now either.

"I have some aftercare healing ointment for the tattoo at my place, wanna come over?" Now that may be a little lame of an excuse to get his little friend out of his pants but you are too unfazed to analyse any of that.

His hands find place on your ass under the skirt as soon as the door to his apartment closes, and before you know it, you are in his bedroom, sitting on the soft mattress and tongue lost devouring each other.

While eagerly getting rid of every article of clothing, Jungkook notices that you don't have your bra on beneath the shirt, so it's probably back at the parlour, but none of you have the slightest care for it, might as well make an excuse with it later to fuck you in his cabin.

He is pushing you farther towards the headboard, him on top, grinding sensenslesy while your lips mould with his. Though he has his whole body pressed against you, you can't seem to feel his weight at the slightest, every one of his actions were just balanced and perfect.

As Jungkook goes down on you, his smile is evident against your skin, finally able to find out how every one of those scenarios in his head will come to look like. He lets out a satisfied hum being finally able to suck on your tits, your fingers finding place on his hair, twisting it out of stimulation.

His pelvis is flushed harshly against yours, grinding and rubbing against your pussy for as long as he is rejoicing the feeling of moving his tongue around both the nipples.

He stops rubbing after some point and you whimper at the loss but his fingers are soon to meet your core as a quick apology. All your later moans are muffled on his mouth once again.

Feeling the controlled movements of his fingers on your clit, you dig your nails down on his toned shoulders. It's becoming impossible to reciprocate his lewd movements of tongue on your lips at this point as the excitement between your thighs is growing every passing second.

Your mouth remains slightly parted as he removes his face to watch you squirm underneath, lips swollen, deep red and glossy from all the saliva.

He pecks at the shell of your ear before going down past your navel.

You haven't had much heads in the twenty years of your life, most of the guys being completely against the idea which made you feel insecure to bring up the topic in bed, but Jungkook does it like his life depends on it.

He growls at the sight of you dripping into his sheets and he seems to enjoy the idea of being the influence behind it. But none is going through your head at the moment, not the metal on his lips grazing against your folds, or the fact that Jungkook is grinning each time you cry his name, it feels unreal to feel something like this.

His mouth is wrapping against your entrance and he is balancing your lower body on his palms to help him reach the right depths inside you. While all you can muster up is the strength to grope the bedsheets in your fist and close your eyes at the pleasure.

Jungkook brings his head higher to give some attention to the throbbing clit, catching it between his teeth and triggering the bundle of nerves just the perfect dose to have your hips jolting up to his face.

He can't take it himself when you are now whining and chasing for your release, so he is slightly humping against the bed to get some friction.

He licks a slow stripe up till your abdomen and slowly raises to your face, already fucked out and dishevelled to keep up with his dominant orbs.

He swears he had never felt so much warmth and care for sex with any of his previous partners, in relationship or not, all he could think is how good can he treat the pleading eyes underneath him.

"Is there something you like that you want me to do?", he says, fingers grazing once again to your crotch to not deny you from his contact. Only this time he is exploring the tightness of your pretty cunt with two skillful fingers.

Is there? You are not sure. Or in other words you are too caught up at the sense of him fingering you. It's not like you had enough experience or people who cared enough to ask that question. It astounds you that never in this entire foreplay he asked for any favor for himself.

"I'm not sure…", you whisper and then maybe you have something on your mind " um I guess I would like to be choked" Okay this felt embarrassing.

He smiles before sliding his free hand from your lips to your neck, and applies slight force, careful to not hurt you in the slightest bit.

"Is that fine?"

"Yeah", you muffle through the decreasing course of air.

He pulls up your face by the throat to attach lips once more. He just can't seem to get enough of kissing you senseless. Then, the tip of his long ignored cock is teasing the length of your pussy twice before it's stretching you out to the brim.

Bodies flushed and hot, his pace is deep and slow, making sure to kiss the cervix every time he is inside.

He watches as your eyes close shut and flutters around whenever he is grazing against your sweet spot. Both of your ears lost and eager for the moans looming out of each other, his more like what he sounds at the gym. Nice observation Y/n.

In this span of sexual energy you shared, you can make some obvious conclusions. Sex with him was surreal, both in terms of domination and the care he had. Rocking against him and keeping up with his hips was attainable— Compared to the intense eye contact he tries to hold, or the way he cups the side of your face and rubs the pad of his thumb on your cheeks while he kisses you during sinking back in, or the way his eyes glow at the beauty of your body open for him. It makes you feel special and it's difficult to respond to these gestures when you never felt this way before.

Jungkook could tell that from your face, but he hopes he lasts with you enough to help you know the worth you hold. You couldn't think too much about anything when you are busy squeezing around his length and coming twice in the first ten minutes.

By the third orgasm Jungkook is nearing his own and he pulls out to pump a few times before coming on your stomach.

"Was it okay?", his voice is all over the place, still balancing his body on his arms while you are amazed by his strength.

"It was amazing Jungkook", you smile. You have known a lot about Jungkook over the few dates you spent with him. That he likes literature, classics and philosophy, designs tattoos as a subconscious thing, that his game is A-1, and he likes working out almost three hours a day. Good for you. But it wasn't until now you know him to be gentle, like he is afraid to crush you under a feather touch. You don't know him as someone who is staring deep into your face after a good fuck, speaks nothing, smiles widely, and plants a peck on your forehead before getting off the bed.

He does the honors of cleaning both of your bodies with a towel, it's not like you have any strength left in you anyway. And then pulls out an ointment from the bedside table and plops next to your body.

"There. You need this to protect the tattoo", he takes off the nozzle and applies a required amount against the words on your chest and massages against them.

"Now go to sleep Juliet", he mocks, pulling up the sheets over you both "good night".

You snuggle against his hard chest, kissing his pecs before resting on it, "Good night Romeo".

thank you so much for reading!! please leave a feedback!!

★ taglist: @pjmochii (dm, ask or comment to enter the tl!)

★ credits: @/rainbeary on spotify : songs that'll make you feel everything's in slow motion playlist

★ banner & boards: by me :)

a/n: this is my first time writing smut and i basically died of second hand embarrassment during the process. pardon for my untalented ass, i tried this wip continuously for a week and i seriously don't think it could get anything better though it's probably not much.

© banqdanfnfic 2021, all rights reserved. do not modify, translate, or repost my works. modification, translations, and/or redistribution of my works on any platform is strictly prohibited.

[hpimaginesandblurbs]

Hello omg I love your recent smut with draco! If ever, could you perhaps continue their escapade in the dining room? With impreg/breeding kink (if ur comfortable!!) thankieee 💜

part two of this smut

pairing: draco malfoy x reader

warning(s): 18+, oral (female receiving), dirty talk, breeding kink 

word count: 2.0k

a/n: i would give up a lot of things in life to give draco malfoy some kids... sorry not sorry but i’d be the perfect little housewife for him. oops. 

Christmas Day had come and gone in the Malfoy Manor and you and Draco were simply just letting the days roll forward until you had to return to Hogwarts after the New Year. The two of you had exchanged a slew of gifts, a few of the highlights from him being a newly bound set of your favorite book series, multiple new sets of lingerie that you had to open away from his parents, and a stunning set of jewelry covered with emeralds. Everything was insanely expensive, but he swore up and down that money meant nothing when it came to you therefore he would spoil you to his heart's content. 

Currently, dinner with the Malfoy’s was just finishing up and Narcissa and Lucius were off to do whatever they did in the evenings, leaving you and Draco by yourselves in their big house once more. 

You made to leave the grand dining room shortly after they had, but Draco swiftly blocked your exit from the door. He stuck his head out quickly, checking that the coast was clear, before locking the doors and casting a silent Muffliato around the room. 

“What are you doing?” You asked rather indignantly, clearly not remembering the conversation you both had had previously. 

“You know what I’m doing,” he said menacingly, slowly backing you up until your ass was hitting the grand oak table. “I told you I was going to take you in every room in house starting with the dining room, and here we are,” he explained carefully, as if you were too stupid to understand, while he hand crawled up your leg and into your dress. 

You swallowed harshly and agreed to the plans with a quick nod. Not that you really had anything to agree to, he had already decided. 

Soon enough his lips were on your neck and his hand was at the hem of the lace underwear you concealed beneath your dress, part of one of the new lingerie sets he had gotten you. You would never admit that you were anticipating sex by wearing a set, but he would know the second he ripped your dress off. 

“One day I’ll have you in every single room in this house,” he mused, his lips against your neck, the heat of his breath making a shiver run down your spine. “You like the thought of that?” He asked, a smirk on his face and his eyes twinkling when he pulled away to look at you. 

“Yeah,” you breathed, a brush crawling up your cheeks at all the obscene images running through your head. 

He made a noise of agreement and began hiking your dress up until it was shed from your body and on the floor beside his feet. “Lay back for me,” he instructed, pulling a chair over to where you were and promptly sitting down. 

Oh. He was going to have the best damn meal of his life if the look in his eyes had anything to say. 

You did as he told you, splaying yourself out before him on the dark wood, arching your back just enough so he could see the pretty way your breasts sat in the bra he had picked for you. 

Silently, he stripped you of the thin lace and exposed you fully to him. When he saw how wet you were, his eyes shot to you for a moment and the usual icy color was replaced with a stormy grey so dark it was intimidating. 

He didn’t waste time in bringing his mouth down to you, immediately sucking on your clit and swirling his tongue around the nerves, shooting a rush of pleasure through you that forced you to curl your toes.

“Be as loud as you want for me. No one can hear you but me,” he assured you, knowing how nervous it made you to do these things in his house despite the thrill it gave you both. 

But you trusted him, so you let all of the noises you couldn’t control out into the room, so loud you swore you saw the chandelier vibrate. He was so naturally gifted at this that it took almost no time at all for your core to tighten around his tongue that was fucking you generously. You could feel your own wetness and his spit trailing down your skin and onto the table beneath, knowing that the puddle would only grow once he was inside of you. 

“Cum on my tongue. Now,” he practically growled out, desperate to taste you, proved by the way his tongue almost went into overdrive. You weren’t sure how he made it move like that, but you were so thankful for it. 

His tongue was hitting all of the right places while a finger lightly trailed around your clit, causing your back to arch off the table and hips to grind further into his mouth. You came with a shout, gripping his platinum hair and dragging him as far in as you could, practically suffocating him. He brought you down gracefully from your orgasm, his tongue never quitting until he was pulling away from you and standing up. 

“You don’t even understand how good you look right now,” he said lowly, looming over you now that he had kicked the chair out of the way and was at his full height in front of you. 

“You don’t look too bad yourself,” you joked back, taking in his all black suit that he had already peeled the jacket off of. He looked too fucking good for your own sanity.

He looked like he had some wise retort back, but he reluctantly swollen it when he reached down for his belt, pulling it out of his belt loops in one go. It made your core clench around nothing and you knew he could see the way you were dripping down onto the table just from that. 

“Look at you. You knew you were getting fucked tonight didn’t you? Wearing all this for me and being this fucking wet?” He asked, bending down over you while using one hand to undo the button on his dress pants. 

“Didn’t plan anything,” you argued, your lips trailing from his neck to his perfect jawline. 

“Is that right? You didn’t want to get fucked on my dining room table? Didn’t want me to fill you up with my cum?” He asked, his erect cock now fully out and clearly throbbing, aching for you just as much as you were aching for him. 

You didn’t say anything, just moved your body until you were at the edge of the table and spread your legs seductively slow, your eyes never leaving his.  

“You’re my perfect little whore, you know that?” He groaned before lining up his cock with your core and thrusting inside. You were so wet it was almost easy to take him, but the stretch still forced you to cling to his arms for dear life, a groan of your own leaving your lips. 

“Tell me what you are,” he said aggressively, pounding into you furiously. His grip on your hips was so harsh you knew there would be bruises left over for you to marvel at in the morning. 

“You’re little whore,” you whimpered, your head thrown back against the hard wood as your body was rocked back and forth. 

“Good girl,” he praised, his forehead pressed tightly against your with a leg of your thrown over his shoulder now. The angle was perfect, the friction delicious and he was inside of you so deep you could feel him in your stomach. “One day we’ll own this house and I’ll fuck you everywhere until you’re so full of my cum you’re a leaking mess. So full until you’re carrying my fucking child.” 

It shocked you at first, that he was thinking so far into the future in the midst of this moment, but you quickly brushed it off because the images he had conjured up in your head sent a rush of pleasure through you. 

“Yeah? You like that?” He asked, growing slightly breathless as his thrusts never once faltered, but he kept going. “You want me to fill you up so much and so fucking deep that you give me a child? I’ll do it over and over again until we have a whole fucking Quidditch team worth of kids. You’re going to be so fucking perfect,” he rambled, loving nothing more than to run his mouth during sex. The only excuse he had for it was that it got you off too, but you knew he just liked to hear his own voice. 

“Please, Draco. Want that. Cum in me, please,” you whined back through a moan, gripping his arms and attaching your lips to his. 

He took over the kiss easily, you were too lost in pleasure to fight for control, and his tongue danced with you. You could still taste yourself on him, making you groan, but he pulled away. 

“Open your mouth,” he demanded and you did so without questions. What you didn’t expect for him to do was spit in your mouth but that’s exactly what he did. His spit moved down your tongue and to the back of your throat and he watched you intently as you swallowed it all down, the taste of yourself lingering behind. “My perfect girl,” he said more softly, his fingers finding a home in your hair. 

“I’m close,” you admitted, blushing furiously because you knew he’d know it was all the spitting and the talking that had gotten you there. 

“Cum on my cock and I’ll give you what you want,” he told you, one of his hands coming down on your clit and giving you no choice but to do exactly what he wanted. 

You couldn’t hold it back anymore, you core so tight around his cock that you knew it was a vice. Your vision went white as you exploded around him, your walls milking his cock with every final thrust he gave you. 

He came with a groan, burying his face in the crook of your neck while he held you impossibly close to his body, his hips slowing to a gentle roll as he emptied himself inside of you. 

You both slowly came down from you high and you were so thankful you were laying down because you could tell he just wanted to collapse. He held himself upright though, his forearms surrounding your head and breathing deeply into your skin. You were both covered in a fine layer of swear, you back sticking to the wood and your skin was basically one with his at this point. 

Once he managed the strength, he peeled away from you and pulled out, quickly casting a Scourgify charm over the both of you in an effort to leave no traces behind. He left gentle kisses over the skin of your shoulder until he was ready to stand up and when he did he looked down at you as if you were some sort of goddess. You were in his eyes, you supposed. 

“That was better than I’ve ever imagined it to be,” he said softly, hands trailing over your body. 

“You’ve imagined this?” You asked, still a little out of breath, but you raised an eyebrow at him. 

“I’ve pictured fucking you all over this house with a hand on myself more times than I’d care to admit,” he chuckled, reaching for your lace underwear and slowly dragging the fabric back up your legs. 

“Oh right, ‘when we own this house’,” you mocked him gently, nudging him gently with your foot. 

He turned the cutest shade of pink and decidedly avoided your eyes. “Didn’t think you caught that,” he admitted quietly. 

“It was cute. I quite like the thought, actually,” you confessed boldly. 

“Yeah?” He asked, his eyes finally meeting yours with a small smile playing on his face. When all you did was nod back with a giggle, he scooped you up carefully and began carrying you back through the doors. “Well then let’s go pick another place in our future home, shall we?” 

[tanyawritesstories]

Pull | Tup x Reader

I just realized I hit 200 followers, thank y'all so much!! My writer's block continues but luckily I have a few fics stored up from ages ago, like this one. Enjoy and thank you for 200!! 🥰😘

Word count: 2.7k

Warnings: NSFW, smut, oral (m & f receiving), masturbation, hair pulling, cockwarming, fluff

•••

He was exhausted, everyone was. Tup was especially exhausted after being punched in the gut by an unarmed clanker. He just wanted to shower and sleep, and see you. He'd been planet-side for weeks, but now that the campaign was over they were allowed to head back to the Resolute.

Tup was lucky his feet were able to carry him back to your room. You weren't there so he assumed you were working the late shift again. He collapsed into a chair for a moment, resting until he felt like he had enough energy to stand in the shower for half an hour. He took off as much of his armor as he could while still sitting down before having to stand and remove the rest.

He had just entered the refresher when he heard the main door open. He poked his head out and saw you walk in, looking just as exhausted as him. You peeled off your bloody medic coat and tossed it into a bin to be washed, or discarded.

“Hey,” he said with a small smile. You turned to look at him. “Hey, Tup. When did you get back?”

“A couple hours ago,” he answered, “I was about to have a shower, do you want to join me?”

“Kriff yes,” you accepted. You stepped into the refresher with him and began shedding your layers of clothing. Tup turned on the water and removed the top of his blacks while he was waiting for the water to warm up. “Rough day?” He asked. “Like you wouldn’t believe. Was the campaign that tough or was Skywalker being particularly reckless this time?” You replied. Tup checked the water a last time and stripped out of his blacks completely. “It was a little of both,” he told you.

Tup watched as you took the last of your clothes off and stepped into the shower, pulling him in after you. “What about you, baby? You’re not hurt are you? I’m glad you weren’t in the medbay,” you said, hugging him from behind. You rested your head against his warm back, feeling the water run over your arms as it cascaded down his front.

“Just a metal fist to my stomach, I’ll be fine,” he said. You removed your arms, “sorry.” He assured you he was fine again and you started massaging his back. You ran your hands over his tan skin, gently pressing your thumbs into his shoulders. That’s when you noticed his hair was still up. It was messy, tangled, and dirty but still held into a bun. You laughed at the fact that his hair was able to hold up better than yours.

“Tup, honey, your hair is a mess. Let me wash it for you, I know you love when I play with your hair,” you said. You reached up and took his hair out letting it fall over his shoulders. You made sure to get it completely wet before working on it further.

You were right, Tup did love when you played with his hair, a little too much. His scalp was more sensitive than his brothers and it felt like heaven whenever you played with or tugged on his hair. Tup didn’t exactly have the energy for sex right now and he knew you didn’t either. He would just have to try and not let it affect him like it usually did. He tried to preoccupy himself by lathering his chest and arms with soap.

You worked your fingers through his hair, starting at his scalp and running your fingers through the length of his dark wavy hair. Most of it was fine but occasionally your fingers would get caught on a knot or a tangle and pull his hair a little bit. You apologized every time, knowing he probably didn't want you yanking his head around right now.

Tup on the other hand was having a difficult time keeping quiet. Every time your fingers got stuck and pulled, he had to bite down on his lip to keep from moaning or whimpering. He looked down a little and found himself rock hard from your ministrations. He cursed himself in his mind, you were just trying to do him a favor, why did it have to turn him on?

You got his hair untangled and squirted some shampoo into your hand before beginning to massage his head. Tup's eyes nearly rolled back into his head and he bit down on part of his hand, trying not to make any noise. He didn't want you to feel obligated to please him just because he was aroused. You were tired and you probably wanted to go to bed, not exhaust yourself even more by trying to get him off.

An idea popped into his head. Since you were behind him and had no view of his front, or the effect you were currently having on him, he might be able to fix this. If he could quietly jerk himself off without you knowing, you could both just go to bed once you were done showering.

Tup took his other hand, still covered in soap, and brought it to his throbbing length. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to keep quiet. He slowly stroked up and down his cock, now trying to keep his breathing normal. Your nails dragged against his scalp and his knees nearly buckled. The hand on his cock now speeding up, long drags had turned into quick tugs. It felt so damn good. The combination of your fingers working through and pulling his hair and the simulation to his cock was getting him close very fast.

Tup had been sure he was being quiet and trying to breathe steady, but what he hadn't accounted for was the growing tension in his muscles as he got closer to his release. You had noticed he was growing stiff and almost starting to shake. It confused you and you slowed your hands to a stop, letting the water rinse out the soap in his hair.

"Babe, are you ok?" You asked. He didn't reply, just let out a shaky breath. You placed your hands on his waist. "Tup," you called again, "sweetheart, what's wrong?" You nudged his sides trying to get him to turn around and face you but he didn't move. You decided to move around him since he wasn't going to, and that's when you saw his situation.

He was biting down hard on the skin between his thumb and index finger while his other hand had stopped moving on his dick and was now squeezing the base. He let out a breath and looked at you. "I'm sorry, baby. I couldn't help it," he said, looking away in embarrassment. "I thought I could....without you noticing, but.."

You cupped his cheek and turned his head to look at you. "It's alright, hun, I should've known better," you said. "Now let me take care of it for you." Tup looked worried and grabbed your hands in his before you could touch him. "No! That's exactly why I was doing it myself. You're exhausted and need rest, I don't want you to feel obligated to please me whenever I get a hard on," he rambled. "It'll go away, I'll be fine."

You raised an eyebrow at him, "Yeah, right. Tup just let me-"

"No!" He persisted, "you've spent all day taking care of my brothers, you need time to relax." You wiggled your hands out of his grasp and placed them on his cheeks again. "Yes, and now I want to spend my time taking care of my favorite boy," you said, your expression loving. Tup still looked a little embarrassed. "But you-"

"Tup, did it ever occur to you that I might enjoy sucking you off? That I do it because I enjoy it too?" You saw his eyes move around as he considered your words, a slight blush dusting his cheeks. "I like making you feel good, Tup, it makes me feel good too. Now will you let me touch you?" His shoulders sagged in defeat and he looked at the shower floor again. You reached out and took him in your hand, making him hiss. You walked him back so he was leaning his back against the shower wall. You whispered a 'please' and he slowly nodded.

With his permission, you sank to your knees and licked a teasing stripe from base to tip. You swirled your tongue around his sensitive tip before closing your lips around it. Tup couldn't hold back the moan that flew past his lips, throwing his head back against the tiled wall. You slowly took him into your mouth until he hit the back of your throat. You held there for a moment until you heard him whimper above you and you started bobbing your head. You used your hands on what you couldn't fit in your mouth, you felt a hand come to rest at the back of your head. He didn't apply any pressure, he just needed something to ground him.

He was rapidly approaching his high, having been so close already. His moans bounced around the room, the sound music to your ears. You knew he was close and you sucked harder, beginning to gently massage his balls with your other hand. He moaned out your name, his fingers digging into your hair. Your mouth was driving him crazy and your tongue hit every spot that made him twitch in your mouth. You knew just how to work him into a whimpering mess with your velvet mouth.

You sucked hard before pulling off of him and standing up. You kept working him closer with one hand while worming the other into his hair, scraping your nails along his scalp. A high pitched moan escaped his throat and he grabbed onto your arm. "I know you're close, baby. Does that feel good?" You cooed. Tup bit his lip, whimpering and cursing under his breath. "Y-yes, feels incredible," he breathed.

Your hand sped up, jerking him furiously. "C'mon, Tup," you urged. "Be a good boy and cum for me." You finished your words with a sharp tug on his hair. Tup shouted out as he came, spilling his seed on your stomach and his. You worked him through his orgasm, letting the water wash away his release. The tension was gone from his body and he looked more relaxed. You reached up and pressed a kiss to his lips.

"Thank you," he whispered. "Will you let me return the favor?" You sighed. "You need to learn to be a little selfish, baby," you said.

You both finished washing up and turned off the shower. You dried off and Tup let you brush his hair and dry it as best you could. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a hug before looking down at you affectionately.

"Can I please return the favor now?" He asked. You forwent clothes and walked into the bedroom naked. "Babe, you injured your stomach. I don't want you laying on it just for me," you told him. Tup followed you into the bedroom, grabbing your shoulder and turning you to face him. "Then how about you ride my face? I enjoy making you feel good too," he said, smirking fondly. He leaned down to whisper in your ear. "You know I love the way you taste."

You felt yourself grow wet at his words. You sighed again, he was so sweet, how could you deny him? Besides, fair is fair. "Alright, I suppose," you gave in.

Tup laid back on the bed and got comfortable before motioning you towards him. You climbed on the bed and straddled his chest. He put his arms under your thighs and around your back, urging you forward towards his mouth. "Are you sure, baby? You're already tired and I don't want to suffocate you," you whined. "I'm never too tired to love you," Tup smiled. He nudged you up more, nearly getting you into position. "C'mon, love. Lemme taste," he begged sweetly. There was something about the way he said it that made you give in. You moved over his face but couldn't make eye contact with him, or lower yourself onto his mouth.

Tup exhaled, the warm air fanning over your rapidly moistening center. He parted your folds with one hand, lightly blowing, causing you to shudder. He lifted his head and licked a quick stripe up your slit. You squeaked in surprise and pleasure, chancing a look down at him. He smiled warmly at you and slowly pulled you down. "Just enjoy it, I'm gonna make you feel good."

Your cunt finally rested on his mouth and he immediately got to work, ripping moans from you as he devoured your pussy. One look at Tup might make you think he was innocent and inexperienced, but Maker the things he could do with that mouth. You dug your fingers into his hair and he moaned, sending pleasant vibrations through you. You felt his hips buck into the air as he got worked up again.

You tried to resist grinding into his face as he ate you out. His tongue expertly playing with your clit, flicking over it and sucking on it. In between which he would stick it into you and wiggle it around, tasting every delicious inch he could reach. You kept a firm grip on his hair, pulling when he hit a specifically good spot.

“Tup,” you moaned out, grabbing the headboard. You knew without a doubt he was hard again. You took your hand off the headboard and slid it down his body, intent on pleasing him too. He was having none of it. He wrapped his lips around your bud and sucked hard, making you scream and grab the headboard again.

You could feel him chuckle into your folds and you looked down at him, seeing the innocent look in his eyes. That look combined with him sliding two fingers into you and abusing your clit with his tongue, sent you over the edge. You pulled harshly on his hair and your mouth flew open in a silent scream of ecstasy. Tup slurped up the juices that spilled from within you, gently cleaning you up as you came down from your high.

Once you got your senses back, you looked behind you. Sure enough, Tup was hard again. “Baby, now look what happened,” you pouted with a smile. He smiled back at you and helped you lay down next to him. “Actually, can I try something I’ve wanted to do for a while?” He asked. You rolled over to face him, pulling the sheets up over the both of you. "What's that, love?" You asked, clearly even more tired than before. Tup blushed and nervously played with a ringlet of his hair. "C-can I - I want, uh, I want to fall asleep inside of you," he stuttered out.

You were somewhat taken aback, but you were glad he told you, it showed he was getting comfortable sharing his sexual wants and fantasies with you. You smiled groggily at him. "That sounds like heaven," you replied.

You rolled to face away from him, looking over your shoulder with an enticing yet exhausted expression. Tup scooted closer to you so his front was pressed tight to your back. He helped you lift your leg up and you felt his cock slip in between your thighs. You let him hold your leg while you lined him up, pushing the head of his cock inside. Tup let out a shaky breath and slowly eased himself inside you, sheathing himself to the hilt. He lowered your leg back down and groaned deeply at how tight you got. You hummed contently at the feeling of him nestled snug and deep within you. Tup wrapped an arm around your middle to keep you close. You felt like paradise around him, your walls silky and warm. It was oddly comforting, a feeling of closeness and possession that went beyond the act of passion itself.

"Goodnight, my love," you whispered, placing your arm on top of his. He placed a kiss to your shoulder blade, "Goodnight, cyare. Sleep well."

[briefinquiries]

Luke Alvez x Reader: Worshipped

Prompt: You’re feeling a little insecure and just need Luke to show you how much he loves you. 

Tagged: @ssaic-jareau​ , @alvezstan​ , @saintd0lce​ , @ogmilkis​ , @reidswords​, @ssa-morgan​ , @garcias-batcave​ ,  @akimagies​, @zhangyixingxing1​ , @pinkdiamond1016​

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: smut

A/N:  this one officially killed me :) as promised here’s some luke fluff / smut. 

You were curled up in bed, reading an old book, when Luke got home that night.  You hadn’t had a good night of sleep since he left for a case in New Mexico three days ago.  This wasn’t surprising, since you never slept without him there, but the relief that washed over you upon his arrival was evident. 

You hear his keys clink against the granite countertop, before his footsteps gradually grow closer and closer to the bedroom.  

“You awake?” he asked, peering into the room.  

You sit up in bed, setting your book on the nightstand before throwing the comforter off of your body.

“No, no, no-” he interrupts your movements.  “Don’t get up.  You look so comfortable.”

Your lips form into a pathetic pout, but before you can protest the fact that you wanted to get up so that you could properly greet him, Luke’s crossing the room to do just that.  He leans over where you’re sitting and presses a soft kiss on the top of your head.  

“Hi baby,” he whispers into your hair. 

You hum, closing your eyes to his touch. His familiar smell filled your nostrils and his warmth radiated into you. “Missed you.”

“Missed you too,” he replies.  He pulls away all too quickly and turns to walk towards the master bath.  “Be right back,” he promises, before crossing the threshold. 

You relaxed back against the pillow, smiling peacefully to yourself.  Nothing was better than having Luke home.  

You go back to your book, only getting through a few paragraphs before he emerges from the bathroom, smelling of mint toothpaste and face cleanser.  You look up long enough to notice that Luke has traded in his jeans for a pair of black, athletic shorts.  They sit low on his hips, revealing his defined ‘v’ line.  You marvel for a moment at his tanned, bare chest before looking back to your page.  

Luke digs through the top drawer of his dresser briefly.  After shutting it, you barely hear him cross the room, yet again.  Only when he approaches your side of the bed and sits just beside where your legs were outstretched do you look up at him. 

Without speaking, Luke grabs hold of the top of your book and tosses it carelessly to the side.  

“What’d you do that-”

But your sentence remains unfinished as Luke leans in and presses his lips to yours.  The kiss is slow, every move he makes is deliberate.  His hand cups your cheek lightly and you don’t hide the hum of satisfaction that leaves your lips as his thumb traces down the length of your jaw line.  

Luke’s other hand finds its way to your hip, which makes you hesitate briefly.  You trusted Luke, wholly and completely.  But you couldn’t help but feel a little self conscious whenever he touched your stomach and hips.  The man was sculpted like a Greek God, so it was only natural to feel insecure about your softer tummy. 

You try to ignore the little voice in your head that was currently screaming at you.  He can feel your fat. He’s repulsed by it. 

You shift in bed, grabbing the hand he had resting on your abdomen and clutching it in your own instead.  Luke doesn’t think much of the gesture.  Instead, he uses the moment to slide further onto the bed, never breaking your kiss as he moved on top of you. 

Luke’s hand moves to the hem of your shirt and begins pulling the fabric up.  He wants you to shed the layer.  You’re not sure why tonight was so bad- but the voices in your head wouldn’t stop going on about how unflattering you looked in comparison to your boyfriend.  Luke and his perfectly sculpted abs were on top of you, and having your flab on full display in the brightly lit bedroom was unsettling.  

You pull away, your lips breaking contact for the first time in minutes. 

“What’s wrong?” Luke asks, when his eyes land on your worried face. His lips are flush and swollen. 

“Nothing,” you try to act normal, but Luke can see through the act. 

“Tell me,” he whispers.  His palm is resting on your thigh.  He squeezes the soft flesh reassuringly, but it just makes you more insecure. 

“C-can we just turn off the lights?” you ask weakly. 

Luke leans in again, this time his lips attaching themselves onto the tender spot on your neck he knows always gets you going.  “But I wanna see you,” he says, his voice low and gravelly.  It sends shivers down your spine, but does nothing to ease your anxiety.  

You squirm out from under his grasp, shaking your head.  “I- I just wanna turn them off.” 

Luke’s stupidly perfect face contorts into a frown, he backs away from you, giving you space, but his eyes never once leave you.  “What’s going on?” he probes.

You’re shaking your head, fighting back tears. 

“It’s nothing- I’d just feel more comfortable if it were dark.”

He nods slowly, his lips slightly parted as he tries to understand.  “Okay. Can you tell me why?”

You bite your lip and stare down at your lap.  You can tell he’s officially worried now, because his head keeps dipping lower to try to get you to look at him,  but you refuse to meet his gaze. 

“Baby-” he pleads so softly.  And finally you think, fuck it. 

“It’s nothing, I’m just- I’m a little insecure is all.”

Luke’s entire face falls.  “What?” he asks, like he can’t just believe it. 

“Luke-”

But he ignores your protests.  “With me?”

You scoff, which only makes him look even more hurt.  

“I mean, look at you,” you gawk, motioning towards his figure.  “You’re…” your voice trails off.  “You’re perfect.”

“So are you-” he tries to interject, but you cut him off. 

“No, I’m not.  I’m not, and that’s okay- but sometimes, especially in the light, I’m a little insecure.  It’s no big deal-” 

“Don’t I get a say?” Luke asks.  You watch as he shifts his weight on the bed. 

“In what?” you wonder. 

He sighs.  “In deciding how perfect or imperfect you are?”

Your eyes fall to the safety of your lap again, your cheeks burning at his words.

Luke scoots forward and collects your small hands in his much larger ones delicately.  “Baby please- I want you to know how perfect you are to me.”

Slowly, Luke brought your fingertips to his lips, where he planted the softest kiss on your knuckles.  You sighed, feeling guilty for even bringing any of this up in the first place.  But you knew that each word you heard Luke say would help make you better- he made you feel loved and worthy. 

And in that moment, you decided that maybe you did just need to be praised and taken care of for a night.

“I’m so lucky that I get to be with you.” Luke said.  He leaned over and kissed you again, but with slightly more intensity this time. With his tongue, he licked your lower lip, you immediately opened your mouth wider, allowing him deeper access. Your tongues started sliding against one another. 

Once again, Luke reached for the fabric of your t-shirt, and when Luke felt you stiffen underneath his touch he pressed a kiss to your temple. 

“I’m gonna take care of you, baby,” he whispered in your ear, his words making you melt against him.

The atmosphere was heavy, and you couldn’t seem to get enough air in your lungs. Luke’s mouth on your neck was doing wonders and all you could do was desperately grab at his biceps. You liked the feeling of his muscles moving when he did.

“Are you okay?” he asked lovingly. 

You nodded frantically, “Yeah, please keep going.” 

Luke smirked at the thought of you begging for him, and suddenly, you felt his hands sliding underneath your shirt, brushing your sides tenderly. Between his mouth still working at your neck and now his fingertips, you couldn’t help but arch your back and moan.

“Can we get rid of this now?” Luke asked, he was motioning towards the tshirt his hands were currently under. 

And suddenly, you felt so safe, so cared for, that it didn’t seem to matter as much.  So, you nod, and Luke quickly peels off the fabric.  

Almost subconsciously, you let go of Luke’s biceps to cover your exposed tummy.

“Don’t hide from me,” Luke pleaded.  He was now kissing down your chest and making his way towards your abdomen. “Wanna show you how much I worship you,” he grumbled. “All of you.”

You moaned with pleasure.  

Luke kissed across your stomach, leaving wet marks all over you, while he simultaneously squeezed the fleshy part of your hips.  

“So beautiful,” he whispered.  

Slowly, Luke worked his way back up your body, his mouth only stopping once he reached your chest.  He began kissing and licking at your nipples and you knew that you were soon going to be a writhing mess. 

When Luke moved up your body, he pushed his hips forward.  Despite the several layers of fabric, you could feel him hardening beneath you.  You whined and gripped at Luke’s hair.  You knew pulling at his hair would make him groan, and of course, you were right. 

Luke detached his wet lips from your chest, kissing your lips again, murmuring sweet nothings in between breaths.

“My beautiful- perfect girl,” he said.  “Gonna love you- all of you- forever.”  

Tears were streaming down your face. You felt so loved and so needy for Luke. 

You couldn’t wait any longer.

“Please, oh my god, please…” you cried; your voice breaking. 

“I got you, baby.” Luke said, gripping at the hem of your pajama shorts.  Luke lowered himself down your body.  He bent forward to undo the drawstring with his teeth and suddenly, you couldn't breath. This is the closest Luke had been to your heat all night and you wanted him more than anything. 

Once you were bare and writhing beneath him, Luke dipped his head between your legs.  You gasped when he wrapped his arms around your thighs to spread them apart.  As soon as his lips attached to your skin, you let your head fall back against the pillow. Luke licked up your folds and sucked at your clit and kissed your inner thighs.  Your hand was squeezing his curls between your fingers, as you desperately tried to find some sort of release.  He used his fingers to part your throbbing fold, now pumping and licking at you wildly.  A heavy, guttural groan escaped your lips.  

“I’m so close,” you were barely able to mutter.

Luke hums between your legs.  And with a curl of his finger and flick of his tongue, you completely let go, unraveling and crying out in relief beneath him.  

You go limp on the mattress and Luke finally emerges from between your legs.  He gives your inner thigh a soft kiss before crawling up your body.  

“So beautiful,” he repeats, lust clouding his eyes. 

By now, you’re exhausted, but you want more.  You can’t seem to get enough of him, so you pull him in for a long, sweet kiss. 

Luke smirks, willingly leaning in to your embrace. 

Your hands trail down his back until they reach the top of his shorts.  You snake your fingertips beneath the band and mutter, “Why are these still on?” 

Luke chuckles and shimmies out of them, freeing himself from their confines.  

Carefully, Luke straddles you, once again, lining himself up with you before whispering. “You ready, baby?” 

“Yes- please.” You stuttered. 

When Luke entered you, you wondered how it was possible that it got better every time- how he felt better every time. You gripped onto Luke’s shoulders with everything you had. 

As Luke began moving, both of you moaned out in content. 

Luke’s thrusts started deep and slow, but after a few moments, he began picking up his pace as he started to chase after his release. You pulled him in, your mouths colliding messily in between thrusts and Luke had no choice but to go faster.

He wanted to make you come again. 

Wildly, Luke slipped his hand between your bodies and started to rub the bundle of nerves above your folds.  You arch your back and let your head fall back, moaning at the contact. 

Luke uses this opportunity to attach his lips to your neck, nipping at the skin lightly. 

“Feel so good,” you stammer incoherently.

You were close again and you bit your lip with the urge.  

“Come for me, baby,” Luke grumbled against your throat.  His deep, strained voice was enough to push you over the edge.  You squeeze your eyes shut, and begin writhing beneath him.  

Luke thought it was just about the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. 

And just like every other time, the feeling of you clenching beneath him led to his own release.  He kept thrusting through your orgasms, until you both were breathless.  Luke all but collapsed on top of you, exhausted, before rolling onto his side.  With what little energy he had left, he wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his chest tightly.  

“Believe me when I say you’re perfect now?” he asks sleepily, kissing the top of your head lightly.   

You hum in response, feeling so content and happy in his arms.  Before giving in to your exhaustion, you heard Luke whisper into your ear how much he loved you.

You had no trouble falling asleep that night. 

[cowboyified]

Below are some WIPs I’m releasing into the wild. They were all written at different times over the past two years so any mistakes/cliches you can blame on past June, I don’t know them. 

Go, be free.

This first one I think is the one I’m most fond of. I had such a vision for it; bottlecaps in trees, river swimming, making out against the fridge, all that good stuff you get with weecest. 

The summer Sam is seventeen they stay in one place for long enough Dean starts referring to it as ‘home’. 

It’s an old farmhouse, miles from any other structure, bar an outhouse and hay shed. There’s a porch running the length of the front and back, the wooden boards pulled up from their nails, wavy with the weather. Weatherboard paint peeling, wallpaper inside torn and missing in most places. 

They’re squatting, technically. The property owned by a family saved by hunters once, friends of friends of Bobby’s, too distraught by what they’d witnessed to raise their kids on cursed land. Dean had told Sam that Dad had been told by Bobby that had been told by Pastor Jim that it was chupacabras. A whole pack of ‘em, feeding off the lambs in the back paddock, tried to take a bite out of the baby girl and Sam had said, “As if man, those things are tiny, I’ve seen pictures, you could kick one and it would limp away like a fucking chihuaha, you scared of chihuahas, huh, Dean?” But Sam still hikes his sheet up under his chin when he hears scuffling under their window between sleep. 

There’s remnants of the house’s past inhabitants still scattered around the place. Sam had stood and slid two inches on the wheels of a tiny replica car that had been jammed under the couch the second day they arrived, piffed it at his brother’s head, who’d caught it, exclaimed that it was Camero, dude, treat her with some respect and had sat it on top of the fridge. 

The bookshelf in the corner of their shared bedroom holds mostly dust and tattered occult books stolen from libraries from all over the country, left by hunters who have found what they’ve needed and moved on. There are a few of the worst Stephen King novels shoved haphazardly on the top shelf and Sam finds something funny in that, the irony in enjoying bad horror when the real deal lurks behind the screen door. 

Dean gives him a look when Sam pulls down and cracks open a copy of The Tommyknockers, snorts, “Haven’t you read that one already?” and Sam says, tucking himself into bed, “Yeah, it fucking sucks, King was royally off his head while writing it, that’s why it’s so good.” Sam finishes three quarters of it in one sitting while listening to Dean’s quiet snores from the other side of the room. 

It’s a ten minute drive to the closest town, an off the highway, invisible to the outside world, kind of one-street community. No reason to take the exit if you don’t already know it’s there, one store, one gas station, one bar in an old brick post office building, unfitting, the carpet pulled up at the corners but home to the best fries Sam has ever had in his life. 

Sam follows Dean out to the courtyard, neither of them are legally old enough to drink but there’s nothing else to do but to get respectably drunk in a place like this, anyone that has lived long enough in the true country is some kind of functioning alcoholic, so Dean orders a beer and isn’t asked for ID. In a town small enough for everyone to know every intricate detail in the threads of dirty laundry, they are foreigners. No one knows where they’re from or where they’re going and Sam knows that Dean likes it that way.

It’s never been a secret that Sam prefers to feel like he has a part in everyday normalcy. Dean thrives under anonymity, gets a kick out of it because it makes him feel dangerous. He had stopped accompanying Sam to school two states ago, a silent agreement with their father when Dean had come home early and helped John cut splits into the tips of bullets instead. Like hell I’m signing up for compulsory extra curricular activities. What’s the point in making friends with people whose biggest concerns are the answers to whatever bullshit test and who fucked who last Friday? 

Finding comfort in a nine-to-five kind of community is a flaw Sam’s been burdened to deal with. 

It’s early afternoon, the courtyard is empty and the table they chose rocks on its legs every time Dean slides his drink over for Sam to share. It’s bitter and Sam hasn’t had enough beer in his life to know if it’s supposed to be like that or if it has just soured from the long journey it took to get from the brewery to their glass. He drinks it and doesn’t grimace because his brother is looking at him through the rays of warm country sun. 

“Tastes like piss, huh,” Dean says, leaning forward out of the light so Sam can see him clearly again. He takes back the glass. 

“S’not that bad,” Sam replies, rubbing the leftover condensation into his hand, doesn’t look at Dean, finds it hard these days, twists in his gut all wrong. Sam knows why. 

His brother hums, “There’s gotta be something else to do around here.”

Sam thinks, Dad’s left the car, we can go wherever we want, but doesn’t say it because his brother is loyal to a disastrous fault. 

That’s a recurring thought. Sam in the shotgun seat, his brother behind the wheel, driving away. Just away, to someplace else and they’d be okay because they’d have each other and all Sam ever needs is his brother, like water. But John will be back in two weeks, term starts again in a month and he needs his father to sign the enrollment forms. Two more years. 

“You see the old dredge outside of town?” Sam asks, remembers passing it when they arrived, all twisted, rusting metal, the bones of it against the setting sun.

“What did I tell you about respecting your elders?”

“You told me that they all smell like porridge and are easily susceptible to sleight of hand. No, Dean, Dredge,” Sam stresses. “Big rusty old machine that pulls minerals out of water.”

“Looking to strike big, Sammy?”

“Yeah, you see, my family is poor, brother at home too dumb to get a job. Our father went to get milk and never came back,” Sam sniffs for effect. “I can’t go home empty handed again, sir.” 

“Ah, a real sob story,” Dean nods in understanding, tips his head back and finishes the beer. “Let’s get out there then, sonny. We shan't let that simpleton, downright fool of a brother go hungry.” Dean jabs Sam in the ribs when he stands, hard enough for him to gasp, gets Sam’s head under his arm before he can recover. Sam claws embarrassingly at his brother’s torso, face pressed warm into the side of Dean’s waist. 

“I will pray for us young Samuel, for I too, dream of riches,” his brother is exclaiming, tripping them out and onto the street. “I only ask that we share whatever bounty dredged as I saw the most exquisite pony a few miles back and I simply must have it.”

And Sam thinks - with his flushed cheek hard against Dean’s skin through the thin sweaty fabric of his shirt, heart beating too fast against his ribs in a way that has nothing to do with exhaustion - you can have it all. 

---

Sam’s brother’s perpetual state of being is ten miles over the speed limit; this can be applied to almost every aspect of him. Dean goes and goes and rarely stops. They’re pushing double that out of town, north of their property, into the forever stretch of flat land and Sam loses himself in it. That idea of away, of going and going and that Dean could take him because he’s an expert in the field. 

The Impala blasts Born To Be Wild and Sam imagines the lyrics spreading out over the dry grass. He rolls the window down and throws his head out, trying his best to keep his eyes open against the road’s wind. The sun beats down, warmth soaking through and into his bones and Sam laughs as the cattle turn to catch a glimpse of them soaring. 

Dean pulls him in, tugs at the back of his shirt, says something along the lines of, what are you, a dog? Should get you a shock collar for all the times you’re a little bitch, but Sam can’t hear him over the roaring of the open window and the look of transparent glee on Dean’s face, it’s loud and assaulting and Sam has to turn away because seeing Dean like that wobbles him dangerously from the nonchalant facade he has going on in relation to how he feels about his brother. But mostly his face hurts from smiling too wide.

Used as a warm up last year. Boyking!Sam

He thinks he’s in Louisiana, maybe. That he got here in the tray of a pickup and that he couldn’t feel the wind in his hair like maybe he should. The driver had stopped for a piss-break and Sam had snapped his neck without his hands.

He rubs them together now, tries to feel guilty but there’s nothing to feel guilty about because his hands are clean; he doesn’t have to use them anymore. 

Sam thinks he’s in Louisiana because he stepped out of the truck and into a wet kind of heat. There’s a church with thick greenery growing over the roof and white wood that’s been mold-blackened by the humidity. He laughs to the darkness because it's very funny to him that he’s driven himself subconsciously to a place of grace. 

He skips up the steps, two at a time, gleefully. The smell of the bayou and rotting wood has put him in a good mood. The lock snaps when he blinks, the chain unraveling and snaking into a coil at his feet. The doors open for him and maybe he did that with his mind too, or maybe they were just expecting him. 

The church has been used recently, its interior better kept than the outside, bibles tucked neatly in the backs of pews, ribbons tied into plaits. The white of the moon falls in blankets through the windows, shadows of leaves moving over the floor like rippling water and the bust of Mother Mary prays for him at the altar. 

Sam spreads his arms and addresses her, says to the room at large, “Shall I repent for my sins, oh Lord?” and it echoes, gives him goosebumps, a current under his skin. He has an audience here because God is omnipresent, this is a place of worship and Sam has always been good at that. 

A church in Louisiana, standing before a plaster of his mother’s namesake in a church for a God he used to think could have some defying factor in a destiny that was always going to be concrete. It’s funny, blatantly. Sam puts his hands gently to Mary’s cold face, kisses her on her lips before crushing her head, spraying ceramic. 

Sam stands behind the lectern, hands red with his own blood now, sticking the pages of the Good Book. He’s read it before anyway. 

“Am I to be forgiven?” 

Last is a casefic I had planned out in 2019. I didn’t get very far into the actual writing part of it, but I still think the setting is cool, less so the plot I had in mind. 

Just outside of Bridgeport, Connecticut there’s a community built on a sandbar. A small secluded semi-island, connected to the mainland by a mile-long beachfront. A town of forty to fifty now abandoned, vandalised residences.

The police find the bodies of the boys there, bleeding out and into the sand, each other’s skin caught under their fingernails. 

Sam watches as his brother pulls the sheet back from one of the corpses, laying blue on the steel morgue tray. He’s a kid, a boy, not even eighteen. Hairless, lanky, multiple stab wounds puckered around his belly and Sam thinks he does not look peaceful for someone who is meant to be at rest. 

Dean is quieter than usual, his body language stiff. They’ve seen their fair share of dead kids but Sam thinks that this one might look a little too much like an adolescent version of himself. Shaggy brown hair, too long limbs, college on the horizon. Sam blankets the sheet back over the boy’s face and hears his brother exhale in what he thinks might be relief.

The coroner tells them that the other two are the same, besides the youngest one. He’d been blinded, thumbs pushed through his eyes until they popped like grapes. He asks if they want to see him too and Sam says no, thank you, we’ve got what we need.

Which is a whole lot of nothing, but they’ve only just arrived and there’s evidence that doesn’t involve corpses that needs to be checked.

“Pussied out in there huh, Sammy?” Dean says as they’re walking down the funeral home’s front steps, past the manicured roses and trimmed lawn. You see these perfect hedges? We’ll treat your dead mother with the same detailed care!

Sam pulls at his tie and scoffs because he knows he wasn’t the only one uncomfortable standing in the morgue; cases that involve kids always rub them both wrong.

[elwenyere]

Call My Bluff

(Stony ficlet inspired by the prompt from @wired-heartbeats​, “Why are we the only two people relatively good at strip poker here damn it guess I gotta lose on purpose to get this rollin huh”)

“All right, chumps,” Clint said, flicking cards expertly across the table from his perch on the kitchen counter, “the little blind is a sock, and the big blind is an item of outerwear of your choice.”

Of course, since Clint hadn’t suggested they play strip poker until the team had already made a substantial dent in Bruce’s latest batch of home-brew IPAs, some of them didn’t have many choices left at this point. Bruce had managed to hold onto both socks but was otherwise down to just his boxers, a white tee shirt, and a watch. Natasha had discarded a jacket, a headband, and a boot. And Thor and Clint were both surrounded by piles of clothing, though Tony suspected they were actually stripping at a faster rate than they were losing.

Steve, on the other hand, had yet to shed a single item.

It was infuriating, really, because Tony had spent all day reviewing the World’s Most Soul-Deadening Slide Presentations ahead of the Board meeting tomorrow – a meeting for which he’d also promised Pepper that he would stay sober – and so the very least he deserved for so much good behavior was for the supersolider with whom he’d been hopelessly infatuated for the last two years to show a little skin, for Christ’s sake. Instead, the only consolation available was that Tony was playing about as well as Steve, having sacrificed only his tie and a pair of cufflinks to win a button-down shirt from Bruce on the previous hand.

Tony folded early this time around, partially because Clint was squinting one eye in a way that meant he was going to bet big and partially because Tony wanted to watch Steve’s face as he checked the bet. Tony had learned more and more of Steve’s tells over the years: the furrow between his brows that meant he was worried, the crossed arms that meant he was remembering something he couldn’t talk about. The data set grew regularly these days, filling out with the little signs that let Tony predict how Steve was going to move and what he was going to need. But still, for the life of him, Tony could not read whatever it was that flashed across Steve’s face in moments like this one, when he glanced up at Tony as he thumbed the edge of his cards. The expression came and went, leaving a sensation like a hot coal in the center of Tony’s chest.

“It’s my deal,” Steve said finally, and Tony snapped out of his reverie in time to notice that Thor had won the last hand, and Clint was now heading to the pantry to grab potato chips wearing nothing but a pair of purple boxer-briefs.

Natasha, meanwhile, was taking much longer than seemed strictly necessary to relieve herself of a pullover sweater, and Tony suddenly froze in the act of picking up his cards: because how had Natasha given up a sweater? Tony had lost every bet he’d made with her since the days when Natalie Rushman was clearing his schedule for lunch at Carbone, and she had just abandoned her second-largest item of clothing to a pocket-nines bluff from Thor, God of Incurable Credulity? Not fucking likely.

Tony narrowed his eyes as he watched her twirl the discarded sweater in a few graceful circles with her wrist. Noticing his glare, she gave him the tiniest of smirks, her head inclining across the table. Tony followed its direction and saw that Bruce was staring openly, mouth hanging slightly ajar, cards lying untouched on the table.

Well that was an interesting development.

Tony felt a slow grin spreading across his face, and he looked instinctively back toward Steve to see if he had noticed Natasha’s adaptation to the game as well. But when he met Steve’s gaze, the grin stuck, only halfway formed. Because Steve was staring directly at him and wearing an expression that (as Tony had learned through painful experience) roughly translated to: “wearing a parachute would only slow me down.”

Steve dealt the river card without even glancing at it.

“I’d like to raise the bet,” he said. “Nothing shy of two yards of fabric.”

“A rousing challenge!” Thor yelled, slapping his cards down on the table. “I would hate to give way under any less brave an assault.”

“I’m out,” Natasha smiled. “I don’t think I have the kind of action this round calls for.”

Tony twirled his cards between his thumb and index finger, doing his best to pass off the sudden firing of his nerves as indecision over his hand. Steve had leaned back in his chair, but his eyes hadn’t left Tony’s, and whatever look Tony had caught a glimpse of earlier was fixed in place now, making Tony feel vaguely like the arc reactor was overheating.

“I’ll call,” Tony said, drumming his fingertips on the table. Steve finally broke eye contact to look down at the movement, and Tony watched in disbelief as his jaw somehow set even further: like concrete getting pressed into granite.

“I’m uhh – I’m out I think? Yeah, I’m going to fold,” Bruce said.

“Probably the right choice, Banner,” Clint nodded sagely, now back from the kitchen and tossing barbecue chips to himself in the air.

“Okay boys, show us the goods,” Natasha demanded.

“Full house,” Tony announced, laying down a king and a queen.

“Well, you’ve got me there, Tony,” Steve replied. Slowly and deliberately, he turned over his cards to reveal a king and a ten.

A pair of kings? But that was a garbage hand. That meant that Steve –

Steve was reaching down and peeling off his undershirt and sweater in one smooth motion.

“Bad luck, I guess,” he said. And then he gave a shrug that sent an absolutely criminal ripple of movement across his bare chest.

Oh. Oh: that smug, chiseled bastard.

“Deal the cards, Nat,” Tony said, taking care to wet the tips of his fingers with his tongue before he plucked his off the table.

One hand later, Tony was slipping the waist of his pants slowly over his hips. Two hands later, Steve was using more muscles to remove a pair of socks than Tony had known the human body to contain. When Tony retaliated by rolling up his sleeves before peeling off his own socks, Steve ripped his belt off with a speed that made Tony feel like the armor had taken a blow to the head. By the time Tony shimmied his way out of his dress shirt, Bruce had to pretend to bump into the table before Tony remembered there were other people in the room.

“I’m going to head to bed,” Steve said abruptly, tearing his eyes away from Tony’s forearms as he stood up. “Gotta know when your luck has turned.”

“Oh someone’s getting lucky, for sure,” Clint smirked, and then he ducked — almost in time to avoid a projectile potato chip from Natasha.

“Yeah, so I’m just going to…go be over there now,” Tony said, in what he felt was an impressive display of self-possession for someone staring at the retreating ass of Steve Rogers.

“Don’t say I never did anything nice for you, Tony,” Natasha called after him as he scurried out of the room.

He barely made it around the corner and into the hallway before he was being swung around and held against the wall, one of Steve’s hands planted firmly against his chest.

“Took you long enough to get out of that shirt,” Steve growled.

“I could have gotten to the shirt faster if someone weren’t an unrepentant cheater who was dealing from the bottom of the deck – again,” Tony shot back, gripping the loops of Steve’s jeans and pulling their hips together.

“I must have misread your signals then, because I was pretty sure you were interested in what I might do from the bottom,” Steve whispered, his lips teasingly close.

“God, Rogers,” Tony groaned, “how can you be so corny and so hot at the same time? It drives me completely nuts.”

“It does?” Steve asked, the pressure against Tony’s chest lightening as Steve pulled back to search Tony’s face.

“No, Steve,” Tony said patiently, “I just wriggled my hips in front of Clint Fucking Barton because you fill me with incredibly casual, ordinary thoughts. Of course you drive me nuts, you idiot. I’ve been crazy about you for years.”

And that was probably more of a revelation than a race to lose at strip poker merited, but Tony couldn’t regret it, because a totally new expression had bloomed over Steve’s face. As Steve leaned down and pressed their foreheads together, one finger tracing the line of Tony’s jaw, Tony tried to memorize it. Tell: the smile that meant Steve Rogers was happy.

[kiwi-bitchez]

hey love can you maybe do a shower smut one shot? don't feel pressured like if u don’t wanna do it it’s fine!

Water Pressure

Reader x Peter Parker

Reader and Peter are both college-aged. College!Neighbor!AU I guess?

Word count: 4.5k

Warnings: Smut, shower sex, oral sex, face sitting, dick sucking, soap getting in your eyes, unreliable landlords

New York City in the summer was a great place to be. The stress of school was lifted off your shoulders, and you were lucky enough to be interning at your dream job. You were grateful for the opportunity to stay in the city after the semester ended, not having to move back home to your small town. However, there was one thing about summer in the city that was unbearable: the heat.

It was like a wet blanket that hit you every time you stepped out of your apartment, not that the tiny window box unit you had made much of a difference indoors. It was oppressive and heavy and difficult. You managed to survive with ice packs and cold showers. That was… until this afternoon.

You hike up the seven flights of stairs to your tiny apartment. The building was under serious renovations and didn’t have a working elevator, flickering lights, strange noises in the night. But it was seriously cheap rent compared to the other buildings in the area, so you were willing to make the sacrifices. Not many people lived on your floor, most of the rooms had been occupied by college students whose leases ended at the end of the school year.

You press your sweaty forehead against the chipped paint of the door as you fumble with your keys for a moment.

“Hey y/n, you good?” your neighbor from across the hall asks as he steps out of his apartment to leave for the afternoon.

“Yeah, thanks Flash. Its just so damn hot out. I’d suggest bringing some water wherever you’re going,” you respond. You sneak a peak into his apartment for a second before the door swings shut, getting a glance of his roommate Peter who was playing video games on the couch.

You were grateful to have them as neighbors, they were nice enough, would let you borrow a cup of sugar every once in a while, and weren’t too loud like the previous people you had lived near in college. It didn’t hurt that Peter was nice to look at. He was incredibly nice, and a little dorky, which only added to his charm. It wasn’t long into the summer before you had developed a little crush on him.

You had seen him around campus before, but never really got to know him. His best friend Ned had been your calculus tutor sophomore year, so you saw him in passing but never more than a wave or a smile. Now that he was living across the hall you saw him almost every day, lucky you.

You finally make it into your shoebox apartment and drop your stuff down on the kitchen counter. It wasn’t much cooler inside as it was outside, unfortunately. You immediately shed yourself of your slightly sticky clothing, peeling the few layers off your damp skin. It had become routine to hop in the shower as soon s you get home, an attempt to bring your body temperature down a few degrees and wash the sweat from your hair.

A sigh of relief escapes you as the ice cold water hits your face. The air of the city left a certain layer of grime on you that always felt nice to wash off. You allow yourself to use a large dollop of shampoo, wanting to scrub the roots of your hair from any sweat and dirt that the city had left.

It was moments like this that you cursed your landlord, cursed the building that you lived in, and cursed whatever higher power was in charge of your utilities. Your water shuts off. You jiggle the knob, hoping the water would turn back on, but it only lets out a few sad drips.

This had happened before, and typically wasn’t too big of a problem, however you had a mound of soapy hair on the top of your head that was starting to drip down your body. You let out an exasperated groan, not knowing what to do. You hop out and stick your head in the sink, hoping to use the sink water to rinse some of the shampoo suds out of your hair.

Of course the sink wouldn’t turn on either, and now your head was upside down in your tiny bathroom sink, soapy wet hair all in your face. When you stand up, the suds drip into your eyes and mouth, making you frown and scrunch your eyes up tight.

You grab the towel from the door hook and wrap it around your dripping body. In a moment of panic, soap burning in your eyes and starting to drip onto the floor, you decide to leave your apartment. It was a last ditch effort, but you needed this shampoo out of your hair and maybe their shower was working.

“Hey Peter?” you yell as you knock a few times, your other hand holding up the wet towel, “I need some help.”

You feel a little relieved when you hear his footsteps approaching, however that relief turns to embarrassment very quickly when he opens the door and you remember your current state.

“Y/n…. um…” he is a little confused.

“Sorry, my water shut off and I have soap in my eyes and in my hair and all over the floor,” you start to ramble, not really able to see him through your scrunched up soapy face, “is your water working? Can I use it for just a second.”

He starts laughing, which makes you feel a little bit better, you let out a laugh too. “Sure thing, I think it’s working.”

He runs over to the kitchen and turns on the sink, “Seems to be working fine, feel free to use the shower.”

“I…um…” you stand blindly in the frame of his doorway, dripping water and your hair a soapy mess in your face.

“Here, let me help you,” he laughs again. He takes your arm and guides you into their bathroom, his apartment the same model as yours just mirrored. “I have to leave, but feel free to take your time and let yourself out when you’re done.”

“Thank you so much, you’re a life saver,” you hear the door close behind you and you step into the shower, fumbling with the knob for a second before the water shoots out. You feel your heart rate slow as the soap is finally washed from your face.

You had only started to run your fingers through your tangled hair when you hear the bathroom door open again. Your eyebrows furrow as you start to peek your head out of the curtain. You see a figure for a second, floppy brown hair that could only be Peters. His hand quickly moves to the curtain, closing it in front of your face.

“Peter, what the fuck,” you start to ask.

“Shhh,” he shushes you and keeps the shower curtain closed tightly with his arm.

“Peter, what-” you begin to ask again before hearing Flash’s loud voice from the hallway.

“Hey dude, you in the shower?” He asks Peter.

“Umm, yeah, what’s up?” His voice is tense. You’re incredibly confused and just stand there in the shower enjoying the cold water.

“Just forgot my wallet. You mind if I take a piss?”

“Uhh,” before Peter can respond the doorknob starts to wiggle. You wonder why he doesn’t just tell Flash that you’re using the shower, but the situation is hard to gauge from inside.

“Fuck-” Peter mutters as he swiftly hops into the shower with you.

You turn to face him, about to throw your hands up, but it all happens too quickly. Before you can even ask what the fuck is going on his hand comes up to cover your mouth. Your eyes almost pop out of your head and your knees almost buckle when you finally see Peter.

Standing in the shower in front of you from the neck up was your neighbor Peter, the science whiz, nerdy, cute, t-shirt wearing, floppy haired Peter you had come to know. From the neck down…was Spider-man. Tight red and black suit that hugged his body, hand covering your mouth was gloved in a strange material that felt cold against your skin.

His face was incredibly panicked, his eyes almost as wide as yours. His other hand frantically came up to his face, signaling you to be quiet with a finger to his lips. Not that you had a choice, his large suited hand was tightly covering the lower half of your face.

You didn’t even have the time or focus to be embarrassed about being naked in front of him. You were overwhelmed with confusion and were too concentrated on the superhero in front of you to bother covering yourself up.

He throws his head back in annoyance as you can hear Flash peeing a few feet away, humming all the while.

“Alright man, have a good day,” he yells as he exits the bathroom.

“Yeah, you too,” Peter tries to keep his voice cool but you can hear an underlying shakiness.

As soon as the door slams shut he removes his hands from your mouth, but is still frantically gesturing for you to stay quiet. A few seconds pass and you hear the front door shut, he lets out a sigh of relief, but you can’t say the same for yourself.

His eyes grow wide again, realizing that he’s in the shower with you, and you’re naked. He scrunches his eyes shut and quickly turns around.

“Sorrysorrysorry,” he runs his hands through his hair, a little damp now from the condensation of the shower.

Before he can continue you grab his arm and turn him around, “What the fuck Peter,” you were still absolutely stunned, “what…”

“I’m sososo sorry I didn’t mean to be a creep or anything, I didn’t know he was gonna come into the bathroom and I had to hide…” you could tell he was just as nervous as you.

“I…what…” your brain still could not form words, “you’re… you’re…”

“Spiderman, yeah, and I really need you to not tell anyone please,” his eyes were wide with worry. At a split second you had thought this was a joke, or maybe he just dresses up in his free time or something, but no. The way his hand felt on your mouth and the terror in his eyes told you this was real, too real.

You give him a nod, “of course, of course.”

“It’s my biggest secret, and I can’t afford for Flash to find out because, well, I don’t think he’s kept anything to himself his entire life.”

You laugh a little, but your body still feels rigid and your mind is still swarming with questions. “But I think I can trust you,” he says, somewhere in between a question and a statement.

“Yes, you can trust me,” you could see ease creep onto his face, the wide-eyed, fearful look was slowly melting away. “Ned knows?” Out of all the questions you had, why was this the one you asked? It just slipped out.

“Yeah, Ned knows,” It was weird that you two were still in the shower, but you were both still too shaken up to realize or care.

“And…” you start.

“And that’s it. You and Ned.”

A deep pit begins to form in your stomach, “You aren’t gonna kill me or something, are you? Cuz I promise I won’t tell anyone; I swear.”

“Nonono,” he panics, “No, I’m one of the good guys, I don’t kill people. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Sorry, I- I don’t know why I said that,” you felt bad for implying anything, you were just nervous that your newfound knowledge of Peter would change things.

“It’s okay that you’re freaked out, I’m- I’m sorry for putting you in this position.”

Without really thinking you turn around and face the water. You needed to feel something other than confusion, embarrassment, shock, and fear. You spin back around after a moment, Peter still standing there in the same state of shock and confusion as you.

“So you’re Spiderman,” you say with assurance, “wow.”

“I’m sorry, I’ll get out, I’m sorry if I’m being super weird.”

No part of you blamed him for his actions, you knew he wasn’t making up excuses to hop into a cold shower with you. And you didn’t blame him for lingering. He was just answering your questions, explaining himself. That was reasonable.

“No,” you weren’t sure what to say to get him to stay, “step into the water, it will make you feel better, I promise.”

He stared at you with a blank expression for a second, not knowing how to take your suggestion. He was also concentrating immensely on concealing the erection that was prominently poking against the material of his suit. He wanted to remove himself before you noticed before you could realize that he had been looking at you.

You had noticed. For a split second, while admiring how nice he looked in the skin tight suit your eyes wandered south and caught a glimpse of his hard on under the suit. He still looked nervous, a new kind of nervous though.

Placing your hands on his shoulders, making somewhat of a bold move, you reassure him, “It’s okay Peter, it’s just me.”

There was something lingering in the space between you. The fact that neither one of you had rushed to escape the shower at the first possible second was one thing. You hadn’t tried to cover yourself up. You looked him in the eye when speaking to him with an air of sincerity and understanding.

“How does it come off?” you ask, genuinely curious as it seemed to be air-tight against his body.

His hand slowly comes up to the center of his chest, pressing down on the spider logo. The material seems to evaporate off him, expanding and stretching until it pooled at his feet.

The wide look in your eyes had turned to something else entirely, they boy you had been stealing glances of for the past few months was naked and in the shower with you. Albeit, the circumstances that got you here were not ideal.

You take his hands and move them up to your face, encouraging his strong hands to cup your cheeks on either side. The way he was looking at you made something inside you stir. You tried to close some of the empty space between you, as he tentatively pulled your face to his.

The kiss was soft and gentile, your lips hovered over his for a moment before connecting. Your arms wrapped around his neck, a hand moving up to his damp curls. He pulls away slowly, eyes remaining closed for a moment after your lips had parted.

“This…” he whispers, “this isn’t just because you think I’m gonna kill you or something.”

“No,” you laugh, “I wanted to do that before I knew your secret identity. I’ve wanted to do that for a while.”

“Me too,” he mumbles into your lips as he moves to kiss you again, this one was harder and more sure. His hands run up and down your body, wrapping around your waist and snaking up to your chest.

You couldn’t help but let out a whimper as his tongue met yours. Your hands were resting on his chest, toned and perfect.

“You’re really warm,” you comment with some concern, as his skin was burning underneath your touch.

“It’s a…spider sense thing,” he wasn’t quite sure how to go about explaining his abilities to you.

“Here, step into the cold water,” you had forgotten where you were for a second. You felt bad about his water bill, you had been in here for quite a while, and hopefully would be here for a while more.

You clenched your thighs together as you watched him step under the water and run his hands through his now wet hair. It was like a scene out of a movie, the way his muscles rippled with each movement, the way his lips remained slightly parted as the water washed over his face.

His arms wrapped around your waist to pull you under the stream of water with him. The sensation of his face pressed to yours, lips interlocking as the water rolled down your face was unreal. You shift your body towards his, pressing your chest flat to his. You could feel his hard cock pressing against your stomach, making your thighs clench again.

“Will you touch me?” you whimper into his mouth, sounding desperate and weak. You move your hand over his, showing him where you wanted him most.

“Fuck,” he groans as his fingertips make contact with your wet folds. His hands are much bigger and stronger than yours, the sensation causes your eyes to flutter shut.

You move your hands down to his already hard cock, rubbing it up and down, somehow making it harder. Your mouth falls agape as he slips a digit into you, cool water still running over your body.

He takes your lower lip in between his, sucking on it in the process. He slowly pushes you back so your body meets the tile shower wall. One hand working between your legs and the other palming at your chest has you seeing stars. Your head rolls back, giving him access to suck and nip at your neck.

Fuck, why had you not done this sooner? He had been right across the hall all summer and only now were you finally experiencing what you had been daydreaming about.

“Peter,” you moan out, continuing to stroke his erection, “I need you.”

He mumbles into your neck, now littered with red splotches. He curls his fingers up into you, making your legs buckle a little, “Fuck,” you gasp out, “please.”

“Peter I need you to fuck me,” you can feel him smile into your skin, “but I’m worried about running u your water bill.”

“You don’t want me to take you right here?” he pushes against you so your back is flat up against the wall. All you can do is moan in response, his fingers still making work inside you.

Slowly detaching his lips from your chest and removing his fingers from you, he moves back into the water to turn the shower off. While he faces away, you slowly drop down to your knees, thighs spread apart and tongue laying flat out of your mouth.

You look up at him with big blinking eyes as he turns around to face you.

“Holy shit,” he hovers above you, “You’re gonna kill me, you know that, right?”

“Can I?” you ask as your head moves towards his cock. He nods and gives you permission before you lick a long stripe up the underside. His eyes closed and his head falls back as you take his tip into your mouth, rolling your tongue around his sensitive head.

“You’re sure this isn’t just because I’m Spiderman?” he manages to ask in between deep breaths.

“Peter,” you pause your sucking and continue to stroke him, “I’ve thought about having your cock in my mouth every day this summer. Every time we rode the elevator together, or passed each other in the hallway, I’ve wanted you.”

You go back to taking his length into your mouth, bobbing your head up and down, loving the noises he makes as you take him deeper.

“Do you want to go to my room?” He asks, “the bathtub floor can’t be comfortable to kneel on.”

You stand up and place a gentle kiss on his mouth, “That’s very thoughtful,” you kiss him again between thoughts, “I would love to.”

He takes you by surprise as his arms quickly lift you up, wrapping your legs around his firm torso. He carries you with ease to his small bedroom, tossing you back onto his messy comforters.

Climbing back on top of you, peppering your body with kisses as he makes his way up to your face, your lips finally meet with Peter’s again. You bite down a little onto his lower lip as his hand tangles its way into your wet hair, the other resuming its place between your legs.

You let out a low moan, only to be cut off by him whispering in your ear, “Will you sit on my face?” You pull back, a little stunned at his question, mouth parted at the way his fingers continued to twist inside you.

“All those times we were in the elevator or the hallway, and you were thinking about my cock in your mouth, I was thinking about you sitting that pretty pussy of yours on my face, riding my tongue.”

That sent a shiver down your spine that pulsed in your already soaking wet cunt. “Holy fuck” you could not even begin to explain how turned on you are. Peter easily flips you over so that you are now straddling him, his lips moving to suck down on one of your hard nipples.

You grind your crotch down onto him, missing the friction of his hand.

“Come here,” he lays flat down and guides your thighs up to either side of his head. Your mind was spinning with lust, completely fucked out and unable to concentrate as he uses his strong hands to lower you down onto his face.

His hands wrapped comfortable around your waist, fingertips diffing perfectly into your soft skin. A deep moan escapes you as he starts to lap up and down your slit. His tongue moves easily across you, lapping up and down, around your clit, into your hole, all of it. Your eyes were permanently rolled into the back of your head.

His grip on your waist started to guide your hips back and forth, rolling your core across his eager tongue. Every time your hips buckled forward and your clit made contact with his tongue waves of pleasure shot up your body. You couldn’t help but lean forward, using his headboard as support as he completely owned you with just his tongue.

“Peter,” his name comes out as a strangled moan, “I’m gonna come soon, fuck.”

He hums into you, adding vibrations to the slick wetness. “I want to come on your cock, fuck. Please, Peter, I need you to fuck me.”

Although you couldn’t get enough of his tongue, the way he was taking control over you, you were dying to feel him inside of you. You wanted to feel your walls clench around him as you came.

He laps a few more times at your sensitive clit, almost pushing you over the edge. He can tell you’re close by the way your thighs shook around his head, pressing against his ears. He starts to move, replacing his tongue with his fingers against your clit. He gracefully changes position, coming up behind you so you didn’t have to move at all.

You were already at the perfect angle, arms pressed up against the headboard and hips arched back for him. He continues to rub tight circles against you as he starts to run his tip up and down your soaking slit.

“You’re sure,” he knows you’ve already said yes, but he just wanted to make sure.

“Fuck, yes Peter please, please fuck me,” your words came out somewhere between a whine and a moan.

He pushes his tip into you slowly, and you rock back onto his cock, letting him slip deep into you. His mouth drops open for a second at the sensation of fucking you mixed with the way you looked with your head thrown back and ass bouncing against him.

“Peter, I’m gonna come please don’t stop.”

He picks up his pace, fucking into you faster while his fingers continued to rub your clit. He had only been inside you for a few moments, and he could already feel your tight walls gripping around his length, your orgasm washing over you and dripping all over his cock.

You fall forward a little, letting out gravely moans of his name and profane language. He fucks you through your orgasm, not letting up as you start to come down. He can start to feel your legs shake, so he removes his hand from your clit and takes a firm grip on either side of your ass. He kneads your flesh as he continues to bury his dick into you.

You were almost flat down on your stomach, hips still angled up for him, face buried into the pillows to muffle your loud moaning screams. He wanted to see your face as you cried out his name, so he pulls out and gently rolls you over, kissing up your thighs to give you a second to readjust.

He thought you looked incredibly beautiful, with your hair sprawled out around your head, your lips puffy and eyes fluttered shut.

He takes your chin between his thumb and his hand to angle your face up to his, kissing you passionately and deeply as he slipped back into you. You moan into the kiss, hands coming up to his hair.

He held one of your thighs back with his hand, giving him perfect access. Through fucking you he never stopped kissing you, only coming up to gasp for air when he felt you clench around him in pleasure. His thumb rubbed across your cheek, hand tucked perfectly under your jaw.

He loved the way you would whisper his name in between kisses, rolling your hips up into his.

He knew he wouldn’t last much longer, the way his dick swelled inside you as you sucked a mark onto his neck was a dead giveaway.

“You’re gonna make me cum, fuck,” he whispers to you, only encouraging you to grind your hips up more and kiss him harder.

He jolts back up onto his knees, pulling his dick out and rubbing the tip across your lower stomach as his come shoots out. You lift your hips up, collecting his come all on your stomach and dripping some down onto your inner thighs.

You can’t help but gawk at him as you watch him come undone, the way his brow furrowed and lips parted, the veins in his arm bulging as he stroked his cock.

He takes his length in his hand and rubs his red tip up and down your thighs, rubbing his come into your skin, spreading it around from your stomach to your legs. He slips back into you, slowly thrusting a few times before pulling back out.

“Holy shit,” you sigh as he lays down next to you, “that was…fucking hot.”

“You’re fucking hot,” he laughs.

He buries his head into your shoulder, leaving soft kisses across your skin.

“Um, can you get me a towel,” you laugh, gesturing to all the fluid on your lower half.

“Hmmm, no I don’t think so,” he jokes, “I think I want you right here, just like this for a while.”

“You certainly earned it,” you joke back before he hops up, grabbing a warm wet towel to wash you off with.

“Damn, well now I hope my water never comes back on,” you quip as he flops back down next to you.

“You are welcome to come use mine any time, even if yours is working fine.”

“You mean it?”

“Of course.”

[snowdice]

When There Is Something Left (Part 13-Final of the Series “Is There Anything Left of Patton?”)

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Logan/Patton, Virgil & Patton, Logan & Virgil, Roman & Patton

Characters:

Appear: Patton, Logan, Virgil, Roman, Remy

Summary: A garden blooms the next spring.

Notes: Zombie Apocalypse AU, Patton is a zombie, happy ending

This is the last part of this story, but likely not the last part of this universe. Stay tuned for Bonus Features coming out sometime soon. As well as a few extra scenes.

This is the twelfth part of a series of one-shots called Is There Anything Left of Patton?

Previous parts:

“Something Left”

“Someone You’ll Never Meet”

“Food You’ll Never Eat”

“Things You’ll Never Do”

“There Are Things That Are Lost”

“There Are Things That Are Missing”

“And There is a Question”

“Is There Anything Left of Patton?”

“And There is an Answer”

“But What Does It Mean”

“One More Dance”

“One More Chance”

My Master Post

Virgil walked into the kitchen one day in mid-April and paused at the door. Patton was the only on in the room. He was standing at the stove cooking, and it wasn’t macaroni and cheese.

“Hey Pat,” Virgil greeted softly after a moment. Patton hummed in response, and Virgil walked to the counter to pour himself a cup of already prepared coffee. His eyes looked over at what Patton was doing; he’d cracked some eggs into a bowl and was whisking them with an actual whisk. As far a Virgil knew, that thing hadn’t been touched since Patton turned as both Logan and Virgil were too lazy to go through the effort of finding, using and cleaning it. (Roman and Remy were even less likely unless Roman had used it as a microphone to sing Disney songs.) He seemed to be doing fine with it, so Virgil turned to leave him be and sit at the table. It was already set, he noticed and there was a pitcher of what looked like orange juice sitting in the center.

He froze halfway there when a voice called out to him. “Virgil?” Patton asked. Virgil knew Patton could speak for real now. Logan had told him that Patton would speak regularly, but he’d only done it when he and Logan were alone. Other than the one “yes” a year ago that had confirmed Patton still actually existed in there, that was the first thing Virgil had ever heard him say.

Virgil had a feeling he shouldn’t make a big deal about that fact. “Yeah Pat?” he asked instead.

“I’m making omelets, but I don’t trust myself with the deer sausage in the refrigerator. Would you mind doing that part for me?”

“Oh, yeah,” Virgil replied. “Of course.” He grabbed the Tupperware container of cooked deer sausage while Patton poured some of the egg mixture into the pre-heated pan. He waited for the eggs to cook a bit before reaching for the cheese and sprinkling a bit over the top.

Then, he took a step away from the pan. “Now,” Patton said.

Virgil opened the Tupperware container of meat. Patton did a full-bodied twitch and pressed his lips into a line, but he didn’t reach for the food. After a moment, he nodded tightly, and Virgil put a bit of the meat on the omelet before shutting the container tight again. Patton was stiff when he moved forward to close the omelet but relaxed marginally when the meat was concealed. He let it cook for a few more minutes and flipped it before putting it on a plate and covering it with another one to keep it warm. He smiled at Virgil and Virgil smiled back.

They repeated the process a few times. Patton’s reaction to the meat was the same every time, but he seemed to be able to handle it. When Virgil wasn’t busy spooning the meat on for Patton, he started making toast.

Logan entered the room when Patton was folding the last omelet and stopped in the doorway. “Good morning,” he said softly.

“Morning, L.”

“Virgil and I made omelets,” Patton said.

Logan promptly forgot Virgil was in the room when he heard Patton’s voice speaking at that volume. He smiled, looking sickeningly bestowed and crossed the room. He hugged him around the waist, leaning his head on Patton’s shoulder. “I can see that,” he replied.

Patton smiled at the touch and bopped him on the nose with the spatula in his hand. “Distraction,” he accused.

“Hmm,” Logan replied into his neck, getting a giggle in return.

“Disgusting,” Virgil commented. “I’m going to go get the others.”

He left them there and made his way to the study, shoving his way into the room past the mattresses that took up most of the space. Remy was already awake on his bed sewing something. Apparently, he’d been in the kitchen already, because he had a cup of coffee next to him. Roman, on the other hand, was still sound asleep in bed. Virgil walked over and kicked him lightly on the foot.

“Wake up,” he said. Roman mumbled something into his pillow. Virgil kicked him harder. “Wake up. Patton cooked us breakfast and you’re going to eat it.”

“I done wan da macaroni,” Roman complained into his pillow.

“It’s not mac and cheese,” Virgil said.

Roman tilted his head to squint up at him.

“Just come and see,” he said.

Roman rolled out of bed after a moment and got to his feet. He stretched while Remy set down the fabric in his hand and then they both followed Virgil to the kitchen.

“Ooo, omelets!” Roman exclaimed, taking a seat in his chair. Apparently, Logan and Patton had managed to resist being mushy for long enough to bring the omelets and toast to the table and set them out for everyone.

Roman started stuffing his face without hesitation, and Virgil rolled his eyes, taking his own seat at the table.

“This is really good!” Roman said, his mouth still full of food.

“Thank you,” Patton replied as he moved to sit down himself.

Roman blinked over at him, his mouth popping open in surprise. Remy reached over to close his mouth for him.

“Good day, Patty?” Remy asked.

Patton nodded, staring intently at his omelet. He reached for his knife and fork and took a bite of his omelet. The tension was clear in his frame.

“You can just eat it Pat,” Virgil said kindly. “No one will judge you.”

Patton mumbled something under his breath and took another pointed bite. Virgil wondered how much effort it took him to not eat food when it was right there in front of him. It looked hard, but he did manage for today at least.

Virgil thought it probably helped that Roman distracted him by blabbering on about the chickens and giving an update on his progress learning the songs in the guitar song book Remy had found.

Patton didn’t say a word through the entire meal, but once all the food was gone, he looked up. “I want to see the garden,” he said to Virgil.

Virgil’s eyes flickered to Logan. They had agreed months ago that it wasn’t a good idea to let Patton go outside in case he got confused, but… things had changed. Slowly, but surely, he had more and more good days and today was a very good day.

“Sure, Pat,” Virgil replied. “That’s fine.

“The three of us will clean up breakfast since you two cooked,” Logan offered. He leaned forward to kiss Patton on the cheek. His eyes flickered between Patton and Virgil. “We’ll be working at the other house if you need me.”

“Okay,” Patton agreed, squeezing his hand before getting to his feet.

Virgil got to his feet as well and offered a hand to Patton. He took it and let Virgil lead him to the back door.

They both stopped when they stepped outside and Patton took a breath, looking out at the garden. “It…” he said softly. He walked down the steps and to the edge of the large garden. Virgil wasn’t done planting everything yet, but many things were planted and the areas that weren’t had been sectioned off and labeled with little signs. “It looks the same,” Patton said. “You even kept my signs.”

“Of course,” Virgil said. “You knew what you were doing, and it didn’t feel right to change anything.”

Patton shook his head and smiled at him ruefully. “You didn’t even know me, Virgil.”

Virgil shrugged and looked at the garden. Things were growing well. The lettuce had been growing quickly this year, and he needed to harvest some more of the rhubarb soon. The asparagus was also starting to come up. They’d be eating well the next few months if everything went to plan. He glanced over at Patton.

“Want to help me today for a bit?” he asked. “I’m planting some potatoes and it would be nice to have someone help dig the rows.

Patton smiled at him, his eyes alight. “I’d love that,” he answered. So, Virgil went and got him one of the hats in the shed (even though he wasn’t sure if zombies got sunburnt), a pair of colorful gloves, and a trowel. Patton took them and, without hesitation, knelt down in the dirt.

Logan stepped out of the second house a few hours after breakfast, leaving Remy to continue moving the furniture in the living room space around to his heart’s content. The house was coming along and should be ready by the winter. They still had a lot to fix, but the first floor was almost livable by now and the fence Logan had erected around the home was up to his standard.

Roman was out back cooing at “The Ladies” and congratulating the things on laying “so many good eggs last week.”

…

Did… were there 5 chickens now? When had Roman found a fifth chicken?

He ignored it for now and walked over to the edge of the smaller fence looking over into the garden behind his house. Patton was there in the garden on his knees, finishing digging a long trench. Logan felt himself smile and walked over to the gate they’d put between the two yards.

“Hi!” Patton said when he caught sight of him. He peeled off his gloves and got to his feet.

“Hello dear,” Logan replied, carefully rubbing a bit of dirt off his cheek. Patton smiled back at him. The sunlight cast soft shadows on his face and his skin felt less cool to the touch than it usually did. Logan’s heart felt incredibly full as Patton leaned his face into Logan’s palm. After a moment, Logan looked around and frowned. “Where’s V-”

“Oh, hell, no!” Virgil said, coming out of the shed with a large bag. “You get the hell out of our garden”

Patton giggled as Logan glared at his friend. “It’s okay, Virgil. I know how to make sure he doesn’t ruin anything.”

Virgil gave them both a skeptical look. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll trust you Patton, but if he destroys-”

“I’m not going to destroy anything!” Logan defended himself.

“I promise, it’ll be fine,” Patton said, laying a quelling hand on Logan’s shoulder.

“Alright,” Virgil agreed. “Fine,” he lifted the bag in his hands and gave Patton a considering look. “You good with the potatoes?” Virgil asked. Patton glared at him. “What? You eat raw meat! Don’t act like I’m being unreasonable.”

“I’ll be able to manage,” Patton promised, and Virgil handed him the bag which Logan saw was filled with pre-cut seed potatoes. Patton turned to Logan. “Come on, my honey bae,” Patton said with a wink. Logan groaned even though that line filled him with nothing buy affection. “Let’s go plant some veggies.”

Logan followed him to the end of the first row and frowned. The rows were not straight or evenly spaced, he noted. Before they could even think about planting something, they needed to…

“The rows are fine, Lo,” Patton told him.

“But…”

“The row goes with the flow of the soil,” Patton said and then pointed the trowel in his hands at him like it was a weapon. “No measuring sticks.”

Logan grumbled about it but forced himself to let it go. He knelt next to Patton in the dirt and grabbed one of the dried potato pieces in the bag. Looking at it, he wasn’t sure if it was good enough. It only had one potato eye when really it should have at least two, preferably three. Not to mention how irregularly it had been cut. Had Virgil not been paying any attention? He should…

“It’s fine, Logan,” Patton said as he placed down his fifth potato piece, barely even looking at it.

“But this one isn’t good enough,” Logan pointed out.

“Logan,” Patton gasped like he’d just insulted a five-year-old child. “Don’t be mean.”

“To the potato?”

“Yes,” Patton said, already getting the next seed potato out of the bag. “Now apologize.”

“To the potato?”

Patton paused in his planting to give Logan a severe look.

Logan sighed and looked at the potato. “I’m sorry,” he said, feeling ridiculous.

“Now tell it you love it,” Patton instructed.

Logan looked up at him. “I love you,” he said.

Patton’s nose crinkled up. “To the potato, silly!”

“Ah, yes, I’m the silly one,” Logan replied before looking down at the potato. “I love you.”

“Now kiss it!”

“Patton.”

“If you kiss it, you can kiss me,” he tempted.

Logan kissed the potato and then set it in on the ground without thought. He leaned forward to kiss Patton soundly on the lips. (A quiet voice in his head reminded him that such an action was likely foolish even if it hadn’t killed him before, but he brushed it away. He wasn’t dead yet.)

“Good job,” Patton said and then moved to cover the seed potatoes with his trowel.

They had made it all the way down that row and the next two before Virgil returned. He had a container full of lettuce under his arm. “Wow,” he said. “You two are making good progress. And Logan hasn’t even dug up something he’s not supposed to yet.”

Logan blushed. “I thought they were weeds,” he grumbled.

“That’s why we have to get to know our plants,” Patton said, holding up a piece of potato to Logan’s lips. Logan distractedly kissed it before he thought about what he was doing.

Virgil almost bent over double cackling. “Is that why your face is dirty, Logan?”

Patton seemed to have no remorse for what he’d just done. Instead, he plopped the just kissed potato into the ground and started covering it up with dirt.

Virgil was still chuckling. “I’m going to take this inside and then look at harvesting some rhubarb. You two okay to finish the rest of it?”

Patton sent him a thumbs up, already getting to work on the next row.

They continued in that way with Virgil walking back and forth to the kitchen with different harvested plants every so often. Eventually, they ran out of space to plant and Patton sat back on his knees to look over the rows of potatoes he’d just planted. He was covered in dirt. There was a large smudge of it near the side of his eye and a lighter one across the bridge of his nose. His freckles, which Logan hadn’t clearly seen in years, popped out a bit in the sun. There was a small smile on his face as he looked at what he’d accomplished over the last few hours. Assuming Patton truly had been able to counteract Logan’s lack of a green thumb, the ground there should spring to life soon. Logan couldn’t wait to see his face when it did.

Virgil wandered over too look with them, placing a hand on Patton’s shoulder. “How’re you feeling Pat?”

How was he feeling? Patton thought. His hands were covered in dirt despite the gloves he’d been wearing as he worked all morning. He was in his garden which had bloomed without him the last two springs. Except it hadn’t, he thought, his eyes on the sign in front of the quickly growing lettuce. He couldn’t read it, but he knew it said, “Romain Calm.” The garden hadn’t bloomed without him completely. Virgil had managed to keep a part of Patton in it, at least a little bit. He could hear Roman and Remy chatting softly in the other yard and could feel Virgil’s hand on his shoulder. Logan’s warmth next to him sunk into his skin, and there was a weight in his pocket from a ring he’d been keeping there since he’d remembered it existed. He didn’t think it was time to bring it out. Not yet. Maybe when the potatoes they’d just planted finished growing. Logan moved to take his hand when he hesitated, and Patton smiled over at him.

How’re you feeling?

“Alive,” Patton said, and he was.

Don’t forget to check out the Bonus Features and End Credit Scenes

[what-is-your-plan-today]

Leave No One Behind Ch7: Hungry Like The Wolf Pt. 2

Co written with @icanfeelastormbrewing​

Episode Summary: Ari heads back to TA and after meeting with his estranged wife he’s left in even more of a spin dealing with his feelings towards Hannah, until something finally snaps. And this time, there’s no going back.

Episode Warnings: Bad Language words. Smut (NSFW no under18s)

Part 1 (please read first!)

Strut on a line, it's discord and rhyme, I'm on the hunt down, I'm after you. Mouth is alive with juices like wine, and I'm hungry like the wolf

*********

Reflecting on Rachel's words Ari headed to his hut. She had a point. They should be coming to terms about what they were feeling and not worrying about what other people, not even Sammy, might say or how they'd react. They were grown-ups running a mission, for fucks sake, not teenagers moping around at the school's canteen.

He shoved his trainers on and headed out as he turned his walkman on. As the music started blaring in his ears he began pounding along the dusty road at the front of the resort, pushing everything from his mind as best he could. He followed his familiar 7 mile route, rounding the cliff and getting back onto the shore until he ran back down along the sand as Message in a Bottle by The Police started playing.

Ari slowed to a stop, catching his breath and saw Hannah and Jake returning. He watched them for a second as they unload the boat and then decided to head back to get a shower but paused as he took off his headphones and turned his walkman off. The sea looked so inviting, he thought. Thus, on a sudden whim of spontaneity, he stripped off his shirt, shed his trainers and ran towards it, flinging himself and diving into the cool water.  When he emerged he shook his hair out a little and did a couple of strokes out before letting himself float a little. After 10 minutes or so of just floating aimlessly letting his mind focus on the sensations of the water beneath and the sun rays above him, he felt every muscle in his body relax. The strains of his trip completely washed away, he swam back to shore and waded out of the water.

Hannah chose that exact moment to walk past, back in her sundress after changing out of her wetsuit, and spotted Ari just as he was wading towards the sand. She stared as he ran his hand through his wet hair and was really struggling to keep her eyes from the veins and muscles in his arms and forearms as he did so. Of course, following the lines of water as they trickled down his chest to his defined abs didn’t help much either. Fortunately, if you could say that, she was snapped back from her drooling state by a group of young, female tourists who started catcalling him from where they were sat on the beach.

Hannah saw him grin as he passed the group acknowledging them “Ladies.” as he nodded and walked toward where she was stood by his clothes. The way he had spoken, in such a low, sultry voice had made her core clench slightly, and she was still trying to recover from it when Ari looked at her and smiled, and that made it even worse. She was getting more and more flustered by the minute but then she took a deep breath and suddenly thought to herself, Two can play that game, Levinson.

Ari saw her pulling her sundress over her head, leaving her in nothing but that black crochet bikini as she tossed her clothing down on top of his and sauntered past him.

“Shame you didn’t wait, Lobo…” she teased

He turned to watch her dive straight into the waves. He stood still for a moment like he had been nailed to the ground. Fuck! Cursing under his breath he headed to his hut, grabbed his shades and cigarettes and came back, flopping onto the sand by the pile of clothing. He watched as Hannah took a swim out a little further than he had gone whilst, Simon who had swum out a little way after her, clearly decided enough was enough and turned back around. He made his way out of the water, shook himself off and ran to Ari who scratched him, all the time watching Hannah behind his aviators.

A few minutes and half a cigarette later she made her way back to shore. As she got out, she pulled her hair out of it’s pony tail before shaking it out loosely. She was soaking, water dripping down her tanned body which was glistening in the now setting sun. And Ari wanted to die, more like he could have died then and there and he would have gone happily. That it was the second time he had seen her wet that day, and neither of them at his hands.

Get a grip, Levinson, with a silent groan he pulled his knees to his chest to hide his growing boner before Hannah reached the spot where he was sat. What was that about not being a fucking teenager again?

Hannah dropped next to him on the sand she reached for his cigarette. "I see you have some fans." she said, nodding to the young women who had been cat calling him as she took a drag and blew it out.

Ari forced himself to peel his eyes from the perfect line of her jaw to look over her shoulder at them realising they were looking at him and whispering. He waved and nodded at them playfully whilst he said "Not a chance, Firefly."

Hannah looked at him, trying to read the meaning of those words in his eyes, but he was hiding behind his glasses. She sighed and handed his cigarette back, his fingers brushing hers lightly and he looked at her.

"I really wanna kiss the life out of you right now, Han."

Oh, God. Not that voice again. She thought as she flushed. Taking a breath she recovered and then turned to him, flashing him a smile, that fucking smile that killed him every damned time and she looked around.

"Yeah, probably not a good idea." she said, biting her lower lip.

Ari looked around too.

"No one from the team here…I think it’s a very good idea." he countered, and Hannah could see his left eyebrow rise from behind his shades as he smiled. She looked around again to see he was right.

She hesitated for a few seconds, the beating of her heart pounding in her ears as she reached for his hand and laced her fingers through his, painfully slowly, not taking her eyes from their intertwined hand as she brushed his palm with her thumb.

Fuck! That simple but intimate gesture was sending electricity through his entire body and he swallowed hard. "You don’t wanna keep doing that, Firefly." he said, his voice low and hoarse.

She smiled "What if I do?"

Ari studied her eyes for a moment, taking her in before answering her question. "They’ll end up shutting the hotel down because of a scandal."

She laughed, the image of a shocked Ethan's face coming to her mind. But she didn't stop caressing his hand with her thumb.

"Can’t have that now, can we?" she shrugged, as she squeezed his hand faintly.

Ari turned around once more to check there was still no unwelcome audience before leaning his head on the crook of her neck. Nuzzling her skin, still fresh from the sea, with his nose before pressing a soft kiss on her neck under her ear.

He felt her stiffen, her breath caught as she closed her eyes and swallowed. Now that was sending shivers down his spine and he was having bad thoughts about her swallowing something else. His breath caught in his throat and Hannah must have sensed it too because she whispered. "Ari" as her body turned towards him, her free hand dropping on to his bare thigh, curling her gentle fingers around the curve of his muscle.

Ari immediately tensed up at her touch, hissing internally, and he turned around again, this time a little quicker than previously because he couldn’t take it anymore.

Coast is still clear.

"Firefly, look at me." he said, pulling his shades from his face.

She did as told, noticing the urgency in his voice and he immediately pressed his lips to hers in a soft peck. It was quick but he felt the longing that had been plaguing him over the last week finally wash away. He thought of all the nights he had laid down on his bed in Tel Aviv replaying that last night at the resort with her before he had left, as he rubbed his nose softly along hers before catching her mouth again, keeping it short and sweet, but loaded with feeling.

As he pressed his head to hers be became suddenly aware of a movement in his peripheral and jerked his head away, fearing someone from the team might have showed up in the few minutes he and Hannah had been lost in one another. But as he looked around he saw it was the group of female tourists who were gathering their things and shooting glances their way, none of them particularly nice it truth be told, and could see they were talking in low whispers as they stood.

Hannah followed his gaze and moved her hand off his leg.

"Probably not the smartest idea we’ve had, huh?" she said softly.

"I don’t care. You’ll always be my smartest move, Firefly." Ari stated, looking into her eyes with determination.

She was about to say something back Simon let out a little whine from where he had been led next to Hannah and stood up, shooting off behind them. They were both startled and turned to see Max approaching, already within earshot.

"We’re gonna fire the BBQ up now…just to…er..warn you." he informed them, the expression on his face unreadable.

Both looked at him innocently as he smirked. Well, that smirk could be read, couldn’t it?

"Thanks Max, I’ll just grab a clean shirt." Ari was the first to speak as he stood up and offered Hannah his hand to pull her to her feet and handed her dress to her. She pulled it on and they both walked off, not exchanging any words in the process. Ari shot her one last glance and almost as if she could sense it, she turned and looked over her shoulder at him, catching his eyes before she looked back the way she was walking, heading after Max.

A little while later Ari headed to the patio area of the resort and spotted Hannah already seated at one of the tables, a glass of what looked like lemonade in her hand which he suspected was laced with Vodka. Max was at one side of her and the seat on the other was free. Trying not to smile too much, he headed over to take it, hoping for the chance to at least sit next to her, maybe give him the opportunity to hold her hand under the table but to is utter horror Sammy appeared out of nowhere and flopped into the seat he had been eyeing up.

Bastard. So instead he took a seat opposite her, that is when he got chance to sit down as he was roped into doing the BBQ, Rachel appealing to his ego by telling the guests loudly that no one grilled a steak like Guy Thomas. After an hour or so, the meal was done and then everyone piled onto the beach after Max lit a camp fire. The beach was dark now, illuminated by the fairly lights and the camp fire, the latter of which was sending warm shadows across the sand. Ari sat down on one of the blankets, watching as Hannah got roped into some stupid dancing as Max strummed his guitar (which Ari wanted to smash over his head for effectively cock-blocking him earlier). He was fighting the urge now to get up and dance with her too, but he knew he had to keep a respectable distance, if nothing but to placate the girls from the beach who were shooting daggers at Hannah and mumbling no doubt about what they had seen the pair of them do on the beach. Eventually, however, their attention was diverted as Jake flopped into the middle of their little circle with a bottle of tequila, flirting his way around the 3 women. Hannah nudged Max and pointed to him, the pair of them snorting and shaking their heads. Hannah caught Ari’s eye and he flashed her a smile which she returned until she was dragged back into the hotel by Max, presumably for more beer.

All in all it should have been a nice first evening back with his team. This set of guests left tomorrow morning and the new ones weren’t around until the morning after so everyone was cutting loose, but he was simply dying. Seeing her so close and so carefree and not being able to simply reach out to her was killing him. When he couldn’t take it anymore he stood up and excused himself.

“I’m turning in.” he said, stretching his arms above his head. “It’s been a long day for me and I’m exhausted.”

Rachel looked at him, nodding sympathetically “Yeah, you do look whacked.” “Gee thanks.” he rolled his eyes as Max sniggered. He looked at Hannah again who simply looked him up and down before he turned away, bidding everyone goodnight and headed away to his hut further up the beach. Once inside he flopped down, his fingers linking together behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling for a moment before he closed his eyes, reliving that 5 minutes or so he’d had with Hannah alone on the beach. He was going to have to come up with something, some way to get her alone so they could talk or…well, whatever. As he lay there, for how long he had no idea, he felt his eyelids growing heavy and he was just dozing off when he heard Simon barking.

“Simon shhh.” Hannah chastised, her voice drifting through the window as she passed his hut “Quiet!”

Now he was wide awake again, and that aching feeling was back in his stomach. Fuck, he couldn’t take this anymore. He waited for a minute or so, arguing internally about how going after her was a bad idea, but that devil on his shoulder was telling him that laying where he was, stewing on everything was equally as bad an idea.

Fuck it.

Standing up he brushed his hair back out of his eyes and opened his door a fraction. He poked his head out and took a quick look around, there was no one in sight and he could hear the party faintly as it was still going on outside the main hotel area. He stepped outside, and keeping himself as close to the staff quarters as he could to try and stay in the shadows he made his way 3 down to Hannah’s.

Unsure if she would be there or at her rocks, he knocked gently and heard Simon give another bark. His breath caught in his chest as his stomach began to churn again as he stood, waiting, feeling like he was about to burst with anticipation. After what felt like an hour, but was less than 5 seconds in reality, the door finally clicked open and without so much as a word Hannah stepped back to let him in and he quickly shut the door behind him. There was a moment where he stood simply looking at her, and then that final thread of self-control snapped. To hell with everything and everyone, he was done waiting.

He wanted her, and fuck, he was going to have her.

He reached out, wrapping his hand around her upper arm and with a sharp tug which almost made her stumble he pulled her to him. He swallowed the small squeak of surprise she had made as his lips crashed onto hers and before Hannah could even think to kiss him back, he pulled away, pressing their foreheads together.

There was a slight pause between them, both trying to catch their breath from the searing kiss Ari had just delivered and he let out a soft sight. “Firefly…I missed you…

“Mi Lobo…” she whispered and her hands reached for his face, fingers threading into his beard and she pulled him back to her. Their lips found one another again, his hands moving to her waist to pull her closer and he began to tug at her clothes. He grabbed the bottom of her sun dress and he broke away from her for a second to pull it over her head before his lips crashed back to hers as they both stumbled around the room.

Ari took hold of her hips so to manoeuvre her wherever he wanted, his fingers flexing on her bare skin just above the waistband of her bikini bottoms. They continued to blindly fall around the small hut, lips furiously locked together, teeth clashing, tongues tangling in the utter ferocity of the moment until, after colliding with the small set of drawers set against one of the walls, Ari took control. Shoving her bikini bottoms down he allowed her to step out of them before he roughly picked her up. Her bare legs immediately wrapped around his waist and her arms went around his neck as he pushed her up against the wall at the far side of the hut and, using it as support he shifted his grip from under her ass and his hands moved around to the back of her neck. With surprisingly soft fingers which caused her to shiver as they grazed her skin, he pulled the strings on her bikini which allowed it to fall forwards, exposing her breasts, his hands sliding down between her shoulder blades to the, dancing along her spine before he reached the fastenings behind her back and undid the bow there too, pulling the garment away completely, tossing it somewhere to his right.

He broke the kiss to glance down at her, giving a small moan at the sight as her chest heaved with exertion and anticipation. She was every bit as fucking gorgeous as he remembered. Hannah’s hands fisted in his t-shirt and grabbed at the hem, tugging it upwards. Holding his arms above his head he allowed her to pull it off and she tossed it to the floor, her hands moving to his chest as his mouth trailed from hers along her jaw to her neck. Her head fell back against the wall as his hands pressed flat on the stone surface, either side of her face as he nipped at her skin. She gave a low moan, rolling her hips against his and he felt his cock twitch slightly drawing a hiss from his mouth.

“I missed you…” he repeated his earlier words, his mouth right by her ear, voice was low and carried a tone of desperation she couldn’t ever remember hearing from Ari before. It was enough to send a shiver down her spine.

“You were only gone a week…” She mumbled as his lip moved downwards, hot kisses branding her skin across her collar bone.

“I didn’t mean this week…” he said, his teeth grazing the hollow just beneath her throat. “I should have fought harder, stayed with you…I’m so sorry Firefly.”

Hannah’s hands fisted in his hair and she gave a sharp tug, the quick bite of pain made him growl in his throat as he looked at her, their eyes locking for a second.

“I know.” she said, her voice soft as she breathed out, swallowing slightly “And I believe you…I forgive you.”

He looked at her a second, her words echoing around lust hazed brain for a second as they hit home, the final atonement for his wrong doing all those years ago. He gave her a quick smile and then surged forward again, kissing her desperately and she openly moaned into his mouth as his hand slid between them and he trailed two of his fingers across her slit. She was wet and at the feel of her he gave a soft growl as she pulled away, her head falling back and a whimper escaping her mouth as he began to play with her, touch her, just how he remembered she liked. His head dropped to her chest as he moved his mouth to take her right nipple between his lips, softly at first before his teeth grazed her sensitive skin drawing a breathy cry from her mouth as he alternated between stinging bites and soothing licks, all the time his hand working at her clit. He moved to the other side, repeating his motion and she began to rock against his hand, seeking his touch even more. With a quick movement he pushed 2 fingers inside her and she gave a dirty purr of delight as he continued, his motions fast and aggressive. Sensing she was close by the shortening of her breath he moved his mouth from her chest so he could watch her as she came, her eyes fluttering shut, mouth slackening and her head fell forward before it tipped back and she let out a quiet squeal as he felt her tightening around her, her channel squeezing his fingers as her hands dug into his shoulders. He loved how graceful she was, even in the throes of an orgasm her noises were so dainty and soft and it drove him fucking wild.

He couldn’t help but smirk at the pout she gave as he moved his fingers out of her, readjusting her slightly before he shoved his swimshorts down, freeing his now painfully hard erection before he paused and suddenly realised...

Sensing his hesitation, Hannah finally managed to get enough about her to shake her head. Her hands cupped his cheeks and she looked at him.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’ve no…” he swallowed and she shook her head, smiling.

“It’s ok. I’m covered…and there’s been no one since Andy…” she bit her lip “And there was no one before him bar you.” Ari gulped a little at her revelation, “What? So…” She shook her head, her eyes locking onto his as Ari let her words sink in and for some reason, the thought of him being the only other man bar her husband that had taken her this way was turning him on even more. He also understood that it meant it was 4 years since she’d been with a man. Hannah watched as his eyes flashed and his entire face darkened slightly as he gave her a look, one that she had seen before a few times, that glare of a predator, eyeing up its prey.

“Oh Firefly…” he said, his voice low and deep, almost a growl and it went straight to that spot in her belly as she looked at him, eyes wide “I hope you’re fuckin’ ready.”

“Show me what you got, Lobo…” she challenged back, and her sass made him groan before he shifted, his hands moving to the back of her thighs and he opened her up to him even more as he pushed into her, slowly, revelling in the feel of her as her tight heat gripped him. Hannah’s gasp caught in her throat as she felt him fill her, a feeling she’d been missing for so fucking long, being close to someone, feeling treasured, feeling needed, feeling wanted.

One of her hands gripped his bicep, the other flew to the wall to steady herself and Ari’s hips ground against hers as he bottomed out. “Fuck…” he breathed, his face pressing into her neck as he gave them both a second to savour the moment before he snapped his hips back and this time slammed back into her, a motion he repeated over and over with such force that Hannah was sure she was about to go straight through the stone wall he was fucking her against, onto the beach outside.

Desperate to be closer to him, Hannah leaned her body forwards and the motion made him go deeper inside of her, which caused them both to groan and her head fell back, smacking against the hard wall. At that point Ari decided he wanted her in the bed, if nothing more to prevent a fucking concussion, so he moved his hands from the wall and grabbed her hips. Turning the pair of them, he carried her across the room, stepping out of his shorts which had fallen to his ankles, kicking them away as he stumbled slightly, all the time still grinding up against her, pulling her down onto him as he speared upwards and dropped them both onto the native pattered covers. One hand gripping her knee, he hooked her leg over his shoulder and Hannah grabbed his forearms as he propped himself up, looking at her as he pounded into her, his pace relentless, both of them caught up in the utter carnal desire that filled the room, the filthy sounds of skin hitting skin surrounded them as he continued his avaricious pace.

Hannah’s head was a whirl. The roughness of his pubic hair was grinding against her clit along with the fact he was bottoming out inside her, hitting her spot again and again and she was powerless to do anything but surrender as she felt her orgasm beginning to build, the familiar numbness spreading across her pelvis.

“Shit, Lobo…” her voice cracked slightly and the sound of that pet name on her lips elicited a low growl from Ari as he slammed into her even harder, fuck he loved it when she said that. “Ari, I’m…gonna…”  her voice caught and her entire body went rigid for a second before she gave a low wail as the lights exploded in front her eyes and she came again, her body trembling beneath him.

“Good girl….” Ari panted, the feel of her walls clamping down around him was utter fucking bliss and his own thrusts now became desperate as he chased his own end. He dropped her leg from his shoulder, his hips continuing to snap back and forth and with a “fuck…” he felt the white, fire in his belly and his toes curled slightly as he came with a surge that rose from the very depth of his being. As the world went quiet around him, his hips faltered, slowed and then he collapsed on top of her, panting deeply, his face buried into her neck.

Hannah’s hands moved to gently run through his hair, her nails dragging along his scalp, down his neck and back again and Ari let out a soft hum of delight, relishing her touch and her smell as he nuzzled into her further, not daring to move in case this all turned out to be some ridiculously, vivid dream. He felt her gently press a kiss to his forehead and as he gained control of his senses he turned his head to catch her lips in a soft kiss.

“You ok?” he asked her softly and she gave him a smile as he pressed his forehead to hers as their breathing began to even out. He gently pulled out of her and rolled onto his back, swallowing as he looked up at the ceiling taking in a deep breath before he moved his arm and slid it round her, as she rolled onto her side, her head resting on his chest.

“Glad to see you haven’t lost your touch.” she teased and he gave a chuckle, his hand gently carding through her hair.

“Glad to see you still appreciate it.” he quipped back and she snorted, before they both fell into silence. It was comfortable, the pair of them satiated, the tension that had been simmering for months had finally boiled over and come to ahead meaning the pair of them were stripped bare, both metaphorically and physically. The slate was wiped clean, well as clean as it was going to get. And Ari was pleased to find it didn’t feel awkward. In fact, it felt good. Normal. As if it had been merely 9 hour since he’d held her in his arms like this, not 9 years.

The fait sounds of Sammy’s guitar hit their ears again, drifting in from the party still going on the beach and Ari pressed a kiss to Hannah’s head, giving a little sigh.

“I wanted to shove that guitar up your brother’s ass earlier.” he mumbled, his eyes falling shut.

“His playing isn’t that bad.”

Ari laughed “No, I mean he sat next to you at dinner, the seat I wanted.” “We don’t always get what we want Lobo.” “Yeah, well, I was going crazy.” he said, his eyes still closed. “It wasn’t like we could have done anything at the table Ari.”

“I know but I just wanted to be near you, that too hard to believe?”

“Ok who are you and what have you done with Ari Levinson?” she snorted and Ari shook his head.

“What can I say, it’s the Hannah Navon effect.”

She didn’t reply, instead he felt her shift slightly and he was just about to ask her what was wrong when he realised with horror he’d dropped her maiden name.

“Shit, sorry Firefly,that just slipped out. I mean…”

When she still didn’t reply he looked down at her. Whilst he couldn’t see all of her face he could tell she was thinking, and suddenly he was shitting himself about the fact he’d upset her.

“Han?” he asked softly “I’m sorry, I really am.”

“It’s ok. Don’t worry…” she said gently, her hand trailing through the hair on his chest, nails lightly scratching his skin. “It’s just been a while since anyone called me that.”

“Well, it’s been a while since it’s been your name.” he replied gently, his fingers softly caressing the skin at the back of her neck.

“I was actually thinking of changing it back.” she said quietly and Ari paused for a moment, looking down at her.

“How come?”

She shifted slight so that both her arms crossed under her chin and she rest them on his chest, looking up. “Horowitz was Andy’s name. He’s dead Ari” she spoke bluntly “He has been for 4 years. I just…”

“You’re still angry at him.” Ari stated and she looked away slightly.

“That’s part of it, yeah, I won’t lie.” she turned those blue eyes back onto Ari’s and sighed “I don’t know. Not like I can do it when we are out here anyway is it?” “Maybe it’s a good time to think about it some more.” he said, picking his words carefully “You don’t want to rush anything.”

“You don’t think I should?” she held his gaze and Ari shook his head.

“I don’t think anything Firefly. Whatever you decide it makes no difference to me. Name or not, you’ll always be the Hannah Navon I loved.”

At that her eyes widened and he stilled. Shit. That had slipped out and now as he lay there looking down at her he realised he’d just brought the sum total of women he had admitted that to up to a grand total of 2…even if it had been done in the wrong order.

“What did you just say?” Hannah whispered, not sure if she had heard him correctly.

Ari swallowed, his eyes never moving from hers “I said I loved you. I should have told you back then but…”

At that Hannah cut him off by leaning up and pressing her lips to his. The hand that wasn’t round her shoulders reached up and cupped her face, his thumb gently stroking over her cheek. Thankfully, she didn’t press him to explain anymore nor did she ask him to confirm how he still felt. He wasn’t sure he was quite ready to admit that out loud, even if he was becoming more and more sure he still did.

She lay her head back down and in an attempt to divert the attention from what he had just said he moved the conversation round to his trip to TA.

“Maya loved her bag.” he said, his hand returning to her back, his fingers brushing her spine.

“’I never doubted she would.” Hannah smiled “I have good taste.”

“Well it earned you a badge of honour in her mind.” Ari smiled “She said you were cool and she liked you.”

Hannah turned her head towards his “You talked about me with her?”

“You came up in conversation when I was talking to her about Simon. She wants a photo of him by the way.”

“Kids love animals.”

“Well Munchkin is no exception.” he smiled “She asked me all about him and so I told her how you’d found him. That coupled with the fact you picked her new favourite bag, well now she likes you and doesn’t even know you. Even asked me if you were pretty.”

“What did you say, Mi Lobo?” Hannah grinned, her tone teasing.

“That I guess you were.”

“You guess?” she scoffed, slapping his chest. Ari chuckled, catching her hand and bring it to his mouth, kissing her wrist “Yeah, she didn’t buy it either.”

“Bet Sarah loved that.” Hannah snorted, as he laced his fingers with hers, bringing her arm down so it rest over his stomach.

“Yeah, she heard and wasn’t exactly pleased. We had a frank and tense conversation but I think we finally got the cards on the table.” “What cards?”

“We talked about me and her not working and being destined to fail from the very beginning- her words not mine. I told her not to dismiss what we had but it was a little liberating, us both being honest.”

Hannah stayed still, pondering what Ari had just said. Sarah, being so sure that her marriage to Ari had been destined to fail from the off. She got the feeling that Ari wasn’t telling her exactly everything that Sarah had said but from the snippets of what he had told her, she could pretty much piece together that she had been the reason Sarah had said what she had. And truth be told she felt a little guilty pang in her stomach as she couldn’t help but sympathise with the woman.

“Hey, you with me Firefly?”

Ari’s words cut across her thoughts and she took a deep breath. “Yeah, Sorry, was just thinking about what she said…” “Please don’t.” Ari said softly “We let people get in our heads last time Han.”

She shifted slightly and nodded “Yeah, I know.”

And that was it, she’d clammed up on him. Ari suddenly felt his mouth go dry. She needed space. He’d piled too much on her after an emotionally charged physical reunion and now he was cursing himself. He took a deep breath and sat up gently, jostling her from his chest as he scanned the room, searching for his shorts.

“Are you leaving?” Hannah asked him, her voice quiet and he paused looking at her.

“I thought that’s what you…” and he trailed off as to his horror her eyes were misting over. “Ari, I…”  she shook her head and he let out another sigh, groaning inwardly at himself. How was he still managing to fuck this up.

“You want me to stay?” he asked.

“Yeah.” her voice was a whisper and he laid down on his side, wrapping his arms around her as she snuggled into him, her face pressed to his chest.

“I want you to stay in my life Ari, not just my bed.” she said, her voice muffled, her breath tickling his skin but there was no mistaking the tone of worry. He felt himself choke up, she was still petrified he was going to bail on her. And he supposed, given everything, if he put himself in her shoes he couldn’t blame her. “Hey…look at me.” he said gently, tipping her head up to face him. He tucked her hair behind her ear and cupped her face softly in his hand. “I’ve no intention of letting you go this time my firefly, I promise you.”

She flashed him a watery smile as his lips met hers again softly before me moved and pushed down the already rumpled covers, the pair of them shifting under them as Ari got comfortable, Hannah moving once more to him, snaking her leg between his as her hand rest over his stomach, his once more carding through her soft hair. There was no noise now other than the faint sounds of voices, one of which was Max bidding someone a goodnight as his footsteps padded past Hannah’s window. And then nothing, bar the sound of the ocean, the waves softly lapping against the shore. They stayed still, basking in one another’s warmth and softness and then just as his eyes had started to close, Ari felt a thud at the bottom of the bed. He cracked open and eye and saw Simon had hopped up and was padding around in a small circle, before he flopped down.

“Are you supposed to be there?” he asked the dog, his voice a whisper. Simon looked at him, yawning, before he lay his head down, on his paws, yawning.

Ari chuckled and glanced down at Hannah. Her eyes were shut, her eyelashes laying flush to her still pink cheeks, her breathing soft. Pressing a kiss to the top of her head he lay back down, surrendering to tendrils of sleep pulling at him. The last thing he thought before he drifted off was the only time he had felt so happy was the day Maya was born.

[chyrstis]

A change of pace (and opinion)

Somewhat of a companion fic, but not quite, this has been in the workings for a while now (as far back as either Feb/March?) and I finally managed to figure out what direction I wanted to take it, and also gave me the chance to play around with some fun headcanons I've seen floating around too!

With a lot of time left unaccounted for during the main fic, that gave me a great chance to start tackling some missing scenes between chapters, and this is hopefully the first of at least two fics to do that. There's also more than a few ideas taking place after, but I wanted to see if I could at least finish this up first before moving forward timeline-wise.

Pairing: Sharky Boshaw x John Seed (pre-ship) Rating: T Word Count: 5K  

Link to AO3!

—

It’s a hot day down by the river, and while Sharky’s not too keen on a break when John suggests it, a bet’s a whole other story altogether.

[Set between I won’t ask for much (but just this once, I'd like you) ’s Ch. 3 and 4]

———–

It was a scorcher. One that Sharky wasn’t entirely prepared to face as he trudged over to the boathouse, lugging as much wood as he could carry under his arm.

His tank clung to his back in record time as the sun kept on shooting rays down at him, making him pull at it every now and then to get some kind of a breeze going, but the relief never lasted.

He’d hardly been spared a single cloud, which meant he was going to burn before the day was out, and removed his hat off to wipe at his forehead. The sweat would be back in minutes, falling back into his eyes as he threw another ten, twenty, thirty, who knew how many pounds of shit around, all while under the watchful eye of the asshole currently doing anything but the actual watching part.

Leaning back on the bench as he sunned himself, John reclined as he stretched into it, like the world’s pissiest cat, but worse.

He’d been there for roughly ten to fifteen minutes now, taking the position shortly after heading off in the direction of the picnic table, and Sharky didn’t think anything of it at first. Ignored it mostly, because not having John breathing down his neck was a holiday in and of itself and he was set on celebrating it, but the silence stretched on. Started turning weird as he kept on going, taking looks over his shoulder every now and then to see if John had budged even.

And no, he hadn’t moved at all.

Not even an inch as John let out a loud sigh, and reached for the bottle of water sitting next to him.

Sharky swiped at his forehead, irritated at just how blatant he was being about all of it, and swore if his next move involved pouring it over himself he was out.

John had already ruined most of his week by dragging him out here twice, but ruining Flashdance? That was just straight-up fucking wrong, and like hell was he going to be stuck thinking of him shaking that water off whenever he’d want to fire the movie up. He didn’t need that thought popping up or existing at all, and it wouldn’t be the only time it’d come to mind either.

No, it’d be stuck there in his head permanently, and seeing John, dripping wet and wearing a smug-ass grin at any point wasn’t his idea of a good time.

The water bottle went up as John took a drink, and Sharky watched his eyebrow climb up with it.

But the water went where it was intended. Right down his throat, not over his head, and John lowered the bottle back down as he leaned forward to rest his chin on his hand. Finally focusing his attention on something other than the sun hanging above their heads.

A shame it took Sharky five minutes too long to realize just what he was looking at.

Him. Standing there, wooden planks in hand all while he’d let Maniac run through his head on repeat, and John held that stare as the corners of his lips curved up.

Aw, fuck.

Fumbling everything, the wood clattered as it fell to his feet, and Sharky quickly picked it all up. The rest went right into the wheelbarrow next to him, and he hightailed it towards the boathouse.

His thoughts shifted to sorting through specs after that. Lengths and widths as he tried to stack and sort what he’d brought with him in the hopes he could hold out there as long as he could before John came sniffing around to check.

Time ticked by as the piles grew in height, but nothing happened. So, he went and re-stacked them again, making sure he’d had it right the first time.

Still, nothing.

Leaning against the wall by Billy, Sharky eyed the doorway, staring at that open space as he waited for John to step through it, but he didn’t. He’d managed to summon him like this before on accident, but this time it’d failed. Almost as if he wanted to be hands-off this time around, and that didn’t make a lick of sense at all.

His knuckles were rapping against the wood by Billy now, tap, tap, tapping along with his foot’s anxious rhythm, and the sound only grew louder as Sharky kept up with it. He even set off Billy once so he wouldn’t be able to hear his own tapping anymore, and shoved away from the wall when the tune only made it all worse.

Poking his head out of the door, he looked over towards the bench, and noticed John hadn’t moved much at all. Sitting there with his head leaned back, he looked like he was taking a nap on top of everything else. A motherfucking catnap all while Sharky was busting his ass, waiting to see how he’d fuck up without him, and like hell was he going to play right into that.

Whistling loud enough to make anyone want to clap their hands over their ears, Sharky gave it his all, and John’s head shot up instantly.

“Dude, what the fuck?”

Looking right at him as he raised his sunglasses, John’s surprise settled into an expectant smile. “Yes?”

“Seriously?” Sharky took a few steps towards him, and crossed his arms. “That’s it? Like, you’re just going to stay there the whole time?”

“I wasn’t planning to,” John started, crossing one leg over the other, “but I was thinking about just how lovely this day was, and maybe it would be nice to enjoy it for once. Just to sit back for a moment or two to take in the breeze, and how the sun feels. You appear to know what you’re doing, so I was content to leave you be. Unless you have concerns?”

“Wait, hold up.” He made a move to clear his ear out, because John didn’t just throw out what he thought he did. “You wanna repeat that, ‘cause it kinda sounded like you said I know what I’m doing.”

“Well, I thought you did.” John tilted his head to the side, aiming his stare at him long enough for Sharky to want to fidget in place. “You do, don’t you?"

Standing up straighter, he almost sneered at him. “Psh, yeah!”

“Good,” John said, relaxing. “I’ve been counting on that. But truthfully, I was thinking that I may have been harsh in my methods, and pushed you harder than necessary. You almost broke your neck the last time you were out here due to overworking yourself, so I was thinking you could join me.”

“…Join you?”

Patting the seat next to him, John nodded. “Right here. To relax and have some water even.”

Sharky’s eyes darted from the spot to John, and back again. “You’re fucking with me.”

John rolled his eyes. “Please. If I actually wanted to fuck with you, I could do so much better than this.” Leaning back, he inclined his head towards the seat. “Rest. Take five, take ten even, and understand that there’s no catch to this. Just…a friendly suggestion.”

Friendly and John didn’t even belong in the same sentence, but he’d caught a hint of that once already. Saw what that looked like coming from him, and couldn’t even plead ignorance after spending hours before talking to the guy and borderline liking it.

And while John wasn’t offering him beer this time, Sharky could imagine just how good it’d feel to throw back that water and chug it.

John patted the seat again.

Fuck it, Sharky thought, and made his way over the bench. Sitting down, he cracked open the water John pushed his way, and downed it in record time.

And it was good. Good enough to get a loud, drawn out sigh from him the minute it was gone.

John smiled out of the corner of his eye, but said nothing. Just lowered his sunglasses and tilted his head skyward again as he soaked in the sun.

He almost didn’t know how John did it. Still in all of his layers, he looked comfortable, and wanted more sun on top of it.

At least he’d given up on his hoodie hours back. Pulling at the neck of his tank, Sharky dragged it up to mop at his face, peeling it away from his skin long enough to get some airflow going. It wasn’t much, but he’d take it, cooling off even a hair just by having it there.

It was quiet after that. Quiet enough for him to hear every bird that flew overhead, and the movement of the river as it drifted on by. Soaking it all in reminded him just how damn pretty it all was, and how he’d be fine with spending a lazy day here himself, but he wasn’t here to be lazy. Hell, he wasn’t even here to take a breather, even with John’s stamp of approval, because that didn’t put boards up. That didn’t knock dollar signs off of any of this, and instead of making progress Sharky was sitting well within view of it all with his thumb up his ass.

Well, he was twiddling them more than anything, and he’d found a decent rhythm to follow with his feet going off of the one started in his head, but the longer he stayed in place the more he felt the need to move, and he wouldn’t be able to handle it much longer. Not at this rate.

“Having trouble?”

With his sunglasses still down, John angled his head just enough to be able to see him, and Sharky side-eyed him as he dragged his tank off. “Yeah, it’s hot. I’m fucking swimming over here and you’re telling me you’re not?” He twisted it between his hands and squeezed, and John’s nose wrinkled at the gesture. “I’d have shed more than half of that shit after ten minutes.”

“Clearly, judging from your current state,” John said, opening both eyes to look at him. “But I wasn’t referring to any of that. It’s hardly been five minutes, and you’re all but vibrating in place. Is it really that difficult to stand still?”

Sharky gave him a withering look. “You kinda forget the part where I’m working to pay you off? And the longer I take, the longer I gotta do any of this?”

Pursing his lips, John sighed. “You can take ten to rest. You can take fifteen even. If you’re tired you get injured, and if you’re injured you can’t work. Defeats the purpose of any of it, doesn’t it?”

“Well, yeah. But-”

“Believe it or not, I don’t want to see you hurt again.” John sat up, and leaned towards him. “And I’m in charge here still, aren’t I? I could order you to sit here for however long I wanted, but I won’t.”

A frown had crept in, but Sharky let it go. “Yeah?”

“Yes, because that won’t get either of us what we want, and right now I want you healthy and thinking clearly. You, on the other hand, want to be debt-free, and only work will properly get you there, but I think I may have found a compromise. I did mention that I wouldn’t be throwing orders at you to sit still. That’s still true, but a bet? That might be more to your liking.”

“…A bet?”

John’s lips curved into a wicked smile. “That’s right. A bet. Interested?”

Asking about it to begin with was a strike. John’s growing smug-ass smirk, strike two. Admitting he was interested at all was the third, and the longer the answer sat in his mouth, the longer he wanted to keep it there.

“Seeing as a bet got you into this to begin with, I can understand the hesitation,” John replied, stretching the word out, “but it does tempt, doesn’t it? And I will promise you there’s no hidden catch, or difficult task ahead. Only a simple request.”

Simple. The guy had on almost a three-piece suit to sweat in, and was regularly paid to make shit as complicated as possible. Simple for him came with enough fine print to make Sharky’s head want to start pounding. But hearing him out and agreeing to it were two totally different things. Nothing set in stone, nothing he could claim as legally binding or whatever, so…

“Like what?”

John raised his sunglasses, and made sure they were looking at each other directly. “You remain here, in place, resting with no complaints for fifteen minutes, and you’ll be fifty dollars richer for it.”

Letting it all sink in, Sharky ran over the challenge, lapped it two times over, scrunched up his face as he came back to the start, and still couldn’t drop the suspicious look he shot John’s way. “You want me to sit here.”

“Yes.”

“Doing nothing, like just kicking back and loving it, and that’ll net me fifty big ones?”

“I’ll place it in your hand myself as long as you don’t move a single muscle. Is that acceptable?”

Fifty dollars for doing jack-shit? Hell yeah, it was.

It was also playing right into whatever John wanted. Let him pull the strings on whatever mini-power trip this was, which annoyed the hell out of him the longer Sharky thought about it, so he crossed his arms and focused on giving him as cold a shoulder as he could. Just ignored him completely as John started tapping his fingers against the bench, and didn’t say jack or shit in response.

“Would a hundred dollars suffice?”

That made his eyebrows go up.

“I suppose fifty might’ve been too modest of a thing to offer. Hardly worth taking a risk for.”

“Oh, it’s still fifty bucks,” Sharky said, turning towards him. “That’s some good shit right there.”

“Really? Then I can only imagine how appealing double that amount would be. Or perhaps even triple?”

Boom. A hundred and fifty dollars, as if it were nothing.

Sharky sat up and held up his hands. “Whoa, whoa, just-first up, you’ve got that much on you right now? And second, you’re just gonna hand that over?”

John shrugged a shoulder and glanced away. “I wouldn’t make an offer I couldn’t back, and it’s only if you earn it.”

“So, you do.”

“I might.” The smile came back, one that really should’ve set off more warning bells than it did, and John aimed it right at him. “Depending on whether or not you decide to say yes.”

Scrunching up his face, Sharky really didn’t want to, but John had him. Fucking hook, line, and sinker, and he let out a sound of aggravation before finally saying, “All right, all right. I’ll do it.”

“You will? So, we have a deal?”

“…Yes, we do.”

John held out his hand to him. Eyed him expectantly as his smile grew even sharper. He had half a mind to shove it back at him, but knew exactly what he was waiting for. What was going to seal this for him, and rolled his eyes only for John to jerk his hand away the second Sharky reached for it.

“Ah, ah, if you could,” John said, pretending to wipe his hand off on his shirt.

Sharky glanced down at his palm. It really wasn’t that bad, just sweaty, but he scrubbed it against his jeans anyway, shooting John a dirty look as he did it. However, when he went for him again, John didn’t fake him out. Just let him take his hand as Sharky gave it a firm shake.

“Excellent,” John replied, and he could’ve sworn the motherfucker almost purred it.

Lawyers, man. He probably got off on this shit, and Sharky let go of his hand as soon as the thought hit.

Returning to his side of the bench, John checked the time on his watch and gently tapped at its face. During this, Sharky slipped his tank back on and waited as the seconds ticked by. Started tapping his fingers against the bench himself - none of it even close to John’s established rhythm - and almost attempted whistling before deciding to say something.

“Yo, you gonna start this? Or are we-”

“Almost. Patience is a virtue after all,” John said, eyes right on his watch, “and yours will be rewarded in due time.”

Tap, tap, tap.

Tap, tap, tap.

By the third set of taps, he’d fallen back into it too, drawn in without even thinking.

Tap, tap, tap.

Tap, tap, tap.

All of it like clockwork up until he saw John’s finger pause in mid-air. “All right. Your time starts…now, and don’t forget our terms.”

“Yeah, yeah, my ass ain’t going anywhere. Better hope you’ve got more than a twenty and a few crumpled ones, though, ‘cause I ain’t gonna lose this.”

“Oh?”

“It’s half-off shots at the Eagle tonight,” Sharky replied with a grin. “Karaoke’s on too. Hurk’s already got me covered for half, but the minute I win this and head out there, shit’s gonna be fucking lit.”

John rolled his eyes. “And every cent gone just as fast as you've earned it.”

“So, I wanna go out and enjoy myself. The hell’s wrong with that?” Sharky shot. “That’s making the best of a Tuesday when I don’t got a whole lot else going on. ‘Sides, can’t spend it all there anyway. Still gotta buy underwear, socks, shoes and shit.”

Ticking each one off on his fingers, the mental price tag kept climbing, and he squinted out over at the boathouse as he added it all up.

“Then there’s gas. Can’t run out of that. Mags, ‘cause I gotta stay up to date on my reading and viewing material. Food, though my jerky stash’s all right, but I could grab more cereal. And duct tape, which is fucking magical. Seriously, get a roll, it’ll fix anything.”

“Anything?”

“Anything. Hole in your pants? Done. Hole in your roof? Done. Hole in you? Also done, though if it’s a real gusher, you uh….might wanna slap two or three layers onto it, or I don’t know, go with that Flex Seal shit. You know, like on the infomercials?” he asked, nudging John with his elbow. “Keeps most of the bleeding internal rather than external, though you’d need to ask Hurk about the last time we tried that. Might’ve been in and out of it as he ran me to the clinic, and he swears by the stuff.”

Sharky pretended to slap some on his arm - flashing John a thumbs up while he was at it - only for John to give him a flat look.

“What? Shit works! It seals, and it holds. And I know it works ‘cause I only lost so much of my blood on the way into the clinic, and even the doc was looking at me like I should’ve kicked it. So, if anyone’s gonna give it a bonafide seal of approval, it’s me. Get it? ‘Cause it’s a seal, and I’m here telling you about it, and uh…yeah.”

Sharky’s crooked smile fell as John stared him down, and he let the rest trail off after that. Just shifted his attention to his hands as he pulled off his cap and gave it a few shakes before flexing and folding it between them.

“How either of you are alive at this point I don’t think I’ll ever understand.”

“Good luck, and maybe a little something my cuz calls Boshaw Bo-wisdom.”

John pressed both hands to his eyes, breathed deep, and then dragged them down. “Wisdom.”

“Bo-wisdom.”

“Charlemagne, you are…” John began, considering him long enough to make Sharky’s leg start bouncing in place, “absolutely bewildering, and yet-”

“Really, really ridiculously good looking?”

John’s words caught in his throat, and he coughed out a laugh a beat later.

"That don’t sound like a no." Sharky slapped a grin on his face and slipped his hat back on. “Like, I know I ain’t a fancy lawyer or a pilot, but I got it.”

John opened his mouth, but paused. Hmm-ed to himself as he gave him a quick once-over, and cocked his head. “A certain, je ne sais quoi?”

He'd been full set on John giving him a no straight-up, but that wasn't it at all. “Uh, sure? If you wanna get all fancy with that too.”

Never mind the handful of French he knew came from commercials, food labels, and old Saturday morning cartoons, but he’d heard some form of that before once or twice, and didn’t recall anyone getting slapped for it.

“Fancy?” John laughed, and said something else. A whole string of words Sharky didn’t recognize at all up until the final ‘oui?’, and raised an eyebrow.

“Amigo, if you want me to agree to any of that, you’ll have to give me something. ‘Cause I got the yes, but everything else?” Sharky waved a hand right over his head, and whistled.

Because of course John would know another language inside and out too. Probably went straight to France to learn it, and could’ve spun up all sorts of shit that sounded nice on first pass only to mean something else entirely. The longer Sharky thought it over, the more it made him want to frown at it, and before long went back to staring out at the boathouse. Focused on burning a hole right into it, and wouldn’t have cared too much if he’d actually had the ability.

“What did you think I said?”

“I dunno,” Sharky muttered. “Something-something, mustache twirl, you suck?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched John’s amusement fade. “I said that you probably didn’t understand me, which was a shame. It leaves things more than a little one-sided, and insulting you during that’s something I’d prefer not to do. Especially since a proper insult would’ve been more along the lines of this.”

The next string of words still had that overly fancy ring to it as it all flowed together, but by the time John turned to him, Sharky was watching him intently.

“Would you like to know that one?” John asked.

“Dude, you can’t just say that shit and leave it hanging like that.”

John leaned towards him, silent as Sharky motioned for him to get on with it, but what followed was stated so bluntly, it took a solid minute to sink in.

But the moment it did, Sharky let out a laugh that had him almost doubling over as he struggled to recover from it. “Fuck, man! Are you for real?”

A smile crept onto John’s face, and soon he was smiling as wide as Sharky was. “I might’ve picked that one up a long time ago from an acquaintance of mine.”

“And you actually got to say it? Like face-to-face?”

“Once or twice, but it loses its impact if you say it too often, so I might’ve had to use a few alternatives in its place. A hazard of the job, really.”

“So you’ve got a whole bunch of these stashed and ready to go, huh? Like if I say something, like ‘shove your head up your own ass’, you’d be able to translate it, no problem?” More French followed, and Sharky squinted at John when his name popped up in the middle of it. “Cool. ...Long as you didn’t just tell me to shove my own head up there.”

“No, I merely said that of course, it would be possible.”

“The whole saying it part, and not-”

“Not the second.” And John slipped back into it again, saying every last word with a smile right on his face. “But that would be how I’d phrase it if I wanted to.”

With that on that table, Sharky threw another insult at him. Just let the eager feeling driving him take the wheel, and John didn’t even pause this time before quickly giving him the translation for it. He even sounded it out for him as Sharky tried reciting it right after, and was left practicing Rs with John until even his tongue needed a fucking break. Then went for another, and another, and neither of them let up for a second. Even when he decided to get creative with it, throwing weirder and more obscure stuff at him, it didn't matter. John gave it all a fair shake. Whether he was thinking over some of the harder phrases, or giving him the evil eye, John never told him no, or to fuck off. He dished it all back, the words way too damn smooth for the kinds of things Sharky was asking about, and even started chuckling with him midway through the last one, giving up the fight completely as he came to a stop and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Stumped?”

John peered over at Sharky as he kicked back in his seat, but glanced away the minute he started waggling his eyebrows at him. “This was not the intended use of the language. Not as I first learned it, and not later on when I experimented with it as well, so forgive me if I need a moment to continue entertaining any of the things that have left your mouth so far.”

“Hey, you offered.”

“After you asked,” John countered, lowering his hand. “And you did, so there’s no arguing that point. But I will admit that this is one of the more interesting uses of that particular skill set. Even after having a chance to test it on the streets of Paris myself.”

“Figures,” Sharky chuckled. “Probably been everywhere.”

“Almost. I made a list of places when I was fresh out of law school, and started crossing them off one by one. Wanted to see the world beyond the one built around me and for me, but…over time it lost its appeal, and other things became much more important.”

John leaned forward, folding his hands together as he rested them on his thighs, and aimed a curious glance his way. “How about you? Ever traveled?”

“Me?” Sharky asked, gesturing towards himself. “Like, I’ve been to the border. Got to see Canada for about five minutes before Hurk had to get us out of there, but having a PO kinda put a damper on any travel plans real quick. But that don’t mean I don’t want to. Just never had the chance, you know?”

“So, where would you go if you were able to?”

“Shit, all sorts of places. Could probably stay local, but where’s the fun in that? Better somewhere far away, exotic. Like Florida.”

John’s eyebrows drew together. “…Florida.”

“Florida,” Sharky repeated, bobbing his head.

When he didn’t say anything further, John wet his lips and turned towards him fully. “I could offer to fly you anywhere in the world right now. To any continent, any place, and given those options would you still make the same choice?”

“What’s wrong with Florida?”

John slowly blinked at him. “Aside from it being Florida?”

“Aw, come on," Sharky said, lightly punching him in the arm, "they got all sorts of nice things there. It ain’t all orange juice and gators. Got cocktails, racing, and palm trees too. Oh, and water sports.”

This time when John pressed his lips into a thin line and scowled, Sharky eyed him right back.

“I’m talking polo and jet skis. Dunno where your mind’s going, man.”

“Well, there’s a good reason for that,” John spat, “and I’m staring right at i-”

A shrill beeping cut him off, nearly making Sharky jump in his seat as he gripped the bench. “Not it! Also, my ass is on this. Didn’t leave it once.”

John dropped his gaze down to his watch, and frowned deeply as he shut it off.

“Wait, we hit fifteen already?”

That had Sharky’s eyebrows flying sky high with no hope of falling. Leaning towards him - which was pretty pointless seeing as he couldn’t read shit even from the new angle - he got as far as reading the hour before John jerked his left arm away from him.

“Yes, and much as I’m loathe to admit it, you’ve honored our agreement.”

On the edge of his seat, Sharky watched John climb to his feet and pull out his wallet. Thumbing quickly through the bills, he didn’t even look up at Sharky before withdrawing them, and just tossed the cash his way.

“Uh, cool, I guess-whoa, hey!” Snatching them out of the air, he’d crumpled the bills in his rush to save them, and did a double-take when he realized just what he was looking at. “Yo, this is-you said one-fifty, max.”

“And?” John asked, acting like he’d just tried to inform him the sky was blue, that he was a dick, or that water was wet. Simple run of the mill shit that anyone would know.

“This is two-hundred, man. Don’t remember agreeing to that.”

John tilted his head back, and lowered his sunglasses. “They’re the smallest bills I have. Perhaps you lucked out there as well.”

The smallest he had. Not a fifty, not even a twenty, but hundreds only.

What. The fuck, Sharky mouthed, gaping at him.

“And I do believe that means your break is also over, so if you could?”

“Whoa, what?” Sharky sputtered, as John turned his back on him and headed towards the building. “You-you told me to do this shit!”

“I bet you that you wouldn’t be able to,” John threw out, glancing at him over his shoulder. “Now that you’ve proven me wrong, I see no reason why you wouldn’t be able to redouble your efforts and really impress me, hmm?”

Disappearing through the entrance to the boathouse, Sharky had a minute to sit there. Mouth open, wide enough to swallow a fucking bee if it decided to fly right into it, before John poked his head out of the doorway.

“Sometime today?”

Letting out a string of profanities - including more than a few he’d thrown at John not even five minutes ago - Sharky crammed the bills into his pocket and booked it after him.

With over half of the day left to burn, he might as well not waste it.

[writemoment]

Lovely Monster

Writer: Ellie-Mae (Pen Name)

Part: 1/1

Summary: There isn’t a single monster he couldn’t love. Not even me.

Pairing: Newt Scamander x Werewolf!Reader

Warnings/Rated: Mentions of abuse, comforting acceptance and fluff

Word Count: 2,155

( Reader ) P.O.V.

The darkness outside was nowhere compared to what was held inside my chest. These overwhelming feelings- a nightmare, forever my reality. My father screams out, smashing books into the walls as he lets out his anger. “You’re a freak, just like your mother! At least she had the decency to die!”

My body folds into itself, hiding from the abusive behavior of my father. The moon begins to take it’s effect on me and I can feel my bones cracking, breaking into my horrid form as it goes. Choked sobs and whimpers can be heard as hair sprouts from the pores of my skin, showcasing the freak I truly am.

Realizing I have little time left, I push my way out the nearest exit and away from the house. The pain is immense but I can’t allow myself to be chained and tortured tonight. 

Running through the dark, thick forest, I rush until I no longer can. Falling to my knees I howl at the hurt and coil around myself. Then it’s complete. The bones have realigned themselves and my vision is blurred with what I can’t control. My inner wolf taking over. 

Trees pass my traveling body in a blur, leaving no recognition for me to follow back. Soon, I’m at the edge of a cliff, overlooking the distant green of plantation and I howl at the moon. What a cliche- something I cannot control.

Contrary to the rush of adrenaline, the cool breeze that brushes over my fur brings a kind of calm over my nerves and slowly, my wolf steadies into a less frantic pace. Every time I’m forced to shift, it’s because of the moon or because of my dad. Rarely do I shift on my own. I’m too scared of what I become to willingly submit to that power.

My mother was the same way. She was too scared of her other nature, so she rarely shifted. My dad, being the human he was, hated us for the things we couldn’t control. When she passed, he didn’t even shed a tear. Anger filled tears ran through my whiskers as I remember his words, ‘good riddance’.

Strolling through the thick of the woods, I imagine a world that didn’t cringe at the things they don’t understand. Everything turns taboo at that point and no longer given a proper chance. For once, I want to be accepted for what I am. Perhaps that’s too much to ask for, but it’s something I harbor in the depths of my heart- both wolf and human. 

Bright streaks of light cut through the dark and it catches my eye with its spectacular array of color. Sticking to the shadows and staying covered, I creep to the peculiar scene that’s unfolding underneath the canopy of stars. 

Two bodies are running, dodging the spray of light as they round each other. They’re holding out some sort of weapon in front of them, being the source of the colors that had caught my attention.

My heart beats fast in my chest and my paws dig into the dirt, ready to sprint at any indication of harm to come my way. The taller one speaks a foreign word with clarity and I watch as the other falls backward, grunting at the impact.

“Hand over the egg and you’re free to go.” The tall one says, seeming calm and collected in this odd situation.

Grunting, the man offers up, what appears to be, a silver egg with a toss of his hand. Catching it carefully, the taller seems distracted as he coddles the egg while looking it over. That’s when the one on the ground raises his hand, ready to strike the clueless man.

Stepping forward, a deep growl bursts from my chest and they both snap their attention to me. My teeth pull up and I snarl, sending the lower one to chant something before disappearing from his previous spot in the blink of an eye.

Hmph

Whatever was going on, I knew that I couldn’t let anyone get hurt. Even in this form, this freak of nature knew that there was something worth protecting. It was a feeling, an instinct. 

However, unlike the other man that had left at the sight of me, this other one remains. His soft eyes study me, his posture unflinching as he slowly lowers himself to a less threatening position.

I feel my haunches rise as I cautiously circle him. “Steady there.” His voice is smooth, accent beautifully rich. “I’m not going to hurt you…” There’s something quite odd about him. Not in a bad way, more like a breath of fresh air.

Everything around me seemed to slow down and the black began to swallow me whole. The last thing I remember is smelling earth and the muffled voice of the man saying something into my unconsciousness.

****

My body feels the shift before my mind does. The cool air forces goosebumps to rise on almost every inch of my skin. I awake to warm-toned light and unfamiliar surroundings. There’s a scratchy warmth heavy over my torso and I see someone had made an attempt of throwing a blanket over my body. 

I scan the area for any sign of life but see none. However, I can sense it. I feel that I am not alone. Wrapping the blanket over myself, I groan as I crawl into a sitting position.

That’s when he appears. “Are you okay, miss?” He asks, eyes worried and lips parted in distress. In this lighting, I can fully see his features. Pale skin marked in constellations of freckles, light brown hair tousled in a messy mop atop his head. His eyes; I can’t quite pinpoint what color they are, just that they’re magnificent.

“Yeah… It always aches after I shift back.” I tell him, hissing quietly through my teeth as I reposition my body to face him. His shoulders slump a bit and he comes closer to where I was lain. Out of habit, I recoil into my body to take up as little space as possible.

“I’m not going to hurt you…” He says, quickly pouring me a cuppa tea before extending it to me. “My name is Newt. It seems that you exerted your energy back there. Blacked out from it, I’m sure.”

Uncurling from myself, I slip the mug from his hand. Our fingers momentarily swipe past one another’s and I, for the first time, don’t shy away from the contact. “Thank you.” A moment of quiet passes as I sip the warm beverage. “My name is Y/n. I’m sorry for putting you in this position.”

“What position is that, exactly?” He asks, confused.

“I- I don’t purposely shift into, well, that. I was just trying to find escape. Usually when the full moon comes, I’m…. nevermind that. I just usually don’t lose control like that.” My admission causes me to fidget in my seat. This all around is unusual for me. I’ve never told anyone about this issue.

However, Newt doesn’t seem to mind. “No use in beating yourself up over something you have no say in. Though I’m sure we could whip up a potion to keep your shift from happening during the full moon. That is, if you’d like.”

His voice is so melodic and comforting. It’s the exact opposite of my father’s. I nod, wide eyed. “You can do that?” My entire life has been spent in fear and Newt’s offer is the first hope I’ve had a taste of. To be honest, I’m desperate for more.

The desperation, the shock, must drip heavily from my lips because Newt’s eyes melt into pure kindness as he studies me thoughtfully. He smiles, stretching his lips so thin they almost disappear. Extending his arm he offers his hand to me.

Patiently, he waits for me to accept his invitation. I pause, quite noticeably so, for a moment before slipping my palm into his. They’re warm, rough but oh-so gentle. He leads me to the door and opens a whole new world before me. Magnificent and wonderous creatures are scattered about the expanse. And for the first time in my life, I don’t feel so different.

****

It has been three days since Newt has offered to take me in. He didn’t ask but I know he could sense my dread at the thought of returning to my life before. We fell into a mutual understanding that I just needed time. It was nice to not have anything expected of me.

Newt is shy. That’s an understatement but he is also extremely kind. He gave me space but also let me test my ability to trust. Every moment in the presence of the wizard gave me confidence to seek him out.

He taught me how to care for his creatures by his side. He showed me magic and a world I hadn’t previously known existed. Every time he opened up a bit to me, I felt myself doing the same. I recognized the Occamy eggs as the very same one he had retrieved the night I met him in the forest. It made me realize how much Newt cared about and sacrificed for these fantastic beasts.

Days went by and he began to trust me enough to leave me in his suitcase, which is where I had awoken that first night. Newt traveled a lot and was a very busy person, actually. Even then, he would always return and those were the hours that I found myself eagerly waiting for. Because I, also, very much began to trust him.

One day, Newt found me kneeling outside and cradling my hand to my chest. “Are you okay, Y/n?” His voice was thick with worry as he rushed over to my side.

“Don’t get to close, Newt-” I plead. He stops a few steps away from me, “I-I don’t know what I’ll do if I shift…” Tears pool in my eyes as I try to calm myself down. Pain triggered me sometimes and the last thing I’d want to do is hurt him.

Despite my warning, Newt kneels beside me and peels my arm away from my body. “What happened?” He asks as he begins to examine the cut that’s angry and red on my wrist.

“I cut it on the edge of the feeding pail… I’m afraid I’m going to hurt you, Newt. Please.” He stands up with me and swiftly leads me inside the small flat. With such familiarity and ease, he begins to snip different herbs and pouring mixtures from vials.

I watch him with amazement and a bit of confusion. Before I know it, the pain has subsided and he’s wrapping my arm up with gauze. “Why aren’t you afraid of me?”

Newt freezes in his actions before throwing a glance at me over his shoulder. “Because you’re not someone to be feared. At least, not for the reasons you’re referring to.”

His way of thinking, the way he perceives the world, is so unlike anything I’ve ever known. The wizard begins to put away medicines and I watch him quietly for a moment. “My dad wasn’t fond of my kind…Actually, that’s putting it nicely. He hated werewolves.”

My fingers fidget in my lap and I keep my gaze firmly fixed on them as I speak. Afraid that if I see Newt’s eyes, I’ll be too self-conscious to tell him. “He didn’t know Mom was one until it was too late. She was already pregnant with me. When she died, I lost the one person who saw me as I truly was. My father… he was violent, cruel and- and scared.

“Meeting you was the best thing that has happened in my life. Because for the first time, I wasn’t seen as a threat or as strange. You didn’t expect anything of me. You saw me as Y/n. Not as a werewolf.”

My forehead creased with emotion and salty teardrops fell onto my clasped hands. I sucked my lower lip between my teeth to stop the slight wobble. Chancing a glance at Newt, I find him standing in front of me. 

Newt. His eyes glistening, not in pity, but with compassion towards me. Kneeling down so that his face was parallel with mine, he swiped away the stray tear that lingered off my chin. “There are no strange creatures, only blinkered people.”

With those words, I felt understood and, in a way, loved. Every day that I spent getting to know Newt Scamander, the more I began wanting to learn more. He loved his creatures and never truly believed monsters were born, they were made. 

There was time for us to grow together, to grow fond of one another. As we went on, I knew that I’d become more confident with Newt by my side. There wasn’t a ‘monster’ he couldn’t love. Not even when it came to someone like me.

Masterlist Here

A/N: Thank you for reading! xx - Ellie-Mae

[nelllraiser]

familiar strangers | bea, luce, & nell

TIMING: a few days after and then you’re free (escape from the ring). LOCATION: the vural home. PARTIES: @nelllraiser, @beatrice-blaze, and @divineluce. SUMMARY: the sisters finally come clean to one another. 

This had been a long time coming. It had only been recently that Nell had promised her sisters answers, a look into the part of her life that she’d been hiding since...she wasn’t quite sure for how long. And they all had questions about necromancy. As for Luce, she couldn’t be certain what secrets she might hold, but it was time to bare them all to the light, to start anew with one another, and know each other for who each of them truly were. “I think-,” Nell began, knowing that they’d all have much to say. “We should try and just let each other speak at first, maybe. To get the secrets and whatever out before asking questions or anything.” She didn’t want to be judged, and she doubted Bea and Luce wanted to face scrutinous eyes, either. “That’d probably make this all easier.” But which of them would go first? “I don’t know who wants to say their stuff first, but we can draw straws or volunteer or whatever.” 

Leaning back against the countertop of the kitchen counter, Luce stared at Nell as she spoke before her eyes went to Bea. They all had secrets. They all had questions. And for fucks sake, she wasn’t going to wait until the next time one of them got hurt or kidnapped or ki-- there wasn’t going to be a next time. She wanted all of this shit out in the open, right now. She’d wanted answers the day she’d stepped out of the hospital, after her conversation with Bea. But, her mind wandered back to everything that had happened with Nell, with Remmy, with Rio, with Nadia… She hadn’t had time for some spill your secrets session. At Nell’s suggestion of drawing straws, she rolled her eyes. “Fuck me, no. Let’s just get it over with.” Holding up her hand, Luce attempted to tap into the magic she’d felt that night at the Ring, consumed with worry and fear. Fire sprang to life at her fingertips, the flames just as blue they’d been since the day she’d heard of Bea’s death. Trying her best to focus in on the magic, she gritted her teeth and threw more power into the flames, willing them to-- the flames sputtered for a moment, crackled, and the barest hints of electricity arced through the air. With a wave, the magic dissipated. “I’ve been trying to learn lightning magic for the past fucking six years. It’s not necromancy or demon summoning. But yeah.”

There was a bubble of nerves in her stomach as Bea stood with her sisters. She had poured herself a glass of whiskey, but barely sipped from it now. She knew why they were in the kitchen, it had been a place of comfort for all of them before. “It’s best if we leave me to last, you two probably have a lot to ask me.” She would if she was them. She certainly had questions for Nell. As Luce showed them her secret, a smile took Bea’s face. Now that was amazing. Lightning. She had never even considered using her fire to create something like that when she had been alive. “Not necromancy or demon summoning, but it’s pretty amazing. You’re learning that by yourself?” Bea surprised herself when she heard the proud tone to her words. She couldn’t remember the last time she had sounded like her old self. She supposed it would make sense that one of her sisters brought it out of her. “I’ve never even heard of someone using lightning magic before.” Her finger idly went around the rim of her glass, considering her middle sister. 

It made sense that Luce wouldn’t be as reluctant to show her secret as the others might be. Nell didn’t think that lightning magic was something that had the power to tear them apart, but her gaze still lit up as she took in the pretty and powerful way the magic crackled from Luce’s palms. Still, she internally flinched at the mention of demon summoning, a learned panic flaring up at the mention of it. Did Bea realize what Luce was insinuating by mentioning it in the same sentence as necromancy? She tried to focus on Luce, but it was difficult with the dread building inside of her. Nevertheless, Nell’s intrigue and admiration came through her words. “‘How long have you been able to do lightning? That’s pretty badass.” Perhaps she didn’t quite understand it as much as Bea did, seeing as she’d never been a fire elemental, but she could still support her sister in how cool it was in general. “But same, I haven’t seen someone use lightning like that before.” Should she mention her own strange magic that had seemingly popped up? Luce already knew about it, and it wasn’t exactly something she considered a secret. This was secret time, wasn’t it?

For the first time in years, Luce squirmed under the scrutiny of her sisters. They’d always been the focus of attention, either from their parents or from others. Having them stare at her, compliment her, admire her… It was everything she’d wanted growing up, but having it now? It felt wrong. Strange. Foreign. Shrugging, Luce glanced over at Bea’s glass of whiskey, idly wondering why her sister hadn’t gone for gin. “Other people have done it in the past. I read about it one day while going through some of Mom’s books and… just kinda latched onto it. Been doing a lot of reading since then.” She said with a sigh. “It’s part of why I got my cabin. I wanted to focus on figuring it all out on my own.” At Nell’s question, she shifted uneasily. “The first time I did it was at the Ring, but it felt… I don’t know. It felt familiar. Like I’d done it before.” She muttered, thoughts drifting to the spider web of scars across her chest. With a shake of her head, she glanced at Bea. “Yeah… Yours should be last. Your turn, Nellie.”

As her pride simmered, Bea considered Luce, eyes narrowed with thought. Her sister had always been powerful, but this was a different type of power. It was rare and to those who didn’t understand elemental magic, it was scary. Luce had kept it from them, but her secret had power to it. It wasn't magic that Luce would be attacked for either. Bea was sure that if they got that information circling around to the right people, they would begin to solidify the notion that coming after the Vurals was a fool’s errand. “I can ask someone I know if they have any more books on it.” If Leah could find her tomes on necromancy, she could find Luce information on lightning, but she would never betray Leah’s trust by mentioning what position she had. Her friend could tell Bea’s  sisters if she wanted to. “Should start to come easier for you then, if it feels familiar now.” That’s how necromancy had started to work for her after coming back. She was sure the same feeling could be applied to Luce. She turned to look at Nell, eyebrow raised,“Come on, spill.”

Nell’s own mind began to whir as Bea mentioned books. Why hadn’t she thought of that for her own attempts to look into whatever was happening with her magic? Like Luce, she also fidgeted under her sisters’ eyes, though it was for different reasons than the lightning bearer. Most of the time Nell was the center of attention between the three of them and their mother, it was because she was in trouble, and it was hard to shake that feeling now that she was going to get into the things she’d been most afraid her sisters’ would judge her for, possibly even hate her for. But Bea had also broken the rules, and Luce had too now. So that was something, right? They wouldn’t cast her out? “Well- you both already know about the Ring by now. That was part of the reason August came after us,” she said quickly, inclining her head towards Bea. “I started working for them a bit before I got home. But the uh- bigger reason he came after me was that he also saw me summoning a demon.” Summoning a demon like their grandmother had done. “He wanted to out me to the coven to get me kicked.” Luce already knew this part, but she still needed to tell it to Bea. “But I panicked- the coven is- you know it’s the only place I can...do things right.” A place where she wasn’t a freak, or constantly berated by her mother at all times. “I didn’t want to lose that. I tried to take his memories, but I fucked it up. They came back, painfully. And he decided he was done with me, I guess.” Now all she could do was brace herself for whatever her sisters might say.

"I... yeah. Yeah, that'd be great. Thanks." Luce said, slightly taken aback by her sister’s easy offering of help. She'd been working on this for so long, determined to find some kind of way to outshine Bea, to rise above Nell's trouble making streak. And now that she'd accomplished that, it didn't matter. She realized now that her pursuit of this strange and new power had been... petty. Attention, validation, it didn't matter in the grand scheme of things. The only thing that mattered was that her family was safe. And now, she had power that could ensure they would never be bothered again. If she could only control it. Luce looked over at Nell, listening intently to her younger sisters words. It wasn't all that different from the story Nell had told her back in the shed with August all those months ago. Just... a few key fucking details left out. Luce looked at the scarred skin of Nell's arms and remembered the way her sister's skin had been peeled back from her flesh. She remembered the way she'd looked when she'd emerged from the Ring, exhausted and drained. Nell had suffered enough. She didn't need to deal with criticism from them now. "What happened happened. Nothing we can do about it now. How long had you been doing this sort of thing? Just when you left home? Or before that?" She asked, wondering just how long they'd all been keeping secrets from one another.

Only two months ago, Bea would have looked at her youngest sister with disdain, ignoring her own hypocrisy. She had been comfortable ignoring the rules she was breaking, while dishing out judgment at every turn. She hummed as Nell spoke,“Guess you’re more like Grandma than we wanted to admit.” They had been taught to think of their grandmother with disgust, her use of magic being something bad. It was pretty amusing to think of how much they had turned out like her. There was a part of Bea that wanted to tell Nell she should have never attempted memory magic without help, but it wasn’t like the youngest Vural thought she would get support with this. Things would have ended up very differently if Nell thought she could come to Bea. “So that’s how you knew how to bind Greg. I was wondering for a while, but never thought I’d get a straight answer out of you.” She finally took a sip of her drink, letting the strong taste wash over her mouth. “Did you start doing it because you couldn’t do fire?” She knew that question was stepping into sensitive territory, but it was the only path Bea saw leading to summoning demons.

Nell’s shoulders relaxed in the slightest with the realization that she wasn’t about to be burned at the stake, and a small snort of relief passed over her as Bea made the comparison. “Well...technically, I guess I learned from her. I found some of her journals mom was hiding a long time ago and...well...read them and stuff.” It had been nice, almost comforting to read the words of someone that seemed to understand and was also in her family. She could only assume Luce meant how long she’d been working with demons. “I found the journals when I was fourteen. But I didn’t manage to summon any sort of demon until I was seventeen, during the summer between junior and senior year.” She’d worked hard that summer, all too engrossed with what she’d been working on. “But yeah, that’s how I knew what to do with Greg. I was hoping you’d think it just stopped at binding when it happened. And you were right in thinking you wouldn’t get a straight answer,” she finished with a dry chuckle. Nell shrugged at Bea’s question, not entirely sure how to answer it. “I mean- I started summoning cause I couldn’t do fire, obviously. I had to do something. And I understood it, you know? And demons were just...a deeper branch of summoning. I was curious and intrigued and I wanted to know if I could.” She’d wanted to be good at something, not even for her family, but for herself.

At Bea's pointed question, Luce's jaw clenched slightly. Of course she must have gotten started on this shit because she didn't have fire magic-- why else would Nell do something like that? Their whole lives, their mother had praised fire magic above all else and slandered their grandmother for defying the laws of nature. And yeah. Maybe it was fucked up. Maybe it was messing with forces beyond their control. But, any hesitation she'd had surrounding that kind of magic had long faded. She'd willingly fought alongside a hellhound, she'd studied necromancy, she'd helped resurrect Bea. She'd gone against every rule she once abided by... in the name of family. "Well, you succeeded." She said with a nod. "You haven't made any deals with any, right?" The last thing she needed to worry about was fighting a fucking demon for Nell's firstborn or some shit. As she thought more about Nell delving into their grandmother's journals, Luce blinked. "The journals-- is that where you learned about the body manipulation thing?" She asked, mimicking the way that August's hand had snapped backwards before the resurrection. Or had that just been something Nell has discovered on her own? Either way, it was fucking terrifying. Incredible, amazing, but terrifying too.

Bea’s mouth twitched up as she heard the reason Nell started summoning demons. Hadn’t that been part of the reason Bea has started doing necromancy. She had wanted to see how far she could go with the most banned magic. “Deals would be a pretty bad idea, but I’m sure Nell already knows that. She’s the expert after all.” The words slid easily off her tongue, but it felt strange to praise her over demons. Parts of Bea understood the danger of that. Parts of her wanted to weaponize that danger. She looked over to Luce sharply, eyes glittering with the new information. “Body manipulation? What does that mean?” She couldn’t control the excitement in her voice, already thinking of how powerful her sister must be to do something like that.

The way Bea and Luce seemed to talk about the demon summoning as if it were just another day in their lives...it was monumental in Nell’s eyes, to realize that she wasn’t going to be cast out from them for what she was practicing. “Deals are usually bad, yes.” She had to answer Luce’s question, though. “I’ve made some, if I’m being honest. But never any that that I wasn’t sure I’d be able to deliver on, or be tricked by.” Apparently they thought this was also a good time to talk about whatever new thing her magic had been doing, though. She wasn’t sure what to make of Bea’s excitement, but it was certainly better than the alternative. “No, that’s...different. I still don’t really get how it works. But it happened when Montgomery was going to kill me, and I accidentally did it to Kaden once too when things were...not great. I wanted them to stop and then they just...did. It hurt too, apparently.” She couldn’t help the glint beginning to shine in her eyes, remembering what she’d seen in the mirrors when it came to the power, the heart she’d held in her hand. “Kaden said it felt like his insides were being pulled in different directions or something. Maybe I could look in that for books, too. It felt...familiar but...not. I don’t know, it was strange. And then I did on the smaller scale with August’s hand.”

“Uh huh.” Luce said, more than a little uncomfortable by the fact that Nell had made deals with demons. She didn’t want to know what kind of payments she’d made, or what kind of deals she’d made. As much as she hated the idea of secrets, there were some things she just didn’t want to know. Nodding, Luce recalled what Nell had told her about her encounter with Montgomery. At her words about Kaden, she raised an eyebrow though. “Interesting.” She said slowly. Familiar but not. That was almost exactly how she’d felt about the lightning magic that coursed through her. Familiar in the way that fire had been, but altogether different from anything she’d ever felt before. Hm. Glancing over at Bea, she couldn’t help but wonder just who her sister was now. Since coming back, she was still her sister, still the same woman from before. But… there were definite changes. “Your turn. How long have you been at… all of this?” She gestured off-handedly, unsure of how else to put the subject to words. Necromancy.

A frown tugged at Bea’s face as Nell told them that she had in fact made deals with demons before. Even if the younger woman believed that she could take on whatever they wanted, it seemed like a dangerous game to play. She supposed, though, that all of them had been playing a dangerous game for a long time. She tilted her head at Nell, “You can just do it whenever you want?” Humming she took another sip of her drink,“We all need to practice these magics. We’ll need that strength soon.” She wanted them all to be the best they could be when they destroyed the hunter. “Just before I stopped coming to coven meetings. So about a year and a half now. We always talked about banned magic and I had always wanted to know why necromancy was banned.” She had been afraid for years to research it, terrified of what would happen if someone found out. Funny how if she had listened to the coven, she wouldn’t be alive now. “The more I read about it the more I wanted to try it. And when I tried it, I was good at it. It almost felt as natural as fire.”

“I can get the hellhounds whenever I want,” Nell said carefully. “And Greg too since he’s bound to me. Smaller demons are easier to do on the fly, but if you wanted someone powerful it takes more planning. But you can always do that beforehand, and then bind them to something while you wait for whatever it is you summoned them for. They don’t like being seen as tools though, obviously. I’ve developed the summoning...pretty well. I definitely want to figure out the other thing, though. The one that hurt Kaden and Montgomery. I think that could be...definitely useful. With them it was sort of instinctual magic, but I was able to do it intentionally with August.” Well enough to have summoned creatures people didn’t often feel comfortable enough to say aloud, or even knew the names of. As for why they’d need the strength...Nell could guess why. “Montgomery,” she simply said, letting the name fall between them all, the single word spiked with disdain and anger. But as she listened to Bea, she realized she only had more questions. “Is it mostly necromancy that you were exploring? Or was there anything else new?” She’d heard from Kaden about talk of shadows and the like, but she wanted to let Bea tell her if that’s what she wished. 

Nell’s words made sense-- she’d seen her sister summon the hellhounds like it was nothing. If she could do that, it didn’t surprise her that Nell was capable of summoning even greater demons. Fingers flexing instinctively at Bea’s words, Luce’s thoughts were spoken aloud by her younger sister. The hunter. The murderer. They’d dealt with August, wet the earth with his blood to bring Bea back. And now that she was back, now that all three of them had laid their cards on the table, it was time for Montgomery to face the consequences of his actions. “If it felt natural to you, that’s pretty fucking impressive. It didn’t feel that way for me at all.” She said, still remembering the way the magic had felt as it coursed through her body. Tilting her head at Nell’s words, she frowned. “Something else new?” She echoed, wondering what the younger woman meant by that.

Bea was far more interested in hearing about the body manipulation, but she listened carefully nonetheless about the demons. “Well, if Greg is bound to you, can you evict him from my house and call him whenever you need him,” She asked with no bite. The demon hadn’t bothered her in some time, but she had not let go of her grudge against him. She still found him a little annoying. “You can always try to practice your body manipulation on my new friend. He doesn’t feel pain. And if that doesn’t work, we’ll find other ways for you to practice.” Bea refused to call the hunter by his name, if she could help it. To her, he didn’t deserve to have that from her. Hearing his name made her smile sharp, eyes angry, fingers tight against her glass. “Yes, for him. I’m taking his head and I think it would do him well to understand what we all gave up to bring me back.” She would see that man ruined. He would never know peace, she was going to make sure of that. “It was only necromancy. I haven’t been looking into anything else. I don’t know why it felt natural, but it does. Even more now. I guess it’s because it’s all I have now, since my fire is gone.” She had never explicitly said she had lost her fire, but she was sure her sisters had guessed it. 

Nell wasn’t all that sure what to make of the Greg comment, remembering how it had been one of their grander fights before Bea had died, so instead brushed past it in her uncertainty of what to do with it. “He doesn’t?” she asked curiously, already mulling the thought over. “I mean that’d be...great, then. If I can just sort of experiment on him.” Even if the vision of the heart in her hand had worried her in the Hall of Mirrors, she was still curious enough to see if it could be a reality. Or something she could work up to. “You want to keep the head?” Nell asked, also not entirely clear on what Bea’s plans for it would be. “I definitely want to kill him too, but also make him hurt before he gets to die.” She didn’t want to push Bea, entirely. But the point of this was that there would be no more secret, so Nell decided to ask outrightly. “Someone mentioned that they saw some sort of like...shadowy magic pooling around you.” As for the fire...Nell wasn’t entirely sure what to say. It was something she couldn’t fully understand, having never used fire herself. “Well...at least now we outnumber Luce?” she said, trying to bring some levity to the words.

Luce listened to her sisters intently, mulling over their words. From Bea’s cold, callous words of violence and murder, to Nell’s quick agreement and eagerness to join in… She wanted Montgomery to pay, of course she did. She wanted him to feel the consequences of his actions. And if it boiled down to death… A slight chill went down Luce’s spine as she realized that she was just as eager to play her part, to work with her sisters to stop him. She’d killed before-- she’d killed August and even before that… she’d killed monsters. Killed creatures that tried to hurt her, that would have killed her without a second thought. And Montgomery? He was just another one of those monsters. “Death’s almost too good for him, but… it’ll do.” Luce said with a nod. She folded her arms across her chest while the other two talked about practicing on Bea’s new friend-- a corpse? Must be. Swallowing at the mention of Bea’s fire going out, Luce did her best to shoot Nell a grin. “Guess that makes me the odd one out for once. Go figure.”

“No one has ever written about how they feel pain and he’s never reacted poorly to anything I’ve had him do. Not that he reacts to anything,” Bea shrugged. Of course, if it turned out that he did feel pain, she would feel pretty badly about it. She wasn’t sure she would stop, but she would feel bad. “I just don’t want it to be with his body. If he comes back as a ghost, I want him to feel how I did when I realized my head was away from my body.” There was no way to explain how it felt being unaware of what was happening to parts of her body. Bea shrugged,“Kaden saw them when I was mad at the waitress, but I didn’t see them. I wasn’t casting any magic either, so I’m not sure why they were there.” She lifted her hand, staring down at it. She tried to summon something, but nothing truly changed. The light grew dimmer around her fingers, but she knew that could be some trick of her eyes. “How does it feel, Luce?”

“Alright...sure, yeah that doesn’t sound like a terrible idea if he doesn’t feel anything.” If Nell could practice on Bea’s resurrected corpse, that would be the best way to hone the new skill, wouldn’t it? “So what are you gonna do with him?” Nell wasn’t entirely sure how she felt about Bea stealing a body if they still had loved ones around to mourn them, but hopefully Bea would choose bodies respectfully. As for Montgomery not having a head, Nell’s grin grew sharper when her sister’s reasoning was given. “I like that. Good. He better not fucking come back, though.” As for the shadow magic or whatever it was, it seemed Bea was uncertain. “He seemed to think it was magic. Maybe another thing that’ll be worth exploring?” Her lips pursed as Bea’s flames continued to evade her, wishing her sister didn’t have to deal with the fallout of losing such a big part of her magic. “I’m sorry,” Nell apologized reflexively. If they’d done the ritual correctly, Bea would be sitting here with her flames in all their former glory. “And I’d say welcome to the club, Luce- but then you wouldn’t be the odd one out.”

Though they weren’t the same thing-- a resurrected corpse and a zombie were different-- Luce couldn’t help the slight lurch in her stomach at the idea of Nell practicing her body manipulating magic on the corpse. It reminded her too much of Remmy and she didn’t want to think about them right now. Uncrossing her arms, she drummed her fingers against the counter. Murder. Death. Torture. Months ago, she would have balked at the idea. Would have wondered why it was necessary to do something like that, when fear or posturing could get the job done. Not anymore. She’d learned that sometimes, death was the only way to truly protect others from harm. And she had learned there was nothing she wouldn’t do for her family. It had taken a twisted, fucked up lesson, but it had made her stronger. Made them all stronger. “If he comes back, we’ll send him back to Hell where he belongs.” She muttered darkly. But, the mood shifted slightly, from one of anger back to mild teasing and she relaxed a fraction. “Ah, you know me. I can manage just fine on my own.” Luce said with a wave of her hand.

“He’s around for protection and if I need help in the house,” Bea answered easily. She would wait to make more. She didn’t want to be grave robbing that often and she did understand, in some ways, how families would be upset if they knew what she was doing. She would be angry if someone did this to her body, but she needed this. “We’ll find a way to get rid of him if he comes back,” She told her sister resolutely. She considered this for a second, could she have become the opposite of once she once had? “I don’t know how to try to bring it back, Nell. Everything else came back naturally.” She had never once struggled with her fire magic, she didn’t know how to struggle when it came to the magic she was supposed to have. She shrugged off her sister’s apology,“I walked through death, of course I was going to come back different. At least I still have my magic. That’s what I was scared of.”

Protection certainly wasn’t a terrible idea. In fact, maybe it’d help Nell sleep a little easier at night around the house, knowing that there was something helping to protect her sisters. She certainly needed the peace of mind with all the trouble she’d had as of late including nightmares of her sisters and friends deaths in addition to being trapped below the Ring. “We’ll find a way to get rid of him,” Nell echoed in determination. She’d rip his soul to shreds herself if she needed to. It was true what Bea said, it was probably lucky that she even had her magic to begin with. Nell should be thankful. But it was hard to be thankful when she was the reason Bea even needed to worry about her missing fire magic in the first place. “But you’re right. You’re back now, that’s what matters.” The words sounded more like a lame attempt to convince herself rather than agreement. However, she supposed they’d done what they came here to do. There’d be no more secrets between the sisters. Their power would be as one. Just as they’d been born to be.

[randomoranges]

sometimes you have conversations with your friends and your mind is just boggled. 

also it’s @quatschmachen birthday so here, a birthday fic 

Shovel

198?/199?

 Étienne was comfortably nestled close to Edward, enjoying a rare snooze, when Edward’s body shifted. He grunted and slowly came to, before he opened bleary green-brown eyes. He glared at Edward who was now completely moving away from him and wondered what he had done to deserve such harsh treatment.

 “Where’you going?” He slurred. He’d just been about to get into a deep sleep, Edward’s body heat lulling him to it and now it was ruined.

 “Figured I’d get a head start on your shovelling. It’s been snowing non-stop.” Edward said as he motioned to the living room window, where snow continued to fall in fat flakes outside of it.

 Étienne rolled his eyes and sighed. He was being dismissed for fucking snow. “We’ve been through this before; the city takes care of it.”

 “Right, right,” Edward settled back for a moment and Étienne made himself comfortable again. They’d had a similar conversation a few years back. Edward had wanted to help Étienne shovel and Étienne had literally laughed in his face, telling him the city cleared the sidewalks. Edward had – not believed him, until he’d seen with his own eyes the city trucks come by and clear sidewalks and streets alike. He’d been – only a little bit jealous. Not that he’d ever told Étienne.

 But then Edward sat up again, “Your walkway. I’ll go do your walkway.”The city didn’t clear that – it was private property and all. Edward made to get up, but Étienne was quick to grab him by the sleeve and pulled him back down.

 “Murphy, Christ – I’ll take care of it tomorrow.” He would never understand Edward’s love affair with shovelling snow; especially when he was nice and cozy right next to Edward – and that it was late at night.

 “But there’s going to be more of it tomorrow.” Edward believed it was best to shovel a few times, if needed, instead of doing it all in one shot. Especially when it accumulated and there was a lot of it.

 Étienne sighed. His friend was dense when he wanted to. “Look – I promise it’ll be done tomorrow. It’ll take me twenty minutes, max. If not, you can berate me all you want. But for the love of God, just – let it be. The world won’t end because you didn’t fucking shovel at midnight.”

 Edward opened his mouth to counter-argue the point, but then closed it when he saw the look of pure annoyance on Étienne’s face. It wouldn’t do to get in a spat so late at night – not when it had been such a good day – and night. “Fine; but I was only doing it ‘cause I know how allergic you are to the cold and the snow – I was trying to be nice.”

 “Yes, I know, and it’s appreciated, but trust me – I got this.”

 “Alright; but if I hear you complain even once about all the snow you need to shovel, I will never ever let you live it down.” Edward finally resettled for good and Étienne grunted in response as he grabbed Edward’s arm and snuggled up to his side.

 --

 Edward was sleeping soundly, when all of a sudden; he heard the noise of something wake him up. He rolled over in bed and went searching for Étienne’s body to poke awake to ask him what the hell was going on, but he found the spot beside him empty.

 He groggily got out of bed and took notice of Étienne’s radio flashing bright blue lights that read 4h47am. He wondered where his friend was, why he’d been roused at this ungodly hour and headed towards the noise, hoping to find answers.

 His feet brought him to the patio door and as he stood by it, he noticed that the lights in the backyard were on and that – there was someone in the backyard – pushing a – snow blower.

 Edward blinked and rubbed his eyes, wondering if he wasn’t hallucinating, but sure enough, the figure continued to move, until it brought the snow blower back into the shed. For the briefest of moments, he thought maybe it was Étienne’s upstairs tenant, until Edward remembered that Étienne’s upstairs tenant was a middle-aged woman who had a bad hip and then the person turned.

 Edward thought for sure this time he was hallucinating.

 There was no way Étienne was actually outside. Or using a snow blower. Or clearing out the snow.

 Yet, the figure outside pulled off its jacket’s hood and Edward would recognise that mop of curly hair anywhere. The Étienne-lookalike walked back towards the front door and sure enough, moments later, Edward heard the door open and the same figure from before stepped in.

 Edward walked towards the entrance and watched, almost as if in a trance, as Étienne peeled off one layer after the next, until Edward had all the confirmation that he needed that it was indeed Étienne and not some pseudo-lookalike.

 He had, so many questions.

 “What the hell?” He asked, startling Étienne who hadn’t noticed him all throughout.

 “Jesus, are you trying to give me a heart-attack? What’re you doing up?”

 “I could ask you the same thing. What gives?”

 Étienne walked towards him and Edward noticed his friend’s rosy cheeks and even more dishevelled hair, despite the lack of proper light in the apartment, given the time it was.

 “I went to clear the snow.” Étienne answered with a shrug.

 “At four in the fucking morning?!”

 “Is there an actual appropriate time to clear snow? Are you the snow clearing expert?” He bit back.

 Edward rolled his eyes at Étienne’s tone, “No – I just – wasn’t expecting you to actually go out there and do it – let alone with a snow blower.” He shrugged. He’d never really seen a point to one. Shovelling snow by hand was – cathartic. A way of life. A rite of passage. A snow blower was expensive. And bulky. And took up space. And it was noisy.

 “Listen; not all of us like to suffer out in the cold and shovel for ages. It took me exactly twenty minutes to do just like I said. This is the sixth time this season it dumps over twenty-five centimeters of snow in one fall and it’s only December – I ain’t got the time nor the patience to go out and shovel every hour because it’s still snowing. Also, I couldn’t sleep and something told me you’d go out and shovel at like seven in the morning like some weird old man, so now it’s done.” Étienne walked past him and started heading back to the bedroom. Edward wordlessly followed him as his mind tried to make sense of everything his friend had just told him and everything else he’d just found out.

 “First of all, wow, okay then, second of all – I’m still trying to comprehend the fact that you know how to function a snow blower.”

 Étienne shrugged as he got back into bed and under the covers where it was nice and warm, “My former tenant would do it and I’d reduce their rent for it, but my new tenant can’t – someone’s gotta do it. Like I said – it’s faster and easier. I like to enjoy myself when I can, Murphy, we’re not all martyrs like you. I have enough issues with winter.” Étienne added with a grin that had more bite than humour.

 Edward blinked. He ignored the jibe made at his expense – for now – and tried to wrap his head around all of this. “I never would’ve expected you to own, let alone know how to use, a snow blower.”

 “Yeah, well, I’m just full of surprises. Now, will you actually get into bed or do you intent on staying up to catch the sunrise?”

 Edward sighed and crawled back under the blankets. Étienne snuggled up to him and Edward hissed when his friend placed his cold hands and feet against his warm skin.

 “You’re a menace.” He said as he tried to push away, but Étienne wouldn’t let him.

 “You chose to sleep in my room, let me remind you.”

 If Edward didn’t know Étienne as well as he did, he would have thought that he was being serious, but Edward liked to think that he knew Étienne quite well and thus, knew his friend was just teasing him.

 “Yeah and it’s a good thing I did – otherwise you’d freeze to death.”

 “Exactly,” Étienne chuckled, “Now, come here and let me warm up.”

 With a resigned sigh, Edward scooted closer and Étienne wrapped himself around him until he found a comfortable enough position.

 “Are you actually going to sleep or will you go out and build a snow fort in the next hour?” He asked, mock-serious.

 “If you quit asking me a million questions, I might just be able to get some sleep.”

 Edward rolled his eyes, amused, and finally settled in, just as Étienne did the same, all previous thoughts of snow, shoveling and snow blowers put aside. For now.

 FIN

[bang-to-the-tan]

Stray Cat Strut

Chapter 2

Reader x OT7

► Faerie!AU

Fluff, Comfort

Warnings: Mention of Death, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Faerie Mischevious Bullshit

↳ Summary: When your grandmother passes away, she leaves her countryside house in your name. The longer you stay, the harder and harder it becomes to explain away the odd happenings. What kind of secrets does this sleepy town hold? And why do the local animals act so strangely around you?…

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So maybe you should find a map to the hunting goods store. Or else, find someone to ask about it. Getting lost is one thing, but giving up is entirely out of the question. You can’t just leave the local wildlife to chew through your grandmother’s house. There are old signs posted up at every other road or so that indicate the direction of the local library, and it seems as good a place to start as any.

The town around you is so quiet, so peaceful, you find yourself understanding why granny decided to stay here as you walk. The roads aren’t perfect—some of the side walkways are narrow and made of stone—and some of the buildings look fit to fall apart, but there’s a charm in the air. A kind of comfortableness that you could seriously get used to. Clothes strung up to dry, hanging in the spaces between pastel-colored houses. Gardens overflowing with long grass and sweet flowers waving lazily. Windowsills crawling with ivy. The whole town seems to inhale with the breeze, warming itself in the sunlight.

You’re suddenly struck by familiarity at an intersection on your way to the library and you pause to read the sign, noting the street name. Ah. That’s why you recognize this place. Down this path to the right, through the foliage…it’s where your grandmother was married. For a few seconds, you hesitate, but eventually decide to take a short detour. After all, the library isn’t going anywhere.

The road goes from concrete to cobblestone to dirt beneath your feet as you walk forwards, noting the houses becoming fewer and fewer, the trees overhead becoming denser. The light dapples as it dances across your skin, the dead leaves curling over the edges of the path. It smells fresh, sweet, like green vegetation. You turn a corner past a particularly large tree and can just make out the bridge you’d seen in old photographs all your life. But as you get closer, your heart sinks. The weeds by the pond the tree cranes over are overgrown. The path uncared for. Moss devours the railings and eats away at the wood underneath, making it almost impossible to discern what colors it was once painted. You finally come to rest at the mouth of the bridge, looking over the edge, down at the murky water below forlornly. Even your reflection is hard to see. You turn back, straightening, and start faintly when you notice a figure standing there, just out of the reach of the shade from a nearby willow that bends its head to the water, lent a halo from the rays outlining his form. Somehow you must have missed his approach, but looking at him, you’re not sure how.

 He’s incredibly handsome. Tall, broad-shouldered, long-legged. A draft of wind sifts through the sunny sections of soft mocha hair that caress his face, almond-shaped eyes pensive as he watches the pond like someone in mourning. He’s entirely bewitching, even as he blinks slowly and turns to look at you. His lips are plump, the color of rose petals and just as delicately shaped. When he smiles bitterly, your heart breaks.

“Sad, isn’t it?” He says. He gestures around you with a hand, resuming his position leaning against the rail. His head shakes once, as if in disbelief, and he sighs. “I think so, too.”

“I’m sorry, I just…” You can’t think straight. It’s the first time you’ve ever been struck wordless by someone’s beauty. “I’ve seen old photos of this place. When it was taken care of.”

“There’s no one to take care of it,” he replies quickly. “No one left. It was beautiful once.”

“That’s a shame.”

The man nods.

“Does…” You begin, haltingly. “I mean, there’s gotta be someone who still cares? Back home, we had like a community fund..for…”

He shifts to regard you again, lips curling softly.

“For uh. Community projects.” The words are sticking in your throat, your mind fogging. The intensity of the way he listens to you so closely is unnerving. “Like…revivals and stuff.”

“That would be nice.” He replies. “But nobody comes up here anymore. The locals are afraid of it.”

“Afraid?”

“They think it’s haunted.”

“That’s ridiculous. It’s not haunted….is it?”

He stares at you, eyes widening. His lips part, as though to speak, but they smooth into a grin instead, creasing his eyes. Suddenly, he bends and starts to laugh. The sound is infectious, high-pitched and breathless, and you find yourself smiling along.

“Depends on your definition of ‘haunted’, I suppose,” he says finally, giggling. He cocks his head.

“My name is Seokjin.”

“Have you lived here long, Seokjin?”

“Just Jin. Please. I’ve lived here for a long while.” Jin’s gaze goes distant. “A very long while. It hurts my heart to see the place falling apart like this. It’s very important to me.”

 Your teeth worry the inside of your lip in the pause that follows, unsure whether you should say what you’re thinking. You can’t spend too much longer here—you still have to make it to the library and then back home before it gets dark.

“I’m new here, and I’m going someplace at the moment,” you explain, inwardly hoping he’s not secretly a murderer. “But my grandmother got married at this pond. She passed away not too long ago and I’m trying to clean her house out for now. It would mean a lot to me to see the pond clean, too--before I leave. If there was anything I could do to help…” You trail off, embarrassed.

The man watches you carefully, a smile pulling at his lips. As gentle as his voice is, as sweet his eyes, his stature doesn’t escape you. He looks strong.

“I-I, uh,” you begin again, the click in your head nearly audible, “I actually need help with the shed.”

“The shed?” he echoes.

“Yeah, there’s like, heavy stuff in it. I don’t think I can move it on my own. You know, you help me, I help you…? If that’s okay. I understand if not.”

Jin straightens.

“Let’s make a deal,” he says, eyes alight. “I will help you clean your grandmother’s shed if you’ll help me clean the pond. Our deal will be fulfilled when both tasks are done. Sound good?”

“Sounds good…yeah! Sounds good.” You nod.

“Deal?”

“Deal.”

He makes a tsk noise through his teeth, leaning back and curling his hands around the rail in front of him. For a second, you’re afraid you might have bartered with the wrong person, but he looks pleasantly, warmly pleased at your offer.

“Can we start tomorrow?” he asks, voice soft as silk. “Just meet me here?”

“I can do that.” Not like you’ve got somewhere else to go.

“Good. I’m so glad.” The young man in front of you looks like you’ve just added ten years to his lifespan, practically glowing as he grins with perfect teeth. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Jin,” you reply. You turn away and make your way back to the main road. While you slowly return to civilization, your thoughts steadily turn inwards and you realize what you’ve just done. Who are you, making deals with strangers in strange towns?? The only excuse you can offer yourself is that he was so incredibly beautiful. And so sad. He seemed nice enough, though. Legitimately interested in cleaning the pond, if nothing else. You chastise yourself the whole way down to the library. Day two in this town and you probably just agreed to be murdered out in the middle of nowhere because you saw a pretty man. Shameful.

It’s impossible to deny that you want to see him again, though. And cleaning the place where she got married would have meant a lot to your grandmother, if she was here still. If she was watching. She won’t let you get murdered. You hope.

 As you turn the corner, past the intersection you originally turned down, the library rises from the horizon. It’s more welcoming than threatening even with its grand height, old stonework mixed with newer additions to keep the building stable and crawling with picturesque ivy. Absently, you slide your hand over the chipped mane of the stone lion that protects the entrance as you climb the stairs and step inside. It’s cool here, and designed with a touch that seems to meld modern and antique styles seamlessly. It smells like old books and wood polish—old, but well taken care of. Towards the back, twin staircases spiral, reaching for a circular window that casts an impressive amount of patterned light over the upper level. You have to resist the urge to take photos like some gawking tourist, and instead head for the section marked ‘Local’. There doesn’t seem to be anyone else around, the tall room silent as the grave. If anything, the quiet only helps you focus on the task at hand, browsing with a gentle hand through tour guides and maps of the surrounding areas.

There’s no staff, no music, nothing but you.

You’re too easily distracted by your thoughts and you end up getting frustrated by the sheer amount of maps. Comparing them against the version you have on your phone, there are always missing streets or roads that lead to nowhere—sections marked on the maps as incredibly important sightseeing destinations that aren’t even on the electronic version. Finally, you peel away from the local section, holding onto the one map you could find that seemed remotely useful, if still missing a few pieces of information. Just to the right of the doors is a wooden desk and ontop of it, a bell. You stride over and strike it, the peal ringing out clearly against the tall ceiling. At this point, you’re just hoping to catch a glimpse of literally any kind of living soul inside this building.

 “You’re back.”

You nearly jump out of your skin at the deep voice that instantly sounds from behind you.

When you turn around, you meet deep brown eyes set into a handsome face whose mild expression is difficult to read. A young man stands only about a foot away from you, having appeared seemingly out of nowhere with the absolute silence of his approach. Did you somehow miss him on your way in…? Hair dyed a lavender color, pushed back from his forehead, thick-framed glasses, comfortable-looking sweater—if there was ever a look that screamed ‘librarian’ any louder, you’d be hard-pressed to find it.

“I’m…what?”

He watches you past his glasses for a moment before his soft lips pull into a wry smile and his shoulders drop. “Sorry. I-I know it’s probably been a while. I…know your, um, your grandmother,” He gestures, awkwardly. “The house on the hill, right?”

“Oh. Uh, yeah. That’s her,” you finally manage to reply. Damn it, he’s incredibly handsome, too. Should you hand him your credit card now or should you wait until you lose all of your good sense? “Yeah, um. She…y’know, she passed away, so I’m cleaning her house out.”

He blinks, his face falling.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry. That must be…hard for you,” he mumbles, but there’s something new in his expression. Was he close to her…? The ensuing silence between you is mortally uncomfortable.

 “I-I’m looking for a map,” you stammer, holding up your hand. “Y’know, a recent one.”

“…You seem to have found one.” He points out, raising an eyebrow at the paper grasped in your fingers. “Anything more specific?”

“I need hunting goods. My phone says there’s a store just on the other side of the house, but when I tried to cut through the woods, I got lost.”

The man nods, slowly, thoughtfully. He looks to you and there’s a second of silence between you as you subtly try to figure out what exact shade of brown his soft eyes are. Flush travels up your cheeks as you’re struck with the realization that he’s waiting for you to elaborate. Humour suddenly flashes across his face, breaking the quiet, and he laughs sharply, leaning forwards.

“Directions for a hunting store?” he reiterates through a chuckle. “Kind of a weird first request. The map you’ve got there is the most recent we have. Just follow the main road through the forest.” He pauses. “What do you need it for, anyways?”

“There’s something chewing holes in my grandmother’s house.”

“Ah,” his eyebrows slide upwards, legitimately shocked. He waits, seemingly unsure if you’re serious, before continuing. “And you’re thinking…animals…?”

“Yeah. I already tried to set out a trap but it broke. Something put rocks in it.”

He hums. His head cocks to the side and he tsks through his teeth, pursing his lips and studying the ground as he crosses his arms. “An animal didn’t put rocks in it. I’m surprised you don’t know better.”

“What do you mean?”

“When you say ‘chewing holes’,” he asks instead of answering, “What exactly do you mean?”

“There’s a hole in the porch. It was filled with candy when I moved in.”

“And you…?”

You frown. “I…” you repeat slowly. “Took the candy out and filled the hole? I mean, not very well, but—“

“Mm. Yeah, that’ll do it. You need to put the sweets back.”

It’s your turn to wait, for him to admit to joking. He only looks to you and blinks slowly, patiently. There’s another heavy pause. As you stare at him, his shoulders rise in a shrug.

“You’re kidding me.”

“I’m not.”

“You want me to encourage animals boring into the house my dead grandmother lived in?” Your voice escalates as your brows crease, searching his visage for any sign of giving.

“It’s not an animal.”

“Oh my god.” Despair begins sinking in. Your mind swims with the thought of malicious children. “It’s kids. I can’t set traps. Oh, god, what if I accidentally hurt one?...”

He barks another laugh, his eyes scrunching, shoulders shaking.

“What??”

“It’s not children, either,” he says, still giggling.

Your frown only deepens. Is he making fun of you? “I don’t get it. What exactly are you suggesting?”

 His laughter subsides into a short chuckle. When his eyes meet yours again, there’s a strange light in them. “You don’t remember much, do you?”

You pull back, somewhat offended. “I was like five the last time I was here?”

He chuckles and pushes his glasses up further on the bridge of his nose with a dramatic air of a teacher getting ready for his least favorite class. “Okay. Alright. From the top, then. Have you heard of faeries?”

“Like fairy tales? Of course I’ve heard of them.”

“Almost. Okay, so most old towns have their own superstitions, right? We have our own kind of faerie. They’re called Keprys. And that’s what you’re dealing with.”

You stare at him incredulously, but he doesn’t look like he’s kidding. “You can’t be serious.”

“I can,” he retorts. “I bet there was something in the house that was really well taken-care of when you got here. Floors swept, cabinets dusted, something like that?”

You think of the dust-covered rooms. “No, not really.”

“Look for it. Whatever it is won’t be done now. Put the candy back, it’ll start up again. Your grandmother had an accord with a Kepry—sweets in exchange for some chore she couldn’t do or didn’t want to do.” He leans against the bookshelf and raises an eyebrow at you. “When you took the candy, you disrupted the agreement. When you put out the trap, you insulted him.”

“Him?”

He ignores you.

“If you leave it alone, or worse, get another trap, it’ll only go downhill from there. He’ll trash the house. If he’s in a good mood.”

Your eyes narrow, your lips pursing. “If this is some kind of local hazing, I’m not into it. I’m not convinced I’m staying, anyways; you’re wasting your time trying to spook me.”

“I swear, I’m being totally legitimate.” He raises his hands, palms facing outwards. “Put the candy back.”

You hesitate, watching him doubtfully. “Okay, smart guy. We’re in a library, so…show me a source. Where’s your books on capris?”

“Kepry.” He clarifies with a slow intonation. “K-e-p-r-y. There’s only one source.”

“If you say it’s you—“

“—But it’s already checked out.”

“Uh-huh.”

“To me.”

“To you??”

The man’s eyes flash and his grin returns.

“Tell you what,” He straightens. “I’ll loan you the book. But only if you bring me something of value.”

“I don’t have anything with me.”

He shrugs, pouting mockingly. Without a proper reply, he turns around and starts walking away.

“Why don’t you just give me the book? Isn’t this a library? You’re the librarian—it’s your job, isn’t it??” You call after him, incredulous at his sudden lack of manners.

“I answered your question and gave you free advice.” He spins smartly on his heel to disappear behind a bookcase across the way from you. “You’re in my debt, granddaughter of the lady on the hill.” His voice seems to echo after you from every direction. Strange, you wouldn’t consider the library as that acoustic-capable, at least not from where he was standing.

You huff, and go to follow him. “What do you mean debt—“ You pull up short as you round the corner.

He’s not there. There’s no sign of him behind the books. No sound of him anywhere.

“Hey!” You call out. No answer. The library has returned to its stifling silence. If he thinks you’re gonna waste a second playing hide and seek with him, he’s dead wrong. You stomp your foot and turn on a dime to leave, grumbling about librarians and faeries. ‘Keprys’. He had to have been kidding. Faeries aren’t real. Briefly, you think about the bird from the forest but easily shake it out of your head. You were panicking, lost in a foreign town and scared. Jet-lagged still, probably.

A car passes by the outside of the library as you exit and you’re actually surprised enough by its presence to stop and watch it go. It’s only about the second or third car you’ve seen since coming here. It’s going so slowly—the cobbles must be making the driver unsteady. You move to step behind it, your attention already drifting elsewhere, back to the house and the predicament of animals/not animals boring holes into it. Maybe you have some cash you can give him for the book on faeries anyways. Just for curiosity’s sake.

You’re almost home as you’re lost in thought trying to mentally count up how much money you have to give the librarian for the book. You can see the house now, up on its little hill, with the sparse cottages and small streets that surround it. It’s only just now starting to get late, and the threatening sunset casts a warm blush over everything, turns the shadows into a comfortable purple.

Across the street, not too far from where you are, your attention is claimed by a tiny dog. It’s a fluffy little thing, looking like a ball of soot with legs, black and brown all over. The fading sunlight catches its fur and lights embers in its outline, like a spotlight. You have to stifle a giggle at how business-like it seems, trotting along with such delicate little paws. It turns to survey its surroundings and you could mark the moment when it spots you, pausing with its fluff of a tail pointed skywards midway through a wag. Suddenly, it breaks into a run towards you. Head thrown back in excitement, yipping all the way. You start, but it means you no harm as it runs straight up to your legs and yaps loudly, dancing around your feet so intensely that its whole body actually leaves the ground for seconds at a time.

“Hello, hello!” You greet, delighted if a little surprised. It presses its head against your hand when you lean to pet it, barking and yipping. You oblige, running your fingers through incredibly soft fur, and its whole body stills. Its watery eyes blink slowly, as if savoring the touch. “Who do you belong to?”

It yips and bounces again, spinning in a tight circle, and you can’t help but laugh at the pure joy in the motion. You pet it a few more times, giggling at how eager it seems for affection. “Nobody ever loves you, huh?” You coo. “Poor baby.” After a while, you straighten, and it immediately starts barking again, rising in volume as you move to walk towards the house.

“I have to go home!” You chastise, reaching to stroke it again, but its pitiful noises only get louder. “I’ll see you later, puppy. I promise.”

It follows you up the hill, whimpering pathetically as you unlock the gate and walk inside. You look over your shoulder at it and it cries.

“Go home,” you encourage. “I’ll see you later.”

It sits down in front of the gate, looking at you with such a forlorn expression your heart breaks. You hope its okay, but it seems healthy enough; shiny eyes and coat, well-groomed. Eventually, it’ll go home, surely.

You turn back to the house, the garden catching your eye as you go. Looks like it needs some watering—maybe a little weeding here and there. Why haven’t you noticed since you’ve been here? Oh well. You guess there’s been other things more pressing in your mind. Like getting lost and meeting beautiful men. And the stray cat, can’t forget that. Oh, yeah. The sticks. Your hand flies up to the bag around your neck, rubbing at the remaining stick with a shocked realization. You forgot to look up what kind of wood it was. Maybe you’ll remember tomorrow? You can always ask the mysterious librarian or the man by the pond. He might know a thing or two about local plants. Better ask nice, forthcoming Jin about something like that instead of stingy, disappearing librarian man.

Oh.

You blink.

You never actually caught his name.

Your nose wrinkles as you frown, unlocking the front door and stepping inside. He’d probably charge you for that, too.

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[neptunesnxpple]

Adopted by the League Part 7 (Shigaraki x male!reader)

****Minors Do Not Interact****

Summary of the Series: You move to a new country- only to find out the apartment you moved into is the home base of a league you don’t even know about! This is sort of a found family situation where reader takes care the league.

Warnings/Tags for this Part: reader is a man or masc identifying, new years celebrations, alcohol, reader and shigaraki get extremely drunk, kissing, going to bed together

Part 1 ;; Part 2 ;; Part 3 ;; Part 4 ;; Part 5 ;; Part 6 ;; Part 7

        New years eves you were passing out the glasses, mugs, and any other drinking apparatus you had stored away in the kitchen. You really hadn’t planned to have this many people over at any given time, but well, that hadn’t exactly gone according to plan. A month and a half ago you moved to Japan, got a small one bedroom apartment in a lower income area, and started work at a local market before being transferred to their café department. Unfortunately, your apartment wasn’t really that vacant- at least not after the first few days. Then, part of a league moved in. Without anywhere else to go, you didn’t feel all that great about kicking out six or so people even though technically the apartment was in your name. Now you shared the bathroom with a minimum of six other on any given day, kitchen space, living room, at least your bedroom was limited to one other person- the leader of the league, Shigaraki.

        Now you weren’t always the drinking type, usually sparingly if so, a glass here a glass there, but this was new years eve and you had a couple of conversation topics you wanted to get off your chest so to speak. You had already pre-gamed at a bar after work, gotten a drink or two, before heading back home with the left-over pastries- the café was closed on New Years Day and they weren’t a fan of keeping food around past the 24 hour mark. It was only two hours until the count down, you had laid out the pastry spread, Toga and Twice had worked together to pick up a couple of osechi-ryori for the group, Compress, Magne, and Spinner had put up decorations, and Dabi and Shigaraki were in charge of the alcohol, although you had a hard time imagining them working together. Shigaraki had gotten the others to bring the television out of the bedroom and into the living room where you could watch some kind of count down leading to a fireworks display. You hummed anxiously, finger tapping the edge of your glass and foot jittering. Shigaraki made his way over, pushing his hood down and taking your glass, drinking what was left in it, before capping it off again.

           “What’s got you so amped up?”

        “Nothing. Nothing at all. Why do you ask?” you accepted the glass, bringing it to your lips and not even pretending to look his way. You stared blankly at the tv screen,

         “You’re standing out here in the kitchen while everyone else is in the living room, and I’ve seen how many glasses you’ve downed so far. I’m pretty sure your eye keeps twitching, not like I’m looking or anything,” he muttered the second part of that, now fixated on his own mug. You looked over from where you were leaning. He looked soft. The front part of his hair was tied back, and you knew it wasn’t from his own doing. But it looked nice all the same. Seeing that much of his face. The skin around his neck wasn’t as crusted or peeling like it had been. There were still nicks, the excessive scratching and picking a hard habit to break, but it was nice to see some change.

         “I’ve got a lot on my mind,” you answered shortly, careful to not appear curt, “I’m glad you all were able to take off,” you said, changing the subject and watching the slight tense in his shoulders at the mention of work. Now it was his turn to feel uncomfortable. He wrinkled his lips, pressing them together for a moment,

         “Yeah, we had some plans but decided to hold off on them. At least until after the holidays.”

         “I didn’t take you for the celebratory type.”

        “I- We wanted your first New Years in Japan to be with friends. As a thank you, for letting us all stay with you,” he blurted out, rushing through the words.    You could tell the wine was working, his face was flush and he wouldn’t normally be so transparent about these types of these.

         “You don’t have to be so worried about this kind of thing, I would have been fine,” you moved a hand to your cheek, rubbing it as if to make sure this moment was real enough. “Thank you, though.” You let the sound of friends talking and the news caster reporting take over for the time being. Shigaraki had given you a great transition to something you had wanted to bring up. You heart began to beat harder in your chest, swallowing dryly, “there’s something I wanted to talk to you about. Well, a couple of things. I’ve got a lot of things to talk to you about tonight, but I’m not really sure which I want to do first, they’re not exactly… easy to talk about,” you turned fully to face him, both hands on the stem of your glass and nervously tracing it. You glanced up at him briefly, enough to catch the panic on his face. “N-nothing too bad. Well, one of them isn’t that good objectively, but the other is, or could be good,” you rattled on, sensing that this was actually making him more nervy or at least as uncomfortable as you were. You had a feeling you were losing him if you didn’t pick up the pace.

         “I’m, I,” you stuttered, stepping back for a moment to take a deep breath, “I really like all of you, and this past month and a half have been some of the best times of my life already, but, it’s really cramped in here. It’s kind of hard getting ready for work when there’s people sleeping all over the living room, and the bathroom is really tough to figure out. I bring a spare travel case with a tooth brush and tooth paste just in case I can’t get in before work. I don’t want to rush you all out, but I think I could use a bit of personal space from time to time. We could still hang out of course! I wouldn’t mind sleepovers every now and then. Have you had any luck, searching for a new base?” you all but pleaded, tongue feeling thick and heavy. You took a moment between heavy breaths to see how Shigaraki was taking it, worry clear in your brow. The answer was not well. His lips turned up into what could best be called a grimace, taking a half empty bottle of booze and stalking off towards the a particularly dark corner of the room, barking at Spinner to hop off the bean bag chair and flopping in it, loose strands of hair falling in his face. Your hands continued to shake, bringing you to the realization that they were shaking in the first place. You leaned back against the counter, shock and horror filling every muscle and bone in your body. You had just ruined everything. You set your glass down, grabbing the bottle of wine you had been sipping out of and deciding to make the process much quicker. The next thing you knew, a familiar shadow drew near,

         “Rough night?” Dabi asked, pointing to the bottle. Your hand squeezed the neck of it tighter, shrugging,

         “I’m not sharing,” you joked, voice falling flat,

        “Relax, I don’t drink wine. Reminds me of people I’d rather not think about. So, what’d you say to get him so riled up? Did you tell him you’d have to reschedule the wedding? You know he’d prefer something in the fall.”

         “Shut up,” you snorted, smiling and giving him a shove.

        “See? That wasn’t so hard was it? Now you’ve got me in the perfect spot between tipsy and drunk, which means if you want to spill your guts about anything without anyone else knowing, nows your chance,” he offered, picking through the assorted pastries until he came across a chocolate stuffed croissant.

         “I think I said something stupid. Something that messed everything up,” you sighed heavily, that weight being applied directly to your shoulders.

         “I’m sure it couldn’t be that bad.”

        “I asked him when you guys were thinking of moving out,” you forced out, feeling ashamed immediately, “I didn’t even mean it that way, it’s just…”

         “Relax. I know we’re a lot to handle, I mean Spinner just learned to pick up after his sheds not too long ago, there’s no way you should be expected to deal with seven other peoples craziness on top of your own.”

         You perked up a little, setting the bottle back on the countertop.

        “I mean, you didn’t really think it was customary to let strangers live with you while they apartment searched, right?” Dabi said between bites,

         “Well, at first I did,” you admitted sheepishly,

        “Then you’ve got nothing to worry about. Chances are his panties are just in a bunch because he thinks you’re kicking him out. For good.”

You tilted your head in confusion,

         “I sort of am though.”

        “No, I mean like from your life. He pissy because he thinks you’re trying to push him out, and he doesn’t want to admit that he’s taken too long to do anything about it, unless there’s something you’re keeping from us?”

         “Taken to long to do anything?” You paled, nausea coming back to you.

        “Yeah, he’s been trying to make a move since you let us move in here but has been too chicken shit to do anything. It’s embarrassing, really.”

         You looked over past Dabi, seeing a sulking Shigaraki that looked like he was locked in a conversation with Toga, Twice, Spinner, and Magne that he’d prefer not to be in.

        “Alright, advice time over, you don’t have to leave but don’t talk to me,” Dabi shooed you away, making his way down the buffet line. You stuck around in the corner for some time longer, lost in thought as you planned your next move. There was an hour left for midnight, more than enough time for you to work up some courage and practice what you wanted to say.

         Thirty minutes remained. You were back to your glass mode, keeping the liquid confidence going as your body felt warm, light, like you were made of all things sparkly just like the liquid in your hand. You were aware that you were a bit clumsier, bumping into the corner of the couch and taking a second to balance yourself out, slowly, slowly inching your way closer to Shigaraki. The energy had simmered out since an hour and a half ago, almost everyone was trapped in their own conversations. You guest starred in a few on your way over, buying time but also enjoying yourself. You had really grown quite fond of everyone in such a short amount of time. Ten minutes to go and you had only a couple more feet to go, your speed dramatically reduced, both anticipating and dreading the eventual meet up. Shigaraki was still in the bean bag chair, and while you made a point not to check out the situation, you were sure he was just as grumpy as before.  Five minutes left and you arrived, drunk, and feeling absolutely wiggly. You felt like a worm on the string being pulled around, and you wouldn’t lie, you could feel the smile pull on the corners of your lips. You knew something he didn’t know that you knew. You went to sit in the space next to him, miscalculating and ending up partially in his lap, throwing and arm around his shoulder and sipping your drink, kicking your feet a little. This was fun. It pleased you even more when Shigaraki didn’t try to push you off. At least not right away.

         “What are you doing?”

        “Hanging out. What are you doing?” you asked, a knowing grin rising to your face. He raised an eyebrow, eyes fixed to you. You could feel it, his breath was a little more labored, he was just as drunk as you.

        “Hanging out.” He repeated. He adjusted, moving an arm behind you, “I don’t want my drink to spill,” he explained. You looked at the countdown on the screen. Two minutes.

         “I know something you don’t know,” you started, mischevious glint in your eye. You leaned toward Shigaraki, speaking just to him, “Something you don’t know that I know. I found something out.” You whispered, inching closer. Your hand brushed the back of his neck, feeling how warm it was and the sweat that beaded along the jackets’ edge.

         “Oh? And what did you find out?” he lowered his drink, resting his free hand on one of your calves,

        “Something about you. Something fun,” you did the same, setting down the glass and poking his chest with your fingers. You twirled the drawstring of his hoodie. One minute left. You felt his breathing grow ragged, face flushed and not looking away. You watched the timer on the tv.

         “Something fun…” he repeated, trying to coax you along after some time. You nodded, resting your cheek on his shoulder and talking quieter now,

         “Something we have in common,” your eyes, half lidded and having trouble keeping them open, stayed glued to the clock. Sitting down had caused a wave of wooziness to wash over you, enjoying the way the room spun slowly. You felt his arm wrap around tighter, finally it was time. You sat upright, staring with wide, wide eyes as you heard your friends chant along.

Ten

Nine

Eight

Seven

Six

Five

Four

Three

Two

One!

        You turned to Shigaraki, the cheerful shouts of your friends as they celebrated became background noise. You bravely took the leap forward, pressing your lips to Shigarakis’, feeling both of your bodies tense before he tightened his grip even more, both arms around you now and pulling you closer. You both let out a breath sigh of relief, foreheads touching,

         “I found out that you like me. I mean, like like me,” you teased, eyes closed. Eyes closed felt nice. You felt yourself melt into Shigaraki, feeling more like liquid and less like solid mass. Shigaraki adjusted underneath of you, hand rubbing your back and pressing his lips to the top of your head. Your hands kept busy with his hoodie, twirling the draw strings and feeling the soft fabric, “which means you have to carry me to bed,” you joked, doubting that someone as scrawny as him could carry you too far. Or at all.

        “Alright,” Shigaraki slipped on arm under your leg, the other remaining wrapped around your back. He shifted in the overly amenable bean bag chair, pressing his feet firmly pressed to the ground, and putting as much force into standing as possible. He shot up, swaying clumsily with you in his arms. Your eyes snapped open, throwing your arms around his neck and holding on tight. Shigaraki continued to sway until his back was propped up against the wall. He adjusting you more, tossing you up higher on his shoulder for better grip and with a lot of swaying and stumbling from side to side, he got you in your shared bedroom, dropping you on the bed and flopping down on the blanket nest beside you. You rolled on your side to face him, pulling on of the warmer blankets around you and eyes drooping shut. “I thought about what you said.”

         “Hn?” you sleepily responded, shuffling closer to him.

        “I was talking with some of the league, and we agreed we need a bigger apartment. You can have your own room, if you want,” Shigaraki said softly.

         “My own room,” you repeated, smile creeping onto your face, “with you all. In a bigger apartment.” That sounded nice. You’d figure out logistics later, but for now you’d enjoy the idea, the fantasy, of living somewhere spacious enough for all of you.

         You wouldn’t mind sharing a room with Shigaraki, wherever that room might be.