#partially because he needs to hide embrace's tracks

[yellow-rose-embalmer]

Aesop jolts ever so slightly at the thought, being dumped goodness knows where without ceremony. Then again, he would probably be more able to get up afterward than he is right now... but it is still a worrying thought, to be left behind while unconscious and defenseless.

It takes him a moment to visualize the two positions. It takes significantly less time for him to make a decision. "...arms, please. I would not like to break your back... or make a bigger spectacle than necessary." Dropping an entire man would certainly cause a fuss. And two of them in a pile further so. The appearance change does help... but they will still look like fools, as opposed to whatever people may have thought before. (He is not prepared to find out.)

( @yellow-rose-embalmer )

Aesop arrives, holding himself upright as ever, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath before properly approaching. "...I think enough time has passed." He decides not to mention that it has only been a few days since the last meeting. He also chooses to ignore that he did not fully understand the instructions he was given, to wait until he'd cleared his head somewhat. What he did do, was hand over a letter, carefully folded and sealed, handwriting clearly measured, as if the words were considered before writing them down. "I believe something with as much weight as what you had given me previously warrants a proper response... take as long as you need." Once the paper is taken, Aesop folds his hands in front of him and waits.

[Eternity is a long time to wait, I more than know that. Even if I have not existed within it, it is what I have learned to deal with. I will not pretend to know your situation, I will not pretend I do not wish for you to finally rest, but... not looking for allies, yet not wanting to be alone. It is hard for me to separate friends and allies, but... I suppose someone outside of everything you have would be pleasant.

I have learned of many belief systems, but... I personally struggle to see luck as much of a factor. We have much in common, yes, but... who is to say that is entirely good? I had to pause when you described me as 'disillusioned', but... it makes sense. Regrettably. Perhaps I thought that with how little I had known you and how I had been expected to act around those of your status, everything could be taken away easily. I was also too eager to receive the title of 'friend', with how little I had heard it, even if I knew nothing of what lay within.

I do not know if my head is as clear as you would like, but... I do not wish to make you wait forever. You said eternity is too long to spend alone, after all.]

[rafeandonlyrafe]

kinktober: guns

words: 2.5k

warnings: 18+ only!, smut, gun kink, p in v sex, unprotected bc dont be fcking dumb!, hand kink as well kind of, f receiving oral and handjob, blowjob, being fucked by the gun (silencer), mild degradation but also praise, mentions of drug dealing, somehow still soft rafe idk yall im unable to write rafe being anything but a softie

taglist: @drewstarkeysbae @thelomlisrafecameron @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @slut4drudy @drewsbabygirll @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks

your eyes widen at the glint of black metal in the low lighting, watching the way rafe works the rag over the piece. you control your gasp when you realize what it is that you’re holding, but you can’t help but take a step back in shock. 

you stumble, not realizing how close you were to the hallway table that decorates your home. rafe looks up at the noise, his eyes meeting yours. you can’t tell what emotion crosses his face. he simply sets the handgun down on the coffee table, still partially disassembled.

“rafe-” you begin, but you don’t have the words to finish as he stands up, stalking over to you, his usually comforting figure suddenly imposing when shrouded in the darkness of night.

“baby.” rafe says softly, taking your face in his large hands. “what are you doing awake?” “i-i heard you come in, and i waited for you to come lay down and when you didn’t i came to check on you.” your voice is barely above a whisper, but in the silence of your house, rafe hears you clear as day. he stands still, and you take the moment to apologize, “i’m sorry.”

rafe lets out a deep breath, his face reading the guilt of your apology. “it’s okay.” he presses his lips to your forehead, wrapping his arms around your shoulders as he holds you to him. it takes you a beat, but you wrap your arms around his waist in a tight embrace.

“come here.” rafe says after a moment, sliding his hand down your back and leading you into the living room instead of hiding in the hallway. you take cautious steps, eyes on the disassembled gun on the table. 

“sit down.” rafe keeps his voice gentle, but it’s a command, not a request. you sit down on the couch, and rafe slides next to you. he gives you a moment to look at the pieces of metal on the table. 

you know why rafe has a gun. he tries to keep that part of his life silent, but you know he helps run the drug scene on the islands of the outer banks. you’ve never been exposed to the violent nature of what he does but you’ve helped him count money and sort packages. he protects you when it comes to the actual sale, you haven’t even met one of his clients, at least not that you know of.

“it’s okay rafe, i knew you had a gun.” you say. you’ve seen him discreetly tuck it into his waistband when you’ve been out, and did not fail to notice the way he keeps it on his bedside table when he thinks it’s too dark for you to see at night.

“but you haven’t really seen it before baby.” rafe picks up what looks to be the frame of the gun, and he turns it over, showing you all the different sides before placing it on your lap. he gives a nod of your head and you pick it up, surprised that the disassembled part is still so heavy.

“should i- should i learn how to…?” you ask, not having the heart to tell him that you want to, because if anything happens to rafe, you want to be able to protect him as well, even though he doesn’t need it.

“if you want to, i’ll teach you.” rafe presses a kiss to your cheek, taking the metal back out of your hand. he begins to explain the different pieces of the gun and what they do as he reassembles it. your eyes track the movements of his hands, his slender fingers moving each part into place. you bite your lip and press your thighs together, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by rafe.

“are you turned on, princess?” he asks, no judgment in his voice, rather fascination from how you, his sweet girlfriend, can be so turned on by his gun as he sets it back down on the table.

“no!” you squeal, which just gives you away even more. “pants off.” rafe commands, and you know better than to go against him. you stand up off the couch for a millisecond to shove your pants down to your ankles then sit back down, keeping your thighs locked closed together.

“that is not what i meant, and you know it.” rafe commands, placing his hands on your waist and twisting you so you’re facing him. “if you’re not going to be good, i’m just going to have to do this myself.” he guides you backwards so you’re laying your head against the arm of the couch. he takes one ankle and slides it off the edge of the cushion while moving the other one to rest against the back of the couch, spreading you open wide.

“are you still going to deny being turned on?” he asks, eyes on your underwear sticking to your pussy, wet patch clearly visible.

you smartly decide to stay quiet, and rafe gives a little hum of approval at your choice to no longer continue to deny, knowing the amounts of pleasure he can bring you as he pushes his thumb over where he knows your clit is, not wasting any time as he rubs it over the material.

you let out a moan, back arching off the couch as he touches you. all tiredness you previously felt from suddenly waking up in the middle of the night is going.

rafe smiles down at you, seeing his girl so easily and quickly thrown into pleasure just with one of his fingers. he moves faster, watching the wet patch grow even bigger. he drags his thumb down, pressing against the spot until his thumb presses slightly into your hole, the fabric of your underwear still acting as a barrier.

“n-no, let me take them off, please.” you beg, but it doesn’t dissuade from doing exactly what you expected, gripping your underwear with both hands and literally tearing them straight down the center like the material was tissue paper. 

you grumble something about liking that pair, and rafe calms you by pressing a kiss to your knee that’s hooked over the side of the couch. “i’ll buy you another pair.”

he kisses down your thigh, occasionally nipping at your skin until he reaches your cunt, taking a deep inhale of your scent before sticking his tongue out, lapping at your slickness as he gathers it all onto his tongue.

you try your best to keep your hips still, thighs already burning slightly from being spread so wide. you moan rafes name as his tongue slides up away from your hole and over your clit, flicking repeatedly over the sensitive bud before pulling back far too early.

you watch as rafe picks the gun up off the table, making your eyes go wide.

“my sweet princess, turned on by my gun.” he turns it over in his hand, and you don’t fail to notice that he’s left several parts on the table, probably whatever interior mechanism that makes it actually fire so his toying with it remains safe.

“who would have known that the innocent good girl i first starting dating would turn into such a slut?” he grabs the silencer off the table, slotting it onto the end of the gun. your eyes watch in fascination at his movements.

“my own personal whore. you’d let me do anything to you, wouldn’t you?” rafe questions, running the tip of the silencer against your thigh, slowly dragging it closer to your center.

“you’d even let me fuck you with my gun.” his words make you gasp, coupled by the smooth metal of the silencer coming into contact with your dripping folds. it’s so cold that you can’t help the shiver that runs through your body.

rafe continues to move the silencer against you, partly to tease, partly to get it covered in your juices. “you’re gonna let me, right princess?”

rafe looks to you as you silently nod, worried if you open your mouth you’ll start to beg, beg for him to put the gun inside of you. rafe presses it against your hole, and your eyes widen at how big it feels, like two of his fingers are trying to enter you, but you’re slick enough that when you take a breath to relax, he’s able to push in, breaking the ring of your hole.

“fuck!” you whine, rafe not giving you any time to get used to the sensation as he continues pushing it inside of you, until the entire silencer is buried in your pussy, the barrel of the gun far too large to fit inside.

“just breathe.” rafe mumbles softly, wanting to continue but not wanting to hurt you. you follow his instructions, sliding your eyes closed as you get used to the foreign object.

when rafe can tell your body has calmed down, he pulls the gun out slightly, watching the way your wetness sticks to the metal before pushing it back inside of your body.

you lift your hips slightly to give some reprieve to your thigh muscles, as well as give rafe a better angle as he moves quicker, starting to thrust the gun against you.

his thumb comes back to your clit, now able to touch your bare skin and the pad of his finger feels burning hot compared to the coldness spreading from within you. rafe presses his thumb against you, keeping the intensity constant instead of rubbing. 

“there you go.” rafe smirks, “my good fucking slut.” 

his praise makes you glow, especially as your high starts to build from the way the silencer is pressing inside of you. the dirtiness of the action just pushes you even farther.

“gonna-” you warn, when suddenly rafes thumb is off your clit, the silencer halting all movement, lodged deep inside of you. 

“you ask permission to cum, slut.” rafe tells you, deciding to push you even harder.

“please, let me cum.” you beg, hands fisting the material of the couch.

“no.” rafe simply says, moving the gun again. “no, because my girl isn’t going to cum for some piece of metal. you’re going to wait until i’m done having my fun and then cum on my cock, understood?” “y-yes.” you nod, flopping your head against the couch as it repeatedly presses inside of you, your clit pulsating at the need to release everything you have inside.

“please.” you sob, feeling tears slide down your cheeks, unable to hold back your impending orgasm much longer.

rafe pulls the gun out of your, making your cry out, missing the sensation instantly. “no, no, rafe please.” you beg.

“shush!” he says, delivering a slap to your inner thigh. “if you were patient at all you’d realize i’m going to fuck you now.” you sit up, blinking your eyes open in the low lighting as rafe tugs his shirt over his head. you take the moment to unbutton your pajama top as you watch him stand, unbuttoning and sliding off his jeans and underwear at the same time.

your mouth waters at the sight of his cock, unable to control yourself as you sit up, giving your legs a reprieve from the stretch as you take him into your mouth, sucking the head of rafes cock as your eyes roll back in your head, tasting the saltiness of his precum against your tongue.

“can’t resist, can you?” rafe laughs, knowing how much of an oral fixation you have.

you hum around his cock, bobbing your head but not taking him anywhere near fully into your mouth, enjoying playing with the head of his cock with your tongue.

you kitten lick at his tip repetitively, waiting for rafe to inevitably pull you off to fuck you. he lets you have your fun for a bit longer before tapping the back of your head. 

you pull off with a satisfied smile, laying back and resuming the same position on the couch, spreading your cunt wide to show him that you’ve gotten even wetter from sucking him off.

“my pretty slut.” rafe smiles, kneeling on the couch between your legs. he grabs a throw pillow that was discarded onto the floor at some point, shoving it under your hips to raise your cunt up to the perfect angle to fuck.

rafe rubs his cock against you before jutting his hips forward, sinking fully into you in one fluid motion. you let out a curse, boobs bouncing as he immediately starts up a rhythm.

your cunt clenches tightly around him, rafes moans coming to match your own as he moves within you, feeling your tight walls, remembering that his gun was just where his cock currently is. 

he picks the gun up off the table, still gleaming with your slick. he sticks his tongue out, licking up the side. “you taste so good.” he moans, keeping his free hand on your hip to hold you in place as he thrusts.

“want to taste yourself?” he asks, but doesn’t even give you a moment to respond before pressing the silencer against your tongue, mouth already open from moaning.

you wrap your lips around the metal, indeed tasting yourself on it. you suck at the gun, keeping your eyes on rafe as you do.

rafe moans, feeling his cock swell inside of you. he would keep fucking you all night, but he can’t hold himself back any longer as he moves faster, plunging as deep inside of you as he possibly can.

“fuck, please let me cum!” you cry out, reaching a hand down to rub at your clit, your fingers not feeling as good as rafes, but doing the job.

“wait for me.” is all rafe can gasp out, watching you immediately take the gun back into your mouth after asking.

rafe lasts a few more hard thrusts before he’s releasing inside of you, and you follow quickly, rubbing yourself to completion as you feel your cunt flooding with cum.

rafe continues to gently thrust throughout your orgasms, both coming down together as he sets the gun back on the table. he collapses forward, his naked body pressing against your bare one.

“god, you really are the most perfect slut.” rafe mumbles, pressing kisses to your shoulder as he slowly pulls out, knowing his cum is going to leak all over the decorative pillow you’re sat on, liking the idea of ruining another piece of furniture from his insatiable need for you.

“love you.” you whisper, tilting your head to the side to give his hair a kiss.

rafe leans up, pressing his lips against yours in a fierce kiss, saying the words for him.

“why don’t you go upstairs and wait for me, sweetheart?” he asks, sitting up and giving you a hand to help you sit as well, your body burning as the exhaustion sets back in. “i’ll be up in a minute, i have to clean my gun again because someone got it all dirty.”

[chiwhorei]

𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭

cross-posted to Ao3!

pairing: issei “horse cock” matsukawa x fem!reader

genre: smut, 18+ mdni

word count: ~4.4k

tags: stripper!issei, stripper!seijoh, roommate!oikawa, tendoukawa (bc @heauxzenji said it an it’s now the only ship in my head) dry humping, lap dance, a little corruption, spitting, public, alcohol and recreational drug consumption (weed and coke), spanking, degradation, hardly edited

a/n: howdy! this is my contribution to the smut pile’s western collab and it is so incredibly late but what the hell else is new. the masterlist for the collab can be found here! @messwriting and myself, in true chaotic duo fashion, built an absolutely depraved multiverse of seijoh strippers: the lawbreakers. lee, i love you so much. this journey we’ve been on the past few months has been chaotic and beautiful, and there’s plenty more to come. 

the multiverse: hanamaki || iwaizumi || kyoutani

hymn: save a horse (ride a cowboy) by big & rich

and all the girls say— save a horse, ride a cowboy

A fog of smoke burns in your eyes. The room around you feels like it could curl in on itself, four walls marked sparsely with dusty furniture, the smell of weed and cash. 

You fix your gaze onto a long, diagonal tear in the leather couch across the must and g-strings, the rip in upholstery is stuffed with wrinkled one dollar bills. 

It feels like observing an exhibit at a museum, or a zoo. Lines of coke, random dustings of pot and discarded swisher tobacco, too many open handles of liquor. Sitting on an end table is a bright pink teddy bear with a cowboy hat on it’s head.

How the fuck did you get here?

***

You shift your weight on either foot, arches aching already. The pair of jeans and top you had planned on wearing tonight were all but ripped off of your body, casual boots thrown down the hallway with sadistic glee and replaced with heels that are taller and a dress much too short.

“Damnit, you’re walking too fast.” Your appointed captor turns around dramatically, stopping in his tracks to watch you catch up. The cigarette pressed into his mouth cards in two fingers and extended towards you as a peace offering. You take the half gone stick and bring it to your lips.

Tendou’s mission was simple, drag his boyfriends roommate and best friend-- possibly kicking and screaming-- out for a night she won’t soon forget. 

“Were those really necessary, Satori?” You point with the remnants of his cigarette and he feigns a kicked-puppy expression, looking down dramatically at his all black outfit contrasting drastically with a flashy pair of brownish-red cowboy boots. 

“I am being a supportive partner. Plus Tooru and I wear the same shoe size.” His hair is bright outlined by the neon sign above the building.

You inhale smoke and nicotine, eying him over once again before continuing. 

“Does it bother you when he’s dancing on all of those horny women?” The cigarette butt falls to the ground, you snuff it out while exhaling remnant smoke from your nose, the bachelorette party walking towards the door in a parade screaming emphasizes your question.

Tendou pulls you close, mouth pressing against your neck to bite against the skin. You jerk away from his embrace, with a feeble push against his chest to match the scoff scratching against your throat. The tall red head above you, currently leaned into the dip on your neck, always has an air of vulgar humor and zero personal space. 

“Watching my pretty little boyfriend grinding on women that would never stand a chance with him,” he pulls away just in time to catch another eye roll before grabbing your wrist to pull you inside, “I think it’s hot as fuck.” 

You stumble behind him, the doorman recognizing your friend immediately and lets the pair of you through tacky saloon doors. You catch a glimpse of the tattered sign standing right next to the entrance. 

Lawbreaker’s Presents: The Guys of the Wild West

The club is drastically warmer than outside, the chill in your barely covered limbs thaws in a mixture of stage lights and body heat.

 You sigh deeply as the sound of country music fills your ears, seemingly in rhythm with the squawking of drunken hens sipping on tall flutes of champagne. Thinking back briefly to when you first signed the lease with Oikawa, you remember he wore glasses and a sweater vest. 

He said he worked as a “fitness instructor.”

“Ah, my two favorite people in the whole world,” Tooru’s ears just have been burning at your recollection, as your roommate appears in front of you in nothing but white spandex shorts and a pair of shiny boots to match, a tray of drinks is placed to the side on an unoccupied table. The white cowboy hat on his head gleamed in the low light of the club, rhinestone star shimmers-- you want to shy away from the bright refraction hitting your eyes.

He looks in his element, completely confident and cocksure as he walks around in only underwear and body oil. 

“Aren’t you glad you came out tonight? I promise, you’re going to have a great time.” Oikawa melts into Tendou’s side, he looks just as content in the current atmosphere. Tendou seems at home in any ecosystem he wanders into.

“The show starts in 15, go get yourself a drink and try to pull the stick out of your ass. I’m going to, uhm, wish Tooru an extra special good luck.” 

“I really didn’t need to know that, thanks. Tooru, break a leg.” You turn around at the sight of the wandering, tattooed hand on it’s journey south on Oikawa’s abdomen and retreat to the bar. You aren’t shocked by the display, not hardly, not with the two of them using almost every surface in your apartment as a debauched playground.

The space around you is emptier than you imagined it would be, but there is still time before the night actually starts. The bartender approaches just as you sit down on one of the wooden stools, every fixture around you is designed to look like an old saloon-- save for the strobing lights and dj booth.

You order something strong and amber, partially to stay in-theme, partially for the nerves settled in your stomach that draft beer wouldn’t be able to curb.

The woman smiles brightly and turns to pour your liquor, leaving you to pick at a cocktail napkin and await your friend’s return.

“You’re Shittykawa’s roommate.” A stranger's voice is deep and bellowing, sounding high above your ear. You swivel in your seat, gaze meeting a tanned chest instead of a set of eyes. Trailing upwards past thick black tattoos and an unavoidable pair of silver nipple rings.

You can feel the muscles in the back of your neck as they strain to meet his chocolate brown stare, he looks amused as you all but gawk at him.

“Yes, uh, I am. And you’re, uhm--” the train of thought you try to hang onto derailed completely by a devastating smile, “one of Tooru’s co-workers?”

If his smile wasn’t enough, his laugh could level the building around you. Your new friend taps the black Stetson against the bar top before putting it back on his head. He gestures broadly to his attire, or lack thereof, with another disarming and smooth chuckle. 

“What gave that one away, darlin’?” You realize how stupid your question sounded, mentally kicking yourself but trying desperately not to show it on your face.

Long, thick legs are wrapped in a pair of leather chaps, the tight fabric hides nothing even if it covers most of his lower half. A matching vest hangs open on his chest, the muscles in his arms look bigger than your head. He seems huge in presence and physique, your own form is a shrinking violet below him.

“Your drink, dear. Double Jack n’ Coke.” The bartender slides a glass towards you, and you accept it with a gracious smile. The distraction is definitely appreciated, any excuse to break the eye contact that has you dissolving like lye.

“Jack n’ Coke, a gal after my own heart.” You choke, a coupling of small coughs break out of your chest. You curse your bodies reaction, you don’t even know--

“You’re name, uh, w-what’s your name.” Casual conversation seems like the best option, because it’s only been two minutes with the almost-naked Casanova and there’s a gnawing feeling that you don’t want him to walk away.

You blame it on the alcohol not yet even running through your veins. 

“Call me anything you want, pretty girl, but my name’s Issei.”

A smile creeps from one end of your mouth to the other. His presence is jarring to say the least, but there’s something about the way his teeth peek out past curled lips that makes you want to lean in instead of away.

Tendou calls your name, effectively pulling you out of Issei’s orbit and reminding you where you are. Heat flushes in waves on your face as Tendou wraps his long arms around your shoulders from behind. Acknowledging your new friend with a pointed, “Howdy partner,” before turning to order his own drink.

“Something sweet please, and strong.” You hear his voice singing to the bartender but still face Issei, having his attention is more intoxicating than whiskey. You want him to talk to you, to ask you questions, to grace you with that smile over again.

You feel the ability to breathe escaping when Issei leans into you impossibly close, his hand enclosing around your back and pulling you in so slightly you could swear you imagined it.

“It was nice to meet you. Make sure I hear ya’ out there, darlin.”

You’re left almost falling from the bar stool, watching as Issei strides toward the back. The way his hips sway is unfair in every--

“Hey,” Tendou’s fingers come up to snap in front of your face, “Didya hear me? Let’s go take our seats.” 

That’s right; you feel like you’ve just run a marathon, heart beating erratically at the briefest interaction, your night hasn’t even started yet. 

You’re dragged directly towards the front of the stage and sat in a small two person table. You agreed to the night out between gritted teeth, hauled to the uber with absolute defiance; but most of your protest has fizzled away-- definitely not due to a pair of deep brown eyes and planes of perfectly tanned skin-- as you get comfortable next to the boisterous bridal party. You can hear their idle, drunken chatter at your back. 

“I heard they call one of the dancers ‘Mad Dog’. Apparently he’s totally feral.”

“One of them is nicknamed the ‘Big Tease’, he really likes the pretty little brides~” 

“Oh yeah? Well there’s one dancer called ‘Horse Cock’. I’m going to go home with him.” 

The women behind you howl with laughter, enjoying their friend’s last night of freedom. The straw in your drink twirls idly, thoughts drifting with each turn of the plastic against your liquor. Surely, Issei had just intended a friendly introduction, he wouldn’t be raking in tips by being unapproachable.

Friendly, you decide, repeating it to yourself until the lights drop and a black curtain is pulled up, he was just being nice. 

* * *

The show starts out mostly how you would expect. Through a few sets, toned, beautiful guys take their clothes off and fling articles at the screaming, panting crowd. The table next to you gets the most attention, bridal parties, you assume, would be the prized cash cow.

Oikawa comes out in the most obnoxious, white and teal outfit and strips into nothing but a thong and boots. Every inch of his skin sparkles, the cause becoming obvious when he jumps down to the audience and swivels his hips and ass right into your lap. Your hand comes up to his hip reflexively to brace yourself-- of course, body glitter.

You watch on at the sweaty writhing of the most beautiful men you have ever seen in real life. The atmosphere around you is absolutely contagious, it’s impossible not to fall into the rhythm, losing inhibitions with every stray piece of fabric as it’s tossed into the sea of women.

Just as you lean over to Tendou to admit that you’re enjoying yourself, the next song blasts loudly from the speakers. The beat vibrates your table, soaking into every nerve, but is almost drowned out completely by the shrieking from every patron around you. They must know what’s coming. 

 Looking back up front, you realize why the crowd is losing their minds. The man that commanded your attention at the bar is even more alluring now. His strut to center stage is deliberate, flashing smiles and winks to no one in particular and hypnotizing every person in his reach.

Issei is stunning in his element, soaking in the reaction with a humble tip of his hat. You could swear, though you’re sure that it’s just your imagination, that he’s looking right at you.

His performance starts out like the rest of them, but each movement of his tattooed hands as they travel over his chest is spellbinding. 

Issei discards his leather vest and tosses it to the side, it feels like you’re watching him in slow motion. He’s gorgeous, skin tanned and tight over thick muscle, arms wrapped in black ink and shining with sweat.

His chaps are next, ripped from his legs just as music behind him picks up. The wedding party next to you so loud you swear the laundromat next door can hear.

 All that’s left is a thong that’s barely covering his cock. You try desperately not to, but all your eyes can focus on is the bulge under a tiny piece of black leather. Your thighs rub together in search of any relief to the feeling growing hot and slick in your stomach.

He moves like liquid platinum, every long, deliberate swivel of his hips and overt palming over his crotch is enough to cause delirium. He soaks in every whistle and shriek of his name, vibrating on the high of squelching attention. 

Issei is a natural. He’s a wild animal, and, along with every other woman there, you wish he would tear you apart with his canines. 

He descends the short staircase with a quick stomp of his boots, now making rounds through the crowd. He stops in front of tables at random, invading the space between strangers and collecting wrinkled one dollar bills.

Why does something so blatantly performative feel voyeurous?

All you can do is gawk, ignoring how every time another woman’s hand runs down his abdomen you heat with envy. As he turns away from the bridal party neighboring you, your blood turns ice cold.

Issei has you, unmistakably, in his sights. His eyes pin you, holding you down tightly in your chair as he struts forward. Tendou whistles loudly as the brunette approaches your table. You wonder, in your last moment of cognizance, if Saroti and Tooru had planned your evening in more detail that you originally thought.

“Long time no see, darlin’,” Issei stands over you, and all you can do is stare dumbly up at him, “do ya trust me?” 

You don’t answer, not with words, not like he would even hear your quiver over Big & Rich booming through the speakers. His question is stupid, to trust someone you just met so vaguely?

You do. Against any better judgement, you do. 

He doesn't give you the chance to ask what he means, stuck in the gooey feeling of his attention. Issei reaches behind you, picking up your half empty glass. He swirls the drink with an almost evil smile before bringing it up to his lips and draining the last bits of whiskey and coke. 

Your face reads confused, not putting his intentions together until you feel his thumb pressed against your chin. Issei’s eyebrow quirks, eyes trained on your reaction. You’re options are to shy away, turning back in your seat, running for escape in the bathroom, or--

The gloss on your mouth is sticky as your lips part in obedience. Issei tries to hide his elation, but it’s difficult to remain aloof as your tongue lulls out and your eyes beg him.

Issei’s hold on your chin tightens, nudging you to lean in so he’s only inches away. Your eyes shut lightly, the shouting surrounding you sounds little more than a whisper with the blood rushing in your ears.

You swear you can hear him groan above you as the sharp taste of liquor hits your tongue. Willing your body to cooperate, you swallow the drink with only a small cough. 

His face dips down, it seems like a habit now, to brush his promises against the shell of your ear once again.

“You’re an agreeable little thing, I think you can take it.”

His hands are on either side of your chair in a flash, lifting you up with trained, bulging muscles. You fall forward in your seat, bracing against Issei’s chest. Every cell in your body is tight with tension, if you lift your head up to meet the audience’s eyes, you’re sure you’ll crack like glass.

He steals you from relative comfort, shifting your weight in his arms as he ascends back onto stage. You’ve gone limp in his hold, pliant to his will. The unfamiliar presence at a dusty bar top has turned into more than a front row seat to depravity.

You’re thrown off balance as he sets you down, eyes adjusting to the white hot stage lights. You’re exposed to every set of eyes in the building, even if you can’t see him-- you know Satori is smiling from one sharp cheek to the other. Wherever Tooru is, he’s most likely sitting in the same satisfaction.

Aren’t you glad you came out tonight? I promise, you’re going to have a great time.

Issei rounds the back of your chair so his actions are hidden from your view. The brim of a leather cowboy hat breaches your field of vision, much too big for your head.

His hands come down onto your shoulders, snaking down your bare arms. His touch leaves a scorching fleet of chills. Issei runs his finger tips upwards, tracing against your collarbone before wrapping his grip lightly around your neck. 

He can feel it, he has to, the racing pulse right under the surface of your skin.

The music transitions effortlessly, going almost unnoticed. The next song, still sharp with a cheesy country twang, is slower, deeper.

Issei’s thumb brushes against your cheek, your body wants to relax into the touch before it remembers how public the gesture is.

You hold in a shaky breath as he comes to stand in your eyeline again, you might as well be bound to your chair with rope. He looks larger than life-- in both stature and presence-- in front of you. His skin is glistening, refracting from the harsh lights with sweat and oil. 

He is an unstoppable force against your will. Your desire to hide from the blinding attention is nothing compared to the desire to please. To please a stranger, to please the man you met only an hour ago. 

To please Issei.

He flashes you another wink, taking a moment to rake his stair down your body. He memorizes the outline of your cute little dress, red is definitely your color. 

Issei slides across the smooth surface of the stage to meet where you’re perched. The barreling, almost naked body now impossibly close to where your knees are pressed together.

He starts at your ankles, tracing the soft skin of your legs until his palms press flatly against your lower thigh. Issei savors the moment for a beat longer before prying your legs apart.

The crowd below you is loud and hollow in your ears, the shame bubbling up against your cheeks and nose is nothing compared to the pressure between your legs. 

Issei’s hands wander up and under the hem of your skirt, scratching his nails on the vulnerable skin before they find his prize in the form of thin lace.

The “Wait” and “Stop” sitting on your lips shrivels up and dies as your panties are ripped off. You see the bright color, the last remnants of opposition twirling around his pointer and middle finger.

The crowd goes wild, watching as your body is made a fantasy that they can all live vicariously by. all you can do is watch as the fabric is stuffed into the side of his thong to accompany fistfuls of singles.

* * *

You’re still in shock by the final dance, still under a trance as Tendou pulls you towards the back. Stumbling behind him to catch up, you’re given no time to think about what you’re about to walk into. 

A fog of smoke burns in your eyes. The room around you feels like it could curl in on itself, four walls marked sparsely with dusty furniture, the smell of weed and cash. 

You fix your gaze onto a long, diagonal tear in the leather couch across the must and g-strings, the rip in upholstery is stuffed with wrinkled one dollar bills. 

It feels like observing an exhibit at a museum, or a zoo. Lines of coke, random dustings of pot and discarded swisher tobacco, too many open handles of liquor. Sitting on an end table is a bright pink teddy bear with a cowboy hat on it’s head--

“I didn’t go too far did I?” Snapping back into reality, you hear Issei call to you. You’re vaguely comforted by a familiar voice before remembering the man attached had spat whiskey into your mouth and stolen your panties just 30 minutes prior. You heat up at the tips of your ears at the recollection of two things you had let him do, that you had wanted him to do. 

Your eyes find Issei sitting on the couch on the opposite end of your freshly showered roommate, seemingly unbothered as Tendou flops down against the middle cushion and drapes both arms across the back. 

“Don’t worry partner, our girl doesn’t startle easy.” Oikawa laughs, adjusting to sit across his boyfriend’s lap.  Issei’s all leather outfit is replaced with a pair of grey sweats. He looks relaxed, effortlessly handsome. 

What was it like, you wonder, before you knew how it felt to look at him? Life past the single night feels grey around the edges. 

When was the last time you felt this alive? 

He takes a sip of a water bottle, wiping off his chin with the large rose tattooed on his hand. You can’t stop staring at them-- the ones that roamed your body in front of a club full of drunk bachelorettes, the ones that traced your skin like he already had the map. 

And now you watch those same hands, so new but so inviting, as two fingers curl inward. They pull you as if tightening a rope around your waist. You wade past tall sweaty men and freshly caught audience members as they tangle across dusty furniture.

You scoot by your best friends from where they sit next to Issei, ignoring the slap to your ass and the following laugh from Oikawa in between loud, sloshing kisses.

“Well, little one,” He pats his thigh, inviting you to the spot on his lap rather than the empty seat next to him, “you’re not gonna run away are ya?” 

Every nerve in your body is twitching, you’re not sure if you could run if you wanted to.

You don’t.

Issei takes in your small nod of confirmation, pulling you into his hold. The position is awkward at first, perching on his knee as you try to keep your balance. He laughs, his arm snaking around your back so you relax into him. You fidget with your fingers as they lie against your lap, watching the bustling around you. A cloud of smoke settles in the air, you wonder if it’s a permanent haze of tobacco and pot-- the scent is probably painted into the walls. 

“Is this what you expected?” Issei’s voice is low and close to your ear, you can feel the smile curled into his question. Your eyes are fixed forward, watching as Tendou pours a small white line into Oikawa’s collarbone and dives in nose first.

“Honestly,” you adjust, kicking your legs up over his other knee, “I’m pretty used to this kind of stuff.”

Even if your usual scene doesn't include a drug filled almost-orgy, you can’t say you’re fazed much. Not with the company you keep.

Even with the circus revolving around you, Issei is the only thing you can see. Everything else falls away but the smell of his body wash and the soft material of his sweats where they meet your naked legs.

His hand rests against your thigh, fingers just above then short hem of your party dress. The metal rings on each digit are cool against your burning skin. You’re sure Issei can feel the heat rising in your stomach as it spreads through your blood. 

You feel him lean back, fishing something out of his pocket to set in your hands. You feel every hair stand on edge as the thin cotton drops into your grip, heavy as an anchor.

“You know what I think, darlin’?” Your breath hitches, the room around you squeezing tight against your shoulders, “I think you’re a natural on stage. I bet you would have let me do anything up there.” 

A hand wanders down the path of your spine, rough fingerprints stroke past each vertebrae. You arch at the feeling, his skin is like a narcotic. The liquor still swimming in your mind is no match to this, to the heady smell of sex and sweat as it cuts through your senses. 

Issei’s right, you’ll let him do anything to you. You’ll beg for it like you’re trying to pass the gates of heaven.

Your body moves of its own volition, legs swinging to straddle his waist. The material of your dress bunches over the curve of your ass, completely exposed to the room around you before being eclipsed by steady palms.

You would be, should be, embarrassed by the display of public depravity. No one around seems to notice, half naked is still more modest than most everyone else. Tendou and Oikawa have dissolved into a pile of spit and clashing teeth next to you, saving you from any snide quips. There’s nothing but Issei, face an inch away from you and lips tempting you to lean forward.

“Would it make you feel better if I told you I don’t usually do this?” 

Glassy eyes flick dumbly at the man below you. He sees the wobble of your lip, the glaze in your stare as you memorize every feature on his face. Any reassurance sitting on his tongue dies when you crash your lips against his, hips rolling down into him and knocking him off guard.

Your kiss is searing and drips with finality. You’ve decided what bed you’ll wake up in the morning with your tongue tracing against his molars.

“No, not really.” Foreheads pressed together, it’s your turn to laugh. If you’re honest, you probably made this decision while still sitting at the bar.

You dip back in, emboldened with the bruising fingers digging against the fat of your hips. The feeling of your cunt pressed against his crotch could bring a man to his knees.

He’s not opposed, he’s just gotta get you home first.

all writing is dymphnasprose’s original content, please do not repost or modify. do no read my content as asmr.©️

[goliath-de-senfina-sango]

Fathering a Phantom ch2

I just wanna Talk, I swear

Here we have the chapter 2 for that fic from earlier! Once again, here ya go @five-rivers @floralflowerpower and @uwuplasmiusuwu

“Cole I’m going to murder someone,” was the first thing that Toby said to his husband upon arriving once more in their temporary sanctuary. Cole paused mid throw of his javelin, electric sparks crackling up the polearm, and turned to look at his husband. Toby’s wings were ablaze, his nails sharpened into claws, and his eyes a colorful storm, as though he couldn’t decide what to turn into for maximum lethality. Cole set down his javelin and wrapped around Toby in a hug.

“Who are you planning to murder, sunshine? And should I join in? I haven’t gotten into a good fight since we got here, which is a shame.” Cole coalesced from a mass of clouds into something a bit closer to his original body when Toby relaxed in his embrace, running his fingers through shimmering feathers made of embers. “You really do look like a star like this, by the way.”

“There was, I think, a war forged around here who fired a bunch of rockets at a child! You know that liminal kid I told you about?”

“Oh right, we’re rare in this realm, huh?” Cole’s face scrunched up in confusion and he arched a brow. “I thought the liminal around here beat up the tyrant ruling the place when he woke up?”

“I didn’t exactly ask about what must’ve sucked when I half blew up the metalhead.” Toby flew over to the couch and flopped face first into it. “Now I gotta track him down.”

“Why only half? Sounds like someone you’d take out in one go if you had the drop on em.”

“Well, do you wanna traumatize a kid of unknown cultural origins? He’s so small, and his friends were clearly still living humans. I dunno if he’s seen someone die before, let alone a ghost getting Ended. If I recall, committing murder is a bad way to start a friendship with a child.”

Cole snorted and gave Toby a pat on the shoulder. “Alright, fair, Sildar didn’t like me much after that rescue. But hey, now you can put that on your to do list! Murder, the answer to most problems.” Toby laughed, phasing through the couch when Cole sat on him. “There he is, my giggly celestial chandelier.”

“Do you even remember what a chandelier is? I know you broke like three of them over someone’s head, but I forget whose head.” Toby put out the flames in his feathers and stretched, satisfied when his spine popped a few times. “It’s nice to still be able to do that.”

“I’ll be honest, being a cloud has made the sound of your joints popping kinda gross to me. It sounds like you’ve still got a flesh and blood body.” Cole sat up, scratching his head. “Do you still have a humanoid body? With like, meat and bones and stuff?”

“Probably, yeah. We’ll see, cause if so that’ll come in handy with helping out this liminal kid. Said his name is Danny Phantom.” Toby paused, the feeling of his feather being torn an odd and upsetting one. “Speaking of whom, I should go meet up with them. Think you can find this ‘Skulker’ guy while I educate some kids?”

Cole kissed Toby on the cheek and gave him a thumbs up. “Will do! I can’t promise there’ll be much left of him afterward though, I’m not a fan of idiots who attack kids.” Toby smiled and in a flash of light and beat of wings, he was gone. Cole nodded to himself and grabbed his maul, crackling with electric arcs, and opened up the door to their temporary Sanctuary. “Now then, who the fuck is Skulker?”

After having a small debate about where they couldn’t go and why, team Phantom finally ended up at the indoor roller rink that was partially destroyed by a giant ghost crab a while ago, and sat down at a table that Danny cleared of debris with an ectoblast or three. “Ok guys, I think this is a good enough place to call him up.”

“Are we sure it’s a good idea to call him at all?” Sam held up the feather she’d kept in her pocket, turning it about to watch the golden flame dance. “He took down Skulker pretty fast and it usually takes you a good half hour to do that, Danny.”

“Skulker specializes in attacking Danny is all, Sam. We’ve got the weapons to handle pretty much any ghost we normally deal with, and Danny took down the king of ghosts. I’m pretty sure he can handle anyone else.”

“Plus, Toby wrecked Skulker pretty bad. If he wanted to fight, I’m pretty sure he would’ve started a fight.” Danny condensed his ectoblasts into one ball of ectoplasma and stretched it out into a pole. “Imagine all the cool stuff he could show us!”

“Alright, if you say so.” Sam snapped the feather in half, surprised by how easy it was to do, and grabbed her ecto-pistol. For a moment, there was silence. Then the sound of wingbeats filled the room and Toby appeared above the rink as though landing from a long flight.

“That’s a spell I’m not used to casting frequently in a day. Heyo kids!” Toby waved, tucking his wings by his sides while walking closer. “Sorry for the delay, I was talking to my husband. So, names again just to be sure: Sam, Tucker, and Danny, right?”

“Yeah, that’s right. What do you mean spell, exactly? Do ghosts have magic ontop of the other ghost powers now?” Tucker spun the lipstick laser around in his fingers, remembering Desiree’s magic and Freakshow’s staff.

“Anyone who can do magic keeps the ability in death, usually. I’m not dead though, I’m Deathless.” He spread his wings and spun around, thumbs pointing to his chest. “I was born awesome like this, and so was Cole. But, based on your faces you weren’t born like this?”

“No,” Sam said, gesturing at Danny. “This is a recent thing, it’s been since about…” Sam paused, her gaze landing on the wall behind Toby. “March of last year, so 14 months.”

“Yeah, god, we’ve been doing this for over a year now, haven’t we?” Tucker, who had held up a camera to record everything Toby was saying, slumped a bit in his seat and sighed. “Feels like it’s been like this forever and like it happened yesterday.”

Toby stared at them all like they’d each grown extra limbs in odd places – Danny even checked to make sure he hadn’t done that while feeling both old and young at the same time due to how little time had actually passed – before zipping over to Danny and holding his hands just over the teen’s face. “Oh my gods, you’re a baby.”

“I am a teenager, thank you.” Danny gently pulled Toby’s hands away from his face, a brow raised. “What, is 14 infantile to angels, feather man?”

“You’re only 14 months dead, Danny, that makes you a baby ghost.” Sam snorted and Tucker covered his mouth to try and hide his laughter. A snap of Toby’s fingers and flowers began growing in Tucker’s hat, and seeds appeared above Sam, growing into flowers as they fell all over her. “If you’ve had regular interactions with that metal head, no wonder your aura’s all aggro.”

“Skulker’s not exactly the worst of the ghosts we’ve had to fight over the months,” Danny said.

“Oh yeah, that’d have to be either Walker, Spectra, or Vlad. It’s really a toss up between Spectra and Vlad, if you ask me.”

“Vlad wants to kill Danny’s dad because he sees his mom as a trophy that was stolen from him, while Spectra tried to kill Jazz just to depress an entire school so she could feed on the misery to look young.” Sam brushed away the flowers and weighed two in her hands. “Yeah, those around the same level of grossly evil.”

Toby’s wings ignited at some point while Sam was talking, and the sunlight streaming in from the hole in the roof grew somewhat brighter. He reached into a bag he had strapped to his waist and pulled out a book and a pen, his smile all teeth. “Tell me, please, a list of all the adult ghosts who have attacked you children? I’d like to have a discussion with each of them.”

“If we give you their names,” Danny said before Tucker could answer, “do you promise not to go slaughtering them all? I don’t need to know ghostly body language at all to know that flaming wings come from a place of anger and imminent violence.”

“When did you read a thesaurus, Danny?”

“Sam, I’m insulted: I know tri-syllabic words. I can even say supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.”

“I promise not to slaughter all of the ghosts you inform me hurt you in the past few months, yes. Names?” When Tucker listed off names, Toby wrote them down with an inhuman speed, and Danny exchanged a look with Sam, worried about how exactly that deal might be loopholed around. “Right,” Toby chirped while slamming his book shut, “I’m here to answer some questions of yours, not just ramble about myself and assemble a… list of people to talk to. Got any?”

“So many that I don’t even know where to start.”

[unbridgeabledistances]

a ✨drunk and clingy ian✨ one-shot

okay so we all know that saint patrick’s day is a very arbitrary and somewhat meaningless holiday (at least in the u.s. lol)- but we also know that the gallaghers are incredibly fucking irish, so i am using this as an excuse to write some drunk and clingy gallavich fluff (bc i think we all need it!! or at least i do!!!!)

hope y’all enjoy<3

--

Mickey and Ian came in the door from their final weed security run of a way-too-chilly and grey March afternoon, kicking the slush off of their lace-up boots in a tired but comfortable silence. Mickey had been fantasizing for a good part of the afternoon about his usual afternoon ritual of collapsing onto the couch with a cold beer in his hand, and taking a long lazy nap while shitty game shows played on the TV in the background— but unfortunately, Debbie had other plans. Or so he realized when he turned the corner and his eyes were met with a forest of green and white streamers blanketing the living room, with Debbie determinedly balancing on a kitchen chair to hang them in the doorway.

Mickey did a double-take, shooting a glance at Ian and then back at the festive room again. What the fuck? He quickly racked his brain— there was no way he’d could’ve forgotten Franny’s birthday, that was in the summer—and he was pretty sure that Liam’s birthday was in the winter sometime; so whose the fuck was it? Too many goddamn Gallaghers to keep track of. Finally, Mickey admitted his own defeat.

“Is it someone’s fuckin’ birthday or something?”

Mickey flashed another gaze to Ian in confusion as he said it, hoping that Ian would silently mouth whatever the occasion was to him, or at the very least raise his eyebrows and goad Mickey enough to jog his memory to remember whatever the fuck today was— but Ian just gave an easygoing grin as he took in the room’s decor and let out a laugh.

“Debbie, isn’t this kind of going overboard?”

Debbie looked over her shoulder from where she was now taping a crudely scribbled picture of a shamrock, most likely drawn by Franny, up onto the wall.

“What? If it’s our last Saint Patrick’s Day in the house, the least we can do is go out with a bang,” she answered nonchalantly, and continued fixating on hanging up Franny’s drawing.

Mickey inadvertently let out a scoff and rolled his eyes. Fucking Gallaghers.

“I’m sorry, fucking Saint Patrick’s Day?”

Ian’s lips formed a playful smile and he elbowed Mickey between the ribs. “Yeah, Mick, Saint Patrick’s Day— also known as the unironically most important day of the Gallagher family calendar year. I can’t believe I forgot it was today, with all the work stuff we had going on.”

At first Mickey couldn’t tell if Ian was actually being serious— but in the same second he decided that it didn’t really matter, since Ian’s eyes were bright and shining and there was this weird giddy grin he was sporting from ear to ear, like he was absolutely fucking delighted that it was Saint Patrick’s Day, instead of just a normal goddamn Wednesday. Fucking softie.

And as endearing as that was, Mickey still couldn’t let him off that easily. “There’s no way I’m celebrating Saint Patrick’s Day. It’s a fake holiday for yuppie rich kids to go bar hopping—I’m not getting involved in any of your Gallagher bullshit.”

Ian’s grin just grew, like he knew exactly what Mickey was doing. “Hey, you married into this family. If anything, this is your own fault.”

Mickey just rolled his eyes, then continued to unlace his boots and throw them by the doorway.

“The fuck do you do anyways, aside from getting trashed?”

Ian put a hand on Mickey’s upper back to steady himself as he pulled his own shoes off. “I think getting trashed pretty much sums up the festivities. Today’s practically a holy day of observance for Frank, and I’m assuming Debbie’s also just gonna use today as an excuse to get drunk on a Wednesday.”

“Hell yeah I am!” Debbie called from where she was putting the chair back in the kitchen.

Mickey raised his eyebrows. “I knew Gallaghers were white trash, but I had no idea you were this bad.”

“Oh, come on. You don’t have any Ukranian white trash holidays or whatever?”

Mickey held back a bitter laugh. Yeah, they had “holidays,” in the form of days when Terry was celebratorily drunk enough to leave them the fuck alone for 24 hours, rare occasions when his looming shadow was out of the house and a festive lightness bled in in its place. They sort of celebrated Christmas, which was mostly just associated with too many painful memories of Terry ripping open the presents before he or his brothers had the chance, and too many painful stings associated with him having one too many drinks as they sat quietly inside the sagging house and pretended to be a big happy family for one night a year.

But never anything as gaudy and deliberate and ridiculous as observing a C-list, Irish-American holiday just for the hell of it, just for fun—which yes, was probably fueled by Frank’s alcoholism more than anything else, but also made something swell in Mickey’s insides that he didn’t quite know how to place.

And Mickey didn’t know how to let out that entire internal monologue to Ian while Debbie was standing within earshot. “Nah, man. Milkoviches don’t really do… holidays.”

Ian snaked a hand around Mickey’s back, giving his shoulder a squeeze, a grounding touch. He gets it.

“Well, get ready to have your mind blown, Mr. Gallavich, because we’re about to celebrate this hallowed occasion Gallagher style.”

Mickey rolled his eyes again, but let himself lean into Ian’s touch, lean his weight ever-so-slightly against Ian’s chest that was pressed behind him by the doorway. And, okay— as stupid as this was, maybe there was something sort of warm and solid about tradition, about hand-scribbled shamrocks and streamers on the wall, about having days to celebrate just because you wanted to, just because you could…

Just then Franny came hurdling into the room, wearing a baggy green t-shirt and a face-painted shamrock adorning her cheek.

Ian’s face lit up when she stopped in front of them. “Hey Franny! Happy Saint Patrick’s Day!”

Franny held out two bottles of beer to Ian and Mickey from where she had been hiding them behind her back.

“Mommy said I should give these to you when you came home!”

Mickey smirked, carefully taking the bottles from Franny’s outstretched hands. “Thanks, kiddo.”

And if all celebrating Saint Patrick’s Day took was knocking down a few beers on a weekday afternoon—well, Mickey wasn’t going to complain about that.

**

Of course, hours later Mickey realized how severely he’d underestimated Debbie’s enthusiasm— after lounging around the house waiting for the stream of Gallaghers to trickle in from their various daily activities, Debbie had rounded everyone up and they migrated to the Alibi as the sun was setting, where they’d met up with Kev and V and Lip and Tami, who (thank fucking god) looked as vaguely confused and fully apathetic about this whole “Saint Patrick’s Day” situation as Mickey did.

Now it was late, and Mickey was leaning against the bartop of the Alibi sipping a thick, foamy glass of Guinness, which was as close to embracing whatever-the-fuck Irish heritage his husband had as he was possibly going to get.

All of the Gallaghers were here, swirling around the room—Debbie had put on some sort of peppy music as Kev poured everyone drinks, and a couple of other Southside neighbors had heard the bass thrumming and joined the ruckus. The room wasn’t too crowded, but it was pleasantly full of bodies and chatter— Kev had bought bunches of shiny, tacky green mardi gras beads for everyone to wear, and the air in the room was festive and bordering on sloppy in a way that felt very different from how Mickey had envisioned this evening would go.

Mickey was pacing himself, because it was a Wednesday for fuck’s sake— but his husband was an entirely different story. Between the beers at home and the various drinks Debbie had been siphoning into his hands all night, Ian was teetering on the drunkest Mickey had seen him in years—which partially made the tiniest spark of trepidation start to creep into Mickey’s bloodstream, a spark that he immediately extinguished. It was one night, the first in a long time— Ian deserved to have some fun.

And he definitely, definitely was having fun— casually dancing with Debbie and Sandy and whoever else would humor him, grinning with red-hot cheeks and bright eyes— from across the room Mickey could tell how warm his skin would be if he pressed a hand against it, how flushed. Mickey wasn’t really in the mood for dancing, or whatever the fuck stumbling around and chatting and making friends Drunk Ian was up to for the evening, and he was perfectly content to nurse his drink at the bar— which is why it surprised him when Ian pulled himself out of the crowd, slightly stumbling over his own feet, and made the way across the room to where Mickey was leaning at the bar, immediately boxing him in and putting his hands square on Mickey’s waist. Mickey almost imperceptibly let in a sharp breath.

Ian looked down at him, all smiles and shiny eyes— when he spoke the scent of sweet, hot liquor danced on Mickey’s face and all he wanted was to be closer, to breathe it in.

“Are you having fun?” Ian’s right hand traced up Mickey’s side, then back down to its hold on his hipbone.

Mickey raised his eyebrows. “You and your leprechaun family don’t mess around, Gallagher.”

Ian smiled a lazy, tipsy smile, and pecked Mickey’s cheek before Mickey could be embarrassed about it.

“D’you wanna dance with me?”

Ian’s hands slid off of his hips and entangled with Mickey’s hands that had been hanging limply at his sides, walking backwards so their fingers were laced together an arm’s distance apart.

Mickey shrugged noncommittally. “I’ll leave showing the Irish pride to you and the rest of the drunken Gallaghers.”

Ian registered Mickey’s words and opened his mouth to reply, just as Debbie pulled Ian over by the arm.

“Stop sulking with Mickey and do more shots with me!”

Jesus Christ. Ian was going to be wrecked when their alarm went off for work in the morning, and Mickey was starting to debate if he was going to need to have a talking-to with Debbie about the appropriate amount of “Saint Patrick’s Day fun” they were allowed to partake in next year— but for now Ian was happy, and he could stomach one night of hardcore festivities.

Mickey stood at the bar for a while, watching Ian and Debbie get progressively more flushed as they bobbed through the crowd— and then, when Debbie had found some other victim in their mid-twenties to get even more shitfaced with, Ian made his way across the room to Mickey again, plopping onto the barstool beside him and heaving his bodyweight onto Mickey’s left side, burying his face in the crook of Mickey’s neck. Mickey wrapped a tentative arm around Ian’s waist, trying to hold him up from slouching off of the barstool.

“M’tired.” Mickey could feel Ian’s hot breath dancing on his collarbone as he slurred out the words, and felt Ian’s eyelids flutter shut against the side of his neck.

Ian was always giving Mickey measured casual touches, wherever they were—but it was so exceedingly rare that Ian fully let himself go like this, let himself be drunk and happy and just crumple into Mickey, without worrying about holding anyone else up. It felt new, but it felt good— Mickey let the solid weight of his husband’s body leaning against his press him down, rooting him into the Alibi’s sticky floors, feeling the clammy skin of Ian’s forehead that was solidly lodged into the side of Mickey’s neck.

He hated to admit it, but in that moment, something in Mickey was also frozen solid— as much as Mickey had grown in the past few years, something about these situations, about PDA or whatever, still made Mickey feel like he was treading water—like he was fighting to stay afloat while everyone’s eyes were on him, and the strong current was only lifted when he and Ian were in the dark safety of their bedroom. If Mickey was drunk at a bar and sloppily leaning onto Ian, there was no doubt in Mickey’s mind that Ian would hold him, would gingerly touch him and caress him and do more to him than just prop him up— but something in Mickey still hesitated and flashed with warning signs in a crowded room full of people.

But Ian was still breathing hot on Mickey’s neck— so Mickey thought about what Ian would do, if it was Mickey who was tipsy and slumped on his shoulder. He tentatively raised his arm from where it was lying limply by his side, and started to run soothing circles onto Ian’s t-shirt, just above his hipbone where Mickey’s hand was holding Ian up by his waist.

Ian hummed in acknowledgement of the touch— and then he pressed a tender kiss to the crook of Mickey’s neck, where his face was buried. Fuck. Mickey just pulled him in closer, gently tugging Ian’s torso in by his belt loop to hold him steady.

Ian hummed again, then started to press kisses up and down Mickey’s neck. “You smell good.”

Mickey’s heart started to beat a little quicker, his blood running hotter than usual—and Ian couldn’t fucking do this now, while the rest of his family was milling around and dancing and wearing fucking mardi gras beads while flaunting their Gallagher pride.

Ian lifted his forehead off of Mickey’s shoulder, and gently bit at the underside of Mickey’s jaw—and Mickey thought he was going to combust right there, on the spot, in a room full of Gallaghers pressed against the bartop at the Alibi by his very drunk husband.

And in an act of excruciatingly inconvenient timing, Lip sidled up to the bar and sat on the barstool on Mickey’s other side, nursing what Mickey assumed (and hoped) was a diet Coke in a beer glass.

“Hey there, Mick. And, uh, Ian.”

Ian looked up from where he was very engrossed in continuing to nuzzle the opposite side of Mickey’s neck, and glared at Lip from across Mickey’s chest.

“Go away, Lip.” Ian collapsed his head back onto Mickey’s shoulder and closed his eyes again, wrapping his arms around Mickey’s neck like a fucking boa constrictor. Mickey snaked an arm up around Ian’s back, holding him steady on the wobbly barstool.

Lip held back a laugh as he sipped his drink, then took a drag of the cigarette he was holding. “Seems like Ian’s done enough drinking to make our ancestors proud.”

Mickey took a sip of his own beer with his free hand. “Debbie made sure of that.”

Lip raised his eyebrows. “Damn. Guess we’d better keep an eye on her, make sure she doesn’t also have the Frank gene.”

Mickey grunted in acknowledgement, then took another sip of his beer, mostly because he didn’t know what else to say. Ian’s head shifted slightly on his shoulder— and Mickey realized he probably needed to haul Ian home ASAP, before he was even more sleepy and incoherent and unable to lug down the street.

Lip noticed Ian’s movement on Mickey’s shoulder and smirked. “I’ve gotta say, I’ve never seen Ian being this clingy before. Even with other guys—no offense, Mick— he usually stayed pretty contained. And you guys aren’t usually too into the PDA department.”

Mickey shrugged, trying not to jostle the heavy weight of where Ian’s head was hanging. Lip was right—he and Ian never really were all over each other, especially not like this, outside of the context of their room, when they were very much always all over each other.

Lip kept studying them, and the corner of his mouth eventually ticked upward. “It’s good. He’s definitely not this… comfortable with anyone else. Including me, which is definitely saying something.”

It felt weird, to get something like what felt like Lip’s full blessing at a raunchy Gallagher party months after he and Ian had gotten married—but that was also exactly what it felt like was happening.

Lip’s eyes suddenly darted across the room, to where Tami was holding up his coat and gesturing to the door. Lip rose from the barstool, stubbed out his cigarette, and put out a hand to clap Mickey on the shoulder as a goodbye.

“Catch up with you later, Mick.” Lip reached out and jokingly tousled Ian’s hair. “Make sure this one doesn’t hate himself too much tomorrow morning.”

Mickey smirked. Ian was practically asleep and drooling on his shoulder, his breathing turned steady—Mickey reached a hand up to card through his hair, then gently shrugged his shoulder to get Ian’s head to rise from where it was jammed on his neck.

Ian raised his head, his eyes bleary and confused at first, then softening around the edges when he met Mickey’s gaze.

“Alright, let’s get you home, carrottop.”

[nbrook29]

but baby, it’s cold outside

So, I might have written a thing 🤭 Robbe’s photo related thing to be more specific.

Also on ao3!

----

“Wow, who knew making a fire could be so sexy?”

Robbe heaves a long-suffering sigh and looks at the sky above him in hopes it gives him strength to deal with the dork also known as his boyfriend.

“Don’t you sigh at me, Robin, you’d agree with me if you could see yourself right now.”

The tone of his voice is enough to let Robbe know Sander is currently in his teasing mood and lives to rile him up.

He looks very pleased with himself when Robbe turns his head to give him an eyeroll, even more so when he notices the smile tugging at the corners of Robbe’s mouth. At the eyebrow wiggle he then receives Robbe stops fighting the smile altogether and laughs quietly at Sander’s antics, his chapped from cold lips cracking a little.

“Will you help me or you’re just gonna stand there looking pretty, huh?” he lights another match but it’s immediately blown out by the wind and he lets out a small whine in frustration.

“But you’re doing so good on your own! I can cheer for you though?” Sander’s offer sounds almost genuine but the blossoming smirk acts like a tattletale and yes, Sander is definitely in the mood.

And Robbe can’t even be mad that he’s a little shit because he’s a sucker for him and that smile and they both know it. So he just shakes his head in feigned resignation, giggling when Sander actually does start cheering for him, whooping and clapping his hands, and just being embarrassing in general.

It’s getting noticeably colder with the temperature dropping significantly since they left Sander’s house over an hour ago. There has been a warning of a blizzard coming to Antwerp this evening but it feels like it may come sooner than anticipated.

They went for a long walk in the afternoon to get a bit of fresh air and to enjoy the dearly missed for years snow after being cooped up in their respective bedrooms for days and days on end, cramming for finals (Robbe) and finishing up projects (Sander). The sound of fresh snow crunching under their shoes felt like freedom at last, both of them instantly turning into 8 year olds, threatening each other with snowballs and making snow angels, soaking half of their clothes in the process.

For the artist inside of Sander, the winter wonderland-like scenery was like a wet dream, his fingers clicking away on his vintage camera every two minutes or so, making their walk extra slow. Robbe didn’t mind though, being long acquainted with Sander’s artistic habits and indulging him every time he turned his big eyes on him to request them getting off their track a bit to take a photo of yet another thing looking awesome covered in snow. And then after every picture taking his hands into his own to rub his freezing fingers in order to warm them up because Sander refused to wear gloves. Granted, they weren’t very practical for operating a camera but still. Robbe had a very personal relationship with these beautiful hands so it’s not like he could just let them freeze off. It was basically his duty. The sweet smile Sander shot him every time he did it was an additional bonus.

They grabbed a coffee from their favorite coffee shop at the corner of Sander’s street but the wonders that the warm liquid did to warm them up has been long gone by now. Robbe is pretty sure the sound that’s coming from his left side is actually Sander’s chattering teeth so he doubles his efforts and after a few attempts he finally manages to make fire pit lit up. His boyfriend lets out a loud whoop and then immediately comes closer, wrapping himself around Robbe’s small body from behind and holding his palms above the new source of warm.

“You know,” he starts as Robbe pokes at the fire a few times and throws a piece of wood in it and letting it burn before melting into Sander’s embrace and warming his own hands over the flames. “I already knew I’m dating a skater boy but I had no idea I’m also dating a scout boy.”

Robbe snorts. “Lucky you because otherwise you’d freeze to death. I’m expecting your gratitude anytime now.”

Hey, he can be a little shit too if he puts his mind to it.

“Well thank you, baby,” Sander purrs sweetly into his ear, placing a kiss on the spot on the side of his neck currently not covered with scarf causing a shiver go through Robbe’s body, only partially due to his cold as ice lips.

He tilts his head to the left and presses a lingering kiss to his mouth, his eyes closing and knees buckling a little within seconds when Sander licks into him, his hands landing on Robbe’s hips to steady himself. It’s slow and unhurried, a bit uncomfortable given the position they’re standing in but it’s not like either of them actually cares.

They do care though when the darkish grey clouds over them decide it’s high time for some snow so they’re forced to separate, Sander letting out a sorrowful sigh, burying his face in Robbe’s neck and circling his waist with his arms, refusing to let go.

“Come on, let’s go before it gets really bad,” he laughs quietly when Sander shakes his head petulantly, his fringe tickling Robbe’s cheek in the process.

“I don’t want to,” he groans but after a few minutes he lifts his head slowly, surrendering. But then he dips his head again under Robbe’s jaw as if to test something. “Hey, you smell nice. Is that a new aftershave?”

“Yeah, you like it?” Robbe asks expectantly.

Sander pretends to think for a second. “Wait, I think I need to check again,” he replies before burying his cold nose in the hinge of his jaw. Robbe lets out a high-pitched squeak at the sudden coldness and tries to squirm away, giggling as Sander instead of letting him go places little (cold) kisses along his jawline. Once he manages to kiss every square of it he backs out with a triumphant smile, barely dodging Robbe’s incoming elbow.

“After a closer inspection, yes, I do like it, I like it a lot.”

“Cool.”

“Cool.”

Robbe tries to hide his smile, pleased with Sander’s reaction because he wants to actually keep his cool but he fails and Sander sees right through him, chuckling when he realizes the slight blush on Robbe’s cheeks has little to do with cold. Surprisingly, he decides to let it go and not tease him about it which Robbe is lowkey grateful for because it’s embarrassing how gone he is for him.

Before they leave the lakeside, they both take a picture with their phones of the now extinguished fire, or actually what’s left of it. Robbe is first to post it but Sander’s photo is better, obviously, his skills at tweaking it to look just right far more superior than Robbe’s. Once Sander’s done, he puts away his phone with a tongue-in-cheek smile and Robbe is already dreading what he’s going to find in the caption. He taps on the app icon and groans.

Fire made by my firebreather 🌬️🥶❄️☃️💙 #scoutboy

“Ugh, you’re so annoying.”

Sander blows him a kiss, ignoring his scoffing as he entwines their fingers and pulling Robbe along to finally get them moving, the snow getting stronger the longer they stall.

Robbe forgets all about Sander’s embarrassing caption when he realizes they are still about 20 minutes away from his house and he’s almost soaked to his underwear. Sander’s in a better state than him, his leather jacket despite not giving much warmth keeping the snow from getting through, and so are his ankle reaching shoes.

They can’t exactly take a tram because the snow caused a huge gridlock, people honking at each other left and right with trams stuck in between. They try to run for a while but the pavement is too icy and it quickly turns out that one wrong move is going to cost them a broken bone. But Sander looks determined to get them to his house as quickly as possible once he notices Robbe’s soaked through clothes and his violently shivering body so they end up getting there in under 15 minutes.

Thankfully, his parents had left the heat in the house turned on before they went to the movies so once they cross the threshold they are bathed in a delightful warmth. They take off their shoes and jackets, but then Robbe lingers in the entry, aware of his dripping clothes and not wanting to make a mess at which Sander just rolls his eyes and drags him to the upstairs bathroom.

Robbe has troubles to keep his teeth from chattering and when he sees himself in the mirror, his lips are slowly turning a weird shade of blue so he peels off all the soaked layers while Sander turns the shower on, making sure the water is hot enough to stop Robbe from turning into a smurf. He has that deep wrinkle between his furrowed eyebrows and he’s acting like a man on a mission helping Robbe get off the soaked clothes and collecting a fresh share of his own for him to put later on.

“He-ey, calm down, I-I-I’m f-iiii-ne,” Robbe stutters out because when Sander gets all worried about him like this it’s best to squash that seed right away.

“Tell that to your lips,” he scoffs, worrying his own lip between his teeth. “Come on, get in.”

Robbe sighs and decides it’s probably best to just let him fret a little. He lets himself be maneuvered into the shower and then snorts at Sander’s unsure look on his face as he hovers near the shower door, clearly wanting to join in but not wanting to intrude.

“Ar-rre you seriii-oouus?” he asks, groaning in relief when the hot water hits his back. “What are you wai-iii-ting for, get in, you’re all wet too!”

That puts him in motion and Robbe laughs when he sees him shedding his clothes off in record speed, jumping on one leg when he tries to get off his wet skinny jeans, before joining him and pushing his face directly under the stream.

“Fuck, it feels so good.” Sander turns his head back and forth, letting the water wet his hair before he takes a good look at Robbe. “You’re feeling better?”

He delicately thumbs at his lower lip and the sweet gesture makes Robbe smile and give his finger a side kiss, then turning his head slightly to place another on the center of his palm.

“Yeah, I think circulation is back,” he jokes, wiggling his toes.

“I’m sorry, I know it’s my fault, if I hadn’t been fooling around we would have gotten home before it got so bad-”

“Sander, shut up, it’s not your fault it snowed harder we anticipated,” Robbe looks at him with disbelief.

Of course Sander would blame himself.

“But-”

“No buts. Period.”

Sander doesn’t look convinced so to avoid any further doubts, Robbe stands on his tiptoes, looping his arms around his neck and shuts him up with a kiss. It definitely helps to warm him up faster.

“So like... no butts at all?”

Robbe blames it on the almost-hypothermia that it takes him a few seconds to get the joke.

“Oh my god you’re unbelieveable,” he laughs into his finally smiling mouth and deepens the kiss, Sander’s wandering hands effectively erasing any cold-related feeling from his mind.

[icedthoma]

40. Sunrise with Shinsou?

“Nothing is free.”

He says that for the first time with a laugh, holding the second half of his twin popsicle out of your reach. You’re both eleven, that age when you either shoot up like a tree or you don’t. 

From the way you’re struggling to grab the treat out of his hand, it’s clear which one each of you are.

“Please, Hitoshi,” you plead, clasping your hands together as you stare longingly at the cold popsicle, so inviting on that hot summer day. “That’s not fair, I’m your friend! Friendship is free, right?” 

Leaning away, he licks both popsicles with an insufferable grin, and you droop from where you’re standing, head bent down in defeat. “Whups. They’re both mine, now.” 

You sigh and turn away. “I guess they are.” You’re not in the mood to fight over something as trivial as a popsicle. If he wants both, he can have both. He paid for them, anyways. 

Shinsou watches you dumbfoundedly as you skip down the sidewalk, ready to head home after a long day at school. “H-hey, hold on,” he calls, wrapping the bottom of the popsicles with a paper towel and rushing to catch up to you. 

You pause in your tracks and wait for him to reach your side. You'd never leave him behind. 

-------

“Nothing is free.”

You’re both thirteen, in junior high now, currently taking refuge in the deserted school hallway while Shinsou buries his head in between his knees and chest as an attempt to hide his tears. “I hate my stupid quirk, I hate the cost it comes with-” 

You pat his back reassuringly, rubbing soothing circles into his shaking shoulders as he cries. You’re the only person he’d ever be this vulnerable in front of. “Don’t listen to them,” you murmur, heart aching at how broken he looks.

“You think I haven’t been telling myself that since elementary school? That even with a quirk as villainous as mine, I’ll find some way to become a hero?” His voice cracks at the end as he quotes what your classmates whisper about him, rumors about the boy who controls minds, the boy who brainwashes, the boy who needs to be left alone. 

Gritting your teeth, you pull on his arm, making him raise his head to yours despite his protests. “You will. Despite what others say about your quirk, you will become a hero. You apply to UA if it makes you happy, and you try your very damn best no matter who stands in your way, okay?”

Sniffing, he wipes his eyes with the sleeve of his uniform, resting his chin on his arm once he finishes. “How do you know I will?”

“Because I’ll be with you,” you say confidently. “I’ll apply to UA with you and support you in any way I can. Granted, my quirk can’t do much, but--”

He grabs your hands in both of his, eyes no longer shedding any tears as the sadness and resentment he radiated moments earlier evaporates to cold, hard determination. The shift in his expression surprises you, but you don’t comment about it. “You’ll really do it? You’ll apply with me?”

“I’d never leave you,” you say, ruffling his purple hair playfully. “And you’re wrong, you know. Hugs are free.”

Despite his protests, you wrap him in one, squeezing him tight in your arms like you could wring all his insecurity out if you embraced him hard enough. 

You both end up feeling better after. 

-------

“Nothing is free.”

You’re both fifteen, first years at the prestigious UA High’s General studies course heading home for the day. You don’t bat an eye at the familiar dialogue leaving your best friend’s mouth and casually turn around to see him glaring down at the sidewalk. 

“Of course not. We worked our butts off to get here, remember?” 

He sighs, and through his exhale, you understand. Being in the general studies course wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted more. He wanted...

“Hey, it’s the hero course third years!” a girl in a group walking a ways in front of you gasps, pulling at all her friends to point excitedly at a trio of tall older students on the other side of the road. “They’re so cool...”

Shinsou scoffs and jerks his head to the side, confirming your thoughts. 

“Hey. Don’t get all pouty on me.”

“I wasn’t being pouty.” 

“Uh, yeah. And that is not true. So many things are free, Shinsou.”

“Like what.”

“Smiles, friendship, love,” you offer, hoisting your backpack a little higher over your shoulder. 

“All those things cost energy, time, and--”

You laugh and beam brightly at him, pointing a finger at both your cheeks. “Shhh. Here is this smile. Totally free, made with love just for one Shinsou Hitoshi.”

His mouth remains an impassive line, but you spot the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly, which you take to be a good sign. “Thanks,” he says after a long pause, turning away so you can’t see his face.

The tips of his ears are red.

-------

“Nothing is free.” 

You’re both sixteen and sitting on Shinsou’s dorm balcony when he says this, voice strained as he runs his hair through his hands, you nestled comfortably beside him like you’ve done for years.

“I thought you wanted this?” you ask, shivering slightly in the cool night air despite the blanket he draped over the two of you. “You’re finally achieving your dream of getting into the hero course! Aren’t you happy?”

He makes a strangled noise deep in his throat and you crane your neck up to look at where he’s staring at the railing. “Yeah...but...”

“But what? What could you possibly be sacrificing?”

“You,” he says, swallowing hard as he finally meets your gaze. “I’m moving on to the hero course without you--I’ll be in a different dorm, different class--”

Placing a finger over his mouth, you silence his ramblings with a stern glare, which is rendered ineffective by your yawn that immediately follows.��“Shinsou Hitoshi, you are not losing me. Don’t think that you’re leaving me behind or anything, because you’re not.”

He shoots one last worried look down at you and sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose with the hand that’s not wrapped around your shoulder. It’s then that you see how tired he looks.

“Look at your eyebags,” you say softly, tracing the underside of his eye with the tip of your pointer finger. “You’re not getting enough sleep.”

“Yes, I--” His sentence is interrupted by a loud yawn, and Shinsou blinks rapidly at the realization that it came from him. “--am.”

Sighing, you pull him down so he’s partially leaning on you, his head resting on your shoulder. “Come on. Get some rest.”

“Promise you’ll...wake me in an hour,” he mutters, snuggling up against you and falling asleep in an instant. He’s always slept better whenever you were around, you’ve noted ever since you were kids. 

Soon, you find yourself drifting off, making an empty promise to yourself that you’ll wake him up later on, but his presence is so warm and inviting that you too succumb to sleep. 

It’s a good thing it’s a weekend. 

When you wake up, it’s still dark outside. Shinsou has keeled over on the other side of the couch, off your shoulder. The blanket is caught between his legs and tugged off you, which was probably why you had been woken up so early. Teeth chattering in the early morning chill, you yank part of the blanket back over you and check your phone. 4:30 am. 

A glint out of the corner of your eye catches your attention, and you peer through the treetops to spot the glow of the sun breaking through the darkness. By instinct, you reach for Shinsou, gently shaking him awake. 

“Wha--what is it?” he mumbles, finally sitting up and rolling the cricks out of his neck, eyes still heavy with sleep. “Oh. You were supposed to wake me after an hour...”

You grab both his hands despite the fact that they’re as cold as ice. “You’re wrong, you know.”

“Huh?”

“Some things are free,” you say, turning his face towards the sun as it finally breaks the horizon and floods the whole sky with light. 

You’re close enough to him to watch his pupils contract in the sudden change of brightness as all the colors of daytime wash over the two of you, the many shades of orange and yellow and blues reflected in his dark eyes.

“This memory that we’ll have of watching the sunrise together, that is free,” you say earnestly, hoping with every inch of your being that he’ll understand despite it being 4:37 in the morning and way too early for any Deep Thoughts. “I don’t want you to live your life thinking life is just about gains and losses, you know? There’s so much more--” You cut yourself off, because he’s smiling. 

He breaths a small laugh at your surprise and looks sheepishly down at the concrete floor of his balcony that the two of you have been on this whole time. “That was a free smile. For you.” 

“Totally free and made with love?” you joke. 

“Yeah,” he says, tilting his head to grin at you again. “With all the love I have.” 

--------

Send me a character and a prompt!

[imaginesandideas]

humid

roughly 4k words, originally posted on my A3O account. a late summer memoir; NSFW. reblogs, comments, suggestions and all kinds of support are more than welcome ✨

[whispers] y’all should really play Hozier’s “Work song” or “NFWMB” for this one 🖤

It’s been a tough couple weeks. Well, months. And it’s especially hard cause you’re living together, you’re married and yet you’re passing each other by. Not willingly for goodness sake, but you’ve been barely finding time for each other lately and it’s killing you. He’s not dealing great with it either, but he keeps the facade to avoid worrying you more. He’s learnt that at work obviously. The same work that has been keeping him away from you for so long.

You’re not better though. Everything has changed after you finally got your degree. The studying was hell, you were mostly tired and overworked. But Flip? He was by your side through highs and lows and was always super supportive. If not for him you probably wouldn’t have done it at all.

But after that you were met with another bunch of obstacles. Cause despite your earnest efforts, finding a decent job in the Colorado Springs area was a rather difficult task.

You went through successive stages of education but it never meant that someone would be willing to give you a chance. And again Flip was the most supportive husband - he would drive you to your interviews insisting that it’s „no big deal” and that he won’t be late for work, cause the work will wait for him anyway. You found his presence by your side in those moments  extremely comforting. As you were driving around town he would reach out for your hand to hold it and place a kiss at the back of it. Such a simple gesture but for you it meant more than words. You knew that it was an affirmation, it was him reminding you that you’re strong, that you’re capable and that no matter what happens he’ll be there. For you and with you.

And you simply couldn’t help but glance at him lovingly as he was entirely focused on the road, making sure you get there safe and on time.

 And finally, after many unsuccessful attempts, you got the job. It wasn’t a job of your dreams, but it was good for a start. You were earning enough to support your household budget and to take some of the worries off Flip’s shoulders. It was the independence you’ve been seeking, but it also meant that you’d have to get used to your lives continuously not coinciding.

You didn’t even realize when 6-hour shifts have turned into 10 hours. And then those 10 hours turned into a lot of paperwork you’d do during the weekends. But that’s okay, you thought, Flip was also busy at the station or going on missions so you couldn’t really be mad at yourself for doing all this extra work, right? And it was also pretty rewarding cause soon enough you got promoted and had even more complicated tasks to execute. It also came with bigger money, but all of a sudden you realized that you don’t even have the time to go and spend it on something.

Soon enough it dawned to you how little time together with Flip you were actually getting and the thought itself made you feel sick. Cause if you were to count all the moments you two had for each other during the week, it would have to be all the hours asleep and alarming amount of rushed goodbyes and kisses as you pass each other by in the hallway of your home.

Passing each other by - that’s what you were actually doing and it was driving you insane. But what could you do, you were trapped between the current project and all the upcoming ones. You were trapped between Flip’s and your own work schedule. Separated by the obligations that lay with your shoulders.

„That’s wonderful, I’m so proud of you!” His voice is heavy with exhaustion but you can sense that he’s smiling as you’re talking on the phone.

The manager position was more than you could’ve dreamed of, especially after such a long time in your current job, but the offer was so generous and unexpected that it took you a moment to process it. But first, you needed to call Flip. Partially because you wanted to know his opinion but also just so you could hear his voice.

„Well I have yet to agree but yeah I’m pretty excited.” You smile to yourself. „I mean, it’s a big step and I’ll have to get used to the new workplace but yeah…”

„You’ll do great baby. You’ll handle it like a fighter, I’m sure of it.” He’s really so proud of you and no distance could ever hide it. You can practically see his eyes shining with pride. „I love you.”

You sigh sadly.

„I love you too baby.”

„… and miss you.” He adds in a hushed tone.

„I know, I do too, you have no idea how much.” Suddenly you feel glad that you got to talk now, during your break with none of your coworkers around. It’s not like you’re ashamed or anything but you just don’t want people gossiping about the state of your marriage or you in general. It’s your moment, one out of very few you get to spend with your husband, even if it’s on the phone. And you’re just sad, your voice almost breaks as you’re speaking. „I know it’s probably just all the work and stress but I think I’m going crazy sometimes.”

„That bad?” He chuckles and you roll your eyes but you know he’s only teasing. „I know baby, I’m sorry, it’s my fault. All this paperwork from the last case got us locked up here for days. Even Ron had enough of it and left earlier today. Promised he’ll be back tomorrow morning but I wouldn’t bet my money on it.”

You nod mindlessly. Gnawing on your bottom lip you decide to take your shot.

„How much of it do you guys have left?”

„The case data? Uhh, for at least a day or two I think. Why?” You smirk but keep your voice on the same note.

„I might be wrong but I remember that chief once mentioned that you still have that overdue leave?”

He pauses for a moment, most likely trying to recall that conversation but soon enough he’s back on the line.

„Yeah I think there was something. I’ll ask him again but I believe there was a week or two.”

„Okay so, uhm, how about you get the paperwork done and we both take some time off? Just you and me, no work, no phonecalls, no distractions.” At this point you can barely hide the excitement in your voice and you don’t even care. This may be your last chance so you just hope he agrees.

„God yes, that’d be perfect!” He smiles widely and you can’t help but smile too. „What about your new job though?”

„I’ll handle that, don’t worry.”

„That’s my girl.” The smile he has at that moment will stay with him for the rest of the day, he has no doubt about it.

 Time flies when you’ve got loads of work and things to look forward to. Those days flied by like a rocket and there you are, all giddy and excited as you walk towards your home. You decided to buy some groceries on the way and grab your order of italian takeaway from that restaurant you used to visit quite often when you were still only dating. Despite the tiredness and the overwhelming heat of the day you try to keep your mood uplift, the thought of well deserved time off with your husband is making all the work worth it. Cause he is worth, and you know that both of you deserve this more than ever.

The late-summer sun is setting low over the city and the woods and you stop in your tracks to catch that last glimpse of golden light. Who would’ve thought that one day you’d miss small things like this - slowly walking home, admiring the view. But you promise yourself to care more from now on. It’s a brand new chapter of your life and you decide not to waste a single moment that’s worth remembering. And you want to remember this, remember this day.

You set your purchase on the kitchen counter and drop your bag on the couch. Flip did not set the hour precisely but you guessed that he’ll be late, the usual.

After you put the food in the fridge - you specifically ordered pasta to be semi-raw so you could reheat it at home when the right time comes - you grab the bottle of leftover wine that you intentionally didn’t finish the last time. Now that you’ve got a couple days off it won’t matter if it’s not the weekend yet, you’re starting yours early. Besides, it should help you relax a bit, loosen tense muscles. And that icy liquid just feels so right as it reaches your tongue, perfect for a hot evening like this one. With a glass in one hand you step out on the porch but the air is still way too heavy with heat and you return inside.

After yet another sip you set the glass on the table and choose to change into something more comfortable. Ideally something thin, cause even back inside the air was pretty humid. Barefoot, you step inside your wardrobe and the coolness of it makes you close your eyes in bliss. The summers here were great, you loved the sun and the nature flourishing, but if you could trade one thing it would have to be the heat, especially during the night.

By the time you come into your bedroom you don’t even know what time it is, you’re too drowsy to care. Maybe you’d just wait in here, lay on these silky sheets you just recently bought for the summertime sleeps. You’ll keep one eye open in case if he comes back soon. You won’t fall asleep no way. No way…

 Jolting awake you notice that the light is turned off, the whole room is dark and aired but still pretty humid as if someone left the window open. And it’s almost completely silent, except for the steady breathing beside you. There’s warmth spreading over your waist where his arm rests protectively and you smile. Once your vision accommodates to the darkness you see his sprawled out form, so pale in the night shades of your bedroom. He even got rid of the tank top he’s normally wearing to bed and you assume he must have felt just as hot as you.

You also realize that you must have fallen asleep before he even came back, cause you can’t seem to remember anything after changing your clothes in the wardrobe.

His embrace feels better than anything else in the world and you wish you could’ve stayed like that forever but your throat feels so dry that you decide to gently slip out. It’s no surprise that you still feel dizzy as you stand up, suddenly remembering the alcohol and the fatigue of workday. As quietly and carefully as possible you sneak out of the bed and then out of the bedroom, leaving Flip alone underneath the sheets.

One glass of water isn’t enough so you pour yourself another one. It’s been hours since dusk yet the air feels so heavy and hot as if during the day. Your skin feels sticky, like it’s covered in some sort of sweet syrup.

„You minx.”

His raspy voice coming from behind startles you at first, but his hands swiftly sneak around your waist before you get a word out. And you don’t even mind the warmth radiating off his body onto your back, engulfing you as he closes the distance between you both, that closeness is almost relieving. You haven’t been this close in a very long time.

„I thought you were asleep.” You say softly as you reach out to caress his face and he nuzzles his cheek into the crease between your shoulder and neck, kissing along your tense muscles.

„Can’t sleep without you. I need to know where you are.” He mumbles and you smile.

 It’s true, even when away on a mission or an investigation - he always calls. He knows when you’ll be back from work and wants to make sure you got home safe. That’s the protective side of his that you’ve learnt to adore, even if one could consider it an annoying trait.

With his vast work experience, the things he’s seen over the years but also the love he had for you from the very first day, he couldn’t just simply overlook your safety. You were that one string keeping him grounded and sane thorough all the madness in his life, he wouldn’t have forgiven himself if he’d lost you. It was almost like a ritual at this point. Him calling you from the station before you head for bed, sometimes you calling him at the hotel when you know his workday on a mission is over. Not only does it calm both of you down, it’s also a chance to have that much needed time to talk about ordinary things.

„I’m sorry I fell asleep on you. I had some wine, I don’t even remember when I passed out…”

„It’s okay. You work so hard, you deserve some rest.” His voice is soothing in your ears, almost as soothing as his soft lips traveling up along your pulse point. „And I was tired too.”

„Was? Past tense?” You whisper chuckling and his grasp on you tightens, he’s pulling you in even closer almost inhaling you whole. His hands run up your sides, gently cupping your breasts before they retreat, then climb up again, this time underneath your shirt. Ever so slowly, teasingly his fingertips dance over your skin, over your slowly hardening nipples. And despite his bodily warmth it still sends shiver down your back. 

He whispers but it feels like a thunder echoing along your neck.

„You already know.”

Your bodies move in unison as you turn around to face him. His face glows of late summer sweat in the dim light and it only accentuates his rough features, from cheekbones to jaw. He gives you a few seconds, enough to get a good look at his shadow-toned figure - arms,  thighs, collarbones, stomach and that strong chest - at your Flip, before he pulls you in once again. This time his hands are even greedier, his movements are more desperate. But you’re right there to reciprocate, bringing your own needy hands to his dark, sweat-tangled locks. And when his lips finally meet with yours it’s like breathing. It’s natural, it feels necessary. It’s like magic but better, cause there’s nothing realer than this.

„I missed you. So so much. I missed this.” He whispers in between kisses hastily. His voice is hushed but deep, like in a tantric prayer. Like a spell.

„Flip.” You call out quietly, a whisper echoing in the darkness. He hoists you up, you watch his arms flex in the corner of your eyes, hands clutching on your thighs for dear life as he places you ever so gently on the counter. Safe yet so close to the edge.

His movements are sensually slow, so different from the way you’ve remembered him. With lips parted you let him kiss away the tension from your shoulders, arms, neck, wrists…

„Let me.” He half asks half states as he sinks low on his knees. Your eyelids grow heavy with each touch of his plump, warm lips on your ankles, calves, below your knees, along your thighs. „My love, my queen.”

You don’t remember him him like this and you’re hypnotized. He’s like a drug flowing through your veins, heating you from underneath the skin. Like he’s controlling your whole body, its motions, you.

„Baby please.” You’re begging. Flip likes that, a lot.

„Say it again.” It’s the depth of his voice, the booming of it that wakes you up from this trance you’ve been stuck in. And he’s looking at you with those cinnamon-spiced honey eyes of his. The eyes that are now locked with your own hazy gaze.

He kisses your ankle without even looking away and it’s like fire burning you from underneath and that icy breath tingling on your skin.

„Please.” A whine.

„Again.”

„Please…”

It comes out nearly a whimper, but he’s relentless, his face stoical like a cliff. Proud, patient, waiting.

He’s tempting you, testing you as if it is the devil himself kneeling beneath your feet. Encouragingly grazing his fangs along the luscious skin of your thighs. Awaiting your surrender. Your submission.

„Say it like you mean it.”

Your heart is shaking in anticipation. It feels so wrong and yet you give in.

„Phillip, please. I need you.”

And he bites in, sucks in, leaves blooming marks like petals scattered around a bouquet of fresh wild peonies.

He devours you entirely, completely. Trembling, you’re losing control, in fact you’re giving it away, right into his eager hands, lips, hungry eyes.

 By the time his mouth reaches your clit you’re already blissed out, encouraging him with the motion of your hips, quietly gasping, begging for air, begging for more. Begging for no air at all.

It’s like you’re breaking apart, your body and mind conflicted yet something, someone, keeps them tied together, seals them with each caress. Your nerves are tingling but at the same time are so numb, like he’s crawled inside you, slick as a snake. He’s controlling you, the rhythm of your breathing, of your heart.

And your heart feels like a volcano, hot and ready to explode from your heaving chest.

„Y-yes, there, please.”

Your slick and his spit are one. Your inhales are synchronized with his lips. Perfect harmony, only it’s not quiet, it’s loud on his tongue, loud as the gasps leaving your mouth and even louder in your brain.

With your vision clouded you gaze down and that’s when it hits you.

Your limbs involuntarily shake, wave after wave crashing over you and within seconds you can barely breathe. Your mind is filled with light, like sun setting over beach, the sounds  of ocean rustling. You’re divided, both here and out there, not even sure which one is which cause all of these sensations feel so real.

There’s this immense hot heaviness climbing up your torso. It covers your ribs, moves swiftly over your cleavage, rests below your breast, on your heart. His hand reaching out to touch you even more. So gentle and loving yet so delightfully demanding.

„Yours.” You whisper even though he doesn’t question it verbally. It’s in the air and you just repeat it like echo, like a mantra.

Fingers dig into the counter, seeking support. He knows you’re almost there, he can feel it through your uncontrolled trembling, your spasming cunt. And so he catches you, holds you grounded, holds your thighs firmly apart with his strong hands. Somehow it doesn’t even matter that it’s the middle of a hot night, it doesn’t matter where did your underwear go, if the sun is about to hit your faces within the next few minutes, cause all you care about is him. And you keep chanting his name with that haunting promise.

„Yours Flip, yours. Yours.”

If only you could see these honey eyes as they drown in the sound of your voice, the eyes that can’t speak but still reflect his love for you - selfless, filled with adoration and respect. In his eyes you’re a statue, carved and perfected thorough the years, and now he’s bringing it to life.

Your body goes tense one more time, from head to toes, from the crown of your head and along your spine. He slows down, he wants it to last, he wants to feast on you for the rest of his days and even more, but he needs you to be fed.

And gods, he’s feeding you with everything he has, with the twirls of his tongue, with his own spit sticking to your sweat covered body, the tiny bites and that gloriously filthy loud sucking.

 It’s your arms that give in first and you lean back on the counter covered in sweaty bliss. His hands that kept your your thighs apart loosen the pressure, though you’re fairly sure of the bruising that will come out of it. The beauty of pleasure and pain.

Slowly he pushes himself up from his knees. And- fuck, he’s so in love with you he would propose to you the very next day if only that didn’t already belong to the past.

That’s when your eyes open. You catch him staring but he’s staring at you the way no other person ever did. Not like a prize, a plaything, no, he’s fucking mesmerized. All he sees is a goddess and the look in his eyes, his face says it all. It’s that tiny smirk on his stupid-beautiful face that cracks your heart open. You wonder how dare he tongue-fuck you into oblivion just to be so puppy looking seconds later. It’s like he’s testing you again.

„I fucking love you, y’know that right.”

„Phillip Zimmerman, how dare you. I should be the one saying that right now.” You chuckle but soon enough he gently grabs you, sitting you upright, his arms wrap around your waist yet again, eyes glossy with love. You’re speechless cause it feels like falling in love for the first time, this moment, him holding you close like this. You know this, you two have been like this in the past but you thought you’ve lost it somewhere along the way. Life can be rough, can be painful and sometimes just utterly normal, boring even. But here you are, gazing at each other longingly, maybe more in love than ever before because it’s no puppy love anymore, it’s a full-grown one.

His eyes follow the lines he draws with his fingers along your cheekbone, cheek, jaw before stopping at your chin. And he stares. Stares into your eyes.

He’s thinking how perfect you are, your face carved with determination, struggles but also beauty, and this immense love. He’s thinking how fortune must have helped his blind senses in catching you. And how he never wants to let you go.

He’s so lost in thought and so you take over finishing the sentence he meant to make. You seal the confession with your own lips, deepening it, making the words mean something beyond their definition.

With your eyes closed your hands glide over his face. You feel the softness of his skin, but also each of the tiny scars, the moles, the small imperfections that make Flip the person you know. Your person.

Your lips detach and you already miss their fullness, you miss the way they belong together.

„I meant that, you vixen.” He exclaims half-teasingly, but you know he’s sincere. You know him well enough to recognize it, so you just smile.

„I know. And I do love you too, so much. I really missed us.” As you speak he cups your face yet again but allows you to continue, not wanting to interrupt your thoughts. You were always better with words than him. „And I’m so proud of us, super-proud of you. How you grew over the years, how you’ve gotten better at everything you were already great at. And, like, grateful. For everything you do, for being so supportive and for being there for me an-”

„You better cut this sugary bullshit or you’ll make me so soft ’m not gonna be able to fuck you later.”

„Cutting it right now!” You pretty much cry it out and he chuckles flashing that full-blown smile of his, the one that’s reserved only for you.

„Good girl.” He says and you half-expect him to run off with you to the bedroom, but instead he kisses your forehead and pulls your arms over his shoulders. „But first, sleep.”

„What? No, no nonono. Babe, Flip, no, put me down. I can’t leave you hanging like this, let me-”

„No. Sleep. We need some more sleep first. Besides - I caught that small yawn you did 5 minutes ago, and you tried to freakin’ hide it from me so you’re not getting away with this one.”

„B-but…”

„I promise, we’ll catch up after a nap. Look, we woke up in the middle of the night and now it’s almost dawn.”

His words make your head spin in direction of window and you can’t believe he’s right as the first beams of sunlight hit your eyes. And of course you yawn on the spot, cause he’s really just has all the points.

 So you just nuzzle your head in the crook of his marble neck as he carefully hoists you up. You stay there, wrapped in his love through the finishing moments of night, and through couple more hours as both of your bodies rest covered in silky sheets, with limbs tangled together, breathing steady. Even when the air gets humid again covering your bodies with another layer of sweat, you don’t mind. You’re no longer against the heat, not if it’s the heat he covers you with, not if it’s the heat of you together.

[instasiswetrust]

Werewolf AU (Steve centric)

When the wolf finds him, Steve's been sitting on that rock for nigh on an hour. Or at least, he assumes it could've been an hour even when it feels like he's been there for merely a handful of minutes.

He doesn't turn to greet the wolf, doesn't even flinch, heavy gaze entirely focused on the two-story house he can make out at the bottom of the hill. From his place on the raised rock, just at the edge of the trees where the pine forest meets the last remnants of the suburban landscape, he knows no one can spot him from down there. He can see them though.

Two figures, partially hidden by the curtains that frame the open window, sit at a table. He thinks they might be having dinner, trading inane chatter like it was any other day. And you know, maybe it was.

(He tries not to dwell on how much that thought makes his chest ache.)

Behind him, a soft rustle can be heard, the crunching of heavy boots on dried pine needles, before someone sits next to him on the rock. Their legs dangle off the edge of the raised rock, and by the mismatched pink and green striped socks they are wearing, Steve can easily tell who they are.

"It's been two hours, Stevie. Dad thought you had gotten lost in the woods again."

Susie.

(For some reason he had thought Frank would've found him first. He decides not to think about the small spark of disappointment that he feels.)

"Sorry." He mutters, prying his gaze away from the house and facing her properly. She's shorter than he is and it makes him have to look down at her. In her hands is a partially eaten chocolate bar - where she got it, Steve doesn't know - and when she notices his eyes on her, she raises it slightly so he can take a bite from it.

Steve wonders if she's doing it because of the dried tear tracks on his cheeks, or the way his hair is lying limp against his head from all the times he had run his hands through it. Either way, he's glad she doesn't mention it

"Doesn't chocolate make us sick?" Maybe it's ironic for him to ask when he's taking a bite of the chocolate too, but he could do with the sweetness.

"Life without chocolate it's not worth living." And when she smiles, her cheeks dimple in the cutest of ways. It's honest, happy, and slightly manic, childish in a way that reminds him so much of Dustin that he ends up choking back tears.

She doesn't say anything but her eyes soften. Next thing he knows, she's all but pulled him into an embrace, his face smooshed into her shoulder in a slightly awkward angle due to their height difference. The way he doesn't even bother finding a more comfortable position, his whole body relaxing under her touch, is evidence enough of how much he needed something like this.

"I miss them." Whispered like a secret, his words muffled against the fabric of her pink cable knit sweater, even as the first sob wracks through him. “I k-know I shouldn't because they don't s-seem to care that I left but-”

Her hands are on his hair, fingers carding gently through it, even as she hums a lullaby under her breath. It makes him sob harder, face hidden against the curve of her shoulder, hands desperately clinging to her.

Susie never comments on it. She doesn't try to justify his feelings or vilify his parents. Her sole focus is on him, letting him cry it out without caring if her sweater gets stained with tears. Once he's finally calmed down, she waits for him to put himself back together before standing and helping him up.

“Come, Stevie. Let's go back before Dad starts worrying.”

------

The thing about shifting into a wolf was that keeping any coherent thoughts was absolute hell to do, especially when you had only been a wolf for three whole weeks. Thinking he could somehow sneak into town without being seen was foolish to even consider.

That still didn't stop Steve.

Dustin. Robin. Nancy.

Names repeating in his brain that made absolutely no sense to a wolf who couldn't make sense of abstract concepts. But they were important. He could feel it under his skin, like an itch that he couldn't scratch. How he would find them, he wasn't sure, but he would.

And that's how he ends up climbing clumsily into the open window that leads to Dustin's room, making a racket as he topples over half a dozen action figures that were settled on the dresser. His nails clack sharply against the hardwood floors, nose twitching curiously at all the scents that fill the room.

A sudden movement out of the corner of his eye has him turning his head to the side, finding himself at the foot of a raised structure that he vaguely remembers is meant to be den. On it, a human child holds a complicated plastic...thing, pointing it directly at him. He smells of curiosity and fear but under it, all is a scent so familiar that it makes the wolf's chest ache with emotions he can't name, a soft confused whine escaping him.

The child tilts its head at the sound, curiosity seemingly winning over his fear as he crawls closer to the edge of the raised platform, eyes locking on the wolf- No. On Steve.

That single moment of clarity is all Steve needs to trigger back the change, skin morphing and bones cracking, as his body protests with the pain of forcing him back into a form resembling something human. At last, there's no wolf, just a very naked teenager sitting in the middle of Dustin's room with a nerf gun pointed at him.

"Steve?!" He flinches despite Dustin's voice being no louder than a whisper. A cold breeze streams through the open window, making him shiver and reminding him that he's still very much naked.

"Look, I promise I will explain just-" Steve flushes, fumbling with the necklace on his neck until it spits out the change of clothes he had saved in there. "Let me get dressed because this is awfully embarrassing."

"I uh- sure?" And it's clear by his tone of voice that he's choking on a laugh but he does cover his eyes to give Steve some privacy.

It doesn't take long before he's fully dressed, sitting on the corner of Dustin's bed while his friend stares at him with eyes filled with curiosity and accusation. Steve cannot blame him. For all everyone knew he could've been dead no matter what the note he left behind said.

"So you're a werewolf." Not a question but he nods, feeling uncomfortable as he remembers Evan saying he couldn't tell anyone else for the safety of not only himself but the pack.

"You weren't supposed to find out about that but it's hard keeping human thoughts while I remain a wolf." Dustin has that look on his face that Steve knows means he wants to ask more questions but is refraining himself from doing so. It makes him smile at the familiarity of it all. "I'm not actually supposed to be here, in fact."

"Why? Did you get kidnapped by a werewolf cult or something? Is that why you left?"

Steve snorts, shaking his head quickly. "No, no. Nothing like that. It's just for safety, y'know? Monster hunters are common in small towns like this according to Da- according to Evan."

His slip up makes Dustin quirk an eyebrow.

"Were you just about to call this Evan guy, Dad?"

"Look-" But before he could start explaining, the younger boy interrupted him again.

"Wait, you said Monster hunters, not Werewolf hunters. Does that mean other creatures are real? Like Fae, and Tieflings, and Vampires? Is Dracula real? Is Mothman real?" He's firing questions with the swiftness of a TV presenter, Steve immediately putting hands on his shoulders to slow him down.

"Slow down, dingus." He teases, the old nickname making Dustin roll his eyes. "I'm not really supposed to be saying any of this but I guess since you've already seen me..."

"C'mon Steve, tell me at least a little! Please?" And Dustin's known Steve for long enough that he's aware the guy is absolutely weak when it comes to puppy eyes.

He sighs, running a hand through his face before caving in. "Monsters are real, yes. I only know a few, those that have visited the pack for the most part, but Dr. Herman has many Bestiaries around that he agreed to let me read once I graduate from Evan's pack dynamic classes."

Dustin is absolutely beaming with all the new information, a hundred questions waiting to be voiced on his lips but suddenly his expression falls, brows furrowing and teeth worrying his bottom lip. He's avoiding Steve's gaze and his scent stinks of sadness.

"Hey, what's the matter? I thought you would be excited to know Mothman might be real?" He's still saying nothing and Steve is starting to grow worried. Did he do something wrong?

"This means you aren't coming back...right?" It's barely above a whisper but Steve's hearing is so sharp that he has no trouble hearing him. Inside his chest, his heart clenches painfully.

When he shakes his head and Dustin's gaze falls to his lap, Steve feels like his body is being filled with lead.

"I still have my phone with me, and I might be able to visit in the future but... No. I'm not coming back, Dustin." Grief bubbles in his chest, choking him up and making his eyes burn with the tears he wants to shed but refuses to.

Dustin tackles him into a hug, squeezing him so hard that it hurts but Steve doesn't mind, hugging him back just as tightly. If either of them cries they don't bother mentioning it.

It's not important after all.

----

Dawn shines pink and orange over the horizon when he makes it back to the ranch, exhausted to his bones.

Evan is waiting for him in the kitchen when he steps in and Steve is not surprised. The older werewolf had the uncanny ability to know when any of them were getting into trouble, after all. So all Steve does is hang his head, feeling the weight of Evan's gaze on him.

"Sit." He says, and his voice doesn't give anything away. So Steve sits and waits for the reprimanding he's so sure will come.

Except it doesn't.

"You have been crying. Are you hurt?" Evan is truly concerned it seems, his voice firm but not too loud. Is enough to bring the tears back to Steve's eyes, a broken sob leaving him as he hides his head in his hands. And all the older man does is rub his back comfortingly until his sobs have been reduced to occasional sniffles. Only then does he speak again.

"Feeling better?" Steve nods, once, before stopping and shaking his head. Evan chuckles, his gruff voice is oddly comforting. "Ah, here I was thinking you had been taking all these changes a little too well."

"I'm used to rolling with the punches." Steve tries offering him a smile but it comes out looking more like a grimace so he ends up giving it up altogether. He hates how true that statement is but Evan understands.

(Somehow, he always understands when it comes to Steve's parents.)

They are both quiet after that, the silence comforting were it not for the way Steve's stomach roiled with his guilt. He had to say something, apologize, or the shame would eat him alive.

"Look, I'm... I'm sorry I went out to town without telling anyone but it's just- I was homesick, and I missed my friends so much, and I basically left without giving Dustin an expl-" He's babbling out of nervousness, excuses spooling out of him like worn thread but he pauses once Evan settles his heavy hand on his shoulder. Big hands. Hands capable of drawing the softest of portraits with as much ease as they could choke out a deer.

"I'm not mad, pup." Steve has to bite his cheek at that to stop his eyes from filling up with tears again over something so silly as a word. "Kinda expected you to eventually do it. Had Danny's cat familiar follow you last night just to make sure you would be okay."

Steve thinks he should feel offended by that last bit of information but he honestly cannot give a fuck when he's basically swimming in the relief that courses through him at Evan's words. He knows and he isn't mad. Knows and doesn't blame him for showing weakness.

(Knows and still loves him.)

Evan smiles, barely an upturn of his lips but it's there and his words are soft when he says, "Go to bed, pup."

He does. And for the first time in a while, he doesn't dream at all.

[cygnetofthesea]

Love Language, Part III

Westallen Fic: Didn’t think I was going to add to this series but here it is, over two years later. Hope you guys like it! AO3

Barry stood leaning against the counter, biting the pad of his thumb. He felt warm as his hooded eyes tracked Iris's movements, roving over her lovely form.

Dimly he was aware that he should be helping or at least reassuring her that everything was perfect just as it was, but his distraction, his desire kept him transfixed right where he was.

It was the first dinner party they were having after a grueling year of sparing the world from one disaster after another and Iris wanted to celebrate before the next big bad came along. Barry, on the other hand, wanted what he always wanted: Iris.

She was arranging some appetizers and desserts on the kitchen counter, her own creations, and he was happy that she was happy about them. She had been practicing, painstakingly attempting the recipes until she perfected them. He wanted their friends to enjoy her accomplishments, but he wanted her more.

She turned away, muttering to herself about the arrangements when he caught the back of her dress. It was only half zipped. He felt a dip in his stomach, his muscles clenching. That patch of skin, that zipper tantalizing low on her body was now the most hypnotizing thing as her dress shifted wider with her movements.

As though in a trance, he finally moved and walked toward her. Soon his fingers found her skin and he could have wept in relief. Why had he been depriving himself of her skin again? Did it really matter that their guests were due to arrive in half an hour?

Barry often found himself simultaneously paralyzed by Iris's beauty and desperate for her touch, desperate to inhale and absorb her into himself. He was now in the second phase in which he      needed    to touch her. His eyes had gotten their fill and now it was his skin's turn.

He spread his fingers out against her back feeling her jump in surprise.

"Oh! Yeah, can you zip that up for me, babe?" She asked, arranging her dark chocolate brownies on the platter artistically.

Instead of heeding her request however, he spread his hands out further across her back until the rest of the dress zipped down to the base of her waist. He gripped her newly bare waist, hearing her gasp against his ear as he pressed a hot kiss against her neck.

Her body instinctively arched into his touch, leaning into him even as she admonished him.

"Barry, we have guests coming over soon."

"Why is that again?" he mumbled against her throat, letting his hand travel to the front of her still trapped under dress. "Let's cancel."

She stopped his hands from going any further, placing her own atop his through her dress; the straps were dangerously close to falling off her shoulders.

She craned her neck toward him with a breathless chuckle, kissing his hair. She could never not find him so endearing. Even as he groped her inappropriately when they were expecting visitors.

Planting another kiss to his head, she removed his hands from her body, ignoring his grumbling whine. Careful of her dress, she turned to face his pouting face.

"Honey, we need this. We haven't had a moment with our family that wasn't us trying to defeat some new evil. It'll be nice to be in each other's presence because we're doing something      fun    for once."

His pout didn’t let up but he nodded in understanding. "Yeah, I guess you're right," he sighed. "I just want you all to myself."

She tipped her head back with a laugh, wrapping her arms around his neck. He was only too happy to return her embrace, his hands finding her skin once again.

"Oh yeah?" She asked, her eyes glittering with mirth. "Last night and this morning wasn't enough?"

He shook his head. "Nuh-uh, not nearly enough." His eyes softened as he looked at her, his heart clenching in his chest. She was everything to him and while he was grateful for every single second with her, he would always be greedy for more.

And with that thought he tilted her head back and claimed her lips, pressing against her. She let out a gasp, returning his kiss with fervor and he slid his hands down her neck, along her shoulder blades and across her back. His touch hot and firm against her skin, digging as though he wanted to bury himself inside her.

He groaned into her lips, deepening the kiss as he got drunk from her taste, the soft, silken touch of her skin. He would always be starving for her. He needed to feel more of her, he needed to get closer.

He pressed her against the counter, melding their bodies together. "Barry," Iris sighed, gripping his shoulders tightly as he slid his scorching lips across her throat. Her intoxicating scent filled his senses and it reminded him of the moment they shared in the shower that morning, how he kissed this very skin before lathering it with her soap.

He pulled her skin between his lips, licking at it as he slipped the strap of her maxi dress off her shoulder.

That seemed to break Iris out of their bubble. She pulled away breathlessly. "Barry, they're going to be here any minute."

 As though she summoned them, they heard Cisco call out from the partially opened door. "Knock, knock!"

 In a flash, Barry straightened Iris's dress, zipping it      up    this time and made sure she looked presentable the way she had wanted before he mussed up her appearance with his ardent attentions.

 "Hey guys!" Iris greeted them, gracefully turning to host mode. "Come on in."

 Despite Barry's efforts, however,      he    didn't feel presentable, hiding behind Iris as he shifted his pants. When he looked up he found Caitlin and Cisco looking at him suspiciously while Ralph smirked.

 "Did we interrupt something?" he said nodding toward Barry.

 Iris turned to look at him and let out an embarrassed laugh. "My lipstick is on you," she murmured, reaching up to swipe at the corner of his lips. He leaned down to make it easier for her, his hand instinctively slipping across her back, under one of her straps.

 He caught the raised eyebrows from his friends and shrugged sheepishly. "What? You know touch is my love language."

 Or perhaps it was just Iris.

[cali-holland]

Only a Mark- Shawn Mendes One Shot (Hogwarts AU)

Pairing: Shawn Mendes X Malfoy!Reader

Prompt: When you’re forced to become a Death Eater, your relationship with Shawn is at stake.

Word Count: 1900

A/N: I recently found this- I wrote it months ago so oops??

~~~

“I’m scared.” Your voice trembled as Shawn tightened his arms around you. You cried softly into his chest as he held you in the Astronomy Tower.

“It’s going to be okay. You’re okay, we’re okay.” Shawn said, running a hand up and down your spine gently.

“What if it’s not okay?” You asked, stepping back and looked at him through your teary eyes. Shawn wiped away the tears rolling down your face with his thumb, cupping your face in his hands.

“It will be okay, We’ll get through this.” He whispered. He didn’t know how to calm you down besides simply being there and holding you. It wasn’t the first time you had suffered an anxiety attack over the future, but it was the first major one he had witnessed.

Yesterday, Harry Potter and his friends, your schoolmates, had gone to the Ministry and fought your father with his companions. The news of Voldemort’s return and Sirius Black’s death traveled through the school and the cruel looks from your schoolmates scared you.

“You’re going to be okay. He won’t get you, I promise. I’ll protect you.”

“You can’t protect me, Shawn, not from my own family.” You replied, softly.

“I’ll do the best that I can.” It was silent for a moment, before he spoke up once more, “Are you going to become a Death Eater?”

“No.” You said. You leaned in to give him a kiss, hoping he didn’t catch your lie. After a moment in his warm embrace, you pulled away and reached into your pocket. You took out a ring and held it out to Shawn. “I wanted to give you this.”

“It’s wonderful. Thank you.” He grabbed it from your open palm and slid it onto his finger. It was a casual ring, nothing too fancy with an intricate lion and snake on it to represent your house and his.

“Promise me that you’ll never take it off?” You asked quietly.

“Promise.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” 

“Y/N, wake up.” A loud voice called you away from your dream, or really your memories. You opened your eyes with a yawn to see your twin brother standing in your doorway.

“What do you want, Draco?” You asked, stretching your arms.

“We’re going to Knockturn Alley soon. You should get ready.” He spoke solemnly before leaving your room without another word. You could tell he wasn’t thrilled about what today would include, and you weren’t either.

As you got ready for the day, you couldn’t help but think of Shawn. You felt guilty because you hadn’t told him about today; you knew he’d never stay with you if he knew you were a Death Eater. Lying to him and siding with Voldemort was not something you wanted to do- you had to do it. Originally, your father had threatened your life over the issue, but, then, he discovered about Shawn. With your only weakness exposed, you had no choice but to follow your father’s orders.

You were scared to go to Knockturn Alley, where you and Draco would go through the ceremony of becoming Death Eaters. You knew there was no going back from today, but you had to go through with it. The last thing you wanted was for Shawn to get hurt because of you.

“Y/N, are you almost ready?” You heard Draco’s voice come through your bedroom door.

“Almost.” You replied. You quietly sat down at your desk, hearing him walk off down the hall. Opening the desk drawer, you pulled out a small black box.

“Show me Shawn.” You spoke softly to the box in your hands. It opened to reveal an image of Shawn eating breakfast. The view was partially obstructed, as it was the ring on his finger providing it. You could see his smile though as he talked to his family. You felt reassured as you knew he was safe- that was all you really needed. You wouldn’t see him for a week, not until you returned to Hogwarts. Putting away the box, you left your room, ready for your day.

~~~

“I missed you.” Shawn said, pulling you tightly against him on the platform. You couldn’t help your smile as you held onto him.

“I missed you too.” You replied. He pulled away to cup your face in his hands, pulling you right back into him for a kiss.

“So, how was the end of your summer?” He asked as you two finally separated. You both gathered your belongings and got onto the train.

“Boring and rather uneventful.” You said, “And yours? How’s Aaliyah?”

“She can’t wait until next year.” He replied, “I hope she’s a Gryffindor too.”

“Slytherin’s not all bad.” You teased as the two of you found an empty compartment. You put your bags up before taking a seat beside the window. You felt your left arm begin to sting as Shawn sat beside you, wrapping one of his arms around your waist casually.

“You okay?” Shawn asked, noticing the look of discomfort that crossed your face.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You replied, “Just didn’t sleep well the past few nights.”

“Is everything okay?” He asked, now more concerned.

“I’m tired, that’s it. I’m okay in general.” You explained with a playful tone. You snuggled into his side as he began to talk to you about his upcoming Quidditch tryouts.

~~~

“You look beautiful.” Shawn said, taking your hand in his as the two of you walked down the hallways to Slughorn’s Christmas party.

“You’ve seen me wear this before.” You laughed.

“It’s still beautiful.” He replied, kissing your hand gently.

“Thank you. You look pretty good too.”

He laughed at your response before opening the door to the party, holding it open for you. When you walked in, you were surprised by the rather upbeat atmosphere of the party. Cameras flashed as photographers took pictures of guests and the band was playing lively music. You and Shawn mingled your way through the crowd.

“Oh, hello, Shawn, Y/N.” The airy voice of Luna Lovegood called out to the two of you. She smiled warmly at you.

“Luna, how have you been?” Shawn asked. He took the lead of the conversation with his fellow Gryffindor, knowing how uncomfortable you felt around anyone close to Harry Potter. It wasn’t that you had anything against them, but you felt that you didn’t belong with them, no matter what Shawn said. Now, with a hidden dark mark on your skin, you knew that you didn’t belong with your peers. Shawn was the exception; you knew you had to keep his close enough so that you could protect him from your father.

“I found this one lurking about outside.” You heard the recognizable voice of Filch coming from across the room.

“Get your hands off me.” Draco exclaimed with a disgusted look on his face. All eyes fell on your brother.

“I’ll escort him out.” Snape said to Slughorn. He took Filch’s place in taking Draco from the party.

“Y/N,” Shawn said as he turned to you.

“I have to go.” You replied quickly, before following after your twin. When Snape finished his lecture, you pulled Draco around the corner to speak with him.

“What are you doing out here?” Draco asked you, clearly annoyed from his earlier incident.

“I was coming to check on you.” You said.

“I don’t need your help.”

“Draco, we’re in this together. I can help you.”

“If we’re really in this together, then why are you acting like everything is fine? Why am I the only one working on that cabinet?” He questioned. He pulled up his sleeve to expose his mark, making you take a step back with a grimace on your face. “See, you’re more terrified than I am. At least I don’t hide mine like you do.”

“Draco-” You placed your hand over where your mark would be, if you didn’t have a spell hiding it. You let out a small shriek as your brother grabbed your left arm and pointed his wand at it.

“Revelio.” He said, and the black ink began to make its way back onto your skin. You pulled your arm back, covering it again with your hand. “I wonder if father knows that you cast a spell over that boyfriend of yours.”

“How did you know about that?” You asked. He let out an annoyed laugh, and you almost broke down as he pulled the familiar velvet box from his pocket.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t recognize it? You’re clever, sister, but you can’t beat me. A shield charm laced with a tracker- you really outdid yourself with this.”

“Draco, please. Shawn’s all I have.” You went to grab the box from his hands and halted when he pointed his wand at you.

“You chose wrong, Y/N.” You saw fear flicker in his eyes as he spoke. You thought you knew that he’d never intentionally hurt you, that he was only acting irrationally because of Voldemort, but you were afraid of Draco now, afraid that your brother was now long gone. You watched as Draco looked behind you down the hall. He scoffed as he lowered his wand. He tossed the box back to you and stormed off without another word. As you looked at the box, you sighed in relief. Draco knew your secret now, but at least you could still attempt to keep Shawn safe.

“Y/N,” Shawn’s voice cracked as he spoke. You jumped, turning around to see him standing at the end of the hallway behind you. His eyes fell down to your exposed arm, and you quickly hid it.

“Shawn, it’s not-” You said, reaching for him. He stepped back with a broken look on his face, “How much of that did you hear?”

“Enough of it.” Shawn replied. “You said you wouldn’t become one. You said you wouldn’t.”

“I-”

“And this,” He took off the ring and held it up, “This was just a charm?”

“No, Shawn. Please, let me explain.” Tears began to form in your eyes as he finally rested his eyes on you. There was only fear in his eyes- fear of you. “My father- he said he’d hurt you if I didn’t follow through with his plan. I just got so scared, and I thought the ring would be enough to keep you safe if I wasn’t there. Yes, it’s charmed to track you, but that was just in case you got taken somehow, and the protection spell kept any Death Eaters from attacking you. I didn’t know what to do, and I didn’t want you to leave me because then I wouldn’t be able to protect you as much.”

“You’re a Death Eater, Y/N.” He said, his bottom lip shook with concern.

“Shawn, please, it’s not like that. I had to, but I’d never actually hurt anyone.” You tried to reason. “I was just trying to protect you.”

He let out a small sigh and put the ring back on his hand. He gently grabbed your hands in his. “Let me help you. I’m sure Harry-”

“I don’t think Harry can help me. I don’t think anyone can help me now.” You replied.

“He can try. I’m sure Dumbledore can keep you safe from your family.” Shawn said.

“I’m scared.”

“I know, but we’re going to be okay. I told you I’d protect you, and you’ve been protecting me this whole time, so let me protect you now.” He pulled you into his safe embrace, reassuring you that somehow, some way, the two of you would make it through this war.

[sinningismywinning]

I’ll See You At The Finish Line - 2

AN: (This was suppose to be a oneshot lol, but everyone wanted a part 2! I hope I lived up to everyone’s expectations. As always, feedback is always fantastic.)   

Timid hands, and nimble fingers. Your luggage was heavier than when you first enlisted with it. This wasn’t because you carried relics from your time at war. It was because your small frame, had simply gotten smaller.

   You weren’t one for makeup, and you doubted that you ever would be. Rouge coated your cheeks. A clash against your pale, cold skin. It acted poorly to hide your under eyes. Hopefully the men wouldn’t notice, but you knew that Polly would.

   They weren’t sure of when you’d be coming home. They knew it would be up to a month after the boys arrival. They waited anxiously. Checking the mail slot for any letters, waiting for an update of your departure to Small Heath.

   You hung your head, almost as if embarrassed. You knew that Polly was besides herself with contempt of you leaving. Ada had told you so, through her letters. More often than not, you’d be too upset to respond. Your mind couldn’t conjure the boys reaction to your enlistment. Would they be proud? Supportive? Angry? Disappointed?

   You stared down at the pavement. Turn the knob. Push yourself inside. You were practically a war hero right? They couldn’t stay mad forever. Your hands were sweating. The handle on your luggage was gaining ounces by the minute. Your heart was to your knees and you felt a knot in your throat. Don’t cry, don’t throw up, don’t pass out.

   This was suppose to be a celebration. A reunion of family. It had been two years, and at the end of it all, they were everything you had. You were numb, but somehow feeling it all at the same time. You made it home. You were home now. You were safe. Your med-tent wasn’t being ambushed. Men weren’t dying at your hands.

   Your eyes stitched shut. Hot tears threatening to spill out. Get it together. You’re home now, it’s okay, it’s fine.

                                 Until it wasn’t.

    It wouldn’t be okay if Arthur yelled in your face about how stupid you were to leave. If Polly broke down sobbing, saying she figured you dead.  And Thomas. You wouldn’t be able to speak to him.

    You had a glaze in your eyes. You’ve been through so much. So much pain, suffering, deprivation. Yet, this felt like one of the hardest things you’d have to do. Opening a fucking door? You started shaking your head. At any minute one of them could walk out. Catch you standing there like a deer in headlights.

   What if you opened the door and none of them were inside? What if John perished in war? If Arthur couldn’t be found? Thomas, a prisoner of war? Your mind wouldn’t stop. Your hands began to shake. You set your bags down and rubbed at your cheeks. Deal with things when they happen. They could be fine.

   Your breathing was shaky. Some would say erratic. Your hands moved to your neck and you pressed down. One... Two... Three. You looked absolutely insane. Panicking on a doorstep, in the slums of England. You weren’t calm, not in the slightest. Rip the fucking band-aid off. Get it done with. Heal faster.

   The tremors in your hands made the doorknob feel like jello. Open the fucking door. Tears were welling up more-so than what you had expected. Tear off the band-aid. Don’t be weak, open the fucking door!

   At first, no one had even noticed that you walked in. Bags still outside. Tears down your face, and weight lost on you. They hadn’t a clue that you welcomed yourself inside.

   John and Polly were singing in the kitchen. Arthur tapped his hand on the table. The clank of his ring hitting the surface was on par with Johns awful singing. Thomas sat on the other side of Arthur, drinking straight from a bottle.

        It was such a beautiful sight to see. You felt a tightness in your chest.

   “Y/N?” Ada stopped in her tracks. She was coming downstairs when she saw you. You were whiter than the plates in the cabinet. Words were stuck in your throat. Your mouth was open to speak, but no noise came out.

   The sound of your name made everyone turn. Tommy rose from his chair, expecting it to be a joke. 

   They were all alive. All home. All happy. That was, until you came in.

   The disdain on Pollys face was obvious. Her eyes immediately welled up. She didn’t want to speak to you, but all she did was stare with disbelief. John was the first one to approach you. He ran out of the kitchen, practically picking you up. Ada ran downstairs to stand next to Polly.

   You felt like you were run over by a carriage. He squeezed you tightly, and broke down before you could get the chance. “Fucks wrong with you?” His arms stayed wrapped. “Couldn’t stand to be away from us?” He questioned lightly with tears down his face. He still smelled like cigars.

   Arthur approached you next. He stood with John and looked at you as if you were broken. You were. He was never good with words, especially ones meant for comfort. He stood to the side sheepishly. You were crying, and it wasn’t until John pulled away that you had noticed.

   They lost weight. Scars on their neck. On their chin. Johns face wasn’t as red as usual, and Arthur wasn’t sporting his mustache. Their hair was cropped shorter than what you were use to.

   “I know.. I’m sorry,” Your voice wavered but you mustered a smile. Arthur grabbed you. His hug wasn’t as tight as Johns, but he held you momentarily. He didn’t speak. Partially because he didn’t know what to say. His embrace said everything better than what he could. “Don’t be sorry,” John tried to comfort. He was more sympathetic than before.

   They missed you. It’s not like they wouldn’t, but being so far away only made you fear the worst. Polly shook her head from the kitchen and left to go out-back. Your smile fell. Ada shot you an apologetic look, but you understood. She followed Pol into the yard.

   Arthur stepped back from you. “You think what you did was okay?” Thomas snapped from the kitchen. He set down the near-emptied whiskey bottle. His eyes didn’t leave yours. 

   This was when one of your brothers would chime in, and defend you, but they didn’t. They knew Thomas was right, and they’d only jump in if he took it too far.

   “Trailing behind us, aye?” He took slow steps towards you. “Playing soldier in the only way you could?” You hung your head, feeling shame for something you should be proud of. “A nurse Y/N, really?” He beckoned. His words cut you deep. At least Polly had the courtesy to walk away. Thomas was going to let his mouth run, and he’d be damned if you tried to stop that.

   “Are you.. fucking MAD?” His tone raised. “Med-tents were being bombed left and right, THAT’S why they needed more nurses,” he was drunk. Upset. Broken. “You were too fucking stupid to figure that out.” He snickered. John looked at Tommy in disapproval of his words. “She deserves as much respect as we do Thomas,” John threatened.

   Thomas looked to John, and all he did was raise a finger and point. He laughed momentarily. A thought of his own had amused him. He wasn’t being disrespectful, he was being logical. He decided against speaking, and didn’t comment further. His hand dropped and he turned back to you. “I’m here, aren’t I?” you quipped. “Well what if you weren’t! What then? What if I wasn’t here?” His temperament changed again. “What if John wasn’t here, Arthur wasn’t here!” He shouted. Emotions cracked his voice.

   This wasn’t Tommy. This wasn’t your older brother who pushed you in the mud and helped you build forts in the living room. This wasn’t the man who slipped you your first shot after breaking in to Polly’s liquor cabinet. That Thomas was gone. The war changed him. Took something, and you weren’t sure if he’d get it back. He was a broken soldier. A tortured mind.

   Underneath his eyes, the skin was purple. Surrounded by grey. He was as washed out as you were. His eyes were no longer deep blue, they were cold. Stiff. Hardened. “You weren’t here when I came back,” he threw it in your face. “At the finish line,” he quoted. 

   Arthur and John couldn’t bare to look at him. They exchanged glances and panned to you. “I just wanted to help. I wanted to make a change-” Tears were threatening. You had hurt the one person you didn’t want to hurt. He had to deal with his nightmares by himself. Manage things by himself.

   Arthur hadn’t seen him this emotional since before the war. You on the other hand, have never seen him hurt, quite like this. It broke you more. You couldn’t argue with him. He was right. You could have easily stayed home. Not gotten involved. Kept your sanity in one piece. But you didn’t.

   He moved closer to you, and you swore you thought he was going to shove you. Push you into a wall. Anything. His glossy eyes stared deep into you. Arthur and John were anticipating anything from him. Ready to tell him to fuck off, or leave you alone. “Don’t make promises, that you can’t keep-” You rushed him while he was mid-sentence. Your arms tangled around him, and you refused to let go. He could yell, try to pry you off, even bite you, but you weren’t letting go.

   His body tensed like there was an ice cube in his shirt. He froze and you heard the small gasp he made. Shocked at the sudden contact. “I shouldn’t have left. I’m sorry.” Was all you could muster up to say.

   John and Arthur were kicking themselves, wondering what the fuck was going on. Arthur eyed Thomas, seeing his response.

   It was slow, and if you didn’t pay attention, surely you’d miss it. His arms wrapped around you. He managed to find comfort in the embrace. He wasn’t yelling. He wasn’t shaking. His eyes shut tightly. “I’m real bad Y/N,” He spoke lowly, trying to pace his breath. “I can’t fucking do this without you,” You knew he was close to tears.

   “You wont have to do it without me,” You whispered back to him. “This is the finish line. I’m home, you’re home. We aren’t away anymore.” You reassured lightly. You felt him nod into your shoulder, but he didn’t let go.

   This was suppose to be the other way around. He had tried to be strong. To not cry, to not break down. He’d do anything in his power to sleep. To forget everything. You were his adviser. His support system. His sister.

   He should have known that all along, you’d be the one to hold him in the end.

 @alliemariee15 @terrazaurio @reb0rned @oh-the-books @amirahiddleston @i-wish-i-wish-upon-a-star @shelbyandsolomons @dbunny13 @lovemissyhoneybee @captivatedbycillianmurphy @angelofdarkness2468

[kasdeyathebitterwoman]

Running Mate - Part 12

Okay, so....here’s part 12....please don’t hate me! I know I promised I’d keep the angst to a minimum, but the story kind of just wrote itself and....well....I can tell you that I’ve already started Part 13 so you won’t have to wait long for an answer....I love you, please don’t hate me! 😂

Adult Content, 18+, NSFW

Word Count: 3,844

CW: confrontation, mention of cheating, un-protected sex, penetration, oral sex

taglist:

@maeleeme @andyrazzledazzle @oddsnendsfanfics @fanfictionaddiction99 @jhenno2002 @mitzwinchester @xceafh @henrycavillluv32 @severuined @queenslandlover-93 @thummbelina @chamomilebottom @deep-in-my-thoughts13 @henryslilprincess @constip8merm8 

After your conversation with Kyle, you made the decision to listen to him - and your gut. It was the right decision because Henry turned out to be the man you wanted and needed. More than once, outsiders attempted to tear apart your relationship with Henry, but the two of you stood strong.

Less than a month after your return from Peru, there were multiple stories stating that Henry was back with Lucy. Several fan sites shared “sources” that proved the two were back together. Many had cellphone footage of the two of them sharing scenes while filming in Arizona. Thanks to your family and friends, you were able to let all of this roll off of your back. It also helped that Henry made a point to video chat with you once a week.

“You do realize we didn’t even do this when you were filming The Witcher?” you state one Sunday morning a few weeks after he’d left. It was after 10 in the morning for you, which meant it was after 6 in the evening where Henry was.  

“I know and I’m trying to change, y/n,” Henry replied. “It’s this crazy thing people do when they love someone and they want them to feel comfortable in their relationship,” he states, giving you a smug smile. You squint at him.

“Is it though?” you ask, in a high-pitched, squeaky voice. Henry squints back, his mouth twitching with all the sarcastic things you want to say. You giggle at his attempts to remain composed.

“You are such a little minx,” Henry mutters through clenched teeth, chuckling as you continue to giggle. “God, I miss your smile,” he groans so you smile broadly at him through the camera. Even through Henry’s laptop microphone, you can hear Kal growling at something outside the trailer. Henry shushes him and the little moment pulls at your heart strings.

“I miss you as well,” you sigh. Henry turns his attention back to the camera, his features softened a little after your statement. “It’s too quiet around here,” you state. As you say that, the washing machine dings loudly in the other room. “Actually, give me one second sugar. I need to move my laundry,” you stand up and dart over to the washing machine. Quickly, you move your clothes then saunter back to the dining room table where your computer is set up.

“Y/n?” Henry questions as you are sitting back down. “What are you wearing?” he ask. You glance down at the teal hoodie that Henry left behind, then smile back up at him.

“A hoodie,” you say brightly with another broad smile. Henry chuckles.

“And?” he pushes.

“A hoodie,” you repeat, smiling devilishly. Henry’s lips are pursed and they twitch ever so slightly.

“You mean to tell me, we’ve been having a video chat for the last twenty minutes and I am only just now finding out you are partially naked?” he asks. You bite down on your bottom lip. “Not only that, you are wearing my hoodie,” he adds, taking a closer inspection. You grin goofily at him.

“Yes, but, there is a reason,” you say and Henry heartily chuckles.

“Oh, please tell me, because I’d love to hear this,” he says with a sly smile. You cock your head to the side and squint at him.

“Okay, going to ignore the ‘tude for a moment,” you say, clicking your tongue. Henry laughs and his shoulders shake. “So the reason is, really, I’m just trying to help you,” you say quickly. Henry raises his eyebrows and laughs short and quickly.

“You’re helping me?”

“As a matter of fact, I am,” you assert. “See, I remember you saying that when you’re away, the AC is off at your place. Since I’m here now, it means it won’t be off all the time, costing you money,” Henry chuckles and a soft smile lingers on his lips. “So I’m keeping it off for the most part, despite the fact that it’s been incredibly hot here in London,” you stop and watch Henry. He’s got his chin resting in the palm of one hand, watching you.

“Please go on, I’m absolutely riveted,” he says dryly.

“Again, ignoring the ‘tude,” you continue. “Long story short, the AC has been off in the house and I have been wearing a limited wardrobe,” you tell him. Henry’s eyebrows raise.

“Limited wardrobe?” he repeats. Your mouth twitches with a smile you are trying hard to hide. “Let me get this straight. While I’ve been away, you’ve been walking around the house in my hoodies and shorts,” he declares. You suck in your bottom lip.

“My friend, you are greatly overstating what I meant by limited wardrobe,” you reply. Then you sit back and watch as his expression changes from confusion to understanding. His mouth opens and closes a few times before he speaks.

“So why are you wearing my hoodie then?” he asks desperately.

“I got cold,” you explain slowly and quietly. Henry stares at you for a brief moment before a wide grin breaks out across his face and loud, hearty laughter fills the air. You watch as his whole body shakes from laughter. You join him, feeling the tears fall down your face as you attempt to wipe them away while you giggle. After a moment, Henry calms down, smiling wide and goofy and wiping the tears away from his eyes.

“Oh my god, I’m never turning the AC on ever again,” he mutters as another fit of giggles takes over him.

“Between your body hair and Kal’s, you’ll barely make it a day,” you reply and Henry rolls his eyes at you.

“You think I don’t know how to handle extreme temperatures?”

“Oh, don’t play the Mission Impossible card! It’s old and tired,” you retort. Henry scoffs and proceeds to talk over you so it ends up just being the two of you talking loudly at each other through your cameras. It all ends in another fit of giggles while Henry watches you with a loving look.

“Fuck, I miss being able to kiss you whenever I want,” he says suddenly, having calmed down. You smile sweetly at him.

“I miss you too, sugar,” you say to him. He smiles back, sighing. “How much longer will you be in Arizona?”

“A few more weeks,” he replies, sighing. The two of you talk a little while longer before you tell him you have to get back to work. The next several weeks, you fall into a routine. You spend as much time as possible working on research and development for your documentary with Callie, Peter and the rest of the team at National Geographic. James sends you extra work for his new project, so that keeps you busy as well.

Eventually, the weeks do pass and Henry is on the return trip from the states. The morning of he and Kal are supposed to be back, you wake up early and clean the place up. Half way through, you get a text from Henry saying there was a delay with the flight and he’ll be back later than expected. Though it saddens you, you tell him no worries and continue cleaning. Since you have extra time, you head into the office to help Callie with some technical issues. She called you in hysterics because her research files went missing. Turns out, they got saved in the wrong folder, which then got deleted.

Back at the house, you are at your desk working on edits when the front door bursts open. Henry and Kal come clamoring in. He doesn’t see you at first, but when he turns around, he stops in his tracks.

“Hey sugar,” you croon, standing up from the table. Henry drops the bag he’s hold and makes a beeline for you. Your grunt is muffled as he wraps you up in his beefy arms. He squeezes you gently when your hands snake around his waist. After a moment, he loosens his hold on you so he can look down at you with those baby blues. His hands drop down to your hips and he sighs, taking you in.

“Hi,” he murmurs. A wide, goofy grin that you can’t stop breaks out across your face. Henry mirrors you and you can’t help from laughing as he leans down and kisses you. The kiss is obviously hungry as his tongue pushes past your lips, searching for yours. He moans softly into you as your hands slide up to his shoulders. A knock at the door breaks your concentration. You sigh and lean into him.

“Don’t answer it” you whisper.

“It’s probably my assistant, I have to,” he groans, though he doesn’t let go of you immediately. Only when there is another round of knocking does he reluctantly detangle himself from your embrace. You watch as he strides to the door, pauses, then opens it with a smile. As predicted, Leah was there with some forms that needed to be signed. You chatted with her about her relaxation plans now that Henry was back from the states. She tells you about her stay-cation ideas among other things. Once everything is signed and dated, Henry gently escorts her to the front door. You wave and call out goodbye to her as he closes to door, then he turns to face you. Quietly, you close the gap between you and him, placing your hands on his hips, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

“I have to walk Kal,” he whispers. Your fingers skillfully tug open his belt.

“Then go walk him,”

“I will,”

“Mhmm,” you murmur. You look up at him and see him swallow hard. With one movement, Henry’s hands are on your hips, lifting you up. You wrap your legs around his thick waist and your hands snake through his hair. Your lips collide with his for an intense kiss that sends shivers down your spine. Holding you tightly against his body, Henry walks up the stairs to the bedroom. You kiss and nibble at his jaw line, smiling with every grunt and labored breath he pushes out of his nose. He lays you on the bed and immediately begins to tear at your jeans. He’s forceful and clumsy as his fingers rip apart the button and yank at the zipper. You laugh heartily as he grunts, pulling down hard from the top of your jeans.

Once they are off, his hands caress your hips and thighs. Then he leans down and begins kissing the warm skin just above your panty line. Your breath comes in shuddering waves as you sigh, realizing just how much you missed this man. Your fingers move through his hair. A loud gasp escapes from you when Henry nibbles ever so slightly on your inner thigh. The heat radiating from between your legs drives you forward. You push him up, sitting up as well and begin pulling at his pants. With a little more dexterity, you unhook the button, pull the zipper and help him as Henry begins to push his pants down. You can see him bulging through his boxer briefs. You bite your lip and glance up at his blue eyes. They are staring down at you intently. Suddenly, his large hands are on your small shoulders, pushing you down, pressing his lips firmly into yours. Together, you move away from the edge of the bed to the middle, with Henry’s weight on top of you. His hips rock into yours and a deep moan vibrates through your body. Henry’s fingers dig into the flesh of your hips, searching frantically for the line of your underwear. Once he has it, he yanks with determination, pulling them clean off on one side. Your hands haven’t been idle though. Sliding down his back, you push your hands up under his shirt. With his help, you pull it off of him, revealing his hard and chiseled body underneath.

Wasting no time, Henry pulls your shirt off as well. His briefs follow suit quickly with your underwear coming off immediately afterward. Without a word, Henry uses his knee to open your legs a little wider, then holding onto your hips, slowly he slides himself inside of you and sighs.

“Henry,” you gasp. Your toes curl into the mattress and your hips press up into his as you arch your back to allow him in further. You tip your head back, moaning, and Henry takes advantage of the moment. He leans down, kissing the exposed skin of your neck, causing you to moan louder. “Oh god, Henry,” you moan. You can feel every inch of him inside of you, opening you up and pushing against your walls. “Henry,” you whisper, pressing your lips into his ear. He groans, pushing deeper into you.

“I missed you,” Henry says breathlessly. “God, I missed you,” he grunts, thrusting his hips faster. You dig your nails into his shoulders, pulling them down his back. You can feel his tight muscles, coiled and shifting with every movement.

“Oh Henry,” you murmur. You nibble on his earlobe which causes Henry to groan deeply. His hips convulse and thrust into you with fervor. The two of you moan together as your hips slow his and find a rhythm with him. You rock with him for a moment, clutching the nape of his neck with one hand and his broad shoulder with the other. His lips are pressed firmly against the warm skin of your neck where his face is buried. The sensation of his breath in your ear makes your skin break out in goosebumps.

“I love you,” Henry murmurs low. He grunts as his hips rock into yours. You can feel him bulging inside of you with every thrust, but those three words bring you to the height of pleasure. “I love you, y/n,” he says. You gasp as he pushes deeper into you, his hips moving faster and more desperate. Your legs wrap around his waist as you hang on to him.

“I love you, Henry,” you gasp, breathlessly. “Say it again, please,” you beg. Your fingers dig into his shoulders and Henry grunts.

“I love you. I love you, baby,” he grunts. His hips slam into yours as he pushes further, harder, and deeper into you. You barely announce that you are coming, when Henry pushes himself up. He takes a firm hold of your hips and begins pounding into you. Your body reacts at the sensation as it every thrust sends waves of pure, unadulterated pleasure throughout your body.

“Fuck!” you scream, your back arching and your hands clawing at his. Henry’s grunts get louder and more desperate as he moves faster in and out of you. He groans as he feels your walls and your legs tighten around him. He watches with complete satisfaction as you climax under him. With a few final thrusts, he finishes as well and collapses half on and half off of you, breathing heavy and laboriously. You peer at him out of the corner of your eye. He’s looking at you through half closed eyes, smiling sleepily.

“You are,” he starts, pausing to suck in deep breaths.

“Beautiful, amazing, incredible,” you say for him, glancing at him sideways.

“Dangerous,” he states. You close your eyes and laugh heartily.

“Oh whatever,” you yell, playfully batting at his shoulder. He laughs, rolling onto his side and scooting closer to your body.

“Completely and utterly dangerous,” he leans down and begins leaving feather light kisses along your collarbone. You close your eyes and sigh.

“Mm, you’re one to talk,” you say, sucking in a breath as the stubble on Henry’s chin grazes your breast. “I’d say you’re the mayor of Danger City right about now,” Henry smiles and glances up at you. He keeps his eyes on yours as he leans down and places his lips gently on your nipple. Your eyes close involuntarily and you gasp.

“And I’m the dangerous one?” you question him. “There is no way you are ready to go again,” you add, opening your eyes and look down at his smiling face.

“I have not had your body within reach for four and a half months,” he murmurs, running his lips across your other nipple sending shivers throughout your body. “Yes, little minx, I am ready to go again,” then he takes your nipple in his mouth, circling the sensitive and tender skin with his tongue. You moan, pushing your chest up toward his mouth; a silent beg for him to continue. But his actions are interrupted by Kal’s sudden and frantic barking downstairs. You can hear him scrambling around on the hardwood floors down stairs.

“Damn,” Henry groans and you giggle. He gives you his trademarked raised eyebrow look. “Oh, you’re not getting out of this that easily, little minx,” he says, pushing himself up and off the bed. Then he grabs your wrist and pulls you up with him. The two of you get dressed and proceed to take Kal for a walk. He holds your hand firmly the whole time, keeping you close to him when you have to stop for Kal. Since you hadn’t planned for dinner, the three of you walk to a corner store nearby to pick up supplies. Henry requested that you make the lasagna again. That night, he takes his time running his lips over every inch of your body. The next morning you wake up to a flurry of kisses across your bare shoulders. When he realizes you’re awake, his hands begin to gently trace along your backside. Feeling feisty after the night before, you push him back down on to the mattress.

Tossing your leg over, you straddle his waist. With sleepy and a sleepy smile, you bend down and kiss him, feeling his arms wrap around you. You suck on that bottom lip that you love so much and watch as it sends him into a frenzy. Riding this wave, you let go of his lip and shimmy down his body. The satisfied sigh that shudders out of him when you take his whole length in your mouth makes you happy and you take your time. Henry tangles his fingers throughout your hair, moaning and gasping at the things your tongue does. You smile, content that you are able to make the man easily three times your size squirm with pleasure.

For the next week and a half, you’re never far from Henry’s touch. He finds any and every opportunity to run his fingers across any exposed skin he sees and you love it. Every morning you wake up in his arms and every night you fall asleep to the sound of his heartbeat. Every morning you sip coffee with him in the backyard and every night the two of you rediscover each other in every sense of the word. When you have to go into the office, he comes to take you out to lunch, even bringing Callie and Peter along as well. Two weeks after Henry was back, you made plans to see Callie.

“I’m heading out, sugar,” you say to him, throwing your bag over your shoulder.

“Where are you off to?” he asks.

“I told you yesterday. I’m heading to Callie’s for a movie night,” you tell him. He looks up at you with soft puppy dog eyes.

“Oh? What are you going to watch?”

“Some scary movie,” you tell him. “Either The Devil’s Rejects or House of A Thousand Corpses,” his eyebrows raise.

“I didn’t realize you were a Rob Zombie fan,” he says and you shrug.

“Eh, not really. I like psychological thrillers, but Callie’s obsessed and I picked the movie last time,” you explain. He smiles with understanding, then stands up to embrace you. He gives you a sweet kiss goodbye and watches you climb into an Uber and take off. At Callie’s you settle into her couch with a bowl of popcorn and your second glass of wine. She saunters in with her own bowl and glass explaining that she has changed her mind on what to watch. Pulling up Amazon Prime, she starts the one film film you truly weren’t expecting - Mission Impossible: Fallout. Quickly, you dive for your phone almost spilling the popcorn and text Henry. He replies with a laughing emoji and you send the wink and kiss emoji. Later, when the theme song begins to play, Callie films the two of you humming along and generally acting like idiots. You ask her to share the video with you. After you get it, you also send it to Henry, hoping it will make him smile. You and Callie spend the evening drinking and making silly commentary about the film. You talk about the cinematography while Callie discusses the importance of Henry’s mustache.

“It’s really quite critical for the role,” she says, clearly tipsy after her 3rd glass of wine. You giggle the whole time you listen to her, agreeing with most of her points. When the night is over, you make the trek back to your house. You are buzzed with joy and wine and smartly took an Uber there. So now you were in the back of another Uber, smiling to yourself as you remembered the hilarious commentary the two of you had throughout the film. Your phone buzzes with a message from Kyle.

Y/n, Marshall found this article a few days ago. He just showed me and I decided it should be someone you love that breaks this to you. Talk to Henry before you click the link.

You scrunch your face up as you read the text. Not fully understanding, you click the link to the article and immediately feel yourself growing cold. Your thumb scrolls through the words so they flash by without any context or meaning. You scroll to the bottom where the author claims they have pictures and that’s where you see it. Your mouth drops open and your heart stops beating for a moment.

“Ma’am,” a voice says. You’re brought back to reality; back to the back of the Uber. You realize the car is stopped because you have arrived back home.

“Thanks,” you mumble, stumbling out of the car. Buzzed and confused, you slowly make your way back inside. Henry is walking around the corner when you walk in.

“Hey, how was it?” he asks, smiling wide at you. You look up at him and immediately he knows something is wrong. “Y/n, what’s the matter?” he steps toward you, but you throw your hands up. He stops.

“Henry,” you start, your voice small. There are tears ready to fall, but you hold them back. “Did something happen between you and Lucy?” you ask. Henry’s face instantly contorts.

“What?”

"Did something happen while you were filming. With her - with Lucy?" You repeat, tripping over your words. You can't tell if it's the alcohol or the fear.

"No. What? No."

“Then why are there pictures of her kissing you online?”

[charliesradiodemon]

Charlastor Week Day 3: Cooking

(I’m cheating here lmao sorry. This one was gonna be the Human AU fic but then I had a better idea for both prompts in terms of direction

Also is this fic about a healthy relationship? Nah.

Warning: contains blood, talking about cannibalism and murder)

Day 3 Cooking 

“Alastor!“ a sharp gasp made Alastor whip his head around to the shack’s door. Blood had splattered across his wicked grin. He found the silhouette of who he recognized was Charlie standing at the door. He couldn’t see her expression due to the outside light behind her obscuring her face, but he could only imagine the delicious horror that graced her features.

The bloodthirst set in once more and the one thing he wanted to see was his lover and prey’s face twisted in horror and despair before her sweet light drained from her eyes.

It was too bad. Charlie was a special gal who was closest to his heart than anyone ever could ever get. In a way he did find a kind of love with her in their three years together. She was always lovely and interesting and the fact that she hadn’t bored him yet surprised him. It certainly was a crying shame that his favorite prey was about to meet her end now that she’d seen too much. He had no doubt that he’d miss her as he savored each delicious piece of her.

Through the obscurity, Alastor could see that she brought her clasped hands to her chest. “You...” she paused.

Alastor approached slowly, a butcher’s knife in hand. “Yes, Charlie?”

She stood in place and didn’t move. While he appreciated her thoughtfulness to not run away and just accept her fate, Alastor was partially disappointed that he couldn’t give chase to the doe. After all, they always tasted best when they desperately fought for their lives. “You’re the New Orleans Butcher...” she whispered just enough for the two of them to hear.

‘She even whispered my secret. What a lovely, thoughtful girl.’

With a wide grin, he replied with confidence. “Yes indeedy! And what are you-“ he suddenly stopped dead in his tracks unable to continue.

Once he was close enough so that the light that obscured her face dissipated, Alastor found a small smile on her lovely face. She even seemed to be suppressing a laugh even.

“And here I was worrying about that...”

His smile remained but faltered slightly at the sight. What about this situation was so funny? Did she not understand what was going on? He almost felt concerned for the strange woman. “Worrying about what my dear?” Why was this so funny to her? She was about to die by her lover’s hand!

“Alastor... I think we’ve been hiding some crazy secrets from each other.”

The man tightened his grip on the bloodied butcher’s knife in his hand. “What do you mean?”

She stepped closer with her relieved smile in place, impossibly calm as she approached slowly. “I’ve been thinking about the future a lot recently. And I know this is selfish of me, but one day I’ll have to leave. And I was thinking, when that time came I’d never see you again. I’ve always wanted to see the good in people and see them go to Heaven, but you... I-I was sure you’d go to Heaven and I’d never get to see you again. And it’s awful, but somehow... I’m relieved,” She was now in front of him, no trace of fear in her eyes. Only a soft smile full of joy and tearful relief. Alastor had no idea how to react. He couldn’t move his legs let alone lift his arm to end the odd woman.

His lover looked up at him, her brown eyes clear even under the dim light. But then she blinked and Alastor could have sworn he’d snapped. Her sclera glowed a brilliant red while the iris was a golden ring around her black pupils. The sound of something sprouting from Charlie’s head took his attention away from her eyes. Two long horns sprouted amongst rapidly growing golden hair.

“M-my word...” Alastor whispered, not knowing what else to say. His heart pounded in his chest, making him feel all sorts of emotions. But none of those emotions were negative in the slightest.

“I’m sorry if this is too much for you. I didn’t want you to see me this way.” Seeing his expression and hearing his tone, Charlie’s gaze fell to the floor in assumed dejection. She probably looked like a hideous monster to him. She acted too hastily and now she had to be ready for whatever came next.

“What are you then, my love?” The words made Charlie’s eyes widen in shock. The term of endearment truly caught her off guard and for a moment she didn’t know what to do other than look back up at him with the same shocked expression he had just a moment ago. “You can tell me Charlie.”

His expression softened back to the smile she was familiar with as if a moment ago he wasn’t planning his next meal around her. His darkened eyes were almost loving. If he was frightened at all, he was good at hiding it.

Charlie clasped her hands together, suddenly feeling awkward and shy. “I-I’m a demon. I’m from H-Hell.”

It came to Alastor as a surprise. She was the single most pure creature to exist. What had she done to earn her eternal damnation? “It can’t possibly be. You’re the sweetest little thing to grace the Earth. Tell me, how is it you ended up in Hell?”

The ease of his questions only surprised Charlie further. It was as if this was just a normal occurrence and he was asking her about her day. “I was born there.” She replied truthfully, attempting to sound natural about it.

Alastor, butcher knife still in hand, placed his free hand on her shoulder and continued, “So when you said you had to go home one day, did you mean that you were going back to Hell?”

Charlie nodded and suddenly she was drawn into his arms. “You silly, sweet girl.” Charlie felt the handle of the butcher’s knife pressing against her back, but she wasn’t worried. She trusted her Alastor, not like the cleaver would harm her anyway. She reciprocated the hug with a small smile until she realized something.

She peered up at him with a questioning look. “And what about you? How long has this been going on?”

Alastor hummed as he thought for a moment. “About seven years or so,” he said casually as if he were just speaking about the weather. It nearly unnerved Charlie that he was so casual and calm about this. Then again, she wasn’t any better with her own secret.

“So I suppose I’ll be seeing you in Hell one day.” He chuckled, pulling away slightly to look her down.

He failed to mention what exactly he did with those he slaughtered. He also failed to mention that Charlie herself would have eventually ended up as another source of food for him once he felt she outlived her entertainment.

“I’ve been here for three. Wow... I never would have suspected!” She pulled out of his embrace, not realizing that she was now covered in blood.

“Yes that is the point, darling. If everyone suspected, well I just wouldn’t be here now would I?” He laughed with a shrug. To his surprise, Charlie let out a closed-mouthed giggle. Then again she was a demon, murder must not mean much to her.

Alastor raised his eyebrows and grinned widely. “So as a demon would you approve?”

“I mean as a demon I’m supposed to. I’m supposed to “tempt” people to sin. But I also don’t necessarily like it. I... really don’t actually.” she said hesitantly as she turned her gaze to the bloodied workbench in the corner. It still held the fresh corpse of a man Charlie couldn’t recognize.

‘What was he going to do with the man? None of the bodies of his victims have ever been found... The only thing the New Orleans Slasher would leave behind were splatters of blood and bits of his victims.’

Alastor belted a hearty chuckle. “You’re not a very good demon, dear.”

“Ah yeah...” she huffed an awkward chuckle as she turned her attention back to her lover in front of her. “My dad’s reminded me of that for a while now...”

“I bet. Now as much as I’d love to continue this conversation, this isn’t the place for that my love,” he nodded to the door and shot her a reassuring grin. “Why don’t you head back in the house and once I’m done out here we can talk.”

Charlie smiled half relieved and half gratefully. She leaned up and kissed the part of his cheek that was free of blood. “Sounds good. Do you want me to make you anything?” Her demonic form dissipated with another blink of an eye, which Alastor watched with full interest before walking back to the workbench.

“Coffee would be nice sweetheart. Oh and I must apologize. It seems I’ve left a mess on you.” he gestured toward her front and Charlie immediately looked down. She jumped in surprise and then sighed.

Charlie pouted and inspected her dress. “Al, you need to be more careful! I’m really not supposed to do this but...” she paused and snapped her fingers. A rush of hellfire consumed her for a split second before revealing a spotless dress on the slasher’s cleaned lover. He was at a loss for words at the spectacle. Charlie let out a content breath and continued, “This is my favorite dress!” She turned and made it back to the threshold before turning back to Alastor, who looked dumbfounded. “Please make sure to wash up before you come back in please? Blood isn’t fun to wash up you know.”

Alastor awoke from his daze. He nearly burst out laughing, but merely chuckled at the odd request. “Yes dear.”

Once the door closed, Alastor went back to work feeling a strange sense of ease, excitement and intrigue all in one sensation. Who was once his prey and simple ingredient was now his confidant. It almost felt good keeping someone who knew of his hobby around strangely enough. Maybe it was the sudden rush of adrenaline?

Or maybe it was because he’d realized that he’d taken a demon for a lover. And while he did genuinely love Charlie in a strange way, knowing now that she was a demon only seemed to spark a new feeling of excitement that he refused to extinguish. “A demon...” he muttered as he cut away at the bone of his latest kill. “The little dear is just full of surprises.”

He made quick work of his preparations. Once he packed and stored his future meal in a natural underground freezer, he wiped off the excess blood from his person, per Charlie’s request. The underground storage was at the peak temperature to store meats now that the first snowfall coated the ground. Properly packed, the human flesh would hold up longer. He’d make a fine meal later, but first he needed to chat with his lovely demon waiting for him.

He found her in the sitting room, reading a book peacefully with a pair of steaming cups beside her. When she heard his footsteps, she looked to the door and smiled. “Your coffee’s waiting for you.”

Alastor took the cup closest to his unoccupied chair and took a sip. “Thank you darling. Now, I hope you know I have plenty of questions. And I’m sure you do too.” he walked to the sofa and set his coffee cup down on the coffee table. He pat the seat next to him, to which Charlie smiled and obliged. He took her hand in her’s and let their clasped hands rest on the cushion between them.

The little demoness turned to face him, looking like she was ready to burst. “Alastor, I actually only have one question for you.”

“Go on.” he replied calmly.

She tensed. Alastor detected this sign of distress but remained unmoved. “Did you... ever feed me human...?” Charlie asked shyly. She prayed that her thoughts were wrong. She pieced together that he probably ate his victims seeing how he put so much care into the butchering of his victims.

“Oh no dear, I would never,” he replied promptly. He felt Charlie relax as soon as he said it. She wouldn’t know how to feel if she found out that she ate human meat. She’d had so many meals at Alastor’s house that once the idea entered her mind, she feared for the worst. “Not only would it be rude to feed it to someone who would not appreciate the taste of human flesh, I am also selfish. I don’t have it often, but I’m willing to share with you if you-“

Once her question was answered satisfactorily, she cut him off. “Nope! No no no thank you!” She shook her head wildly and crossed her arms into an ‘X’. “You can have all of it.” once she finished speaking, she placed her hand back into his grasp and plopped her head onto his shoulders with a sigh.

Alastor chuckled and took another sip of coffee while it still steamed in its cup. “How generous of you, dearest. You’re a demon are you not? I’m surprised that you have an aversion for human flesh!”

“Haha... yeah... I’m just not the biggest fan...”

They spoke for a bit longer before the grandfather clock reminded the pair of the time.

“Oh! I haven’t prepared dinner yet!” Charlie cried. She let go of Alastor’s hand and stood. She made her way toward the kitchen before turning to Alastor. “What would you like for dinner? We still have venison.”

Alastor stood as well and grinned. “Allow me to assist you my love. I’m sure my talents with flesh will help you greatly.”

Charlie scoffed and nodded. “Alright come on funny guy.”

It didn’t feel right, but she was happy. Sure he committed heinous actions, and he probably intended to turn on her one day, but Alastor was still the same Alastor she knew. It was awful but she wasn’t fazed by his hobby for murder and consumption of other humans. Once she was gone, it was inevitable that he’d one day find himself in the fiery pits of Hell and reunite with her. It didn’t matter what he did at this point. As long as he stayed by her side, she’d be content.

[eulogyoftheminor]

Rusty running from his problems

The second oceans film focuses on rusty as the main protagonist. In this film he is challenged with a unique set of problems that allow him access to a new sense of self that he was ultimately trying to run towards.

We start the film with him being found out by his lover. And we see him panic with the relaizatikn that he is effectively dead to rights. Which leads to him running.

After he runs we are presented with the big problem that terry from the first film has found them all and wants his money back.

Rusty in particular when he’s contacted is going through disillusion with his chosen business away from stealing. He thought he could run away from that but he is now bored

When we get the group back to converse about the situation we see the rusty delimma even more.

Also to highlight another of rustys problems we see the group realizing rusty can lead on his own but he’s in Danny’s shadow which he is also trying to come from under

Once they are back doing what he is good at stealing and forming that plan rusty has the plan already to go overseas.

And we also have a moment where frank knows the extent of rustys plan which has more than just getting money but it has a plan to get his lost love.

In this moment we see rusty hinging the idea of getting out of the problem with owing terry and running off with his girl which feels good

When they are on the plane we see another Crux of Linus looking to rusty to help propel him further he asks for a larger role.

They land and begin to figure out their plan and it looks bleak.

Rusty then has a conversation with Danny where he opens up about wanting more to be his own person and how it seems to be at odds with right society aka his girl.

But because it’s still focused primarily on stealing he figures out a old plan his girlfriends father used which he think will he’ll get her attention as well as her the money

They go about the plan and it succeeds In getting her attention.

But we audience find out who told on them and who actually already stole the thing they were after

Because rustys girl realizes it’s him trying to get her attention she quickly arrests frank part of the crew and goes to their hide out spotting a few more.

When rustys girl goes to the hide out they have their first convo. Where she explains she has seen him tailing her and he makes his first moves to try and get her. Under estimating her because she gets his phone

Which she uses to get even more info about the gang and their plans. And she also makes it very inconvenient for the rest of the group because she is so good at being a detective.

While this is going on rusty has a moment with Linus setting up the end gag. Withholding info on why he can’t use Tess likeness to Julia Robert’s as an asset. He metaphorically runs from giving him info.

They all make it out of the country at which point Lahiri finds out they are gonna steal the egg.

After that we have another rusty Danny moment when they explain the plan to steal the egg. At the end the two break off and Danny slightly undermines rusty by micromanaging some of his duties of the plan which he bristles at.

This is a problem because although his plan of getting out of debt and getting the girl is going well his role as an individual and to be looked at in the same light as Danny is not on track

Then they find out she has his phone. And he goes to meet her. They again have the tet a tet of old lovers and again rusty tries to overtly show her he wants her again. She sticks to the investigation. Until she opens up and reveals she knew he did robbery from the beginning. He asks why she didn’t say and she asks why he didn’t talk to her and instead RUN. He says he didn’t want it to end and she Says you assumed it would.

In this moment we see plainly the core of the film. It’s in rusty running and not just seeing it through or having belief that it will work out. And that causing him to be unhappy in his life.

And to end the moment Lahiri caps it off by stating she’ll arrest the rest of his crew and him if she sees them again.

This moment impacts her though because right after she forged the document that will allow her to go after oceans crew if they try anything with the egg. A document she used before to try and catch rusty from the first Robbery mentioned in the film. But unsuccessfully which is why she must forge it because her superiors will not. (She is taking a risk)

This then leads to them attempting to get the egg and everyone getting arrested. Because Lahiri forged the documents.

It’s after these events we get the next big part of the story.

Some of the gang was not arrested and where able to make it out safe and start to devise a new plan Linus the rusty protege is one of them.

Rusty and the rest of the gang contemplate if they will be able to get it done.

Danny mentions you want her to win. Which makes perfect sense to rusty in this moment because he’s realizing he doesn’t need to run from her being such a great detective he should embrace it.

Simultaneously rusty sees from the reaction that Danny is looking at it completely differently he’s still trying to be the leader of the team and make sure it works out without seeing rusty has his own plan and is his own man.

And we see after the Julia Robert’s debacle Danny and rusty having their moment of realization that rusty is his own man.

It’s only after this moment that we see the Julia Robert’s debacle didn’t work and everyone else gets arrested rusty smirking at Linus who is peeved.

Ultimately the Linus aspect is fully realized in the third movie but it’s partially culminated in how his family is used to get everyone out of trouble.

It’s using him in that fashion that I believe shows how the group and more so Danny and rusty need Linus and he finally shows his worth.

But to finish rustys story arc

After they get out of jail we see Lahiri seemingly going to get taken to be in trouble for the forgery.

But instead the car takes her to a airport runway where rusty is.

And he has his final moment of expressing to her there is nothing more to run to. She can be who she is her true self which is what he feels like he himself found and is hoping to share with her.

And they seemingly do when rusty shows Lahiri her father who is the master thief. In this moment rusty isn’t running from himself the thief he understands who he is as a man and has found someone to share that with.

I like that this film is stylish and takes on a lot of the Characteristic of its surroundings this feels like rusty in the film very European. And I think it’s well done on its approach to people coming to terms with who they are no matter if it’s a seemingly good person or seemingly bad. I like how it shows that togetherness helps facilitate finding of ones self.

[confusedcuriousjungleambivert]

This is my contribution for the Nanbaka Secret Santa Event of this year! My giftee was @darkthiefofamestris and I hope you will like it at least! You can also read it under the cut. Enjoy :D

A pill for the heart

Nico wasn’t a big fan of waking up. When he was younger he didn’t have a roof over his head and sometimes found himself wishing to not wake up. Then he ended up in the medical reform school, where his trypanophobia implemented its roots. He couldn’t have a good night’s rest, having nightmares about the horrifying needles and medications he had to endure only to escape few days before it came. But even then it wasn’t good, going back to being a child on the streets.

But then he met (or, better said, re-met) with three other boys his age that made his days happier. And together the four of them ended in Nanba Prison, becoming cellmates. Slowly and surely, they became like family to him. And one of them became even his lover.

Even if his blanket was puffier and warmer, his mangas and animes came more frequently than before and his medicaments became strictly oral, accompanied with his favorites flavours, waking up didn’t become a treasured moment in his day.

But because of Uno it did.

Their beds were always right next to each other, even before they became an official couple, but only recently did they start to only share one, cuddling under the same blanket in a mess of limbs and long hair. Sometimes Uno left his hair unbraided for the night and Nico really enjoyed having it around him, with a sweet scent of coconut shampoo embracing him (sometimes it got in his mouth and it wasn’t that funny anymore, especially when it got tangled in his uniform’s zipper, but it was comfortable nonetheless).

It was all worth it, though. Now he got to wake up in a sweet embrace and look sleepily at the one boy he felt closer than with anyone else he had ever met. Sure, it still felt weird to have someone’s hot breathe into your face or that close to it, but in Nico’s sleepy state it didn’t matter that much. He usually woke up for a few minutes during the night, not used yet to long periods of rest, found himself looking up at his boyfriend and fell asleep back with a small smile on his lips, safe and happy.

Yamamoto coming in their cell in waking everyone up, though, made it all harder to like waking up. Nico hated exercising, especially so early in the morning.

“Good morning, my friends! It is time for our morning workout, hahaha!”

Every prisoner groaned, despising that time of the day. They were still teenagers, after all, if they could they would have slept all morning. Nico especially, nuzzling back in Uno’s chest, trying to hide under the cover.

No luck, though, as Yamamoto grabbed him by the collar and held him up like he weight nothing.

“Come on, inmate 25! Some exercise would do you good, you are young at heart and your body has to be prepared for the responsibilities of adulthood!”

“Wah, Yamamoto, I don’t wanna, it’s way too early in the morning! Why do you take me up and not Jyugo-kun, we are the same age and he’s weaker than me!”

“Number 25, stop whining!” a familiar voice came from down the hall, followed by the heavy steps of Hajime. “Yamamoto, put number 25 down. He’s going to come and take his medicine first. Now come.”

“Yay, Hajime saved me!” Nico jumped out of Yamamoto’s grip with a new found force and energy, fueled up by his happiness.

“Awe, that’s not fair, why does Nico get to always play the medicine card?” Rock complained loudly, being shaken by a laughing Yamamoto.

“Because we all know what happens when he doesn’t get his medicine.” A shiver run through Nico’s inmates spines at the same time and Hajime frowned, everyone recalling the limited memories they had with that side of Nico. They hoped they would never see it again.

“Nico, bring me something sweet back from the doctor, okay?” Uno screamed after his boyfriend, dragged by Yamamoto before he even had the time to braid his long hair.

“Okay!” Nico waved at the pile of boys dragged by a normal Yamamoto, skipping along  in the other direction with a pacing Hajime. “Which medicine is today, Hajime-chan?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is it for my low sugar level?”

“I don’t know.”

“My short term memory loss?”

“I don’t know.”

“My blood cells problem?”

“I don’t know.”

“Oh, do you think they discovered something new?” Nico gasped, momentarily stopping in his tracks, little stars sparkling in his eye. “What if they discovered something out of this world in my DNA, like in that new manga I started reading?” he gasped again. “This means I will have to burden the big responsibility of saving the planet from a great force they have never anticipated! Wait, but does this mean that I will have to train myself? Ugh, I hate training myself, especially with Yamamoto, he has no limits! But also, I heard that in the new volume the protagonist’s love interest will be kidnapped and used as bait to lure him out.” His arms franatically fly around, planting his feet in front of the guard to stop him. “Hajime-chan, what if someone kidnaps Uno?! I am still weak, I haven’t trained yet!”

“That would be impossible, no one escaped Nanba Prison before.” He moved the inmate around with ease, making sure he wouldn’t try anything out of his normal behavior.

“Ah, that’s right, only Jyugo is still playing around. Oh, then if he can escape Nanba will he become some sort of celebrity? Will tv people come here and take interviews? I always wondered how it is like to be famous. Have you ever appeared on TV, Hajime-chan? Though I guess your brother is more the type to do that, he is very cute and would make a wonderful TV host.”

“Inmate, stop talking about my brother. We have arrived.”

“Huh? Where were we going again?”

“To get your medicine. You obviously need your memory ones.”

Nico giggled at Hajime’s unintentional joke. He had to admit, he was always looking forward to his medication time because everything tasted so good and he felt better after he took his pills. He could take one of his pills and then eat a strawberry from the cake Rock gave him to try while escaping prison and he couldn’t tell the difference when it came to taste.

He was always wondering what flavor he would get that day, maybe lemon or something more salty, like caramel, or maybe even tiramisu. He was once afraid he would get obsessed by the pills unhealthily, but the doctor knew how to make each one feel like enough for his tummy.

In the infirmary, the doctor greeted by announcing that today he had to take a new special treatment made especially for his heart. Nico was a little puzzled, he couldn’t remember what heart problems he had, but then again he couldn’t count on two hands half his affections. Nonetheless, he took it and left out an ecstatic noise at the cherry flavor. The doctor run some more tests and then let him go.

On the way back, Nico skipped happily, ranting about everything and anything that crossed his mind. From his favourite flavours to the next coming anime he wished to watch immediately.

And then he felt like his left foot hit something and he hit the ground, face first.

“Inmate, watch your steps! You almost squashed Kuu under you?”

“Kuu?” Nico asked, confused. “Hajime, I can’t see no Kuu.”

There was an indignant ‘meow’ and a little stab of claws on his leg, but Nico still couldn’t see anything. He shrieked and jumped on Hajime out of fear.

“Hajime, I think Kuu is dead and his ghost is hunting the jail!”

“What are you babbling about, idiot? Kuu was just here and left because you tripped over him.” Hajime was silent for a few seconds, inspecting the way Nico was looking around frantically. “Please tell me you are not having any side from the treatment.”

Nico gasped in shock. “It could be! But I was never blind before! Or… partially blind? I can see you and the walls and I could still see everything at the infirmary when we left.”

“That damn doctor, didn’t he say anything about side effects?”

“Not in a while.”

Hajime sighed and took the inmate off of him. They walked back to Nico’s cell, everything going normal so far since the incident with Kuu. Hajime really hoped it would be the only surprise of the day.

“Inmate, we have arrived.”

Nico stared at a wall, his eyes empty of any emotion. He stared for a good few seconds more and then turned to the guard. “Hajime, this is a wall.”

Hajime face palmed, feeling a terrible ache in his stomach.

“Hey, Nico, that’s not nice, man.”

Nico looked around. He was sure the sound came from straight ahead, but he could only see a the wall.

“Yeah, is that a way to talk to your boyfriend? At least say that my muscles are hard like a wall, damn it!”

“Uno, you barely have muscles.”

“Look who’s talking, mister I-Can-Only-Escape-From-Jail!”

“Where is everyone?! I can’t see anyone!”

“They are right in front of you inmate, try to walk forward and you will get into the cell.”

Nico tried Hajime’s advice and made a few steps. It looked like he did nothing, to him the wall was at the exact same distance as before. He turned his head at Hajime, who made a hand gesture to press him on. Nico tried again. The same result. “What the-“ he thought to himself. He tried taking more determined steps. Nothing. And then he started running. It felt like was running on the same patch of earth and not at the same time. The wall even started to get more far away. He tried running faster, but he was already becoming tired.

“Nico, are you okay?” asked Jyugo’s voice.

“Yeah, you look a little sick.” Added Rock from somewhere, somehow feeling like from everywhere.

“What happened?” asked Uno.

“I dunno!” shouted Nico in desperation. “I just went and took my heart medicine and now I can’t see some stuff!” His breathing became sharp, sweat forming on his forehead. Maybe he shouldn’t have skipped working out with Yamamoto. “Ah, I shouldn’t have taken the pill!”

“What pill?”

Nico opened his eyes and jolted up, trying to catch his eratic breathing. Looking around, he was in his cell, early in the morning, with all his sleepy cellmates looking at him worried.

“Nico, did you take some weird experimental thing again?” Uno asked, a little angry. “I swear to God, I will go to that doctor and give him a piece of-“

“It’s okay, I just had a weird dream.” Nico laughed a little, calm now. “Maybe I shouldn’t have eaten so many trusted cherries before sleep.”

“Weird you should say that,” started Jyugo.

“Yeah, Hajime came by some minutes ago and left us this package for you from the doctor, saying he and his wife went on a little vacation.” Rock opened the little zip bag slowly. “He said they are for some heart things and they smell so sickly of cherries.”

“No!” Nico jumped up from his bed and started running around, as away from that bag as possible. “I am NOT taking them!”

“Nico, don’t!” the trio looked all suddenly scared, remembering what will happen if Nico doesn’t take his medication. “Nico, you know you have to take them!” said Uno, running after him with Jyugo and Rock. “Please, for me?”

“No, keep those away from me!”

Just a normal morning at Nanba prison.