#not the backwards hair part or upside-down 6 though that is just me having a problem with flipping the canvas too much

[captain-astors]

I like to think I've made you proud, just maybe once or twice.

(cropped version under the cut)

[ceciliamarier]

we have some hangings ya know and wally at the bottom not hung looking at us or at least straight ahead. and a gray barnaby taking his head off like a mascot with some creepy looking guyunderneath you can only see his chin and smile and barnaby's eyes are kinda wonky one half close the other 3/4 open him and his fedora? his half colorful circle and half black with thin gold vertical line vest cool

theres julie's old design she looked more like a monster muppet this time i like the design. she and frank are icing a triple layered cake theres a clock i like with big eyes half lided at the top then you notice how where 12, theres a closed eye at 3 theres a half open eye at 6 its fully open and at 9 its 3/4 closed reminds me of moon phases i dont expect everything to mean something like some deep meaning but things can still have meaning and deep personal meaning to me.

i think her hair is part of what makes her her.im not sure what she has in her hand its not a worm but kinda looks like one like that striped puppet one. the cake candles say NEW and the quote at the bottom of the page says What a wonderful Merry Day! in relation to that id say theyre celebrating a new day. thers pink striped wall paper two shades maybe this is julies house

a thing at the top of the fridge thats probably part of the fridge says something with a D and 197somethinng what number looks like a sideways capital M like a backwards or maybe a different looking seven idk. on the clock the the dots between a given eye where number should be are deliciously different very nice when zoomed in also i can notice a crack in the wallpaer julie's very fuzzy hand. there are sprinkles on julies side theres also a picture of someone on the fridge hung upside down with a flower magnet as a digital page it looks brownish like a page out of an old book interesting julie does look straight out of something like that. frank is trying to be consistent with his design and has dressed / is dressing the bottom layer and biggest in an organized way whilst the rest is random julie stuffing candles on the sides of it which is very cartoony.

picture books i never really grew up massively liking them like i do cartoons but this stuff makes me want to idk see this kinda stuff

i had so much to say about the julie and frank one

one image seems like mind convincing or control first the you're going to get rif of it children have seen it and now they know what to do….im wondering

it also says the neighborhood exists! which is the opposite of what i got shadow readign aka me "home doesnt exist"

in the first image theres a figure that is unrecignizable its not poppy but very fuzzy and big and has a lanky neck

the neighborhoods happiest little blue bird flies in with a dance in his heart! It's like he's really here! So we're going to get rid of it for good! We're all going to get rid of it! We're all going to get rid of it! We're all going to get rid of it! We're all going to get rid of it! You're going to get rid of it! You're going to get rid of it! You're

i think of bot ai. maybe i should get rid of it and if everyone did we'd forget about it. i dont see that happening though but who knows

the blue bird has hair like poppy but is blue theres a toy of him with his neck sticking out of like a top decorated with musical notes looks like a toy to me. and a hand reaching for it. i guess its happening gettig rid of blue bird

theres a logo like those smiling face logos except one eye is wonkily looking up to the middle of the forehead kind of the other staring straight they never show those logos looking like that above it says MARLO in a red circles and circled R to the right this page says opposite cards. okay so frank is like a grumpy character and these are just teaching cards. a bit rude that the example is Hello! to blue bird ooh and Goodbye. on franks card not hostilly though

featuring emie dorelaine's playfellows

they both have phones franks is light blue with a frown personalized huh? and happy center face for blue bird whats his name i like his chest feathers sticking out of his shirt kinda like shadow's chest fluff. he got a long beak. music notes on his shirt damn was he gonna be a musical artist neighbor the only medium obviously missing by the neighbors his shirt colorful has diagonal stripes an he's wearing jeans jeans arent that impressive he has birdy arms and humanish hands. so in the story theyre like lets get rid of him but he's also not part of the website sigh

at the bottom it reads copyright @ Dorellaine Inc, 1970, 1971, 1972

clown says blue bird is gone because "whatever my mans Wally wants he gets."

puppet horror #rip to u sonny

was that gonna be his name?

spooky sesame street

It'll have its own page up when i got the time

search >>> having two tags for the same thing is too much

@ partycoffin on tumblr

Jul 13, 2020

[blouisparadise]

We frequently get asked what our members favorite fics are, so for today’s rec list, we asked each member of BLP to choose FIVE favorite fics for this list - no repeats allowed. Please keep in mind that this is not a complete list of our favorites - there are so many amazing BL fics out there that we all have a lot more than this! Still, we hope you enjoy. Happy reading!

1) Take Off Your Business Suit | Explicit | 3082 words

“Yes, let me get another chair.” Louis said, leaning up off of the desk. He stood up but before he could leave the office to get another chair, Harry was grabbing his hand.

The words that came out of Harry’s mouth made Louis’ knees weak and heart beat quicken. “Just sit on my lap.” Harry said. Whatever he said afterwards didn’t make it into Louis’ ears as he was moving quickly over to Harry and placing himself on Harry’s lap.

Louis would take anything Harry wanted to give him; hand touching, lap sitting, all of it. Louis hadn't realized he was holding his breath until it came out in a quiet sigh. “Okay so th-this one will be slightly different right?” He asked as he pointed at the sheet of paper in front of him.

2) Quietly Our Hearts Beat | Explicit | 7539 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

Louis and Harry in the universe of ‘A Quiet Place’.

3) A Love Reaction | Explicit | 9968 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

Louis’s staring up at him, head tilted slightly back, and his blue eyes are glassy, locked with Harry’s in an unblinking and gentle gaze. He looks ready to do whatever Harry says, to please him whatever way.

4) To Love Without Reason | Explicit | 8854 words

“Come on in, soldier,” Louis pats Harry’s chest and walks away, leaving Harry to follow behind.

Harry stands in the living room, looking around at Louis’ dwelling. Family pictures placed high on a shelf, certificates of Louis’ practice, and other trinkets that make Harry entirely too nostalgic.

“I have to warn you,” Louis says as he puts the kettle on, the water droplets from his hair trickling down the golden skin of his back. “The door jams if you lock it so you'll have to leave it ajar.”

Harry acknowledges with a soft hum, too entranced by Louis’ glistening skin to form a coherent reply.

5) No Good Unless It’s Real | Explicit | 17021 words

Louis is a very busy farmer who’s just trying to make it to his next nap and Harry’s the new hot vet that’s determined to infiltrate every area of his life.

6) A Springtime’s Wilt, An Autumn’s Bloom | Explicit | 20593 words

Harry is Louis' personal chauffeur, and although he hides his feelings for his boss behind a wall of rigid professionalism, Louis still manages to squeeze through the cracks.

7) Ready To Fall | Explicit | 21220 words

“Ninety and rising,” Nick says triumphantly, as though making Harry’s heartbeat pick up by thrusting an obscenely attractive person in front of his face is any kind of success. “Louis Tomlinson has just walked into our control room and suddenly our dear Harry Styles has lost all ability to speak. Could this be some kind of strange coincidence?”

“I hate you,” Harry hisses, forcing his eyes back into Nick’s direction, uncaring that the mic must have picked it up. “I thought we agreed that you were going to play fair.”

“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Nick denies, except he’s holding up a picture of Louis’ face now, sharp cheekbones prominent, soft lashes nearly sweeping against his cheeks as he looks down, and his fucking mouth –

“A hundred and two!” Nick crows, all but clapping his hands together in glee. “The highest it’s ever been!”

“To be fair, I did bend over the desk on purpose,” Louis’ voice comes crackling in the headphones. Harry practically breaks his neck whipping his head around at the sound of it, gaping at him through the glass panel. “You can’t really blame him for getting a little excited about that, can you?”

8) Written In The Stars (That’s You And Me) | Explicit | 22632 words

Louis pushes himself up on one elbow and stretches enough to just barely trace his fingertips over Harry’s jawline. Harry’s eyes drop to track his movements as he does it again. “D’you feel that?” he whispers.

To him, it feels like all of the universe’s magic lives just beneath his skin when he touches Harry with intent. It feels like something special. Louis watches Harry’s lips part and wants to touch that too. He almost does, but then Harry shakes his head. “Feel what?”

9) Middle Ground | Explicit | 23561 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

Harry moves to a new town for work where he meets the enigma that is Louis Tomlinson.

10) England Has My Bones | Explicit | 24087 words

The next time Harry thinks about calling, it’s 4.14 in the morning on a Parisian hotel balcony.

11) Like A Siren In The Night | Explicit | 24868 words

“There is an infestation in my home,” Louis hisses, righting himself quickly and pushing his way past Harry, heading directly for the kitchen. He’s rather haphazardly dressed himself, a coat thrown on over a loose flannel shirt and black pants, slippers on his feet.

Harry resists the urge to sigh, closing the door and trailing behind him slowly. “What kind of infestation?”

For all he knows, Louis is going to claim that there’s a ghost infestation. Harry has no idea what the end game is here – all he knows is that Louis has found at least three complaints a week to bring up since he’s been living on Harry’s property, and he’s been living here for six months.

It’s way too many fucking complaints, is what Harry is saying. Especially when most of them are ridiculous to start with.

12) Hold Onto This Heaven (Of Yours) | Explicit | 25213 words

An ode to being too young, too sad, and too in love.

13) The Devil’s In The Details | Explicit | 25372 words

He squeals when Harry smacks his bum as he bends over to pick up his bag, swinging it over his shoulder. Harry smiles smugly at him, bottom lip caught between his teeth. “When are you going to start calling me professor?” He asks.

“When you actually are one,” Louis says with his hand on the doorknob. He cocks his head to the side in curiosity. “Isn’t that how words work? You did study English, right?”

Louis’ quick to slip out the door before Harry can smack him again, his laugh echoing through the hallways as he makes his way to his next class with flushed cheeks and a bright smile.

14) A Trail Of Honey Through It All | Explicit | 27086 words

The boy in front of him, well really, the man in front of him, was like something out of a confusing wet dream. Built, tall, tan and muscular, his skin glistened with sweat after a long day of working outdoors with his hands. He was wearing a cut up old American football shirt, the bottom hem was torn and the sleeves were cut off to the point where the t-shirt was really just a loose tank top. The shorts he had on had clearly been full length jeans at one point, and were now just crudely cut off above the knee. His white socks were pulled up too high on his calves, and the brown work boots he had on were old as fuck, the leather peeling along the edges of the soles. Curly brown hair stuck out from the edges of his backwards snapback, and there was a smudge of grease wiped along his brow bone. The smattering of hair along his jaw proved that he hadn’t shaved in a week or two, the hair growing in thicker across his upper lip and around his chin. His sinfully bowed mouth was pink and plump, and Louis was suddenly hyper-focused on the way that he chewed at the toothpick stuck between his lips. He looked like he needed a shower. Louis wanted to lick him.

15) You Fit In My Poems (Like A Perfect Rhyme) | Explicit | 27598 words

The one where Harry works in an old bookshop and Louis is the pretty stranger that ends up stranded there in the middle of a storm.

16) Where The Lights Are Beautiful | Mature | 31170 words | Sequel

The accidental bonding A/B/O fic.

17) Once Upon A Dream | Explicit | 33319 words | Sequel

Louis is psychic and gets caught in the middle of a murder investigation led by FBI Special Agent Harry Styles.

18) Stuck On You | Explicit | 33983 words

Louis’ life revolves around his stickers. Harry’s life revolves around his job. The universe has decided their worlds should revolve around each other.

19) Coeur De Pirate | Explicit | 34207 words

He tilts his chin up as the Captain strides across the deck, his footfalls falling loudly against the planks. The crew watches them from afar.

Stepping into his space, the Captain wraps an arm around Louis’ waist and pulls him in. He lowers his head to breathe his words against Louis’ cheeks. “I won,” he whispers, “I’ve come to claim my prize.”

20) What This World Is About | Explicit | 34472 words

An eighties American high school AU; there are first times, football games, and feelings.

Alternatively titled: the beginning.

21) Close To Nowhere | Explicit | 34589 words

Louis and Harry are psychics who kind of hate each other. They go to Tennessee to investigate a haunting.

22) Before We Knew | Explicit | 39830 words

Louis has been skeptical of soulmates for years so it seems like fate when he finally bumps into the owner of the obnoxiously large signature printed onto his skin since age sixteen: Harry Styles, a human rights attorney who is firmly against soulmates.

23) The Space Between | Explicit | 39917 words

Harry Styles is the alpha rockstar who can’t sleep and doesn’t know why.

Louis Tomlinson is the omega PhD student who helps him figure it out.

24) The Sweetest Incantation | Explicit | 40580 words

Harry is a witch who's still working on developing his powers and Louis is a werecat who falls into his life and turns it upside down.

25) Worth Dying For | Explicit | 44906 words

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Louis says, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. In the center of the table, a set of three glossy photos stares up at him, mocking him.

“A security detail is non-negotiable, Louis, you know this,” his mum reminds him, tapping the middle photo with two fingers.

Louis doesn’t look back down at the pictures, gesturing towards them wildly, over-dramatically. “This is not a security detail!” he protests. “This is a lanky college student. In what world do you hire someone like this kid to protect me?”

26) Tastes Like Summer, Smiles Like May | Explicit | 47519 words

A cold prince, an alpha with nothing left to lose and a kingdom with a secret.

27) Love’s Truest Language | Explicit | 48195 words

The first part was meant as a joke. He didn't really expect Harry to buy anything. It was just Louis’ way of softening the ‘get the fuck out’ blow.

“Where's your order forms, then?”

“I don't want your flowers.” Louis chided before directing all of his attention to the arrangement in front of him.

Harry laughed under his breath as he stood to his full height, “Who said anything about them being for you, love?”

28) Through The Wheatfields And The Coastlines | Explicit | 52855 words

The one where Louis needs inspiration, and a certain cowboy and his lamb are the perfect distraction.

29) Latibule | Mature | 54322 words

A Spirited Away AU of sorts where Louis just wants to heal and be left alone, only for all his plans to be destroyed by the hands of an infuriating British God.

30) Warming Up To You | Explicit | 56227 words

Prompt 111: Louis and Harry are strangers that somehow got stranded during a blizzard. They find themselves in an abandoned cabin and have to cuddle for warmth. Cuddling leads to much more.

31) Feeling Borrowed, Always Blue | Explicit | 68214 words

Louis has been dreaming of his wedding since he was young - he just never expected it to happen like this.

32) Curly Bun Man | Not Rated | 68597 words

I just paid for these Doritos but they're stuck in the vending machine and I know you've been waiting but I am not going to let you buy something until you help me. AU.

33) Waiting On You | Explicit | 76584 words | Sequel

“Vampires,” Louis says with disgust, glaring over at the vampire who is noisily slurping from the woman’s neck nearby.

Zayn gives the neat fang marks on Louis’ neck a meaningful look.

“Can’t live with them, can’t live without them,” Louis finishes, ignoring Zayn when he rolls his eyes.

Louis takes a long sip of his milkshake, presses his fingers against the marks on his neck, and definitely doesn’t think about the vampire who left them there.

34) Through Struggles, To The Stars | Explicit | 80582 words

Louis is a Starfleet captain trying to find his place in the universe. Harry is a prince just trying to do what's right.

35) I Want You So Much (But I Hate Your Guts) | Mature | 83648 words

AU in which Louis gets accepted to play for the Manchester University Alpha-Beta Football Team. The only problem: Louis is actually an Omega. He is determined to make it big in the football world, though, and he can't do that bound to an Omega team. With the help of a faked doctor's certificate and some pretty strong suppressants he is ready to fight for his dream.

That Harry Styles (Alpha, second year and youngest football captain of the A-B team in ages) doesn't seem to like him complicates matters, though.

36) Where You Lay | Explicit | 86038 words

When Louis's upcoming heat threatens his success at his new dream job, he asks the best (and only) person he can think of to help him through it: his best mates' best mate, Harry Styles.  Harry reluctantly accepts, and together the two navigate a strange friends with benefits relationship that quickly turns complicated.

37) And Down The Long And Silent Street | Mature | 86090 words

Wherein Louis and Harry are on the opposite ends of the social ladder, but their paths still cross on the filthy streets Louis calls his home. The odds are staked against them from the beginning, and even more when Louis' past finally catches up with him.

38) Swim In The Smoke | Explicit | 101778 words

“What about this, Captain?” Liam asks, nudging the boy kneeling between their feet with the toe of his boot. The boy hisses and swipes at him, slurring out something unintelligible around the makeshift gag Niall had to stuff in his mouth. He misses by a mile and tries again, just as ineffectively.

Harry looks down at him, at the way the sun streams over his face and shoulders, at the way the gag stretches his mouth, lips pink and chapped. He’s lithe and pretty, smudged all over with dirt. They had found him tied up below deck, mostly unconscious, next to a barrel full of gold. He’s clearly a prisoner, but there’s something familiar about him, something that niggles at Harry’s brain. Something he can’t quite put his finger on.

“Put him in my cabin,” Harry decides, turning back to deal with the rest of the loot. The boys screams out jumbled curse words at Harry’s back, muffled by the gag, and Harry can’t understand any of it.

39) The Galaxy’s Edge | Explicit | 113921 words

Things never quite go as they are planned during a simple rescue job.

40) Tainted Saints And Velvet Vices | Explicit | 126057 words | Sequel (WIP)

A self-fulfilling Hogwarts AU in which Louis is new to seventh year and Harry is the resident devil-may-care Slytherin set to make his entire experience a living misery. Due to less than favourable circumstances they're forced to forge an unwilling, tentative relationship for their own survival. Repressed emotions, decidedly unromantic ballroom dancing, Triwizard Tournament tasks, creative jinxes and twilight flying above the Forbidden Forest ensue.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

[scuttling]

Something Stupid

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairing: Aaron Hotchner/Latina Original Female Character Word Count: 25,159 Chapters: 6 of 6 Complete Tags: 18+, NSFW, Dad Hotch, Fluff and smut, Light angst, Unprotected sex, Oral sex, Getting together, Minor background Garcia/Prentiss

Summary: All it takes to turn Sophie Cortes's life upside down is getting bashed over the head with a fire extinguisher. And sleeping with her boss. Note: This is a reformatted, previously published work. :)

Link to A03 or read Chapter 1 below!

All it takes to turn Sophie Cortes's life upside down is getting bashed over the head with a fire extinguisher. And sleeping with her boss.

There had been a case, of course—there’s always a case—and the victims were all Latina runners in their early 30s, abducted from a local park, so they took the very specific victim profile as an opportunity to use her as bait. It was all pretty straightforward, except the unsub escalated, upgraded from using the ‘lost dog’ trick to try to lure her to his car to just straight up knocking her unconscious from behind, and Hotch and the team were too late to grab her before the unsub loaded her into the trunk of his car to take her to his disgusting torture den. Thankfully, they caught him before he got her out of the park.

She was fine in the end, just some swelling and tenderness where he’d brained her with the fire extinguisher he kept in his car, and though it was kind of scary to hear it all retold by Spencer and JJ on the flight home, she knows her team did everything they could to get to her, and that they were ultimately successful, and that’s really all that mattered.

At least, it was, until Hotch showed up at her door that night.

“Hey, Hotch, what—what’s up? Is everything okay?” she asks, confused, because he’s… he’s rumpled, no jacket, tie loose, hair a mess like he’s been running his hands through it, and—when she gets close enough to smell him—he reeks of alcohol. She’s never seen him like this, ever, in the last two years she’s worked under him.

He looks down at her, and his eyes aren’t glassy, at least; they’re as dark and serious as ever, staring into hers like he’s seeing every shadowy secret she keeps locked away beneath her delightfully sarcastic exterior. It makes her feel hot—not sexy hot, but exposed, self-conscious, unsettled: the mortifying ordeal of being known. She’s about to ask him what the fuck is going on when he surges forward to kiss her, and she wraps her arms around him, kisses him too, stumbling backward into her apartment until her body bumps against the kitchen island and shocks her back to reality.

“Are you out of your mind?” she asks, shoving lightly at his shoulders so he’ll give her some room to breathe. His chest is heaving, and so is hers, and he reaches up a careful hand, brushes it over the bump on the back of her head from the incident earlier that day.

“Do you have any idea what I would have done if we couldn’t get to you in time?” His voice is low, a little raspy, and she swallows hard, looks up at his gentle face. The Hotch who just kissed her isn’t a man she knows, and this version of him isn’t someone she recognizes, either. He has always behaved toward her the way she behaves toward her brother’s wife’s family at the holidays: like she’s a person who just happens to be there, and he’ll be cordial, and respond when spoken to, but he’ll breathe a little easier when she’s gone.

It used to hurt. It doesn’t anymore.

“Um, I don’t know. The same thing you’d do for anyone: look for witnesses, pull security footage of the park entrances, put an APB out on the car—” He laughs, something humorless, and shakes his head like she’s being dense.

“That’s not what I mean. I mean, do you have any idea what I,” he takes her hand and presses it to his chest, over his heart, covers it with his, “would have done if we couldn’t get to you in time?”

“You don’t really give me the time of day any other time, so what makes you think I’d expect anything from you?” she asks, and she knows it’s a little harsh, but she can’t take it back now. “You are my boss, Hotch. You’re not my friend, you’re not… you’re not anything to me.”

“But that’s not exactly true, is it?” He doesn’t even bristle at her tone, her words, just continues to stand in front of her, looking soft. She kind of wants to hate him for it. “The reason I don’t give you the time of day, as you said, is because we’re something to each other. You know it, I know it.” He brushes his thumb over her cheek, tender and affectionate. “I feel it every time I’m close to you, and I know you feel it too. And we’ve both pushed each other away because we know it can’t happen.”

She wets her lips, because this is actually the mortifying ordeal of being known: he’s absolutely right, she has wanted him for almost two years, can’t stop her eyes from sweeping over his tall, strong body when he straps on his bulletproof vest, can’t stop imagining his hands on her when he pushes up his sleeves if they take a case in a humid Southern state. She looks at him and thinks of his mouth on her throat, her legs wrapped around his waist, his thick thighs supporting her while she moves in his lap until they both give in to the pleasure and collapse against each other, panting, gasping, wishing they had the stamina for more.

But like he said, it can’t happen, and if that’s the reason he’s been keeping his distance? She really can’t be angry about that, because she’s been doing the same thing.

“You can’t do this. You can’t just come here—drunk, by the way—and kiss me, and act like you like me, like you care, just because I got hurt. You can’t, Hotch.”

“Why not? Because you truly don’t want me to? Because if that’s the case, I’ll leave. We can pretend this never happened, if that’s what you truly want.” He looks solemn, now, and she knows that he would drop it if she asked him to. “But if it’s just because you’re afraid of what will happen if we give in… I’ve been there, Sophie. I’ve reminded myself of the consequences of this every single for... longer than I'd like to admit. But seeing you hurt today… I would never forgive myself if I didn’t at least try to show you how much you mean to me, how devastated I would be if anything happened to you. That’s all I want to show you.” He presses his hands to her face again, softly, leans in just a little. “Can I show you?”

She should tell him no. She should push him away again, call him a cab, send him home, and request a transfer in the morning. It might hurt now, but it would all be for the best in the end.

But Sophie has never really been known for doing things with her own best interest in mind.

She bridges the distance, kisses him deeply, hands sliding up his back to pull him closer for more. He lifts her up onto the kitchen island, stands between her knees, and she slips her fingers into his already fucked up hair, legs wrapping around his waist. His lips move to her throat, and she tips her head back, sighs at the feel of his hot mouth against her skin; when he pulls back, she tugs her t-shirt over her head, and he kisses down her collarbone, brushes his lips over her breast, her peaked nipple, so that she tightens her fingers in his hair.

“Sophie,” he sighs, looking up at her with those deep, dark eyes, and she reaches down to get his pants open, to untuck his shirt. If he’s so desperate to show her how he feels tonight, to show her emotion this once, maybe she’ll make it quick and dirty and then call him that cab and go to bed feeling awful about herself. Maybe she’ll request the transfer anyway.

Except… that’s not what she wants. She doesn’t want quick and dirty, she doesn’t want one and done. She wants him, wants to get to look at him every day without feeling guilty, wants to see more of the tender side of him he’s displayed tonight. She wants to wake up with him, go to bed with him, and everything in between.

She brings his mouth to hers for a soft, slow, passionate kiss, and then she pulls off his tie, his shirt, his undershirt. He helps with the rest of their clothes, and she takes his hand, guides him toward her bedroom, where there’s nothing left between them: no clothing, no hesitancy, no consequences. At least for tonight.

They kiss so much her lips feel bruised, and his hands caress every inch of her body like he’s drafting a map and needs to familiarize himself with the terrain: the curve of her calf, the slope of her breasts, the contours of her waist, the depth of her aching pussy. He dips his fingers inside her, praises her wetness, then bends to taste it, lifts her hips and devours her until she comes shaking and moaning his name.

Then he presses into her, thick and solid, but that’s not the best part; no, it’s when he rolls his hips up, sinking so deeply, so completely inside of her that she can’t even tell where she ends and he begins. She grips his back, rocks to meet each slow, thorough thrust, her body sliding further and further up the bed while he lays claim to her, his teeth sinking into her throat like it’s a soft, ripe peach and not overheated flesh and tendon. It hurts, and it feels so good.

“Oh, god,” she breathes, because she’s never had a man take her apart so thoroughly; but that’s it, isn’t it? He is a man, without performative six-pack abs the guys her age spend their days in the gym trying to achieve, in their place a strong core capable of pinning her to the bed, powerful thighs hard and unyielding against hers as he works desperately to fill her with his come. His arms support his weight, provide leverage, and she turns her head to mouth at his forearm as it flexes, as his fingers dig into the sheets because he feels exactly as much pleasure as she does, she just knows it. “Yes, Aaron.”

A thin film of sweat forms on his back, and her hands slip, so she sinks fingers in his hair, clutches his shoulder, pants and gasps into his mouth until he climaxes inside her, his hips pistoning faster for a moment before slowing altogether. He brushes the pads of his fingers over her lips, and she swipes her tongue over them just to taste him, and then he slides them down to glide over her swollen clit. “Come for me,” he murmurs in her ear, rubbing and grinding inside her as he softens, and she whimpers, hips stuttering against him, her second orgasm even stronger than the first.

They kiss more, smoothing their hands over each other, pressing noses and lips to foreheads, cheeks; Sophie feels so many emotions fighting for dominance it makes her head ache—and then she remembers the injury on her scalp that’s still fresh, and it makes her head ache worse.

Aaron can probably see it on her face, because he leans up, carefully turns her head to the side, and presses down on the area surrounding the bump. She closes her eyes; it feels so good she almost wants to purr.

“Did you pick up that prescription?” he asks softly as he massages her head, and her eyelids flutter open at the sound of his voice.

“Yeah, it’s in the bathroom,” she murmurs, gesturing to the master bath, and he makes a soft noise of understanding, climbs off the bed; he returns with a warm, wet cloth, a pain pill, and a glass of water, all of which she accepts gratefully.

“I should probably stay here tonight—to make sure you don’t have a concussion,” he adds when her eyebrows shoot up her forehead, making her wince. “If you want me to.” They both know she’s already been cleared by a doctor, and it’s not that she doesn’t want him to—unfortunately, she wants it more than anything—but she doesn’t feel up to arguing about her particular brand of commitment issues right now, so she just nods softly.

“Please, stay.” She threads her fingers through his hair, and guides him down for another kiss, and when her headache goes away she sinks into sleep with his arm wrapped around her waist and his nose buried in her hair. Sophie wakes up the next morning, makes coffee, a smoothie—Aaron’s dead to the world, because he doesn’t even stir when she pulses coconut milk and mango and greens in her Vitamix a little bit longer than necessary. She stalks into her bedroom, leans toward him on the bed, shakes his shoulder. “Aaron. You need to go.”

“What?” he grumbles, lifting his face off the pillow to seek her out; he has some serious bedhead, and a crease on his cheek from the pillowcase, and he’s still the most gorgeous man she’s ever seen in her life. It’s completely unfair.

“It’s 7:00—I’m going running, and you need to go home and get showered and dressed before work. There’s coffee made, your clothes are hanging in the closet over there. You can lock up behind you when you go.” She makes to head for the door, but he turns onto his back and reaches for her, taking her arm and pulling her closer.

“Don’t do that, please.” His voice is rough with sleep, but he’s awake now, looking like he’s ready to further complicate her life. The worst part is that she’ll probably let him. “Don’t treat me like a one night stand you’re never going to see again.” She sighs.

“I’m not. I’m treating you like my hungover unit chief who is bare-ass naked in my bed and who’s going to be late to work if he doesn’t get moving.” She tries for stern, but the corners of her mouth twitch up against her will. “So get moving.”

“Give me five minutes,” he says, and he brushes his hand over her cheek like she’s something precious. “I’ll walk you out.” She agrees, doesn’t see the harm—she likes knowing for herself that the place is locked up, anyway, so it makes sense.

He dresses quickly, and she drinks her smoothie, fills a travel mug with coffee for him, with two sugars, the way he likes it. When they step out into the hallway, he tries to kiss her goodbye, but she turns her face to take it on the cheek instead, making him sigh. He heads downstairs to his car, and she locks the deadbolts, looking up when a flash of hot pink catches her eye.

It’s her neighbor, Jazmine. She’s tall, leanly muscled, with chestnut colored skin—boisterous, flashy, the up-all-night-partying type, so she’s probably just getting in—and she raises an eyebrow in Sophie’s direction.

“He’s cute.”

“He’s my boss,” she explains quickly. “I got hurt at work yesterday and he stayed over to make sure I didn’t have a concussion.” Jazmine nods, looking like she 100% does not believe her.

“Uh huh. You don’t have to explain yourself to me, girl. I’m just glad your dry spell is over; these walls are thin, so I know the only relationship you’ve been having is with your vibrator.” Sophie’s cheeks heat, and she fights to get the key out of the deadbolt so she can get herself the fuck out of this awkward conversation.

“That’s not true; I have two vibrators,” she mumbles, and Jazmine laughs, ducks inside her apartment. The key finally comes loose, and Sophie tucks it into the zippered pocket of her leggings and prepares to try—and fail—to run off her frustrations.

Then comes work.

“What are you doing here, Cortes?” Prentiss asks when she walks into the bullpen. “Head injury usually means you get a day or two off—or are you just that obsessed with this place?” Sophie blows out a long breath, sets her stuff on her desk, then shoots her a kind smile. It’s not her fault she royally screwed up her life last night, so she can’t take it out on her.

“Oh, you know me: all work and no play.”

“Better than all play and no work, I guess,” she replies, grinning, “even if it is more fun.”

“Yeah, but play gets you into trouble; at least it gets me into trouble,” she grumbles, taking a seat at her desk. All she can hope for at this point is a quiet, easy day of consults and maybe a drink at the bar around the corner on her way home from work. “Dinner and a bonfire at my place tonight,” Rossi greets when they enter the briefing room. Sophie’s first instinct is to groan, because that means finding a way to avoid Aaron for an additional four plus hours, but she grins instead because her need for Rossi’s cooking and a night of relaxation outweighs the tension.

“Are we breaking in your woodfired pizza oven? If so, just pop open some vino and I’m there,” she teases, and he smiles in response.

“I can do pizza, and I have a very expensive bottle of Brunello with your name on it—since you were almost kidnapped yesterday, and all.”

“She was kidnapped,” Aaron says when he walks in, looking serious. “We just got her back before she left the park, that’s all.” The room goes quiet, because everyone can tell he’s in a mood—but thankfully, Morgan doesn’t really concern himself with other people’s moods, and he chuckles.

“Ah, he would have given her back after five minutes anyway. We love you, but you’re an acquired personality,” he tells her, and she reaches across the table and punches him in the arm.

“Shut up, I’m delightful.”

“If you two are done,” Aaron says with a no-nonsense expression that makes her want to get smart with him just on principle, “we can go ahead and get started.”

Everyone is filing out of the room after, with their assignments for the day, when he asks her to stay back; Spencer glances at her, like he’s making sure she’s okay, and she nods, waves him off.

“Is something wrong, sir?” she asks, like a bit of a smart ass—residual bitchiness from earlier, she knows—and he exhales deeply.

“I just want to talk to you for a minute, since you were practically shoving me out the door this morning.” She crosses her arms, tilts her head.

“Would you have preferred I go about my business and let you be late to work?”

“I would have preferred that we have a conversation about last night like the adults we are,” he counters, and she feels like a properly chastened asshole. She leans her butt on the table, looks up at him with soft eyes; this is more emotion than she’s prepared for so early in the day, but it’s clearly unavoidable.

“Alright. You’re right. Do you want me to start?” He nods, and she blows out a breath. “You surprised me, coming over the way you did. My guard was down, and hearing you say all those things—it was like you were poking at all of my bruises, things I’m still trying to heal from. Wanting you the way I have, and feeling completely overlooked by you… it used to really hurt me. I took it very personally, and my hackles are always kind of raised when you’re around, for that reason. If I seem a little abrasive, that’s why.”

He nods, like it makes sense to him. Like it explains a lot.

“I get that. I didn’t handle my feelings for you the right way at all, and I know that now, and I’m sorry. And I realize that showing up at your apartment unannounced, after I’d been drinking, was the stupidest way I could have possibly gone about trying to explain my feelings to you, but everything I said was true. And when we…” He wets his lips, swallows hard. “When we made love, I knew it was the right thing. I knew pushing you away was a mistake, and I’ll find a way to make that up to you, to make up for lost time, I promise.”

“I’m not sure what I want out of this,” she says honestly; she hasn’t even had twenty-four hours to sit with the fact that he wants her, and her head is still spinning. “I’m not—I don’t do well in relationships.”

“Maybe in the past, but it’s possible you just didn’t have a partner who was willing to meet you halfway.” It’s clear he wants to get closer to her, touch her, maybe even kiss her, but they’re too exposed in the briefing room, blinds open; he lets his eyes do the touching, sweeps them gently over her face. “I’ll always listen to what you have to say, value you. I’ll meet you halfway and then some. I won’t abandon you again.”

“I’m not the kind of person who can make a commitment on the spot like this. I need some time,” she says gently, hopes he sees it for what it is, not an excuse or a brush off. Despite the messy way this all came about, she really does want him, care for him. “Can you give me some time?”

“Of course; all the time you need,” he promises, and she nods, stands fully. “Is there anything else you want to say, while we’re here?” His expression is neutral, and she’s glad he’s not leading… If he expects something more from her, it’s nothing she’s ready to give.

“No, I’ll just take that time. Thank you for understanding.” She carefully brushes her fingers over his hand before walking out the door.

She goes home after work to change her clothes, slipping into a light, summery sundress, and then she heads to Rossi’s, steeling herself before she gets out of the car.

The bonfire is already crackling when she walks through the back gate, and she’s greeted warmly by her friends, promptly handed a glass of wine, and asked what toppings she would like to put on her pizza. It’s the makings for a great evening, she has to admit.

They eat, and drink—Sophie doesn’t drink quite as much as she normally would, because her head’s still throbbing a little—and they sit around the fire cracking jokes, and then someone turns on some music, and people start to dance.

Sophie has always loved ballroom dancing: the class, the grace, the drama, the romance. Her aunt owned a studio for most of her childhood, and when things were hard at home, it was the perfect place to go to escape from the world, if just for a little while. Sophie even teaches some classes at a local studio occasionally, just for the fun of it.

She hangs back, watching JJ and Morgan, Prentiss and Garcia sway back and forth, smiling, laughing, and then Rossi asks her if she’d like to dance, and she does.

They may not always see eye to eye, but he’s got good taste in food, wine, and music, she has to give him that.

After Rossi, she heads over to Spencer, tugs him to his feet, and he lets her lead him around the makeshift dance floor for longer than she’d expected.

“May I cut in?” Aaron asks over Spencer’s shoulder; Spencer looks at Sophie, who just nods, tries not to sound wary when she answers.

“Sure.” He leaves them with a brief smile, and Aaron slips an arm around her waist, takes her hand, pulls her close to his body—maybe a little bit too close. She rests her other hand on his shoulder, tries not to think of the pink half-moon impressions that must still be lingering there from where she’d gripped him tight, nails pressing in, while he went down on her. She follows his lead. “What are you doing?”

“You danced with Rossi, Reid; I’m not allowed to dance with you?” She glances around, sees Prentiss and JJ by the fire, Morgan and Rossi by the food, Spencer and Garcia pouring wine—she’s surprised no one notices how closely they’re dancing, talking. She feels hyper aware of it herself.

“It probably looks highly suspicious,” she says anyway, “since it’s never happened before, but if you’re not worried, I’m not worried.” He looks around too, and it’s clear: he’s not worried.

“Good. Maybe we can enjoy this, then.” He moves his hand further down her back, presses her a bit closer, and she sighs, lets him. It feels good to be in his arms, but she wonders what it says, that she missed them after only a few hours. She’d spent two years building up a tolerance to him only to have her resolve come crashing down after one night of extremely sensual, passionate sex. So much for the power of will.

“I am enjoying this. More than I should be, I think,” she answers honestly, and god, what an understatement. Nothing about this should feel so good, so right, but he’s handsome in the flickering, golden light of the bonfire, softer in more casual clothes, his voice low in her ear, the smell of his cologne heady as always; he is a feast for all of her senses—except taste, but that can very much be arranged.

“So let me take you on a date. We can do more dancing, or just have dinner, see a show. Anything you want.” She looks up at him, frowns, and he sighs deeply. “I know you said you needed time to figure out if you want to make a commitment. I’m not asking for a commitment; I’m just asking for a chance.”

“You said yourself, our actions have consequences. Sleeping with you is one thing,” she whispers, “but dating is another, and I’m just not sure it’s the right thing to do, for either of us.” Sleeping together is casual, a series of circumstances that lead to something more; dating is purposeful, meaningful. There are disclosures. Intentions. Things are made concrete. She’s not so sure about concrete.

Aaron looks hurt.

“Last night was more than just sleeping with me, Sophie. That was…” He closes his eyes tightly, like he can’t find the words, and she gets it, because neither can she. She’s only oversimplifying it for the sake of making it easier to say no to him, because no is the last thing she actually wants.

“Okay, yeah. You’re right. It was something special,” she admits, squeezing his hand. “But I can’t afford to put my career in jeopardy right now, and neither can you.”

“Who says we have to? I can talk to Strauss—” She takes a half step back, looks up at him seriously.

“Okay, see, this is all moving a little too quickly for me. I’m not even sure I’m ready to be in a relationship, let alone one that’s under as much scrutiny as we’ll be if you talk to Strauss.”

“It’s been almost two years in the making, if you ask me,” he says lightly, but his jaw is tense.

“That’s not fair, because I’ve spent all this time holding back, trying not to feel things for you—and you hurt me. Imagine being new and hearing about how tightly-knit your team is and then getting practically ignored by your boss, even when you were struggling.” She tries not to think back on the toughest cases, how unhealthy her coping mechanisms were, how badly she could have used his firm but kind voice telling her she was okay, not a fuck up, not alone.

“When were you struggling?” he asks seriously, looking concerned, and she huffs an unkind laugh.

“You were trying so hard not to look at me that you didn’t even see me, Aaron. That’s not healthy, I don’t—I don’t deserve that.” She drops her hand from his shoulder, gently pulls the other free. He lets her. “I’ve had enough fun for one night. I think I’m going to head home.”

“Sophie, I’m sorry. Please,” he says softly, and at least he’s trying not to draw any attention to them. It’s the last thing she needs right now. “You’re right. I know messed things up, but I want to change that, if you’ll let me.” She looks into his eyes, and they’re earnest, sincere; she wants to let him, so badly.

“Not tonight,” she says instead. “Can you just let me think about this a little, please?”

“Yes. No more pressure, I promise.” He looks back at the path leading to the gate, the driveway. “Can I walk you to your car?”

She agrees, says goodbye to everyone, thank you to Rossi; no one seems to find it unusual that Aaron walks her out to her car. He stops beside her door, lifts a hand to brush her hair softly back from her face.

“Goodnight,” he murmurs, and he leans in to kiss her temple, something brief and sweet. “We’ll talk soon?” She inhales deeply, breathes him in, nods.

“We’ll talk soon. Goodnight.”

Finding a way to fall asleep in her empty king size bed has never been so impossible.

Taglist ❤️: @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal

[actress4him]

In Irons 2 - The Dark Storm

(Prompt #6 for Summer of Whump)

Let me know if you’d like to be on the taglist!

Taglist: @a-series-of-whumpy-events , @darthsutrich

Previous | Next

Warnings: lady whumpee with male whumpers, brief (unrealized) fear of noncon, capture, mild blood, forced labor

.

.

The smell of the ocean and the sun on her face is exactly like she had always imagined it. Adelaide leans onto the rail of the deck of The Golden Rose and breathes it all in, a smile playing on her lips.

She’d purchased passage on the ship using part of her own dowry. It seemed appropriate. The dowry came with her, after all, so why not leave with her? She didn’t take all of it, of course. Some of it had already been spent, and some she left as consolation for Charles.

Now they’re three days into a week long journey that will take her down the coast to a new port, hopefully far enough away that no one she knows will ever find her. She’ll start her life over there. It’s an intimidating thought, living as a single woman with no parents, but it will be far better than married life had been. It has to be.

Suddenly the ship bursts into a flurry of sound and activity. Adelaide whirls around, watching as the captain barks out orders and rushes to take the wheel for himself. Sailors practically fly around the ship, untying ropes and letting out sails and scurrying up and down stairs.

She looks out to sea again, searching the water for any sign of what’s happening. There’s nothing but choppy, deep blue as far as the eye can see.

The captain shouts another order and Adelaide darts across the deck, unable to fully appreciate her newfound range of motion past the pounding of her heart in her chest. Practically slamming into the rail, she grips it with both hands until her knuckles turn white, staring back behind them.

There’s a ship there. A large ship, easily twice the size of The Golden Rose, with a hull and sails that haven’t seen nearly as much care and attention. A black flag flies from the mast, its crest hard to make out in the harsh wind.

And it’s gaining on them, fast.

“Captain! What is that ship?” She barely remembers to drop her voice into a deeper register. But no one is paying her any mind, anyway, and her question goes unanswered.

A horrible scraping sound fills the air, and Adelaide is nearly knocked off her feet by the jolt that shakes the deck. Did they just...run into us? The expressions on the faces of the sailors are growing more frantic, sending her heart racing even faster.

Then the ship is pulling up beside them, huge and looming above her head, still bumping up against the side as it goes, and she stumbles backwards away from the railing. Just in time, too, because people are beginning to swing down onto The Rose’s deck, and they have weapons.

Adelaide scrambles further away until her back hits the railing on the other side, eyes wide as she stares at first the rough-looking men landing one by one, then the flag whose crest she can finally see.

It’s a skull over crossed swords.

Pirates.

They spread out quickly, some disappearing below deck to do who knows what while others immediately set upon the sailors. The men are strong, but they’re not fighters, not like the pirates. Thankfully there’s no bloodshed, but it’s not long before each sailor is either knocked down or pinned.

And another pirate is headed straight for her.

Part of her wants to cower, but she steels herself, clenches her fists, and stares him down. No fear. She can’t show fear. Fear is to these men like blood to a shark.

A hand hooks into her cravat and yanks her forward, and she tries her best not to flinch. He’s dirty, beard unkempt, missing teeth as he sneers at her. Everything she would expect a pirate to be.

“You look young and fit enough.” He looks her up and down as if to confirm it, and her skin crawls. For a moment she forgets she’s not a girl, and suddenly it’s Charles hovering over her again, and her heart lodges somewhere in her throat.

“‘Ey Marshall! You wanna keep this one? He looks like a good enough worker.”

He. Worker. Her throat feels slightly less constricted at the realization, but she still doesn’t want to be kept. Her eyes dart up to the dark-haired pirate that hangs over the rail of the upper deck.

“Sure. Take him back.”

Suddenly she’s being dragged by the neck across the ship, toward the pirate ship. “No, no, I don’t -” She doesn’t even know what she’s trying to say, or why she thinks it might do any good, but there’s no chance to complete the thought before the man wraps a strong arm around her waist and they’re being ripped upward, feet leaving the deck without warning. A yelp escapes her involuntarily, and it’s far from masculine. The pirate only guffaws at her.

Once they’ve safely landed on the second ship and the rope they were hanging from is put away, she’s mostly ignored for the next several minutes. She even wonders if she could make an escape, but there are so many men everywhere. Crates are being tossed from hand to hand, barrels rolled up planks from one ship to the other. The Golden Rose is being swiftly stripped of all the goods that she was carrying.

Three more men are brought onboard, members of The Rose’s crew. It seems in addition to taking her cargo, they plan to leave the ship with hardly enough men to sail it. The only other passengers besides Adelaide are an older man and his wife, and thankfully, they seem to have been left alone.

As the last of the crates is loaded on and the pirates unmoor from the cargo ship, moving much too quickly away from safety and freedom, Adelaide and the three sailors are lined up side by side. A man with a black and grey beard who - based on the relative finery of his burgundy coat - must be the captain approaches, looking them over one by one.

“Welcome aboard The Dark Storm,” he sneers. “The name’s Payne, but you lot can call me Captain.”

One of the sailors, a young man who can’t be much older than Adelaide, raises his voice. “What makes you think that we’ll work for the likes of you?”

In a flash, the gold-tipped cane in Captain Payne’s hand flies up and slams into the side of the sailor’s head. Adelaide gasps, hand flying to her mouth. The sailor is sent sprawling onto the deck, a bright red stream of blood trickling down onto its surface.

“Anyone else have any...objections?” The Captain smiles, gold teeth flashing in the sun. “No? Good.” Turning, he beckons with the cane to the same dark-haired man that she had seen earlier. “Marshall, get this man a bucket so that he can clean up his mess before it stains the wood.”

Moving on to the other two men, he asks their names and gives them an approving grunt, before finally coming to her. “And what is this?”

It isn’t the same way that he asked for names before, but she answers, anyway, too frightened not to. “Gray, sir. John Gray.”

His upper lip curls. “And whose idea was it to bring Mr. Gray onto my ship?”

Marshall steps up beside him. “I approved him, Captain. He probably doesn’t know a weaver’s knot from a bowline, but he can swab decks. And maybe if he does that for long enough, he’ll actually build enough muscles to be able to pull a line.”

The Captain stares her down for what seems like an eternity more. She isn’t sure whether she wants his approval or not, but has a feeling that failing to gain it will mean something much worse than swabbing decks.

Finally he cocks his head slightly to one side, face relaxing. “Fine, then. You heard the man. Our defiant friend here seems to be done with his bucket, so get busy.”

It isn’t until he walks away that she realizes she was barely breathing. She sucks in a shaky breath now, trying hard not to make eye contact with anyone around her as she collects the bucket and brush and finds an unoccupied corner to start in.

There’s a lot to think about while she scrubs. Her life has been turned upside down twice within a week, first by her own doing, and now by pirates. This isn’t just a bad dream. This isn’t something that’s going to last for a few more days until she arrives at the new life she’s been looking forward to. Unless she can somehow escape whenever they make port, she’s stuck here. As a...well, basically a slave. Certainly not the way she was hoping to start things over.

She can’t let them find out her secret.

If they find out that she’s actually a woman, there’s no telling how they will react. Badly. That’s all she knows for sure.

So she keeps to herself. Doesn’t speak to anyone unless required, tries to stay unnoticed as much as possible. Scrubs the deck. Hauls crates around. Occasionally helps pull a line. Her hands are constantly shriveled, the ends of her sleeves always wet, and there are permanent bruises on her knees. Blisters quickly form on her palms, then burst, then form all over again until they’ve turned into her first ever callouses.

But she keeps scrubbing, and she watches.

For the first week or two, she was determined not to be one of them. She may be working on a pirate ship, but she’s not a pirate. Eventually, though, she started thinking harder about what it might take to survive this whole ordeal, not just until the next port, but possibly for a very long time.

What if the Captain decides she’s not useful enough? What if he decides to get rid of her while they’re out in the middle of the open sea?

So she watches. She shadows Marshall, the first mate, whenever she can, and tries to learn knots and terms and the way things work. She doesn’t push to be included in the process, not yet, not until she’s certain that she’ll make a good impression.

Like it or not, Mr. John Gray is going to be a pirate.

[shibarirobot]

Aizawa fic - CH4 - Entrapment

18+ Only! SFW (for now)

Shouta Aizawa x Villain!OC/Reader(?)

CH1

CH2

CH3

RIP so this took me forever to write... I’m not ginna apologize because it WILL happen again, but like,,, I’m always gonna post a new chapter eveentuallly hahaaaaaaaa ~ well anyways, enjoy..\its gonna get spicy in like 2 chapters dw Shouta is gonna get his dom hat on ;] 

I wake up sore. The lights are impossibly bright and I groan, trying not to open my eyes all the way. I try to reach up and rub my eyes, the pulsing behind them growing intense, but there’s a sound of metal on metal and a pinch at my wrist when I do. I actually open my eyes, wincing at the brightness and see my hands cuffed down in front of me. They’re secured to a large metal table in a very bright, open room. No one else is near, but I can see the mirrored observation glass to my left that I can only imagine is full of cops, detectives, and quirk handlers ready to pounce on me if I so much as sneeze the wrong way. I shift my head to gain some slight comfortability, only to feel a heavy collar around my neck. I can’t see it, but it feels like solid metal. A ring encasing my entire throat. lt’s humming softly, it’s on, whatever it is. I’m still trying to get used to my surroundings when there’s a ‘click’ and a loud scraping noise from behind me. It must be a door, because the air pressure changes in the room and I can immediately feel two people enter the tight quarters.

Their eyes are on me and I can feel the bile rising in my throat. I want so badly to disappear from existence, just to remove the pressure of their gaze on the back of my head. I slink down into my chair as much as I can. My restraints are tight and barely allow me to so much as breathe, my ankles cuffed to the chair, and a seatbelt type strap across my lap to keep me pressed into the metal seat. There’s another across my shoulders. My chest tightens and I wiggle a little bit, being strapped to a chair isn’t exactly one of my favorite things. 

A tall man in a black suit jacket rounds the table and drops a manila folder on the table. His white button up shirt hangs open at the collar, no tie, but there’s wrinkles around the top button. He must have disregarded his tie at some point. What time is it? Has he removed his tie because it’s too early or too late? He crosses his arms across his chest and focuses his tired eyes on me, his jaw clenched and lips set into a hard line. He looks like every disgruntled detective in every buddy cop movie ever. I stifle the urge to groan and roll my eyes. This is gonna be excruciating. 

He clears his throat and presses an index finger to the folder on the table in front of me, it’s surprisingly thin, probably only 2 or three sheets of paper between the cardstock, the tab has my name printed on it in big, black lettering. Their file on me is minuscule, they must not know much about me at all. I fight the urge to grin, I can’t get ahead of myself, they do still have me chained to a chair. “You’ve been causing quite a stir.” His voice is gruff, but it conveys something almost… impressed. 

“Really?” I deadpan. “I wasn’t aware.” The atmosphere is thick and I can feel the person behind me grow tense. My throat is sore and my voice comes out ragged. I cough, choking on my own spit and trying to suck in another coarse breath. I can feel my cracked rib stinging as I try to breathe slowly, evenly. My heart rate pumping loudly in my ears definitely isn’t helping my cause. This won’t go well for me if I get too worked up. I pinch my eyes shut, trying to refocus myself. 

“Two disturbances in one day.” He continues, ignoring my bratty attitude. “That’s more publicity than you’ve been raking up lately. Feeling bold?” He raises an eyebrow at me. I try to grip at what he’s thinking, what interest layers beneath these rudimentary questions, but there’s something stopping me. A fuzzy mental block that seems to have my quirk contained, not gone like when Eraser Head had ripped it from me, my brain isn’t empty, just slightly muted, held only within me. I glare up at him, confusion and repulsion evident on my face. “Oh, that? Your quirk is being restricted. That collar on your neck is emitting a neutralizing frequency. One of our tech support faculty designed it especially for you.” He uncrossed his arms and leaned against the wall, adjusting the cuff of his sleeve. “You should feel special.”

His taunting only serves to piss me off and I lash out, still strapped to the chair. “Let me the fuck OUT OF HERE!” I howl even though my dry throat protests. “What do you even want from me?” I’m trying desperately to break free, but this only results in a pitiful wiggling in the chair. I’m wheezing now, my ribs and lungs burning. The detective looks down at me from across the room, seemingly amused by my display. This only sends me into more of a fury. I fling myself backwards, the chair tipping with me. With no way of stopping myself from falling, I feel myself lose balance, no control over the way my wrists yank forward, still cuffed to the table. 

I’m suspended in what feels like thin air, only two legs of the metal chair still connected to the ground and the handcuffs on my wrists digging into the skin. My head falls back and I see him. He’s standing next to the door behind me, hands shoved deep into his pockets, a look of absolute lack of interest on his face. He’s still upside down to me, like the last time I witnessed him, but there’s something so different about him now. I want to see that wild look in his eye again. I want him to lash out at me. “Oh! You’re here!” Something in me shifts, a smile breaking onto my face. I no longer care that I’m held captive or under the scrutiny of the law, all I care about is this brooding man before me. “Y’know, I think you broke my ribs.” I let my head lull to the side slightly, lost in daydream about our last encounter. His black, unruly hair frames his face perfectly for me to see his jaw clench. “Of course, I don’t mind a little pain.” I let the last syllable warble on my tongue, it comes out flirtier than I meant it to, almost seductive. 

Eraser Head doesn’t move from his stoic position at the door, and I can hear the detective clear his throat again, trying to regain my attention. My eyes don’t move from Eraser Head’s face, studying his heavy lidded eyes and the scar on his cheek. “Let’s cut to the chase. You’ve held up 6 different locations in the past month and all of them have had criminal activities facilitated through them, but all from different crime rings.” He sighs. I can’t tell if he really has a question for me or if he’s just going to summarize all my endeavors. “There’s no way that you’re part of so many crime rings, half of them are at odds anyways.” My gaze is still fixed on Eraser, his eyes locked onto mine, staring so deeply into me, taking my soul and giving me nothing in return. I feel consumed by the need to provoke him. “So my question is this: How? How did you know about all these locations?” His voice is slightly raised, obviously frustrated by the fact that I’m barely paying him any mind with Eraser Head in the room. 

“I had a dream about you.” I continue to ignore the gruff detective, solely focused on the pro hero that has infiltrated my deepest sentiments. Eraser Head releases a slow breath, trying hard not to betray his cool demeanor. “I can tell you all about it if you like.” The flirtation is still heavy on my tongue, but it comes out breathy and with reproach because of my dry, crackling throat. He shoves his hands deeper into his pockets, staring me down even harder than before, the spark from before starting to return to his eyes. “Or show you.” I wiggle my eyebrow a little, cackling at my own emboldened state even as I’m being interrogated. 

Eraser Head rips his eyes from mine to look up at the detective of whose name I still don’t know. “I’m leaving. This is obviously going nowhere.” He starts to turn to the door, hand slipping from his pocket to knock on the heavy sealed door for the person on the other side to open it and let him out. My eyes widen, desperate to keep him in this room with me. He can’t seriously be leaving. He just got here, besides that, I’m not done toying with him yet. If he leaves now there’s no guarantee I’ll ever see him again. I can’t be sent to prison without even a semblance of his desire. Furthermore, I can’t be left with this stuffy stereotypical cop. 

A whine falls from my lips. “Nooooooo…” I lean forward in the chair and let it fall back onto all four legs. “Fine! Fucking FINE! I’ll answer your fucking questions, but HE stays!” I nod towards the door that had just started to open, Eraser Head halfway out the door already. “I’m ONLY talking to him!” My eyes flick back to the detective, observing the way that he looks to the hero, then back to me, and up to the hero again. His eyes are wide and he looks caught between a rock and a hard place. They must really need my information if they’re even considering taking my demands to heart. 

I hear the door close again, hoping that Eraser is still on my side of it. I know he is when his dark body starts rounding the table, standing next to the detective there. They exchange a hushed word that I can’t quite hear, both of them giving me a harsh side eye. When he turns back to face me, he glares down at me, one hand still in his pocket. My heart jumps out of my chest as he approaches me. He starts to lean towards me, across the table, still lording over me, his free hand pressing into the cool metal of the table, it looks so large there, it could easily fit all the way around my neck. I shiver at the thought. “Unfortunately, you are under no circumstance to be making demands. You will answer Detective Aiko’s questions.” He stands tall again, pushing a stray hair out of his face. “Goodbye.” He says it with finality, ending the conversation, there’s no room to argue. I do anyway. 

He begins to walk towards the door again, leaving my line of vision. “You can’t leave already!” I start to lash out again. “You can’t just leave!” I flail back and forth as best as I can. “You can’t!” The shouting is leaving me dizzy and I toss myself back again, the chair tipping like it had before. However, unlike before, I am stopped before my wrists are pulled forward by the cuffs. I look up to see him standing behind me, free hand on the back of the chair, propping me up. I stop struggling immediately, enthralled by the way his hair dangles around his face as he looks directly down at me. My mouth hangs open, he looks like my guardian angel, the way the fluorescent lights display the edges of his tangled hair, he looks wind swept and dangerous, a warrior if I had ever seen one. 

He suddenly jerks me forward, the chair slamming back to a regular seated position. “Behave.” He says it like a command, his tone still dry. “And maybe I’ll come back.” With that his hand is gone from the back of the chair, the tiny contact points where his fingers had brushed the nape of my neck, still burning. There’s that knock again, the door opening and closing, then nothing. He’s gone. I’m left feeling stifled, like a cork ready to pop. 

I look up at Detective Aiko, already feeling snappy after that interaction. I sneer at his raised brow, like he had witnessed something telling. “ASK YOUR DAMN QUESTIONS!” I roar at him and he smirks to himself, now knowing I’ll answer. This is definitely going to be absolute hell.

~

Yah I literally had a fucking stroke trying to get myself to write that. BUt anyways, Im just gearing up for the nasty ass smut that is about to go down in this mfkr, also maybe I can get those of ya’ll that are interested a seat to the tamaki show imma be putting on very soon :”)

CH5

[ghostinthelibrarywrites]

Downward Goat Bonus Scene

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9)

Merry Christmas to all who celebrate! Here’s some (very soft) smut. This occurs in the middle of Part 9, on the night of Eskel and Jaskier’s first date.

18+ only below the cut, please. (Everything above the cut is SFW)

The last time Jaskier was in Eskel’s room, things were still tentative and awkward between them, with Eskel pining over this beautiful, seemingly unattainable man who had crashed into his life and turned everything upside down with his blue eyes, his smile, and his leggings. This time, Jaskier tugs Eskel through the door and kisses him hard, nipping at Eskel’s lower lip, hands roaming shamelessly. Eskel doesn’t remember the last time he was kissed like this, like the other person would die if they had to stop kissing him. He’s pretty sure he’s never wanted to kiss someone this badly before.

But Eskel forces himself to break the kiss, take a step backwards, and look. Jaskier’s cheeks are flushed, his lips are red from kissing, and his hair is rumpled. Eskel will never get tired of the way the other man is looking at him, like there’s nothing else that Jaskier would rather be looking at.

“Okay?” Jaskier asks with a surprisingly shy smile. 

“More than okay.” Eskel’s voice is hoarse.

Jaskier reaches out and flicks open the top button of Eskel’s flannel shirt, his eyes never leaving Eskel’s face. “I can’t even tell you how long I’ve wanted this. Probably since the first moment I saw you. I really can’t overstate how attractive the combination of flannel and broad shoulders is. It’s really—”

Eskel kisses him as Jaskier unbuttons the next button on his shirt.

Jaskier huffs a laugh against his mouth. “Sorry, I babble when I’m nervous.”

“You have nothing to be nervous about.”

“I’m about to fall into bed with a gorgeous man with fantastic shoulders and an even better ass.”

Eskel cocks an eyebrow at him. “Oh, is that what’s going on here? I thought you just wanted another tour of the house.”

“You’re not funny,” Jaskier tells him with mock seriousness, though his lips twitch up at the corners. He flicks open another two buttons. His hands are shaking a little. “I need you to know how difficult it was for me to not jump you last time we were in this room. I wanted your family to all find some urgent business elsewhere so badly.”

“They take bribes.”

“I’ll keep that in mind for next time.” 

Jaskier pops the last button open and tugs Eskel’s shirt off. Eskel lets it fall to the ground and tugs his undershirt over his head, tossing it aside. He’s momentarily self-conscious— it’s been a long time since anyone saw him shirtless— but the naked hunger in Jaskier’s gaze alleviates his worries. Slowly, Eskel undoes his belt and pulls off his jeans and boxers, gratified by the long, low breath Jaskier lets out when his cock springs free.

“I want that inside me five minutes ago,” Jaskier says, eyes riveted on it.

“You’re wearing too many clothes for that right now.”

Jaskier undresses faster than Eskel knew was humanly possible, tossing his sweater and jeans aside without ceremony. He looks just as good naked as Eskel imagined, with a body that’s long, lean, and dusted with dark hair. His cock, already hard and ready, is as pretty as the rest of him. Eskel reaches out to take Jaskier’s hips in his hands and pulls Jaskier flush against him, bending his head to capture Jaskier’s mouth in his again.

As they kiss, Eskel backs towards the bed, pulling Jaskier with him. He’s so focused on Jaskier’s lips and his hands and the feeling of his erection pressed against Eskel’s thigh that he falls backwards onto the bed, landing with an oomph. Jaskier lands on top of him, laughing, and Eskel is going to apologize, but Jaskier is already kissing him again. Eskel runs his hands over Jaskier’s back and shoulders, reveling in the feeling of warm, soft skin, and lets his hands slide down to cup Jaskier’s ass. Jaskier’s breath hitches.

“Okay?” Eskel asks.

“So, so okay,” Jaskier says.

“Have I mentioned that you have a fucking fantastic ass?” Eskel digs his fingers into the globes of Jaskier’s ass.

“You haven’t. Feel free to keep telling me.”

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” Eskel kisses his way down Jaskier’s throat. “Gods, I can’t get over how pretty you are.”

“Fuck, Eskel.” Jaskier’s voice is gratifyingly breathless. “If you keep kissing me like this, it’s going to be an embarrassingly quick showing and then I’ll never be able to look you in the eye again.”

“Condoms are in the top drawer of the nightstand.” When Eskel went out to buy a box of condoms— his old ones had expired last year— he felt presumptuous as all fuck, but he’s so glad he did now that he has Jaskier naked on top of him.

Instead of standing up to reach the nightstand, Jaskier shimmies up the bed towards it so that his hips are level with Eskel’s face. Eskel nuzzles at the jut of his hipbones, the soft skin of his lower belly, the tuft of dark curls framing his cock. He smells salty, musky, and fucking delicious.

“Flavored condoms?” Jaskier sounds delighted.

“Mm.” Eskel nuzzles at the head of his cock, drawing a gasp from Jaskier. “Grab one of those for you.”

“Yeah,” Jaskier says, voice a bit squeaky. “Yeah, I can do that.”

There’s the sound of foil crinkling and Jaskier rolls off of Eskel, much to Eskel’s dismay. When Eskel makes an inarticulate noise of protest, Jaskier laughs. Eskel looks over to see Jaskier sliding the condom on his cock. There’s a little bottle of lube next to him on the bed. As soon as the condom is on, Eskel pounces. He slides his hands under Jaskier’s ass, lifting him up so that his legs settle on Eskel’s shoulders, and licks a stripe up his shaft. Jaskier’s thighs tremble against his ears.

Some other time, Eskel might have the patience to lick and tease and drive Jaskier to the edge. Right now, he just wants Jaskier’s cock in his mouth. Jaskier’s legs tightens around him as Eskel swallows down his length. Eskel closes his eyes and loses himself in the weight of Jaskier on his tongue, the thighs clenched around him, the perfection of Jaskier’s ass in his hands, the soft moans and gasps Jaskier makes as he sucks.

“Eskel,” Jaskier says and Eskel opens his eyes to see the other man holding out the bottle of lube. Eskel releases Jaskier with one hand to let Jaskier squeeze some lube onto his fingers. Eskel runs his fingers over the cleft of Jaskier’s ass. When he finds Jaskier’s hole, he presses the tip of his index finger in. He feels the muscle clench around him as Jaskier moans encouragingly. Gently, Eskel begins to work him open, slipping in one finger, then a second.

“Gods, Eskel, your hands,” Jaskier says. “You have the best hands. And your mouth. You keep sucking me off like that, you’re never going to get rid of me.”

Eskel sucks harder and crooks his fingers to brush Jaskier’s prostate. Jaskier’s hips buck and he cries out as he comes. Eskel nuzzles at his thighs and hips before letting him up so he can dispose of the condom. Jaskier slides back into bed and kisses Eskel sweetly.

“Mm, watermelon,” he murmurs.

Eskel didn’t even notice the flavor of the condom; he was too focused on the task at hand. “How do you want me?”

“So many options.” Jaskier runs his hands over Eskel, exploring him with his fingers. When his hand closes around Eskel’s cock, Eskel lets out a long, low breath. “I want to ride you.”

Eskel nods. He’s pretty sure he would agree to anything Jaskier says right now.

Jaskier grabs another condom and tears it open. “Lie down.”

Eskel complies, watching with hungry eyes as Jaskier kneels in front of him, legs, bracketing Eskel’s thighs. Slowly, he begins to slide the condom onto Eskel’s cock. He takes his time, his deft fingers teasing at Eskel. The feeling of Jaskier’s hands on his cock is overwhelming; Eskel can’t tear his eyes away from the sight of Jaskier’s long, graceful fingers. Once Jaskier is done, Eskel surges up to kiss him again.

When Jaskier breaks the kiss, he positions his hips over Eskel’s cock. Eskel grips Jaskier’s hips and moans as Jaskier lowers himself onto Eskel. He feels as incredible around Eskel’s cock and Eskel knew he would, tight and hot. Jaskier rocks his hip in slow, shallow movements, inching Eskel deeper inside of him. Eskel is breathless, unable to do anything but hold on and watch. When he bottoms out, Jaskier’s hips still.

“This okay?” Eskel asks hoarsely.

“Fuck, yes.”

That’s all the encouragement Eskel needs. He digs his fingers into Jaskier’s waist and begins to thrust. Jaskier starts rolling his hips in time with Eskel’s thrusts, reaching down to fist his hands in Eskel’s hair. He looks gorgeous like this— lips parted in pleasure, cheeks flushed, eyes filled with lust. Eskel reaches up to lace his fingers through Jaskier’s. A soft, sweet smile curls Jaskier’s lips and he bends down to capture Eskel’s mouth in his, increasing the tempo of his hips at the same time. Eskel takes the hint, thrusting harder. Jaskier moans into his mouth and Eskel slides down his hands to cup the other man’s face.

“Jask,” he whispers. He can feel the heat building in his lower gut. “Fuck, you feel so damn good.”

Jaskier laughs breathlessly. “Funny, I was just about to tell you the same thing.”

When Eskel comes, Jaskier kisses the moans from his mouth and collapses on top of him, boneless. The weight of him on top of Eskel feels perfect and he holds him close as he slips out of him. They lay there for a long moment, both breathing hard, with Jaskier idly playing with Eskel’s hair and Eskel’s arms locked around Jaskier.

“Fuck,” Jaskier says, which is all that really needs to be said.

Eskel grins and turns his head to press a kiss about Jaskier’s wrist. “Fuck,” he agrees.

“I could get used to this.” Jaskier’s smile is slow and hopeful.

Eskel tightens his hold on the other man. He can feel Jaskier’s heart beating against his chest. He doesn’t plan on letting him go anytime soon. “So could I.”

***

Part 10, the fluffy epilogue, can be found here!

@eyesofshinigami @wrenbug @buttercupsanddandelions @dredshirtroberts @maya-the-yellow-bee @tsukiwolf42 @contemplativepancakes @moonlightcrazyphoenix @wellthisstinks @samukai (sorry, it’s not letting me tag you)

[annaofthenorthernlights]

It´s your life

Chapter 6

New home

Setting: Kristanna - Modern AU

Rating for this chapter: M (mentioning of sexual actions, this time at the end…🙃)

Word counting: 2738

Previous chapters (on AO3)

Summary: When Anna had finished unpacking her suitcases, she felt even more at home. She wondered what it would be like to live here for the rest of her life. The thought made her smile, but was she allowed to think that way then?

Another note at the end of chapter…

Again, Anna stood before her suitcases and bags, that waited to get unpacked. She looked around the room. Kristoff must have rearranged his shelf and cupboard in his bedroom, to provide some space for her personal belongings. She liked her new surroundings. The three-room flat was situated right above the neat little carpentry. It was a cosy place.

Kristoff and Sven had got the chance to purchase the whole complex one year ago, when the former owner simply got too old to run the workshop any longer. The old carpenter had been delighted to leave the whole building to the young newcomers and had asked a fair price, that was in the reach to pay off in due time, if their work would flourish soon enough. And with the new project on plan, they would get good chances to make themselves a respectable name in near time. Sven himself lived next to his parents further down the town.

Kristoff and Sven had just met the project manager for the new construction site today to sign the contract for their involvement in this development. She had been so proud of him and was happy for her.

When Anna had finished unpacking her suitcases, she felt even more at home. She wondered what it would be like to live here for the rest of her life. The thought made her smile, but was she allowed to think that way then? She gnawed on her lips and sat down on the bed and let herself fall backwards to stare at the ceiling. Where would she be supposed to go from here? She didn´t want to be in the way or sort of intruder. But when she had called Kristoff right after she had left the family estate, he had not hesitated a second to announce his coming over to pick her up. Apparently, he was happy to have her here. Anna felt a gratefulness that reached deep within her, like a warm bath she could dwell in and relax, letting all anxiety drift away bit by bit.

The box with her study books sat in the corner. Anna sat up and thought for a moment. Yes, she would finish her studies, pass her finals best she could. But there was no reason not to look for a job in the meanwhile, to make her own living. To start her new gained life with some useful tasks.

And when she heard Kristoff rummaging in the kitchen with pans and plates, she decided to give her newfound freedom a good push start.

*****

It had been a troubled moment when Anna had called him right after his lunch break. She had been shaken; Kristoff could tell. But then, had he not expected such a call, and had he not secretly favoured it to be so? Not that he wanted his girlfriend to be devastated, the way she had got kicked out, not at all. But she was here now, with him, and he so hoped Anna would consider this her home, too. But then, compared to her former home… there was not much he had to offer. So, it had touched him deeply that she had just said this to him two hours ago.

“This is all. There´s not much left… I´ve nothing to bring, Kristoff… Nothing to offer that makes me a great catch to be taken home with. Will you still have me?” She had said. If only she would understand how happy he was having her.

He thought of the little gift box that was stored in his living room desk by now. He had carried it around so many times already. If only he could manage to find the right moment to ask her… But then, she surely needed to settle, to get acquainted with her life, that had just turned upside down within a few hours. How could he come her way now and ask her to join his world without her having figured out her own in the first place…

Kristoff had not heard Anna´s approaching and was occupied with the food on the stove, when two slender arms reached around his waist and a small body leaned in against his back. He smiled at this tender touch and patted Anna´s hands on his chest. It felt good, so good, to have her here.

“Have I thanked you already for taking me in?” She nuzzled into his shoulder blades.

Kristoff turned his head sideways and cooed to her, “have I told you how happy I am of having you here?” He shifted slightly to turn down the gas, shoved the pans to the side and turned within her embrace just to pull her close and burry his lips in her hair.

Gosh, I love you! I want to marry you, make you happy, start a family of our own… laugh with you, cry with you, grow old together, keep each other warm during cold nights…

If only he knew the right moment to ask her…

“Are you hungry? Dinner´s ready.”

*****

“Please, Anna, you don´t need to prove anything to me. Why don´t you just concentrate on your final exams for the upcoming weeks and be my guest for the meanwhile?”

“But I don´t want to be some sort of house sitter.” Anna gnawed on her lips, while turning her napkin in her hands. “You are so generous to me; I mean you shifted your things to leave some space to my stuff and on top of all you serve me the best food one could possibly get in this town. I want to contribute!”

Kristoff sighed and reached forward to lay his hand on hers.

“I know you do. But honestly Anna, I mean it. Take your time to look around and whenever you find something suitable, we can figure out how to proceed. I love having you here with me. And I will not hesitate to tell you every day if necessary. Besides, I always thought relationship is about being there for each other.”

Anna couldn´t help but smile at Kristoff with sparkling eyes. His words had stirred something within her. What if I could stay here forever? But yes, she needed to proceed for now, and to be hosted by this wonderful man was the greatest gift she was allowed to accept right now.

“Thank you!” She said simply. “I promise to concentrate on those upcoming weeks. But please let me at least share some chores with you. Imagine me proofing to you of being a capable housekeeper?” She giggled and waved off the thought with rolling eyes.

Kristoff grinned and remarked laughing, “go ahead. My home is your castle.”

Anna thought for a moment and tilted her head with a smirk.

“Suggestion for this first night… You know, I´m off the rag again.”

*****

Kristoff sat at the bedside and bent down to kiss his sweetheart awake. Not that easy a task, for Anna was a good sleeper. He didn´t mind. She was here and it was important that she feel safe and home. So, a good night rest would do her any good.

“Hey beautiful, good morning.” He cooed to her ear.

A mumbling something came from underneath a mess of red hair.

“I must head down for work. Breakfast is still on the table. Will you be alright? If you need anything don´t hesitate to come down, will you? Or give me a call. Yes?”

The mass of red hair moved slightly, and some part of a face came to sight, eyes still closed but the lips forming a “goo-mon… iwill… thx…”

A good hour later, after a shower and some crunchy oatmeal for the start, Anna sat over her books again. There was not lecture in today, so she could make herself a good home study day, which – at the end – turned out to be not very efficient. While she could hear the sawing machine and hammering and screwing activities from downstairs, Anna cherished the realisation of being where she was.

Though, her thoughts would wander off to here and there. Rewinding memory of the encounter with her grandfather popped into her mind. Then, she mused over how and what Elsa might be up to by now. Anna grabbed her mobile and checked her messages. There was nothing from her sister. She hesitated first, but then she sent off a quick note to Elsa, just saying that she was fine and sitting over her books (after all and at least, her study library was spread out before her, so it was no lie).

But most of all Anna could not help remembering Kristoff surprising her with that unforgettable trip to Disneyland. The memory of their partaking in those two parades made her dream off all along. It had been miraculous. It was just then, that she remembered her idea of the photo that must hang out as their reminder. Anna connected her mobile with Kristoff´s printer and looked through the drawers for suitable print paper. Ah, there it was. She reached for the pile of postcard sized photopaper, just to spot a little purple giftbox with a tiny fake sunflower on top, that lay neatly stored right behind the paper pile.

She was always told not to be nosy. Of course, she would not rummage within Kristoff´s belongings. She hastily pushed the drawer close and sat straight to commit herself on printing her pictures. The printer rattled and the photos ended up in the tray. No, she would not peep… But then, she had to put back the left-over photo papers. Okay, close your eyes, pull open the drawer and put back the pile. No. The pile must lay just the way you´ve found it. So then, pull open the drawer, concentrate on the paper pile in the front and then quickly shut that dam drawer!

The rest of the morning, Anna spent crafting a neat little frame for the special picture. She had pulled out a sheet of paper from her study paper and kept crafting and colouring little paper flowers and hearts along the hemline. Then, she glued the photo in the middle, and it was perfect. Around lunchtime she was done, and the lovely memory stuck to the refrigerator (Mickey and Minnie Mouse with Kristoff in the middle).

All the while she had been busy and distracted, concentrating dreamingly on her first contribution to add a little something to her new home. But now? She should go back over her books… What was in that little box?!

It was time for lunch and Kristoff and Sven were waiting. She´d better leave… That box…

*****

“Look, what we´ve got!” Kristoff beckoned Anna closer, when she had come down the stairs. She stepped closer to notice him looking at some piece of paper in his hand, shaking his head smiling. He showed her the content of the received post.

Anna gasped loudly and put a hand to her chest. “Oh my gosh, that´s so neat!” She grabbed at the photograph, that showed them both in costume. They were sitting on the sled and Kristoff had placed his arm around her shoulder, while Anna had put a hand on his knee. They were smiling at each other. It was a zoomed in pic and it was so loveable. A wonderful addition to the Mouse-family!

“Matthias has sent a little note with the picture,” Kristoff continued, “if we were ever looking for a job at Disneyland, we should just give him a call.” He laughed and placed a hand at her shoulder blades.

Anna withdraw her eyes from the wonderful picture and beamed up at him, chirping “good to know! If nothing works, I´d give it a try. Would be lovely to see Honeymaren again, anyway.”

Don´t look to much in his eyes, you will ask… Don´t ask what´s in that box…. Don´t!!!!

Luckily, Sven came in to give her a gentle hug and then they headed for a quick lunch break at the coffee shop around the corner.

Anna was determined to go over her lecture prep for the next day. She must concentrate and focus on her duty… If only she wasn´t so nosy… What if she just peeped a tiny little bit? No! She wouldn´t! For some reason, the little gift was in there. What if it was simply an empty box, waiting for a content? No. She wouldn´t peep… If it was meant to be for her in the first place… The surprise would be worth it! If…

*****

It was her second night in her new home and Anna felt content all over. She was about to get ready for bed and finished her evening routine in the bathroom. While brushing her teeth, she thought of the early evening. Kristoff had smiled at her craft work at the refrigerator and mentioned with a grin that her proof of good housekeeping was paying off already. He had earned himself a good playful punch to his upper arm for that. He hadn´t asked where she had got the photo paper from. Maybe he had been too tired from his work to think of the drawer. A thought hit her mind and she nearly dropped the toothbrush. What if he wouldn´t remember the giftbox? What if he had stored it in there ages ago and had forgotten about it? Okay, stop that brooding! And most of all – don´t say anything about it! You´re not nosy! Best you go to sleep right away!

When Anna came into the bedroom, Kristoff sat on the bed, looking at his mobile. He wore his boxer shorts as always and nothing else. He looked so dam good. Anna couldn´t go to sleep right away like that…

“Sven has texted just before,” Kristoff remarked glancing at her, “he invited us over to his place for tomorrow evening. His sister is coming and would love to see us again.”

“Ah, Susan, yes, that be lovely.” Anna exclaimed and shifted herself closer to Kristoff.

He put his mobile on the bedside table and offered her an embrace, which she eagerly responded by snuggling herself even closer.

“Are you alright so far?” Kristoff asked, while running a hand through her hair, and placing his lips to her forehead.

“Thank you yes. I think I will be fine with the final lectures coming up. I´m so glad to be here. It´s like a lucky twist of things, that I can learn without pressure and know I´m appreciated for who I am and not for what I achieve.”

Kristoff sighed and increased his embrace to confirm his appreciation. “I´m glad you´re comfy here. And I hope you can let go of what has been implicated on you. Maybe time will help. Hey, your family loves you, I´m sure. They just can´t get beyond their boundaries. That´s sad enough.”

Anna smiled into his chest and pressed a kiss to this broad ripcage. “Yes, thank you, I know. I have texted Elsa today that I´m fine and she´d replied I should contact her when I feel like it. I guess I will call her soon. After all, she always cared in her way.”

But for now, Anna didn´t feel like any more talking. There was another urge within her to show her affection and appreciation of the man that had been so loving to her all this time and who would sweep her off her feet in his ways! No matter, what was in that box…

So, she continued her tender work, shifting to straddle his lap, kissing his chest and neck all the while. By now Kristoff had placed his hands on her hips and was fiddling to pull up her nightshirt. Anna moved her hips and then freed herself completely from the gown.

They would run tender hands along their bodies, Anna lowered herself to press her lips to his. She circled her hips on his lap, favouring his hardness increasingly pushing up against her sensitive skin. Her hard nipples touched his chest and the soft groan from his throat sent an electrifying shiver down her abdomen. Kristoff embraced his girlfriend gently but firm and turned them both over to the side. Anna helped to pull off his pants and welcomed him eagerly and ready to unite.

And when they loved each other tenderly with Kristoff whispering “I love you” in her ear, Anna felt herself at home just so much more.

*****

Note: This fic is still dedicated to @justfrozenthings; sometimes we´re meant to concentrate on things... but for some reason we get distracted… Wait, where´s my mind gone…? 😊 And, what´s in that giftbox...🤪 => The next (and probably last) chapter should solve the unnerving curiousness 🤗

[acertainsomeone]

Mess- EdSer Oneshot

It’s been a long and knackering day not just at work but overall, to begin with. It was as if his life couldn’t stop itself from surprising him at every instant, and believe us they weren’t good surprises minus the one when Eda kissed him at the conference, or when he accepted his feelings for her. It’s been a bumpy ride ever since that. Things were not falling into space and he was amazed that he hadn’t collapsed yet. Maybe it was because of the things that were still the reason of each breath. There were things that he could not let go of. It had been 48 hours since the awful evening at Prince Seyman’s place. Eda, the love of his life, the woman he had lost his heart and soul to, had broken up with him, in fact they were not together at first place. She had straightaway told him that their relationship had been a mistake and she could not be with him. His face reminded her of her parents' death. She wasn’t wrong, he had thought. From now onwards whenever he will look at Semiha hanım he will also think of all the mistakes he had made in life that God decided to send her in his life.

If the breakup wasn’t hard hitting for him already, today’s lunch and it's unfortunate events surely had a go at him. The universe was indefinitely plotting against him if not less. How sinful was he to fall for Eda Yildiz that he had to bear the burnt by watching her having a romantic lunch with another man, who was unapologetically touching her at all places. Even he didn’t get to touch her like that for months. Alright, the pottery date counted as something but that was not even half of what Seyman tried to do with Eda.

Balca had insisted on a lunch, and in all honesty, he had agreed to do so only to rile Eda and show her that he could do better without her. She wasn’t the only woman left for him in this entire universe. Well, she really was the only woman for him in the whole world but at the moment Serkan wasn’t ready to have that conversation with himself. The drama during the lunch had been too much for him to digest, he really needed to sway away from these burdens and get a hot bath to relax his nerves.

Dragging his feet, with his coat hung upon his shoulder, and sleeves rolled up, Serkan made his way inside to his apartment that was like always hauntingly quiet. It was until he took a few more steps and widened his eyes enough to see that the exquisitely furnished lounge was in a mess. The sofa was upside down, vase broken, in fact every piece of art that he had specifically ordered from different parts of the world were shattered across the room. It seemed as if someone had broken into his apartment, but that was impossible. It could not have happened because at least he would have been alerted.

A perplexed Serkan made his way upstairs, a bit cautious just in case the chances of a burglar breaking into his apartment were true. It was messy all around, it seemed someone had entered his home with the intention of creating a havoc. A storm would have done less damage he thought.

“What the Fuck!” He exclaimed out loud in confusion and shock. Of all the possibilities of his apartment turning out to be a wreck, this was not even the last one on this mind. To his surprise, the woman who had made his day miserable (not really) was right there lying on the bed on her stomach, eating an apple while reading a magazine, which he thought was just an added aesthetic to the setting. Sirius on the other hand, while cheerfully beside her, he had been missing her a lot.

“Oh you are home! Hoş Gledim” Eda raised her brows pleasantly surprised but he could feel the sarcasm in her tone. She straightened up and rested her back against the bed. “Done serving your balca with the bugle for today? Serkan bey ?”

“Eda are you out of your mind? What are you doing here? And what is this mess for?” Ignoring her last comment, he asked her in a disbelief. Unable to comprehend the reason for her arrival and this mad behavior.

“How dare you ask me what I’m doing here?” She screamed and threw the magazine at his face violently. Even poor sirius got scared and left the room instantly. Serkan made a mental note of why was she holding the magazine before. The vases and other ornaments were broken so obviously she needed something to break his head or throw at him.

“SAKIN EDA. Sakin.”

“Next time choose your words and actions cautiously Serkan Bolat or there will be a rock instead of a magazine at your head next time.” She glared at him furiously.

Serkan couldn’t comprehend the reasoning behind her behavior. She was the one who pulled the breakup stunt last night and acted all possessive during the lunch. It was her who pushed him to punch Seyman because she had allowed him to even set a finger on her skin. Now she was in his home accusing him of a deed that he had no about, and ruining the expensive décor with her rage.

“You need to see a therapist Eda.” He soundly registered looking at the condition of his room. But the moment the words left his mouth he regretted instantly, this wasn’t the exact time to pinch her nerves Serkan.

“I would but only after you end up at the orthopedic.”

“NE?”

“Don’t try to fool around me Serkan. You’re not as naïve as you act.”

“What’s wrong with you Eda?”

Eda sat on her knees and pulled the pillow from her back to hit him with it. It wasn’t a single blow, Serkan couldn’t understand where did she muster the strength to hit him so hard, in fact put the furniture down.

“THIS. THIS IS WRONG WITH ME. You are everything that’s wrong with me Serkan.”

“EDA. It hurts, my neck is already hurting.”

“Gerçekten?” She stopped midway to look at him with a sarcastic pout that made her look cuter than ever before. Why she had to mess up everything when she can’t stop looking like this, it gets difficult to keep my hands of her, thought serkan.

“SERKAN BOLAT.” Eda let out his name with full authority and warning. She was no longer on the bed. Her index finger pointed at Serkan, and her feet gradually pacing towards her were signaling towards a war. Serkan began to step back worried for his life until he was met by a closet, leaving no room for escape. They need to make the room airier and without closets for future just in case.

“What do you think of yourself? What was so awfully wrong with your neck that you had to take the expertise of Balca rather than a doctor.”

So, it finally made sense to him that what was this all about. Eda’s animosity towards balca was no longer a secret from him. Even she was quite open about it now. He hadn’t expected that the moment between him and balca would disturb Eda to this extent that she will come for this throat.

His neck had a sprain and Balca, even though he insisted her not to, offered to fix it in a moment. Surprisingly, she did succeed, and he was grateful to her for that.

“Serkan!” Eda slapped him on his arm. “I’m here for answers, do you hear me.”

“Eda it was nothing, besides you are overreacting and please it was nothing in comparison to what was going on between you and your prince.”

“Serkan--- Seriously? What are we? Five? Is this some revenge game? I thought we were over the jealousy part in our relationship.” She sighed, and suddenly her voice had dropped.

Serkan sensed the tension and wished she had remained mad at him. That was better than this Eda at least. “Tamam I agree that I went a bit overboard and took advantage of the situation but Eda the prince was crossing his limits. You cannot deny that.”

“SERKAN BOLAT.” Eda held him by his collar and glared at him while pressing her tongue behind her teeth. “You dare let that woman come near you next time, and I swear on Sirius that I will be first to rip off that neck of yours.”

If Serkan hadn’t known Eda so well, he wouldn’t have taken that threat seriously. But this was Eda Yildiz, and she could do anything.

“We are surviving a pandemic, canım.” “Let her know and ask her to maintain a distance of 6 ft.” “You cannot afford to die anytime soon.” She let go of his collar and jerked him backwards with her right hand. Serkan stood their dumbfounded for a couple of seconds to make a mental note of what had just happened.

Eda was back on the bed, eating her apple and this time resting her head on the spare pillow to gather some moments of peace.

…..................................................................................................

She was circling his bare, shoulder with her long circles. Drawing patterns and teasing his toned muscles. Wrapped in white sheets, with lights off and their accelerated heartbeats, Eda and Serkan were silent for the last the one hour. In fact, the hadn’t talked much during their mating session, which was rather surprising.

““Remember when you talked about running away with me?” Eda uttered silently, her fingers hadn’t stopped doing that to his shoulder because she knew how much she was relishing it at the moment.

“Evet” He answered, not paying attention to what she had said but engrossed in the scent of her hair currently scattered across his face. He did not want to be disturbed, not even her voice at the moment.

“I should’ve listened to you and run away immediately.” Serkan raised his head from her chest and looked at her inquisitively.

“For what?”

“For us” She smiled at him kindly, resting his head back on her chest.

“Stay tonight.”

“I can’t, it’s dangerous Serkan.”

“Ahhh the wicked grandma will catch the children in bed.” He chuckled out loudly. “Heyy, it’s gonna be fine. Sooner than you’ll know.”

“But I’m scared Serkan. Last night, breaking up with you even if it was all a lie, felt worse than any of the nightmares I’ve seen so far. “I’d not even think about hurting you with those words, let along smashing them on your face.”

“I know. But can we please not talk about last night. It was horrible anyways.” “Nevertheless, you need not to worry about, we will run away if your babaannen didn’t fix herself up.”

“She won’t.” “And I can’t risk your life along with your parents.”

“You won’t.” He gestured calmly, with a smile on his face and kissed her on the chin only to bury his head back where it belonged earlier.

“Your calmness annoys me sometimes. I don’t know what’s in your head serkan but if this plan didn’t work out then?”

“Eda. Can you stop? It’s been a day and I am still trying to comprehend the events of last night.”

“Peke. I have to leave in next thirty minutes anyways.”

“Great, you can clean the mess, meanwhile I can catch some sleep.” He grinned sheepishly, only to receive a smack from her. They looked at each other with brimmed yet hopeful eyes.

There was hope to fix things and fix the mess in their life. They knew that their togetherness is their biggest strength at the moment.

Stay close to people who feel like sunshine

Hold close to people who make you shine

[thetierdslytherin]

The Avatar’s sister pt.2

Bolin x reader

this is a continuation of the avatar’s sister and it’s also based off of  season 1 eipsode 2 of lok

2.2k words 

        I'm woken in the morning by an incessant knocking on my door. I try to ignore it by pulling a pillow over my head but after the knocking doesn't stop I'm forced to get up and answer the door “what!” I throw the door open coming face to face with.“Korra! You better have a good reason for getting me up before the sun is up.” I cross my arms standing in the doorway waiting for her explanation

            “I do! I have training in 30 minutes and you know Tenzin's rule I can't leave unless your with me so we gotta go so I can be on time, get dressed” Korra pushes me out of the way entering my room “come right inthen” I say sarcastically shutting my door following her to my closet as she goes through it throwing clothes in my direction “Now get dressed and cleaned up. We don’t have a lot of time. Plus the sooner we get there the sooner you get to see Bolin” My heart beats a little faster at the mention of Bolin as I change into some of my water tribe clothes then brush my teeth and fix my y/h/c hair into a braid.

           “Well even Bolin isn't enough to make me move fast this early in the morning and I just met the guy. Besides you only to see Mako” I tease as we head out of the building to the shore “Korra i’m well aware i'm not your mother or in charge of you but please be careful I don't want to see you get hurt” 

          “psh y/n i'm gonna be fine your making a big deal out of this”

           I sigh and stop walking, Korra stopping with me. I look into her eyes before saying “Korra I know guys like Mako, i've dated too many guys like him I just don't want you to get hurt”

           “Yeah well maybe you just start minding your own business like you said you're not my mother and you're sure as hell not in charge of me so let me live my life for once!”Well,That could have gone better. We spent the rest of our journey in silence only speaking when we ordered breakfast. Maybe I am being too controlling. Korra deserves to live her own life and make her own mistakes. But we did just meet the brothers yesterday and know literally nothing about them. But I know Korra and if I push the issue any more she’ll just cut me out of her life until she's over it. 

 ��        “Your late” Mako doesn't even turn to look at us when we enter.

           “Okay yeah true but we brought food so lets call it even then?”

            I move to one of the tables setting their food down “yeah Mako look at this y/n was nice enough to bring us food so let's just take a break and enjoy the food” Bolin says starting to make his way over 

          “ we haven't even started yet so let's not. C’mon on Bo, Korra we have a lot of training to get through” The three of them run through drills for the better part of an hour before moving to the cool downs.

           “What's the big idea making me train this early in the morning? The morning is evil” okay dramatic much Korra? The three of them move into a triangle passing a weighted ball around.

          “Were the rookies so we get the worst time slot in the gym” Bolin passes the ball to Mako

          “And you're the rookiest of us all, we gotta get you up to speed if we want to survive in the tournament deal with it!” he passes to Korra 

          “You deal with it” she passes the ball back to Mako sending him flying backwards 

          “Children, children can you please not hurt each other this early in the morning. Alright let's not make this any more unbearable then it has to be” I pass by them to check on Mako and other than a sour look on his face he seems perfectly fine.

          Bolin pipes up “uh y/n not that i'm not happy to see you I really am it's just why are you here? you're not on the team?” 

          I glanced at Korra and said, “you didn't tell them?” she shakes her head I guess she just thought I would “tenzin's one condition for her joining the team. Wherever she goes I go so that means you're stuck with me, pretty boy. and you too mako… I guess” I go moving to stand by Korra. 

          “There are my hard working street urchins, it's an honor to finally meet you avatar” a muscly man in his mid thirties approaches us.

          “And you are?” Korra says crossing her arms.alright then just go ahead and pretend like i'm not even here.

          “Butaka I run this whole pro bending shabang. Anyways here your winnings from the match” Mako goes to pocket the cash but before he can Butaka stops him. 

          “First you owe me for the avatars new gear, gym and equipment rentals for last month, rent on your apartment, and a personal loan on groceries” By the time he's done there no cash left. Is it always like this for them?

          “Oh uh one more item of business the Fire Ferrets need to ante up 30,000 yuans for the championship pot” Damn ok that's more than I make for 6 months at my job and the brothers definitely don't have that kind of money just lying around.How are they gonna come up with it?

          “30,000 yuans!” My thoughts exactly Bolin

          “Sorry kids you have till the end of the week to pay or your out” with that final statement Butaka leaves along with the fire ferrets chances of playing in the championship.

          “The two of you wouldn't happen to have a secrets bank account filled with gold would you?” Mako and Bolin look at us with hopeful eyes 

          “No sorry boys I mean I have some money I could pitch in but not 30,000 yuans”

          “I've got nothing. I've never really needed money, I've always had someone taking care of me” Korra shrugs, giving a small smile. 

           “Then I wouldn't say you've had nothing then” Makos words carries no venom though, just distant sadness packing up his gear throwing it into a duffle bag.

           “I'm sorry I didn't mean-” “no its alright its just ever since we lost our parents we've been on our own” Bolin says giving Korra a sad smile shuffling towards us

           “Bolin, I'm so sorry that you had to go through it” I put my hand on his shoulder trying to offer some sort of comfort.

         “So anyway how are we gonna come up with the money?” 

“Ooh ooh I got it. I've been training pabu to do circus tricks now people would pay good money to see that” Bolin raises pabu into the air twirling him once.

          “C'mon bolin we need serious ideas” the smile immediately falls from bolins face and I can't help but stand up for him “that is a serious idea Mako. When we first came from the water tribe I know I would've paid to see pabu perform” 

          “ don't worry about it, I'll figure it out. I always do” and after that Mako walks out of the training room presumably to ‘figure it out’.

          “Hey korra why don't you head on back to the island bolin and I are gonna hang out for a little bit” he looks at me confused“we are?” I give him a nod “we are”. 

          “Yeah okay y/n just don't stay out too late you know how Tenzin gets” I give her a smile and a ‘of course’ then it’s just bolin and I left. 

          “So Bolin, how about you show me some of pabus tricks and you help me eat the rest of breakfast that Korra and I brought?” “um yeah but can i get a quick shower first im kinda gross?”

          “Only if you let me join you.” spirits his eyes almost bugged out of his head at my comment stammering to get an answer out before I take mercy on him “i’m teasing you Bo” 

          He clears his throat “right right yeah totally know that” That leads me to where I am right now Bolin and I on their couch eating cold pastries.

           “Hey Bolin” he pauses his eating for a second to look at me “why don't you tell me something about you. I mean we basically know nothing about each other except our shared love of pro bending and food” he looks thoughtful for a moment “Pshh not true” I shoot him a look saying ‘you sure about that’

            “Well I know you're a waterbender and that you have a sister and where you live...and that sounds way creepier than I meant it. I just mean you know you live with Tenzin who lives on air temple island not like I've been stalking you because that would be weird...” i've noticed he does this thing whenever he's embarrassed he’ll scrunch his whole face up for a second and start playing with his hands, which he's doing right now

          “Well okay but I don't know any of the important stuff” I say leaning in propping my chin on my hand 

          “What's the ‘important stuff?’”

          “Like your favorite color. You know a person's favorite color will tell you a lot about them”

          “Whoa hey now you just stepped over a line. I can't possibly tell you that” we make eye contact bursting out laughing at the notion.

           “ok fine I don't really have a favorite color” he scratches the back of his neck giving me a half smile

           “well maybe instead of telling me your favorite color you tell me about your parents” after seeing the look in Bolins eyes I quickly backtrack “you don't have to though I imagine it's a touchy subject I was just curious” he sighs setting his food down turning to me

           “no it’s not that it’s just not a very fun story to tell” he takes a deep breathe grounding himself “when Mako was 7 and I was 5 we were at home with our parents one night and a fire bender broke in trying to steal from us… he killed them right in front of us y/n, after that it was just mako and I. It's been that way ever since” he looks down trying in vain to keep me from seeing the tears in his eyes. I grab his hand running my thumb over his knuckles. 

          “Hey bolin why don't we go and set up for pabu to do his tricks” he glances at me “we could set it up under fire lord zuko's statute?” he laughs wiping the tears from his eyes

           “yeah y/n that sounds perfect” 

          We're both sitting on the base of zuko's statue on a carpet with two cups and a plank for pabu to walk on.Bolin and pabu have matching get ups and bolin has a fake mustache. while I sit beside Bolin bending water into different shapes to amuse myself. “Come one come all see pabu the fantasstic fire ferret as he crosses the ladder of peril upside down” Pabu then crosses the plank and flips landing on one paw which i'll admit is cute but not 30,000 yuans cute. “Thank you folks you are too kind too kind” Bolin says as a man passes by dropping 1 yuan into the cup. 

          Bolin looks a little upset by how far we still have to go “Hey Bolin look its a start you don't have to get all the money yourself i'd be happy to pitch in and i'm sure mako found a way to make some money” he sighs “yeah i'm sure mako has” that's the problem isn't it? I bet bolin is tired of his brother always solving his problems or better yet being the one who gets them out of ruts. 

          “Hey bolin is that you?” I Look up to see a well dressed man with urban water tribe clothes on getting out of his sato mobile 

           “oh hey shady shin” he waves at the man and I urgently whisper to bolin “by any chance is this leader of the triple threat triads shady shin?”

           “mhmm” 

           Wow since when did bolin run with gangsters? “I hear you're a big time pro bender now. Not bad.Anyways lighting bolt zolt is looking to hire some extra muscle” 

           “I don't know shin Mako told me to stay away from the triple threats” 

           “it's just some security work nothing crooked” he pulls out a fat wad of cash and throws it in Bolin’s cup he's about to agree before I cut him off before he can agree “double it and were both in i'm a water bender and a healer plus i'm good at ‘security work” 

           “Alright kid deal don't make me regret it” he puts another was of cash in the cup “now let's get going” Bolin and I follow him and get in the back of his sato mobile. What a mistake that was.      

[littlekatleaf]

Buried in a burning flame is love and its decisive pain (end)

Holy shitballs. Pretty close to exactly a year ago I got this idea - Junkrat and Roadhog have Christmas with some of the Overwatch crew. It was gonna be short and sweet and fluffy. I started writing in... February? 10 months and 21K words later I ended up with something almost entirely different. Oops? Thanks for joining me on the ride!  Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6  Part 7  Part 8  Part 9

Meds and tea and whiskey and food and mitten and probably a bit of fever still and the lingering feel of Roadie’s hand on his forehead all swirled together into an edgy excitement that made his blood fizz in his veins. Twitchy, itchy. Been looking forward to setting off the fireworks for months - been working them up that long and planning even longer. Had to get it all just right, then combine it with Lucio’s music, get the timing connected to the right shapes, the explosions to the right second… had to be focused, had to be precise and he loved the challenge. The sparks of thrill tingled along his spine and the fire they ignited burned away the lingering crud of sickness leaving him sharp and clear.

He enlisted Hana and Lucio to round up the others, betting they’d be able to convince anyone who was reluctant much better than he would. Even so, he was urging them down to the lake, torches bobbing through the dark, throwing odd shadows between the trees. Maybe talking a little faster than usual but how else was he going to impress upon them how exciting this was? 

“Know it’s cold - hadn’t really thought about that when I was planning. I mean, hadn’t planned to be here at all, just thought we’d be at the Watchpoint. Course, this is better, discounting the cold. Which is hard to do, but Roadie’s getting the bonfire goin’ - he could light a fire in the middle of a monsoon so no worries on that count. An’ Hana brought some whiskey to help so she’ll be right. Ya need to stand here, no closer. Gonna be over the water.  Safe as houses, but can’t be too careful - least according to Morrison, ha! Now turn off the torches. Better the darker it is. Lucky ain’t moonrise yet…” 

“What are we doing out here in the middle of the night when we could be curled up on the couch?” Mei asked no one in particular.

Junkrat ignored her. She’d see, they’d all see and he knew they’d love it just as much as he did if they gave it a chance. Lucio had been kind enough to not only have his sound system set up, but also brought out the box of fireworks so Junkrat didn’t have to lug it himself.

Didn’t take but a minute to set it all up, music on automatic once he started the program. All he had to do was hit the power and light the first fuse.

Music came up slow, soft, bit of piano, then edge of something electronic, rising bass and the first firework streaked up to the center of the sky and as the beat kicked in it exploded in a rain of silver and gold. At the crackling boom the others fell silent, faces tilted to the sky. The sparkles reflected in their eyes and Lucio’s soft ‘oh!’ and Hana’s squeal of delight made even the cold worthwhile. 

Let it start slow. Basic colors, red, blue, green, as well as the gold and silver. Usual shapes, circles, stars, ones that looked like fountains or willows. Then the music shifted, became rhythmic and complex with a minor edge and he sent the first special rockets. The streaks crisscrossed, intersecting like Satya’s hard light shield, like one of her knit shawls and around it burst snowflakes, all in shades of blue and silver. 

Music shifted again, bright and quick - and the second set of his own rockets split the air with a whistling crack then exploded in a crackling red heart, then a gold arrow streamed through. Lena bumped Emily’s hip with her own as their names twined through the heart. Another shift, one of Lucio’s songs, written for Hana and the rockets burst into pink bunnies and green frogs that seemed to bounce up the mountains ringing them and into the stars. 

As the music shifted a final time, setting a beat with a swing, Lena grabbed Emily’s hand and pulled her into a twirl, hands clenched firm but light, feet moving quick, spinning each other in and out and then they were dancing and so were Hana and Lucio and even Mei tugged Satya into the group. 

And then - perfect timing, as the music sang “Seeing’ stars, I’m seeing stars” the final bursts of fireworks - his favorite of the bunch - exploded overhead and Junkrat couldn’t stop his grin at the stars he’d created. Spread above him and Roadie was their night sky. The Saucepan and the Crux. Looking right, looking perfect, not upside down like here.

For a long moment Roadhog said nothing, just stood with his face tipped up, sparks reflecting in his mask as the fireworks cracked and popped and the music thumped and the others laughed and danced.

“Thought ya might like a bit of Straya,” Junkrat said finally, unable to wait for Roadhog to say something. Anything. Maybe he hadn’t recognized it after all. Or maybe it wasn't anything like he’d hoped. Maybe it only looked like home because he was remembering it so clearly. Imagining it. Making it all up again. He shoved his hand in his pocket as a gust of wind swept over them and a sneeze slammed into him, followed quickly by two more. “Huh-r’isssh! Isshh! Ishhew!” 

Didn’t even hear Roadhog move, but suddenly he was right there, shoving his hat down over Junkrat’s head and then wrapping his scarf around Junkrat’s neck. “Stay warm, idiot.”

“Trying,” he said, shivering still. He let Roadie lead him over to the fire which had grown to a roaring height, pouring out a welcome heat. Pine logs crackled and spat sparks swirling into the sky to swirl with the real stars and their backwards constellations.

Lucio cranked his own mix and the bass echoed off the mountains and Lena and Emily still danced with him and Hana. Mei and Satya huddled together, passing a mug of something between them and for a moment, just for a minute, everything felt fine. Felt good.

Junkrat glanced at Roadhog, and though the mask obscured his expression, there was a looseness in his shoulders, something in the tilt of his head that seemed to speak of relaxation and calm. Made the cold and exhaustion worth it. “Happy Christmas, Roadie.” 

“Happy Christmas, Rat.” The warmth in his tone did more to drive away the chill than the fire and Junkrat leaned against his side, letting himself enjoy the closeness. 

After a bit, the others joined them around the fire and Lena passed a joint around, “For everyone except you, Junkrat. Sorry.” 

He shrugged, pulled a flask out of his pocket. “Not gonna share my plague. Got this anyway.” The whiskey left a warm curl in the center of his belly, his muscles loose and easy. Satya told a story about a Snow Queen whose frozen heart melted with the love of a peasant girl, and though Junkrat wanted to roll his eyes, he understood the feeling. The desire to have one’s own story told in myth - to be connected to something bigger. Lena told a story about Father Christmas. Mei about a Chinese hunter, Jia Deng, who hunted with a pet wolf and left gifts of his hunt with the poor during the cruel months of winter. Then Roadie exhaled a long puff of smoke and said,

“Bet you never heard of the Holiday Boar.”

Junkrat giggled into his scarf. “Ain’t gonna tell that one to this lot, are ya?”

Lena cocked her head quizzically. “No, can’t say I have.”

“Well. Long before the Omnium exploded, before the Omnics were even an idea someone had, the Outback was still a hardscrabble place. Dusty and hot and many were desperately poor, trying to eke a living out of land that wasn’t easily giving. One day a wild boar appeared in a village, ribs showing through its skin, hair falling out in patches, it was the most pathetic excuse for a creature the villagers had seen. Most tried to chase it away with kicks and shouts and stones thrown. 

“At the edge of the village there was a farmer. He lived alone on the land. When the boar came to his homestead, the farmer’s first reaction was the same as the others - he wanted to chase it away. Nothing good could come of bringing another mouth to feed into his life. But as he raised a hand to throw a stone, he caught a glimpse of the creature’s eyes and his long dead daughter’s voice spoke in his heart. ‘Papa, please.’ His hand fell and he sighed and the boar stayed.

“In the beginning he found it annoying, an intrusion on his solitude. Still, he fed the creature, sharing the little he had, and in return it kept him company, following him like a dog and seeming to listen when he spoke. Come winter the boar was healthy and grown to a surprising size. Villagers who saw it walking with the farmer nodded knowingly - at the first cold snap he’d likely kill it, and the meat could feed them all.

“But the cold came and still the boar walked with the farmer. The villagers eyed them more than a little oddly. Finally, on the longest night of the year, the farmer was sitting by a fire with the boar at his side as usual. The farmer was lamenting that the land had been even more reticent than usual, and he was likely to lose his home to the mortgagers. 

“The boar’s stomach gave a great rumble, then it leaned forward and puked up a pile of gold coins onto the ground. The farmer never went hungry again and the village prospered.”

Junkrat couldn’t help himself, he burst out laughing. 

Hana laughed too, shook her head. “There’s no way that’s a thing.”

“It’s Australia,” Roadhog argued, deadpan voice. “It absolutely is.”

Lucio nodded, took a drag from the joint. “I could see it.”

They told stories and Lucio led them in carols and the warmth of the fire and the whiskey and Roadhog at his side and Lena’s jokes “What do you call a dinosaur fart? A blast from the past! Why does a duck have tail feathers? To cover his butt quack!” and Emily’s laughter lulled Junkrat into a doze.

“He snores louder than a boar,” Satya said, irritably. Lena giggled.

“You gave him your scarf,” Hana said to Roadhog and her tone was equal parts teasing and curious.

Junkrat felt Roadie’s shoulders move in a shrug. “Never takes care of himself, even when he’s sick.” But though he was more than half asleep, he could hear the tight coldness of the comment. The relaxed ease had gone. Junkrat wanted to sit up and interrupt, but he was just so tired.

“Gave him your cold too, huh.” Still that sing-song teasing tone, but it cut at Junkrat.

“Maybe.”

“Come on, Roadhog. What’s up with you two, anyway? He won’t give us a straight answer.”

Felt like everyone’s eyes were on them, staring. Junkrat tensed. Sit up, he told himself. Stop this. But he didn’t. He wanted to know what Roadhog would say, even more than he didn’t want to know.

Roadhog’s shoulder moved in another shrug. “Someone’s gotta keep him from offing himself on accident.”

Mei laughed; least no one else did.

Ice through his body, through his stomach, his mind, his lungs. He coughed against it, but it didn’t move. The fire had burned down to little more than embers and even scarf and hat, mitten and whiskey weren’t enough to keep him warm. He forced himself up then, away from Roadhog. Faked a yawn like he just woke up.

“Knackered. Gonna call it a night. Happy Christmas all.” Forced the words past lips that felt frozen and barely heard the others saying goodnight and thanks for the fireworks. 

The moon glowed on the snow, lighting the way back to the cabin enough to keep him from stumbling on tree roots and rocks. His foot crunched softly on pine needles and he heard Roadhog’s louder footfalls behind him. He walked faster. Just wanted to be inside, to be alone, to be warm, to be silent. Even the light of the Christmas tree seemed to mock him with its fake promise of coziness. He’d take a bath, let the water warm his bones, soothe the chills, then sleep. 

“When I said ya ain’t gotta babysit me no more, I meant it,” Junkrat said stiffly as Roadhog followed him into the bathroom. “Promise I ain’t gonna drown in the bath. Even I’m not stupid enough to do that.”

“How’re you going to get in and out?” Roadhog asked bluntly.

Junkrat turned to look and of course there were no bars to let him navigate it himself. Once he took off his prosthetics he’d be screwed. Fuck. He pushed past Roadhog and out of the bathroom. Wasn’t worth it.  

But the bedroom was just as bad. Wanted to collapse onto the bed and sleep for a century or ten, but Roadhog was standing there in the middle of the room taking up all of the space and all of the air and Junkrat knew he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep with his… looming. Instead he shoved the pillows to the head of the cot and sat against the wall, wrapping a blanket around himself. Just barely resisted pulling it over his head, too. Knew Roadie would stare and it was making him jittery. Not in a good way. His head ached again, skin tight with the too hot too cold feeling of returning fever. Should have asked Lucio for more meds. He rubbed a hand over his face, wishing for relief. Wishing for Roadie’s hand on his forehead again, cool and firm and steadying.

“Gonna tell me what’s eating you?” Roadhog asked, finally. His arms were crossed over his chest and he looked down at Junkrat from his full height. Not exactly the most inviting posture. 

“What are we?” The question spilled from him like he was vomiting. “An’ don’t give me some stupid shit like you don’t know what I mean. Hana asks and Lucio asks and you avoid the question.”

“Why do we need to put words to it? Why do they need to know anything?” 

Junkrat shrugged. It wasn’t for them that he needed words. It was him. He needed a foundation, an understanding. Because things were slippery and they could slide away from him before he had a chance to catch hold. “It’s me askin’. Now that ya ain’t my bodyguard. What are we?”

A long pause, a silence full of all the things Roadhog didn’t say. 

“Morrison said I could leave,” Junkrat blurted, unable to stand it.

Roadhog waited.

“Said if this do-gooder shit was too bloody difficult he’d have Lena turn me in. Serve my time and then whatever came next was my choice.”

No response.

“Told him I’d have to talk to you about it, but he said just meant me. I been thinkin...’ we should do it. Could probably convince him to let you go too. Then when we were far enough away could hijack the Orca, dump Lena and head back to Straya. Head home. Get the treasure, sell it to the Queen and find a place to just… live.” He blinked and the after-image of fireworks burst across his vision, constellations in all their permutations. Home. Was it? Didn’t really know anymore… But maybe there it wouldn’t be so hard, maybe there it would be like it had been.

Still no response, no movement at all. Like Roadhog’d turned to stone. Mountain. Felt his gaze go cold, measuring, calculating. Had seen Roadhog turn that gaze on others, size them up, find them lacking… but not on himself. He froze. Utterly still. Waited for the judgment to fall. Then Roadhog laughed. Not like something was funny, or maybe like he was funny and the sound was brittle and sharp in his ears.

“What’s so bloody funny, mate?” and his own voice held an edge.

“The idea that I would want to leave this,” he gestured around the room, taking in everything, “give up the good thing I got going here to… what? Live out some tiny shit life in that hellhole with you? Why the fuck do you think I’d want to go back to that? And with you?” He positively roared with laughter. “You are thick as a rock. Batshit crazy. A complete mess. Sure, when there wasn’t anyone else around who wasn’t trying to kill me, you were good for a laugh. A way to get my rocks off. But in the real world? Fuck no.”

“Fuck you too.” The words scraped his throat and he wished he had covered his head because he had that ominous prickling behind his eyes like he was going to fucking cry, or sneeze, and either way he was fucking well not going to give Roadhog the satisfaction.

“You want to know what we are, Junkrat? We ain’t shit. Nothing. Do what you want, stay or go. I couldn’t possibly give less of a shit.”

“Well that’s fuckin’ clear as crystal. Why don’t you fuck off then an’ let me sleep.” He grit his teeth, bit the inside of his cheek hard enough that he tasted iron. Not going to crumble. Watched as Roadhog turned and crossed the room. Watched the door click shut behind him. Watched the blank wall and refused to let himself crack. Silence then, that he’d wanted. But no warmth. Even wrapped in blankets felt like he was sitting in a snowstorm. Everything muffled and frozen. Freezing.

Then that chuckle in his head. You got an answer. Might not have been the one you wanted, but really Jamison, what did you expect? Did you honestly think he would go back to an irradiated waste land and a criminal life to be with you?

He thumped his head back against the wall, squeezed his eyes shut. Clenched his fist so hard his nails bit into his palm. Shut it. Ain’t real.

No? So make me be silent, then. More laughter. Oh Jamison. How do you think someone would want to be with you when your own mother couldn’t stand to be with you? 

You don’t know nothing ‘bout my mum, he told her. Nothing. But a couple tears leaked free, and the tingling prickles made him sneeze and he buried his head in the blankets and let himself go until he fell asleep, her laughter and Roadhog’s laughter still ringing in his head.

Sleep was restless, part of him kept jerking awake thinking he heard the door open. He hadn’t. When he finally woke completely he felt like he’d been hit by the ute, then had it back over him again. He stumbled out to the living room where he found Hana and Lucio playing a game with Emily, and Mei and Satya watching. 

“Morning, Junkrat,” Lucio said.

“More like afternoon,” Hana corrected.

“Potato potahto,” Lucio shrugged. “Wanna join? You can play winner.”

“Nah,” he cleared his throat, tried to sound nonchalant. “Where’s Roadie?”

“Apparently Morrison sent him on some mission. Something going on in Australia. Lena took him early this morning,” Satya said. “Guess you didn’t go ‘cause you’re sick?” Hana asked.

“Yeah. Something like that.” His head went light. Hadn’t thought Roadhog would actually leave. Take the treasure for himself and go… but there it was. He made his way into the kitchen on a floor that seemed to rock like a boat. Opened the sat comm with numb fingers. 

“Morrison.” “It’s Fawkes. I’ll take your offer. I want to turn myself in.”

[sapphire-strikes]

☆Smile For Me Headcanons Pt. 4☆

Even more of these! Just more pointless fluff about Habit for the most part. Might elaborate on some of the ones I did before. (These are all meant to be platonic but feel free to use your imagination!)

{Note: You are the Flower Kid!}

Part . 1 Part . 2 Part. 3 Part. 4 Part. 5 Part. 6

• Boris' has a lot hair. It's cury, soft and untamable.

• The guy probaby hasn't had a haircut since college and besides washing it regularly, he doesn't do much with it. Somehow it still turns out looking fabulous. Like the rest of him it also smells strongly of bubble gum toothpaste.

•Hug him from behind and let it consume you

• If you offered to style it for him he would get really excited. He's never done anything other than put it back in a ponytail.

•There's way to much of it to do anything too fancy so braiding it is probaby the best way to go.

• He'll just be sitting there with his hands together, red faced with a smile that grows bigger each time your hands brush his head.

•This is one of those moments where he realizes that he really has friends! He has a friend and they are sitting here with him right now braiding his hair! He might even tear up a little. Next thing you know there are tears running down his face. When you notice and ask him what's wrong, he'll just sniffle and say, "I've never been better!", with the biggest smile.

• If your hair is longer, he'll offer to return the favor, but he's not very good at it with how big his hands are. In fact, he doesn't know in the slightest what he's doing, but you appreciate the thought.

• Will probably have to give up halfway through and just ends up playing with your hair instead. For your own sake you better hope you don't have a ticklish scalp.

• Boris isn't a fan of candy or soda. That probably plays into the fact that he's a dentist, but the guy is a big fan of ice cream. He's the kind of guy that will eat an entire tub in the middle of the night. (Kamal's freezer is probaby like half full with nothing but mint chocolate chip)

• Habit has been a little self conscious about his height since he first got into college but you seem to think he's cool.

• If you're ever walking somewhere together he might suddenly pick you up and put you on his shoulders. Now you can be tall too! He holds tight onto your legs the whole time and thinks it's funny if you fall backwards. Now you're hanging upside down being cushioned by his hair. If he's feeling mischievous he'll just keep walking for a while with you dangling behind him.

• Tries to carry Kamal around on his shoulders too but the poor guy finds it embarrassing.

• Aside from his coat and work clothes, Boris' casual attire consists almost exclusively of Hawaiian style shirts and bell bottom jeans.

• Tell him your favorite flower and he'll never forget it. He gives out flowers to all of his friends and is really into flower symbolism and picking out ones that have specific meanings. Even if you don't understand what they represent, he feels all warm inside watching you smile at them.

• For you he would make a bouquet of Hydraishas (They express gratitude for being understood), Lisianthus (gratitude and an everlasting bond), Freesia (It conveys a message that you are radiant with charm) and Hybrid Delphiniums (big-heartedness)

• For Kamal he would make a bouquet of Purple Hyacinthes (I am sorry, please forgive me) Gladiolus (sincerity and strength of character), Aster (Patience) and Irises (wisdom and trust).

Might be the last one for a bit! Gonna keep scribbling down idea though and if I get enough for another one if these I'll write it up so look forward to an eventual part 5! My enthusiasm for writing stuff is super on and off, but I've been enjoying doing these alot.

[lovemesomesurveys]

[yourheaventonight]

Where have you been all my life? I’ve always been right here.

Can you recite the Greek alphabet backwards? Nope. Or at all.

What social networks are you a part of? Like every main one.

Which of your fields of interest are you a total expert on? I’m not a total expert on anything.

What is one thing you will never understand? Why I’m like this.

Do you blog? This is it.

What was the last movie you watched? Godzilla vs Kong.

^Would you recommend it? Yeah, I enjoyed it. Admittedly, I was mainly interesting for Alexander Skarsgard, but I did think the movie was good.

With whom did you share your last awkward moment? My life is an awkward moment.

When was the last time you got all dolled up? It’s been yearsss.

Gimme yer best shot and insult me. Go ahead. Uh, no.

What do you think makes a person attractive? Physical attributes, certainly, but personality traits and who they are as a person makes a person attractive to me as well. Even more so.

Out of everyone you know, who has the worst taste in music? I don’t think anyone I know has bad taste in music, I share a lot of the same music taste.

^How about the best? ^^^

Can guys REALLY pull off skinny jeans? They can wear whatever they want.

What is one thing you missed out on that you wish you hadn't? I missed out on a lot of my 20s I feel like, it feels like a complete blur. I don’t know what happened to them. And now I’m in my 30s and I feel like I’m missing out on those, too. Just life, in general for the past several years. Everyone around is me is doing things and living life and I’m just wasting away.

What was the last thing/place you decorated? My room for Christmas.

Have you just recently started listening to any new bands? No. It’s been a long time since I’ve discovered any new bands.

How many windows/tabs are open on your computer right now? Two windows, 7 tabs.

Would you rather date someone really skinny or really overweight? I want to date someone based on other things. 

Let me in on a little secret of yours. Nah.

What is one habit you had as a child? Nail biting/picking. 

^Do you still have that habit today? Sigh, yes.

Is there someone you wish you were closer with? Yes.

^What's stopping you from being closer with them? I’ve been so distant and withdrawn from everyone.

Besides air, what was the last thing you inhaled? The scent of my ramen earlier.

Which point in life do you think is hardest? (i.e. childhood, adulthood...) For me it’s been the past few years.

How was life going for you, say, six months ago? Not well.

^Is that the same as today, or have things changed? Things have changed, but not in a good way.

Who was the last person to make you frown? It’s been things I’m struggling with doing that, not a person.

^Was anyone able to turn that frown upside-down? No.

What was the last non-papery substance you drew on? I have no idea.

What is one thing you wish you had the courage to do? Get certain things checked out and taken care of that I’ve put off for too long.

Which is bigger: Your iTunes library or your CD collection? My iTunes collection was definitely better. I haven’t used iTunes since like 2012, though, and I don’t have any CDs anymore.

What is your one true weakness? I’m just weak.

When is the last time you had hot chocolate? It’s been a couple years.

Composition notebooks or spiral notebooks? Why? Spiral. I just like them better.

What is the most bizarre compliment you've ever received? That I looked pretty for someone with polio. I don’t have polio, but they assumed I did just because I’m in a wheelchair. Also, what does that even mean? “For someone with polio.” Wtf?

Do you identify more with guys or girls? I think I relate more to girls.

When someone you know is sad, how do you go about cheering them up? I kinda suck at that and don’t know what to do or say.

Has someone ever accused you of not being creative enough? I say that about myself. I lack creativity or any artistic ability. 

Starbucks coffee or Dunkin Donuts coffee? I’ve only had Dunkin’s coffee a few times, but I’ve had Starbucks countless times and I do like it, so I’ll go with that. I do wish I had a Dunkin where I live cause apart from the donuts, I’ve heard they do have good brewed coffee.

Do you crack under peer pressure? Yepppp. And it doesn’t take much.

What do you think deserves more attention than it already gets? Hmm.

What song never fails to get stuck in your head? Songs I hear in commercials.

Who is your favorite vocalist? Why? Chester Bennington is one. His voice was incredible.

What is your most overused emoticon? This one: 😬 Do you ever name objects? (i.e. mp3 players, guitars, cars, etc.) Nah.

When was the last time you had a bagel? Hm. It’s been awhile, actually. I don’t even remember. Can you lick your own elbow? No.

What time during the day/night is your mind most active? At night when I’m up alone.

What color ink does your favorite pen have? I have a nice set of colorful pens that I really like.

What was the last thing you licked? My lips.

Who was the last person in your bed besides yourself? Just me. Can you touch your tongue to your nose? No.

What flavor mouthwash do you use? I don’t. Mouthwash irritates my mouth.

What tends to distract you most? I just find myself zoning out a lot. Like, someone will be talking to me and I feel myself getting overwhelmed quite easily and drift out and it doesn’t mean they’re boring or talking about heavy things (sometimes they are). I get like sensory overload. Or I’ll just be sitting in bed and zone out.

Is the perfect man or woman a myth? Yes. No one is perfect.

How do you feel about Bob Marley? I like a couple songs.

What's your favorite fairy tale? I liked reading or listening to all of them when I was growing up. <<<

Do you know who Tom Jones is? Yes.

Tell me one fact you know about horses (without using Google). They have manes.

When was the last time you had to walk up or down stairs? Well, never since I’m in a wheelchair.

Tell me one unique quality about your own handwriting. My handwriting is shit.

What daily chore do you secretly enjoy? I don’t enjoy any type of cleaning.

Has a child ever asked you a question you found difficult to answer? Definitely. Kids ask a lot of questions about everything and anything.

Name five books you've read in the past year. I’ve read a ton more than that, but I’ll give you the latest 5: Cold Highway, Cold Threat, Cold Hunt, Cold Truth, and To Die For.  You can probably tell the first 4 are by the same author, Mary Stone. The last one is by Willow Rose.

^Are any of those books your favorite? I’ve enjoyed ‘em all. I’ve read a lot of books from both authors.

Are you a person that enjoys re-reading books? I don’t re-read books, actually. 

Which hobby is the lamest: stamp collecting or spoon collecting? I wouldn’t call either of them lame just cause it might not be something I’m personally interested in. Those bring some people joy.

What do you daydream about most often? My mind wanders off to random stuff, stuff I’m dealing with, stuff I’m anxious and stressed out about, etc.

Why is your favorite band your favorite band? I’ve listened to them since middle school, so we have a lot of history. I really just connect and relate to their lyrics and I love their music.

Do you have a favorite talk show host? Nah.

What do you wish you could afford at the moment? A beach home with my own private beach area. 

What is the most unusual color you've ever painted your nails? I can’t think of any “unusual” colors that I’ve painted them. 

Which sounds the most refreshing: a hot shower or a cold one? I always take hot showers.

Have you ever made your own soap? No.

What's your favorite popsicle flavor? Not a popsicle fan.

Can you sleep with socks on? Yeah, I always have socks on.

When was the last time you were pissed beyond belief and why? I’ve been frustrated and pissed with some things I’ve been dealing with lately. 

Name a band with the word 'red' in their title. Red Hot Chili Peppers.

Do you have a favorite candle brand? I’m not a candle person. I just go for the room sprays.

How many years until you turn 38? 6. D:

What is your opinion on taxidermy? I find it super creepy and weird.

Would you ever want to own a body part in a jar? Uh, no.

What is the worst thing you have ever done to your own hair? Let it get really knotted up. :/

What do you think makes you a good girlfriend or boyfriend? Nothing.

What qualities of yours do you think could potentially harm a relationship? I’m a total mess, I wouldn’t make a good girlfriend. 

How often do you indulge in a favorite food from your childhood? I eat ramen regularly.

Have any of your childhood habits carried over into adolescence/adulthood? My damn nail picking habit. 

What is the nicest thing you've done for someone else in the past 24 hours? Nothing.

What sort of conditions do you require in order for you to fall asleep? It needs to be cool and I have to have the TV on.

What is the first band that comes to mind when I say 'dark'? Uhhh.

Do you have a favorite punk band? Green Day.

As far as relationships go, what are your biggest deal-breakers? Abuse and cheating. <<<

Be honest: do looks really matter to you? They’re like a bonus to me. <<<

Congratulations! Someone sent you flowers! What kind do you hope they are? I’m not picky, just a pretty assortment perhaps would be nice.

What type of underwear do you personally prefer to wear? Hipsters.

What is the grossest chore you've ever been assigned? Nothing gross.

What band (BESIDES IRON MAIDEN) comes to mind when I say 'iron'? I got nothin. 

Have you ever done something simply because you were of age? I had to go out and buy alcohol the day I turned 21.

Do you think it's worth it to tell someone you had feelings for them when you don't have them anymore? Wait, tell them I used to have feelings for them but don’t anymore? If I don’t anymore then why tell them about when I used to? Unless of course we were in a relationship and I no longer felt that way.

What color shirts do you tend to buy most often? Black.

Have you ever done something you once thought you'd be too chicken to do? Yeah.

Where would you rather go: Portland, Oregon or Portland, Maine? Portland, Oregon.

Name a band that begins with the letter Y. Yeah Yeah Yeahs.

Tell me about someone who has made a huge impact in your life. My mom most definitely has.

What can I usually find you doing at 4pm on a weekday? At that time any day I’m likely still sleeping.

What's a food you love but don't get to eat very often? I only eat the same few foods, so I eat them quite often. Like, I eat Wingstop 3-4 times a week...

Do you dot your lowercase i's? Yes.

What's the first song on your iPod/mp3 player that comes up under P? I use Spotify on my phone for music, but anyway nah I don’t feel like doing that. 

Do the words 'Amon' and 'Amarth' mean anything to you? No.

What's your favorite mythical being? I don’t really have a favorite.

Don't you hate surveys that end abruptly? As long as the question itself isn’t cut off, which I’ve seen, or it’s a numbered one and a question is completely missing then I don’t care.

Let's end this survey with a smile; tell me something funny. I’m not in a good mood to think of something funny right now.

[thathopelessromantic]

Crossing Lines

Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender Rating: Mature (implied sexual content + mild language) Pairing: Lance/Keith Note: The comeback no one expected with a series I thought was finished in 2018 and a fic I started in 2019 finally finished lol

There’s a nagging worry in the back of his head that this is not normal friends-with-benefits behavior, but it is easily drowned out by Lance’s sleepy smile when he shifts again to face Keith. He hides another wide yawn in his shoulder.

“Those kids wore you out, clearly.” Keith observes, trying to fight back his own yawn.

Lance smiles fondly. “It was fun to see them, to go back and be with everyone for a while. But I’m really glad you were here when I got home.”

AO3: (X) Part 1 of the series: (X)

Keith looks away from his computer as his phone buzzes against his leg. Pidge sits across the room at her desk, muttering to herself as she readjusts the device’s calibration – again. Their project was supposed to be at least 80 percent theoretical, but Keith knew the moment he was paired with Pidge that option was thrown out the window.

He flips his phone over just as it vibrates again. There’s a text from Shiro, asking him for the third time about a shirt Shiro insists Keith stole and Keith insists Shiro just lost, and a snapchat from Lance. Dismissing the text notification, he opens snapchat.

Most of the picture is just of a bright blue sky above him, but Lance’s face peeks out from the bottom, at an extremely unflattering angle. The selfie is taken at chest level while Lance looks down at the camera. His hair is pushed under a backwards baseball cap with frayed stitching along the edge and there is, what appears to be, a sparkly butterfly sticker on his cheek. Above his head it reads:

don’t blow up my apartment while im gone, mullet. i live there.

Shaking his head, he taps away the message. Pidge still appears absorbed in her tinkering and doesn’t notice as he takes a blurry picture of her.

we’re not that irresponsible

It only takes a few seconds for Lance to reply, no longer bothering with pictures and just texting back.

HA! but seriously, hunk’s been sending me worried messages all weekend

…Hunk had seemed particularly anxious the last time Keith emerged from Pidge’s room for a drink.

hm…like an hour ago pidge thought she had gotten the laser to work for real and did seem a little maniacal…

Lance replies with a supremely unimpressed expression, made, of course, all the more effective by the butterfly sticker. Keith snorts, but also half-heartedly wonders how easily he could get away with saving a screenshot of the selfie. He just saved one last night, of Lance cuddling with his parent’s dog ruined only slightly by the caption insinuating the dog had better breath than Keith, but he brushed it off with a lie about trying to lock his phone and taking the screenshot accidentally. He’s not sure if Lance believed him then, but he definitely wouldn’t believe it two times in a row.

Pidge loudly clears her throat across the room. Startled, Keith dismisses the message, and nearly drops his phone in the process. When he looks up, Pidge is looking at him over the rim of her glasses, with one brow raised.

“…Yes?”

“How’s that report coming, Keith?”

He glances back at his computer, at the three and a half pages he had finished of their ten-page report. “Fine.”

“Hm.” Pidge looks away, jotting down some other measurements on a pad besides her. “And how’s your boyfriend?”

“He’s not my-” Keith starts before he gives up with a heavy sigh. It’s a waste of breath with her. “Lance thinks we’re going to blow up the apartment. Well I guess actually Hunk does, and he turned to Lance for help.”

Pidge rolls her eyes, muttering something under her breath about worry-warts and ridiculous roommates. Keith smiles at the, somehow, simultaneously exasperated but fond tone she uses and turns back to his computer, tucking his phone under his leg again. But it takes a while to focus on anything other than blue eyes and familiar, silly banter.

It’s nearly three and a half hours later, though it hardly feels like it, when Hunk knocks at the door, tempting them out of the room and their work-stupors with the promise of pizza, the heady aroma already spilling out from the kitchen. They settle in the living room, Pidge and Hunk on the couch with Keith on the floor in front of them, legs stretched out under the coffee table. Pidge is still complaining around mouthfuls of burning cheese that they were almost done, if Hunk had just waited a little while longer, but Hunk turns on the sci-fi series they’ve been watching together and within ten minutes into the episode her complaints have turned into an analysis of how the character’s spacesuits work.

Keith relaxes against the couch as their familiar chatter falls around him. He’s a little lost in what is happening in the show, they’re further than he’s been able to get on his own, but it’s nice to share it with them anyways, especially with the way Hunk laughs triumphantly when he guesses the ridiculous plot twist twenty minutes early and Pidge keeps comparing the characters to people they know with frightening accuracy.

It only takes them an episode and a half to completely demolish the pizza, but when the third one starts up in the queue, no one bothers to reach for the remote. Full of good food and only half-paying attention to the show, Keith can feel himself being lulled to sleep right there on the living room floor. He fights against the urge as much as he can, but the last thing he remembers is the upbeat opening starting for the next episode, and then suddenly the episode is ending as he jerks awake, knocking his knee on the underside of the table, hard.

After his unfortunate waking, he extracts himself from under the table, gathering up dirty plates, despite Hunk’s protest, and taking them into the kitchen – the moving helps wake him up, even if his knee still hurts like a bitch. The stove clock reads 7:03. He slips through the living room as another episode is starting and goes to their bathroom.

As he’s washing his hands, his phone buzzes with another text. He opens the text as he exits the room. It’s a picture from Adam, Shiro’s fiancé, of Shiro sitting on the floor of what Keith is pretty sure is their laundry room, head buried in his hands. There’s a very dusty pile of something next to him.

The text says: we found his shirt.

Keith leaves the text conversation, trying not to laugh. Considering all the trouble Shiro gave him, Keith feels like he should be at least mildly annoyed by this instead of amused.

He turns the doorknob to the room in front of him and swings it open before he even realizes what he’s doing. He freezes, looking in at Lance’s dark, empty room. Distracted, he had apparently been moving through the apartment on autopilot – straight to Lance’s room. Feeling like he’s breaking some kind of unspoken rule, he takes a few steps in. Lance’s bed is still a mess of blankets and pillows, and there’s piles of books and discarded shoes covering his floor. He’s only been gone a few days, but his absence feels so prominent, especially like this, Keith can’t help but feel like something is wrong.

He’s texting Lance before he can think better of it.

when are you coming back again?

Lance’s response is almost instantaneous.

why? missing me that much already, mullet?

Yes, Keith’s head or heart, or maybe both, shout.

no just wondering how much longer we get to enjoy this peace and quiet he says instead.

whatever, asshole …….tomorrow night

Keith silently but firmly tells himself to stop being so damn happy about this news as he slips his phone back into his pocket. He takes one last look at Lance’s room before stepping back out into the hall and pulling the door closed behind him.

He just barely manages to fight the telling smile off his face before he gets back to the living room.

 Keith crashes at their apartment for the night, on the couch. Hunk and Pidge both try to convince him that he could take Lance’s bed and Lance wouldn’t care, but Keith is fairly certain he wouldn’t get much sleep if he was in Lance’s room – even if he would be alone – and insists the couch is fine. He wakes up once around 5 or 6 in the morning as Hunk is getting ready for his opening shift at a local diner but otherwise sleeps well until about 10:30. He wanders into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee before going to roust Pidge. He doesn’t mind mornings much, but he learned very soon into their friendship that Pidge is very firmly a “night owl,” and has no interest in trying to deny her nature. She’s lying upside down on her bed when he gets to her room, and somehow managed to kick all of her blankets off of the bed, except one, which looks dangerously close to suffocating her.

He stands in the doorway for a moment, just staring at her. “How do you even manage this?”

“Mmphf.” Sleeping Pidge replies, very firmly.

“Right.” Keith pauses. “I’ll come back when the coffee’s done, actually.”

With a little extra time, Keith hops in the shower. As soon as he opens the bottle of shampoo, he recognizes the familiar, fresh scent as Lance’s soap. He’s a little surprised Lance left his favorite soap behind, even if he was just going to his family home for a few days. He also isn’t sure what to do, looking around the shower space for other soap. There’s plenty, and surely none of them would care either way if he used a little soap but…

Is he totally over thinking this? Absolutely.

Does that realization help him make a decision about which soap to use? Absolutely not.

What feels like ages, but is hopefully only a few minutes, passes before he finally convinces himself to stop being ridiculous and just use the damn shampoo. He just grabbed Lance’s first, it was a coincidence and if Pidge noticed later…well, she would just have to accept that.

…Right.

He washes up quickly after wasting who knows how long second-guessing his soap choices and leaves the bathroom to the smell of coffee slowly starting to fill the apartment.

He has to break the nonexistent, unspoken rule his brain has built up in his mind a second time, and trespasses across Lance’s room to find some spare clothes he’s left behind for overnight stays. He pulls on some clean boxers and his jeans from yesterday, but after he’s pulled the worn Altea University shirt over his head, he realizes its Lance shirt, not his. There’s a small hole starting in the bottom hem and the white letters are fading and cracked from excessive wear. It was folded in his drawers, so Keith is like…ninety percent certain it’s clean, but it still smells like Lance’s cologne. Or maybe it’s his lotion or laundry soap or bodywash, but between whatever lingering scent Lance has left on his clothes and the smell of his shampoo still obvious in Keith’s damp hair, he suddenly feels overwhelmed.

He hates how much he hates that Lance is gone.

It’s just a couple of days. Why is he such a disaster? They’re friends. When was the last time he missed Hunk or Pidge this much when they were gone? Even with their friends with benefits arrangement, what made Lance that special to him?

Actually, that was a can of worms he wasn’t really prepared to open just yet.

Keith makes a hasty retreat – a calm, completely normal walk out of one room to another if anyone asks – back to the kitchen for coffee. He pours a generous amount for both Pidge and himself, before he returns to Pidge’s room to finally wake her. He’s not exactly eager to spend another full day working on this project, but he wants to get it done, and he officially really needs the distraction.

It takes another hour, even with the promise of coffee, to pull Pidge out of bed, and she insists on showering “to feel like a real person” before they can get back to work on their project.

Keith has gotten as far as turning his laptop back on and opening their report, rereading the last few paragraphs to remember where he left off, when Pidge returns to her room in some leggings and a baggy t-shirt Keith is pretty sure belongs to either Lance or Matt.

“How about food first?” she suggests.

It’s not exactly the distraction he was looking for, but he shuts his laptop anyways, pushing it off his lap before she even finishes her sentence.

 Sal’s is a small 24-hour diner just outside of Altea's central campus that makes it a popular place for both students and professors. Sunday morning, it is practically bursting at the seams, but it’s got good food for reasonable prices and Hunk, Lance, and Pidge had become regulars even before Hunk got a job in the kitchen. Within a few months of becoming friends, Keith had been invited along enough times that the waitstaff began to recognize him too.

Their wait for a table is reasonable, all things considered, and then Keith and Pidge have only been at the table for maybe three minutes before their waitress, Flora, drops drinks off at the table with a promise to be back for their orders in just a minute. Her long, red pony tail swings wildly behind her as she flits around the small space.

They hadn’t ordered anything, but Flora had been there for a long time and was used to their group stopping in, especially on weekend mornings when Hunk was working. But sitting on the table in front of them is two coffee mugs, and a tall glass of apple juice.

Keith and Pidge both stare at it for a moment, before looking to each other. Keith has a feeling the juice is making him feel a whole lot more…things than it is Pidge.

“I guess she just assumed?” Pidge finally says after a moment and goes back to the menu, as if she hadn’t memorized it within the first three months of their visits.

Keith pulls out his phone and takes a picture of the juice, sending it to Lance with a text:

from flora

Lance’s response comes in a few minutes later, interspersed with at least a dozen crying emojis.

i cant believe u traitors went to sal’s w/o me. tell flora i love her and one of u better drink that. we don’t let apple juice go to waste in this house

i am not telling her that. but i will drink the juice for u

Flora comes back to the table before Lance’s next reply comes in. “Just your usual’s today?”

Pidge hums and haws over the decision a few times, like she does every time they come, before agreeing to her usual order. Though she asks for fresh fruit as well today, just to mix it up.

He can feel his phone buzz against his leg almost the entire time Pidge is ordering. And again a few more times as he confirms that he would like his usual order as well. “But, Lance isn’t with us today so…nothing for him.” Keith adds awkwardly at the end.

Flora blinks at him a few times, surprised, before she snaps her fingers as if suddenly remembering something. “Right. I remember Hunk mentioning one of his roommates was out of town for a few days. Sorry guys, I’m just so used to your trio, or just you and him,” she says to Keith, thankfully not seeing the way Pidge wiggles her eyebrows and makes kissy-faces at him for the aside. “I’ll take that juice back for you.”

“Oh no, that’s fine.” Keith says, moving the glass closer to him. “It’s already poured, we’ll drink it.”

Flora arches a brow, but doesn’t argue with him. She promises their food will be out shortly and leaves the table.

“I can’t believe Lance didn’t request you deliver any messages to her for him, or insist we eat his chocolate chip pancakes in his honor too.” Pidge says once she’s gone.

Keith pulls out his phone, flipping it around to show Pidge the twelve messages he got while they were ordering. “Oh, I’m sure he did somewhere in there.”

 It’s hard to get back to work on a full stomach, but they power through it. Their shared determination to not have to worry about the project after today deters the usual urge to distract each other. Still, progress is slow, and they’re still working when Hunk comes home from work and peeks in to check on them. They pass on lunch when Hunk asks after his shower, and give non-committal answers to his questions about dinner plans.

Keith is entirely unaware of time and date and hell maybe even location by the time he drags himself through the conclusion but he is bordering on ecstatic when he finally saves the document for the last time and looks up from the computer only for Pidge to look up from her own work and meet his eye a few seconds later.

“Done?”

He nods, and she gives an excited “whoop!” stumbling off her desk chair to throw herself on the bed besides him. “So I just need to add in my input and double-check the details match up, right?”

He nods again, and she immediately scrolls to the top of the document to start reading. “Oh!” she jumps up again, grabbing her laptop from the desk and the notebook she was working in besides it. “Do you want to double check the equations and make sure the experiment outline matches the order you have everything in the paper?”

He is relatively confident in Pidge’s work, but he agrees, nonetheless, and the two settle against each other in the twin bed to finish their work.

 Keith isn’t sure when he dozes off, he doesn’t even really remember falling asleep, but when he wakes up, it’s dark in Pidge’s room. Both of their computers are on her desk and he’s alone in her bed. He sits up, half-heartedly feeling around the blankets for his phone to check the time.

“C’mon Mullet, you really had to move right then?”

Keith about jumps out of his skin at the unexpected voice, though he’d vehemently deny it if asked. Lance is sitting backwards in Pidge’s desk chair, pushed close to the door. He lowers his phone, smirking at Keith’s startled expression.

“I guess the deer-in-the-headlights look is fun too, but I was really going to enjoy lording the drooling-all-over-Pidge’s-sheets picture over you.” Lance teases.

Keith’s heart brain is doing some kind of stupid, fluttery thing over the boy across the room that he is pointedly ignoring.

“Shut up.” Keith mutters, even as he hastily wipes at his mouth. There’s nothing there. Asshole. He pushes himself off the bed. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Lance presses a hand to his chest in fake offense. “Really? You sleep through my grand return and when you finally bother to wake up, that’s how you greet me?”

Keith crosses the room, folding his arms over his chest and summoning the most unimpressed expression he can muster. “You know what I meant.”

Lance doesn’t seem deterred by the new height difference between them, or Keith’s attitude, crossing his arms over the back of the chair and batting his eyelashes up at him cheekily. He’s wearing the same baseball hat from the picture he sent Keith yesterday, but he’s got it on in the right direction this time, making him look minorly less like a douchebag. The baggy zip-up, which may very well be Hunk’s, over a t-shirt with the sleeves cut off, and sweatpants isn’t really helping though.

“When did you get back?” Keith askes instead of commenting on his poor outfit choices.

Lance shrugs. “A little after five. Pidge said you started to doze off around four.” He adds before Keith can ask. “Hunk made stir fry for dinner.”

Taking that to mean Lance was actually sent here to wake him up for dinner, rather than simply coming to terrorize him because he was bored, Keith steps around him to leave. A moment later Lance stumbles off the chair after him, complaining all the way.

“Hey,” Lance calls after him.

Keith is already rolling his eyes as he turns around, assuming Lance has a few more jabs he wants to get out before they get to the kitchen, so he is wholly unprepared for Lance to hook a finger in the collar of his shirt and pull him close.

“Is this my shirt?”

It takes all of his self-control not to fly away from Lance’s hold, though the heat rising rapidly to his cheeks is probably giving away his embarrassment all the same. “Maybe? I just grabbed something from your drawers after my shower this morning.”

Lance has a look in his eyes that Keith recognizes as usually meaning something dangerous is in store for him. He leans in closer, stopping just before the bill of his hat brushes the top of Keith’s head. “Did you use my shampoo too?”

“I think you’re a little too obsessed with your things for someone wearing someone else’s hoodie.”

“Well I think you missed me while I was gone.”

Keith isn’t entirely sure who moves first, but one second they’re staring each other down daring the other to give in and the next he’s shoved Lance’s baseball cap off his head, burying his fingers in Lance’s messy hair while Lance’s hands have dropped to his waist, pulling him close with a bruising grip. Their kiss is uncoordinated and messy. Keith is ninety percent certain he was not the only one missing someone a stupid amount this weekend. His back hits the wall, and he faintly registers Pidge yelling something about her room from the other side of the apartment.

Lance rucks up his shirt, warm hands brushing over his sides, and Keith is dangerously close to wrapping his legs around his hips and saying fuck dinner.

They finally break apart for air and Lance laughs against his throat, the sensation sending shivers down his back. “I knew you missed me.”

“And what?” Keith asks breathlessly. “You were ambivalent about it all? I don’t think so. Not kissing like that.”

Lance pulls back to look at him with a surprisingly soft look. “I just wanted to hear you admit it,” he teases.

Normally, Keith would have a comeback for that, probably, but now he’s distracted as he runs his fingers through Lance’s bangs. “You have blue hair.”

Just the tips of his hair that are dyed, actually, not his whole head, he’s still surprised by the change. It seems a little silly, but it still looks good on him.

Lance, not one to be deterred by much, winks at him, striking a pose. “Hot, right? Rachel did it.”

“Yeah, it looks good.”

That does give Lance pause and he blinks at Keith and his easy admission a few times. “Er, well…we should probably go eat now. If just to reassure Pidge we aren’t defiling her room.”

 Dinner is great, as usual when Hunk cooks, and they sit in the living room with another show on in the background, but they fill most of the time talking about Lance’s trip and gossip in their department that Keith is somehow always unaware of.

It is well after eleven before conversation begins to fade and they start to disperse around the apartment. Keith is, maybe a little, embarrassed about it, but he doesn’t bother to hide his intentions to stay with Lance rather than going back to his own apartment now that the project is done. For once, Pidge and Hunk leave them be with minimal suggestive looks.

Considering the brief tryst in the hallway earlier, Keith isn’t entirely sure what to expect when they finally retire to Lance’s room, but Lance doesn’t seem to be in a particular rush to do anything. Keith shimmies out of his jeans and drops into bed while Lance puts on some kind of moisturizer. He strips down to his boxers after and Keith can see new, blue markings up and down his arms before Lance turns the light off. Predictably, a moment later there’s a crash and Lance swears. Keith leans over to turn on the lamp next to the bed. Lance is leaning against the footboard, rubbing his shin.

“What did you knock over this time?”

Lance sticks out his tongue. “Don’t worry about it. Move over.” He says. He doesn’t wait before he climbs over the end of the bed and flops down, half on top of Keith.

“I would have moved if you let me,” Keith says into his shoulder.

Lance hums in consideration before he shifts on the mattress. Keith lets him maneuver him around the bed, mostly curious as to what he’s doing, until they end up on their sides, legs tangled together and arms around each other. Lance’s head is pressed against his chest, and his hands are, conveniently, on his ass.

“Lance-”

“Shh,” Lance interrupts immediately. “I had to go a whole weekend without even being able to see this ass, give me a moment to enjoy it.”

Keith laughs despite himself, rolling his eyes. “You are ridiculous.”

Lance wiggles against him, sighing contently. “You like it.”

“Whatever.”

Absentmindedly, Keith runs a hand against Lance’s back, trailing nonsense patterns against his warm skin. Eventually, he looks down, just to make sure Lance hasn’t actually fallen asleep like that, and sees the blue drawings on his arm again.

“What is all over you?”

Lance lets go of him to roll onto his back and show off his arms. “After Rachel dyed my hair, Nadia and Sylvio wanted to match, but Lisa, their mom, wasn’t really thrilled with the idea, so we found these tattoo markers at the dollar store and they were washable, so we went kind of crazy.” Lance shifts so his side is up where the black outline of a shark tattooed into his waist is now black and blue. “They also colored in my tattoo.”

“Did you draw these?”

“Haha,” Lance elbows him in the side half-heartedly. “I drew the rocket ship on my wrist, and the constellations on my shoulder, if they’re still there, are from Veronica, but everything else is from Nadia and Sylvio. Oh, and Luis,” Lance points to a…something near his elbow.

“A flower?” Keith guesses.

Lance snorts. “A lion, according to him.”

“Not the most artistically inclined I’m assuming?”

Lance shakes his head. “Not at all. Nadia’s pretty good though,” he turns over his arm to show off a dog on his forearm. “That’s pretty damn good for a seven-year-old drawing on a moving canvas with dollar-store markers.”

They just spent the last few hours talking about this weekend with Hunk and Pidge in the living room, but Keith can’t help but ask more questions about his family and what they did over the weekend. He brushes Lance’s hair out of his face, and Lance settles deeper into his arms, waving his hands in the air as he talks about the piñata he had to fill for the party by himself, that was bigger than the birthday boy, and the balloon mishaps that had his mother ready to call the whole thing off more than once.

There’s a nagging worry in the back of his head that this is not normal friends-with-benefits behavior, but it is easily drowned out by Lance’s sleepy smile when he shifts again to face Keith.

“Did you guys have fun this weekend?”

Keith shrugs one shoulder. “As much fun as you can have the weekend before a Kolivan deadline.”

Lance grimaces sympathetically. “You finished everything though, right?”

“I think so. We were just checking each other’s work before I fell asleep. If there was more to do, I doubt Pidge would have let me sleep for long.”

Lance hides a wide yawn in his shoulder. “That’s good,” he tries to say, only to break off half-way through into another yawn.

“Those kids wore you out, clearly.” Keith observes, trying to fight back his own yawn.

Lance smiles fondly. “It was fun to see them, to go back and be with everyone for a while. But I’m really glad you were here when I got home.”

The admittance is so quiet in the still room, and almost immediately drowned out by the way Keith’s pulse races, blood roaring in his ears.

Lance had closed his eyes, but he opens them again and looks up at him curiously. Keith knows he has to be able to hear the erratic beating of his heart. He wonders if Lance is even remotely aware of how many lines they’ve crossed in the period of their relationship, if he thinks at all about how little like fuck-buddies they behave when they spend nights wrapped in each other’s arms saying soft things and doing nothing else and if it affects him at all or if this is just how he is casually intimate with everyone. And he wonders why he hates that idea so much.

“Can I kiss you?” Keith asks. It’s usually Lance’s question, but for once, Keith can’t help but ask, ignoring, for now, how overwhelmed he is.

Surprisingly, Lance is quiet, and just nods his agreement, watching Keith with wide eyes.

The kiss now is nothing like the ones they shared before dinner, slow and gentle where the others were rushed and near-frantic. Keith wraps both arms around Lance’s waist, and Lance cradles his face with one hand, threading his other hand through Keith’s hair.

“Good night,” Keith whispers against his lips as they break apart feeling like he’s doing something unbelievably stupid even as the words come.

Lance presses one more quick, closed-mouth kiss against his lips. “Good night.”

Keith flips off the bedside table lamp, dousing them in darkness.

He isn’t sure how long they lay in the dark before Lance finally relaxes and falls asleep, but it feels like at least another hour before Keith admits to himself, he can’t sleep yet and carefully extracts himself from the bed. Lance makes a quiet noise of displeasure in his sleep, but easily stretches out, taking up the empty space and doesn’t wake up.

Keith goes out into the hallway, thinking he’ll just go to the living room and calm down but a light shines through the crack of Pidge’s closed door and he finds himself drawn there instead. He knocks once and Pidge opens the door immediately, looking around the hall almost alarmed.

“Keith? What’s wrong? It’s almost four in the morn-”

“Pidge, I think I love him.” Keith interrupts. “I think I’m in love.”

[whirlybirbs]

“ so , how does it feel to know me? a blessing , isn’t it? “ with hopper? please!

—-  SO MUCH FOR THAT  ;

summary: hopper interrupts a home invasion. cue the bullets, russians, injuries, freak-out’s... everything you didn’t want. date night, ruined.word count: 2.2kpairing: hopper x teacher!reader, from my fic moonrise radio.a/n: we love some good ol’ action to further the drabble plot machine.

Hopper knows something’s not right -- he can feel it in his gut, sitting there like hot, molten piece of lead that makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand upright. 

It’s a feeling he’s never really gotten used to. Even after Vietnam, even after all those years working homicide in New York, even after The Upside Down, the feeling still makes his skin crawl. It’s one that can only really be described as dread -- a deeply-rooted recognition of something being wrong. 

He knocks on your front door again, only to be met with silence.

His watch reads 6:43pm.

If Jim knows anything, it’s that you’re not standing him up -- especially when you’d excitedly accept his offer for the ride to the drive-in’s. You’d been nothing but honest and kind and sweet and pretty and an absolute dream, and even though doubt bites at his mind, Jim Hopper pushes it far away.

He decides to snoop.

Snooping is what he does best. 

He leans, peaking around through the front window and spies nothing out of place, really. The lights are off, as if no one’s home, but your faithful jet-black Camaro sits a few feet behind him in the drive-way to contradict that possibility... unless someone came along and picked you up? 

Hm.

Then, something catches his attention.

Light flickers, blue and inky black, across the window in nothing more than a passing reflection. 

Over the couch, your television sits.

It’s on.

Jim chews his lip. 

He has two options in that moment -- walk away, decide this was maybe never meant to be, go home, and order take-out from King Chef. Or, he can reach for that doorknob and hope you don’t bear spray him again. 

He exhales, planting his hands on his hips. 

Then he sees the boot mark right below the deadbolt.

His eyes widen in realization.

There’s no question in his mind when he doubles back to his Blazer and pulls out a handgun from the center console -- he’s fast to check off the safety and pull the hammer back; he bites his tongue, wishing he’d just trusted his fuckin’ gut from the get-go.

The door is unlocked.

It swings open without a sound.

The T.V. is loud -- blaring some MTV music video that echoes off the walls of the house. It’s late now, nearly 7pm, and the sun has crept below the hills of Hawkins and drenched your home in all types of shadows. Jim’s footfalls are quiet as they can be as he raises his gun and begins to move through the home.

He stops short at the couch, noting the remote on the floor feet away and the mess of blankets dragged from the pastel pink sofa. 

In front of the television, that old radio you’d first heard those faux-Russian communique's on lays. 

It’s smashed to smithereens.

Hopper turns, then, and sees you in the kitchen.

Your eyes are pulled wider than a mile in fear as you rock in the high-back chair, trying desperately to scream something, but it comes out as nothing more than a muffled cry. There’s a tight strip of black duct tape along your mouth, a matching strip across your torso and hips. 

If there’s anything Jim’s learned from moments like these, it’s that your brain never really understands what’s going on until it’s too late.

In his circumstance, he doesn’t realize what’s going on until he’s being charged by a man a little smaller than himself, decked in all black, screaming in a language that sets off thirty thousand red flags in his head. He sees the knife first -- Jim doesn’t even have time to react when he’s tackled into the sofa. 

His gun clatters across the foyer, sliding onto the patterned linoleum of your kitchen floor.

Your eyes widen, trained on the handgun sitting feet from you. 

This has not been a good hour.

When the doorbell had rung at 5:30, you’d excitedly chirped that Hop was early for your date -- not that you minded -- before you were suddenly being forced backwards at knife-point by two men screaming in Slavic tongues. 

They’d then, unceremoniously, searched the house for that damn radio after binding you to the kitchen chair and interrogating you about some Energy Department in the most broken English you’ve heard in a while.

On MTV, Bonnie Tyler’s Holding Out For a Hero begins to play.

And now, here you are, hopping up and down in this fuckin’ chair, trying to get closer to the gun as the two grown men in your living room recreate Street Fighter and make quick work on destroying all of your furniture. 

Almost there.

Sqreeak, sqreaak, sqreaak. 

Jim takes a nasty upper cut to the jaw and hits the floor so hard the whole house shakes. 

You freeze, panic lighting up in your chest as the assailant leaps onto him -- in a well-timed moment of mis-calculation, you forget about the lip in the kitchen and suddenly, you and the chair are toppling to the ground. The sound is loud, followed by your muffle groan of pain, and it sends the Russian’s head snapping to the sound. 

Jim plants a hard kick to the guy’s groin, sending him into a feeble curl as Jim rolls away, hair wild and nose bleeding profusely. He’s fast to punch the guy while he’s down, absolutely wailing on him.

You’re kicking now, trying to get Jim’s fuckin’ attention -- and only once the man before his feet has stilled completely that Hop rises from the ground and moves into the kitchen, knife in his hand.

“MOO!” is the sound coming from your mouth as Hop plucks you and the chair up, squinting at you, “MERE’S MOO!”

His lips part and his brows knot.

“Moo...?”

You serve him a look and he’s fast to rip the duct tape from your nose and mouth, wincing slightly as you curse and hiss, eyes ringed with make-up from the tears that had gathered there -- you speak so quick, Jim has to gawk.

“There’s two,” you gasp for air, “Jim, Jim, get my hands free --”

“You gotta be fuckin’ kidding --”

He saws at the tape. 

Then the footsteps start from the stairwell. 

You both freeze, gazes connecting.

Back door, you mouth.

Jim nods.

You claw at the tape on your ankles, jaw clenching as you stand -- Jim’s hands are on you in an instant, worry lighting up his face; he’s quick to note the black bruise forming around your left eye and up your cheek. 

You’re fast to snatch up the gun by his feet and hand it to him, though, moving past the fear in your chest and gesturing for him to follow you towards the back sliding door. 

“дерьмо!” you hear from the living room, rolling from the larger Russian’s tongue in a carnal bellow, “вернитесь сюда!”

You, then, unceremoniously shove Jim Hopper off your back deck.

You follow, hitting the soft grass with a groan as gunfire suddenly lights up the back of the house and the windows shatter, raining down through the slats in the wood -- for a moment, you both roll in pain; but it doesn’t last. 

“Time t’ go!”

“No shit, Jim!”

He snatches your hand, dragging you from the grass and around the house -- you both break into a sprint towards Hop’s cruiser, ignoring the man who’s now in chase.

Jim muscles the gun from his waistband and chucks you the keys. “Drive!”

You catch them, by some grace, and fumble to find the ignition key on the ring as Jim lays down fire that seems to not phase the huge Russsian coming right at him in a ski-mask. 

“Shit, shit, shit shit shit shit, shit shit --”

“Ты мертв!”

“FUCK OFF!”

Your hands are shaking, keys jingling as you try each and every fucking one. Anger flares in your face, eyes darting to Jim on the front lawn popping off rounds.

“Jim, what key!?”

“GOLD!”

You finally get the key, the Blazer roars alive.

The second Jim’s ass is in the seat, you floor it. 

You skirt around the cul-de-sac as gunfire ricochets off the side of the car, your own scream fading into the peel-out as Jim curses and flies into the side of the door. An apology flies from your lips as you put the pedal to the metal and fly out of your street, onto the main road. 

Jim’s twisted around the back of the seat, eyes set on the fading house and figure standing on your front lawn. He doesn’t even try to follow.

“Where should I go?” you ask, panic hitched in your tone.

“Starcourt,” Jim barks without hesitation.

“What?!” you cry, flinging your head around to look at him with an exasperated look, “What the hell do you mean, Starcourt?!”

“Just,” Jim seethes, jaw set tight, “Trust me --”

“You said --” you screech, finger raising as you head down the main straight in town at 80mph, “You said that... that those communications are fake!”

“Yeah,” Jim snaps, “They are!”

“Oh, okay, great, Jim, then why don’t you explain to me why the fuck I was just bound and gagged in my own kitchen! By two men! WHO DON’T EVEN SPEAK ENGLISH --”

“Murph’, calm down --”

“No! No, nope, no,” you shove his arm, “Do not tell me to calm down, Jim Hopper --”

His mouth snaps shut and he turns, sitting forward and exhaling tightly through his nose. His eyes flutter shut as he speaks, trying to imitate the same calmness he wish he had.

“I’m sorry.”

“I am freaking out --” your voice cracks and you regret it immediate, facade of fearlessness cracking under the sudden dive in your adrenaline. 

Jim’s face softens, finally getting a good look at you. You look like hell. He’s sure he does, too, after the royal beat down he was served by Svedka in your living room. His hands move, carding through the blood matted tendrils by your temple. There’s a mean gash along your hairline that’s slowed up. The blood flakes away and Jim can’t help but wish he’d fuckin’ got to your house sooner. 

“Hey, hey,” he calls, voice soft, “Look at me.”

You blink his way. You shrink.

The tears making your eyes swim break his whole heart on sight. Your lip quivers. Jim feels like he’s been punched in the gut. When you speak, your voice is as meek as a mouse.

“... That was really scary.”

“It’s over,” Hop says confidently, “Over. We’re going to go see the people who can make sure it’s over.”

“The Scoops Ahoy people?” you ask weakly through an attempt at a laugh.

Jim exhales softly in a chuckle, leaning to press a firm kiss to the side of your head. “Yeah, sweetie, you could say that.”

The rest of the ride is relatively quiet, filled by your sniffles and Jim turning to peek over his shoulder ever few minutes. When you finally pull up to the bustling Starcourt, you’re surprised when Jim gestures to the back and points.

“Head to the loading area.”

You squint, but follow the direction.

Rounding the parking lot, you see hordes of folks coming in for some Sunday evening shopping -- lone teens and families alike. The neon of the store fronts bounce off the windshield in slivers of purple and green. 

Suddenly, as if out of no where, a gate appears around the back of the building and you’re pulled to a stop by four guards in Starcourt Mall gear. Jim’s face pulls into a heavy frown as he rolls down his window, flashing some sort of identification in his fold-out wallet. 

“I’m here to see Owens, it’s an emergency --”

“And who the hell is she?”

Jim’s eyes narrow. You wring your hands on the steering wheel.

“... Officer Collins, is it?” Hop says slowly, “Do you see the bullet holes in the side of my cruiser?”

Silence flies between the four of them.

“And do you see the injuries on both myself and the lady driving?”

More silence.

“And did you not hear me say,” his voice raises an octave, vein in his neck popping as he begins to scream, “That this is an emergency?!”

The gate lifts with a BRRZZZZT. 

And that’s how you find yourself in a very sterile interrogation room, pacing back and forth and back and forth for what feels like hours. It’s horrible -- the lights buzz and flicker fast enough to give you an even worse headache than the head injury does and it’s cold and you just wanted to go see a damn movie with Jim. Maybe kiss a little, fool around, have fun. 

But, no. Here you are.

Finally, after an hour and a half, the door opens mid-conversation.

Jim is looming behind an older man.

They both look apologetic.

“And this must be our new Bond Girl, huh?”

“In the flesh,” Jim rumbles, “Murph’, this is Dr. Sam Owens. He’s a friend.”

You narrow your eyes. The man offers his hand and you shake it, speaking slowly. “I guess Jim and I are gonna miss our double feature, huh?”

“I’m afraid so, Miss Murphy,” he says, gesturing to the table and chair in the center of the room, “Now, why don’t you tell me about those men that broke into your home?”

He pulls the chair out for you.

You sigh.

This is going to be a long night. 

So much for that date.

[jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets]

Love Undercover - Ch 4

Title: Love Undercover

Fandom: CSI: Las Vegas

Pairing: Greg Sanders x Nick Stokes

Rating: Mature

Summary:  In part one of this series, Nick and Greg get sent on a special undercover mission by Grissom and Brass, an undercover mission as a couple at an all exclusive couples resort. Their mission is to find their targets and keep them safe while maintaining the illusion that they are a happily married couple, but they may end up finding more then they bargained for while at Lovers Lane Resort.

AO3

Masterlist 

*** My works are not to be posted on any sites without my permission! Please and thanks!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 Chapter Four

    Once they were finished with the massages, both of them feeling amazing afterwards, they walked out with James and Oliver, and stood outside.

     The four of them stood silently in a group for a few minutes before James was the first one to speak, “Wow,” he said, pulling Oliver closer to him, “I feel great.”

     “I would be perfectly fine with a nap right now,” Greg sighed and leaned on Nick, “or another massage.”

     The four chuckled and Nick rubbed a hand up his back, “A promise is a promise, Darlin’.”

     “And I will be holding you to that,” Greg smiled and pushed himself closer to Nick, “so, would you guys like to join us for another activity?”

     “Sure,” Oliver reached into James’s back pocket and grabbed the itinerary, scanning it quickly, “instead of another activity, since we are all still so relaxed from the massages, why don't we walk one of the hiking trails?” 

     “Yeah,I'd love a walk,'' Nick tightened his arm around Greg’s waist and started making his way towards the trails with James and Oliver right beside them.

~~~~~~~~~~~

     They had been walking for just about an hour now, James and Oliver were slightly ahead of them, and Greg was starting to get used to the feeling of Nick's hand in his. The trail was peaceful, a nice breeze was blowing through keeping them cool, and he couldn't help but think how he would love to get used to this. To just being with Nick… loving Nick.

     “Hey, Greg.” he hummed and turned to Nick, snapping out of his thoughts. “How come you picked tomorrow as our anniversary date? Not that I'm mad, but I was just wondering why specifically tomorrow?” 

     “Well,” he drawled with a slight blush creeping up his cheeks, “if you think about it, in a way, it kind of is.”

     Nick stopped walking for a second, tilting his head as he turned back and continued walking, “What do you mean?”

     “October 6, 2000, three years ago. It was my first day on the job in the labs, and-”

      “The first day we met,” Nick nodded and laughed, “I remember seeing you for the first time. You were late, very classy for your first day of work, and came barreling into the break room looking for Grissom.”

     Greg laughed so hard he nearly snorted, “And I found him.”

     “Oh, you found him alright,” Nick had to stop walking, turning to face Greg with a huge smile on his face, “with your lab coat on backwards, clipboard upside down, and somehow you had managed to get cream cheese from your bagel in your hair. It was the best day of my life.”

     “And the worst day of mine!” Greg slapped his arm playfully, “I thought I was going to die of embarrassment. And Grissom just walked over to me and picked the cream cheese out of my hair, then walked away.”

     “Oh,” Nick was nearly doubled over laughing now, “oh, it was hilarious, but also very cute.”

     “Cute?” 

     “Yeah,” Nick settled a bit, his laughs tuning into a light chuckle, “it was very cute.”

     Greg eyed him for a moment before adding with a smirk, “You know, Nick, that's not the first time you've complimented me on this trip.”

     Nick raised his brows, then moved closer and took Greg’s other hand, holding them between them, “Well, Greg, I-”

     “Hey, guys!” They both turned and saw Oliver waving them down, stopping Nick from finishing whatever he was about to say. “Come and take a picture, James is setting up his tripod.”

     “Sure thing, guys,” Nick waved back and then led Greg over, leaving him curious about the end of that sentence.

     “All set,” James said as they reached them and they stood in front of the camera, “should we do a nice one first?”

     They all nodded and stood close together, both couples wrapped together for a nice picture. Next up was a funny one in which James suddenly dipped Oliver as the shutter was going off and Nick grabbed Greg for a nuggie. Next up, was something a little harder for the two of them though.

     “How about a kiss picture?!” Oliver clapped his hands together and that was the exact moment that Greg’s heart decided to relocate to his feet.

     He turned into Nick with wide panicked eyes and whispered, “What do we do?!”

     “We knew this might be a possibility,” Nick tried to calm him with soothing hands on his shoulders, “and I don't really see a way around it.”

     “Maybe we can think up an excuse, what if I tell him I have a cold sore?”

     “I…” Nick looked at Greg with what Greg could only describe as hurt, “Is it really that bad to even think about kissing me?”

     Greg was speechless, all he could do was choke out half a syllable. That's not what he had meant at all, in fact, he had assumed he was doing Nick the favor by offering up an excuse.

     “You guys ready?” James asked, arms around Oliver, “Once you're good I'll set the camera.”

     Nick sighed then, and turned away from Greg, “I don't think we can do this one guys, Greg’s got a col-”

     “No! No, were good to go,” Nick looked to Greg with a raised brow, “cold sores all cleared up now, Honey, no need to worry.”

     “Alright,” James said, “five seconds starting now,” and set the camera then got into position with Oliver.

     Nick turned to Greg and held his hands out to rest on his waist, but they ended up just hovering there instead, until Greg took them and placed them where they belonged. 

     “I thought…” he began, but Greg stopped him and put his hands around Nick's neck, pulling him a bit closer.

     “That's not what I meant,” he shook his head, playing with the hairs at the nape of Nick's neck, “not even close.”

     And then he pulled Nick in all the way. Their lips pressed together in a perfect kiss. Soft, sweet, slow. They fit together like a puzzle, like soul mates, and that's exactly what it felt like. It felt like this is where they were both meant to be, where they belonged. 

     They heard the camera go off somewhere in the distance but found they really didn't want to pull apart. Nick instead pulled Greg closer, and Greg sighed against Nick's lips giving him the perfect chance to slip his tongue into his mouth. Greg reciprocated, tilting his head to allow Nick better access, and joining Nick's tongue with his own in a slow waltz. 

     “Hello?!” Giggles from behind Nick had them both slowly coming back to reality, and much to their disliking, pulling apart to turn to the other couple with sheepish looks, “Guys, I know it's your anniversary but whoo, I didn't think it could get any hotter than it already was in Vegas, but I have been proven wrong.”

     The two just shyly walked over to look over Oliver's shoulder as he sifted through the pictures they just took, they were great pictures they had to admit, but both of them had a sweet spot for the last one in particular.

     “Hey, if I give you my number, can you send me those?” Nick asked.

     “Yeah, definitely.”

     After the quick exchange of numbers, the couples were off again. But this time instead of holding his hand out for Greg to take, he wrapped his arm tightly around him and pulled him right up against his side, Greg settling in with his hand on Nick's chest.

~~~~~~~~~~~

     The two couples spent the rest of the day together, finding that they did all get along quite well. By the time dinner came they were all starving and couldn't wait to get their hands on whatever food the resort was serving them tonight. 

     They were all pleased to see that it was set up like a buffet and there was so much to choose from. Soups, pastas, and salads were set up at one end, and on the other it seemed tonight's main course was roast beef, veggies, and mashed potatoes. Greg's mouth was watering just at the smell of the food hall.

     “If you guys wanna grab us a table, James and I can grab some plates?” 

     Greg nodded, “Yeah, we can do that.”

     “Okay, be back in a minute, Sweetie.” That was a new one, Greg thought, but didn't have much time to think about it when his face was being lifted by Nick’s fingers on his chin, and brought in for another lingering kiss. 

     When Nick pulled back he stayed just a breath away from Greg’s lips for a moment, seeming to be contemplating the situation, before just smiling and leaving with James.

     Greg shook himself back to reality and turned to join Oliver in the hunt for an open table. It took a few minutes, but they finally managed to find one near the back and hoped that Nick and James would be able to find them when they came back with the food. 

     They sat facing the buffet so they could keep an eye out for them coming back, and Oliver decided to ask, “So, how did you and Nick get together?”

     “Uh…” Shit, they hadn't exactly narrowed down that story yet. “We-we met at college.”

     “You're a vet tech and Nick’s an accountant right?” Greg nodded stiffly, “Did you have a class together? Mutual friend set you up?”

     “Uh, yes! Yeah, a friend of ours set us up, his name is Gil. Actually,” Greg chuckled thinking he might as well use it cuz it did technically happen, “When I first met Nick, I had cream cheese in my hair. I was late for a class earlier that morning and somehow managed to get cream cheese from my bagel all over myself.”

     “What a cute story!”

     Greg nodded and ran a hand through her hair, “How about you and James? How did you two meet?”

     “Well, it wasn't as cute as you and Nick. It was as simple as our parents knew each other through work. James’s dad is a judge and my mom’s a cop,” he shrugged, “last year my mom was working a case that involved some old convicts James's dad had put away in the past. Once the case was over my mom invited James's family over for dinner as a thank you for helping her out, and we started talking, and soon after started seeing each other. Pretty simple.”

     “Still cute though,” he smiled.

     “Yall talking about me?” Nick asked as he and James found the table, and placed their trays down.

     “Actually we were,” Greg smiled up at Nick as he placed a full plate in front of him then sat down beside him, “I was telling Oliver about how we met at college.”

     Nick laughed and reached up to run a hand through Greg's hair, “The cream cheese thing?”

     Greg was so hoping Nick would jump to the same story as him, and thankfully they seemed to be on the same wavelength, “Yep!”

     “Yeah,” Nick sighed as he ran a thumb over Greg’s cheek then pulled away to grab his fork, “it was the moment I fell in love with him.”

     “That's so sweet,” James answered, pulling up his own chair, “it was also love at first sight for me and Oliver. Thankfully our parents worked together for a few months or else we would have never met.”

     “And thankfully our friend Gil was kind enough to set us up,” Greg said and leaned in towards Nick, “or else we never would have gotten together.”

     “Well, I love the fact that we are all a bunch of sappy cheese balls,” Oliver laughed, grabbing his fork, “but I'm starving, so we can pick up this lovely conversation later, and let's dig in. This looks like it's going to be amazing!”

     The other three agreed and very quickly joined Oliver in eating what was probably the best meal they had ever had.

~~~~~~~~~~~

     The resort had finished the night by serving ice cream for dessert, and once they were full the two couples left the hall together and walked back towards their cabins. 

     The evening cooled the temperature a little bit, giving the four boys a little relief from the regular Vegas heat. Grasshoppers and crickets could be heard playing their songs under the almost full moon, and they couldn't help thinking that it was the perfect end to a great day. 

     “Well, this is us,” James said, stopping them in front of one of the cabins.

     “What do you guys say to spending the day together again tomorrow?” Oliver asked, a hopeful hint to his tone.

     “We’d love to,” Greg smiled, thankful that they seemed to like them, making staying close to them for the detail easier then he had hoped, “you have Nick’s number, so why don't you give us a call when you're ready tomorrow and we can chose a few activities for the day?”

     “Sounds like a plan.” They both waved and James held the door open for Oliver as they went inside. “Good night, guys.”

     “Good night.” They answered back, and once the two were safely inside their cabin, Nick and Greg made their way to theirs.

     They walked inside, exhausted in more ways than one from the day's events. Greg let go of Nick's hand and walked over to the bed, plopping back on it with a sigh, while Nick hovered by the door shifting on his feet. 

     “Hey, Greg.” He hummed, not lifting himself from the bed. “I uh… I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable today with the whole kiss thing. You didn't have to-”

     “No, Nick,” he shot up this time, “I wasn't uncomfortable, actually I… I was more worried that you would be the one who was uncomfortable, because I wanted to. Kiss you, I mean.”

     “You did?” Nick perked up and moved away from the doorway.

     “I… yeah, I did,” Greg rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, “and since we're being honest, it's not the first time I've wanted to.”

     “I…” Nick was suddenly flushed and only able to stutter, so Greg stood and slowly walked over to him.

     “And if I'm being really honest,” he said, reaching Nick and running a hand up his chest to rest at the base of his neck, “I want to do it again.”

     Nick stood stunned, he wasn't sure how long he was like that, but it was long enough that Greg started pulling back with a horrified look on his face. He managed to snap out of it and grabbed Greg by the waist before he could get too far away from him, and pulled him back flush against his chest. He bumped his nose against Greg’s, closing his eyes with a sigh as he said, “I can help with that,” and leaned down to kiss Greg with as much passion as he could muster.

     One step at a time Nick slowly walked them backwards as they continued kissing, never once breaking apart, and laid Greg gently back on the bed. He shifted them up to the pillows and laid them on their sides. They continued kissing, exploring, eventually ridding each other of their shirts, pants soon to follow. They laid there in their boxers, kissing and touching long into the night, before eventually they couldn't keep their eyes open any longer, and they fell asleep wrapped together, lips still touching in a gentle kiss.

~~~~~~~~~~~

                              PREVIOUS              NEXT

Tags: @panchostokes @greggonpancho @cadenceh2o