#perp fic writing

[perpetualexistence]

Coils and Toils

Alenoah Week Day 3: Role Swap / TDWT Ending Rewrite

I decided to use woah-i-am-here's roleswap Alenoah for my funky little AU for today. The personalities are based mostly on their AU, and most of Alejandro's backstory is as well. Noah's I took more creative liberties with. It was a bit hard to translate that one over with this being a naga AU.

Because this is me, I couldn't help but make this a tiny bit dark at the end. So I'm just going to put a content warning for murder here to be safe.

Alejandro and Noah are fine! ...Someone else, not so much.

Alejandro is forced to go on his family's annual hunting trip. It's a week-long 'bonding' activity. He really doesn't care for it. He knows it's just an excuse for his parents to brag about traveling the world and conquering nature. José always turns it into this big competition that no one asked for, gets their parents praise, and rubs it into Alejandro's face. It's predictable, it's annoying, and it's bound to drive Alejandro up a wall.

The instant they split up, Alejandro focuses on putting as much distance between himself and the rest of his family. He's not going to hunt a damn thing. He'l just have 'bad luck'. It's an excuse he's used before, but it's not like they can truly make him do anything. He turns off his walkie talkie, the only thing that works in these godforsaken woods, because otherwise he'll have to hear his brother incessantly praising himself for each kill he bags. He has a bag of supplies, GPS included, and a gun. He'll be fine.

As he walks through the woods, he starts to notice strange markings on the ground. He'd mistake them for signs of animals having passed by. Except this looks wider than something like a bear having pushed through some brush. He climbs up a tree to get a better vantage point. From here, he can notice that it looks more like something large was dragged through the woods. The concerning part is it was dragged continuously. As if whatever was doing the dragging was having no issue in doing so. Despite the thing being as wide as train tracks.

That's when he heard the rustling. He couldn't tell where it was coming from, but it was getting louder.

Climbing down would attract too much attention. He could only cling against the tree as tightly as he could, and hope whatever it was didn't look up.

"Oh. You're new." said the voice that came from his right.

He dared to turn his head. He met the gaze of two slitted pupils.

Alejandro was over 12 meters off the ground and he was directly meeting the gaze of another.

He looked down to see the torso of the giant he was now looking at connected not to legs, but to a snake's tail.

He's grateful his instinct was to cling tighter to the tree, and not to loosen his grip.

After Alejandro successfully doesn't faint, the two get into proper greetings. Noah's incredibly polite, and is clearly doing everything in his power to make himself come off as careful about the height difference as possible. He's controlled in every action he takes.

...Too controlled for someone currently claiming that he's lived by himself in the woods his entire life. If he had, then he probably wouldn't know to control his volume or have anything resembling manners.

Alejandro calls him out on this, which shocks Noah for a bit. Not only that Alejandro found him out, but also that he'd have the courage despite Noah's size advantage. Alejandro realizes he might have screwed up hard, except Noah laughs and lets some of his mask slip.

He tells something closer to the truth this time. He's from the fae realm, and got cursed to look like this. He's trapped in these woods, serving as its guardian. Meaning he does need to know why Alejandro's trespassing.

Now it's Alejandro's turn to start lying his ass off. He knows about the fae thanks to reading, but he has no idea how much is true and how much isn't. He doesn't know what answer is acceptable, what answer will get him killed, and he doesn't know if Noah can read people.

He admits to being on a hunting trip, but he hadn't killed anything yet as his priority was finding somewhere to make camp. He didn't know he was trespassing, and wants to ask proper permission to stay in the woods for a week. He says nothing about the rest of his family because he knows that they've certainly killed animals by now.

Noah chooses to believe him. And because Alejandro did ask nicely (though with a bit of sarcasm since he couldn't help himself), Noah will let him stay. But he's only allowed to hunt what he needs to in order to survive. In return, Noah will promise not to hurt him. He'll even make a fae bargain, so both are bound to keep to their deal.

Alejandro doesn't really have much choice but to accept. Not that he planned to do any hunting anyways, but he has to go with this now or risk Noah catching wise. Noah lets him know that if Alejandro needs anything, Noah'll stay around here to make himself easier to find.

So Alejandro is allowed to leave to 'go find a place to make camp'. Which means returning to his family's camp and checking that Noah isn't following him. At least he's too loud to get away with sneaking up on the human.

Still, now Alejandro is going to have to convince his family not to go near the area Noah is in. He can't tell them Noah exists. They'll think he's finally lost it. Instead, he settles for committing to heading in that direction when his family splits apart to hunt each morning.

He doesn't have to actually go anywhere near Noah's slithering grounds. He just needs everyone else to think he's going there.

...Yet, Noah has been the most interesting thing that's happened to him in quite a while. The only other person who has proven to be an intellectual match to Alejandro is Jose. And he's insufferable. Noah is dangerous, certainly, but he isn't hard to be around. So long as Alejandro is careful about what he says. Besides, if he can keep Noah occupied, then he'll know that the rest of his family is safe.

This has absolutely nothing to do with how attractive Noah is or how his laugh made Alejandro melt like butter.

So he goes back to Noah the next day and says he wants to know more about Noah.

"Sure, I'm an open book." Noah replied. "You're as open as a mouse trap." Alejandro retorted.

This gets another laugh out of Noah, and the two begin to bond.

Over time Noah reveals that he hates the outdoors. He misses being small enough to read in peace. Not that he even has any reading material on him. But Alejandro does since his original plan had been to find a spot in the forest to read the entire time. So he pulls out one of his books and offers to read it aloud to Noah.

"Is that the only one you have?"

"I thought you were desperate enough to read anything."

"I just want to know what my options are. I don't want to read anything trashy if you're holding out on me."

This would be enough to make Alejandro snicker at how spoiled Noah was acting. He might have been imagining things, but he swore he saw the tip of Noah's tail flicker in delight at the sound.

Alejandro found himself going from keeping a respectable distance from Noah to leaning against the naga's coils.

Alejandro would begin to open up about his family. How he tires of playing second fiddle to Jose, and how his parents do everything in their power to encourage him. They put on a show for the world to see that Alejandro is 'lucky' enough to be a part of. He tried to show Jose up, once upon a time. But loss after loss whittled away at him. Until there was nothing left but a bitter, snarky teenager who would rather stay in his room than deal with anybody. Still with the knowledge of how to charm and fight, but none of the motivation.

It would lead to Noah opening up about his own family. He came from a line of powerful fae. Having eight siblings in the fae realm meant they were constantly fighting for everything. He was last in line to inherit anything by birthright. If he wanted anything, he'd have to fight for it. As the youngest, Noah could never hope to win in a battle of strength. He adapted to winning battles of wit instead.

He didn't care that he had to fight dirty. He never got a fair chance in a fight with his siblings. Why should he return the favor? The only way he'd beat his siblings is if he performed just a minor coup, so he did. Or well, he tried. He underestimated his parents' ability to catch on to his tricks.

So they cursed him. "You'll live as you truly are in the wild until you learn the sanctity of a life." Rather shitty of them to exile their own child instead of acknowledging the environment they created in the first place. But, oh well. Noah's here now. ...and it feels surprisingly refreshing to let his guard down and tell someone else this.

Alejandro is reminded that he should in no way shape or form trust someone who tried 'a minor coup' on his own parents. ...But it is nice to have Noah agree that Alejandro's parents and brother are in fact terrible. He'd been around so many sycophants to the Burromuerto name, he thought he must be the mad one for thinking ill of them.

Sadly though, the week is up before they know it. Alejandro is going to have to go back home, and miss his new boyfriend. Alejandro finishes reading the last book he brought over so Noah can have a proper ending. At this point, he's grown so comfortable with Noah that he's nestled in between Noah's loose coils. Noah could kill him easily anyways, so why deny himself something so warm and cozy?

By the end, Noah gifts him the largest moose he can find. It'll be rations for the road, plus the antlers will make for a good hunting trophy. He knows it's gauche but his options for giving gifts as a giant snake thing are limited.

Alejandro suspects something's up by the look in Noah's eyes, but doesn't say anything. Rejecting Noah's gift would be a terrible idea if fae work how he thinks they work. He could just bury the gift when he's far enough away from Noah. He can't imagine anything good would come from bringing this to his family.

...Yet he's so tired of them. He feels more comfortable with a stranger he's only known for a week than with his own family sitting down for dinner. That stranger could squeeze him to death without a second thought and he'd still trust Noah more than he would trust Jose not to find an excuse to shoot him in the head when he's in a mood. So you know what? Whatever happens to his family will just have to happen to them.

He takes the gift back to his family so he can actually win at something for once. Jose tries to play it off, but it is the biggest thing hunted, so that's what the Burromuertos decide to eat as their final meal here before heading out.

Alejandro, not trusting Noah, wisely waits for everyone else to eat the food first. He gets away with it because the second they take a bite, they're hooked. They're scarfing the food down like animals. He pushes his portion into the fireplace. He's grateful he did when his mother starts coughing, then gasping, then choking for air and foaming at the mouth. Soon followed by his brother, then his father.

Noah said his new body reflected his true self. Alejandro isn't surprised that means he's a venomous snake.

Noah slithers quietly behind him. He's genuinely happy that Alejandro did survive this. Because if he didn't, Alejandro wasn't the type of person Noah thought he was.

"If you hadn't found a way around it, then you weren't worth all the time and effort I put into you. And that would have been such a pity, truly."

Noah knew Alejandro was lying about being by himself the whole time, and that it was probably because his family had been hunting without his permission. Fae rules said he had to do something about it, and from how Alejandro described them, there was absolutely no reason to let them live. Alejandro getting caught in the crossfire was a calculated risk. 'Noah' couldn't harm Alejandro, but that isn't to say one of his gifts couldn't.

However, he genuinely thought he had done a great job of gaining Alejandro's trust. He believed Alejandro had no idea the gift was a trap, or at least didn't realize it until later. To find that Alejandro actually did know that the gift was tainted from the beginning, and that he still chose to give it to his family? He's delighted. Especially when Alejandro admits he's not that worked up about their deaths as he feels he should be. And when Alejandro pulls one last contigency:

Noah never gave an end condition to when he could harm Alejandro. So as long as Alejandro only hunts for food and not for sport, Noah can't cause any direct harm to him, ever.

Noah could of course try to find another work around to get rid of a final loose end. But he's much happier to offer him a place in the woods for as long as Alejandro wants. And he wants to start dating Alejandro properly. Alejandro has nowhere else to go, and he's much happier here than he's ever been. So he agrees to the home, and to being Noah's boyfriend.

Noah takes care of Alejandro, and Alejandro works on a way to break Noah free from his curse. 'A life' could just mean one person specifically after all. So if Alejandro just makes sure that person is him, he'd be set for life.

Everyone else?

Not their problem.

[total-drama-brainrot]

This Alenoaheather AU is bringing me an unholy amount of serotonin and I love it- I’m still just now discovering it and I wish I knew about it sooner😭😭 But question if I may!

So, by the time Noah gets eliminated, where would you say his relationship lies with Alejandro and Heather? Like, does he leave the competition like, “You both tried to play each other, but I ended up playing the both of you, L” Like does he just think that Alejandro and Heather only romantically like each other, and he was just their attempt at emotionally manipulating one another, or does he at least have an idea that they potentially may feel romantically towards him? Honestly I’m just curious about how his elimination would play out between the three of them-

I'm glad other people are enjoying this AU as much as I am. Me and Perp are slowly spreading our Alenoaheather propaganda and it's working.

It's been established that Noah's elimination in this AU will take place at some point in the early post-merge game, probably either China or the Serengeti (though Niagara Falls might work too. We haven't exactly touched on how each challenge can/will play out since this whole concept has been put on the backburner), which gives his dynamic with Heather and Alejandro time to blossom from the initial double fake dating ploy into something more genuine.

Well before his elimination, Noah's been caught in his double-crossing ways; or to be more accurate triple-crossing, since Noah initially decided to play along with both Heather and Alejandro's schemes with the intention of throwing them both under the bus (or at least reaping all of the benefits for himself). But, by the time his ploy is figured out, the three of them have developed genuine feelings for each other.

As such, Heather and Alejandro are hesitant to have him eliminated; sure Noah somehow managing to pull the wool over their eyes for as long as he did was infuriating, but it was also impressive. Like recognises like, and the two biggest schemers in the game can appreciate when they've been outplayed, aggravating as it is, especially when the person who bested them essentially used their own trickery against them. Also, though the two of them would never admit it, both Heather and Alejandro know that they'd honestly miss Noah's caustic company.

Of course, at this point in the competition Heather and Alejandro are still deep in their "rivalry" phase, so it takes the two of them a very convoluted and overcomplicated conversation to figure out that they both share the same sentiment concerning a certain cynic- since every encounter they have with each other is practically a game of backhanded compliments and dancing around the true meaning of their words. It takes even longer for them to come to an agreement, given how stubborn the both of them can be, but eventually they manage to co-operate.

Which is what leads to The Confrontation, the point in the story where the two fake dating plots merge into Heather and Alejandro putting aside their differences to rule the game together, utilizing Noah as their shared right hand man since he's shown a knack for strategy and subterfuge. After all, why would they want to get rid of the one person on the jet who's able to go toe-to-toe with them in terms of scheming, when they can instead keep him around as an accomplice?

At least, that's the excuse they both use. But the two of them internally can't deny that, even if it was all pretend, Noah wasn't a bad "boyfriend" by any means, and they genuinely enjoy his company. In turn, Noah's accepted that neither Heather nor Alejandro are as insufferable as he initially assumed, and that playing along with their grand plots is actually really fun. (And maybe he also likes the two of them, but Noah would never admit that.)

But there's a a whole cast's worth of people on the jet who the trio also have to consider in their plans; it would be super suspicious of all three of them if the flirting and Aleheather's animosity suddenly ceased. No matter how oblivious the rest of the competitors are, a sudden public change in their dynamic would be the equivalent of waving a huge red flag and screaming "hey, we're in an alliance, vote us out!" Very counterintuitive to their goal of winning the competition.

So the three of them resolve to act as they have been during challenges, and sneak off to the confessional when it's most convenient/feasible to do so, where they can plot and scheme away from the rest of the cast.

This means that, at least to everyone else in the game, Noah's still in this weird grey area where he's actively flirting with both Heather and Alejandro. Or, well, "flirting", since I imagine most of the advances would be initiated by the other party and Noah would play the part of the blushing damsel- or more accurately the begrudging but highly amused recipient, since I just can't conceptualise snarky, stoic Noah being the type to get flustered easily.

I imagine The Confrontation would happen somewhere around London timeline wise (it just feels like the most appropriate place to have a major shift in the plot happen, for obvious reasons), which would give the initial fake dating aspect of the AU time to run it's course without getting stale, and allow the three of them to establish their dynamic as a trio before the merge hits. It'd give Alenoaheather around five or six episodes worth of time to grow closer as a trio (from Greece's Pieces to Niagara Brawls, at least) and have their feelings grow and develop at a natural pace, to the point where they acknowledge that, perhaps, not all of the romantic tension between them is fake.

And then, of course, the Fake Cheating Arc happens. Noah's elimination is the catalyst for this section of the plot, which Perp and myself touched on pretty heavily in one of our reblog chains, and at this point in the story Alenoaheather are in a sort of vague kind-of-dating situation; the three of them know there's feelings there, but they're all more invested in the competition (and their manipulation of such) than trying to figure out what exactly is going on between them. Plus, World Tour takes place in 2010- concepts like polyamory weren't exactly common knowledge back then, so the three of them wouldn't have any basis of comparison for what their dynamic is/would be.

That, and the three of them are all fairly emotionally closed off, so getting them to admit genuine feelings for each other and show vulnerableness to anyone would be like pulling teeth. As it stands, they're fairly content to continue acting as a Trickster Trio, contented to leave whatever's going on between them unlabelled for the time being in favour of focusing their time and energy on winning the million. There's an unspoken understanding between the three of them; what they have is special, inconceptual and indescribable by mere words... which is mostly just an excuse for the three of them not to breach the subject, since they have the collective emotional intelligence of a spork.

That doesn't mean they don't love each other. Because they do, even if some of them (Heather and Alejandro) aren't exactly familiar with concepts like "unconditional love" and "loyalty/compassion for someone besides yourself" and "lowering your emotional walls and being the most genuine version of yourself in front of the people who care about you". It's a steep learning curve, but they're doing their best.

But that's besides the point; at this point in the plot, the trio are essentially a throuple in all but name at the point of Noah's elimination.

That's why his suggestion of playing off of his "cheating" is initially met with hesitance on Aleheather's part- they don't want the one person on the jet (besides each other) they actually care about to risk his reputation, but they also know that it's a strategically sound idea. There's a conflict of interest between their desire to win the competition by any means necessary, and the budding sense of empathy they've both began to develop as a result of their situationship.

Of course, they eventually agree to his plan, and then the whole Cheating Arc plays out as it's been explored previously.

Which means Noah's actual elimination ceremony is a very tense affair.

He's intentionally playing himself up as kind of a scumbag during it, since he wants both Heather and Alejandro to appear as sympathetic as possible to the remaining competitors, so the three of them stage an altercation during that day's challenge where Noah's caught out in his "cheating", and consequently "admits" that he's been playing the two of them and it's all ingenuine on his part, to direct the majority vote against him. It'd kill two birds with one stone that way; Noah gets himself eliminated without having to do much out of the ordinary, since he's already kind of an asshole so all he really has to do is play up that aspect of himself a little and lie about manipulating his partners, meanwhile Heather and Alejandro can reap the benefits of whatever brownie points they gain from being his "victims" by using their own manipulative prowess to adopt the role of the ex-villains, redeemed by their shared heartbreak. Or something equally melodramatic.

Noah doesn't really care about the specifics of it, he'll be long gone before his partners can start playing up their "betrayal and heartbreak", and then soon enough one of them will win the competition. And spoil him rotten with their money.

So, during the actual ceremony, Noah becomes persona non grata. No one wants to sit anywhere near him on the benches, and the remaining cast members form a protective wall between him and a distraught Heather, who sniffles back quiet tears every time her eyes wander too close to the cynic's slouching, impassive frame, and Alejandro who's sat eerily still and taut with disgraced fury, who's fiery green eyes haven't strayed from the burning glare he's shooting towards the bookworm.

Not that Noah's a stranger to receiving glares; the rest of the cast are also shooting him some downright murderous looks. Though he is impressed by his partners' acting abilities. He's also physically biting back pearls of laughter- the gritting of his teeth only serves to make him look unapologetically indignant, and thus more irredeemable in the eyes of their company- because every time Alejandro knows that no one's focus is on him, he sends his cerebral partner a cheeky wink and a smirk. The smug bastard.

Unsurprisingly, the vote is fairly unanimous. Chris doesn't even bother trying to raise suspense or tension by counting the votes, since the result is inevitable. That, and the atmosphere is already so tense and dramatic, the host is revelling in it. Chris even goes so far as complimenting Noah for outshining Duncan's cheating fiasco, showing the audience "what real relationship drama looks like", and maybe even congratulating Noah on almost being as heartless as he is.

He's escorted to the Drop of Shame, parachute backpack in tow, but before he can take the plunge he glances back at his audience. A raging sea of hostility greets him, but within the depths of animosity two shining beacons of light greet him. Alejandro and Heather shoot him a fleeting wave, the ghosts of smiles flickering across their features before they continue their flawless acts, but it's enough to reassure Noah that everything will be fine.

(Spoiler alert, things don't end up being fine for Noah.)

Of course this is all just an idea I'm spewing out. Nothing in this AU is set in concrete and it's always open to peer review or change. That's the beauty of public AUs; you can do whatever you want with them!

[miicapitann]

Yuri Briar x Seme Male Reader

It's impossible to find any male reader fics about Yuri Briar from Spy x family, and I've had some ideas. I figured I may as well write them down, whether they end up being for myself or if others end up enjoying them.. I would like to continue this one, at least.

↜(つ▀¯▀ )つ︻デ┳═ー.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

Summary: Yuri Briar finds himself with a new coworker, a mercenary by the codename Snake Eyes. After working with the man once, he finds him to be a few things: incredibly unaware, incredibly efficient, incredibly strong, and kind of hot?? Not that he can see the mercenary's face.. Tall, fully armed, and respecting his sister, whom he hasn't even met? Just Yuri's type!

Walking into his superior's office, Yuri removed his hat with his left hand, held it over his chest, and used his right hand to salute his boss.

"SIR!! How can I help you!" He shouted out, with what his boss interpreted as the enthusiasm of a puppy.

"A man who's been murdering civilians was brought in today; I'm assigning you to interrogate him with the 'officer' who caught him in the room." He paused, his more serious demeanor dropping as he looked up at Yuri, smiling. "You haven't worked with Snake Eyes yet, have you? He's a highly skilled mercenary who we've managed to secure under our belt; you two would get along." His smile changed from a grin as he tapped his cigar into the ashtray on his desk. Sometimes, his demeanor almost seemed like a schoolgirl's..

Yuri was mildly confused. He had never even heard of a mercenary working with the State Security Service, something he questioned his boss about. He was only told that this Snake Eyes fellow handled their most dangerous cases.

"Here's the file on the suspect. You're in charge of the interrogation; Snake Eyes is only there for intimidation tactics and keeping the perp in line. There's a list of what we need to know in the envelope. Do your best, Second-Lieutenant Briar!!" His boss beams at the end, shooing Yuri out to complete the interrogation.

As he walked from his superior's office to the interrogation room, he looked over the file quickly but thoroughly. Usually, he had much more time to brief himself on the situation and the suspect and even gather his own evidence. On this occasion, Yuri hadn't even been aware of a murderer being afoot, though he figured it may have been due to the fact that a case like this was certainly something that the Lieutenant would handle. Or perhaps it was how overworked and exhausted he was that something like this never reached him. Yuri neared the room that the 'scum of the earth murderer' was held in, having read his name to be Halbert Johnson.

'What a terrible name... I can't believe garbage like this walks the same earth as my dear Yor..' He thought to himself; his enraged feelings could be seen clearly on his face. And expression that was clearly seen by the Lieutenant, who walked toward him from in front of the interrogation room.

"Second-Lieutenant Briar." He started. Speaking calmly and controlled. Stiffening, Yuri saluted.

"Lieutenant Sir!" he said, with that puppy-like attitude that his boss had noticed.

The lieutenant had decided that if the interrogation with Halbert went well, not only would Yuri be trusted with more important tasks, but he may be paired with Snake Eyes more if they seemed to work well together. The second 'privilege' being a request of the big man in charge. He walked Yuri back toward the direction that he had come from, toward where the Second-Lieutenant was originally headed, the interrogation room.

"I'm sure you were informed that you would be working with Snake Eyes." He asked. A rhetorical question. "He's the guy in the combat gear. Introduce yourself and begin when you're ready." He finished, walking away right after.

Yuri turned his attention to the man 'in the combat gear' with whom he would be working. His gaze started at the other man's feet, dragging upwards, a climb that seemed to go on forever.

'This guy is gigantic!!' Yuri thought to himself, his emotions, this time shock, evident on his face. This was Snake Eyes.

Snake Eyes was incredibly tall; the top of Yuri's head barely reached the guy's collarbones. He was dressed in combat boots with a visible steel toe, black cargo pants cinched in around his thighs with straps that held heavy-duty weaponry, ranging from combat knives to guns and-

'IS THAT A FUCKING GRENADE??' Yuri wasn't really sure if the other man was allowed to have that, but given the fact that he also wasn't really sure what the station of the other man was other than mercenary, he decided not to question it. He was in the headquarters of the SSS. If he wasn't authorized to have it, he wouldn't.

The straps on the mercenary's thighs connected to a belt that sat around his hips, weaving through the loops on his pants. This belt held more gear, one of which was clearly a pistol. He wore a form-fitting dark green T-shirt, matching the green color of the SSS uniform, underneath a bulletproof vest. His arms were concealed with a long-sleeved black compression shirt that he wore under the T-shirt, and his hands were adorned with black and green gloves with small orange details that seemed to have armored knuckles. Strapped to his back was a submachine gun.

Yuri wasn't sure if he should be more afraid of the submachine gun, the grenades, or perhaps the man himself. But as he looked toward the other's face, finally ready to introduce himself, he noticed that Snake Eyes wore a black balaclava helmet and reflective goggles, his identity completely concealed aside from his eye-catching tall stature. He looked like he could stop a truck bare-handed, or at least, that was what was on Yuri's mind as he stuck his hand out to greet his new coworker or whatever he was.

"Hello, I'm Second-Lieutenant Yuri Briar. It's nice to meet you. I was told we are working together today," he said. his tone was formal, yet the slight confusion and nervousness were pretty evident on his face.

"𝚂𝚗𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝙴𝚢𝚎𝚜," the other man introduced himself, grabbing Yuri's outstretched hand and giving it an incredibly firm shake but not strong enough to hurt Yuri. "𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞."

The gear he was wearing muffled his voice, enough that Yuri couldn't match the voice if he heard it elsewhere, but not enough to make him unable to hear the other man clearly, and certainly not enough to make him unable to tell how incredibly deep the man's voice was either. What Yuri couldn't make out was any sort of tone in the tall man's speech nor the smile directed at him as they shook hands.

The two of them chatted for a moment, discussing the circumstance and who they were interrogating. This led Yuri to discover that while Snake Eyes was the one who brought Halbert in, he hadn't known the man's name prior to Yuri debriefing him. While he was confused and almost put off by the lack of information that the mercenary had, he sort of admired the fact that he was so committed to protecting the country that he focused on apprehending villains dutifully without worrying about the details, trusting his superiors fully. This was not at all why the other man was so ill-informed. He just didn't care; he was shown a face and given a location, and the rest was history, though it went over much more peacefully than he was used to.

Yuri stepped into the interrogation room first, slipping on his black leather gloves as Snake Eyes followed behind him, ducking through the doorway.

"Mr. Halbert Johnson, a murderer. I'm appalled a disgusting wretch like you was in the same city as my lovely sister." Yuri began.

His love for his sister and his dedication to protecting her showed immediately. Halbert did not respond, being aware that what you don't say cannot be used against you. Yuri settled at the seat across the table from Halbert, though opting to stand, leaning his weight on the table with his arms as he tilted forward toward the suspect, while Snake Eyes stood to Yuri's left, at the end of the table, facing the two of them with his back against the wall and his arms crossed, he said nothing. The other SSS officer in the room was unnamed to the mercenary, but he sat at a separate table directly across from him and faced Snake Eyes, writing down everything that had happened. Yuri continued to intimidate the murder suspect in front of him, making sure he knew that lying and withholding information was not to be tolerated while also very frequently mentioning and praising his beloved sister.

"The body of Patricia Phillips was found at the job site of a construction company that you work for. Significant evidence points in your direction; admit to your crimes." Yuri glared at the angry man in front of him. Seemingly having enough of Yuri's chatter, Halbert stood quickly, raising a fist to punch the Second-Lieutenant and shouting at him.

"FUCK YOU AND YOUR DUMBASS SISTER, I DIDN'T DO SHIT!!" He spat, figuratively and literally, as he put his full force into his fist.

Stepping in quickly, Snake Eyes lifted his arm, gripping Halbert by the face and slamming him down onto the floor where he lay on his back, the mercenary's hand still holding the sides of Halbert's head tightly and forcing him downward, the killer's legs squirming as his hands gripped at the much stronger man's arm desperately. Yuri stood up away from the table, shocked and in a cold sweat from almost being punched.

"𝙸 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚂𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚍-𝙻𝚒𝚎𝚞𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝙱𝚛𝚒𝚊𝚛," Snake Eyes spoke up, his hand squeezing tighter for a moment. "𝙰𝚙𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚒𝚣𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚒𝚖, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚙𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚒𝚣𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚞𝚕𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛.." He finished, gripping Halbert from the collar of his shirt, lifting him off of his feet, and tossing him back into his chair. Halbert froze but was forced to speak when a kick hit the leg of the chair he sat in just as the man in combat gear settled back into his position at the end of the table.

"I.." Halbert choked on his words, fear evident on his face. "I'M SORRY!! I'M SURE YOUR SISTER IS LOVELY.. AND INTELLIGENT!! I'LL TELL YOU ANYTHING!" He shook.

Yuri was shocked by the entire situation, and the initial act of violence made by Halbert scared him. He could not have reacted fast enough to block it himself, though it would not have injured him too badly. However, he was most baffled by Snake Eyes' actions, not only because he stepped in to protect Yuri but also because he made Halbert apologize for trying to hit him and for insulting his sister. He flushed a bit at that, feeling admiration toward the tall man and secretly loving the fact that he protected him. Yuri cleared his throat, shooing the redness on his cheeks away as much as he could.

"Did you kill Patricia Phi-" He was cut off.

"Yes!" Halbert admitted.

"𝚍𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚞𝚙𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚖." Snake Eyes said as he checked the number of bullets in his pistol, effectively giving the criminal a new fear. That fear was him, of course.

"sorry.." Halbert said meekly.

As the short interaction between the man in combat gear and the murderer went down, the officer documenting the whole thing sat stiffly, in secondhand fear of Snake Eyes, while Yuri scolded himself for being attracted to how the man scolded the criminal like a child for interrupting him. No one had ever really defended him or taken care of him like that besides his sister.

"How many others have you killed," Yuri asked cooly, with fake composure, as he thought fondly of the mercenary in the room with him. Halbert hesitated but answered immediately when he heard Snake Eyes cock his gun, something that made every man in the room flinch.

"Thirteen! I-Including the woman!!" Halbert yelped. His attitude significantly changed from the cool and irritated front he had put on when they originally entered the room.

Yuri continued to ask the man questions, discovering the whereabouts of each victim's body, the people Halbert worked with, and the names of the people he had killed, ending the integration, not without Snake Eyes striking fear into everyone in the room a few more times, of course. Exiting the interrogation room, Yuri peeled his leather gloves off, sighing and relaxing his shoulders.

"Thank you for helping with the interrogation. It would have taken impossibly long without you. I doubt we would have gotten so much information out of him, too." Yuri praised the armored man beside him.

"𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚒𝚍 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔?" Snake Eyes said, leaning down to speak closer to his ears. He did not like to raise his voice much. He was confused at what the smaller man was talking about. Yuri was baffled, not understanding how the mercenary was unaware of all the help he provided.

"He wouldn't have talked if he wasn't so afraid of you. You destroyed his confidence." He smiled up at the other, placing a hand appreciatively on the man's bicep.

He almost flinched at the feeling of the other's muscled arm underneath his hand. Sure, his undershirt was skin-tight, and his T-shirt was relatively form-fitting as well, but even by touching his arm himself, Yuri knew that he could only imagine how shredded Snake Eyes was under all his gear. The mercenary hummed in response to what Yuri had said, probably still somewhat confused. He was about to speak up when the Second-Lieutenant spoke again.

"So, where does the codename Snake Eyes come from? If it's okay to ask.." He trailed off, suddenly fidgety and nervous. His face reddened as the pause in the conversation grew.

"𝙸 𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚕 𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝙸 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢 𝚍𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚐𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚜.." The man admitted, feeling a little foolish for his reasoning. "𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚢 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚘 𝙸 𝚐𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔𝚜." he continued.

There was a short pause. Yuri was processing what had happened, surprised by how much he was willing to talk to him, given that he had been warned that the man was usually very quiet. He was snapped out of his jumbled thoughts when the taller laughed.

"𝙸 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚒𝚝'𝚜 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚙𝚒𝚍. 𝙷𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚌𝚘𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝙸 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗." He finished. Yuri blushed heavily and sputtered for a moment before he could speak clearly.

"I-I think it makes sense to protect yourself and your family. Well, I'm a little confused about using it in the SSS, but you are a mercenary!" He fidgeted as he spoke, afraid of scaring the other away with the things he said.

"𝙸𝚝'𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝. 𝙸 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚏𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚢 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞, 𝙸𝚝'𝚜 𝚊 𝚌𝚘𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚙𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎... 𝙰𝚗𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚎 𝚖𝚎, 𝚜𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚙𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚎..." He trailed off for a moment. "𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚎 (𝚈/𝙽) 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑." He gave his real name, for once seeming nervous himself.

Yuri was ecstatic that (Y/N) had decided that he trusted him enough to give his real name; he rolled the name through his head over and over, repeating it in his thoughts, even analyzing it, 'Where was it from? Certainly not Ostania.' he thought.

"Ah! You can call me Yuri; there's no need for the Second-Lieutenant stuff!!" he stuttered. An intense blush rushed to his face, spreading to his ears and the back of his neck. As he stumbled around with his words, (Y/N) undid the clip on his helmet and pushed it back a bit, leaning down and pressing his forehead against Yuri's.

"𝙰𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚒𝚌𝚔? 𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚗𝚎𝚌𝚔 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚍." He said, removing one of his gloves, the velcro sending a crackling sound through the air as he pressed his bare hand against the back of Yuri's neck. Though some of the man's hair and skin were revealed at this moment, Yuri saw none of it. The blush spread down his shoulders and even appeared on his fingertips as his entire body went hot. He Passed out.

(2,623 words)

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

hii I love ur Casey fics sm!!

could I please request a Casey Novak fluff where Olivia is ur mum and you get into an accident or something with a perp, whatever u prefer to write and they find out when they’re both at the hospital with you thank youuuu <3

Hey, anon! Thanks so much for this request! This is actually the most fun I've had writing in a while. I was literally laughing out loud writing this. Hope you enjoy! ❤️ –illdowhatiwantthanks

When Worlds Collide

Casey Novak x fem!reader / Olivia Benson x daughter!reader Warnings: hospital times, age difference relationship, under the influence of pain meds, explicit language (let me know if I've missed anything!) Word count: 1.4k

Summary: After a car wreck puts you in the hospital, your worlds collide. In this case, your worlds being your girlfriend, ADA Casey Novak, and your mom, Captain Olivia Benson.

Olivia signed in at the nurse’s station, her handwriting messy from her shaking hands. She knew you were an adult. She knew you could take care of yourself. But what mother wouldn’t be scared out of her mind after getting a call that her daughter was in the hospital after a car crash. The nurses at the station outside the ER had assured her that you were okay, just banged up. But, well, she was your mom. She’d stay worried until she could see with her own two eyes that you were alright.

“Olivia?”

Olivia jumped at the voice, recognizing it immediately.

“Casey, hey,” she said, noticing her ADA’s unkempt appearance. She’d clearly just come from the gym or home or somewhere like that, as evidenced by her running clothes. She looked anxious, too. “What are you doing here?”

“My girlfriend’s here,” she explained, voice shaky as she signed in, too.

“Jesus.” Olivia shook her head. “Must be something in the air today.”

“Are you here for work?” Casey asked, following Olivia through the double doors that led out of the ER waiting room.

She shook her head. “No, actually. My daughter was in a car wreck.”

“Oh, god, I’m so sorry,” Casey empathized. “I hope she’s okay.”

“Yeah, me too.”

They both stopped outside of Room 112, each shuffling awkwardly for a moment.

“Well,” Olivia started. “I hope your girlfriend’s okay. I’ll let you get to her.”

“Same with your daughter,” Casey added, nodding emphatically.

But, still, neither moved.

“I’m sorry,” Olivia tried again. “This is actually my daughter’s room, so I’m gonna go in now.”

Casey gaped at her, face burning. “This is your daughter’s room?”

“Yeah?” Olivia confirmed, not understanding the confusion.

“No, this is my girlfriend’s room,” Casey insisted.

The two looked at each for a long moment, gears turning until they finally clicked.

Olivia fumbled with her words. “I– you… are you…?”

Casey threw open the door and stared at you, your eyes wide and your smile even wider–you were clearly high on pain meds. “This is your daughter?” she asked Olivia, gesturing toward you.

But you answered all their questions as soon as you spoke.

“Look at this!” you observed out loud, as if you truly could not believe it in your drugged state. “My two favorite women in the whole world are here! At the same time! Wow!”

Casey sat heavily in a chair near the bed. “Oh my god,” she groaned. “Y/N, what?! Your mom is Captain Olivia Benson?!”

Olivia stood at the edge of the room, face burning, looking back and forth between you and Casey, as if she couldn’t decide who to yell at first.

“Olivia, I had no idea. I swear,” Casey said, trying to defend herself.

Your eyes narrowed, as if you were in on the world’s most obvious secret. “I had an idea,” you whispered to Casey in your loudest voice.

“Why didn’t you say anything then, you asshole?!” she yelled, trying and failing to be mad at you. It was so hard when you had that bandage on your head, with your dopey grin, and your eyes so, so clearly full of nothing but love.

“I like to walk on the wild side,” you slurred.

“No you fucking don’t!” Olivia finally yelled. “You’ve been a goody-two-shoes since before you were born. You have a 4.0 in graduate school, for god’s sake. What the hell is happening right now? Are you mad at me!? Are you going through a late-bloomer rebellious stage?”

“Oh, Mom,” you said, giggling at her. If you had looked at Casey, you would have seen her absolutely horrified by how nonchalant you were being. “Lighten up. It doesn’t have anything to do with you.”

“And you!” Olivia railed, starting in on Casey. She sat still, penitent, staring at the ground, as if preparing to accept a well-deserved lecture. “What the hell are you doing with a 20-year-old?!”

“24!” you protested.

“You’re my age! She could be your daughter!”

“I mean, I’m a little bit younger than you,” Casey grumbled.

“Mom,” you whined. “Don’t scare off my girlfriend. I like older women, okay? It’s no big deal.”

“I’m not old,” Casey protested quietly, shooting you a glare.

“Of course you’re not, babe. You’re perfect,” You tried and failed to pat her on the arm, instead just waving your hand in the air.

“I just…” Olivia let out a shaky breath. “I think I need a minute. I’ll… I’ll be back in a few.”

“Uh-oh,” you said, raising your eyebrows at Casey as the door swung shut. “Do you think she’s mad at me?”

Casey sighed and stared at you, brushing a strand of hair affectionately off your forehead. “Maybe a little… I think she’s more mad at me. I’m gonna go talk to her. I’ll be right back.”

“Wait, don’t leave me!” you called pitifully, grasping for her hand.

She smiled and laughed a bit, bending to kiss your forehead. “Are you listening to me?! I said I’d be right back. Calm down.”

Another dopey grin, and you brought her hand to your lips to kiss her palm. “Sorry. It’s hard to listen when you look so pretty.”

Casey beamed at you, her face reddening a bit. “You’re a dork,” she added before pushing the door open to go find Olivia.

Casey almost walked right into her as she stepped out the door.

“Oh,” Casey said, startled. “I was just coming to find you.” Suddenly, the thought that Olivia might have been watching through the sliver of glass in the door made Casey’s heart sink. “Did you, uh…” Her face was beet red by now. “Did you see–”

“Yes,” Olivia interrupted, her voice softer than before.

“I really am sorry, Olivia.” Casey wrung her hands. “I had no idea she was your daughter. If I had known, I would have…” “Would have what?” Olivia prompted, watching Casey closely.

Casey sighed, deciding that honesty was the best policy. “I don’t know actually. I was going to say that I would have made sure you were okay with it, but… I don’t know if that’s true. I really care for her.”

Olivia nodded, seeming to ponder Casey’s words for a moment.

“Do you love her?” she finally asked.

“Yeah, I do.” Casey’s voice was quiet, hesitant. She wasn’t quite sure how Olivia would respond, but she wasn’t about to lie or hide. Olivia’d had enough hidden from her recently.

Olivia sighed and rubbed her forehead. “Okay.”

Casey looked genuinely shocked. “Okay? Really?”

“I mean…” Olivia shrugged. “She’s an adult. It’s not really my place to tell her who to date. And, well, I can’t say you’d be at the bottom of the list of people I know that I’d want her to date.”

This felt a little insulting, considering their long work history, but Casey decided to let it slide given the circumstances.

“But if you hurt her?” Olivia’s voice turned dark for a moment, her glare so piercing that Casey almost had to look away. “Well, I know you know what kind of gun I carry.”

“Jesus, Olivia! I’m not gonna hurt her!”

Now that they were both quiet, they could hear you calling from inside the room.

“Mooooommmm,” you yelled. “Don’t scare my girlfriend, pleasseeeee! I love her! I want her to kiss me!”

Your face lit up when they walked into the room together. “Mom!” you called. “Did you know Casey is an ADA? That’s hot.”

Olivia rolled her eyes and sat on the side of your bed opposite Casey. “Yes, my love,” she said. “Believe it or not I did know about Casey being an ADA.”

You giggled to yourself conspiratorially, as if you’d just orchestrated the world’s best joke. “I know!”

“But Mooommm,” you continued. “Did you know I love her?”

“Now I do,” she grumbled.

You let your eyes fall on Casey, reaching out for her hand.

“I love her hair and her eyes and her face.”

Casey smiled at you, and you continued, letting your eyes wander down her body.

“I love her lips and her–”

“Okay!” Casey interrupted, blushing. “I think we get it, honey. Please stop talking now.”

But you were just so happy. Your head felt fuzzy and light, and the room was bright and warm, and your two favorite people were here.

“This is the best day of my life,” you said, tearing up. Casey held onto one of your hands, and your mom held the other, and for just a brief moment you saw them make eye contact, and it was as if they decided together that there was room for both of them to love you.

[nikkento-writes]

Bad Romance

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!reader

Rating: Explicit - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~2.7k

cw: Wild West au, no curses au, violence, implied sex work, explicit language, explicit sexual content, smut - PIV sex, blow job, cunnilingus, dirty talk, pet names, creampie

Summary: You’re the Vixen Viper, an outlaw on the run with an outstanding bounty. You find a temporary safe-haven at the Star Saloon, protecting the women who work there while they protect you from the authorities. One night, a bounty hunter by the name of Toji Fushiguro shows up, threatening to cause some trouble. Somehow, you find the perfect way to subdue him.

Author's Note: This is a repost from my old blog! I originally wrote this as a request for a milestone event I was doing and it's still one of my fave fics that I've written, so I wanted to share it on here. I'm thinking of writing a Part 2 to this, we'll see! I just love the idea of Toji in the Wild West, idk, I think it fits him very well. Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are never expected, but always appreciated. Thanks for reading! Divider credit to @/fic-dumpster.

Midnight at the Star Saloon is always lively with rambunctious activity. It’s the perfect time for stragglers moseying through town or the miscreant locals to stop by for a break, meaning booze, gambling, or sex. Usually all three in one night. You’ve been a regular here for almost three months now, befriending the women and men who work hard to keep the patrons satisfied. Whether it’s serving alcohol until they fall out of their seats, enabling poker addictions, or riding their cocks in one of the private rooms upstairs at a special rate, they do it all to make an honest living. Though on occasion, customers will cross the line.

And that’s where you come in.

It started two months ago, after you had frequented the saloon enough times to be considered a regular. It was around three in the morning when one of the barmaids approached you, asking you to follow her upstairs. She led you into the private room all the way down the hall, and inside was another worker, sitting at the foot of the bed, cheek swollen and a black eye all on the left side of her face. That’s all you needed to see to set you off. The perp had already left, but you knew who he was as soon as she described him. And, of course, like all assholes do, thinking they got away with it, he came back. When he did, it was you this time who took him upstairs to that same bedroom, dressed in one of the barmaid’s outfits. You, who flirted with him and stripped him naked on the bed, promising to give him exactly what he deserved. And finally, it was you who robbed him and held a sharp blade to his pathetic penis, threatening to slice it right off if he ever showed his ugly fucking face in this town again. You haven’t seen him since.

At that time, your friends at the Star Saloon already knew you were someone who could handle things. Maybe it was the way you dressed at first, often showing up in cowboy attire, ready to book it if the situation called for it. Or maybe it was because they recognized you from the wanted posters plastered in the next town over, your silly nickname the Vixen Viper in big bold print below an unflattering photo of you from the last time you landed in jail, right before you escaped. They never mentioned it; never reported you to the authorities. Instead, they welcomed you in with open arms. There’s a bounty on your head for the crimes you committed against sleazy men like that, but you hold no guilt for your actions. To you, and to all the women in the saloons you’ve frequented, it’s justice. They need someone like you to protect people like them. Because lord knows that no one else in this godforsaken world will.

You’ve lasted three months in this town without the authorities catching on to you yet. You look quite different from your poster when you’re done up in makeup and a frilly dress, dagger concealed in the garter wrapped around your thigh. And with the help of your friends, you’ve managed to hide in plain sight, posing as one of the barmaids while you patrol the late-night crowd for any possible threats. Violence against these women has significantly lessened since you’ve been around. The rumor amongst the patrons is that men who misbehave get their money taken and their dicks chopped off, which is pretty spot-on to the actual truth. So fortunately, for both the workers and the customers, there isn’t any trouble. 

Tonight is a little different.

You lean against the bar doing your usual inspection, checking for people who are causing a ruckus or getting rough with any of the ladies. You’re dressed similarly to them, though you never get requested to entertain in one of the private rooms above, considering you don’t go out of your way to flirt with any of the men. You lack the illustrious charm the others do; you’re only here for when things get ugly. It surprises you when a mysterious stranger on the other side of the room points to you directly, wiggling his finger to beckon you over. He smirks, the prominent scar on his lips curving with it. You grab your drink and walk over to him, curious to see what this is about, sensing that it can’t be anything good.

When you reach his table, you give him your most cordial smile. “Good evening, sir. Is there something I can help you with?”

He grins, waving to the seat across from him. “I was hoping you can join me for a little chat.” His tone is even, though there’s a hint of something sinister in there. Maybe it’s your imagination or better yet, your intuition. You’ll soon find out.

You drag the chair out, plopping into it, laying your hands flat on your lap, palm pressed to the knife hidden beneath your skirt. He scans you up and down before asking, “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

Resisting the urge to roll your eyes at him, you answer, giving him a fake one, of course. He nods, accepting it. “Toji Fushiguro. Pleasure to meet you.” He holds his hand out, which you take reluctantly, shaking it. His grip is firm, callouses rough against your own. “I saw you and knew I had to meet you.”

Your raise a brow at him. “Oh? What about me caught your eye?"

“Thought I recognized you from somewhere.” His gaze lingers on yours, expression unwavering.

Your heart stops momentarily, a rock settling in the pit of your stomach. Not here, not now. You swallow thickly, feigning ignorance. “Really? From where?”

He slides you a rolled-up paper, nodding his head for you to open it. “Take a look.”

Trembling now, you obey, unraveling it slowly until you see the words WANTED: ALIVE and your face staring back at you. There’s no need to go any further. You fold it up immediately, heart racing, glancing at your surroundings hoping no one else is listening in on your conversation. As calmly as you can, you lean forward towards him, muttering, “So what, are you going to arrest me? Hog-tie me in front of all these people?”

He inches even closer, noses nearly touching now, his breath tickling you. “Now, I’m a gentleman. I like to know a woman first before I tie her up.”

You scoff. “So what, am I supposed to come quietly then?”

He glances at your mouth, then back to your eyes. “I’m willing to negotiate if you have something to offer.”

You clear your throat, intrigued by his response. “Let’s discuss this somewhere more private,” you say, grabbing his wrist and dragging him up the stairs with you.

“Lead the way, Vixen.”

You lead him to the very end of the hallway, the furthest room away from the bar downstairs. There’s a fire escape just outside the window, your best chance to evade arrest. First, you’ll have to subdue him.

Inside, you lock the door shut, turning to face him. “Are you a police officer?”

He shakes his head. “Guess again,” he answers, opening his coat to display the gun and knife hanging on his belt.

“Bounty hunter,” you state, glaring at him.

“Yup. And you, my dear, have a very hefty bounty on your pretty little head.” He steps towards you, caging you between his arms, your back flat against the door. Although you remain untouched, his presence is suffocating.

“What do want?” you ask him, breathing in deeply through your nose.

“All the loot you robbed from those scumbags. Enough to exceed the bounty I’d get if I brought you back with me.”

You smirk. “Is that it?”

“And a deal,” he adds. “A partnership.”

You stare at him, confused. “What?”

He laughs, amused by your reaction. “I’ll admit, I’m a fan of your work. Drifting through town-to-town, robbing sleazy assholes. And you haven’t been caught until now. It’s impressive.”

You’re caught off guard by the praise, relaxing just the slightest bit. “So, what do you propose?”

He lets his arms down, placing his hands in his pockets while he explains himself. “There are several bounties for men exactly like the ones you hate. If you promise to help me get them, I won’t take you in tonight. I’ll even give you some of the money. If you’re good.”

“And why can’t you do this yourself?”

“It’s easier to get a guy when his guard’s down. If there’s a pretty little thing like you seducing him, catching him will be easy as pie.”

You stare at him, contemplating his proposition. It’s an easy decision for you to make. It’s either this, or jail. “Fine. You have a deal.”

He offers his hand to you. “Put it there, partner.” His tone is soft, almost sincere. You can’t help thinking that if this were any other scenario, you’d find him attractive. Hell, even in this one, you’re drawn to him. You take his hand, shaking it. He tugs you in closer, voice low and seductive. “I think we should celebrate this new friendship. What do you say?”

You smile at him, what feels like the first genuine one of the night. Maybe this isn’t as bad as you initially thought. When you close the distance, his mouth is on yours quickly, lips smacking, wet and sloppy. He slides out of his jacket, letting it thud loudly on the hardwood with his weapons weighing it down. The shirt he wears is tight on his body, clinging to him, emphasizing his muscular physique. You can’t remember the last time you were intimate with a man without the intention to backstab him. In fact, it’s been a while since you were intimate at all. With him guiding you, however, you match his movements naturally, sliding your hands up his torso, pawing at his chest as his hands squeeze your hips, pulling you towards the bed.

He moans, slipping his wide tongue past your lips, deepening the kiss and exerting his dominance. “Can’t wait to see what the Vixen Viper can really do,” he huffs, hoisting the hem of your dress, bunching it in his fist. His fingers trail the inside of your thighs, stopping at the garter, feeling the handle of the knife strapped to you. He clicks his tongue, mouth hovering your ear, hooking his finger to snap the elastic against your skin. “You really are dangerous.”

You let out a whimper, your pussy throbbing with arousal. He grabs the blade by the handle, whipping it out from its holster, tossing it to the other side of the room away from you. You chuckle, lifting your arms up so he can strip you properly. “Are you scared of me?”

He removes your corset swiftly, squeezing your bare breasts in his hands, thumbs flicking at your nipples. “I don’t want to get stabbed in case you change your mind.”

You shove him onto the bed, where he lies flat on his back, watching you straddle his lap, naked. “If I do that, then I wouldn’t get to fuck you.”

He laughs loudly, biting his lip. “Oh? You’re the one who’s gonna fuck me?”

“Yeah, I reckon,” you reply, unbuckling his belt and undoing his zipper. He continues to watch you intently, groaning when you shimmy his pants off to release his cock. It flops against his abdomen, even bigger than you imagined, all veiny and girthy. You salivate at the sight of it, opening your mouth for a taste.

“Fuck,” he curses, head relaxing into mattress, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling as you sink down on him, swallowing him up until the tip hits the back of your throat. You bob up and down on his shaft, gripping the base of his cock, swirling your tongue around the head. “You suck cock like a fucking whore. Did your friends out there teach you that?”

You grasp his balls in your hand, squeezing them tight, causing him to shudder. Shaking your head, you say, “I learned this from experience.”

He smirks. “Yeah? Come here. Put this pussy on my face. Bet I can teach you something you haven’t learned yet.”

You release him, crawling up his body until your wet cunt is pressed to his lips. His tongue laps at your arousal, swirling around your aching clit. You grip the top of the headboard, grinding on him. “Oh fuck!”

His hands surround your ass, squeezing at your soft cheeks, fingers digging into your flesh. He hums into your skin, the vibrations adding to the sensation. He nods beneath you, encouraging you. “That’s it, sweetheart. Take it. Take it like a good slut.”

He takes you into his mouth, slurping at your clit until your gushing all over his face, your orgasm shiny on his lips and chin. His eyes are wild with excitement, peering up at you between your legs. Kissing the plush of your thighs, he says, “Well, go on then, Vixen. Fuck me.”

Soon, you’re sinking down onto his fat cock, pussy already soaking wet with slick and spit. He fills you up to the brim, taking a few seconds to adjust to size comfortable. When you’re ready, you start to bounce on his lap, his cock thrusting in and out of you smoothly. He hits your sweet spot over and over, stimulating you into another messy orgasm after just a few solid strokes. Your tongue hangs out of your mouth, drool leaking down your chin, throat dry from the incessant moaning.

“Look at you. So fucked out for me,” he growls, planting his feet on the bed, taking control. He grabs onto your hips firmly, pounding up into you, watching your entire body convulse with each delicious thrust. “You talk a big game, but you like being manhandled like this. You’re just a slutty little hole waiting to be ruined. Waiting for the right man to use you.” He presses his thumb to your clit, massaging it with deep strokes. “Seems like you finally met the perfect partner.”

“Fuck, Toji!” you cry out, unraveling once again.

He increases his pace, the bed creaking noisily below you. “That’s it, baby. Come with me. Gonna breed this perfect pussy. Gonna fill you up so fucking good.” He pulls you down towards him, wrapping you in his arms, kissing you fiercely as he pumps his load inside you.

You both lay still for a moment, catching your breaths, Toji peppering delicate smooches along your neck. You’re surprised at how gentle he’s being, considering his brutish behavior from earlier. When enough silence passes, you look at him, grinning. “What a way to celebrate, am I right? Partner?”

He laces his fingers with yours. “The beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

After you clean yourselves up as best as possible, you snuggle together under the covers, him spooning you from behind. “’Night, Toji Fushiguro.”

He nuzzles his nose to the nape of your neck, whispering, “What’s your real name?”

You smile, grazing your lips on his knuckles, actually giving it to him.

~~~

Toji Fushiguro, the most sought-after bounty hunter in all the west, wakes up the morning feeling fantastic.

He glances to his side, hoping to see his lovely new partner still peacefully asleep beside him. To his surprise, no one is there. He inspects the room, searching for clues on where she ran off to and notices nothing.

And that’s when it hits him. There’s nothing in the room.

All his clothes are gone, his weapons, the wallet full of cash buried in his pockets, even the very blanket they fell asleep under. He’s as naked as the day he was born, confused and beguiled until he finally realizes it. He’s been robbed. And it was the Vixen Viper who robbed him.

The only thing he finds is her wanted poster, folded up on the bedside table, a small note scribbled to the back of it:

Toji - Thanks for the fun night, but I don’t do partners. Maybe the next time you catch me, I’ll reconsider.  

He laughs, unable to contain his smile as he reads her real name signed at the end of it.

[hollyethecurious]

CS AU: Sleeps Ten, My Ass (1/2)

Summary: It's become tradition for Emma Swan to spend the holidays with her brother, their cousins, and their families. This Christmas was no different. The group booked a four night stay at a cozy mountain cabin to celebrate. The listing said it sleeps ten, but upon arrival they discover a small issue. The listing was wrong and now Emma and Killian Jones, the only two single people within their group, have to spend the next four nights sharing a bed. Fortunately... they've shared a bed before.

A/N: @eastwesthomeisbest it is I, your CS Secret Santa! Thank you for being so patient and understanding! I'm sorry I couldn't post this sooner, but between the normal busyness of the holidays and my entire family coming down with Covid, finding time to write was a struggle. I hope you find this worth the wait. It was lovely hearing about your traditions and I hope you had a fantastic holiday!

Thanks to @kmomof4 for looking this over for me and to the @cssecretsanta2020 for once again hosting a fantastic event. Side note, this fic also completes my Only One Bed: Holiday Edition CS Winter Bingo square!

Rated eventual E / Also available on ao3 / add to tag list / Curious? Come Ask Me!

Part One

She was late. Super late. Incredibly late. Late enough that she was certain her brother had already called the cops to report her missing. Late enough that it was already pitch black on the back mountain road, forcing her to drive at a creeping speed so she didn’t careen off the side of a cliff, which was making her even more late.

In her defense, they should all have expected that she’d be late. She was always late. Every dinner, every holiday get together, every vacation, every celebration, Emma Swan was always notoriously late.

Not because she didn’t want to spend time with her family. Far from. She just… wasn’t always in control over her own schedule. Bail bonds and bounty hunting wasn’t exactly a 9 to 5 gig, and when a mark finally crawled out of whatever hole in which he (it was more often than not a he) had hid himself away through some dumbass attempt to avoid the consequences of his own dumbass actions, well… many times it meant a change in her plans.

Was it annoying? Yes.

Did she make sure to take out that frustration on the perp? Also, yes.

Was it even worse for the offender when he made her late for the Christmas get-together her cousin Elsa had planned for them all - a four night stay at a picturesque mountain cabin big enough to sleep three married couples and two singles with amenities that would keep them cozy and content over the holiday? Oh, yes.

Big. Fat. Yes.

To go with the big fat payout she needed in order to pay her portion of said holiday getaway.

Rounding another winding corner, the soft glow of the illuminated cabin stirred a strange mix of sensations in her chest; a swirl of relief at nearly being there and panic over what was awaiting her inside. Parking her bug next to the vehicles that signalled she was indeed the last to arrive, Emma fortified herself for a moment before exiting the vehicle, grabbing her bag, and marching up to the cabin as though she were about to face a firing squad.

David, her brother, and Liam, Elsa’s husband, would likely scold her with their hands firmly planted on their hips or their arms crossed tightly over their chests. The rebukes would be drowned out by David’s wife, Mary Margaret, and Elsa’ sister, Anna, who would both rush at Emma and force her into claustrophobic hugs while they expressed their worry and relief, offering Emma a blanket, a place by the fire, a plate of food, a cup of tea, all without taking a breath between them as Anna’s husband, Kristoff, tried to tell the women to let Emma breathe and get settled.

The only one who would not be making a fuss would likely already have a drink ready for her, a knowing smirk teasing his lips as he tried to stifle an eye roll at the group’s overreaction.

Killian Jones. Liam’s brother and the only other single member of their group.

Hand on the doorknob, Emma took a deep breath and opened the door to the expected chaos. And chaos there was, but… none of it seemed to be about her and her tardiness.

Elsa and David were in the kitchen. One of their phones, clearly on speaker, was held between them as they argued with whoever was on the other end of the line. Liam and Kristoff were seated at the dining table with a laptop open, the elder Jones frantically typing and clicking as Kristoff scrolled on his phone with a furrowed brow.

“There’s nothing up here that could be used as an extra one,” Anna called out from the top of the stairs. “Mary Margaret and I have looked through all the closets and checked all the furniture.”

None of them had noticed her presence yet, and she was about to say something when heavy boot falls sounded from the porch behind her.

“Ah, Swan. You arrived in one piece then?” Killian said cheekily with an arm full of firewood.

“Uh, yeah,” she replied, setting her bag down so she could help with the load he was carrying. “Sorry I’m late.”

“No worries,” he assured her, making his way to the fireplace and stacking their logs beside the hearth. “You missed the initial excitement, but you’ve made it in time to witness the spiral everyone has since descended into.” Emma glanced around the cabin at the said spiral, wondering what had set everyone off as Killian added a couple of logs to the fire, then grabbed the poker so he could stoke it. “I told them I’d make do on the couch, or even a pallet on the floor, but--”

“Sleeps ten, my ass!” Elsa shouted as she angrily hung up the call. “They swapped out the couch and forgot to update the listing!”

“What?” Emma said, but no one other than Killian seemed to have heard her, or even realized she was there.

“That’s ridiculous!” Liam bellowed. “What do they plan to do about it?”

“Can they bring an air mattress or cot?” Kristoff asked, still scrolling through his phone. “Because none of the local stores seem to have one, and even if they did, they’d be closed by the time we got back to town.”

Killian stepped away from the fire he’d coaxed back to life and into the metaphorical one building at the kitchen island where the rest of their group - save for Emma - had gathered.

“I already told you, the couch will be fine.”

“Don’t be silly, Killian,” Anna replied. “Have you seen that couch? It’s far too narrow and your feet are gonna dangle off the end.”

“Then the floor will suit me--”

“For the amount of money we spent renting this place, you are not sleeping on the floor,” Elsa declared. “I cannot believe this! How could they make a mistake like that?”

“What did the owner say?” Mary Margaret asked, setting out a platter of food she’d removed from the fridge and encouraging everyone to eat something… as though snacking would somehow fix the issue. An issue Emma still wasn’t sure was the cause of everyone’s upset.

“He won’t do anything,” Elsa snapped. “He said they had to replace the couch, which had been a sleeper, and apparently forgot to update the listing, but didn’t see the problem since we only have eight people, not ten, and there are four king size beds.”

“Didn’t you explain that there weren’t four couples, though?”

“Oh, she did,” David interjected. “But the man didn’t seem to care about anything other than getting back to his tropical Christmas vacation.”

“So what do we do?” Anna asked. “Where is Killian gonna sleep?”

“He and I can just share the bed.”

Seven heads collectively snapped in her direction, a mixture of shock and surprise being directed her way as her family, for the first time, realized she was there and then computed her words.

Words she would later blame on the fact that although no one seemed bothered by the fact she was late, she still felt the need to make up for it and therefore was compelled to offer a solution to the problem, even if said solution meant sharing a bed with a man she absolutely did not have feelings for and no one would convince her otherwise, not even her own treacherous heart, and thereby torturing herself for the next several days.

“Are you sure, love?” Killian asked, his eyes scrutinizing her, looking for any hint that she might be regretting the offer and wished to back out. “I wouldn’t want you to do anything you weren’t completely comfortable with.”

“Are you planning to make it uncomfortable for her?” David asked in his overly protective, brotherly tone. “Because I’m warning you--”

“Warning him?” Liam braced his hands against the top of the island and leaned over it, staring David down as he asked, “Are you insinuating my brother is some sort of cad who would take advantage of--”

“We all know Killian’s reputation.”

“Okay,” Emma interjected before things could escalate further. “I think you’re all forgetting that I have a reputation, too. Of being able to take care of myself. Besides, I trust Killian. We’re both adults. There’s no reason for either of us to sleep on a couch or the floor when there is a perfectly good bed, big enough for us to share. So…” She marched back over to where she’d dropped her bag and collected it as she continued on, “If you don’t mind. I’ve had a long day and all I want right now is a shower and some sleep.” Directing her gaze to Killian she asked, “Where’s your stuff?”

“It’s uh…” he began, scratching behind his ear as he furtively cast a glance towards David. “It’s on the landing.”

“Great,” she said, turning towards the stairs. “Grab it on your way up so you can settle in while I shower.”

“Emma,” Mary Margaret called out. “Are you sure you don’t want anything to eat or--”

“I’m fine,” Emma answered back halfway up the stairs. “I’ll see you all in the morning.” Looking over her shoulder, she saw Killian hesitate at the bottom step. “Are you coming?”

“Aye,” he answered, following after her two steps at a time and grabbing his duffle before slipping into the room behind her.

Tossing his bag onto the bed, he glanced around the room and inquired one last time, “You’re certain you’re okay with this, Swan?”

“Yes, Jones,” Emma replied in an exasperated tone she hoped masked the nerves currently coursing through her. After gathering up her toiletry items, she straightened and faced him, a thought suddenly occurring to her. “Unless… You are uncomfortable with it and would rather--”

“No, no,” he insisted, his shoulders relaxing and his usual cocky demeanor coming forward. “It’s not that,” he said in a cheeky and slightly taunting tone.

“What is it then?” Emma asked, trying hard to not be taken in by his charm as he swaggered towards her.

“Well, I seem to remember you saying something about it being a one time thing the last time we shared a bed,” he crooned, twisting a section of her hair around his finger. “Seems you’ll have to eat those words now.”

Emma wet her lips and tried to squash the delighted feeling surging through her at the way his eyes dropped to follow the motion. “Bad form bringing up our… what did you call it?” she asked in a mocking tone as she cocked her head to one side. “Our dalliance?” He winced at her terrible attempt to mimic his accent and they both chortled as she reminded him, “I thought we agreed to never speak of that night again.”

“You’re right, Swan. Bad form indeed,” he conceded in a soft timbre. “My apologies, love.”

He backed away and retreated to the other side of the room where he made himself busy unpacking his duffle. “Go ahead and shower, Swan,” he said. “I’ll hop in after you.”

“Thanks,” she threw out over her shoulder as she shut herself in the bathroom, suddenly very eager to have a bit of separation from him. From him and the memory of that night. The night they had shared a bed - and a whole lot more - with one another after copious amounts of alcohol and hours on a dance floor somewhere in the Caribbean during the cruise they’d all taken together earlier that year to celebrate Liam and Elsa’s wedding.

A memory that stubbornly refused to be cast aside, making for a very long shower - a fitful, highly inappropriate shower - especially considering the man she’d been fixated on was in the next room, waiting on her to finish so he could get naked and wet and…

Dear God, Emma. Get a grip!

Emerging from the bathroom, adorned in her pajamas with her wet hair wrapped in a towel, Emma hoped the red in her cheeks would be chalked up to the heat of the shower and not because her fantasies had gotten away from her.

“All yours,” she said, pulling her hair dryer out of her bag and plugging it into the wall at the makeshift vanity.

She combed through the wet strands as Killian hovered at the doorway to the bathroom. Pausing her actions, she stared up at him expectantly, trying not to remember what he looked like shirtless.

“About before,” he said, his voice deep with an edge of concern. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable by bringing up that night, I just…” He left out a heavy breath and ran his hand through his hair. “I was just trying to bring a bit of levity to an otherwise tense situa--”

“Killian,” she said, waving him off. “It’s fine. Really. You didn’t upset me by bringing it up.” Shrugging, she tried to give off a sense of nonchalance about the whole thing. “It happened. We’ve both moved on from it. No big deal.”

“Right,” he said with a bit of a drawl. “Well… I’ll try not to take too long, so as to not keep you up.” Glancing towards the bed, he said, “I hope it’s okay that I took that side. I didn’t know if you had one you preferred.”

Emma turned to see which side he’d taken. Not that it mattered.

“Honestly,” she answered, “I don’t really have one. It’s not like I share my bed often enough with anyone to develop a preference.”

“Aye. Same,” he replied with that adorable lopsided smile of his.

Emma’s heart fluttered for several seconds after he disappeared into the bathroom. He didn’t often share his bed? Really? Like David had said earlier, Killian had a bit of a reputation as a ladies’ man. It was one of the reasons she’d pulled back after their night together; she’d hated being just another notch on his bedpost.

How many notches had he added since her, she wondered.

She had plenty of time to contemplate that question. It wasn’t until well after she’d dried her hair, set her alarm, and settled under the covers that Killian emerged from the bathroom. The last drowsy thought Emma had was whether he’d taken advantage of the memory of them together to help let off some steam whilst he was in the shower like she had. She didn’t get a chance to dwell on the thought, though. The tiring day had caught up to her and sleep took over the moment she felt the bed dip beside her.

~/~

“Morning, Emma! Sleep well?”

Anna’s voice was far too perky for the current early morning hour, causing Emma to grimace as she shuffled past the red headed woman on her way to the kitchen.

“Oh, sorry,” Anna whispered, tiptoeing behind her. “Coffee? I just brewed a fresh pot.”

“Please,” Emma grumbled, slumping down onto one of the barstools at the island. “A fresh pot? How early did you get up?”

“Mary Margaret and I got up with the guys,” she said, pouring Emma a cup, then placing it and a tray of fixings on the counter top in front of her. “We wanted to make sure they got a good meal and some coffee before they headed out.”

Emma nodded her understanding, adding enough sugar to her cup that it would have earned her a disgusted look from Killian had he been there and not out traipsing through the woods with an axe. It was an annual tradition at this point. For the past five years - ever since the Jones brothers had entered their lives through Liam and Elsa’s courtship - the guys went out on Christmas Eve morning and cut down a tree for them to decorate. While they were out finding the perfect specimen, Mary Margaret would lead - or in Emma’s case, berate - the girls in making the decorations. The guys would join in once they got back and set up the tree, and the day would be spent stringing popcorn or dried oranges or cranberries for garland as well as attempting to avoid tiny cuts from the origami-esque construction of paper or cardboard ornaments.

There were also snacks and cocktails, the occasional break from crafting to watch a Christmas movie or play a game. Of course, every year, Emma and Killian would insist they watch Die Hard, which Mary Margaret would dismiss as not being a Christmas movie and an argument would ensue - mostly because it gave both Emma and Killian a perverse sense of pleasure to rile up Mary Margaret. Not that they didn’t love the movie or wholeheartedly believe that it was, in fact, a Christmas movie.

“Oh, Emma! You’re up!” Mary Margaret set down a stack of boxes on the island, the contents of which held various crafting supplies no doubt. “Did you get some breakfast?”

Emma shook her head and waved off the woman’s attempt to feed her. “Not yet,” she said. “I’ll get something after I’m sufficiently caffeinated.”

“Well drink up,” Mary Margaret ordered as she began to retreat back into the room she and David were using. “We need to get going on these decorations.”

A moment later she returned with several sacks and with Anna’s help, began organizing the supplies. Emma took that as her cue to find another place to enjoy her coffee.

Glancing out the French doors that led to the back deck she caught sight of a platinum blonde braid. Emma grabbed a blanket from the back of the couch and wrapped it around her shoulders before joining Elsa in the peace and quiet of the mountain morning.

“Hey,” she said, pulling Elsa’s attention away from the view. “Mind if I join you?”

“Please do,” Elsa replied, making room on the bench. “Do you want me to turn on the heater?”

It shouldn’t have surprised Emma that her cousin hadn’t already started the propane heater. The cold had never seemed to bother her like it did Emma.

“No, I’ve got it.” Emma cranked up the heat then sat down, snuggling into the blanket she’d brought out with her.

“Sleep okay?” Elsa asked. “Any problems with the room?”

“No,” Emma answered, taking a sip of her coffee before adding, “The room’s great. Very comfortable.”

“Good,” Elsa said, turning her attention back towards the snowy mountain view. “And sharing with Killian? That, uh… Did that go okay?”

Emma rolled her eyes and hid her knowing smirk behind her mug. “It was fine,” she replied.

“I mean, I’m sure Killian was a gentleman, I just hate that the two of you have to endure this awkwardness when I did my best to--”

“Elsa,” Emma interrupted. “It isn’t your fault, and we will make do. It’s fine. Really.”

The icy blonde’s shoulders relaxed and a puff of exhaled air lingered at her lips for a moment before she said, “Good. I’m glad.” With a furtive glance in Emma’s direction she muttered, “Let’s just hope David thinks it's all fine.”

“I’m a big girl,” Emma reminded her cousin. “David will get over it.”

“I don’t know,” Elsa replied in a sing-song tone. “He was looking pretty hostile this morning when Killian sauntered down the stairs with a whistle on his lips. I’m pretty sure Liam made sure to be the one who took the axe when they left.”

The two women shared a chuckle, both of them knowing full well there was no danger of the men resorting to violence, even if they did bluster a bit.

“I’m sure Killian is reveling in the opportunity to needle David, but I trust Liam to make sure cooler heads prevail.”

“And his needling wouldn’t have any elements of truth in it, right?” Elsa inquired, not so subtly.

Emma sighed exasperatedly. “No,” she stated adamantly. “Nothing happened, and nothing is going to happen.”

She shifted uncomfortably under Elsa’s scrutiny, her piercing blue eyes cutting through her assertions as she hummed a dubious sound.

“If you say so.”

Emma was about to double down on her words, but was cut off by Anna’s sudden appearance.

“Everything is ready! Come make decorations with us!”

Emma and Elsa shared a resigned look then followed Anna back into the cabin, after shutting off the heater, of course. The ladies then spent the next hour or so making handmade decorations whilst also prepping food items for the upcoming meals.

When the guys returned, Emma stayed out of the way. She’d learned from years past to just let David, Liam, Mary Margaret, and Elsa duke it out on the best way to set up the tree. While the four of them conferenced in the living room, she joined Anna in the kitchen, who was busy making everyone a hot cocoa.

“Need a hand?”

“Yes, please!”

The two women filled and garnished mugs of hot cocoa while every so often peeking outside to watch Kristoff and Killian clean up the tree. Once it was suitable for indoors - and they’d gotten the final word of where to set it up - the men brought it inside and secured it in the stand. Everyone stood back to admire the magnificent find as Emma and Anna handed out the beverages.

“Jones,” Emma said, offering him a hot cup as she came to stand beside him.

“Thank you, love,” he replied, slightly out of breath. A half-smile pulled at his lips and crinkled at the corner of his eyes when he noticed she’d adorned his in the same manner as hers - with whipped cream and a sprinkle of cinnamon. It was how she’d always taken her cocoa and slowly but surely she was converting the rest of their group to do the same.

“It’s a great looking tree,” she commented, sipping her hot chocolate nonchalantly so he wouldn’t read too much into her compliment.

“Aye,” he said, taking another long look at the fruit of his and the other men’s labor. A fruit that was quickly filling the living room with a pungent pine scent that tickled Emma’s sinuses. “And what of your efforts?” he asked, turning his attention onto her. “Care to show me what you lasses have been working on and how I might assist?”

Emma rolled her eyes and led him to the dining table where he prompted her to give him a demonstration of the crafting. Soon, the others joined them and the day went on just as Emma knew it would: completing the decorations, stringing lights and garlands, decorating the tree, gorging themselves on a big meal, partaking in snacks, then some drinks, then some more drinks, and arguing over then watching several Christmas themed movies and shows. Unfortunately, no Die Hard.

“You know, Swan,” Killian whispered in her ear as everyone began to disperse from the living room to turn in for the night. “We have a TV with streaming services in our room…”

The feel of his breath against the shell of her ear, as well as the way he said ‘our room’ sent a thrill up her spine.

Fortunately, he didn’t seem to notice.

Was it fortunate?

“Your point?” she said, her voice a little too breathy, but maybe he’d think it was because they’d just climbed the steep steps to the second floor.

“My point,” he continued, following her into their - THE - room, “is once we’ve showered and readied ourselves, we can watch Die Hard in bed and celebrate the season properly.”

“Sounds like a plan, Jones,” she replied, even as her heart skipped a few beats at the reminder they’d both be taking turns getting naked and wet with only a flimsy door that did not lock between them.

Ever the gentleman, Killian let her go first. While he took his turn, she busied herself with getting ready for bed, queuing up the movie, and adding an extra blanket to the stack of covers. In no time, they were settled on their respective sides of the bed, enjoying watching John McClane run around Nakatomi Plaza barefoot whilst being a ‘fly in the ointment’ to Hans Gruber.

They both barely remained conscious, but somehow got to the credits before crashing. The constant recitation of dialogue probably helped.

At some point in the night, a rustling sound in the corner of the room stirred Emma. Instinctively, she reached over to feel for Killian, only to find his side of the bed empty.

“Killian?” she croaked out, his name heavy on her tongue from sleep. “What are you--”

“The heat went out,” he told her, making her aware of her own shivering and the frigid air of the room. “Elsa is having kittens over it,” he went on to explain. “Giving the owner a right earful as we speak.”

A low hum and soft glow began to fill the room. Killian stood and visibly shook himself before heading back to bed.

“What’s that?” Emma asked, shifting in bed and moving closer to the middle.

“Space heater,” Killian answered, still shivering from the cold. “The owner relented and gave us the code to the storage closet. There were a few of these in there.”

Emma hummed in response, her mind weighing whether to bring up the idea of--

“Swan?”

“Yeah?”

“Would you mind if we… that is,” he hedged, clearing his throat. “Until the heater manages to raise the temperature, would you be okay if we…”

“Sure,” she said, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically as she scooted closer to him.

“Thank you, love,” he murmured, his chest already plastered against her back and his face buried in the crook of her neck.

Emma moaned in relief, the heat of his body already warming her and staying the chills that had made her tense. In an effort to find a comfortable position for her legs - without entangling them with his - she rocked her hips back into his and felt…

“Bloody hell,” Killian grumbled in an embarrassed tone as he pulled away. “Apologies, Swan. I didn’t intend--”

“Killian,” she laughed, rolling over to face him. “It’s fine. It happens. You don’t have to be embarrassed.”

“I just don’t want you to think I have ulterior motives for suggesting--”

“I don’t,” she assured him. “I know guys can’t always control… that.”

“Well, I am usually much more in control of such things, I assure you.”

“I’m sure you are,” she said in an appeasing tone, earning her a side-eyed glare. “Seriously, though,” she continued, trying to coax him back to her. “Your morning wood doesn’t offend me, so will you please come back here.”

He relented after some not so gentle tugging, and a moment later they were once again entwined in the other’s arms.

“Mmmm,” Emma hummed, nestling a bit further into his chest. “How are you always so warm? I feel like I’m always cold.”

As Emma drifted off to sleep she was certain she heard him say, “I know, love. But I’ll always be here for you when you need to keep warm.”

Part Two

[kj-bee]

This is my VERY first Fic Writing year-end round-up and I'm really thankful to anyone who's ever read my fics and grateful to all the amazing friends that I have made due to writing fanfiction. It's truly been one of the best things that this year has brought me 💖

I was tagged by @firenati0n, @0npurpose, @sophie1973 @thesleepyskipper and @clockwrkpendrxgon !!

My details:

My ao3: KBee81

My fandom: Red, White & Royal Blue

Total no. of fics in 2024: 36 (33 oneshots and 3 multichaps with 1 that is still in progress)

Total word count: 135,989

JANUARY

🌟Lay Your Hands On Me (2.5K | Explicit)

Henry comes back to the Brownstone-and Alex-after being away. They missed each other (like always) but Henry missed a few things in particular.

FEBRUARY

🌟I don't want to dance (if I'm not dancing with you) (9.4k | Explicit | 2 chapters)

Alex is on a mission to "get plowed." Henry offers to help. Based on a rizcriz prompt.

🌟The Princess Question (1.1K | General)

Henry and Alex talk about princes and princesses with their daughter. She comes to some interesting conclusions.

🌟I'm a fire (I'll keep your brittle heart warm) (1.8K | Teen)

Henry and Alex have a different first meeting. Henry is a little awkward when confronted with Alex in a swimsuit. Based on a prompt from DIBS (@rwrqueer on X).

🌟all I know is (everything has changed) (1.3K | General)

Alex crashes his cart into Henry at the grocery store, causing a BIg realization.

MARCH

🌟the truth(or dare) from my red lips (4.5K | Teen)

Alex and Henry play Truth or Dare. They both come out winners.

🌟dancing round the kitchen in the refrigerator light (2K | Teen)

Inspired in part by geonBAEeee's art. Henry and Alex, now living in the Brownstone, celebrate Henry's birthday.

🌟Kiss and Tell (2.7K | Teen)

Inspired by @everwitch-magiks, a Kissing Booth AU of a Kissing Booth AU.

🌟make the friendship bracelets (2K | General)

Henry Fox wears friendship bracelets and Alex wants one too. Inspired by a post by @yrsdiaz and the Red, White and Royally Old group chat.

🌟champagne bubbles and buttercream kisses (2.1K | Explicit)

Henry helps Alex celebrate his birthday with champagne, a cupcake with buttercream frosting and a blowjob (a missing scene from CMQ's novel).

APRIL

🌟settle into slumber (deep as love) (1K | General)

Henry is putting his daughter to sleep with a bedtime story and Alex falls asleep too. Inspired by hn @shitsidrew on Twitter.

🌟never before and ever since (loml) (2K | Teen)

Henry and Alex ended things. But a few years later, Henry came out and abdicated. He moved to New York City to start a new life.

He finds a familiar pair of warm brown eyes in the crowd one night. Inspired by hn @shitsidrew art.

MAY

🌟I choose you and me (religiously) (7.7K | Mature)

Henry's POV of the Storming of Kensington and the V & A scene.

JUNE

🌟you'd have to stop the world (just to stop the feeling) (5.1K | Explicit)

Henry uses a condom as a bookmark but Alex finds a better use for it. Inspired by a tweet from mari @undrthe_figtree.

🌟cross your thoughtless heart (1.1K | General)

It’s a normal, ordinary Tuesday when Alex finally has the realization. He isn’t really sure how it began or when it started, but one random Tuesday, when he’s at work, he finally notices. Henry has been packing him lunches.

JULY

🌟summer lovin' (happened so fast) (3.8K | Teen)

Henry works up the courage to get Alex to sign his yearbook. It's the beginning of a summer romance...but what will happen in the fall? Inspired by Poms (@princebambiuk on Twitter).

🌟karaoke crimes (this song's for you) (1.3K | General)

His witness is unable to visually identify a suspect from the line up, so Detective Alexander Claremont-Diaz uses an unconventional method to pinpoint the perp. Inspired by Brooklyn 99.

🌟you kiss me (it stops time) (1.3K | Teen)

Alex and Henry are shoved in a closet for Seven Minutes in Heaven.

🌟everything you lose is a step you take (1.2K | Teen)

Alex moves to London and gets a UK phone number. It just so happens to be the old phone number of Arthur Fox. Every holiday, anniversary, or important day ever. Henry texts that number because it’s been vacant since his dad died. (a rizcriz prompt)

🌟Whisk-y Business (2.2K | Explicit)

Henry attempts to make a quiche. Alex is a little...distracting OR a fic based on @0npurpose's prompt "Take one more step and I can't be held accountable for my actions." (Part of Summer Switcheroo exchange)

🌟your future history (it's time) (739 | Teen)

Alex and Henry, both rugby players at the Olympics, take part in the tradition of switching shorts after the game. Henry wants to start a different tradition OR me getting inspired by a tweet about the Olympic rugby players switching shorts...

AUGUST

🌟swing with you (for the fences) (2.3K | General)

Olympian Alexander Claremont-Diaz-Fox has a very special cheering section when he swims for a medal. Inspired by @oohthephysicist's tweet.

🌟this happens once (every few lifetimes) (2.1K | General)

What happens when Alex and Henry go inside Alex's childhood home in Austin after the reelection. (A Missing Scene)

🌟save a horse (600 | General)

Inspired by a tumblr post from @rockingtheorange, Henry and Alex meet at a karaoke bar (a short drabble).

SEPTEMBER

🌟I bet (you can't only have one) (3.8K | Teen)

Alex and Henry have a Kissing Bet.

OCTOBER

🌟my beloved ghost (and me) (2.1K | General)

Alex is not crazy or insane, but he’s pretty sure that his apartment is haunted.

It’s a new development. Only in the last couple of days has he felt like he’s not alone, like there’s another presence in the apartment with him when he’s supposed to be by himself.

He has acquired a ghost, somehow. It’s the only explanation that makes sense.

🌟Talk Turkey to Me (1.5 | General)

Henry teases Alex about The Great Turkey Calamity.

🌟hooked on you (2.1K | General)

What he really needs is a distraction - something to get his mind off of how it feels like they are driving over large potholes in the sky. Something that takes all of his focus so he’s not thinking about all the ways he could die in this flimsy held-together-with-duct-tape-and-dreams bucket too many feet away from the sweet, safe and reliable ground beneath his feet.

Alex is running through a list of possible distractions when the ball of yarn hits him on the foot. Inspired by a post by CMQ during their travels for The Pairing book tour.

NOVEMBER

🌟you can see it (with the lights out) (6K | Teen)

Alex freezes, hands clenched at his side. The hair on the back of his neck stands up. “Wait,” he says slowly. “Are you telling me that I am not alone on the ship?”

His mother’s voice hums. Even though she’s not here, Alex feels like he can almost see her small smile. It was the same look that she gave him when she was helping him with his homework when he was little, and he got the answer right.

“Yes, Alex,” OS answers. “You are not alone.” A Darkness Outside Us AU.

DECEMBER

🌟the warmest bed (I've ever known) (7.2K | Teen)

Another caketastrophe, a few misunderstandings and OPERATION ONE BED.

🌟Spotify Wrapped Drabbles 2024 (1.6K | Teen)

A collection of drabbles inspired by my Spotify Wrapped.

🌟all dressed up (in stardust & tinsel) (3.4K | Teen)

Alex has had a long and storied love of Christmas trees and by extension, Christmas tree decorating. There’s a science to it. A method to the madness for maximum Christmas spirit and festivity.

Whatever Henry is doing? Well, it’s not it. It’s not even close.

OR Alex helps Henry decorate a Christmas tree and learns something new in the process.

🌟got my love (to keep me warm) (4.5K | Teen)

He plans to say something sweet perhaps, or at least something less abrupt and awkward. But like always, his mouth moves faster than his brain and he ends up blurting out “Do you think anyone actually knows what fun it is to ride a one horse open sleigh, or are we all just taking their word for it?”

Henry lifts his head up, and looks at Alex, fighting a smile. Alex can see the laughter in his eyes.

OR Operation One Bed continues when Alex and Henry go for a winter sleigh ride.

🌟take me home (forever and ever) (1.6K | Teen)

Alex has a proposal plan that doesn't, well, go according to plan.

🌟kiss me at midnight (4.8K | Teen)

Henry hates New Year's Eve, until he doesn't.

WIPs & UPCOMING FICS

🌟grab my hand (don't ever drop it) (36K | 6/? chapters | Mature)

This is a The Charm Offensive AU - Alex is a producer on a reality dating show where Henry is a reluctant Prince Charming who's dating a large group of women. When true love happens, it doesn’t always follow a script.

I WILL NEVER ABANDON THIS but I lost a little motivation for it. Finishing this fic is one of my goals for 2025.

🌟I have a few other things in mind and I have an upcoming fic for the Wrap It Up exchange. Looking forward to seeing how much I can improve as a writer and where writing takes me in the next year. Thank you all for your support and words of cheer because they really do encourage me!

If you have not been tagged, please use this as an open one and I will also tag a few people that I don't think I've seen fic round-ups from (no pressure):

@miharaikko @jafffacakess @msmarvelouswinchester

[absurdthirst]

Casual Neighbors {Marcus Pike x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 10.3k

Warnings: FWB, Oral sex (female receiving), vaginal sex, protected sex, unplanned pregnancy, mentions of abortions,

Comments: Training to be a nurse, your first patient is your handsome neighbor. Which leads to dinner, that turns into a FWB situation since Marcus is rethinking relationships and even having a family. Until you learn that you're pregnant when you are in your ultrasound class.

A/N: We based it alllllll off this TikTok. Yes, we are unhinged.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Marcus Pike MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

Marcus is exhausted, he needs to sleep but he’s been working all night long. Too busy trying to solve this latest case. The suspect had been brought in for questioning and held overnight. Marcus ran out of time around six in the morning and the perp had been released, making his department scramble for the evidence to arrest him. Marcus knows it’s him, he just has to prove it. He sighs and makes it up the last flight of steps on the floor to his apartment. In his exhaustion, he misses the last step and goes flying forward, hitting his head on the bannister and splaying over the floor.

“Oh my God, are you okay?” You had been leaving your apartment to go get some coffee and study before your class, leaving your apartment just in time to witness someone go sprawling. Dropping your bag, you rush over towards him, luckily moving and wincing as he slowly shuffles to his knees and groans. “Hold on, hold on, let me look.” You drop to your knees and start to try to get a look at the cut on the man’s forehead.

Marcus groans, trying to get his bearings and he looks up at you with glassy eyes, taking a few moments to recognize you as his neighbor that moved in a few months ago. “God, you’re beautiful.” He murmurs, still lost in the confusion of tripping over combined with his lack of sleep.

“You did hit your head hard.” You joke, looking into his confused brown eyes. He’s sweet, and very handsome, despite the blood that is running down his forehead. You introduce yourself and tut, reaching into your pocket to pull out a pack of Kleenex you carry. “We should get this cleaned up, I’m a nurse- well, I will be one when I get done with my training.”

“I should get to hospital and I-” He stumbles as he stands up, clinging to the bannister. 

“I can help clean you up.” You tell him and Marcus bites his lip, eager to avoid the trip to ER. 

“Okay.” He nods and you guide him to his apartment, helping him when he fumbles to get his keys out of his pocket. 

You help him inside and sit him down on his sofa. “Stay here. I’ll go get my kit.” You tell him and he nods, wincing but slumping against his sofa.

You rush back into your apartment, excited and nervous to treat your first ‘patient’ even though it’s something relatively minor. You’ve already checked for concussion, but you’ll check again. When you’ve pulled out your extensive first aid kit, you walk back to his door and knock on it before pushing it open. “Knock knock, you’re nurse is here.”

Marcus looks up, wincing at how quickly his head moved and he feels like an idiot for tripping up on the stairs. He watches you come and set your kit down on his coffee table and he blushes when you lean in towards him to start cleaning the cut. “Will I survive?” He jokes softly, admiring you as you concentrate.

“It might be touch and go, but I think you’ll survive.” You hum, looking away from what you are doing to smile at him. Telling yourself that you’re not flirting, you’re practicing your bedside manner. “You seem like you’re very coordinated normally, when I see you running out of your apartment in the mornings. Everything okay?” You see that his eyes are bloodshot, he’s obviously tired since you don’t smell any booze on him and he doesn’t appear to have any drugs in his system.

Marcus goes to nod but stops himself because of your hand on his forehead. “Yeah. Just exhausted. Work was a shit show. I haven’t slept for - shit - for like 48 hours.” He sighs, knowing he needs to take a few hours and head back into work. “I- you were heading out?” He remembers, wincing when you clean the cut.

“I was, and you need to sleep.” You tut, dabbing at the cut. “Good news is that you don’t need stitches, but just barely.” You hum, reaching for the antibiotic ointment and the butterfly bandages. “I’ll get you cleaned up and since you don’t have a concussion, I’ll give you some painkillers and then tuck you into bed.”

“God you’re the prettiest nurse I’ve ever had. So - God, I was lucky you were there.” He murmurs as you finish cleaning him up. His head is throbbing now, from the wound or the exhaustion he doesn’t know and he watches you fluster. “Sorry. I- you’ve helped me and I just can’t stop my mouth from blurting out the first thought in my head.”

“It’s okay.” You assure him, giving him a smile and patting his knee gently before you lean back and turn to your bag so you can get him some aspirin. “You seem sweet and for my first patient, you’re very cute.” You flirt, wanting him to feel good.

“Do you want to have dinner?” Marcus asks, flushing when his brain catches up. “I mean…I want to say thank you for helping me. You’ve saved me an expensive ER bill. Least I could do is make you dinner. Just you know, as neighbors.” He adds, not wanting you to feel pressured or awkward.

You grin, shaking out several aspirin into your hand and offering them to Marcus. “That sounds good.” You admit shyly. “As long as you go right to bed and sleep for at least eight hours.” You instruct seriously. “If you don’t feel like you are up to it, you can text me and cancel.” You grab a notepad and a pen out of your kit and quickly jot down your cell for him.

Marcus knows he won’t be asleep too long. He needs to go back to work before he grocery shops but he pretends to take your advice. “Shall we say 7:30? Do you get out of school? Or work?” He asks, suddenly nervous about tonight but he reminds himself this is just as friends. He swallows the aspirin after you get him some water and he takes the piece of paper.

“I get out around 6 so that’s perfect.” You nod. “I’m in school.” It’s easier to just say that right now rather than explaining you worked to save up for school and keep a budget that should carry you through nursing school. “Can I bring anything?” You ask, feeling slightly giddy about a simple dinner.

“No. No. Just yourself.” Marcus insists then downs the rest of the water. “I better get some sleep.” He stands up, swaying slightly, and he reaches for his tie, tossing it down as he shrugs off his jacket. He just wants to get into his bed, pass out and then wake up to plan dinner. “I’ll let you go. I can get into bed.” He promises, kicking off his shoes.

“Okay.” You watch him for a moment, struck by how cute your neighbor is and then you shake your head at yourself. He needs rest and you need to get out of his hair to do it. “I’ll let you get some sleep Marcus.” During his rambling, he had told you his name, but you hadn’t mentioned that he was still wearing his FBI badge with his name and picture on it. “Sleep well.”

****

Passing out in bed, Marcus sleeps for four hours and forces himself to wake up, getting in the shower to get ready to go back into the office. His head hurts but he takes some Tylenol and has a bagel, feeling better and ready to go back into work then go grocery shopping.

For your own part, you had a lot to tell the other girls and the one guy that was in your nursing class. Happy that you had been able to help, which was why you were becoming a nurse to begin with, and snagging a date with a cute guy. When class was over, you had rushed home to shower and pick out something cute yet casual to wear for dinner.

Marcus has a bottle of wine in the fridge, the pasta is boiling and sauce is simmering. He’s not the best cook but he’s pretty proud of the dishes he can cook. When the doorbell rings, he makes his way to the door, dressed in jeans and a button down, he tries to make this casual. This is not a date, it’s a thank you. He opens the door, smiling when he sees you in jeans and a blouse, and God, you’re just as pretty as he remembers. “Hey.” He offers you, feeling a little bashful now.

"Hey." You groan at the smell that is coming out of the apartment. "It smells absolutely amazing in here and I'm going to be in for a treat." 

Marcus is pleased it smells good and he guides you into his home. “You want a glass of wine? I have white but if you want red I can open that. Or if you want rosé, I have that too. Or Prosecco. I can open that.” He rambles, aware that he’s nervous and that’s fully on display.

You give a small laugh, reaching out and touching his arm. “It sounds like you have a great wine selection, but a glass of white wine sounds amazing.” You tilt your head and check for any additional signs of concussion. “As long as you have one with me if you're feeling up to it?”

Marcus nods, “I’m feeling fine now. I had a good nurse.” He winks and makes his way to his fridge to grab the bottle of wine, easily pouring two glasses and handing yours out until you take it. “To my savior.” He jokes, offering a toast as you hold your glass.

“To good timing.” You offer in return, tapping your glass lightly against his. “It made for a good story today in class. How I got my first patient and it was my handsome next door neighbor.” You figure since you already know that he thinks you’re pretty, there’s harm in letting him know the same.

Marcus blushes a little, sipping some wine, and he sets the glass down to continue working on dinner. “Shit. I didn’t ask if you’re allergic to anything.” He curses himself, knowing he should’ve checked. “I’m making chicken Alfredo.” He tells you, hoping you like that and don’t have any problems with it. If not, he can rustle something else up.

“That sounds perfect to me.” Marcus really is a sweet, considerate man. His relief is written on his face and it’s nice to have someone actually care about small details like that for once. “So, Marcus, what are you doing when you aren’t going 48 hours without sleep?” You ask, knowing that he’s in the FBI, but you assume they have different jobs other than just being scary g-men.

Marcus chuckles, “I work a lot but I like to read. Watch TV. Try to work out and go running. Normal stuff. I, uh, I like going to the farmers market on a Sunday.” He confesses, knowing he likes watching the happy couples walk by while he wallows in his singleness.

You raise a brow in surprise. Most men would talk about the sports bars they go to or the dating apps they are on. “All of that sounds great.” You admit, watching as he moves around his kitchen with the ease of someone who is used to cooking this. It’s not a performance simply to impress you. “I didn’t hear about dating in there, though. I’m assuming that there’s not a girlfriend or wife in another city?” You hadn’t seen any women come and go. “Or maybe boyfriend or husband?” You add, not wanting to assume just because he said you were beautiful.

Marcus snorts, unable to stop himself. “I- I have firmly decided against dating for the time being. I had a difficult situation when I moved to D.C. It’s a long story but I was engaged to a coworker, she - she called the engagement off to be with her partner and I have kind of wanted to focus on myself and get settled before I venture back out there.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” The idea that this might be a date dies a swift and disappointing death. You give him a small smile and nod. “Working on yourself is never a bad thing. It’s always good to know yourself better before involving someone else.”

“I really was ready to marry her, I was even ready to give up having kids, she didn’t want them. I- I don’t think I want kids anymore or to get married. It’s so complicated.” He’s been burned too many times. His ex wife had done a number on him. “Anyway, what about you? Am I dragging you away from a partner?” He asks, suddenly wanting to change the subject.

Your heart breaks for him, although you understand that after something painful, his viewpoints on everything might shift. “No.” You shrug and give him a painful look of commiseration. “Painfully single for the past…three years?” You nod. “Yeah. Three years. I’ve been busy working my ass off so I could afford to go to nursing school without having to work full time too. No time to do the song and dance and no desire to put up with the dating app bullshit.”

“I fucking hate dating apps.” Marcus confesses, stirring the pasta into the sauce after draining the water. “I can understand you being busy. What made you want to be a nurse?” He asks, shifting to serve the food in to awaiting dinner bowls on the side.

You laugh at the face he makes when he mentions dating, mirroring your feelings exactly. “Well, I always liked the idea of helping people. Like this morning. But honestly? I couldn’t really find anything else that held my attention longer than a semester or two.”

Marcus carries the dishes over to the table, setting them down and he heads back to the kitchen to grab the garlic bread. “Sit down.” He insists, “I remember when I was in school…I hated it.” He admits, setting the bread down, “I just wanted to get out into the world and make a difference.”

“I feel like that too sometimes.” You admit, reaching over and grabbing Marcus’s wine glass to bring over as you walk to the table. “But there is so much that goes into nursing that I can’t just jump into it. But I’m almost done.”

“You’ll be a good nurse. I can tell.” He winks at you and sits down, picking up the wine glass you just set down. “To impromptu hallway ERs.” He jokes at you and clinks his glass against yours.

“I am happy that my first patient was as nice as you.” You admit after taking a sip of the delicious white wine. “I’m assuming not every one of them will invite me over to their house for a homemade dinner to say thank you.” You set down the wine and pick up your fork. “If it tastes half as good as it smells, I am in for a treat.”

Marcus flushes slightly, not used to cooking for anyone but himself. “I hope it tastes good too.” He says and sets his wine down to start eating. He watches you eagerly as you take your first bite, watching for any micro expressions that tell him you don’t like it. He tries to not ask how it is, biting his lip to smother the question.

It takes you a moment. That slight pause where you just absorb the flavors of the meal before you react. Groaning, your eyes slip closed with a small smile on your lips as you chew. “Oh my God.” You cover your mouth with your hand to make sure you don’t show any food. “I need this recipe for Alfredo, Marcus. It’s amazing.” 

To say he’s pleased is an understatement. He beams, ducking his head shyly as you praise him, and he offers you a bashful smile. “I’m glad you like it. I can give you the recipe. I got it online.” He tells you, offering you some garlic bread that he knocked up. He’s so happy you like it, eager to thank you for helping him out earlier.

“God, I can’t. You shouldn’t be this hot and a good cook.” You huff playfully, enjoying the way that the heat starts to creep up his neck. You imagine that if you were to try to feel his skin, it would be very warm. “It’s unfair. That’s what it is.”

Marcus snorts, knowing you’re just flattering him since he invited you to dinner. “Not unfair. I’m complicated. Got too many issues. Plus I leave my socks on the floor. Hairs in the sink.” He jokes, shaking his head as he twirls the fettuccine around the fork.

“Yep, socks, that has to be the deal breaker.” You joke back, grinning at him. You can tell he has a hard time accepting compliments. “Maybe it’s complicated because you have an intense job?” You offer. “I noticed your badge this morning. I bet there’s a lot of times things at work pop up and some women are idiots to let minor things get between them and a good man.”

Marcus sighs, setting his fork down, “sometimes. I mean, my ex was a coworker so she understood. She would rush off too for different ops. My ex wife…she hated it. Thought I was having an affair and making up the ops. Got to be too much and she wanted a divorce. Shit, I’m just spilling all my baggage. What about you? Why’s a beautiful woman like you single?” He counters, picking up his fork again.

“Scheduling.” You tell him with an ironic grin on your face. “Men don’t like to be told that they need to wait for sex because I have to work. Or study. Or sleep. So…” You shrug and fork up another bite of your dinner. “Just me and Bob most nights.”

“Bob.” Marcus chuckles, familiar with the term. “You deserve better than that, sweetheart. Too many people are caught up in media, wanting the perfect person to love them but we are all flawed. You should love someone, including their flaws. I- I’m a huge romantic. Love Actually is my favorite movie.” He confesses bashfully.

“Uh huh.” You nod and finish your bite before you lift your glass of wine. “I love that movie but I have one point that might get me kicked out.” You take a sip and grin. “The Walking Dead guy? His character was dead wrong. He ruined their wedding photos and the creepy board thing was way out of line. He expected her to keep this secret from her husband, he’s best mate.”

Marcus snorts, nodding his head, “you are right. Super creepy and over the line. My ex…her partner…he was in love with her and did everything he could to break us up. Succeeded in the end but gave me similar vibes to that character. I think that movie definitely shows the errors of love. How people make mistakes and sometimes it’s good, sometimes it’s bad. Things happen for a reason. I’m convinced about that. I just - I’m not ready to throw my hat back in the ring.”

“God.” You stare at him for a moment, unsure if he realizes how perfect he sounds. “You definitely don’t deserve to be alone.” You huff, shaking your head. “Or at least have a fuck buddy who appreciates what you bring to the table.”

“Which is?” He snorts, “I don’t have anything to give. I work all the hours I have to and barely have enough time to work out so I’m not in the best shape of my life. I am - I am a desperate romantic and I get inside my head. I need something with no strings attached at all. And that’s hard for me, I’m not emotionless. I like emotions and I want to know someone before I take them to bed.

You might be about to embarrass yourself, make a huge fool of yourself and make your handsome neighbor avoid you like the plague, but no prizes are won unless you shoot your shot. “So fuck me.” You offer. “We’re both busy, single. We live next door to each other and think the other is attractive.” You pose, arching your eyebrow at him. “I’ll give you no strings attached and you’ll let me give my vibrator a break.”

Marcus nearly chokes on his food at your suggestion but then he thinks about it. It’s not silly, it’s smart. You’re a gorgeous woman and he is interested in you. Undoubtedly, he would never turn you away from his bed. You’re his next door neighbor though and he doesn’t want things to get messy in lieu of short term gratification. “Are you- no strings attached? You won’t be upset if I don’t buy you flowers or take you on a date?”

You snort and shake your head. “Flowers die, I appreciate the thought behind them, but I’d rather have orgasms.” You admit with a grin. “If you aren’t interested, it’s okay. No harm, no foul. We pretend like I didn’t say anything, we finish this dinner and go about our evenings alone.” You tell him. “If you are interested, well…..” you smirk and shrug. “We finish dinner and see how we feel after we get the first awkward fuck out of the way.”

His heart pounds in his chest and he hesitates but not because he doesn’t want you. He just doesn’t do this sort of thing, never has. Even in college his friends would make fun of him for not fucking a different girl every night. Maybe it’s his romanticism. “Let’s finish dinner and sit on the couch. See how things go. I want you, I’d be blind to not want you. You’re gorgeous. Let’s eat and then I…I wouldn’t mind my dessert being you.” He says with a smirk despite his flushed cheeks

Smirking slightly, you nod and fork up another bite. “Yes sir.” You tease, knowing that this is crazy but your neighbor is handsome and it’s been a long time since you’ve had a good man in your bed. Even if it’s just fucking, you know he won’t treat you like an object.

Dinner is enjoyed but rushed, Marcus scrambling to put the plates in the dishwasher and you stand up to help him.  He hates when things dry in the pan so you offer to help him and he accepts. “Sorry. Not exactly foreplay.” He jokes as he loads the dishwasher. He knows he wouldn’t be able to concentrate without the dishwasher being on and the kitchen being clean. 

You shrug, drying off the pot, “I’ve had worse.” You confess. 

Marcus shakes his head, “I’m an idiot.” He admits, starting the dishwasher just as you’re about to wash another pan. He grabs it from you, setting it down and he pushes you back against the counter. Inhaling deeply, he leans closer to you, not kissing you yet. His dark eyes on you and he leans in to run his nose along your jaw, enjoying your perfume. “It’s been a while.” He admits, pulling back to look into your eyes, “are you sure you want this?” 

You nod, dumbstruck by how handsome he is. “Words, baby girl.” He orders, and you swallow harshly, “yes.” That word sets a fire off in Marcus’s belly and he leans in to press his lips to yours, his hands grabbing your hips.

It’s surprising how passionate the kiss is. You can feel the built up tension behind it, repressed sexual need and want pouring out. Moaning slightly, you open your mouth and heat pools in core when he deepens the kiss. Sliding his tongue into your mouth and groaning into you. Your own hands slide up his back before you start to push up under his shirt, wanting to feel his warm skin under your fingers.

Marcus groans when your nails scratch his lower back and his hands slide along your waist, squeezing your breasts through your shirt until he can pull it over your head, exposing your bra. He leans in to kiss you again, tongue sliding against yours and he moves to kiss along your jaw and down your neck, trying to not suck too hard on your skin.

You tilt your head, letting him kiss along your throat and the thrilling sensation of arousal takes over. “I’m clean.” You hum, knowing that you should be demanding a condom, you know the statistics on STDs but you want to feel him. It’s been so long. “I- fuck, I’m on the pill.” You moan when his hands quickly unclip your bra and cup your tits. “Y-you?” 

Marcus leans back so he can look you in the eyes, “I’m clean. Got tested a few weeks ago for my quarterly health check at work. I haven’t been with anyone in a while. I, uh, can show you if you want.” He offers but you chuckle, shaking your head. You highly doubt Marcus would lie about that to you. 

“I believe you. I want to feel you. All of you.” You declare and reach out to squeeze him through his pants. 

“Shit.” He hisses, trying to not buck into your touch and instead, he focuses on you. Leaning in, he kisses along your chest until he takes a nipple into his mouth, sucking and licking while he enjoys your cries of pleasure.

You’re going to fuck this man right here in his kitchen unless you move somewhere else. Gasping out, you clutch his head to your chest and moan when he bites down gently before soothing the ache with his tongue. “Fuck- bedroom?” You ask, not certain if he would want to go that far. For all you know, he might just want to bend you over the table. 

The guilt settles as he realizes he should’ve taken you to bed. He’s not being a gentleman despite the fact that you’re about to have casual sex, you deserve to be treated properly. “Bedroom.” He confirms, pulling back from you and taking your hand so he can guide you through his apartment to the bedroom he keeps clean and tidy. 

Turning back towards you, he works on unbuttoning his shirt, fingers fumbling slightly until you take over. “Thanks.” He murmurs, enjoying the brushes of your fingers on every inch of skin you expose. His hands grab your ass, pulling you up against him when you have the shirt off of his shoulders and he relishes in the feel of your breasts against his skin. “God, you’re beautiful.” He echoes his earlier sentiment, still meaning it while he leans in to kiss you again.

This kiss is slower, more seductive and you can tell that this man is one who likes to please a partner. Except, you don’t want to be soft or gentle. You don’t need seduction, you need sex. Reaching down, you fumble with the button on his jeans and pull his zipper down, reaching into his pants to cup his cock. “Marcus, I need you to strip down.” you pant, wanting to feel him inside you and squeeze him. 

His groan is wrecked already when you squeeze him through his pants. Marcus can’t deny you anything, that has become clear, and he agrees, shifting to push his pants down. “Fuck baby, take - take your pants off.” He begs, wanting to see all of you. He kicks his pants aside, nearly stumbling while he takes off his socks.

It makes you giggle, watching him hop around even as you start peeling your own jeans down and shucking them. Going ahead and taking your panties off too, thankful you had showered and shaved before you had come over. Although you hadn’t anticipated sleeping with Marcus when you had done so. Standing in front of him naked, you let him look. “Do you want me to ride you or do you want to be on top?” 

Marcus cups your cheeks, bringing your eyes to focus on him. “How do you want me?” He asks, wanting you to decide this first time. “Ride me? Me on top? Me behind you? You tell me what you need.” He demands softly, wanting to please you.

“Fuck.” It’s been a long time since someone’s asked you how you want to take them. Your cunt clenches and you know that you’re already wet enough to take him. Glancing down at his cock, you hum. “I want to ride you.” You decide, knowing that he would want to play with your tits and kiss you while you bounce on his cock. 

Marcus’s cock twitches at the thought and he walks over to his bed, laying down on it and he pats his chest. “First you’re gonna ride my face. Want you to be wet enough to take me.” He orders, “come on. I want to taste you.”

You smirk, shaking your head as he looks up at you. Kneeling on the bed and straddling his waist, you don’t move closer. “No, I want to feel the stretch.” You reach down and wrap your fingers around his cock and start pumping him. “Feel the burn of your cock while I’m in class and know you fucked me.” 

“Fuckkkk.” Marcus hisses, his hands sliding along your waist until he can cup your tits, eagerly squeezing them and rolling your nipples between his fingers. “You’re a dirty girl. I love that.” He admits, loving how you’re not afraid to voice your fantasies, your desires. “Take what you want, sweetheart.” He demands, trying not to buck into your hand.

You enjoy the respect, shuffling up and lifting your hips up so you can place him at your dripping entrance. This man who you technically met this morning is now inside you when you lower yourself down onto his cock. Moaning at how he is stretching you out and not regretting a second of it. Closing your eyes against the thick stretch of him and enjoying how breathless he sounds underneath you. 

“Jesus Christ.” Marcus hisses, watching his cock disappear inside of you and he swears he’s died and gone to heaven. “Holy - you feel amazing, baby.” He groans, fingers caressing your hips as he patiently waits for you to adjust to him and get ready to move. His hands slide up your body to your tits and down to your ass, not able to get enough of you.

“Knew- knew you would want to touch.” You crow smugly, starting to grind your hips slowly before you lift off his cock and sink back down again with a moan. Leaning forward, you press your lips to his and gasp at the angle when he presses up against something wonderful inside you when he’s buried deep. “Fuck.” 

When your walls flutter around him, his hands find your ass and he squeezes, unable to stop himself from smacking your cheek. You gasp into his mouth and he smiles, enjoying your shock. He repeats the action and you rock back onto him, keeping that same angle. “So good.” He murmurs against your lips, “you feel so good.”

You pant in agreement, your hips starting to roll faster, chasing that sizzling spark of pleasure every time he hits deep. It’s been a long time since you’ve fucked someone and had it feel this good. “Fuck it’s so good.” You whimper, holding onto his shoulders and kissing him while you rock on his cock. 

Marcus shifts, sitting up so he can get closer to you, and he grabs your ass to haul you closer. You are now cross legged around him and he uses his new position to thrust up into you, his lips wrapped around your nipple. “Want to feel you cum for me. I- I won’t last long this time.” He informs you with panted breaths, not wanting you to walk away from this without an orgasm at least.

Reaching down between you, you start rubbing your clit. You know that he will feel guilty if you don’t cum and this will help. “Fuck.” You whine, body jerking up on a particularly rough thrust and your clench around him. “Like that.” You beg. “Ke-keep doing that and I’ll cum.” 

He wants to rub your clit but you know your body best. He wants to learn every little thing that makes you tick. The tricks to making you cum and he will, just not tonight. When you’re here next, he will go down on you and make you moan his name. Find out all your sensitive areas. For now, he follows your orders and thrusts up into you, keeping his hips angled the same way so you can seek your pleasure from his cock.

It only takes another three harsh thrusts and your cumming. Fingers pulling away from your clit as you squeal out his name, walls clamping down around his cock in pleasure. “Fuck! Marcus!” You cry out, body twitching backwards and you would fall back if he wasn’t holding you close as he rocks his hips up. 

“Fuckkkkk. Oh fuck. That was - that was hot as hell. Can I cum inside of you, please baby?” He asks, wanting you to be sure and when you nod, he wraps his arms around you. Dragging you into his chest, he thrusts up into you three more times until his cock twitches. Painting your walls with hot cum, he groans into your neck and clings to you.

Both of you cling to each other for a few moments, enjoying the afterglow of your pleasure before you pull back and tenderly kiss his lips a few times. “That was amazing.” You mumble happily, slightly hazy from your orgasm. “Gonna sleep like a baby tonight.” 

“Me too.” Marcus snorts, kissing your jaw. “We gotta do that again.” He declares, eager to see how else he can make you cum. “And again. And again. And again.” He says between kisses along your neck and you giggle, running your fingers through his hair. He rolls you into your back and pulls out of you, groaning at the sight of his cum pooling at your entrance. “Oh that’s pretty.” He coos, sliding his fingers through your folds.

“Someone has a cum play thing.” You hum playfully, your fingers tangling into his hair to play with it. You don’t mind at all, you’re protected and this is fun. You’re more relaxed than you’ve been in months and it’s all due to him. “God, how do you feel?” You ask. “No regrets?”

Marcus can’t deny that. He likes to see his cum pooling in his lover's cunt. Part of him admits that it’s a breeding link but he wouldn’t tell his partner that. Not wanting to make them feel awkward. He smiles at you, pulling his fingers away and shamelessly licking them clean. “No regrets. That was amazing. I loved it. I want - I want to keep doing it. Do you?”

It’s hot to watch a man lick his own cum from his fingers and it makes you moan softly. “Absolutely.” You agree with a quick nod. “So much better than Bob.” You tuck your arm behind your head and look down at him. “We can keep it casual. Just text if we need to release some steam or set up a schedule if it makes you more comfortable.” You don’t particularly like planned out sex on a schedule but it’s not just about you.

“We can text.” He decides, not wanting you to feel like you need to fuck him every Wednesday evening. That feels too mechanical. “Casual and fun. If either one of us isn’t feeling it anymore, we talk. No bullshit ignoring each other. We are adults having fun.” Marcus pecks your lips, “I’ll get you some water.”

“Perfect.” You smile as he walks out of the room before you climb out of the bed to snatch your panties off the floor. Your shirt and bra are in the kitchen so you can’t put those on, but you can start getting dressed again. Since you’re done having sex, you don’t want to make things awkward by overstaying your welcome. By the time Marcus comes back, you are zipping up your jeans. “Thanks.” You smile when you see the bottle in his hand. “Did you get yourself some water or do you want to split this?” 

“No, I'm good. It’s all yours, baby.” He promises, kissing your forehead and he walks back into the kitchen to grab the rest of your clothes after pulling on his boxers. Usually, he’d be asking if you want to stay for a movie but it’s clear that this is just sex and he will respect that. He has to come to terms with the fact that this is casual. He can’t let his romantic heart ruin a good thing.

Once all your clothes are back in place, you walk over to Marcus and kiss him gently. “I had a great time tonight.” You murmur, giving him a wink when you pull back. “Now I’m going to pass out and sleep like the dead until I have to get up.” You pat his chest gently. “You should do the same. I know you didn’t sleep for eight hours.” 

Marcus chuckles, grabbing your hand to place a kiss on the back of it. “Come on sleeping beauty, let’s get you home.” He tangles his fingers with yours and walks you to his front door. “I had a great time.” He murmurs and you nod, “me too.” He opens his door, checking the coast is clear, “I’ll see you around, sweetheart.” He promises and you step into the hall, crossing it to your front door. “Goodnight Marcus.” You tell him after you unlock your front door. “Night.” He offers you a little wave and waits until you’re inside before he steps back into his own apartment. With a smile on his face, he gets ready for bed. What a wild day.

****

“Fuck,” Whimpering, you curl your hands around the blanket under you, trying not to reach up and hold onto him while he moves over you. Rocking into you with hard, deep thrusts as his jaw clenches. Stretching your neck out, you kiss along his jaw, shuffling your legs higher on his thighs and smirk when he groans. Your walls had clenched around him, something you know drives him wild and he twitches harshly. 

“Jesus Christ, sweetheart. That - shit - you feel so good. So fucking good.” He groans and turns his head to press his lips to yours. Two months you’ve been in his bed and every fucking time feels as good as the first. He shifts his hips, trying to find that angle you like and grins when you cry out beneath him. He knows your body as good as his own and he uses that to his advantage to make you cum.

“Marcus.” You close your eyes and moan his name again, loving how he always wants you to cum. He’s a fucking generous lover and the times where it’s just not possible for you to orgasm, he still makes you feel like you’ve had a great time. Sometimes it just won’t happen. “Fuck baby.” You whimper, getting closer to cumming with every harsh thrust. 

Marcus can tell you’re close. Loving the whimpers escaping your lips and he reaches between you to rub your clit. “You gonna cum for me, sweetheart?” He asks, leaning in to kiss your jaw. His hips continue to keep the same steady pace despite his balls threatening to pull tight. He needs you to cum first.

The pressure of his fingers and the way his cock spears against your g-spot sends you over the edge. Crying out and clenching down around him as a wave of pleasure rushes over you. Soaking him in a hot rush of cum and making his thrusts sound so wet. 

Working you through it, he focuses on his own pleasure. Picking up the pace, he hisses your name and starts to thrust harder and deeper. Grabbing your thighs, he pushes them back towards your chest so he can sink his cock deeper inside of you. “Fuck baby. I’m gonna - you’re gonna make me-” He pants and groans, pushing his cock deep inside of you to spill his cum.

You love the moment Marcus cums. The furrowed brow relaxes and his entire body follows suit. Melting into you while he throbs deep, filling you up. The heat from his cum always satisfying and you sigh softly, your hands finally reaching up and stroking his sweaty back. “So good.” You hum softly, kissing him again as he lets go of your legs to let them drop back down over his thighs. 

Marcus takes a few moments then pulls out of you, kissing along your neck and he grunts when he stands, reaching for the wipes he now keeps on his nightstand to clean you up. “You want something to eat?” He asks, pulling on his boxers after he tosses the wipes.

“I shouldn’t.” You sit up and sigh. “I have a ton of studying to do when I go home, but I know you will argue that I won’t eat if I don’t eat here.” It’s a part of him that you adore. Even though this is casual, Marcus is still a man who likes to take care of people and it shows. “So, yeah.” You nod and reach for your shirt. “I’ll eat with you.” 

“Good. You want breakfast for dinner? I have bacon. Pancakes. Eggs?” He asks and you nod. “Take your time here. I’ll go start the food.” He bends over to peck your lips and makes his way into the kitchen after grabbing his t-shirt. He knows this is dangerously overstepping from “friends with benefits” but he wants to take care of you. The lines are blurring and that terrifies him but there’s nothing he can do except go with the flow. Not if he wants to keep you in his life.

You jump into his shower, cleaning up even more than the wipes. You know Marcus won’t mind, he’s told you to clean up however you need to since he cums inside you every time. Redressing, you make your way out to the kitchen, smiling at the domestic scene as Marcus makes you pancakes. “So how is work going?” You ask, sitting at the stool at the bar and watching him. 

“Good. Been crazy. We have this case…a famous piece of art was stolen from a senator's house and no one knows how it was taken. No camera footage has been altered. No one in or out. It’s bizarre.” He admits, sliding a pancake onto your plate while he turns back to the eggs and bacon.

Humming, you shake your head, amazed at the things that Marcus gets to see and the people that he gets to meet. “Fun.” You reach over and grab his water bottle and twist the cap off to steal a drink. “Betcha it’s an insurance grab.” You tell him. “They are always trying to pull shady shit.” Marcus hums, and you grin - knowing he’s not going to tell you anything about an active investigation. “We are about to work on ultrasounds this week.” You are excited about that. “Should be interesting. Getting to see organs on the inside.” 

“Oh that’s cool. My girl is getting so close to being a nurse.” He winks at you, turning back to the stove and you stare at his back. He called you his girl. Marcus meanwhile, is cursing himself for letting that slip. He’s crossing boundaries and he knows you don’t want more than just fuck buddies. Neither does he. It’s less complicated, he’s less likely to get hurt.

It’s awkward for a few moments, the silence settling between you before you clear your throat. “So, I am probably going to be dead after the test coming up next week.” You inform him. “It’s going to be days of studying so I don’t flunk out. Don’t be surprised if I come beating on your door at 2AM, needing to cum. On the weekend of course.” You add, never wanting to interrupt his work schedule because of your needs. 

“You can knock on my door whenever you want.” He reminds you, “I’ll make you cum whenever you want.” He winks and slides the eggs onto your plate. “Just make sure you do well on your exams. Then maybe I’ll reward you.” He winks at you, already thinking about buying you something nice. He knows it might overstep but you deserve it after working so hard.

You chuckle quietly and wonder how he would reward you. “Hmm, then I’ll make sure to study extra hard.” You promise, groaning at the smell of the food and you take another drink of your water. It’s easy with Marcus and you know that you should probably end things, because you are getting too deep but you don’t want to. It’s fun and you really like him. 

Marcus smiles, taking a seat at the kitchen table and he watches you dig into the food he made. It would be so easy with you but he can’t risk it. He’s been hurt too many times and you are just starting your career. You’ll probably move away when you get a job offer, or find some hot doctor to date. “Better study hard then, baby.”

“When I do pass this fucking thing and get my degree, I am taking at least a month off from everything.” You tell him with a groan after you fork a bite of his pancakes up. He really does spoil you at times even though he doesn’t have to. “And I’m going to do nothing but walk around my apartment naked, sleeping, eating and hopefully fucking.” You wink at him and grin. 

“We can definitely accommodate that.” He winks, taking a bite of his pancakes and he is eager to have you pass this exam so he can celebrate with you. Maybe he can even take you to dinner. “Ultrasounds are first.” He reminds you, wanting you to know he remembers what said earlier.

“Ultrasounds first.” You agree, quickly finishing your dinner and it’s automatic to get up and help Marcus clean up the kitchen. He always grumbles that you don’t have to, but you would feel like you are taking advantage of him. You rinse off your plate and load it into the dishwasher before you lean against the counter. “I should probably go.” You hum, not wanting to but you know you need to. “Let you relax.” 

Marcus sighs, reluctant to let you go but he can’t just keep you here all the time. “Okay baby. I’ll see you later.” He pulls you close, pressing his lips to yours, and he smiles against your mouth when you peck his lips. “Good luck tomorrow.” He murmurs, guiding you over to the door and you quickly rush across the hall to your apartment. You offer him a soft “goodnight.” He winks and shuts his door, sighing to himself. He’s too deep and he’s gonna break his own heart.

****

“Once you spread the jelly across the surface, make sure you press the wand into the skin firmly.” Your instructor speaks out across the room, five different tables laid out with students stretched out on them with their shirts lifted up. You are on the first table since you want to see how it looks first. 

“Ohh it’s cold.” You always heard people say the jelly was cold but it’s freezing. “There has to be a warmer or something.” 

“We will make a note to the suppliers.” The instructor chuckles as she walks past, your fellow student sitting on the stool to press the wand into your skin. The instructor stands there, pointing out your organs until she stops talking, eyes wide. “There’s your womb.” She chokes out and your fellow student’s eyes widen. “And there’s your baby.” She chokes out and everyone scrambles to look at the screen, their gasps echoing in the room when they see the shape on the screen.

“What?” Your own eyes widen in disbelief, lurching up off the table and moving the wand away from your uterus for a second before your classmate brings it back and the baby reappears on the screen. “There’s no- it’s a trick right?” You ask breathlessly, confusion and terror, joy and absolute shock rushing through your entire body as you manage to tear your eyes away from the ultrasound to look at your instructor. Needing to see that she is playing a prank on you and will start laughing. “I can’t be preg-pregnant.” 

Your instructor bites her lip, “you might want to get a test to confirm but…it looks like you’re pregnant. Congratulations.” She offers softly, seeing the shock on your face and she reaches out to take your hand. “I know it’s scary but you can leave now. I won’t keep you here for the class. You can go home.”

She prints out a few pictures for you and you gather your things, almost in a daze. Shocked that you have a baby inside you. You know that birth control isn’t one hundred percent but you hadn’t had any issues with it before. You drive to the doctor on auto pilot, demanding to be seen right away. You need a blood test to confirm what you know to be true, but you need the test. 

**** 

Marcus is coming home when he sees you standing at his door. He frowns when he sees your face. “Hey baby. What’s wrong?” He asks, immediately walking up to you and he works on unlocking his front door. “Come in.” He orders, guiding you into his place and he sets his briefcase down to look at you. “What’s wrong?”

“I-” You shake your head, thoughts scattered and you’re not able to focus like you normally would. The blood test confirmed it, and from the scans, you know the approximate date of conception. It lines up with when you were with Marcus. It was a week that you only slept with him one time. “I need to talk to you.” You rub your hands on your pants and take a deep breath. “Marcus, I- I’m pregnant.” 

Marcus stares at you, searching your eyes, and he chuckles after a moment. “Haha. Very funny. What is this? Trying to make me have a heart attack?” He jokes and shakes his head. When you continue to stare at him, not laughing, he pauses and stares at you. “You- you’re - seriously?” He chokes out.

Your hands shake as you pull out the scans and the blood test that shows positive for pregnancy. “I was in my- my ultrasound class today and I- the instructor showed me.” You manage. “I- I’m so sorry, Marc. I’ve been taking my birth control. This is my fault. I’m just-” You break off, unsure of what to say while he takes the paperwork from your hand. 

Marcus stares at the scan and the results. He always imagined this moment to be joyous. To be in a committed relationship that he’s happy in and have a stable environment for his child to come into. He always imagined he would be crying with happiness at the prospect of being a father. Yet right now, he feels sick. He’s not ready to be a father. He doesn’t have the house or the dog or the yard. He’s not married. “I- I don’t know what to say.” He says honestly, frowning at you.

Six words seem to crush your soul. You had imagined that he would be surprised but ultimately happy. Or at least warmer. Instead he is frowning at you and that alone makes tears pool up in your eyes. “I- it’s okay.” You manage, wiping your eyes and nodding. “I just- I wanted to - to tell you. You don’t have to say anything.” 

Marcus doesn’t know what to say. He didn’t anticipate this and he needs to process. “I, uh, I need to - to process this.” He admits and hands you back the scan. He is terrified, scared to lose you since you clearly didn’t want to be in a relationship and neither did he. This was supposed to be fun, casual. “Have you…have you considered what you want to do?”

“I- I don’t know.” You admit quietly, tucking the scans back into your jacket and giving a small shrug of your shoulders. “I just - I guess I need to process too.” Process is code for not wanting to deal with it, you know that. He doesn’t want a pregnancy with a woman he was just casually sleeping with and by his reaction, that hasn’t changed. “I just wanted you to know.” You turn around and grab your bag. “I’ll go and let you….process.” 

He wants to drag you back and make you stay but he can’t. He needs to think about what he wants. You’re in school, you have your entire future ahead of you. He’s finally getting somewhere in his own work after having to prove himself. He’s been married, he’s been engaged. He’s done the right thing and both times he’d been burned. You aren’t like his exes. You are so different. You’re incredible. Smart, beautiful and you rock his world like no one else. He wants you but he can’t hold you back. You’ll hate him if he forces you into suburbia before you get the chance to live your life.

When you get back to your apartment, you just….deflate. Closing your door, you lean against it and let the hot tears that you had been holding back go. Rolling down your cheeks as the reality of your situation crashes over you. You’re pregnant. Not different than if it were by a one night stand. Marcus clearly isn't interested in raising a child and you don’t know if you want to take up the mantle of single motherhood. The other brochures in your pocket weigh it down, making you wonder if you shouldn’t schedule an appointment. 

Marcus doesn’t know how long he’s on the sofa just staring into space but he keeps running through different scenarios. Trying to figure out what he should do. If he was old fashioned, he would head over to your apartment and he would get down on one knee and propose to you, be there as a husband and a father. He doesn’t want to be insincere. You’d look straight through him if he did that. “Shit.” He rubs his cheek, knowing he needs to talk this through with you. He stands up, making his way over to his front door and he opens it, stepping into the hallway to knock on your door.

You lift your head off the sofa where you had been laying when you hear the knock on the door. You know it’s Marcus. It has to be. Making you wonder if he’s already come to some grand conclusion while you are still reeling from the news. Groaning, you get up off the couch and walk over to the door, opening it and leaning against it as you look at your neighbor. “Hey.” 

Marcus awkwardly stands there, tilting his head as he looks at you. “Can, uh, can I come in?” He asks and you nod, letting him walk inside. You are apprehensive and he clears his throat, realizing he’s never been inside of your place before. “You have a nice place.”

“Thanks.” You wonder why the small talk but you just decide to go with it. “Can I get you something to drink?” You don’t wait for an answer, turning on your heel and walking to the kitchen to grab some water for you and him. You can feel his eyes on your back but you don’t know why he is here, but you’re sure that it will be a serious talk. Opening the fridge, you grab two bottles and turn to set one on the counter in front of him where he had come to stand and open yours. 

Marcus takes the water and leans against the counter, looking at the pamphlets you have there. One for pregnancy symptoms and another for abortion. “Do you…are you considering it?” He asks, placing his finger on the brochure.

“I’ve made an appointment.” You admit, not meeting his eyes and looking around your apartment. “I- I figure I can cancel it or change my mind if -” You shrug your shoulders and swallow harshly. “I don’t know.” You’re slightly overwhelmed right now, unsure of what to do or how to feel.

Marcus hates the thought of you aborting the baby. He wants it. He realizes that now. He wants the baby and he wants you. “Is that what you want?” He chokes out, staring at you. He wants to know what you’re thinking, desperate to find out.

“No.” You shake your head and sigh. “But I don’t want to be a single mother. I just-” You close your eyes, more tears slipping down your cheeks. “I wish I didn’t fuck up. That I didn’t put you in this mess. You- you must hate me.” 

Shaking his head, Marcus moves fast to wrap his arms around you. “No. Baby, no. You - I could never hate you. I-” He pulls back so he can look into your watery eyes. “I love you. I’m in love with you. Shit, that should terrify me after all the shit I’ve been through but I love you. I want you. I want this baby.”

“You don’t have to say that.” You promise him, shaking your head. You know that he doesn’t want a baby or a relationship. He had told you that he had just wanted casual, that he wasn’t ready and it certainly wouldn’t be with someone who didn’t have their life together. “I promise you- you don’t have to-” You break off with a small sob, knowing you love him. 

“Please listen to me. Believe me. I was scared. I am scared. I’ve had my heart broken too many times and I - I wanted you to enjoy your career, your future without me dragging you back. I didn’t want to hold you back. I want you, fuck, you’re all I think about. I love you. Please believe that. I love you.” He pleads, wanting you to believe him. He needs you to believe him.

Closing your eyes, your chin trembles and you nod. “I- I fucked up.” You admit quietly. “I should have ended things a month ago.” You tell him. “When I knew I wanted more than just casual, but I promise, promise, that I didn’t mess with my birth control. I didn’t- I wouldn’t do that.” 

“No. No. I know you wouldn’t do that. I love you. I have for a while. I should’ve told you that a long time ago. Baby…do you- I want you to be my - my girlfriend. I want more. I want you.” He promises, suddenly terrified of losing you.

You give a tiny giggle at being asked to go steady when you are literally carrying his child, but you nod. “I’d like that.” You tell him gently. “Although no more wine when you feed me.” Your hand comes down to your stomach in awe, realizing that you are going to have to completely change your life around. “Since I’m pregnant.” 

Marcus’s hand covers yours, swallowing harshly, and he is terrified but so excited. “You’re pregnant.” He declares in awe, leaning in to kiss you. “I love you. I mean It, I loved you before I found out and the baby. I’ve been a scared prick but I won’t be scared anymore. I’m ready for this”

“If you aren’t…that would be okay.” You offer, knowing that this is just being sprung on him. You know it takes two to tango, but you had also taken the responsibility of birth control on when you had let him cum inside you. “I don’t want to push you to take on anything you don’t think you can handle.” 

“I can handle it baby. It’s…it’s all I’ve ever wanted. I just gave up on that dream, having not found the right person but I’ve found her. I love you. Please don’t doubt that. Let me - let me be a father, a partner.”

You bite your lip, considering his words as you look into his pleading eyes. You can tell that he wants to pull you into his arms. Marcus is sweet and loving and you are lucky that he wants to love you and do this with you. “Okay.” You agree softly. “Although we have to figure out what we are going to do.” You both only have a one bedroom apartment, not needing as much space and now you need more. “But for now, I- we can worry about that later. I’m not having the baby tomorrow.” 

Marcus knows he will already start to plan moving forward. He will find a house for you both. He wants to take care of you and his child. “No, we have plenty of time. Have you eaten?” He asks, worried you haven’t eaten today after all the drama.

You can’t help but grin at him, loving how he always wants to feed you. It’s like providing food is his love language. “I haven’t had anything.” You admit quietly. “I was too unsettled to eat and haven’t really thought about it.” 

“You’re gonna come to mine, let me feed you, and I want you to stay in my bed tonight.” He orders softly, not wanting you to spend a single night away from him from now on. “I’m gonna take care of you baby.”

“You promise?” You ask softly, a smile on your face and lean in to kiss him gently. 

“I promise.” Marcus tells you solemnly. He might not have wanted anything more than casual, and he was right, he was lousy at it. His romantic heart had struck again and this time he had managed to find the perfect girl and discover that she loves him like he loves her along with having a baby on the way. Casual had quickly become serious and Marcus couldn’t be happier. 

[brotherwtf]

Hello! I love your firefighter John and Detective Gale AU. It's such a treat!

About your HC of John getting...excited whilst watching an interrogation. I am this close -> <- to sending you a fic request for it I stg.

But I can totally see it, on another case they work together. John's geta hurt (again but not serious) and refuses to go home/stop working. But he's only allowed to observe the interrogation and has to watch whilst Gale goes absolutely feral because someone had the audacity to hurt Bucky. 😂

Chaotic husbands, I love them.

omfg thank you so much!! this one really creeped up on me I have no idea why I've started to love it so much!!

I can totally see John just busting into the police precinct and some of Gales coworkers (namely Croz and Blakely probably) trying to stop John from running into the interrogation room himself and acting a fool, but John is so stubborn that he won't leave no matter how hard they try to kick him out.

so he and Croz stand behind the one way glass as they watch Gale interrogate their perp, the bastards not talking and John thinks that they're dead in the water and not gonna get a confession

until Gale stands up coolly and walks behind the perp, grabbing one of his shoulders and hissing into his ear what would happen if he didn't confess and basically just threatens him bcs he hurt John and hoo boy did it get hot in here all of a sudden? bcs John is starting to sweat just looking at him bro in his unbuttoned white shirt and perfectly pressed pants John is gonna need to sit down Jesus.

giggling to myself bcs Gale gets the confession and walks out of the interrogation room all suave and stuff and John literally yanks him into the evidence room bcs he can't keep it in his pants any longer bro is just so horny for Gale lmao

I honestly might make this into a full multi-chapter fic because there's so many shenanigans and scenarios these two could get into that I could probably write a whole goddamn book about them. God I love this au it's so silly and fun 🥹

[linka-from-captain-planet]

WIP I'll Probably Never Finish Wednesday

sometime in October, I posted a list of kinktober concepts I'd write if my brain weren't soup. I picked at a couple here and there, but none really went anywhere except "Neve and Rana once got sex pollened while working a case together and that's why they act so weird about each other." I wrote the fun part (the lead-up and Neve in full ಠ_ಠ dying mad mode over her lack of control over the situation) and don't feel like writing the boring part (actually banging) or adapting it to suit canon better (re: Brom and such; I wrote most of this pre-release) but I had fun writing it, so I'm posting what I have for funsies

Fun fact: one of Neve's codex entries about the wisps mentions they avoid her notes on "the Opal Rose case" for an unknown reason and I thought that sounded juicy, so I stole it for this fic

Somehow this managed to be a rambling and barely edited 2800 words and I would issue a warning about dubious consent because of the nature of the trope and Neve finding the arousal variably unwelcome, but there is no sex below the cut

The Opal Rose. Western fringe between Docktown and the lower market district. Well past midnight.

The reputation is good enough—but also bad enough that the rumors already seemed credible even before she began her investigation and found a few people willing to speak up. 

Unusually urgent arousal. Erratic behavior. Reckless spending, of course, in desperation to scratch the itch. Someone—something—has Docktown bewitched, and Neve is no prude, but who or whatever is taking advantage of her neighbors won’t get away with it.

Of course, she’s too well-recognized as a gumshoe to simply waltz in the front door; she wouldn’t make it past the bar before the perp wiped all the evidence. Fortunately, it wasn’t hard to track down a disgruntled former employee, who was more than happy to lead them to the back entrance of a back entrance in exchange for a little coin. 

Them, being herself and Templar Rana Savas.

She doesn’t quite buy that this place is harboring a desire demon, as the most dramatic version of the rumor holds… but she doesn’t quite not buy it, and in that case, it’d be risky for anyone to try and face it alone, let alone a mage. She needed backup, someone she could trust—and specifically, someone she could trust possessed enough self-control to resist enthrallment. 

Tightly wound as she is, as contained and orderly as her pristine braid, Rana fit the bill.

Rana left her heavy Templar plate in the barracks and instead donned her lighter—quieter—leather set; fortunately so, as the back passage of this place is so tight that her well-built shoulders already nearly scrape the walls, and she has to hold onto her sword to keep it from bouncing off her shapely ass and clattering against—

Neve stops short, abruptly aware of a sweet, heady humidity and an unnatural warmth wafting down the corridor.

Magic.

Suddenly close enough for Neve to smell the beeswax and mint of her lip balm, Rana leans in and whispers, “What’s wrong?” In the low red lamplight, the full apples of her cheeks are dusted in a far-too-pretty faux flush, and her lips look plump and rosy, as if freshly bitten and sucked by an eager lover.

Tearing herself away, Neve signals for Rana to be quiet so she can re-focus. With each step she guides them closer to the other end, the hallway only grows warmer and the air within it, more charged.

And, with each step, a small shock reverberates up Neve’s legs and settles between them, setting her lightly abuzz and her teeth on edge.

There have been few times in her life when Neve really resented being a mage, but she’ll surely chalk this up as one before it’s all over. Being attuned to the subtle thrum of magic in the air means she can feel it thrumming, all too well, while Rana remains oblivious and collected just an arm’s length away.

If there’s any luck left in her, they’ll finish soon. 

With the investigation. With luck, they’ll be finished soon, with the investigation.

Teeth grit, Neve continues to lead them forward. It’s hardly a minute before they come to a triple-padlocked door, but by the time they reach it, Neve is almost panting and definitely sweating underneath her ascot and coat.

Whatever this is, whatever’s doing this to her—it’s behind that door.

She nods at Rana, who in turn touches her gently on the waist—despite herself, Neve’s skin screams for the contact even through her thick layers—and guides her aside. She listens through the door for a few moments, then fishes a Templar skeleton key from her pocket. Enchanted to open any lock in Minrathous so long as it’s pursuant to orders, it makes quick work of it.

Rana then wraps one long-fingered, dextrous hand around the doorhandle, and the other around the hilt of her sword; her strong shoulder, she braces against the door, preparing to break through if need be. Neve blinks and readies her staff as well as she can with shaking fingers. But when the door swings in, the hardly-more-than-a-closet room is empty save for a workbench laden with jars, boxes, scales, and distillery equipment.

Alchemy, then.

“Love potions” may be the stuff of fairytale, but aphrodisiacs? Feel-good stuff that keeps the hips pumping and the inhibitions lowered far longer than the flesh—and purse—would ordinarily permit? Certainly not unheard of, and needless to say, an illegal use of magic. Neve knows no such brew offhand, but a handy sheet of paper pinned to the wall illuminates the simplicity of the scheme: the active ingredient is some kind of pollen that can be distilled into a spray. Spritz a bit into a room before the client enters, and it’s practically money in a bottle.

Neve would have preferred the demon. Now they’ll have to track down the suppliers, too.

At least they’ll probably be done here soon, and she’ll be able to abscond to her apartment and, well, blow off some steam.

Sighing, Neve steels her nerves and begins to look for a ledger while Rana barricades the door behind them.

The small room is stuffy and over-warm, far worse than the hallway with its proximity to the cookstation and lack of airflow. Dried bits of caked-on gunk on the workbench reveal the cook to be an amateur or at least a slob, and Neve internally curses their clumsy hand. Within minutes, her clothing comes to feel far too heavy and her skin, far too tight; she longs desperately to shed at least her outer layer and accessories, but she has more than a hunch that if she were to start to undress, it’d be difficult to stop at just one layer.

She resents Rana's freedom from the effect again; finished with the door, she joins Neve at the bench completely unawares, yet her close presence makes the effect even more pronounced. She reaches to examine the supplies, and Neve shivers and curses under her breath as a crystal-clear image of those sword-callused but meticulously-manicured hands gliding over her slick skin flashes across her mind’s eye.

It’s not—entirely new. It’s not that Rana isn’t attractive and Neve has never idly entertained the thought of them, well. But—she shakes her head, turning away, but catches another glimpse of Rana in the reflection of a glass flask, and her whole body shudders—there’s a big difference between checking someone out from time to time, and imagining one of their strong hands holding her down—she’d play at resisting, of course, but Rana is simply so much stronger—while the other—

As if on cue, Rana pulls a fist-sized drawstring pouch from a small chest and rolls it between her hands, hefting its fullness curiously before slipping two fingers into its tight velvet opening, stretching it wide open and—

Far too late, the alchemical symbol for volatile stamped all over the pouch registers through the haze in Neve’s mind. She doesn’t even have time to cover her mouth and nose before Rana, recoiling from the puff of fine pollen that surges out of the pouch and hits her in the face, drops it onto the bench with an ominous thunk and a white-hot, shimmering cloud overtakes the small room.

The wash of it is so intense that Neve reflexively touches her eyebrows and lashes to make sure they hadn’t been burnt off; to her relief, they’re intact, as is her skin even though it feels like it’s prickling with heat like a sunburn. 

But the heat is internal, and Neve swiftly realizes that she’s flushing intensely, and then the effects she’d already been bothered by slam over her like a wave: her skin tingles, her stomach flutters, her skin blooms over with sweat, her heart races…

And a pang of desire hits her like a brick to the gut, so hard it staggers her. 

She scrambles to catch the edge of the workbench to keep from crumpling to the floor, but a jittering hand grabs her by the elbow and steadies her first. Even through layers of leather and silk, the touch is searing; and even though it’s hardly an erogenous zone, the sheer pleasure of being touched at all when she needs so badly makes a humiliating squeak of a moan tumble through her lips before Neve can clap a hand over her mouth and stifle it.

Rana snatches her own hand back like she’d been bitten, the pupils of her wide eyes dilating so fast that they turn her cool green irises nearly black. She may not be brushed up on her alchemical symbols, but she at least seems to understand what she’s done; despite her deep flush—real this time, not a trick of light—she looks absolutely ashen, and scrambles away into the corner farthest as possible from Neve to hastily blow her nose into her sleeve and spit on the floor. 

That’s how Neve knows this job has really, truly gone shit-sideways. In anything even close to resembling her right mind, Templar Rana Savas would absolutely never. 

“It’s well into your system already, I’m afraid,” Neve warns through grit teeth, her grip on the bench white-knuckled. Nothing she’d gleaned from perusing the documentation strewn about indicates this stuff is harmful—nor would it make sense to maim the clientele, anyway—but, in its concentrated and unprocessed state… this experience is guaranteed to be unpleasant, to put it delicately, but precisely how or how much remains to be seen.

“Well, what else can we do?” Rana snaps over her shoulder, and Neve shudders as one explicit, tantalizing answer flashes across her mind immediately.

She should not entertain the thought—will only make it worse, surely—but. Standing just beyond her reach, Rana’s breathing is labored, rushing in and out of Neve’s ears just as it does her lungs, stretching her stiff leather jacket tight across her fit back. Neve can imagine the moment when even this trivial restriction becomes overwhelming, and could hardly blame Rana for clawing at it, her deft fingers working feverishly to free herself. Neve can’t actually see them with Rana’s back turned, but she can imagine them, and in turn, her cunt clenches so hard around nothing—empty, excruciating nothing—that it honest-to-the-Maker hurts.

It properly knocks the wind out of her, and for that Neve’s actually grateful, because it keeps her from even the remote possibility of opening her mouth to suggest…

Distress and arousal alike flood her system, raising her heart rate to a sickly, shallow race and filling her mind with static. With her every nerve peeled raw and her every sense aflame, Neve couldn’t miss the discontent rumble from the other side of the room, despite Rana’s apparent attempt to shrink enough to disappear. Neve risks the glance, and finds Rana nearly doubled-over, arms wrapped tightly around herself, her red face pressed against the cool block walls. Her attempts to cool off by removing her jacket, obviously, failed; she’s already sweated through her linen undershirt such that it clings to the muscles underneath and Neve can watch them roll, one by one, with her every breath and fidget.

Unable to bear it any longer—and besides, Rana started it (both, this mess—why did she have to fondle the damn bag!—and the undressing)—Neve finally lets herself whip off her fascinator, ascot, and leather gauntlets. Her overcoat, she wrenches open with such clumsy urgency that one of its studded buttons pops off and plinks across the floor, a tiny tinny sound that may as well have been a gaatlok explosion to her harried senses.

Rana’s nerves must be fried, too, or at least this situation hasn’t dampened her usual level of vigilance; she turns around briskly at the clatter, hand hovering over her sword, in just enough time to watch Neve also yank open her high collar and top buttons, exposing the slick column of her throat, the notch of her collarbone, and the hint of the swell of her breasts clinging to the plane of her chest.

Her stare is so intense that Neve can feel it needling her skin like a tattoo, following the exact path of a drop of sweat that meanders down from her throat to the underside of her breast with a hawk’s focus. Rana’s full lips lull open, panting; and then she grimaces, and her legs seem to tremble with the effort of holding herself up, or… perhaps. Back. 

It’s enough of a foothold for Neve’s overwhelming need to seize control, overriding her better judgment and shattering the remainder of her hope that she may escape this excursion with her dignity intact.

“Rana,” she breathes cautiously, her voice so thick with desire that she hardly recognizes herself. Perhaps that’s for the better. “We—,” she starts, and grimaces through another painful throb, this one even more urgent than the last, “—I think we can make this more… bearable.” 

“You can reverse it?” Rana asks, through great effort tearing her gaze off Neve’s tits to look her in the eye, her voice raspy but hopeful. She looks on the verge of collapse, leaning heavily into the wall. Fidgeting, seemingly desperate to do anything with her hands but what her own addled mind is undoubtedly suggesting, she pushes her sleeves up to the elbow, rubbing absently at her own skin. From the heat, or perhaps from how hard she’d been clutching them, the muscles and veins or her hands and forearms all have popped under her skin, glowing with a light dew of sweat.

After an embarrassingly long pause, during which Neve realizes she’d been leering—and salivating—rather than answering, Neve manages to reply, “No. Sorry.” 

Rana groans, and it’s no different than her usual complaining, but it sounds so good that Neve fears she might actually be going insane. Rushing ahead of her self-consciousness, she continues, “But, I think if we… It might be over with faster, if we… got it out of our systems.”

The roundabout suggestion isn’t lost on Rana; her jaw drops, scandalized, and crosses her arms defensively. “If we—I’m working!” 

As grave and humiliating as the overall situation feels, Neve can’t help but chuckle and, half-horrified to have said it before she’s even finished saying it, teases, “Oh, and you never think about throwing me up against a wall whenever we work together?”

Quick as a whip, Rana retorts, “Sure, Neve, and you spend half the time investigating my ass because you like my pants.”

Judging by the way her eyes widen in disbelief and her ears turn fully red, the quip slipped past her self-control just like Neve’s did hers. In any ordinary circumstance, Neve would be mortified—maybe she slightly undersold ‘checking someone out from time to time’ mentally, but surely she’s not that careless!—but in this bizarre one, she finds the callout… thrilling. 

[What would have happened next: 

Having accidentally acknowledged that they ordinarily are attracted to each other, the energy shifts slightly. 

A pang of arousal staggers Rana, and this time Neve catches her. The contact gives them both such relief + a feeling of light euphoria that becomes clear Neve was right, and that it’s the way to stop the agony.

Rana tries to rationalize everything like “they can still be professional after” and blah blah but Neve pushes her against the wall and kisses her to cut her off (classic)

They finger or grind or whatever

As soon as they’re both done, they feel weird about it but Neve can’t quite find it in her to regret it

They agree to pretend it never happened even though it's clear neither of them are quite satisfied with that conclusion (pro move) 

Back in her apartment, Neve can’t help but write up some notes on “the Opal Rose case” in her journal but tells herself it’s just any other case and pretends she doesn’t feel Some Type of Way about it]

[luvrodite]

passing ships (507)

sleepytime blurbs my beloved. domestic fluff, established relationship, gn! reader, dual pov

you’re asleep when jason comes in. the sun has only just begun it’s descent in the sky, light outside still pouring in through the cracks of your blinds, but you remain curled up under the sheets.

he opens the door and lightens his step when he sees the bundle on his shared bed, treading over quietly to run a hand over your shoulder. mascara smudges in the hollow beneath your eyes, and your face is slackened, quiet breaths whistling through your nose with the rise and fall of your chest.

you’d texted him a couple of hours ago when you’d gotten home, the text accompanied by a litany of emojis that had made him grin down at his phone. he doesn’t think you’ve been asleep for very long, and leaves you be with a kiss on your temple. he’s still got a few things that need his attention, and he assumes you’ll no doubt join him in a few hours, trudging out from the bedroom in a blanket and disgruntled expression when you find him in the living room instead of with you.

he’s spoiled you a little, he thinks, giving in to these whims of yours. but he never really manages to say no, for all his teasing about it. he feels rather like a cat that’s suddenly found itself domesticated - it feels foreign to give in to these things. the impulse to recoil from it rears up every so often, but he finds himself mollified when you don’t seem to fight him on it, finds himself leaning into your touches, looking to you in every room he enters.

to his surprise, as the sunset bleeds through the sky and darkness returns to gotham, there is no sight of you. he goes over a few files for dick, thick packages overflowing with information about some perp that eats up a good few hours of his time, and the apartment remains silent. the tea gets drunk, he gets up to make dinner, and still you sleep.

when you wake, it’s dark outside and your neck feels a little stiff. you blink groggily, eyelids still heavy - sleep is reluctant to let you go, her fingers coaxing you back to her. it’s cold above the blankets, and your arms are littered in goosebumps, but the pillow beneath your chest feels something like a radiator, and you curl back into it. only when your cheek presses against flesh do you realise jason had come to bed sometime in the evening.

he lays on his back, an arm holding you to his chest. your limbs remain tucked closely by his, legs slotted between his own and arms strewn across his frame. he must have manoeuvred you in your sleep, you think, and the thought sparks muddled affection in you, this giant of a man wanting to hold you close.

it's the last thought in your mind before you return to unconsciousness, eyelids slipping closed once more as dreams overtake you. jason's hand remains on your shoulder blade – right behind your heart.

wrote this last week when i slept for twelve hours after my shift and woke up wishing it was in someone's arms. me + writing bedtime fics = 4 ever

[cssns]

Everyone, Please Help Me Welcome @hollyethecurious back to the CSSNS!!!

Your Tumblr and any other applicable names

hollyethecurious (Tumblr) / HollyeLeigh (ao3 and ff.net)

How long have you been in the CS/OUAT fandom?

Since 2016

When did you start shipping Captain Swan?

When Emma held that knife against Hook's throat in S2

What drew you to this event?

My besties

What inspired your topic?

The TV show Grimm

If you would like to share a snippet/sneak peek/summary of your fic or artwork, please use the space below.

Killian watched the vans depart and began tearing down the police tape they’d used to cordon off the area. The techs had left behind one of their flood lights for him to use while finishing his own tasks, but after he stowed it away in his cruiser he realized how unnecessary that had been. The moon was bright enough for him to do a final patrol with the assistance of his flashlight to illuminate the hidden areas within the trees’ shadows.

He’d just finished a sweep of the perimeter when the skin at the back of his neck prickled and his hair began to stand on end. The area, which moments ago had been softly sound-tracked by an ambiance of crickets and distant hoots of owls, had gone quiet.

Too quiet.

Reaching down to his holster, he flicked loose the restraining strap with his thumb before palming his side arm. “Who’s there?” Killian called out as more prickles of unease crept over his skin and up his spine. “Storybrooke PD! Identify yourself!”

Movement flickered in his periphery and the quick succession of snapping twigs alerted him to someone fleeing the scene.

“Halt!” he yelled out while in hot pursuit with his gun drawn. “Storybrooke PD, I demand you stop and identify yourself!”

Barely able to keep pace, Killian chased after the suspect. His attempt to call in the incident over the radio on his shoulder had been met with static as he was clearly too far out of range. Not wishing to lose the perp, he did not want to risk digging his phone from his pocket, lest it slow him down. The pursuit lasted for an agonizing length of time, drawing Killian deeper and deeper into the woods, his legs burning and his lungs screaming from the extreme exertion.

He finally stopped after bursting into a clearing, biting back curses under his heaving breaths for having lost sight of the suspect. Holstering his weapon, he doubled over with his hands on his knees in an attempt to catch his breath. A painful stitch began to form at his side and sweat from his forehead threatened to blur his vision.

The snap of a branch was the only warning he had before something solid collided with him, knocking him to the ground. Inhuman snarls and the gnashing of teeth curdled Killian’s blood even before he caught sight of the monstrous wesen he was currently trying to fight off with all his might.

Blutbad. The Big, Bad Wolf. In full woge and ready to tear Killian’s throat out.

For our artists: What kind of art do you like to do? Picsets, painting, digital, etc?

picsets and collages mostly

What are you looking forward to most about participating in this event?

As always, all the new exciting stories and art pieces. I'm also looking forward to getting a bit of my writing mojo back.

Ok, am I the only one who had shivers running down my spine at that snippet? Welcome back, Hollye!!! Can't wait for the rest of this on July 21!!

[total-drama-brainrot]

You ask for non-rice krispies asks, and so I shall deliver with an ask about your most underrated AU:

How did little alien cody get inside of Noah's bong? Was he always that small? Did he intentionally shrink himself? Is he a menace to Noah specifically or is he just a little gremlin all around?

Someone's gotta ask the real questions here, and it might as well be me /j

FINALLY! Perp's out here asking the real questions.

Alien Cody was imprisoned in the bong for his crimes by A Higher Force, forcibly shrunk down to truly embody the energy he exudes as "A Little Silly" (and to fit in the bong). Despite his glass prison, Alien Cody has one goal; to be a menace to society, one hit at a time.

(Want to clarify here that I'm not against rice krispies asks, I love talking about my fic(s), I just needed a break from all of the hypnosis related asks because I don't want the concept to get stale before I can even write the fic itself. And I don't want people associating me with just that subgenre of content- there's other things I'd like to talk about! But if you want to send in asks about the fic, you're more than welcome to!)

[just-jordie-things]

spiderman fan anon here again who yapped abt how i think ur spideygumi fic is the literal greatest spidey au of all time.. sry i hope ur not tired of hearing abt it but i just reread the fic (again) and i cant stop thinking abt what mc and megumis development would be like from here… megumi is definitely not the typical peter-parker-type with his sense of justice (as one of his figures’ packaging hilariously summarizes “i save people unequally”) which has SOO much potential for a Good fucking hero story AND new relationship dynamic. like maybe megumi tries to become kind of a more “moral” hero on his own, but shit happens, maybe the govt or police are too corrupt and he realizes he can only trust himself to bring justice to the city, a more batman-like mentality. would mc have a problem with his morality and pull away? would she agree with it and help him as a journalist? would she disagree and give him the With great power Comes great responsibility spiel, leading to him growing into a more “true” spiderman-like hero? Idfk i do not write at all but i cant turn off my comics-loving brain with all this potential!!! i also dont mean to push u to write any of this but i had to talk abt it before i Exploded

the way i wanna make this fic a 5 movie franchise now becuz OMG THE AVENUES THIS OPENS UPPP

i am a marvel girl (sorry battinson baby even u aren't my fav) so i see spiderman!gumi having a deadpool mentality but without the mouth lolol

ok here's some very small thoughts i have about what a continuation in the story would've looked like:

he tries to find a mix between the public eyes' idea of the right thing and his version of the right thing but... dammit some people just gotta suffer a bit don't they?

he sees someone get a lil too harsh with a dog and he can't just give em a lil scare. next thing he knows they're beaten beyond recognition and webbed up to a wall for the police to deal with. fuck that guy, who hurts dogs??

when the news starts to call him things like menace and people start to wonder if he's not the altruistic hero they thought he was, megumi tries to balance between the different schools of thought of justice. he has you by his side, supporting him and wishing him all the best with being the best he can be...

so when some perp he's apprehending starts spouting off some real nasty shit, megumi tries to tell himself that prison will bring him to justice. over and over in his head he tells himself that he has to let some things go...

but damnit this bigoted asshole won't shut up and megumi just doesn't see how society could possibly function with pieces of shit like this roaming around. and no, when the guy's body goes limp after a swift ninety-degree head-spinning snap to the neck, megumi doesn't feel any regret. only relief that there's one less bastard in his city.

as for you, you've always trusted in spiderman. so you're learning to place your trust in megumi, too. you hate the rare occasion when he visits you bloodied and bruised, but you hate the idea of a city without spiderman's protection even more. you've been a fan of spiderman since the first day you'd heard of the sightings. a ride or die doesn't walk away just because things are getting a little nastier out there.

a career in journalism will prove to be difficult. the truth about megumi's double life is a secret that you both understand must stay contained no matter the price. you probably bounce around a few firms, trying to find just the right place to land where you can write the truth without revealing too much. however most outlets just want to report on the crimes spiderman himself has committed, and you struggle with badmouthing your hero (and your boyfriend)

i like to think megumi laughs at the papers trying to paint him as a villain. it doesn't stress him out, it's nothing to him really. just a source of entertainment for him to read to you over dinner. between the two of you, you handle the ugly headlines far worse. but megumi likes to rile you up by reading all the worst ones to you, just to make you fuss over it all. some nights it's like you're rivals again- megumi taunting you with the latest edition of the spider-menace storytelling, chuckling when you start to crinkle your brows and spout off about how some writers are uneducated phonies or how they're ungrateful for what he's done. you never fail to go on a long winded rant followed by some chugged down water. and as always, megumi will just smirk and shake his head as he throws away said latest edition.

___

i lost wind here but i would love to hear if anyone has other thoughts too!!

[sinnerbanshee]

Olivia Benson X GN AMAB Reader

(this is part one of this, Im slowly writing on it to make one long story in google docs, let me know if yall like this)

[reader uses they/them pronouns, but has a dick, also has medical issues {i.e. low blood sugar, chronic kidney disease} these are all things I have and live with, so this fic is VERYYY self indulgent]

It was a normal day. Or as normal as working in SVU can be. 

I had been working since 3 early this morning been studying these cases like the back of my hand, yet I can't figure out the perp's next move, it's like we've been running in circles trying to find this guy. 

I slowly doze off at my desk, staring at a screen all day combined with me not sleeping last night did a number on my energy, doesn't help I haven't eaten in a day or so. 

My eyes blink a couple times, trying to get rid of the spots I'm seeing before I lean back in my chair and close my eyes, letting my body pass out for a couple seconds before I open then again, standing up. 

My feet feel unsteady and my hands feel like jello, I haven't gotten this bad in a while. As I try to steady myself I slowly make my way over to the coffee stand, grabbing a super packet and ripping it open to pour into my mouth. 

It's not weird to notice when I do, but I still get the occasional looks for Munch or any of the other officers coming and going. I sit in the chair near the coffee stand and lean back into it, closing my eyes while I wait for my blood sugar to go back up. 

As I stay there for a couple minutes I hear footsteps getting closer to me, soon standing over me and blocking the very little light the station provides already. 

I slowly open my eyes to look at the person and smile a bit as I see Olivia holding a juice box from one of the mini fridges. 

She smiles down at me and squats down so we're closer in height, she gently sets the juice box next to me on the table and looks at me.

"You doing okay? I know those sugar packets must taste like shit when you just eat then straight"

I chuckle a bit and nod, closing my eyes again as I lean back. 

"Not the best solution, but I can't be passing out randomly, and I forgot my medical bag again"

Olivia looks at me, a little concerned. 

"Again? That's the third time this month [F/N], I'm getting worried. Have any of the cases been affecting you, do you need a break? Have you even been getting any sleep?”:“ 

I shake my head as I open my eyes again and look at her, grabbing the juice box and opening it as I sip on it.

“No, I’ll be fine just, need a couple minutes before I go back to work, besides Liv, you can’t say much about sleeping yourself, I know how you get with some of the cases”

She sighed and nodded, laughing dryly.

“Yea, I know, I’m a hypocrite, but still. It’s not wrong to care about one of my detectives, especially when we both know your medical history and how careless you get sometimes.”

I sigh and nod, sitting up and stretching as I feel slightly better.

“Yea, yea, I know, you just dont want me passing out on the field, then you could have a law case, blah blah, I know”

I chuckle and finish stretching, looking at her.

“Well, i feel better already so I better get back to that case, that guy is still out there with the next victim”

She shakes her head and stands up, blocking me from getting up.

“You’re gonna go home and sleep [F/N], I’ll drive you home, I dont trust that you wouldn’t fall asleep at the wheel right now”

I sigh and slowly get up as she backs away to give me a little space.

“Fine, but I cant guarantee that Im gonna actually sleep, you know that I cant without medication, and my prescription has to wait till next week”

(let me know if y'all liked this and if I should change anything!!)

[bitkahuna]

WIP Fanfictions:

Masterlist of the seven fanfictions I’m currently writing. Will be updated as progress is made!!

To see my published fanfictions, go here to my AO3

Green fics are being actively worked on while orange fics are touched less consistently. Blue are actively being published and are a priority.

.

1) Thorin Oakenshield x Bilbo Baggins - Lord of the Rings & The Hobbit - Cultural differences being abound as an innocent Hobbit is corrupted by our favorite dwarven king. (NSFW, gay, corruption kink)

2) Harry Potter x Draco Malfoy - Harry Potter book and movie franchises - An entire fucking rewrite of the book series where Harry is far more proactive and more of a BAMF in trying to not only thwart, but also go on the offense in the war between good and evil, as well as his life after. (NSFW, gay, portrayals of addiction, graphic violence, death and murder (but it’s only the bad guys cause I’m only capable of writing happy endings))

3) Julian Bashir x Elim Garak - Star Trek: Deep Space 9 - post-Dominion war ... it's incredibly fucking complicated. Nearly a decade ago, Julian Bashir, along with 12 other augmented children were rescued from a secret base on an asteroid, rehabilitated, and given the chance at real lives. When Dr. Zimmerman boards the DS9 having already realized Julian is an augment, Starfleet creates the lie that it was done by his parents in order to save face for the fact that they knew Julian was an augment before he ever even enrolled at the academy. But when the truth begins to come out, Garak is quite fascinated by just how good a liar Julian actually is.

4) Reader x Dr. T’Ana - Star Trek: Lower Decks - A dying cryo-ship is stumbled upon by the USS: Cerritos with only a single human aboard. Dr. T’Ana finds herself suspicious of the woman born four hundred years ago as her crumbling relationship with Shaxs leads her to a queer crisis.

5) Reader x Cicero - Elder Scrolls X: Skyrim - After the final battle against Alduin, something went wrong. Very wrong. The Dragonborn should not have been able to absorb Alduin’s soul. Yet, she did. What happens when the souls of a Dragonborn and a demigod combine?

6) Reader x Asterion - Baldur’s Gate III - The Nautiloid slipped from world to world, dimension to dimension, and universe to universe with all the ease of a cockroach squirming under a door. Until, shortly before the events leading to its crash, it crashed through the realm of the goddess of dreams, accidentally taking the goddess and resetting her to a weakened mortal form.

7) Sam x Gabriel - Supernatural - After Jack resets the world, all seems normal. Dangers are still abound, but not nearly as serious as they once were. A powerful mage trying to find eternal youth has popped up on the Winchester’s radar, but after investigating and finding the perp, Sam is hit with the interrupted magic ritual and is reverted back to who he was in his college days. Unfortunately for him, a certain trickster archangel was also resurrected by Jack. Even more unfortunate, Sam was quite the asshole in college. Just the kind that Gabriel had always taken a particular joy in humbling.