#seven pages of straight-up smut

[chelseeebe]

still into you

after abruptly leaving hawkins (and you) seven years ago, eddie munson, ex-boyfriend turned rockstar, makes a grand return. how will things pan out when your lives couldn’t be further apart?

this has been in the drafts for god knows how long and you can definitely tell where my writing started to improve as i came back to it.. hope y’all enjoy anyway! this is so long good lord. also includes a bit of bestfriendism with stevie!

18+. mdni. smut. mentions of alcohol. eddie is a dickhead. no use of y/n!

read part two here.

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‘you know he’s coming back next weekend?’ steve mutters, nodding towards you as you rip the sellotape from the brown box, beginning to stack the cans of soup.

‘is he? oh my god oh my god,’ feigning excitement with a straight face.

you’d already known he was coming back, you’d received the invitation just like everybody else. except, you’d swiftly put the gimmicky piece of paper into the trash and got on with your day. confused why everyone else seemed to be losing their goddamn minds over it.

he huffs quietly, helping you with the heavy tins, ‘are you gonna go?’ steve didn’t actually work in melvalds but came in on his breaks purely to chat and distract you from your work.

‘am i gonna go? hmm, let me think.. no.’

‘he wants to see you.. you should come,’ prodding his elbow into your side, collapsing the box into a flat piece of cardboard.

‘you spoke to him?’ ears perking up. you didn’t care if he’d mentioned you. no, really.

‘yeah.. he called a few weeks ago, y’know when the invitations got sent out,’ picking up the next box to start filling the shelf.

‘oh! it’s nice to know he called you and just hilarious to know i never got a phone call,’ getting frankly quite sick of hearing about eddie fucking munson and his grand return.

once upon a time, eddie had actually been your boyfriend. must’ve been 7 or so years ago by this point.. anyway, that was before he’d got his big break and decided that he was going to completely forget about hawkins.. and about you. you’d still been together after his first tiny tour, excitedly waiting for him to come home when he just.. never did.

he’d had the decency to at least call and tell you that he was breaking up with you.. we’re just in different places right now.. it’s not you.. i don’t want you to ruin your life waiting for me..

it was essentially a whole bunch of bullshit, because the very next month he was spotted with some bottle blonde model looking suspiciously close at some club he’d have absolutely hated the year prior. it was like a punch to the gut, flicking through the pages of the trashy magazine just knowing that you hadn’t been enough for this new lifestyle of his.

from then on, you’d decided to disengage with any and everything about him. turning the tv off when corroded coffin came on one of the morning talk shows, leaving the room at parties when one of his song’s inevitably came on and just completely blanking out of the conversation when his name was brought up. it was easier that way, saved your feelings and the awkward glances you’d get.

at some point things had become slightly more complicated and you’re not sure how exactly it had happened but you had wound up pregnant. and by jason carver no less. maybe it was your shared disdain for eddie that had brought you together. who knows?

but it had happened and now you had to deal with it. and although jason may come in a close second to world’s biggest assholes.. you had gained a beautiful daughter from it all and had become quite content with your single mom life.

people had come and gone, robin jetting off to some fancy college in california.. jonathan and nancy ending up in new york at some hot-shot newspaper.. the kids you’d sort of gathered had all gone off to various colleges, becoming adults themselves. all except for steve.

steve had stayed in hawkins like you, begrudgingly following his father’s footsteps, getting a job at his accounting firm. it was good money and kept his dad happy so he couldn’t fault it really. he’d even got his own place just down the street from your house and at some point you’d just accepted that he was probably your only friend in hawkins.

it had brought the two of you undeniably closer and maybe you’d even call him your best friend now. well, except for right now as he was beginning to piss you off with all this fussing over eddie.

‘you have to come.. it’s not just for him, everyone is going.. it’s a reunion,’ steve continues to pester you despite your efforts to shut him down.

‘steve, i’m not going and that’s that.’

he sighs, staring at you with a blank expression, ‘okay, well.. i’ll tell him it’s a maybe,’ checking his watch before frowning, ‘shit, i’m late.. i’ll see you later,’ throwing the empty cardboard to the floor before dashing off down the aisle, giving you an exaggerated wave as he disappears.

you just knew that he was not going to drop this until you agreed to go. but he could kick and scream as much as he liked, you had absolutely zero desire to go this flimsy reunion and even less desire to see eddie in the flesh.

-

it’s another dull week of stacking shelves and managing a team of absolute morons and before you know it, it’s the day before that fucking reunion and steve is still as incessant as ever that you must go.

‘my mom can look after ella.. please just come,’ he sounded like he was a second away from getting on his knees to actually beg you to go.

you’d started to just ignore him now, getting on with whatever you were doing, choosing to give him the silent treatment. he hated that.

‘you’re so annoying,’ he scoffs, still helping you unbox the bags of chips, ‘will you just come for five minutes.. you don’t even have to talk to eddie, it’s the first time we’ll all be together again.. puh-leaseee,’ breaking into a weird sort of sing-song tone.

you exhale through your nose, visibly frustrated by the man, ‘i’m going to ban you in a minute,’ raising your eyebrows, taking the same tone you used when ella was being a brat.

‘no you won’t,’ furrowing his brows, ‘what if i promise to stand in between you the whole night? i’ll beat him with a stick if he even tries to talk to you,’ completely serious with what he just said.

you chortle, covering your mouth as one of the elderly customers walks past, slightly bewildered by the noise that just escaped your mouth, ‘couldn’t you just beat him with a stick anyway?’

‘ehh.. not really, he is paying for the whole thing,’ straightening the bags of air he’d just placed on the shelf, ‘i mean, i could if you really want me to.’

you roll your eyes, of course he was. he’d rented the fanciest restaurant just outside of town for your gaggle of pals. any chance to flaunt the fact that he’d made it out of this hell hole and left the rest of you in the dirt.

‘i have a child, steve, i can’t just go out and leave her at home.. some of us aren’t free like you are,’ turning to face him with a stern hand on your hip.

‘i just told you my mom’ll look after her.. she hasn’t seen her in so long and.. and you can stay at mine and i’ll take you to her first thing in the morning,’ his eyes are round, glimmering in the harsh overhead lights.

‘i don’t have anything to wear,’ shrugging, you really didn’t. becoming a mother isn’t quite so glamorous and a lot of clothes you’d once fit into had become a little tight.

‘when d’you finish?’

narrowing your eyes at him, ‘two..’

‘great.. okay well, i’ll take a half-day and we can go shopping.. on me,’ wiggling his eyebrows at you. the thing about steve is that he believes that most problems can be solved by throwing money at it.

he wasn’t wrong, of course.

because you reluctantly agree to go shopping with him on the condition that you weren’t definitely going to this thing. you were just going to try on dresses. that was it.

-

you get a cab to the restaurant, there was no way in hell you were doing this sober nor did you want to subject steve to being sober for your sake. palms clammy as you clamber out of the vehicle, immediately regretting your decision.

no one would care if you didn’t go, right? you could quite easily just get back into the taxi and go home without forcing yourself to endure the night.

steve’s one step ahead of you, grabbing your hand so you can’t run away. throwing him an awful glare but you weren’t really mad, just annoyed that he’d succeeded in persuading you to come.

‘c’mon.. it won’t be so bad once you’re in there,’ smoothing down his fresh shirt as he begins to walk up the winding path, dragging you along behind him.

he’s wrong. it’s so much worse inside. the place was huge, extravagantly decorated and full of people you’d once regarded as your best friends, all too busy in their own conversations to notice you and steve walk in.

it wasn’t like you hadn’t heard from them, it had just been through occasional letters and christmas cards rather than seeing them face to face. robin would call sometimes, fill you in on whatever she had been up to and beg to speak to ella who absolutely loved it. you were sure they were on the same wavelength.

you look to steve with wary eyes, digging your fingertips into his hand, ‘we could just leave right now.. no one would even know,’ tugging gently on his arm.

‘hey,’ he whispers, ‘it’s okay.. look, robin’s coming over, we’ll say hi and see how you feel,’ using his spare hand to wave at the bubbly girl, dropping your hand to give her a hug.

‘oh my god,’ she rushes, ‘how are you? you look so good.. and i don’t mean you,’ pulling away from steve to throw her arms around you, her gentle hands rubbing on your back.

‘hah, it’s nice to see you too,’ steve rolls his eyes, grabbing two of the champagne flutes being ferried around by fancy waiters.

she pulls back, ‘i didn’t think you were coming.. how are you doing? how’s ella?’ the words falling out of her mouth at super speed, it was as if her mouth moved before her brain did.

‘i wasn’t gonna but i wanted to see you guys,’ you nod, taking the glass from steve’s outstretched hand and taking a lengthy sip, ‘i’m okay.. ella’s okay.. you’ll have to come and see her before you leave.’

‘i will i will! i literally landed like two hours ago and had to rush but i’m back until friday,’ her hands flying around as she spoke, ‘come and say hello..’ her arm intertwines with yours as she leans in closer to your ear, ‘he’s staring y’know..’

your eyes roll back on their own, not even wanting to search the room for him, ‘i’m not speaking to him so he can stare all he likes,’ straightening up as you approach the group robin had left.

nancy’s talking to max about something in incredible detail but is quite to stop when you approach, mouth in a small ‘o’ as she hugs you, ‘you came? i thought we were gonna miss you,’ grinning wide when she pulls back.

you give an overdramatic sigh, ‘of course i had to come.. you’d all miss me too much,’ waving to the rest of the group.

there are a lot of small pleasantries swapped, asking about their journey’s here and how they’d been.. standard small talk. but then el asks to see a picture of ella, ecstatic that their names were so similar. you’d come prepared, pulling the creased picture out of your bag.

they all gush and coo over her, it was a picture you’d snapped from her first day of kindergarten, cheesing with her pigtails and pink hair bobbles. passing it around the gathered group, still steadily sipping on the bitter champagne.

‘who’s that?’ eddie asks, you hadn’t noticed him sidle over to the crowd, stood peering over lucas’ shoulder at the photograph.

your eyes meet his, seeing his face for the first time in what felt like centuries. he looked older, obviously, still sporting the same long curls except now it actually looked as if it’d been styled. he’s in a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, forearms now littered with tattoos and a nice looking watch. your heart just about stops beating when you realise you’ll now have to explain exactly who that is.

‘uh.. that’s ella,’ you nod, not quite meeting his eyes, ‘..my daughter,’ taking the photo from lucas’ hand, the atmosphere had quite suddenly shifted and people begin to scatter, starting their own conversations so they don’t have to bare witness to this one.

‘oh.. oh, right.. well, congratulations then,’ the shadow of a smile on his lips, could he feel how fucking awkward this was?

‘thank you,’ giving him a half nod, startled as steve’s hand brushes the small of your back. he’d seen that you were in conversation and had left dustin to fulfil his security guard promise.

‘it’s nice that you two found each other.. you have a beautiful daughter,’ still not fully committed to smiling but he was getting there.

your face contorts, immediately looking to steve before letting out a god awful cackle, ‘oh no.. she’s not steve’s,’ covering your mouth before another taunting laugh comes out.

steve is trying to stifle his grin but fails, reaching his hand out to shake eddie’s hand, ‘ah man, no ella’s not mine but she is beautiful, isn’t she? how are you?’

you’re eternally grateful that he he’s managed to sway the conversation and you aren’t forced to explain why or how you’d had a child with jason fucking carver. turning back to robin as you hear steve ramble on about work and corroded coffin’s new album, something you had absolutely no care about.

‘shall we get another drink?’ robin asks, eyeing the open bar and your empty glass.

‘please.’

the rest of the night is going.. relatively well. it’s kinda unsettling to watch the younger kids drink legally, getting more boisterous and loud as the night progresses. it’s nice, if not a little sad just thinking about how you weren’t really able to enjoy yourself at their age because you had a newborn.

you must’ve been deep in thought as you don’t even notice eddie creep up to the empty table, standing awkwardly besides your chair, ‘can we talk?’

your eyes shoot up to meet his, baffled by his presence, ‘what could we possibly have to talk about?’

he exhales through his nose, ‘uh.. a lot? we don’t have to do it here.. i have a room upstairs or.. outside?’

‘no,’ gripping onto your glass of wine, desperately trying to grab the attention of someone behind eddie to come and save you, ‘i don’t want to speak to you.’

he’s exasperated, clutching onto his beer with strained white knuckles. how were you ever supposed to move past this when you wouldn’t even give him the opportunity to explain himself. but that was exactly it. you didn’t care about any of the silly excuses you’re sure he’d conjured up, he did what he did and that was that.

‘i’m trying here..’ sounding exasperated, ‘how ‘bout dinner? sometime this week, on me,’ his voice is deeper now, raspier. you figure as a result of constant partying and chain smoking while on tour.

‘i have a child and a job.. i don’t have time for dinner with you on top of that,’ swallowing the rest of the sweet white wine, putting the empty glass back on the table with a forceful slam.

you make brief eye contact with will who was passing behind eddie and decide to take the opportunity to pounce, standing from your chair and rushing over the second he nears your table.

‘will.. hey,’ speeding to catch him up, mouthing a small save me, clinging to his arm as you move away from eddie who was stood deflated at the table.

will thankfully catches your drift, steering you towards the bar, ‘you okay? i was just about to leave..’ placing his empty glass onto the bar with a soft sigh.

‘what? no.. if i can’t go then you’re not allowed either,’ talking sternly to the boy even though he now towered above you and just about everybody else in here.

he screws up his face, looking over to the dance floor, ‘it’s just..’ sighing once again, ‘awful, isn’t it?’ following his gaze to an intoxicated mike performing an elaborate air guitar routine in the middle of the floor.

it wasn’t exactly the same, but you could empathise with the difficult situation and that foul feeling in your stomach that you were sure he could feel too. you could imagine that it wasn’t easy to see the man you’d once, or perhaps still loved after so long. in fact, you didn’t really need to imagine at all.

deciding it was better to change the subject, distract him from the unraveling scene on the dance floor, ‘d’you smoke?’

he looks around quickly, watching out for a listening jonathan, you assume before he nods quickly, ‘but no one can know,’ a hint of a smile creeping onto his face.

you return the devilish grin before hooking your arm in his, pulling him towards the door where you could get the hell away from annoying men and their long black hair.

-

it’s gone three by the time you get back to steve’s, genuinely having to coax him from the party and into the cab you’d shared with a belligerent dustin, making sure he had got home safely.

‘i wasn’t too mean, was i?’ snuggled up in steve’s blankets, facing each other in the low light of his room.

‘nooo, no you were on fire,’ he laughs, he was still tipsy and slightly reeking of booze as he lay next to you.

‘really? you’re sure?’ he was definitely just drunk and blabbing on but you’d take it.

‘yes.. it was perfect,’ he hiccups, interrupting his sentence, ‘buuut.. and i’m not the only one who said this so don’t kill me..’ kissing the back of his teeth, ‘you’re not gonna like what i have to say.’

‘what? what is it?’ prodding his shoulder with a quick jab. knowing eddie, he’d probably gone round the party whispering some bullshit about the two of you.

‘well..’ holding his hands in the air, ‘there’s still chemistry there.. y’know i could see it,’ raising his eyebrows, hands collapsing onto the blanket.

‘right, i’m going to sleep.. you’re drunk and just saying stupid shit now,’ rolling your eyes as you settle into the soft pillow, closing your eyes so you no longer had to entertain his idiotic nonsense.

he chortles, hiccuping mid-laugh which makes a horrid choking noise, ‘i’m not that drunk.. robin said it too,’ the lamp clicks off, darkening the room, ‘and dustin..’

‘go to sleep steve,’ unamused and tired.

‘okay okay.. goodnight,’ he calls, you can hear the smile in his voice as he turns to face the other way, taking that as your opportunity to rest your head on his back, nuzzling into the soft cotton t-shirt.

-

monday is particularly awful and you’re reminded exactly why you don’t drink often. two days on and you’re still exhausted, half-heartedly filling the shelves and just trying to make it to two o’clock.

in your tired state, one of the bottles of shampoo you were putting out, falls out of your hand and rolls off somewhere down the aisle. you sigh, a deep, fed-up, exhaustive sigh and get up to go and fetch it when the bottle appears before your face, a tattooed, ring-filled hand latched onto it.

‘carver? really?’ eddie frowns, watching you from above, eyebrows furrowed together.

you place the bottle onto it’s rightful spot on the shelf and choose to ignore him. if he’d come all the way down here just to piss you off about your poor life choices then he could get fucked.

‘when’d that happen?’

blanking him again as you continue to put stuff onto the shelves. this was the easiest way to guarantee that you weren’t going to get yourself fired for being rude to him.

‘you gonna ignore me? i just wanna know,’ still poking and prodding, he clearly wasn’t very good at picking up on context clues.

nothing.

‘fuck, can you just talk to me for five minutes?’ your silence was driving him crazy, aggravating him to no end.

‘i’m at work, so no,’ hurriedly trying to finish the stock you had so you had an excuse to rush out the back and away from him.

he was fortunate that it was a quiet monday, the store full of mostly older ladies who had no idea who he was. you sorta hoped that he’d get mobbed and would have to hurry off and leave you alone.

‘why jason? out of literally everyone else in this shithole you choose jason?’ screwing his face up in disgust.

you slam the box cutter down with a loud clatter, causing a few turned heads and raised eyebrows. fuck ‘em. if you had done what you’d really wanted to do, you’d be locked up forever.

‘i don’t know if you remember this but my boyfriend of like, two years ran away and never came home so yeah.. that kinda fucked with me a little and lucky for me, jason carver was there and also hated my ex’s guts.. so it was perfect, you know?’ staring flatly at him, you were not dealing with his shit today.

eddie scoffs, ‘so you had a kid with him? and now.. what? you play happy families just to spite me? is that it?’

‘yes eddie, i had a whole child just to piss you off.’

he gawps back at you, clearly also did not possess the ability to sense sarcasm.

‘no,’ scowling at him, ‘it was an accident and now he’s.. i dunno, coaching basketball at some school in ohio or some shit.. why don’t you go and bother him?’

‘so you’re not together?’

you can only roll your eyes in response, in sheer disbelief that he’d made such a fuss because he couldn’t just outright ask if you were single.

un-fucking-believable.

you’ve had just about enough of this conversation, pulling your little trolley back towards the swing doors that lead to the warehouse. at least he wasn’t allowed in there.

‘wait! wait..’ he grabs onto the other side of the trolley, stopping you from walking off, ‘have dinner with me tonight or.. tomorrow?’ eyes big and pleading.

‘now why would i do that?’

‘because i want to explain myself.. i need to.’

one of the younger shoppers notices who he is and begins trying to talk to him, coming over to where you two stood rather excitedly. eddie is kind enough to smile and give her a few polite words, eyes still latched onto yours despite the ecstatic woman beside him.

‘okay,’ honestly just wanting to get away from all this commotion, ‘tomorrow.’

his scowl subsides, replaced by a gleaming grin, ‘six o’clock.. pino’s, i’ll sort it, okay?’ already starting to walk away from the crazy woman.

‘right,’ you nod, pulling your trolley away and into the back warehouse, leaning against the concrete wall. the whole exchange was tiring, knocking whatever tiny bit of energy out of you.

were you actually gonna go?

absolutely fucking not.

-

by the time six rolls around the next night, you really had forgotten all about it. rushing to get ella her dinner after swimming lessons, already worrying about paying for yet another field trip she’d sprung on you earlier. you’d begun to wonder if they even taught in the classrooms anymore with the amount of permission slips she brought home.

she’s finally settled into bed, after much protesting and a lot of coaxing. you’re just about to finally relax on the couch when someone hammers on your front door. and if you weren’t already pissed off with ella’s whining, you were most definitely about to be with whichever mindless prick was banging on your door.

‘what do you want?’ you hiss, jerking the door open to reveal a pathetic looking eddie on the other side, face forlorn and dejected.

he’s in that white shirt again. it makes you sick to your stomach to admit that it really does look good on him. his arms now more defined, the cotton sticking to his muscles, briefly showcasing the new tattoos underneath. maybe he’d actually got off of his ass and did something other than smoke weed all day.

‘oh so you are alive, d’you forget about something?’ he’s snarling now, having conjured up some elaborate excuse in his head as to why you hadn’t showed, only to find you at home, seemingly with no care in the world.

‘oops,’ the corners of your mouth twitching into a smile, you hadn’t even actually meant to stand him up, you were just gonna call his hotel and cancel but the thought had just completely slipped your mind.

and even if it shouldn’t, it really did feel good. knowing he was the one sat waiting for you for once.

‘oops? i sat there for an hour waiting for you and then spent the last hour trying to convince dustin to give me your fucking address.. and all you can say is oops?’

you shrug, ‘feels pretty shitty to be forgotten about, doesn’t it?’ tilting your head, watching as his face falls. he’d been got.

‘okay.. okay, i get it, and i’m sorry.. there’s not a day that goes by that i don’t feel like shit for how i treated you,’ his head dips low, looking particularly sorry for himself.

and for a second you do too. not that he deserved it. quickly having to remind yourself exactly what he had done to you, which was not at all helped by the fact that he now had everything he’d ever wanted in life.

and you couldn’t fault your life. truly. but fuck did it sting sometimes, to know that your life had stagnated, stuck in the same shitty town you’d grown up in while he was on the other side of the country, more money than sense and a hoard of doting fans that would do absolutely anything he’d ask of them.

‘good,’ you bark, going to slam the door shut only for it to bang against his black boot wedged in the door, ‘if you don’t move your foot i’ll- i’ll call the police.’

‘no you won’t,’ his hand reaches out to grab onto the other side of the handle, he could’ve easily pushed his way in if he’d really wanted, ‘let’s talk.. like adults,’ begging you now, ‘please.’

you huff, this would end with you either letting him in or being forced to wake ella after you bashed his head into the doorframe. it was easier to just accept the first option and you’d find some bullshit to get him to leave later on.

opening the door wider to let him in, keeping your eyes square on the ground as he walks through, peering around at your home. probably comparing it to his mansion in the hollywood hills the pretentious fuck.

‘nice..’ he nods, leaning in to look at the photo of you and ella a few christmas’ ago, she was tiny then, sporting a miniature santa hat.

‘yeah well, she’s asleep upstairs so.. make it quick,’ you frown, closing the door behind him, watching as his eyes take in the cluttered room, smile fading when he catches sight of the singular picture you have up of jason and ella.

‘i can’t believe you chose to fuck jason of all people.. i mean, i’ve made some shitty decisions in my life but..’ he stops himself from going any further when he sees your face, if looks could kill, he’d be long gone by now.

‘did you come here for a reason? or are you here to talk about my life decisions.. because i really don’t want to hear it from you,’ crossing your arms over your chest, wanting him out of your house.

‘no.. no, shit- i’m sorry,’ he shuffles on his feet, banging his head, ‘i wanna talk.. properly.’

you roll your hand to motion for him to continue, ‘go on..’

he inhales, chewing on the inside of his cheek, trying to psyche himself up to actually say what he wanted to say. it wasn’t that he didn’t know what to say, he just couldn’t string it together to make sense.

‘i’m sorry for the way i treated you.. it wasn’t right and i know that now,’ his hand coming to rub the back of his clammy next, why was your house so fucking hot?

‘okay.. apology accepted, was that everything?’ you say flatly, glancing up the stairs to make sure ella wasn’t awake and out of her room.

his face falls, ‘can you just.. just let me explain,’ his adam apple bobbing as he swallows, ‘why don’t you sit down..’ motioning towards your ratty couch.

you relent your stern stature, hesitantly going to sit on the couch, trying to ensure that he couldn’t possibly sit next to you by sprawling your legs out onto the empty cushion. so he takes the seat furthest away, running his hands down his tight jeans. designer, no less.. the only person you knew stupid enough to spend thousands on designer jeans just to tear holes in them.

‘when i ended things with you, i wasn’t.. well, it was me, but i had my manager screaming in my ear that it’d never work and he could hook me up with some fuckin’ model.. it’d help the band.. so that’s what i did,’ and for once, he looked genuinely remorseful, fiddling with the loose threads on his expensive jeans.

‘so you sold out? that’s your excuse?’

his head shoots up, mouth hung open with absolute disgust all over his face, ‘i am not a sell out.’

which is incredibly refutable, you’d heard a snippet of one of their recent songs on the radio at work and it had sounded exactly like the commercial shit he used to rag on when you were together. not a touch on the corroded coffin you sat and watched practice for hours on end.

‘oh? so you didn’t break up with me to further your career? you just wanted to fuck hot models? which one is it ‘cause i’m a little confused here,’ completely losing it, springing up from your slouched position.

‘okay, yeah.. yeah i did, i broke up with you because i wanted to fuckin’ make something of my life.. and look at where i am and look at-,’

‘-don’t you dare finish that sentence,’ you snap, gritting your teeth together as you near his face, positively shaking with rage.

‘what’re you gonna do? you gonna hit me? do it,’ his chin tilted to match your elevated position, eyes glued to yours.

‘i should.’

his lips twitch into a smirk, ‘you won’t.’

and before your brain has the time to really process your next movements, he balls his fist into your t-shirt, causing your chest to collide into his as his lips smash into yours, knocking the air out of your lungs.

scrambling to find his shoulders for balance, sliding one hand onto his stubbly cheek. it’s all teeth and tongues, he’s ravenous and unrelenting, letting go of his grip on your shirt to place his hands on your hips, ‘move,’ mumbling against your lips as he attempts to manoeuvre you onto his lap while twisting around.

he slides down the couch, keeping a solid hold of your body as you find the right position. your legs are either side of his waist, sliding into the gap between his body and the couch sitting right on his crotch. wasting absolutely zero time in connecting your lips against, honestly not wanting to run the risk of him opening his mouth and ruining this.

his large hands find solace on your ass, creeping up to remove the oversized shirt you’d thrown on. you place your hand above his, restricting him from moving any further. it’s not that you were embarrassed- okay, maybe you were a little. but your body had changed since becoming a mom and eddie had become accustomed to gorgeous models and perfect women that he’d certainly not want to see your boring, frumpy mom body.

he groans in protest, trying again to lift the shirt further only for your fingernails to dig into his hand, ‘no,’ speaking into the filthy kiss.

eddie pulls away from the kiss, fingers coming to gently brush the hair from your face, ‘you can’t be serious? i’ve seen it all before,’ he grumbles, fingers itching to try lift it again.

‘not like this you haven’t.. i just.. want it on, okay?’

‘no- why won’t you let me take this off?’ fingers curling around the hem, already trying his luck with getting it up again.

you sigh, meeting his blown out eyes with your glossy ones, ‘i don’t even know what i’m doing.. fuck,’ attempting to climb off of his lap while the spare hand he has on your ass clamps you down, keeping you pressed to him.

‘hey.. hey, keep it on.. i don’t care,’ already trying to chase your lips, ‘i’m just saying, you don’t need to,’ the denim covering his growing erection starting to rub against your throbbing clit, the sparse material of your pajama shorts were not leaving much to the imagination.

‘jesus christ, just take it off,’ giving up in your protest, it was useless against eddie’s persistence.

you press your lips to his the second your shirt is off, there was no time to judge your body if he couldn’t see it. pulling at his jacket to get it off, the metal buttons digging into your now bare skin.

‘i didn’t.. i didn’t mean.. what i said..’ babbling through the kiss as he shimmies out of the jacket, landing on the floor with a soft thud.

‘shut up,’ you whine, running your hand along the length of his chest until you reach the hem of his black shirt, gripping your fingers around the fabric and lifting it slightly, exposing his midriff, the soft trail of hair ascending the skin.

his head jerks backwards, allowing you to tug the shirt off, finally allowing his eyes to wander to your chest. ‘holy shit,’ he remarks like he’d never seen a pair of tits before. it’s futile for him to pretend that he hadn’t seen some amazing boobs in his time so you scoff, rolling your eyes.

working your hand at his belt buckle, fiddling with the metal until it pops undone. he’s hard already and it makes you groan, brushing your hand over the raised denim. this week seriously must’ve been difficult if he was getting hard so easily over you.

it doesn’t ever occur to you how much of a mistake this was. and even if it did, you didn’t have much time to ponder on it as his hands are grabbing at your breasts, palming them as his lips suck at your jaw and down onto your neck softly. guaranteed to leave a lovely violet mark that the old ladies at work would certainly gasp at.

he’s helping you with his jeans, one hand gripping onto your waist to keep you steady as he lifts his hips from the couch and the other hurriedly yanking them down just enough to reveal his boxers. that’s the next port of call, fingers grabbing at the thin black cotton, pulling them down his thighs as his cock springs into action.

eddie’s lips are still on your neck while you mindlessly wrap your hand around his cock, pumping your fist as you shuffle upwards. his breath hitches in his throat, still peppering sloppy kisses to the sensitive skin.

‘oh god,’ he whines into your collarbone, feeling his eyelashes flutter against your jaw. for a man who had been painted as womaniser in the media, he sure was still just as pathetic as he used to be underneath you.

you’re a little annoyed that it’s you who’s taking control right now. after so many years of disrespect from his end, you think he at least owed it to you to take charge.

your hand grabs onto his shoulder, pulling his face from your neck, ‘be quiet, okay?’ sitting taller to position yourself comfortably, the harsh fabric of the couch grazing your knees.

he nods, sliding his hand up your waist and back to your hip, taking in the sight of you. you wouldn’t ever admit it aloud, but truthfully, you really did miss him sometimes. missed the way his pretty pink lips looked after being glued to yours or the way he gazed at you doing the most mundane tasks.

you cant your hips, sinking down onto his length slowly, biting down onto your bottom lip as his cock fills you to the hilt. his eyelids flicker, fingernails digging into your doughy hips. it’s been a little while since you’d done this so you have to take a second to become accustomed to the slight stretch. it’s good, in the most masochistic way.

your hands cling onto his shoulders, watching his slack jaw, tiny breaths escaping from his mouth as you attempt to move. painstakingly slow at first, knees beginning to shake as you try to remember what you should even be doing. your cheeks flushing, feeling so incredibly embarrassed. the man was fucking models and then you’re here, pitifully trying to ride him. it’s awful, you know it’s awful.

his arm comes to snake around your waist, taking matters into his own hands and flipping the two of you around, your back suddenly pressed into the couch. holy shit. you appreciate the initiative, wrapping your legs around his waist, readjusting your grip on his shoulders.

‘need you a little faster than that darling,’ large hands digging into the couch either side of your head. you’d feel utterly mortified if you weren’t thoroughly enjoying the sight of him looming over you, his hair falling beautifully into your face.

eddie starts slow at first, moving his hips slowly, obviously well versed. your mouth opens but no noise escapes, well aware that you weren’t the only ones in your house. instead you pant softly, desperate for his lips to grace yours again.

it’s not long before he’s quickening his pace, unable to contain himself when you feel so perfect around him. ‘i missed you- fuck, i’ve missed you so much,’ he groans, keeping his voice low despite wanting to start screaming.

you don’t reply, too fucked-out to even think about words. eyes drooping as his cock nudges against the soft spongy spot no one other than him had been able to reach.

the couch creaks beneath you, the old thing unable to keep up with his rutting hips, the top of your head knocking into the arm rest every time his hips collided with yours. your living room had never bore witness to such filth and as quiet as you were trying to be, the sounds are indistinguishable.

having to bite down onto your lip when his thumb meets your clit, legs tightening around his waist with every soft circle he draws around the sensitive bud. eddie was never bad in bed but holy shit, maybe money had done something right for him.

he sits up, soft sighs falling out of his lips as his hand disconnects from your clit, sliding toward your knee and positioning your leg onto his shoulder. your nails press into his forearm, willing yourself to stay quiet even now he’s seemingly trying to kill you.

and through it all, he’s smirking. relishing the way you’re writhing around, trying not to cum when he nudges against that sweet, spongy spot this position allowed.

his thumb finds your clit again, ‘holy shit sweetheart.. you gonna cum?’ grunting softly with every thrust.

you’re positively wrecked beneath him, face pressed into the couch cushion as your stomach flips. panting into the fabric, incoherent ramblings of eddie’s name and a bunch of curse words fill the room.

‘cum for me baby.. shit,’ struggling to keep his own pace as you tighten around him, leg trembling around his neck as your orgasm takes over. pleasure overtaking your limbs as your hips buck instinctively, thankfully muffled by the couch.

‘oh my god,’ you breathe, struggling to see straight when your eyes eventually reopen, gazing up at eddie above, certain he’s about to draw blood from his teeth digging in to his lip.

‘where.. where shall i- shit,’ he squeezes out, feeling his hips begin to stutter, eyes rolling to the back of his head. he’s just about quick enough to pull out, thick ropes of cum paint your thighs. narrowly avoiding the couch.

if you had the energy to get annoyed, you would’ve snapped, but in all honesty, your brain was still reeling and anger was the last thing you felt.

eddie reaches over, ever the gentleman and grabs his shirt to clean his mess. didn’t matter to him obviously, he had more than enough money to buy another.

and there it is. the bitterness filling your body again the second he’s no longer on top of you, or inside of you rather. you attempt to bite it down.

‘you wanna talk now?’ he asks, pulling his boxers back up to a more respectable position.

‘i’m tired eddie,’ and you are, on a school night like tonight you’d have been fast asleep by now.

he sighs, shoulders slumping over. even after you’d just had the most mind-altering sex, you couldn’t speak to him. ‘please,’ pleading with you almost, desperate for one more chance.

maybe it’s the exhaustion or maybe the dopamine still pumping through your brain but you concede, pulling your shirt back over your head before motioning for him to speak.

‘i don’t have any excuses, i’m just-,’ he sighs, turning on the couch to face you fully, ‘i’m sorry for hurting you, i was wrong and i know that,’ his eyes are dipped, peering at you from underneath his spindly lashes, ‘why d’you think i’ve avoided this place for so long?’

‘i don’t know? because you’re a pussy? because you’re too scared to face me?’ letting the words rattle off your tongue without much thought.

‘because i’m embarrassed,’ he corrects, without much offence, ‘because i’m ashamed and feel like i owe you more than some dick and a shitty apology.. i just didn’t know how i could ever make it up to you,’ half-moon eyes glossy in the low light.

your heart thumps in your chest, blood echoing through your ears. eddie munson, world renowned rockstar was sat on your couch, apologising for something you should’ve forgotten about a long time ago.

the years of hatred and avoidance come tumbling down in a millisecond. all you’d ever wanted was to hear him say sorry. to admit that he’d fucked you over for a life of fame and now you had it, you weren’t exactly sure what to even do with it.

‘okay.. now what? are you gonna make it up to me? because i want to believe you eddie, i do.. but you can’t just traipse in here and expect me to forgive you like that,’ the tears roll over, sliding down your warm cheeks.

he nods, grabbing onto your hands in a last ditch gesture to show his sincerity, ‘i’m going to.. i-i want to,’ he’s still nodding, bringing his face closer to yours, ‘tell me how, i’ll do anything,’ adam’s apple bobbing with every word.

‘stay here,’ your eyes are trained on him, ignoring the blurred vision, ‘not forever, just for now,’ lips pursed, ready to be broken once more.

you half-expect him to come out with some sorry excuse, tell you he had to get back to his hotel so he couldn’t possible stay here.

but he doesn’t.

eddie takes your hand, tugging it gently and with words you don’t register, babbles something about bed. so you follow him, allowing him to guide you to your room and slide in between the sheets next to you.

everything is so gentle, soft and pure. something you hadn’t felt in a long time.

-

‘hey.. sweetheart,’ eddie’s hand gently shakes your arm, whispering into your ear, ‘you awake?’

you squint in the dim light, feeling his hand descend onto your waist, chest pressed against your back, ‘i am now,’ you grumble, it was early.. early even by ella’s standards.

‘i gotta go.. you got work today?’ he asks, making no effort to actually get up and leave your bed though.

you nod into the pillow, rubbing your sleep heavy eyes. in your sleep hazed state, you shuffle, moving backwards against him.

‘okay.. shit- don’t do that,’ strained as you shift against him, unknowingly brushing against his cock, ‘i’ll be back.. after you..’ he’s losing it a little now, ‘after you finish..’ lips pressed to your ear.

you were moving deliberately now, just ever-so-slightly rocking your hips back and forth, you could feel him growing against your ass.

‘i can’t..’ he groans, grip tightening on your hip,

‘please,’ you breathe, reaching backwards to find his mop of curls, taking a fistful for leverage as his own hip’s thrust into your backside, his low growls only spurring you on.

you had been on your own for so long now, could he really blame you?

eddie doesn’t leave for another hour, creeping out of your house with his head low and a shit eating grin plastered on his face.

-

the key turns in your door as you’re loading the dishwasher. you’d given steve a spare for emergencies but it seemed to get used for anything but.

he slinks into the kitchen where you stand with your back to him, ‘hey,’ already knowing who it was.

‘well hello,’ announcing his presence, something about his tone of voice already seemed off, he sounded short, annoyed almost, ‘how have you been?’

‘i’m good..’ you spin to face him, puzzled by his strange demeanour, ‘how are you?’

he’s holding onto something behind his back but you can’t quite catch a glimpse, ‘actually.. i’m a little pissed off,’ you can tell he’s not completely serious by the hint of a smile on his face.

‘hmm? why’s that?’

he looks around the room expectedly, ‘oh i don’t know.. you don’t have anything to tell me, do you?’ shaking his head, still gripping onto this mystery object.

‘no..’ narrowing your eyes, determining whether he knew what you thought he knew.

he did, he one hundred percent did. holy fuck. he’d figured you out already. eddie had opened his big, stupid mouth and told dustin, who would’ve told steve and god knows who else. fucking moron.

‘no? soo..’ his pulls the magazine from behind his back, flipping it to the page he’d already saved, ‘this isn’t real then?’ shoving the glossy pages into your face, ‘because to me.. this looks an awful lot like eddie.. at this very house,’ he jabs his finger at the pixelated image, ‘and this little blob here.. that’s you, no?’

you’re utterly gobsmacked. mouth hung open in pure shock. because that most definitely was eddie.. and your house.. and you. you hadn’t seen anyone with a camera, hell, you hadn’t seen anyone on the street at all.

‘and correct me if i’m wrong, but is this not our friend eddie leaving your house the next morning?’ showing the next image of him leaving your house the day after, hair unruly and messed up, holding his denim jacket in his arms as he climbs into his car.

your mouth moves but no words come out, croaking as you struggle to meet steve’s eyes. completely speechless, there was no feasible excuse. you had been caught with your pants down. literally.

‘i can explain,’ waving your hands around while steve stands smug against the kitchen counter. ‘..no i can’t,’ shoulders slumped as you blink at your best friend, no you really couldn’t. suppose you could’ve come up with some lie about a look-a-like you’d been seeing but that would’ve made you look particularly strange.

‘were you ever gonna tell me?’ he’s almost hurt that you hadn’t ran to him to tell him immediately. this was true best friend gossip and you’d kept him from it.

‘i was! steve.. i don’t even know what happened- he came over to apologise and then we were arguing and then.. then we had sex and it’s not my fault..’ you’re trying, and failing, to contain your smile, flashing your cheeky grin to your best friend in the hopes he would let this slide.

‘i can’t believe you didn’t tell me!’ jutting his bottom lip out, ‘so, you’re getting back together?’ his eyes sceptical yet sparkling with a sense of hope. you’re grateful that all he seems to care about is the fact you lied. or actually, withheld the truth as you preferred it.

‘no.. well.. no, we had dinner together yesterday and he might’ve stayed over but no..’ shaking your head, ‘he’s leaving again soon and we both know what happened last time..’ you shrug, leaning back against the counter, ‘i guess i don’t hate him now, that’s good isn’t it?’

steve looks perplexed, ‘wait wait wait.. so you’re just.. screwing around? and then he leaves again, that’s it? what’s the point?’ taking a seat at the small kitchen table, fully engrossed in the conversation.

‘i dunno.. i guess that’s it?’ you hadn’t really thought about the fact that he’d be leaving again, in fact, you hadn’t really had time to think much at all about what was happening.

you’d just sort of acknowledged that at some point he’d go back to california and you’d stay here and whatever was happening would.. end? it wasn’t as if you were going to be super upset about it like you once were. lots of people fuck their ex’s.. this was fine.

because that’s what this is, right?

just sex with an ex?

‘that’s it?’ steve reiterates, looking completely flabbergasted that the woman who once left the room whenever eddie munson’s name was mentioned was now being so casual about this.

‘yeah,’ you shrug, not wanting to make a massive deal out of it though you could always rely on steve to be over dramatic on your behalf.

‘no,’ he straightens up in the chair, ‘all of this can’t be for nothing,’ sounding utterly exasperated, ‘you two obviously belong together so why don’t you go for it? i could see you living it up out in la.. big house, big car-,’

you cut him off before he can divulge into his delusions any further, ‘i think you’re getting ahead of yourself steve,’ shaking your head at his ludicrous attitude.

you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about it once or twice but it seemed silly to start imagining this crazy life together after all these years. he’d barely just made it into your good graces again, you were hardly going to run off to california with him. it was utter delusion.

‘okay okay..’ he scoffs, ‘but i still think you need to talk to him. i don’t want you getting hurt again, okay? just make sure that you’re both on the same page,’ nodding as he stands from his seat and begins to rummage through your cupboards for something to eat.

he was probably right and you knew it deep down. you weren’t keen on being the one to bring the conversation up, not after that first night. after you had sobbed in his arms in bed, letting him soothe you to sleep with a bunch of probable empty promises.

-

when eddie lets himself into your house a few hours later, steve’s eyebrows fly up his forehead but he doesn’t say a word. instead, he nods at the man, keeping his opinions to himself.

the pair of you resemble an old married couple, except you’re the grumpy old man with your wife cuddled into your side. your wife being steve that is.

‘oh.. is this uh, something that happens often?’ eddie asks, settling into the empty chair across from you. slightly miffed that steve was nestled into your side.

‘yup,’ you nod, smiling at him your chin resting on steve’s head. he hadn’t a reason to be jealous, you’d really rather poke your eyeballs out with a fork than do anything remotely sexual with steve.

‘right.. yeah okay,’ eddie says, looking perplexed but sitting back in the chair. if he was going to stick around then this would have to be something that he got used to. because you sure as hell weren’t going to stop being so close with steve for the guy that broke your heart at eighteen.

‘you want a drink?’ you ask, realising that you should probably be a good host even if it was only eddie.

‘yeah sure.’

you untangle yourself from steve and trundle off into the kitchen. steve takes this as the perfect opportunity to grill eddie on his intentions, sitting up straight and making sure that you were really gone before beginning his interrogation.

‘so.. you two?’

eddie shrugs, not wanting to get into it with steve after such a long day.

steve sighs, leaning toward eddie, ‘i’m gonna say this once.. but if you hurt her again, i will kill you,’ staring the other man down. contempt in his eyes. he was dead serious too.

‘i’m not- i’m not gonna hurt her,’ eddie sits up, praying that you’d hurry back with this damn drink.

‘i mean it eddie,’ raising his eyebrows, ‘you didn’t see how she was after you left.. i’m not going through that again, i’m not letting her go through that again.’

‘steve-,’ eddie blinks, stopping himself as you re-enter the room. hoping that you hadn’t heard their conversation, he’d only just got you to stop hating him. he wasn’t prepared to go back to that like, ever.

‘what’re you talking about?’ placing the bottle of beer in front of eddie and collapsing back into your spot on the couch.

‘football,’ steve answers quickly, groaning as he pushes himself off of the sofa, ‘i’m gonna head home, got work in the morning but i’ll see you tomorrow,’ he smiles, winking at you from above.

‘okay,’ you utter, sounding more like a question than a statement, watching carefully as he gathers his things without so much as a glance at eddie. you can only imagine what was actually said but that was truly none of your business.

you’d just grill eddie later to make sure steve hasn’t been too much of an asshole.

‘byee,’ you call out behind him, already eyeing a sheepish eddie. this’d probably be it. you’d known it was coming at some point, you just weren’t sure of when.

if steve’s sudden departure was anything to go off, you were probably right.

the door clicks shut and you turn your attention to eddie who was still sat on the solemn chair. oh god. maybe you had got a little used to having him around again and now to know that it’d all be coming to an abrupt end once again.. yeah you felt a tad shit.

‘what’d you say?’ you ask outright, it made zero sense to beat around the bush.

‘me?’ he looks almost offended, ‘i didn’t say shit.. didn’t get the chance to,’ but he’s smiling ever so slightly and your heart relaxes.

christ you were so stupid. letting him back into your life just to let him walk away a second time. perhaps you’d done something horrific in a past life to deserve this same fate twice.

‘so what did he say?’ you press, unsure of if your even wanted the answer.

eddie sighs before coming to collapse on the couch next to you, ‘it wasn’t important.. look, i wanna be honest with you,’ his hand comes to grab yours and you freeze, bracing yourself for what was inevitably going to come next. ‘you mean a lot to me and.. and i don’t want you to think that i don’t care or that i’m just leaving you again,’ his eyes are focussed on yours, full of what you hope is sincerity.

you don’t reply, instead you nod slightly and urge him to continue. this was it. the kicker. 

‘i’ve gotta go back to la next week,’ his grip tightens around your hand, ‘but i’m coming back as soon as i can, okay?’ he’s serious too and you’d like to believe him but if the past was anything to go by, you weren’t eager.

you nod silently. fuck this. once again, you were sat before eddie munson, listening to his plans to jet off to la. it felt like the cruelest case of deja-vu. if anything, you want to kick yourself for even allowing him to wiggle his way back into your heart. most people know better after the first time.

‘it’s three weeks.. maybe a month, but i’m coming back, i promise,’ he pleads, hanging his head low. he knows there’s absolutely nothing he could say to you that would make you believe him but he had to try.

you hum, frowning just a little before finally replying, ‘i’ve heard that before,’ not meaning to sound as snarky as you did, but it was true.

‘i’m serious, i’m not.. not gonna lose you again, i’ve learnt my lesson,’ his eyes are big and pleading and you’re thrown right back to being eighteen, listening to him convince you how going to la would be the best decision.

‘so.. what? you’re gonna come back to hawkins just to see me? i don’t-,’ you sigh, as much as you wanted to believe him, it just wasn’t plausible in your mind, ‘i just don’t understand, are we together or are you just coming back to fuck? you don’t have to, you know? i’ve made peace with it all and i’m fine.. you don’t have to lie to me anymore.’

if anyone was going to fuck this up, it would be you. that’s for certain.

‘what the fuck?’ he exclaims, genuinely flabbergasted, ‘this is me telling you that i’m serious about this.. about you,’ he takes your hand into his properly, scooting around to face you fully, ‘i love being here with you, and ella and there is nothing out in la worth more than this,’ you think he might just start crying, or you might. or perhaps both of you.

you sniff, not wanting to speak in fear of bursting into hysterics. it was all just so confusing and weird. you’d grown accustomed to eddie being on the other side of the country and now suddenly he was back in your life with what seemed like a a declaration of love. it was just too much to handle. and maybe you blame yourself a little, for not truly thinking about the implications of fucking your ex that had abandoned you years prior. but now it all just seemed to be hurtling in the most intense direction.

you were the one that had told him to stay after all. because really, you could’ve kicked him out, refused to ever even acknowledge him again. but you hadn’t.

‘are you telling me the truth?’ is all that you manage to squeak out. baring resemblance to a small child.

you really must’ve looked pathetic, eyes brimming with tears, bottom lip quivering as you hold in the implosion of emotions. it’s always scary being vulnerable with someone, let alone someone that once meant so much to you.

he still did. as much as you’re absolutely petrified to admit it, he’d weaselled his way back into your heart and now here you are, a mess of emotions and perplexing feelings that are too complicated to handle.

‘i promise you,’ he sighs, clearly fed up of your whining, ‘i’m coming back this time.’

and maybe you’re stupid. maybe you’re still hung up on some high school relationship that ended long ago but you can’t help it, you nod.

idiotically believing him because what else can you do after letting him into your home and your heart again.

[konigbabe]

eleusinian mysteries

DAY 7 ⇢ Gangbang Pairing: Satoru Gojo x fem!reader x Toji Fushiguro x Kento Nanami x Choso Kamo Word count: 4k Tags/warnings: no y/n; smut; gangbang; oral sex (F & M receive); p-in-v; anal sex (F receive only); pure filth; fingering; cunnilingus; rimming; deepthroat/throatfucking; praise kink; protected sex; ass slaping (like once); pet names (each one calls you differently); basically 4 men 1 female gangbang Summary: How did you find yourself passed around by four men might remain a mystery; at least it's off of your bucket list now. [Part of NSFW Gojo Week 2023]. Divider is mine. A/N: With NSFW Week oficially over with this piece, I wanted to give special thanks to the radiant Fae (@kennedyswhore) for her unconditional support [that kept me from dropping the event], sublime Kit (@vagabond-umlaut) for her encouraging and kind words (that subconciously pushed me to finish each piece), Karma (@kazushawty) who infected my mind with her filth (in a good way) that resulted in this mess (and kudos to her tutorial for this GIF) and to you, who's reading this [series]. Thank you for the support! ♡

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There's a thin line between reality and a dream – which can easily be blurred. Especially when the present blends with the past and gets a hold of the future within its grasp.

"What's this?"

Satoru lies spread wide on the bed; torso bared to the world and stretched out, his physique like an invitation to explore. Especially with the way the moon casts its shine onto the mop of silvery strands that crown his head.

With a soft sigh, you position one knee on the plush expanse of the bed, flicking your eyes on your lover. His curious fingers dance towards the petite diary on your nightstand; a beacon of secret desires nestled in the soft glow of tonight's moonlight.

"A journal," you reply, "of sorts," the mumble that leaves your lips is faint, tinged with skepticism. Unease. Shame maybe – even.

"Can I?" With the book already ensconced in his slender fingers, he throws you a questioning look. Seeks your permission. Your silent approval is conveyed through a gentle dip of your chin.

Satoru unfurls the pages. Flips through them. Hair clinging to his forehead, eyes darting across each paragraph and list; he takes his time reading, studying each entry. Flipping through the pages, you notice the crease between his eyebrows deepen as he reaches the last page.

The last page.

There are no hidden feelings between you. You are an open book for him – now in a more literal sense than ever before.

"This page's interesting," he mumbles to himself, yet his words reach your ears clearly. And you know what he means. A warm flush sweeps across your cheeks, causing your eyes to divert towards the sheets, where your nervous fingers fiddle with the fabric, "is this a bucket list?"

His utterance is clear, and you grasp the implication quickly.

"Yeah, well, everyone has dreams."

You feel the bed on your side dip. Satoru shifts, sits up, the sheets cascading around his lithe waist. Warm breath fans over your cheeks, adding fuel to the fire smoldering beneath your skin. His hand finds its way onto your exposed thigh, thumb caressing the damp skin.

"Yours are rather," searching for the right descriptor, the hand that was on your thigh now slips underneath your chin, gently lifting it to align your gaze with the deep, cerulean depths of his eyes, "provocative."

Filthy. That'd be more fitting, you think.

The answer on the tip of your tongue refuses to budge.

"I like that," he adds after a while. "And if you want," sitting straight, his face now stands in front of you, a breath away, "we can do number three now."

When you don't respond – only watch his face inch closer, lips hover over the curve of yours – he licks a thin stripe across your lower lip.

"And I can arrange number seven if you want," he mumbles against your lips, pushing your face towards his.

How such a simple conversation led to this will probably remain a bit of a head–scratcher. How Satoru managed to have all of them agree to this will be a mystery. Maybe he has a knack for bringing out people's hidden desires or a way of making everyone comfortable enough to do this.

But these thoughts don't really stick in your mind. Especially with the way Nanami's tongue continues to lick thick stripes over your drenched walls. Back flat against the table, legs up and spread wide. Toji keeps a vice grip on one of your ankles with Choso gripping the other one – the two men keeping your legs open for the blonde man to devour you comfortably.

You'd never imagine there would be a day when all of them would see you like this.

And that there would come a day when you discover the taste of each of their lips; the unique sensation each of their kiss can bring.

Satoru you were familiar with – hungry. Sloppy. Messy. Remaining filled with passion even after years of familiarity. Holding your face with both his hands, cradling your cheeks. Like the first plunge into a lukewarm sea that turns into swirling foam – enveloping and capricious. He always speaks with his entire body; grinding up against you and wrapping his arms around your back. A boisterous lover.

Nanami – Nanami's kiss, on the other hand, is a contrast to Satoru's intensity. It's precise, measured, and full of depth. A slow dance of passion; like the waltz. His hand comes to your face and cups your chin, lifting your head up just the slightest amount of space so that when his lips meet yours, they nestle in there perfectly. His lips meet yours with a calculated tenderness. There's a sense of control and mastery in his kiss, and it leaves you with a feeling of being cherished and understood.

Toji – like a storm. Wild and untamed, coming out of nowhere with an intensity that left you breathless. An untamed force that sweeps you off your feet. Fingers gripping your chin with iron strength, thumb pushing against your lower lip to part for him more. Tongue both demanding and teasing, as if he can't decide whether to be gentle or let the beast out. The taste of danger and desire both eminent on his lips.

And Choso – the perfect blend of sweetness and ardor. His kiss is unexpectedly tender, considering his broad, rough exterior. A hand resting on your nape, not pushing or anything, with the other sliding up and down your arm; making you feel like he had waited a lifetime for this moment and wanted to savor the warmth of your skin under his palms. He tastes like moonlight on bare skin.

So when all four kiss you, the sensation is a whirlwind – a summer storm. A combination of the intensity of Satoru's kiss, the depth of Nanami's, the wildness of Toji's, and the tenderness of Choso's.

"Mmph–fuck," Toji rumbles, teeth showing in a grimace as nails dig into the flesh of your calf. Your fingers tighten around his base when you feel Nanami's fingertips collect your wetness, spread your lips apart before his finger teases your open hole.

You want to answer, urge Nanami to finally let go of the restraints – feeling like hours have passed since he went down on his knees and buried his face between your legs. Yet it's hard to do so when Satoru's cock plunges into your mouth. So deep in your mouth that you can barely breathe as he thrusts it into you; our lips and the back of your throat rubbing raw against its pulsing flesh. You feel him hit a soft barrier and push harder.

Hands slide across your chest. Slick with saliva before the softness of someone's lips envelops one of your nipples. A kiss, soon followed by a nip of teeth. Gentle, exploring – Choso, you guess. Compared to how Toji keeps squeezing the other one. All rough and fast, his thumb flicking over your erect nipple whenever your finger presses against his slit.

"Daamn, baby," you pick up Satoru's mumbles. And with your head thrown over the table's edge, you manage to look up. To see the underside of his chin, see how he's looking up; how his hand continues to caress your hollowing cheek, thumb collecting the tears that spill over your waterline.

A moan slips past the tight seal of your lips when Nanami's finger is finally buried all the way inside your drenched cunt. You arch against him, hips grinding against his moving hand before another one presses down onto your lower belly.

"Don't move, love," Nanami's voice echoes, hot breath skittering over your wet folds moving to your aching nub, "just let me prep you."

You tighten your grip – both of them – which only earns you deep grunts. Choso's teeth swipe over the tender flesh of your breast, over the soon-to-be bruise forming upon his attack. Tongue swirling over the silk-soft skin, making it stiffen with prickly heat. Your moan and twitch at the touch.

Toji flicks your nipple, rolls it between his fingers. Eyes drawn onto the sight before him. On the way your body lies completely bared; body offered on a platter of lustful ecstasy, like a sacred offering.

As Nanami's hand slides inside of you, heat spreads through every inch of your body. His fingers are merciless, relentlessly adding another finger and curling them both up to press against your walls. Searching for that sweet spot, that one point of ecstasy that will have you seeing stars.

"Baby," Satoru whines, thumb pressing against the corner of your mouth to draw your attention to him, "gonna cum. Think you can swallow me?"

Your hands continue to slide up and down Choso's and Toji's cocks, each on either side of you. Satoru stops moving, the throbbing tip of his cock resting on your upper palate. Your tongue swipes over his leaking slit, collecting the briny, pearlescent droplets before swallowing.

"Mhm," you attempt to nod, taking a deep breath through your nose.

"Good," Satoru responds, holding you in place by digging his fingers into the nape of your neck as his cock expands against your throat walls, pushing every nerve ending until a burning pleasure washes over you.

You can feel the heat spreading through your body, coalescing in the space between your legs.

Nanami's fingers continue to massage your walls, pressing against that slightly ridged spot deep inside – the one that tightens your throat, makes you clamp down on his fingers, grip Choso and Toji tighter. Everyone feeling your pleasure rise–

Satoru stills inside you. And you feel him spill. All hot and heavy; flowing over your tongue and melting on your taste buds like an ice cream cone in the summer sun. Tengy but savory.

–and rise until the dam breaks. Warmth flooding your nerves, overwhelming your senses until you surrender to it completely.

Nanami doesn't stop moving. Instead he speeds up, his fingers working you over until you are soaked in sweat; not a single inch of your skin dry or cool.

Fucking you through the first orgasm of the night while Satoru withdraws from your mouth. A feral groan escapes his lips as he watches scant droplets of his cum escape your mouth and rustle down the side of your cheek, smearing the sensuous skin with slick fluids that threaten to drip into your eyes. He leans down and sweeps up the droplets; plunging his sticky fingers deep inside your mouth.

All while the azure depths of his eyes lock onto your hazy gaze, you watching the upside down image of your boyfriend.

"You're so good," he praises, withdrawing his fingers and licking them clean. You can taste it on his tongue; the saltiness, the sweetness of his spent, "ready for the real fun?"

Nanami's fingers scratch your quivering walls once last time. His lips – soft and velour – press against your opening, tongue teasingly licking along the entrance before he stands up.

"Mhm–definitely," you murmur and watch. Watch as Nanami stands up, torso sculpted into perfection. Muscles rippling under pale skin, the veins visible beneath the surface. Your fingers itch, coming closer until the tip of your middle finger nudges against the graven abdomen.

His hips pitch forward upon your touch. Hand tightening around his cock as he gives it a few pumps.

You want it. Want him. Want to feel the stretch as he sinks inside.

"Condoms," Satoru chimes in from your side, stern but only reminding everyone as his hand strokes your cheek. Nanami grips your thighs to spread your legs wider for him. Nodding, he reaches to your side, grabbing one from the small stack of them you prepared beforehand.

With one hand on your inner thigh, her rips open the foil packet with his teeth and rolls it down the length of his leaking cock.

"Ready," he asks to which you nod.

The burn is intense, numbing as you're filled in one smooth motion. His cock feels even better than you imagined it would; slick and hot inside you. You can feel every inch of him, every inch that fills you up. His hands tighten around your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he stays still.

A mewl cascades past your parted lips. Body shifting, seeking more friction; movement. Nanami responds with a roll of his hips – exploring. Testing whether you opened up for him enough. And when he feels the unrestrained slide of his cock inside you, he can't help it any more. At first it's slow, shallow thrusts that have you biting your lip in anticipation.

"Fuck, get it over with already Nanami or I'm gonna explode," you hear a gruff voice.

Toji.

"Y'know," it sounds more like a moan rather than words but all four sets of eyes snap to your face, "I have two holes, don't I?"

Nanami shudders against your cunt, and you could swear he got more swollen upon your words. Choso's eyes snap to Satoru as Toji grabs the bottle of lube from the table. Yet Satoru's gaze lingers on your blissful expression.

"You sure about that?"

When he asks, your chest tightens, pulse gallops.

"She's a big girl, she can decide for herself," Toji responds, hand on your hip. He nods at you and then turns to Nanami, who looks up at him. They exchange a few words, a conversation that passes by your ears.

"Hey–"

"Satoru," you interrupt the man by your side, hand reaching upwards to touch the side of his neck, "s'okay. It's a gift for me after all."

You whimper when Nanami's cock slides out; now feeling the emptiness all over again.

"Gonna move this to the couch," Choso retorts–

Everything feels weightless. Surreal. Each kiss a caress, each touch a fire. Your thoughts are muddled, consumed by the need for him. For all of them.

–and soon enough, your legs are spread wide around Nanami's waist, his cock nestled deep inside you. You move in tandem, slow and shallow thrusts as you straddle him. He leans back against the couch, his head hidden in the nook of your neck; while at the same time, Choso stands behind it, with your lips sealed around his dripping tip.

Toji stays crouched behind you. Any other day, your face would burn over the thought – of having someone's finger up your ass. It's a strange feeling – the steady pressure of his middle finger as he twists inside you. Even with the generous amount of lube, it takes Nanami a few good thrusts and encouraging words – You feel good. Relax for us, yeah? – to get you mellowed enough for Toji to add a second finger and scissor them inside.

All while Satoru stands by the doorframe; fully naked, skin pale with pinkish hue. It feels as if he's glowing, radiant, when your eyes open and he's standing in your peripheral vision.

The motion tugs at something deep inside you. And you moan around Choso's cock. Hollowing your cheeks, tongue pressing flat against his underside as you feel pleasure washing the shame away.

Suddenly, Toji's presence leaves your body. Letting go of Choso's cock, you hold it in your hand, thumb swiping over the sensitive slit, earning you a grunt of appreciation as Satoru's eyes lock onto yours – and you feel a small smile tug at your corners before–

"What–"

Something wet slithers around your rim as Nanami stills once again. Teeth nipping at the skin on your clavicles, your lips press momentarily against the ridge of Choso's tip, tasting the saltiness before you use Nanami's shoulders to steady yourself enough to twist around. To look at Toji, crunched down, hands spreading your cheeks apart with face buried between them. His eyes, verdant windows to his carnal soul, glint in the faint luminescence as they look up at you; you can't help but gasp, mouth running dry. His tongue like fire, skin searing under his touch as he swirls around your ass before pushing inside.

"Wait, I–ugh–"

Satoru shifts in the corner of your eyes.

But somehow, it feels good. So fucking good and delightful.

"Relax, not my first rodeo," Toji rumbles when he pulls away, sinking his teeth into the plump flesh of your ass; then he goes back for more.

"Feels weird," you let out a chuckle, nodding in Satoru's direction, "but good." Hand grasping Choso's cock – who's been patiently waiting for your return – you kiss the side of the burning flesh while letting Toji devour you.

Nanami's hands slide from their spot on your hips, tracing the curves and dips of your body; settling around the globes of your breasts. They squeeze the abused flesh, kissing the tender spots. Hips having mind of its own, you circle them on top of him, causing Nanami to grow into your skin.

For what feels like an eternity, you stay this way – squeezing, warming Nanami's cock inside your dripping walls. One hand resting at the back of his head as he kisses your chest, massages your nipples and caresses your sides. The other hand moves along Choso's length, lips tightly wrapped around it as you bob your head, Choso's hand resting on top of your head, gently urging you to take more.

With Satoru watching over it all.

"Good," a sharp slap, sting on your ass when Toji finishes and stands up, "arch your back for me, kitten." His hand presses against your lower back, urging you into position.

Your body curves into Nanami's, like water around a rock.

Nanami spreads his legs more, opening you when Toji spread more lube over his cock. Tugs a few times to spread the slick, sticky substance over the condom, dipping the fingers in your ass to loosen the upcoming friction more.

You expect pain; pain of being stretched to the limit. Yet there's none when the tip of his cock slips past your rim and slowly slips inside you – further and further, until his hips are pressed against your ass.

"Fuck–good girl, ain't ya," Toji mumbles, more for himself as he feels the heat of your insides hug him tightly.

"You're doing great," Nanami's lips brush against the shell of your ear, tone quiet – just for you. "Wanna ride us?"

"Mmph–," you nod. Fingers sliding along Choso's cock, taking him in your mouth when you start to move on your own accord.

Which doesn't last too long as pleasure increases, makes it difficult for you to find a good pace. As if he can feel your struggle, Toji grasps your hips, stabilizing the pace as Nanami moves his hips.

Satoru watches on with a mixture of curiosity and admiration as Nanami starts to move; his cock sliding inside you with ease, meeting up with Toji's pace. You can feel both their cocks pushing deep within you, adding fuel to the fire inside.

Their hands never leave your body, grasping at whatever they can reach.

"Ah–" Choso's hips stutter the moment his cock breaches the entrance to your throat. You keep going, deepening the movement with each plunge. The sensation builds up in seconds, making it impossible to keep still as he grunts your name, feeling himself nearing the edge. "Gonna cum–ugh– damn."

His hands grasp your face, hips rolling forward. You grasp Nanami's shoulders, letting Choso ride out his high, his cum sliding down your throat before he slips out – spent and satisfied – and watches with grateful gaze as you swallow him down, not leaving a droplet to escape.

"Shit–," Toji speaks up after a second, "you just got tighter," and he grips your hips, moving Nanami's hands out the way as the intensity of his thrusts increases. "Look at you. Always knew you were a dirty one."

You can't even respond, just focus on the intense pleasure coursing through your veins. Pulling away, Choso takes a step back; steading yourself on Nanami, using his chest as leverage, you pull back. Back meeting Toji's solid chest, his hand wrapping around the side of your neck while he brings your head to his – cheek to cheek, lips pressed against your ear.

"Would kill to have you cum raw on my cock alone," he mumbles. And you know the reason for the quiet whisper. You can feel Nanami's hands move to your hips, steadying them as he thrusts in time with Toji. Together they create a perfect tempo, pushing you closer.

"Ah, ah–" you moan out as their combined rhythm sends pleasure through you, building up the intensity until it takes over every inch of your body. Until your walls shudder around them, body tensing before you let loose.

Nanami doesn't stay behind; his hands slide up your waist to grip your ribs. He feels you tense around him, and the sound of your name slipping past his gritted teeth echoes in the room as he drops his forehead to your collarbones. With one final thrust, he spills inside the condom with a groan. You can feel the tension in his shoulders relax; as if a weight has been lifted from them.

Still in haze – eyes closed – you let out a small sigh, feeling the last of Nanami's warmth seep out of your body before the scene shifts.

Satoru has you pinned against the wall, Toji standing behind. His hands grip your hips, pushing his hard, slick cock inside your loose asshole while Satoru moves in front of you, taking your face in his hands – his hands move down from your chin to your jaw, then to the side, to the sensitive skin along the bottom of your ear and your collarbone. The strong wide thumb of his right hand presses against the corner of your mouth, gently.

So you open up. Legs supported under Toji's wise grip, you offer yourself to the two. You can feel Toji behind you, his breath hot on your neck as he thrusts back and forth. Teeth marking your nape, electrifying your sensitive body – still high from another climax mere seconds ago, yet neither of the two stopped –

Satoru's lips move to your wet cheek before he inches closer again, lips ghosting yours until the tip of his tongue finds its way inside your mouth – warm and wet – a silent command for you to reciprocate, and you do. You let yourself get lost in his kiss while Toji's hips crash against yours, pushing you both forward.

The sensation is overwhelming – a mixture of pleasure and pain as both men push against each other, letting out groans of pleasure and grunts of delight that blur the line between lustful and loving. Primal and affectionate.

"Fuck–kitten," Toji grumbles, chest vibrating against your back, "gonna cum."

And even with the condom on, you feel it. Feel the sudden rush of warmth as Toji's cock pulsates inside you. His name sounds like a prayer on your tongue when he stills, flexing his arms and spreading you wider for Satoru's harsh thrusts to reach deeper. Pelvis massaging your swollen nub each time he buries himself balls deep inside your cunt – raw, unrestrained, without a barrier. Unlike the rest.

All while Toji relishes in the squeeze of your ass, the snug fit whenever Satoru hits that deepest spot inside you and bullies his cock in your walls (even if he hates to admit it).

The sensation sends your body into a new frenzy and you can feel the tension building up. Again. Watching Satoru's eyes close, the crease between his brows deepen. Hips stuttering, his hand cradles your cheek as he lets go. Your arms sneak around his shoulders, face nestled in the sharp contour of his neck.

(With all the sensations buzzing inside your body, in each nerve, you don't notice Toji leaving silently.)

A strong arm sneaks behind your back, the other placed on the back of your neck. Hips pushing into your softness as he grunts appreciatively; you feel the slickness flood your walls, paint it pearlescent white. He holds you close, whispers sweet nothings into your ear. Heat rolling over your body. His voice like honey and the sound of it alone is enough to bring you back to earth.

Until it all ends in a beautiful mess. A gluttony of pleasure, skin slick and breathless.

And somehow, you want more.

"Think we can do round two."

[anundyingfidelity]

I'M A RUIN — Soldier Boy/Ben (Part I)

Summary: After the events of the Seven Tower, you present Grace Mallory a new secret project you're working on already to develop a cure to Compound V. The only problem? You need Soldier Boy for that.

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x female reader.

Word count: 1,536.

Warnings for series: set after S3 (spoilers), some OOC!Ben, some depressed!Ben, angst, hurt/comfort, eventual smut, slow-burn, language, PTSD, reader has Compound V (she's no Vought supe tho), Soldier Boy being an usual asshole, reader is a fucking liar.

Notes: As soon as I saw him my feminism left my body immediately and my inner voice agreed that I'd let him take away my human rights with no question. He's an absolute idiot, would sleep with him 100%.

Heads up as English is not my native language sooo, yeah you know what follows. Lord pls give me inspo to finish this fic, amen.

☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

get yourself in the taglist!

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII

GEN MASTERLIST! — SERIES MASTERLIST!

Part I: For The Common Good

Two months.

Two months ago Grace Mallory decided to put the former greatest supe into sleep. Somehow, you managed to get in her head, explaining your new project to her and finding a new use for Soldier Boy, who had enough rest for 40 years.

You knew what happened at the Seven Tower, how Soldier Boy and Butcher's team ended up there to finally kill Homelander. Grace tried doing some shit against Vought before, but she never managed to win. It wasn't different this time. What was better then, that to develop a cure for supes like you, who didn't ask for it? People who never used their powers in public, nor seeked fame and money.

As a doctor in Chemistry, you were developing a cure for Compound V with a secret team. Suitable for you, you were in the same CIA tower Colonel Mallory decided to encapsulate Soldier Boy to, initially, spend the rest of his days in. You had luck Grace gave green light to the project, even though your team was already working on it without her approval anyway. But it was so much better if she found out properly.

Making your way to the super secured wing where Soldier Boy was held out of his sleep, you gripped the folder in your hands. You were scanned thoroughly before going inside a cold space, where two different crystal windows and metal doors separated the place. The armed guard guided you to the first room to check first through the window. You sighed, seeing a man sitting down, hands cuffed to a harsh steel table, gaze lost. It was him.

"The keys," you requested the guard by your side.

"Doctor-"

"I said, keys. He doesn't need to be cuffed."

He complied to your order, clearly annoyed but with a straight face and you walked to the closed door.

"If something happens, I can take care of myself. Don't let anyone inside understand?" you said.

He gave a nod. With that, he let you inside the room, the doors closing behind your back.

The prisoner observed you carefully as soon as you entered. His gaze was tired, but he seemed ready to attack, and it was completely hard to ignore his rough stare on you as you made your way to your seat in front of him. Soldier Boy observed you, placing the folder on the surface, and you held his gaze, not flinching for a second. Until you decided to talk first.

"I am glad you're awake. My name is Y/N, I am a doctor at the facility. Just wanna know how you're doing today," you spoke in a calm and soft way, so he could see you were not a threat.

He saw you roaming through the pages of the file, which he recognized as a copy of his file, and you took a pen from your lab coat to make some anotations.

"Not a smart move to let a fucking doctor here," he said with a deep voice, lips forming a straight line. "What do you want?"

"I want to help you."

"Cut the bullshit."

"I want to talk. If you let me, I will uncuff you so we can have a chat, like civilized people. Just don't try to escape, you won't go too far."

He raised an eyebrow as you reached his wrists and carefully, you set him free from the metal grip.

"I know what happened with Butcher and his boys," you said, confident that he would not try anything else. "About Homelander and your relationship with him."

"What the fuck do you know?" Soldier Boy tensed visibly hearing the name of the bastard. Still, he remained on his seat. "Want some info? You can lick Grace's pussy for that."

"She is, actually, the one who approved me to be here right now," you answered, brushing off his vocabulary. You used to deal with assholes like him all the time.

He scoffed. "Why?"

"Ben," you called his real name softly. "You've been sleeping for four decades. You deserve a second chance, I am offering you that. In some sort of way."

"I'm not going to be part of that freakshow-"

"This has nothing to do with Vought," you cut his words, his tone rising and you knew perfectly why. "You just need to be here in the facility, awake, in a dignified place we will give you so you can learn everything you missed. We can give you therapy, a comfy room, anything you want that's legal, of course..."

His jaw clenched, feeling you would ask for something more. "In exchange of what?"

"I know it's hard, unfortunately you won't be able to get out, but you don't deserve to sleep forever again," you sighed. "I will pay you visits and follow your improvements because you're human, after all. That's all I ask from you," you gave him a smile for the first time.

For a few moments, he said nothing, as if making up his mind about it. "Alright, anything but coming back to that shit hole. I need reefer though."

"Lucky you, that's legal now. We can certainly make it happen."

He looked around the room as you let him go inside first. Not the fanciest, not the shittiest. It had the basics: a bed, a sofa, a TV, a closet, a bookshelf with different books, magazines and newspapers he wasn't sure would read any time, a separate door for a bathroom, enough privacy, and no windows though. It wasn't really a cell, but he did look and felt somehow like a hostage. Just a little less if he could say.

"This is what we have for now, I am all ears if you request something else to have in here," you began as he paced around and tested the bed, sitting down on the mattress.

Ben still wasn't convinced on why you offered this to him. Sceptic, he gave a good look at you, roaming his eyes at your standing figure in a fucking lab coat. Christ, he hated those. Too pretty for a doctor, but too dumb to be locked with a supe like him. He was so tired that he didn't try and hit on you like he normally would with any walking pussy that appeared in plain sight. He was too exhausted to even give a shit.

"Lemme think about it, doctor."

"Of course, take your time," you replied as he walked toward the bookshelf, scanning through the titles there were. He recognized only half of them.

"So, I will be imprisoned here instead of a fucking eggshell," Ben said, turning around to meet you. "Charming," he smirked, dragging the words out of his mouth. "Doing charity."

He watched your face drop as you shook your head. "It's not like that-"

"Then why keep me awake?" Ben insisted as he gave steps to get close to you. "I can't die, it's much easier to force my sleep in a capsule your boss made specially for me."

He stopped mere inches in front of you, your eyes never turned away from him. He thought you were fucking brave just by keeping his dark gaze.

"Ben, I told you I will be watching your progress. You can grow from all of this with our help-"

"What kind of doctor are you?"

"A psychiatrist. That's why I'm here."

Ben scoffed with a grin showing on his lips. He didn't believe in that kind of shit, but oh, well. What was he gonna do about it? He was tired of sleeping, Mallory captured him, and you were here, giving him a shelter for no cost, but his freedom. In his mind, that was temporary of course. With time, a plan would come. Right now, he just needed to keep up with the fucked up things of the modern world.

"I guess you would come and babysit me then," he said, going back to take a sit on the bed.

"Wouldn't use 'babysit you' but I will come to see you, that's for sure."

He nodded. Silence was his answer, so you continued.

"Just general rules. Our people will bring you three meals a day, if you're missing something that you need then just push the button by the door, there will be guards outside to assist you on that. Also, there are clothes your size on the closet and personal products so you can change and take a shower," he stayed silent again, just taking in your words. "If you don't need anything then I leave you to get comfortable," you said, about to leave.

"Wait. I do need something," he hesitated for a moment, but he continued anyway. "Don't use those lab coats when you come in."

Your eyes widened, he quickly realised you already knew why he was requesting that when you started to take off the coat, revealing your formal attire. You wrapped the coat on your arm and cleaned your throat.

"I totally understand, I will keep that in mind when I come tomorrow. And I will ask for your reefer too."

You flashed a final polite smile and left him to get settled. Ben breathed out. Fuck, he really needed a shower.

[lincolndjarin]

Best Kept Secret

chapter seven : just friends (RE-UPLOAD)

ao3 link ✿ series masterlist ✩ main masterlist ✧

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 3.1k

summary : you set some ground rules

warnings, etc. : language, smut, oral sex m!receiving

A/N : i had to change accounts so this is a re-upload of my ongoing fic bks!!

Maker it feels like it’s been an hour and you’re both just laying here. He was just inside of you; it shouldn't be so hard to find something to talk about at this point. Yet you can’t think of a single thing to say. So you sit up on your elbows and sigh, hoping he’ll take the hint and speak up but all he does is mimic your movements. 

For a guy who was being pretty dominant a little while ago he sure is bad at taking control of the situation.

“Could you, um… maybe grab me a towel from the vanity?” Your voice is still a little hoarse as you gesture to his cum on your stomach. He nods as he stands, tucking himself back into his pants as he grabs you a rag before quickly returning and crouching next to the bed, gently wiping your stomach clean. He carefully reaches up and lays you back down before dragging the rag between your legs eliciting a groan from you as you wince slightly. 

“Sorry, I should have gone a little slower…” He throws the rag down before he starts rummaging through his pile of things. That makes you sit up straight, watching him as he pulls out a small canteen, passing it to you. “Drink mesh’la.” 

Your heart flutters.

That’s not good. 

“Okay. We need to set some ground rules.” You open the canteen and drink down a few sips of water before clearing your throat, handing it back to him. He closes it as he starts reattaching all of his equipment. Making you a little self conscious about your nudity as you wrap the blanket around yourself.

“Rules?” He pulls his cowl back over his helmet as he stands, walking back over to the bed to sit next to you. 

You need to put some distance between the two of you. Or at least as much distance is possible while still allowing him to have his way with you. 

“ This. ” You gesture at him. “You, calling me those things. You can’t do that, if this is gonna be a thing you cannot do that.”

“I’m not sure what you mean?” He lets out a small chuckle. 

You stand up, clutching the sheet around you before going to the dresser to find new pajamas. Turning back around to point at him once you grabbed something. 

“If this is going to be a recurring thing then we need to have rules. Now turn around so I can change.” He scoffs but he turns to face the wall as you drop the sheet, pulling the night gown over your head before going to sit back down next to him. 

“So this is going to be a recurring thing?” The way he says it with such mock seduction has you rolling your eyes as you reach over to the nightstand for The Smitten Paladin and a pen. 

“Not if you keep acting like that.” You open to the back cover and click the pen. “So I propose we come up with some rules.” He nods slowly. 

“Okay… what kind of rules?” He sounds a little skeptical as he watches you scrawl on the page. 

No Romance. 

“Nothing romantic.” You stab the pen down to put a period at the end of it. “This is purely sex so no lovey-dovey stuff.” You hold your hand up in front of the helmet. Your wedding ring shimmering in the lamp light. 

“Like the nicknames?” He asks, visor trained on the ring as you lower your hand back down. 

“Like the nicknames. We aren’t romantically involved so I don’t want to hear you calling me things like sarad’ika or mesh’whatever. None of that. I’ll allow it during sex but otherwise don’t bother.” 

“You’ll allow it? It seemed to me like you really liked it when I called you those things.” He snakes his arm around your waist, pulling you closer.

You bring the pen down to the page again. 

This is Purely Stress Relief. 

“Stress relief?” You can practically hear his eyebrows raising.

“Clearly, we’re both a little stressed. You’re busy watching me all day and I’m busy not being sexually satisfied by my husband. Therefore, this little arrangement will provide us both with stress relief. Keep us from being at each other's throats.” 

“So what… I’m supposed to just… satisfy your needs every time you get a little cranky?” His hands are taking the book and pen from you now. “You’re making me sound like some kind of prostitute.” 

“Do you have a problem with that?” You cock an eyebrow at him and he hesitates. 

“No I guess not.” He looks down at the page as he starts writing something, you have to scooch closer to him to see. 

the helmet stays on 

He turns to look at you almost for approval, watching as you frown slightly.

“What if I close my eyes?” You say hopefully, nudging his shoulder.

“It doesn’t work like that princess.” His raspy chuckle falling from the filter. “If you accidentally opened them I would never be able to forgive myself for taking it off in the first place.”

“Hmm… What if you cover my eyes with something? Or if it’s really dark?” You give him your best pleading eyes in an attempt to sway him and he sighs as he starts writing again. 

the helmet might come off at MANDO’S DISCRETION 

Good enough.

“Put down no kissing.” You point to the page.

“No kissing?” Maker, you wish he sounded less disappointed. 

“No kissing. It’s too intimate.”

“I was inside you.” He tilts the helmet down to glare at you through the steel. You point at the second rule. 

“That was for stress relief. No kissing, we aren’t a couple. We’re just…”

Shit what are you? He had said you weren’t friends but also you had been arguing… obviously you weren’t together, you were married. And you weren’t attracted to him like that. He’s an asshole, he just so happens to be really good at sex and always around. A convenience. 

“We’re just friends.” He says slowly as if sensing your distress. 

“Exactly. Friends with benefits.” 

“Okay.” He looks back down as he writes. 

no kissing 

if you say stop, i stop 

He hands you the book back to look it over, you nod, taking the pen from him as well. 

“Obviously the same goes for you.” You say, pointing at number six. 

“I won’t ever tell you too.” 

Your face is getting hot. 

“Well if you do I’ll stop.” You have to think for a moment before writing the next rule. 

Don’t Finish Inside Me. 

“Obviously.” He laughs as he looks from the page up to you. 

“Not worth the risk. Especially since this is a casual thing.” You add before writing again. 

No Sleeping Over. 

You raise your eyebrows at him, waiting for a reaction. 

“Are you trying to kick me out?” You can hear his grin. 

“No. Just a little warning though that you won’t be spending the night. It probably wouldn’t be a good look if Elaine and Lysa walk in in the morning and you’re lying next to me.” 

“Smart.” 

“Which leads me to my next point.” You point down to the book with the pen before writing. 

Nobody Knows. 

“Everything I said is true. If we were to get caught the consequences would be catastrophic.” You change your tone to that of a much more serious one as you tap the page carefully. 

“Of course. It’s our little secret.” 

“Exactly.” You close the book. “I think that’s everything.” He takes the book back from you and scrawls one last thing. 

don’t fall in love with me 

You have a hard time holding back a laugh. 

“You’re certainly confident in yourself.” 

“I’m irresistible, princess. It’s bound to happen eventually.” His grip on your waist tightens.

“Trust me. We don’t have to worry about that.” You roll your eyes.

“I’m just saying it’s a possibility. It could happen, and when it does I’ll have to leave for good.” 

“You’re hilarious.” 

What does he mean by that? That he’ll have to leave? You want to ask but he’s already speaking again.

“Just friends.” He holds his hand out for a handshake and you grab it, giving him one firm shake.

“Just friends.” 

This might actually work. You open the book one last time as the two of you look over the list. 

No Romance.

This is Purely Stress Relief. 

the helmet stays on

the helmet might come off at MANDO’S DISCRETION 

no kissing 

if you say stop, i stop 

Don’t Finish Inside Me. 

No Sleeping Over.

Nobody Knows.

don’t fall in love with me

This is easy, you can do this. You can have your cake and eat it too. You get to stay friends with him, stay married, and have your needs met. It’s the perfect plan. 

His fingers are playing with the hem of your nightie.

“So… should I leave now? Or is there anything else you want to do?” 

Should he leave? Yes. Do you want him to leave? No. Now that you know what you’ve been missing out on it’s harder than you thought it’d be to not want more. It looks like he’s already starting to get hard again and it makes your mouth water. 

“Well, you seem like you’re still a little stressed. And according to the rules I should probably fix that.” You’re playing with the belt that goes across his chest as you say it. 

“That is true, we wouldn’t want to break the rules so soon.” His hand starts sliding up your thigh but you gently push it away as you move to kneel in front of the bed between his legs. For once he doesn’t have something snarky to say as the helmet follows you. If you’d known it would be this simple to shut him up you’d have gotten on your knees ages ago. Your fingers play with the zipper of his pants as you rest your elbows on the Beskar covering his thighs. He’s still silent as you smile as innocently as possible. 

You want to tease him. Show him that you can be in charge just as much as he can. Also you want to know what he tastes like but that’s besides the point. 

“You know tomorrow is the first day of the week. Which means you have to take me somewhere… why don’t you tell me about that?” You run a finger over the straining fabric of his flight suit drawing a small breath from him. 

“Etyc girl.” He murmurs as he brushes your hair back a bit, away from your face. You should really start trying to remember everything he says so you can ask him about it later. “I thought I’d let you choose.” He keeps his hand on your face, rubbing circles against your cheek with his thumb. 

“Mhmm. What are my options?” You hum softly as you tug ever so gently at his zipper, watching with wide eyes as his cock springs free and slaps against his stomach. It’s even bigger and more intimidating when you’re this close to it. You reach your hand towards it but stop a few inches shy, looking up at him, waiting for him to continue. 

“Well… there’s a market in the city, that’s very well known, I thought you might like to shop for yourse-” He sucks in a sharp inhale as you lightly scrape your fingernails across the underside of his shaft, watching intently at how the Beskar tilts upwards slightly. You can’t bite back the smirk on your face as you wrap your fingers around the base of him. Maker your hand doesn’t even fully close around his girth. 

“That sounds nice, what’s my other choice?” You don’t stroke him, you just trace a vein with your thumb, that has him leaning back on his elbows as he gasps. 

“Maker- there’s a library in the- in the city.” He stutters out as you sit up on your knees so you can let a trail of spit fall onto the weeping head of his cock, watching as it mixes with his pre-cum as you swipe your thumb over his slit, lazily stroking him. You hum again in approval. 

“How about we go to the market this week and the library next week? Would that be okay Mando?” He’s managed to prop himself up more as he pants, watching you. 

“Sure thing princess.” He mumbles.

Stars he’s a sight. Leaned back like this, breathless. His thighs are tense under your hands as you bring them down slightly before leaning down to place a chaste kiss on the prominent vein on the underside of his length drawing a breathy groan from him. 

You’ve barely even started and he’s like this. It’s exhilarating to know you have the same effect on him that he has on you. 

“Why don’t you tell me all about the markets while I do this?” You look up at him with big doe eyes, unable to hold back the smug grin.

“You’re an evil woman.” He says under his breath.

“Oh come on, this can’t be any worse than what you did to me.”

“Be careful princess or I’ll bend you over right there on the floor and show you just how bad it can b- fuck…” Halfway through his sentence you started leisurely dragging your tongue up his length, effectively shutting him up. You pull back slightly. 

“Tell me about the markets Mando.”

“If you wanna play this game just know I’m gonna repay the favor at some point.” His voice is low and stern, you simply nod, scraping your fingernails delicately up his shaft again. 

“I look forward to it. Now start talking or you’re gonna be playing this game by yourself back at your cabin.” You pepper a few kisses at his base as you wait for him to respond. 

“Okay sarad’ika… They’re big, they take up nearly three whole streets.” His voice is low and one of his hands is caressing your face again. You take the opportunity to bite the fingertips of his glove so you can tear it off. He chuckles as he tangles his fingers in your hair as you start working your way up, starting at his base with kisses and small licks as you take your time. Hearing his breath quicken. “They um… they’re one of the largest markets in this system, they say you can’t walk the whole thing in a day.” 

“What else?” You know he can feel your breath against the head of his cock as you speak because he shivers ever so slightly.

“They have everything you might be l-looking for… most of the stands change at night, we’ll have to go a different day after sunset so you- so you can see it all.” He barely seems to be getting through it all as you finally take him in your mouth, swirling your tongue across his tip. Your jaw is already starting to ache so you start to work your way down, hoping to finish him off relatively quickly. Based on the way his grip tightens in your hair you doubt it will take long. You hollow your cheeks ever so slightly.

Maker the groan he lets out. None of your books could write a groan like that. 

You continue to work him into your mouth, gagging quietly every once in a while as you listen to the gasps and moans that slip out of the modulator, after he goes a minute or so without speaking you pull off of him, letting your teeth drag against him briefly. He hisses loudly and his grip in your hair tightens. 

“Gedet’ye mesh’la…” His voice is hoarse as he sits up. You tut quietly.

“I don’t know what that means.” You say mockingly as you bring one of your hands up to cup his balls.

“Fuck… don’t chayaikir .” He growls.

“Ask nicely.” You’re practically whispering it against his shaft as you press another kiss against his cock. 

“Don’t test me princess.” You can feel the burn against your scalp as he tugs you closer. It doesn’t faze you all that much as you continue staring up into the visor.

“Looks like I’m not the only one who needs to learn manners.” You can practically hear his teeth grinding as you gently squeeze him at the base, just hard enough to make him grunt. 

“Fine princess, you win. Please...” It’s barely a whisper but it’s all you wanted to hear so you happily take him back in your mouth, bobbing your head up and down, unable to take him entirely without choking so you use your hand to jerk off the rest of him. It doesn’t take much longer before he’s thrusting his hips up into your mouth. “Right there sarad, fuck, I’m close ad’ika, doing bid pirusti… dirty girl.” After a few minutes of messy thrusts he finishes and you feel the warmth spreading down your throat. You keep sucking, until he pulls you off, a line of drool going from his length to your swollen bottom lip. He’s laying back, chest heaving as you wipe the drool from your chin and swallow anything remaining in your mouth. He tastes like salt, metal, and something sweet you can’t place. You stand up and sit next to him, rubbing soothing patterns against the break in his armor at the side of his abdomen. 

“You deserved that.” You mumble with a grin. The helmet turns to face you. 

“Remember that you said that next time you’re whining underneath me.” He’s still a bit breathless as he sits up.

“Sure thing.” You beam at him. 

It’s quiet, almost peaceful as he zips his pants back up and the two of you just sit with each other. You want to lean your head on his shoulder but you’re pretty sure that would be breaking the rules so you resist. 

“You should probably go.” You whisper. You manage to keep your tone neutral. 

There’s a beat of silence. 

“Okay.” He stands and just like that he’s walking to the door. 

“Good night Mando.” You sigh as you turn to say goodbye. 

“Dress light tomorrow. It’s gonna be hot out in the city.” His tone is gentle as he opens the door and leaves. 

You stand and walk yourself to the closet, collapsing in an exhausted heap onto the blankets.

As you struggle to get comfortable there’s a dull ache in your chest that reminds you of how you felt the first few days on Naboo when you were longing for the company of your family. 

You ignore it. 

It’s normal for people to miss their friends. 

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[emeritusemeritus]

Vulnera Sanentur [Weasley twins x reader]

Part 3

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14

Title: Vulnera Sanentur

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader x George Weasley {established relationship}

Timeline: DH1- set during the battle of the seven potters. Canon and certain plot points have been altered for the needs of the story.

Summary: The battle of the seven Potters throws your world into chaos when one of your boyfriend’s is cursed. As Snape’s ex-potions assistant and previous protégée, you recognise the inflicted curse immediately and demand answers from your mentor.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of war and Voldy, descriptions of injury and blood, descriptive smut, p in v sex, shower sex, tension. Outside sex. Semi public sex. None sexual nudity. Crying. Snape has a soft spot for reader. Arguments. Probably some cursing. Mentions of nightmares. Reader is part of the Order of the Phoenix. Mentions of death (Dumbledore). Mentions of Tonks’ pregnancy. Not spellchecked nor beta read, we die like Madeye.

With a loud clack you were gone and appeared only moments later in a small, deserted park, surrounded by metal railings and vacant benches, knowing you had to be safe and not go straight to your destination. You set off on your little walk and in no time at all you were facing Grimmauld Place. With a flourish of you wand and a wordless charm, the building began to rumble and pull back, sliding out between the next door residences that were totally black in the dead of night until number 12 was clearly visible.

"Homenum revelio," you cast as you walked through the door, looking down at the slightly illuminated hallway, the dark walls and grotesquely gothic architecture making you feel a little more than uneasy but you couldn't allow yourself to be frightened now. Nothing happened from your spell and you realised you were entirely alone in the property, an sigh of relief falling from your lips at the revelation.

"Lumos," you said quietly as you walked deeper into the safe house, illuminated wand guiding your way, walking directly up the creaking staircase towards the third room on the right, the bedroom you'd been sharing with Fred and George only a year ago. You prayed it was still here.

You didn't divert from your path and immediately crouched down towards the small round rug in the centre of the room as you entered your old bedroom and peeled back the rug to check the floorboards beneath it. Knocking three times, then two, and saying a muffled 'revelio', you watched as the floorboard popped up out of its socket just as it had been enchanted to do. You pulled the floorboard away and smirked to yourself as you saw the very thing you'd hidden all that time ago, still in perfect condition. The marauders map.

During your last year at Hogwarts, Harry had spent an agonising amount of time following Draco on the map, so much so that it was becoming detrimental to his school work, his sleep and his life. You and Hermione had both decided to remove the map from his possession, knowing the risks that the map held if it were to get into the wrong hands and so you'd each vowed to hide the map with only the pair of you knowing it's hiding place.

Pulling the map from its confines, you uttered the words you'd heard Fred and George say so many times before and right in front of your eyes the words appeared, brown ink bleeding onto the page.

I solemnly swear I am up to no good.

It took mere seconds for you to locate exactly what you were looking for, spotting the singular name on the map exactly where you'd predicted it to be. The climax of your plan could now take place.

You realised that this whole step of the plan could have been avoided but you wanted to make sure that the figure you followed on the map was exactly where you'd planned them to be, no doubt slipping into your determination.

"Mischief managed," you uttered, tapping it once with your wand and the writing began to fade away, leaving the parchment bare once again. You quickly stuffed it into the hole and replaced the floorboard, uttering the enchantment you'd placed upon it and exited the house completely. As you left, the creaking of the metal and rumble of the bricks faded into the background as the house fought to conceal itself once again.

You walked quickly back to the park and with a quick glance around to determine no one was around, you disapparated straight to your next destination.

Hogsmeade was notoriously cold early in the morning, in fact you'd called it the coldest place in the U.K. numerous times over the years and as your feet landed on the dewy ground, you had to hold back a shiver. Your stomach lurched as you landed, the multiple apparitions and disapparitions taking their toll on your body but you pressed on, wanting to get this over with.

You'd apparated just outside the border of the anti-disapparation jinx that was placed upon Hogwarts and the surrounding grounds, knowing the range of the jinx from a side along apparition you'd undertaken with Snape two years ago to collect ingredients for his personal store.

You trudged around a deserted Hogsmeade in the darkness using only your memory to guide you and appeared around the back of the only illuminated shop in the entire village; Honeydukes.

They were notorious for baking their homemade treats overnight, prepared fresh for the morning trade the next day. Fred had told you a while back that all their deliveries were made in the early morning as to have everything on hand for the busy morning rush; something he'd seen firsthand when him and George had been to visit a vacant unit in Hogsmeade after store close back when they considered expanding before putting that plan on hold. All it would take was a carefully timed entry through the small cellar door and you'd be on your way to your last destination. As you crouched in the darkness, concealed by the shadows of the nearby shops, you mentally wished that you'd managed to acquire Harry's invisibility cloak for your mission but there was no going back now.

As one worker excited the back door, leaving it swung right open, you ran in and rounded the corner, running straight down the back stairs that lead to the cellar, a route you'd taken many times with your boyfriends in your school years. With a quick look around, you lifted the slab and slipped into the passageway, carefully replacing the stone slab behind you. You breathed out a large breath and cast a light spell so that you could see, quickly making your way through the hidden passage that led to Hogwarts.

It was freezing and damp in the passageway and you briefly pined for the company of your boyfriends as you walked the long distance towards the castle. You took the time to consider how you were going to do this but quickly put it out of your mind, realising that your anger was your greatest weapon in this instance.

You finally appeared at the alcove behind the one eyed witch statue and expertly made your way around it like you had many times before, finding yourself in the deserted great staircase. Only once you'd breached the castle did the overwhelming sense of danger register with you. If Snape had turned in his allegiance, you could be in serious danger, coming face to face with a death eater, the same one that you knew had cursed your boyfriend so severely. The very thought of George lay there covered in his own blood and looking so gravely ill made the adrenaline inside you surge and suddenly you didn't feel fear anymore.

You marched directly over to the headmaster's tower, reaching the concealed gargoyle staircase that led to Dumbledore's office, or rather Snape's office now.

"Sherbet lemon," you said, expecting the staircase to appear but the Gargoyle you had seemed to disrupt from slumber suddenly cursed you out for getting it wrong. You hadn't considered that Snape would change the password, though of course it made sense.

"But, Dumbledore," you began to argue until falling silent only a moment later as the staircase opened up and slowly unfurled, making you momentarily frown in confusion.

Taking a deep breath, you ascended the moving stone staircase until you were met with the closed door to the office. You considered knocking, but thought better of it and burst through the doors, directly facing the man who had betrayed your trust.

He was sat at his desk, eyes wide open as he looks upon the indignant intrusion, first with a glare of complete outrage before it transformed into confusion and from what you could see, guilt, as he realised it was you that had stormed into his office.

It was the first time you'd seen him since the news that he had killed Dumbledore that night on the astronomy tower had spread around members of the order, though it was not known to the general public. Years of bonding and working closely together, of building something that could be described as friendship now felt fragmented and broken as you stepped into the office, your anger consuming you at his attack on George.

"Y/n," he says, rising from his seat, casting aside the book he'd been reading on the desk without thought.

"Save it," you spat out, your fury building within you as you slammed the door behind you closed with a resounding bang. You looked at him in pure disgust, with such hatred in your eyes that you could almost see his shoulders sagging under the force of your gaze. Clearly he had not expected you, nor had he expected to be on the receiving end of your fury.

"How could you?" You said, already raising your voice as the emotion overwhelms you, the memories from the formative years of you working hard under his initial harsh scrutiny, the slightly odd but important bond you'd formed, your important role working as his assistant and the time you'd shared together. "I trusted you!"

"Then you are a fool," he says quickly with a cold, dismissive tone, averting his gaze from you.

"Don't play that with me, you should know it doesn't work headmaster," you retort warningly, the last word dripping from your mouth with loaded sarcastic aggression.

You'd been used to his cold and harsh exterior, had seen it weaponised and utilised for his benefit many times before but you knew the real Snape, the intelligent and warm man underneath.

He turns and casts a few spells with a flourish of his wand that leads you to believe they are strong silencing charms as a translucent barrier forms around the room, as if keeping your conversation isolated.

"I had to watch the man I love be carried in, completely limp and haemorrhaging blood knowing there it was you that cursed him. He could have died Severus!"

"You have no proof it was me-" he begins to say, still keeping his hardened resolve, deflecting your accusations but it only infuriates you more, tears beginning to well in your eyes as the emotions overcome you completely as you interrupt his pathetic denial.

"No? I was there that night with you and Draco, remember?" You say hatefully, "I saw how that curse slashed Draco apart, the very same curse Harry found in your own copy of advanced potion making,

Sectumsempra."

For the first time since entering his office, Snape turned to look at you in shock, realising now that you knew all along. "You really believe the person that has worked with you closely and tirelessly over the years would fail to recognise your handwriting?"

He falls silent as he takes in your words, which prompts you to continue your verbal assassination.

"I saw the very same slash marks on George's head, I knew that curse could only have come from you. Funny how you knew exactly what incantation to use to heal the marks when it was an entirely unheard of curse! Do I mean that little to you that you'd go so far as to curse the ear off the man I love?! I thought we were... friends." A singular tear fell from your eye as the anguish inside you disappeared, leaving only sadness and betrayal.

He remains silent for a moment and you prepare yourself to walk out, realising this was a pointless and fruitless endeavour. Just as you turn to walk away, his quiet voice cuts through the silent, tension filled room, pausing your movement. It appears that your words and willingness to leave had broken his resolve, the truth finally coming out.

"It was never meant for George," he says quietly, not meeting your eyes. "There's so much of this you do not and cannot know but you must understand it was never my intention to hurt him, it was a miscalculation in logistics. I saw a masked one aim at Lupin and Weasley and I retaliated in kind, but it all moved so fast, the curse bounded towards him and I was powerless to stop it."

He turns to you then, looking directly into your eyes with a sadness that seemed to reach his soul.

"And to answer your question, your friendship means everything to me, you mean very much to me."

"Severus," you breath out, listening to his explanation and finding yourself believing him, though you tried to resist.

"You've always overlooked my predisposition for life's negativity, shown me kindness that no one else has in a very long time, like a beacon of goodness in what seems a lifetime of darkness and solitude. I value our friendship a great deal."

He looks up at you once again, focusing his complete attention on you.

"I'm sorry that George was hurt, it was very much never my intention. How is he?"

"Alive," you say, feeling suddenly exhausted by the journey and your emotions as you perch yourself on the edge of the chair. He nods solemnly just once, eyes lingering over you as an awkward silence falls between you both. There's so much that isn't said between you, of friendship and war and questions of loyalty, but all of those go unsaid.

"You're no longer on our side are you?" You said quietly after a moment, slowly looking up into his emotion filled eyes as you keep your tone neutral and unaccusing. You'd surmised as much, though you were loathe to actually believe it even after the events of the previous day which you assumed could only have been down to him. He had leaked the information to Voldemort, you were now sure if it. Mundungus might have had questionable morals but he wasn't brave enough to supply the death eaters with information, he'd have been too cowardly, which only left the one order member that wasn't present or assisting with the removal of Harry.

He blinks slowly and you can almost physically see him deflate as he looks into your eyes with a piercing intensity, not wanting to answer your question.

"I should go," you say, looking at the patterns in the stone floor. You don't hear a reply but you can envision him nodding in reply and so you move to stand, straightening out your jacket.

"Use the floo, Hogsmeade is no longer safe if not accompanied," he says, gesturing vaguely towards the fireplace in the corner. With a wave of his hand, the fireplace immediately ignites into green tinted flames, ready for your exit.

"Y/n," Severus says, stepping closer to you with uncharacteristic hesitation before you can step into the fire. He looks plagued, like he wants to say so much but can't for whatever reason.

"I'm sorry it has to be this way, I hope one day you will understand and find it in yourself to forgive me."

You're briefly taken aback by his words, finally realising that from this point onwards you would no longer have the relationship you had always had, you'd be natural enemies on either side of a budding war. His words felt like a final goodbye and you bit the inside of your cheek to prevent tears from forming in your eyes once again.

"I hope you can forgive yourself, and I don't just mean for George. I hope one day you realise that you're a good man and finally see yourself the same way I have always seen you. Goodbye Severus."

Your eyes remain locked on each other for a few moments, sad eyes meeting as you part ways, both physically and emotionally. You take a handful of floo powder and with one last look at your now ex-friend, you speak loudly and clearly into the fire, 'Diagonal Alley' before the fire consumed you and you're transported to the Leaky Cauldron, just as you had envisioned in your mind, knowing their fireplace would be one of the few open for all use even at this time of night, or rather early morning. You exit the deserted Inn and exited onto the cobblestone streets of Diagon Alley, walking absently until you were directly outside your boyfriends' shop.

You wheezed and caught your breath as you stood looking up at the shop, guilt niggling at you as you thought of how you couldn't go straight to the Burrow, sensing that it would give Snape the advantage of knowledge that you could no longer entrust him with, if he hadn't known already.

You walked to the door of the shop and cast the charm to unlock the door, the specific spell that Fred had created that was specific to this lock and acted as an anti-unlocking charm that couldn't be penetrated by alohamora or even the more creative unlocking spells. Once inside, you pointed your wand at the lock and cast the charm to lock the door before closing your eyes and with tired determination, you climbed the stairs until you reached the flat you lived in upstairs with Fred and George.

Fred had cast a anti-apparition jinx in the shop and the surrounding areas that they owned as a precaution and right at this moment you were mentally cursing his efforts, feeling exhausted, though apparating your current state would be incredibly dangerous anyway, the tiredness in your body and mind would most likely have gotten you splinched.

You entered your flat and immediately grabbed a glass of water, taking a seat at the kitchen table, feeling suddenly very alone without the usual company of one or both of your loves, the flat seeming empty and without life. You needed to get back before sunrise and you maybe only had an hour before the sun would begin to peak over the lowest points on the horizon so you quickly went into the bathroom to relieve yourself and wash your face, changing your clothes on the way back through.

In your note to the twins, you'd lied and stated that you needed something from home and would be nipping back to get it so you moved a couple of things around on the coffee table and kitchen, as if you'd been searching for something before walking to the bedroom you all shared and pulled out your jewellery box, reaching for the locket they had bought you on your 17th birthday. Inside was a picture of each of them, Fred on the left and George on the right you'd taken at the Yule ball all those years ago.

You'd realised during the wait for the order to return that you'd forgotten to pack it and you knew the twins wouldn't question you going back for it, knowing how sentimental you were about this particular piece, making it the perfect rouse.

Stepping towards the fire, you yawned and cast one last spell to connect the floo, seeing green flames once again rising. You thought about Severus and felt a pang of sadness hit you but you carried on regardless, feeling more than ready to crawl into bed with your boyfriends again.

Hagrid, still sleeping soundly on the floor, no doubt knocked out by his firewhiskey intake, didn't even flinch as the flames surged in the fireplace as you returned to the Burrow, feeling exhausted. Your confrontation with Snape had been tiresome but cathartic and though there was so much that went unsaid, you were pleased overall with how things had gone. You were exhausted in both body and mind but somehow you didn't feel tired, at least not tired enough to sleep. You considered making a cup of tea but with another look at a snoring Hagrid, you decided it was best not to.

You trudged up the staircase, mindfully stepping in a perfected sequence that avoided all the creaking steps and noisy floorboards until you reached the door to your boyfriends' room. You gently twisted the door handle and crept inside the mostly dark room, the essence of first light creeping in over the hills.

Immediately, you felt yourself engulfed into a large figure and had to hold back a scream at the sudden movement, realising only when the voice whisper yelled at you that it was Fred.

"Where the bloody hell have you been?" He asks in a harsh whisper and you freeze, realising with one single glance at his face that you'd never seen him look so worried before.

"Had to get my necklace," you said, your gut dropping as you lied to the man you loved, feeling more than uneasy about it. To solidify your lie, you reached into your pocket and pulled out your locket to show him. He visibly took a deep breath and pulled you deep into his chest.

"Next time let me go with you, I was so worried," he says, holding you tightly in his arms. You simply nodded and allowed yourself to melt into his embrace. "He woke up, asked for you."

Suddenly your guilt felt immeasurable, not being here for your other love. "Said you'd nipped to help mum, didn't want him worrying too."

"I'm sorry Freddie," you said with full honesty, feeling ashamed.

"You're back now," he says, stroking your back, keeping you pressed into him. "You must be tired."

"Not really," you admitted. Exhausted and weary yes but you could sleep if you were paid to.

"Want to go to our spot? He'll be knocked out for a few hours now, mum topped him up with some sleeping potion," he says, gesturing towards George who is evidentially deep asleep, mouth hanging wide open and breathing deeply and steadily from what you can see over Fred's wide shoulders.

"Lead the way Weasley," you say with a smile and he steps out of the room towards the top of the staircase and with two perfectly synchronised cracks, you apparate to the spot in the forest behind the burrow you'd claimed as your own years ago.

He took your hand as soon as you'd landed and lead you further into the clearing, stopping only briefly to help you over the little wooden stump and logs that created a barrier around your spot. You each sit around the fire that Fred starts with a flourish of his wand, sitting on the larger logs around it.

"I want to feel normal again," he says quietly a little later on as you sit in silence, Fred's wand enchanting some of flames to idly play with them as you watched the sun very slowly begin to creep higher in the sky, though it was hidden by the vast number of trees around you, keeping you mostly in the dark. You turn to him with concern, seeing his eyes blankly staring at the fire, his face expressionless.

"Seeing George like that, then waking up without you there, I've never felt so lost in my life," he says.

"Freddie," you begin to apologise, feeling overwhelmed by guilt again until he shakes his head.

"I'm just so used to always having one of you there, if not both. It's never been just me, always been 'the twins' or Gred and Forge and then you came along and we became a three. For the first time tonight I had a glimpse of being alone, completely alone without you both and it was unbearable."

"You're not alone, me and George will always be there," you say, shuffling closer to him to take his hand.

"We don't know what will happen, if something happens in the war and I lose you both," he begins to say.

"Then we'll still always be with you," you say firmly, squeezing his hand to force him to look up at you which he does.

He gazes at you for what seems like forever, as if he's searching your face for something before he leans in and kisses you with surprising intensity. You kiss him back just as feverishly, your body igniting under his touch as his hand creeps up into your hair to hold you to him. His tongue licks into your mouth and massages your own tongue as his other hand begin to wander.

"I need to feel you," he says breathlessly and desperately against your lips, never quite pulling away from you, "please sweetheart, let me feel you here with me."

"Freddie, yes," you say in reply, just as breathless as he. You sense a primal need in his desperate plea and can't deny him, nor did you want to. Much to how open you had both been during your shower earlier, you couldn't help but feel the pure connection between the two of you, the desperate need for comfort in the way only you could provide.

He blindly reached for his wand, still fixed to your lips and cast a spell against your lips that made a large blanket appear, a spell you recognised him creating a few years back when you'd pulled him right here to this spot for some alone time.

The past 24 hours had been a whirlwind of emotion, loss and pain. When George had been cursed, he became your primary focus and after he was healed, you'd been hell bent on getting answers if not revenge from your ex-friend and mentor, overlooking Fred and the torment you'd endured having to wait for his return, knowing he was in danger too.

You wrapped yourself around eachother, a tangle of passionate, sloppy kisses and wandering hands as you desperately clawed at each others clothes, needing to feel each other's warm skin and beating heart against your own.

Fred ripped off your shirt and wasted no time in lifting your bra up above your breasts so that he could bend down and suck on them, both of you finding comfort in the sensation of his lips sucking at your nipples as he briefly fiddled with the clasp before throwing the garment to one side, never once pausing his assault of your sensitive nipples. You had already tore away his sleep shirt and then pulled at his pyjama bottoms to feel him naked beside you. Your jeans were shimmied off somewhere along the way and your panties were physically ripped from your body at the waistband and thrown into the distance, leaving the both of you completely bare.

"Freddie, need you, don't make me wait," you said breathlessly, pulling away from his ravishing lips, feeling them connect to your neck almost as soon as you'd began talking.

"But," he begins to protest, his hand creeping down between your thighs to test how ready you were for him, not wanting to hurt you.

"I'm ready, fuck please I need you," you begged, opening your legs further as if to beckon him to you. You heard him groan as your words, capturing your nipple between his lips once more as he shifts to move between your legs, his muscular arms bulging either side of your head as he shifts into position, needing to see your face. He kisses you again and you feel the evidence of his arousal pressing into the crease of your groin before he pulls back to adjust himself and take hold of his cock with one hand and slides into you slowly and carefully. You both erupt in moans as you feel him sink into you, not stopping until you were taking nearly every inch of his thickness.

"Fuck, y/n," he groans, slowly pulling out of you before crashing his hips back into yours, making you throw your head back in pure pleasure, feeling his cock stretching you out and filling you in all the right ways. His eyes are clenched tightly shut as his mouth opens on its own accord as he begins to rock back and forth into you, building up to a slow but forceful rhythm.

Your legs wrap around his hips as your hand begin to grab at his wide shoulders, pulling him further into you as he reaches down to kiss you passionately once again. His hips speed up and he finally gives you what you want, both of you moaning once again at the change of angle, feeling him hit the deepest parts of you which makes you gasp and moan out his name.

It's primal and desperate as your bodies meld together, never really pulling apart even as his hips rock in and out of you with pure need. Neither of you can hold back your cries of pleasure, moaning each other's name and verbal curses echoing through the woods as he pounds into you. Suddenly needing something new, you place your hands on his chest and as he pauses his rhythm, you force him into his back and begin to ride him with all the strength you have left over. His big hands immediately lock onto your hips, guiding you and helping with your movements as he looks up at you with adoration in his eyes and mouth agape. His eyes are fixed onto your bouncing breasts and you make no move to conceal yourself as you bounce on his cock, hips bucking wildly and your hair falling over your shoulders. You steady yourself on his thighs as you lean back, giving him the perfect view of your bodies meeting and his cock disappearing in and out of you and he roars with arousal at the sight, hips thrusting upwards to fuck up into you as you both near your end.

Suddenly, his right hand reaches up to cup the back of your neck and he forcefully pulls you down onto him to kiss you again, sloppy kisses and teasing tongues as you lay chest to chest, his hips pounding into now. His other hand grins your hip and he lets out a loud groan against your lips as you feel him cumming. You're powerless to move as he holds you in place, fucking up into you with abandon and the sensation of him overpowering you hurtles you towards your own finish, your walls squeezing his twitching cock as you cum together, feeling his warm seed flood you from the inside.

As your orgasm ebbs away, the tingling sensation fading slowly, the world around you seemed to fade back into your conscious again. You looked down at Fred and saw him lay with his eyes closed, a peaceful look on his face with just the hint of a smirk tugging at the left side of his lips as his hands caressed your skin where he'd been holding you. His eyes slowly fluttered open a moment later and he looked up at you with love in his eyes, a look that you were certain was mirrored in your own.

You lifted your hips gently and his softening cock slipped out of you, both of you groaning in sensitivity at the sensation as you felt some of his load slipping out of you with the movement.

"I needed that," you half chuckled as you bent down and rested your head on his shoulder, legs extending either side of him so that you were essentially lay on top of him, which he was only happy to accommodate.

"Me too princess," he smirks, running his hand over your naked back. "We should get dressed, don't want you getting cold."

You dressed quickly with whatever clothes had survived your mass, frantic scrummage earlier. Fred ended up having to give you his sleep shirt as he'd literally ripped your T-shirt apart and your jeans chafed your bum uncomfortably as your panties were also beyond repair, leaving you without.

The sun had risen almost completely now, noticing as soon as you walked out of the tree line and you had no doubt that Molly would be up soon, delegating chores to every unsuspecting resident and guest. You wanted to be back with George, hopefully before he woke and so you both walked back and crept into the house, walking tiredly towards the twins bedroom where George was still sound asleep.

You took a moment to look at him, smiling and grimacing briefly as you saw the little puddle of drool that had formed on his pillow and the little snores he was omitting.

"I'll tell mum you've been brewing some healing potion all night," Fred says as you slip off your jeans, leaving you in just Freddie's T-shirt as you both slip into the small bed beside George's as Fred tucks the duvet around you both and pulls you into him so that you can cuddle into his chest. "At least you'll get some more sleep."

"Thank you Freddie, love you," you say sleepily, true tiredness hitting you immediately as you snuggled down into the soft covers.

"I love you too princess, so much," he says with a kiss to your head before your eyes close and you cuddle down into him, feeling sleep already taking over you.

Next

[spaghettificationandpretzels]

Friendly Encouragement

A/N @darklydeliciousdesires thank you for introducing me to this man. So writing this took like six turns, and it's now become a multi-part childhood best friends-to-lover anthology; this is part one. My confidence is still pretty trash, especially because this is a new fandom/character so I'm not all that happy with this even with the seven rewrites.

Contains: Fluff, supportive Sean, childhood best friends to lover, mild smut.

1.7 K words

After getting some help from Sean, there ends up being some revelations.

The daylight was well and truly gone, and Sean had been pouring over your rejected grant proposal for hours, trying to figure out why it hadn't made the cut.

He lifted his head off his hand, looked away from the paper and shook himself awake before throwing the folder onto the ground and turning to you with his jaw clenched. "I don't get it, love, it's flawless."

You shrugged. "It's also apparently too client focused. Too much about helping people and not enough about the bottom line."

He rolled his eyes, clearly ready to rant about what the heads of charities really got up to, before he stopped himself. "You're going to go back in there tomorrow and demand he reconsider."

You looked at him for a moment, hoping you'd heard him right. "Yeah, that's not going to happen, I don't even know where to start. I'd go to the CEO, but she's travelling, and he'll get ahead of it before I even try."

He was off the couch like a rocket, marching over to you with a determined look set on his face. "Then we'll practice."

He wrapped his strong hand around your upper arm and dragged you to his home office, letting you go a few feet from his desk before sitting down. "Pretend I'm this finance arsehole, we'll work through it together."

You wanted to protest, to tell him he was being silly, but the look on his face told you that you wouldn't be leaving the room until you did what he asked.

You sighed and threw your hands up. "Fine, but I don't see how this is going to help. I am capable of getting things done, it's just him."

He almost looked offended. "I know that, I've known that since you called Mr Bollen a pompous baboon in the fourth grade."

He paused and smiled softly, that disarming smile you had seen him use so many times before. "Think of me as an empty space, I'm not going to do anything other than sit here so you can bounce your ideas around."

You huffed. "Fine."

You left the room and closed the door, taking a deep breath before knocking twice. "Come in."

You walked in, head held high and back straight like you did that morning, and met Sean's eye, his serious look preventing you from laughing. "Mr. Campbell, I think you should reconsider my grant. The numbers page on page six made it clear that it's doable and…"

Your thoughts left you, and you flopped down onto one of the office chairs. "This isn't going to work."

Sean wasn't put off and reached across the table to grab your hand. "He's not the first pig you've had to deal with, he won't be the last. Now what's tripping you up?"

Sean had a knack for getting information out of people, so there was no point in lying, you just had to say it carefully so no one ended up dead.

It wasn't really that hard to relent with the way he was looking at you, his face neutral but his eyes full of twinkling affection that almost looked more than friendly, it made your heart flutter. "I'm pretty sure I lost the grant because I refused to go to the luncheon. I didn't think the money that could be going to the program should be spent on drinks."

You saw the fleeting glimmer of anger in his sea blue eyes, but it was gone in a flash, and you continued. "This isn't the sixties. He gave the grant to one of his drinking buddies, and it's not going to help anyone, and I can't do this because if I'm alone in a room with that prick, I'm going to hit him."

Sean chuckled and patted your hand lovingly. "Ah, love, you might not want to hear this, but you need to sink to his level." Your eyes went wide, and you stuttered about being unable to do that, but he cut you off. "I'm not talking about blackmail, just let him know that all it would take for him to lose his job is an off hand comment in the lift while the CEO is there."

You sighed, he was right, as always. He took in your look of resignation with a smile and waved his hand. "Well then, up you get. Once we can get through this without that bleeding heart of yours balking, I'll order in from your favourite restaurant."

You raised your eyebrows and shook your head. "Bribery, Sean, really?"

He still hadn't let so of your hand, and his thumb rubbed your skin affectionately. "Only the best for my favourite girl."

****

You were still riding the high of how well it all went when you showed up at Sean's. There was no point in knocking; the Wallace house was your second home, and you practically lived there. You waved to Mrs Wallace as you walked by the kitchen, and she gestured towards Sean's room to let you know where he was.

You rapped on the door, and his voice floated through the wood. "Come in." He grinned when he laid eyes on you and popped up from his small desk to greet you. "You're smiling, so it went well. Tell me everything."

It all came out in an excited flurry, going between telling him what had happened and explaining how the head of finance had squirmed like a coward the more you spoke. Sean's grin only grew until he was close to laughing, accepting your thanks graciously as you wrapped your arms around him.

He could feel your excitement as you spoke and he couldn't find it in himself to let you go as you finally slowed down and it became his turn to speak. "I'm very proud of you y/n." He paused, wondering if the tone of the hug was really changing or if he was just imagining it, but he took his chance anyway. "And it is I that should be thanking you, the way you have handled the last year has been admirable."

He didn't know how to put the rest of his thoughts into words, that you were all he thought of when he was away, that despite being back at the top, he felt achingly lonely when you weren't around, that he's loved you since he was sixteen. He tightened his arms around you and buried his nose in your hair. "I love you."

It wasn't a strange thing for him to say; you said it to each other all the time; it was the way he said it that gave you pause, but you replied nevertheless. "I love you too Sean."

"Not like that." He pulled away from the embrace, but only enough to place his hand on your cheek. "I've loved you since you showed up on my doorstep in that bubble gum pink dress the night of that stupid year ten dance."

It felt like a dream, the way he tucked a strand of hair behind your ears as he gazed at you like you were the most precious thing on earth. "Your mother bought me that dress. It was hideous."

The distance between you got smaller as you both leaned in, and he whispered against your lips. "I thought you were the most beautiful girl I had ever seen." His nose brushed yours, and his other hand left your back so he could hold your face in his hands as you moved yours to his shoulders. "You are the most beautiful girl I've ever seen."

When his lips found yours, it was like you had the last breath on earth between your lips. Your hands wove into his hair, and you moved in step towards his bed, finally stopping when the backs of your knees hit the edge. You pulled away from each other breathless, his hands moving to your shirt as you spoke. "I knew before you."

He chuckled as he pecked your cheek, his beard brushing your skin as he made his way to your neck. "Is that so?"

"It is." You broke contact only long enough for him to pull your shirt over your head, his polo following as you took in the sight of his bare chest. He was all lean muscle wrapped in pale, freckled skin.

He licked his lips as his eyes raked over your bare skin, then his lips were down your neck to your chest as he reached behind you to unclasp your bra. "When?"

It was hard to reply with his plump lips sealing around your nipple, but he looked at you through his red eyelashes in a way that let you know that silence wasn't an option. "Two weeks before the dance when that Harrison freak ruined my science project after I turned him down and you punched him."

He smiled against your skin before nipping you, the bite of his teeth sending a shiver up your spine. His lips found yours again as your hands moved to his belt, your fingers played with the buckle for a moment, but it was your turn to smile as you moved your hand down to palm his rapidly hardening cock through his black trousers.

It seemed to be tit for tat with him because he slid his hand down from your rib cage to use his long and dexterous fingers to pop open your pants, dispensing with any teasing so he could graze his fingertips over your bare flesh. Your breath caught in your chest as he slid his fingers through your slit, stopping for a moment to rub your clit before they continued with their nonsense patterns.

He parted from you briefly, his face flushed with lust as you managed to get his pants off and pushed them down enough to get your hand on his cock. He gathered himself enough to look at you like he wanted to swallow you whole and kissed his way to your ear to speak. "We have some catching up to do." With that, his hand left your pants, and he brought his fingers up to his lips to lick you off of them.

The sight was enough to make your knees buckle. "Yes, we do."

His lips were restless as you moved onto the bed to lie on your back, and then he was ripping your bottoms off, underpants and all, before shedding his own. "You're not leaving this bed until midday tomorrow."

His fingers were back on your centre, and the look in his eyes was positively heartstopping, a mix of lust and love that made it feel like your skin was on fire. "That's fine with me."

Fin

@daydreaming-belle

[novaksupremacy]

The Veiled Law of Affection - Chapter 10

*Disclaimer* - I just want to say I'M SORRY right off the bat. I hate me for this chapter too. Please except the seven Word doc pages of smut that start this chapter off as my APOLOGY and a reminder that this is *temporary* Now on to the usual warnings- smut, svu talk (I tried to tone down dialogue surrounding this case as I felt that kind of stuff is probably more difficult to read than watch in the show}, night terrors, accidental violence, fluff and a shit ton of angst Based on S6E13 "Quarry"

Pairing: Casey Novak x Olivia Benson

Word Count: 9603

by PKJ @novaksupremacy

Read Part 9

Casey panted, naked, up against the doorframe, Liv’s hand to her throat as she kissed down the side of her neck. They had cast their clothes to the side the minute they were behind the apartment door. The counselor leaned her head to the side to give her girlfriend better access, “Mmm this is new detective, I like it.” She mewled biting down on her lip.

“Oh yeah?” Liv smirked against the dip between Casey’s neck and shoulder and slid her thigh in between the redhead’s. She tightened her grip a little bit, the ADA placing her hand over Liv’s and let out a moan.

“Baby, I need you.” The counselor whined, “don’t tease.” She would be lying if she said she meant that. She loved it when her detective tortured her.

The brunette dropped her hand and pressed herself tight against Casey, lifting her up by her thighs and wrapped them around her waist. She pressed the redhead’s back against the wall, biting and suckling down her pulse points.

“Mmm, leave a mark.” Casey sighed against the side of Liv’s face, her hands lost in her lover’s hair, her hips rutting towards Liv’s, “and please, please, take me to fucking bed.” She nipped at her girlfriend’s jaw.

The detective thrust her hips against her, pinning the young woman tighter against the doorframe, getting her to cry out. She got a tight grip on her lover’s backside and whisked her into the bedroom, tossing her onto the bed.

Casey giggled as she landed with a slight bounce and grabbed Liv’s hand pulling her down on top of her. The sensation of Liv’s smooth skin against her own got her every time, sending chills up her spine. She brought her hand down to her detective’s core and teased her lightly with her index finger, slowly pushing the tip of her finger in and out tauntingly. The brunette whimpering above her, letting out little sighs and moans of pleasure. She whined as Casey brought her finger back up to her lips, “Mmm, my good girl, my detective. You taste amazing.” She groaned.

The brunette quivered at her girlfriend's words and brought her body down to meet her. She flipped on to her back pulling the redhead on top of her, kissing her and pulling at her lip. “Finish what you started, Counselor.” She licked her lips and grinned, “Fuck me, and don’t stop.”

Casey let out a sultry chuckle and then traced the tip of her tongue slowly down Liv’s body straight to her center, giving her clit a swift flick. She gave pause to look up at her detective whose lips were curled up in a smile, eyes closed tight. “Look at me baby,” the redhead instructed running her hands up and down her girlfriend’s upper thighs, once the brunette locked her eyes on her, she ran her tongue over Liv’s sensitive bud and then delved into her slick heat. The brunette was already dripping as Casey began to slowly thrust her tongue, pulling Liv’s thighs to go deeper. Liv’s hands were desperately reaching to hold on to any part of Casey and ended up running her nails up and down her arms.

Liv cried out in relief, “Case, I’m so close.” She ground her hips down against her girlfriend’s face, their eyes still locked on each other.

The redhead moaned into her lover as she continued, not letting her gaze waver as she felt Liv contract and flutter around her tongue. Instead of stopping she gripped her girlfriend tighter and continued tongue fucking her as the orgasm subsided and then after.

“Ohhhh, Ohhhh.” Liv was practically screaming, she was trying so hard to keep eye contact as Casey moaned over and over again into her wet center, her nectar dripping down the redhead’s face. She couldn’t form words, not even to scream her lovers name the way she wanted to as she came toppling over her edge again. Her jaw hung slack, her body shivering. She went to pull herself up, but Casey pulled her back down not letting go as she cleaned up after herself.

“Not yet baby, I need at least one more from you.” She cooed causing her lover to shudder and jump under her touch. “And this time, I need you to wait until I say so, okay?” She kissed her way up Liv’s inner thighs watching her face for a response. Liv nodded as she tried to refocus and catch her breath.

                “Verbal.” Casey quipped, laying a soft kiss on her girlfriend's sensitive bud as the brunette tried to rut against her. “Ah,” the ADA moved back, “talk to me Detective.”

                “Please Casey, don’t stop.” She mewled.

                “You sure, you sure you don’t want me to give you a break?” Casey teased. Her fingertip toying with Liv, running it up and down through her slick and then bringing it to her mouth. She giggled knowing exactly what she was doing as she drove the brunette wild.

                “Please don’t stop, please, please.” The detective begged, rutting her hips in search of contact.

                “Mmm, that’s Daddy’s good girl.” Casey grinned as she slipped two fingers in and began thrusting slowly, gently curling to massage Liv’s g-spot. She let her jaw hang as she mocked the brunette’s expression and let out a small gasp. “Mmm you feel so good baby,”

                Olivia couldn’t keep her eyes open anymore; she threw her head back whimpering towards the ceiling. She could feel herself getting close. “Case, Casey, I”

                The counselor shook her head, “not yet beautiful. Just hold on for me.”

                Liv brought her hands to head pushing her palms down over her eyes. She didn’t think she could hold out for much longer. “Please Case, please.” She whined.

                “Come on baby, you can wait, almost there.” The redhead slowed down again bringing her tongue down, pressed it against her lover’s clit languidly stroking circles on it and moaned loudly. She could feel the brunette start to clench.

                “Ca-ca-ca-Casey! Casey.” The detective gasped, she was going insane, her hands flailing, and she slammed her hand against the headboard a few times.

                “That’s it baby, scream my name and I promise I’ll let you get relief. Come on baby tell me who makes you feel good.” She kissed her clit still fucking her slowly with her fingers, “You want to come, don’t you?”

                “Mmm, fuck.” Liv panted, “Casey! Ohhhh! CASEY!” she began whimpering.

                “Louder.” The counselor began to pick up the pace, thrusting faster.

                The brunette obliged as she rolled her hips against the ADAs fingers. “Oh G-d Casey, don’t stop.”

                “Louder.” The redhead said again, she smirked. Olivia screaming her name like that had her throbbing and dripping down her own thighs. “And look at me,” she commanded as she picked up the pace again.

                The detective groaned, she could barely keep still but she did as she was told and opened her eyes. They were glossed over, drunk with arousal, a grin sprawled across her face as she locked onto Casey’s green eyes. Her entire body was pulsing as Casey began fucking her as hard and fast as her forearm muscles would allow. The brunette’s lip quivered uncontrollably; the scent of Casey’s perfume mixed with their sex intoxicated her.

                “Ohhhh, C-c-Casey, Oh my god Casey!” She was screaming now, her mouth hung open trying to keep her lover’s gaze. “Fuck baby, please let me come. It’s thr-throbbing,” she whimpered.

                The luscious lawyer pulled her fingers away bringing everything to a grinding halt. The brunette’s eyes shot open as her body sputtered out. The redhead quickly brought herself up and straddled Liv bringing her sex down onto her lover’s core. She brought her hand back down between them and began thrusting again, she rolled her hips as she did which caused her arousal to start drenching Liv.

                As she could feel herself building up, she could feel the detective barely hanging on. “Now baby,” she mewled as she started to get hot, seconds away from orgasm. “Come with me.”

                She didn’t even have to repeat herself as Liv soaked Casey’s hand, making unintelligible sounds at top volume, her breath staggered. The redhead felt her own walls flutter as she came hard, grinding down against her girlfriend. She collapsed forward, their uncovered breasts brushing, touching each other as she smiled against her girlfriend’s lips and kissed her passionately. She rolled off and laid her head against Liv’s shoulder bringing her hand to her lips licking her fingers clean of her girlfriend.

                “You didn’t think we were done, did you?” Liv maneuvered herself on top of Casey, her thigh pressed up against the ADAs hot, wet, heat. The redhead let out a gasp and leaned her head back. Liv pulled her gaze back to her, pressing her thumb and forefinger to her chin, “Where you going baby? Look at me.” She slid her free hand down between them, sliding two fingers into her girlfriend’s core. She let her mouth fall slightly open and her eyes rolled in ecstasy as she felt how wet Casey truly was for her. She still held her chin to make sure the ADA was watching and knew how much pleasure Liv got from touching her.

                Casey let her facial expression match Liv’s as she watched how much her girlfriend enjoyed fucking her. She bit her lip and moaned, “Mmm baby, I love how you feel.” She rutted her hips against the brunette's hand.

Liv happily began to pick up the pace, sliding in a third finger and slamming into the redhead fast and hard. “Come on baby, don’t hold back on me, let it out.”

The counselor was mewling and whimpering loudly as she could feel everything building up. It felt so good she had tears welling in her eyes, so good she couldn’t get words out, just a loud moan as she came against Liv’s hand who continued to fuck her until the orgasm was over. The detective collapsed against her, breathing hard and smiling into her neck.

Casey couldn’t help but smile and run her hands through Liv’s hair. “That was—” her chest heaving.

                “Amazing? Incredible?” the brunette chuckled.

                “Hot.” Casey stated kissing the detective’s forehead. “You did so good.” She pursed her lips and traced her fingertips across Olivia’s bare chest. “The way you were so—aggressive in the doorway.” She bit her lip, her eyes sparkling.

                “Shit Case, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so rough.” Liv sighed.

                “No, no,” The counselor kissed her, “I liked it, it was very sexy. I would’ve told you if I wasn’t okay with it. Promise.”

                *****

“Good morning, got your confession?” Captain Cragen smiled as he entered the squad room. He was in a rare, good mood.    

Liv stretched and yawned, “Yeah, nine hours. Guy held out for nine hours.”  

“Hmm, well, the desk sergeant asked me to bring this up” he handed her a large manilla envelope.

The detective took it from him and looked at it with curiosity.

“Want a cup of coffee?” the captain asked as he headed to the machine. He really is in a good mood Liv thought to herself.

The brunette nodded opening the envelope, “yeah and two eggs over easy, some hash browns and toast.”

Cragen turned to look at her, giving her his famous, “come on kid don’t bust your father’s balls” face.

Liv turned around with a smirk; “Coffee’s fine” Don turned to fix coffee as Liv read the flyer in the envelope. “Have you seen this child? Missing, March 22nd, 1980—Jeffery Ronson”

Her boss whipped back around to face her, “Jeffrey Ronson?”

“Yeah an old missing child flyer and a photo of Yankee Clipper Park. Somebody wrote an “X” in the right field corner. Look at this,” she put the photo down and pointed at it, “He is here.” As Cragen picked up the flyer Liv looked up confused as the captain’s face got somber.

The two of them drove out to the field in the photo after notifying uni’s to meet them on scene. “I’ll even get you breakfast after.” The captain said as they got in the car.

Upon arrival, “Jeffrey Ronson was seven when he disappeared in 1980. We spent the entire spring trying to find him.” Cragen explained.

Liv nodded in agreement, “Wasn’t there a guy you liked for this?”

The captain nodded, “Yeah Lucas Biggs.”

 “I remember Biggs, he got popped for that kidnap/murder down in VA. He’s on death row right?” The detective adjusted her sunglasses as they walked.

 “Not for long, he’s slated for execution next week.”

As they made their way down the field they were greeted by Melinda, who was standing in a very large hole, “Captain we have something. Got a hit off ground penetrating radar. Started digging, found this—child’s skull, buried face down.”  

“He’s still got his baseball jersey on.” Liv said incredulously.

Cragen nodded, “It’s gotta be Jeffrey, this is his neighborhood. He played ball here. If our case is active that means Biggs gets a stay of execution.” He and Benson headed back to the car.

The brunette shrugged her shoulders, “So he has help on the outside, someone hand delivered that flyer.”

The captain furrowed his brow, “Which he could’ve handed to anybody, so why’d he pick you.”

*****

                “You even manage to make somber funeral clothes look sexy” Casey smirked as they pulled up into the parking lot of Reutz & Son’s Funeral Home.

                Liv blushed, “Think so? I promise we won’t be here long then we can go grab some lunch.” She smiled and ran her hand along her girlfriend’s arm.

                “Babe I’d rather spend my day off at a funeral home with you while you question potential suspects than home by myself any day of the week.” She giggled and gave the brunette a quick peck. They both got out of the car and headed for the door, Liv slightly in front of Casey who followed behind in her footsteps.

                Liv approached the grieving parents as they entered the building, “Mr. and Mrs. Ronson I’m so sorry for your loss.”

                Mr. Ronson smiled halfheartedly, “Thank you, Detective. The guest book is right here, please sign in before the service.”

                Mrs. Ronson looked down, “Thank you.” she mouthed as Casey took her hand and gave her her most empathetic face. The ADA squeezed the woman’s hand before following behind Olivia.

                Morales was back in the mobile command unit explaining how the pen next to the guest book worked. Liv and Casey were visible on their surveillance cam. “She writes her name, and it translates everything to our wireless receiver.”

                Munch chuckled, “The magic of digital pens. Also remember we can see you and this is a sad occasion.”

                “Keep it up John, and I’ll put her about five different positions to make you blush.” Liv joked, mumbling into the mic in her jacket.

                Casey’s eyebrow went up as she whipped her head towards her girlfriend and mouthed, “What the fuck?” in utter embarrassment.

“So we just cross reference the names with the original case files.” Morales cleared his throat and changed the subject.

Munch realized he was being scolded for his silliness and readjusted, “Here’s one Deacon Brim, lived across the street from Jeffrey and was babysitting the night he died. Let him walk home alone. He was the last person to seem him alive. Liv, Case—we’re gonna need to interview Deacon the minute the service is over.”

The brunette leaned into her coat, “Copy that.” She placed her hand on Casey’s knee. The redhead smiled and put her arm on the back of Liv’s chair, her chest swelled with pride.

Morales piped up, “I’ve got another one, Avery Shaw.”

Munch checked his notes, “Played on Jeffrey’s baseball team. A week after he disappeared Avery remembered seeing Biggs talking to Jeffery.”

Moreles squinted at the screen, “Hang on what’s he doing. He’s leaving.”

Liv brought her mouth to her jacket again, “I’ll go talk to him.” Casey smoothed out the tails of her jacket as she stood up and followed suite.

“’Scuse me?” Liv called after Avery as she exited the building. “Avery? You alright?” she saw the man had been crying.

“I’m fine” he nodded. Casey hung back by the entry door in case Morales or Munch signaled her to grab someone else. “Do I know you?”

Liv lifted up her shield, “I’m Detective Benson. You left pretty quick.”

“Yeah, I couldn’t handle seeing all those people again,” he shoved his hands into his coat pockets and walked out towards the parking lot “I just wanted to say goodbye to my best friend.”

“You played baseball with Jeffrey Ronson?” Liv motioned to Casey to come over to them. Casey tilted her head and then began to walk to the brunette.

Avery nodded, “He played short, I played second.”

“Avery this my friend ADA Casey Novak, she also plays ball.” The detective put her arm on Casey’s back to bring her into the conversation.

The redhead nodded, “I do, I play first base, and our other friend plays short.” She smiled hoping that the common ground would get him to open up more.

This elicited a smile from the man, “We got a trophy once for turning the most double plays in the season.”

C- That’s impressive, we’re lucky if we make it through a game without someone getting injured.

Avery hands Liv a small, tattered photo of him and Jeffrey, “I can remember when we took that, Jeffrey yelled at Deacon for getting his finger in the photo.”

“Deacon Brinn?” the brunette asked?

The young man nodded, “He was like our guardian. He was older so he’d walk us home. Made sure we looked both ways before crossing. Do you think finding Jeffrey’s body will prove who killed him?”

Liv knew she had to be careful with her choice of words here, “We’re looking for evidence and re-interviewing everyone. Tell me about Lucas Biggs.” She followed him as he walked, Casey followed behind keeping an ear on the conversation.

Avery shrugged, “He had a huge stash of baseball cards. Everybody from Reggie to Goose to Tekulve and... He didn’t look like a pervert, he was cool.”

“So, you didn’t think that he’d hurt Jeffrey? Is that why it took you so long to go to the police?” The detective interrogated.

Avery stopped and got quiet, “Everybody was blaming Deacon for Jeffrey’s disappearance, I didn’t want them to blame me.

Liv tilted her head sympathetically, “Well, thank you for your time, Avery, I’ll let you know if we have any more questions.”

Avery nodded and gave a small wave to the redhead behind her, “Bye Ms. Casey.”

Casey smiled back and returned the wave, “Bye Avery.” It was easy to see there was still so much unprocessed damage going on with this man, she frowned sympathetically.

Liv turned towards her and took her hand. Ready for that food I promised?

The counselor shook her head enthusiastically, “Absolutely, I’m craving a good diner sandwich.” She swung their hands as they walked back towards the car.

The brunette pursed her lips in agreement, “Oh that sounds great, Skylight? Or would you rather stay around here?”

“No skylight sounds great; we have to get back to the precinct anyway.” The redhead smirked. They both got in the car simultaneously. The ADA wasted no time turning Liv’s face and pulling her into a languid kiss. “Mmm little deaths,” she sighed with a smile. “You were amazing with that interview. I love watching you work.”

Liv blushed, “You’re pretty amazing at what you do too counselor and how you picked up the cues to come coax him into more of a conversation about baseball.” She interlocked her fingers with Casey’s as they exited the parking lot.

*****

Liv walked outside with the captain as he headed to the coffee cart, “We got nothing from the funeral. Just a lot of fingers pointed at Biggs.”

Cragen nodded and thought for a moment, “I guess it’s time to talk to the man himself. I want you on the next flight to Virginia.”

The detective halted and then began walking again, “Really think he’s gonna talk? After all these years?”

The captain shrugged, “Maybe to you-- if he sent the map, it’s an invitation. Get your girlfriend to drive you to JFK.”

Liv stopped in her tracks.

Cragen scowled, “Yeah it was weird for me too. I was trying it on. Just imagine me being supportive but not out loud.”

The detective smiled, “You got it Cap.” she chuckled.

*****

Casey had tears streaming down her face as she drove, “Donald “Dad” Cragen said have your girlfriend drive you to the airport? Oh my god that’s great,” she laughed as she glanced at Liv in the passenger seat. “What did you do?”

“I froze,” the detective giggled, “it caught me so off guard I didn’t know what to do. The immediate regret on his face after was priceless.” She mocked the captains voice “‘Imagine my-- nonverbal support’” and then patted me on the back.”

The redhead guffawed, “Damn I miss all the fun. They have a car waiting for you in Virginia?”

Liv nodded, “Yeah someone from the Waverly PD is supposed to pick me up when I land.”

“Well, I don’t care what time it is when you get back, you better call me. None of this taking a cab in the middle of the night crap.” She ran her fingers over Liv’s thigh. “Promise you’ll call?”

“I promise babe. Swear it.”  She kissed Casey’s fingertips, smirking. “Just make sure you’ve had coffee because I may keep you up when I get back.”

The ADA put her hand behind her girlfriend's neck and massaged it as they drove, “I look forward to it.”

They pulled up into the departure lanes at JFK International Airport and Liv hopped out. Casey threw the car into park and jumped out grabbing Liv’s bag for her out of the backseat. “You better be careful Oliva Benson. Tell the pilot he’s got precious cargo on board.” She pulled her close, hanging from her lips and the holding tight to the lapels of her jacket. “Come home safely. I miss you already.”

*****

Biggs said across the table from Olivia, “Last time a cop came here he tried to pin the death of a boy from Louisville on me. Where you from?”

“New York City”

“You’re a long way from home.”  He sat down. “You must’ve heard they’re gonna kill me next week. Nothing like waiting till the last minute. You know how many of your colleagues have tried to get me to admit that I killed Jeffrey Ronson? Twelve”

Liv started circling the interrogation table.

Biggs smirked, he seemed unfazed, “That’d make you thirteen. Could be your lucky number.”

“Your girlfriend, Vivian…she used to work for the Ronsons.” The detective continued pacing. “Now tell me, Lucas, is that a coincidence?”

“It was the first time I saw him. I went to pick Viv up from work. Jeffrey was running around naked, screaming about having to get in the bathtub. His hair smelled like Mr. Bubbles.” Biggs closed his eyes as if he were reliving some twisted memory.

“Is that why you went to the ballpark to lure him away with you?”

“I never lured him anywhere. He wasn’t my type.” He looked down at the floor.

“You sure?” Liv said as she stepped towards him. “Cause I think you went back to the ballpark that night, Lucas. I think you kidnapped Jeffrey Ronson; you molested him and then you killed him.”

Biggs snapped, “Listen to me carefully. I never touched Jeffrey Ronson.”

“Then how did you know where he was buried?” the detective demanded.

Biggs shot her a confused look, “What are you talking about?”

“Why’d you send me these?” She placed the flyers down on the table in front of him. “You think it’s funny?”

“Next Friday, they’re gonna fry me like a piece of bacon. Why would I send you these now?” The prisoner pushed the flyers back at her.

Liv quirked her brow, “So we find Jeffrey, the case stays alive, and so do you.”

“What you don’t understand Detective Benson is I’m ready to die. I’ve made peace with my lord, he’s forgiven my sins, and Jeffrey Ronson” he paused, “isn’t one of them.”

                Liv grabbed her bag from the return and headed out to the pickup lanes at JFK. She only expected to be looking for Casey’s car but was pleasantly surprised to see her girlfriend posted up against it, hands buried in her trench coat. The redhead had a big cheesy smile as the detective approached.

                “Hey beautiful.” she pursed her lips and flashed her bedroom eyes at her girlfriend.

                “Hey yourself,” she pulled her close, inhaling the smell of her perfume and kissing her softly, “sorry on the short notice. I really thought it would’ve taken longer.”

                “More time with you is never something to apologize for. I just said it was case related.”

*****

                The detective’s had gotten a hot tip on Bigg’s financials. The records revealed that his ex, the Ronson’s old housekeeper, was still cashing Biggs’ pension checks. When Munch and Liv drove out to see her, she let it slip that Lucas Biggs had a storage locker for which she was still paying.

                Benson looked around in shock as her and John clipped the lock on the storage. She shone her flashlight in and saw what looked like shelves of baseball caps. “Oh my god.” She gasped.

                Munch flicked on the light, “There's gotta be a hundred baseball caps in here.” There was also a small table and chair facing the direction of the shelves.

                “Trophies, each one from a different victim.” Liv curled her lip in disgust as she motioned to CSU to come document everything.

*****

                Liv didn’t often dream about work but tonight it consumed every dream that had. She tossed and turned unable to get the thought of the storage unit out of her head. Casey rolled over, stirring from all of the motion on the other side of the bed. She squinted and noticed that her girlfriend’s jaw was clenched, and she was drenched in sweat.

                “Babe,” Casey whispered, “Liv, baby, are you okay?” The brunette was thrashing, the ADA could hear her teeth grinding. “Hey,” she sat up. “Olivia? Are you okay?” Casey was starting to worry she was having some type of seizure as she gently placed her hand on the sleeping detective in an attempt to rouse her from her nightmare. Before she realized what was happening Liv had shot up and had her in a chokehold. The redhead grabbed Liv’s arm in a state of shock trying to pull it away enough to get air and yell at her. “Liv! Baby let go!” Casey started smacking Liv’s arm “LIV! Wake up you’re hurting me!” The brunette had her tight and she was afraid if she let go she’d pass out. So in a last resort she took her free arm and threw her elbow back to jab Olivia in the gut. It was enough to jolt the detective back to a waking state and she let go startled.

                Casey jumped off the bed and turned around looking at Liv while rubbing her neck, “Son of a bitch! What the fuck Olivia?!” Her heart was pounding, and she tried to catch her breath.

                “Casey, oh my god, what was I doing? I’m so sorry baby, are you okay?” She scrambled to her feet to check on her girlfriend.

                The redhead retreated, her eyes wide in fear on the verge of tears. “Please don’t.”

                “Casey, baby I’m so sorry. Did I hurt you?” Liv felt the hot tears running down her face. “What did I do?”

                “You had me in a fucking chokehold!” Casey was still rubbing her neck. “You could’ve killed me.”

                “Baby I’m so sorry. I would never knowingly do that. I was dreaming about Lucas and that storage unit. I’m so sorry, please let me make sure you’re alright? Please?” She was in hysterics. The counselor’s face softened, and she accepted, flipping on the light. Liv’s face went white as she saw the red mark her forearm left on Casey’s neck.

                “Is it bad,” the redhead whimpered.

                “It’s red, can I touch you?” Liv let out a sob. The ADA nodded and the detective gently put her fingertips to Casey’s neck. “Does it hurt.”

                The prosecutor shook her head, “No, it just—scared me.” She looked at the hurt on the detective’s face, how could she ever for a second think that her girlfriend would do that on purpose. She brought her hands up to meet Liv’s and pulled the detective’s arms around her and held her tight.

                The brunette wept into her the crook of her neck. Casey hugged her tighter which made her wince in pain. “Ow”

                “Shit, Liv I’m so sorry. I was panicking and you wouldn’t wake up, so I jabbed you with my elbow.” The redhead gently lifted the hem of the brunette's shirt to make sure she didn’t grievously injure her. She ran the pads of her fingers along her abdomen checking for bruises, which thankfully she found none of.

                “Don’t you dare be sorry. I probably would’ve done the same thing!” She brought her chestnut brown eyes to meet Casey’s. She was doing that puppy eye thing that always melted Liv into a puddle. “Can I kiss you?”

                The ADA almost broke into pieces, “Olivia Benson don’t you dare ask if you can kiss me, of course you can. In fact I need you to.”

                Liv gently cupped Casey’s face and kissed her lips tenderly. “I’m sorry baby. I’m so sorry.” She kept placing tender kisses in between whispers of “I’m sorry.”

                “You think we can try to go back to bed? We have to be up pretty early tomorrow.” The redhead whispered.

The detective nodded, “Only if you’ll hold me, I’m terrified I hurt you again.”

Casey laid down and pulled Liv close to her heart, and wrapped her arms around her tight, “I’m not.” She kissed her temple.

*****

                Something about being in Casey’s sweater made her feel safe, like some sort of armor. However, she still had a knot in her stomach from last night's events. She waited for Lucas in the interrogation room once more, all of his “trophies” on display, a list of all of the inventory on a clip board in her hand.

                Biggs was taken aback as he walked to the holding cell and saw his collection. “You had no right to touch those!” The guard slid the cell gate open, and he waltzed through, pompous in his movement, “They gave ‘em to me! To remember them by. And I remember them. Their necks, their shoulders—their bellies. Always changing.”

Liv stared at him in disgust, her fingers tugging at her sleeve in an attempt to soothe her anxieties—it felt like having Casey with her.

“Turning from boys into men, right before my eyes.” He looked at the caps lined up on the tables and started to rattle off what shelf they were from as well as where he acquired them. The detective glared him down, her stomach churning. “They were always there, waitin for me in my room. Always there till I—need ‘em”

“Tell me their names.” Liv commanded flatly.

“Only if I can touch them.” Biggs pointed to the hats.

The brunette looked at the guard and nodded, “Take him back to his cell.” Her lips curled, she wanted to be rid of Biggs at this point. Then she had a thought as he was being led away. “You know what we do with old evidence?” She did not want to have to come back down here again. “We burn it, big old incinerator. Turns all this junk into ash in a heartbeat.” She tossed one of the baseball caps to the ground.

Biggs cringed and began to prattle, “That—that hat belongs to Randy Morgan. October 17th, 1979. Macon Georgia. This could be fun, do you want to go on?” He lifted his cuffs and Liv nodded at the prison guard to release him. He began to pick up the caps one by one and gave their location in the unit as well as who they belonged to and when they were acquired until finally there was only one cap left on the table. Liv watched him intensely with revulsion. Finally, he picked up the last cap, “Riverside Eagles.”

Liv smirked, she knew she had him now, “Jeffrey Ronson.”

“I told you I never touched Jeffrey.”

“Well then who’s hat is it?” she queried, annoyance and frustration present as she spoke.

“March 2nd, 1980, NYC, Deacon Brinn.” And handed the hat to the detective.

*****

                When Liv made it back to the precinct for the second time, she debriefed with Captain Cragen and George Huang going over everything she acquired from her visit down to Virginia.

                “Its been 25 years how am I going to get Deacon to admit what happened now?”

                George shrugged, “Tell him you already know.”

                Liv went meet Deacon later that afternoon, “Do you recognize this hat?” handing him a photo from the evidence inventory.

                “That’s the Riverside Eagles,” he said taking the photo from her. “That was my baseball team,” he said handing it back. “Where’d you get that?”

                Liv sighed, “We found it in Biggs storage locker, he had souvenirs from all the boys he had hurt. You were one of them.”

                Deacon looked down, his face sullen, “He gave me tips, taught me how to hit a curveball. I couldn’t believe it when he invited me to his place. He treated me like a grown-up. We drank beer, watched dirty moves, and then one day…” his voice trailed off.

                She handed him the photo she had received, “So that’s why you sent me this photo?”

                He took it and stared at it for a second, “How’d you know I sent it?”

                “You just told me.”     

*****

                Liv walked into Casey’s office only to find her at her desk massaging her neck which still bore a faint red mark. The brunette’s face dropped, “Hey,” she said weakly and closed the door behind her.

                “Hey baby,” Casey smiled up at her from the desk, “you need me?”

                “Always,” Liv shifted uncomfortably, the knot in her stomach still there, “Jeffrey’s parents are here. I thought we could talk to them together.”

                The ADA wrinkled her brow, “Hey, Liv, you okay?”

                “I’m fine.” She shook her head, waved her hand out in front of her and without warning burst into tears.

                The redhead flew from her desk to the detectives side. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong? Why are you crying babe? Are you hurt? Did something happen with Biggs?” She hugged her and then pulled back assessing for injury.

                Liv shook her head, “No, but you are.” The tears were free flowing as much as she tried to fight them. “I walked in, and I could tell, it’s hurting you and you didn’t tell me.”

                Casey looked at Liv, her puppy eyes soft and caring, “Baby you had a really bad dream and I know better than to wake someone up from that sort of thing. It was an accident. It’s okay, I’m okay.” She put her hands to her face in an attempt to soothe her. “Shh, I’m fine I promise.”

                “It’s not okay, how could that happen? What’s wrong with me?” the brunette continued to cry.

                “Nothing, nothing is wrong with you.” The redhead said firmly and kissed Olivia and refused to let it go. When she finally did she looked her girlfriend in the eye, “You are an amazing human being Olivia Benson, look how many people you help every single day. Look how well you treat me and care about me. If there was something wrong with you? You wouldn’t even be upset right now.”    She pulled their foreheads together and breathed in and out deeply until she felt Liv’s breathing regulate. “Come on baby lets fix you up a little and go meet the Ronson’s.” She wiped the brunette’s tears with her thumbs and tried to fix her eyeliner. She gave her a soft kiss before leading her back out into the hall.

                “So you’re convinced Biggs did it?” Mrs. Ronson asked across the table from Casey and Liv as they sat in the conference center.

                “Mrs. Ronson,” Casey took a breath, “we have a witness who can help convict Lucas Biggs of killing your son.”

                “How long would a trial take?” the woman said with agitation.

                “Depends, a year, maybe two.” The ADA tilted her head sympathetically. Liv sat next to her, arms folded trying to decipher the Ronson’s body language.

                “That’s years of going to court,” the woman said exasperated. “Talking about what happened, answering questions.”

                “Years Biggs gets to spend eating, breathing, watching TV.” Mr. Ronson interjected.

                “Yes,” Liv entered the conversation in a comforting tone, “But in the end, at least you’ll the have peace of mind that comes with knowing that the man who killed your son will pay for what he did.”

                The older man scoffed at this. “We were out having a nice dinner while that man murdered our son. Peace of mind won’t be coming anytime soon.” He shook his head.

                “We just want this to be over.” His wife said somberly as the detective looked down at the table. “Don’t stop the execution.”

                As she said this the door swung open and both Casey and Liv turned their heads. Don Cragen was standing in the doorway with a deadpan expression. “Olivia,” he beckoned, “Get your coat.” She stood up and hurried to the door to follow him, glancing back at Casey, mouthing “I’ll see you later.” under her breath with a sympathetic nod knowing the pair needed to have a serious conversation, and then rushed out to grab her things.

*****

                Munch met Oliva and the Captain down by the train tracks. “Engineer called it in, he thought he saw something go under the train. The body was cut in two.” They continued to walk towards the deceased.

                Liv leaned down and pulled the white sheet back from the victim’s face, “Deacon Brinn.” She sighed.

                “That’s his car over there,” Munch pointed. “Drove out to the middle of nowhere and jumped in front of the train.”  He said talking over his ringing cellphone.

                Liv stared down at the body, “He wasn’t ready to deal with what Biggs did to him.” Munch answered the call and Cragen stepped towards her as she continued, “He’s been burying it for so long.”

                “He sent you that note because he wanted the truth to come out.” The captain said softly.

                “The truth about Jeffrey but not himself.” Liv shook her head.

                “That was O’Halloran,” Munch called out, “He wants us at the lab.”

                Upon arrival O’Halloran began to show the two what he had discovered, which was the fact that the perp had taken chewing gum out of his mouth and stuck it to Jeffrey Ronson’s baseball jersey before burying him. The gum had a partial print that wasn’t a match to Lucas Briggs, it was however a perfect match to Deacon Brinn.

                “My victim is my perp.” Liv said in shock.

*****

                Back in the squad room Cragen stood up at the crime board, “So Deacon killed Avery and got away with it. He had a good life, a wife, and a kid. There’s no way he sent you a phone of Jeffrey’s grave.” He thumbed at the flyers on the board.

                “I screwed up.” Liv said hoping down from the desk, “I showed him the photo and the map. He knew that he had to lie about them so I wouldn’t suspect he’d killed Jeffrey.” She paced back and forth as she spoke.

“But why kill his friend?” the captain questioned.

                The brunette shrugged, “Probably pretty close to the edge after Biggs assaulted him.”

                “Deacon was angry at Biggs, but he redirected that anger towards Jeffrey, the younger version of himself. Its called identification with the oppressor.” Munch iterated.

                Cragen furrowed his brow, “Did he simply kill Jeffrey, or did he molest him too?”

                “I’ll bet he molested him,” Munch continued the psychoanalysis. The stress on Liv’s face was becoming clearer. “The kind of trauma Deacon suffered can warp a victim’s sexuality.”

                Liv’s heart was in her stomach, lost in her own thoughts, her own trauma from dealing with her drunk abusive mother all of those years caused her to become an abuser. The thought that even unknowingly she could raise a hand to Casey, her sweet Casey, her beautiful ADA made her sick to her stomach.

                “So Deacon doesn’t want to be the victim anymore. He becomes the victimizer.”

                “Until someone put a bullet in him,” the sound of Melinda’s voice snapped Liv out of her thoughts.

                “I thought he was hit by a train?” Cragen whipped around.

                “So did I till I X-rayed the body.” She pulled out the x-ray and handed it to the captain. “Nine-millimeter slug in his heart. I’ll put time of death around ten o’clock last night, two hours before the train hit him.”

                Olivia looked at the x-ray, her face contorted in confusion, “Could Deacon have shot himself?”

                Melinda shook her head, “No residue on his hands. Whoever killed him, put him on the tracks to make it look like a suicide.”

                “Maybe the same person that led me to Jeffrey’s body,” Liv supposed.

                “Talk to Deacon’s wife, find out where he was last night.” Cragen instructed firmly and dismissed everyone.

*****

                After speaking with Deacon’s wife Liv learned that he moved out months ago after a bout of marital issues.

                “Looks like nothing but a crash pad,” Munch mused as he and Liv assessed the apartment.

                “Then why’d he keep his desk locked?” the brunette replied prying the drawer open. “A bunch of mail.”

                “Love letters?”

                “Hate mail.” Liv said holding up a picture of Deacon and his family. Flipping it over she read the back, “Before the perfect American family, the after version won’t be as pretty. Deacon’s stalker knew about Jeffrey. They probably sent the flyer and the photo hoping that we’d collar Deacon.”

                “The stalker knew about Biggs too, here’s a clipping about his execution, the stalker wrote on it—‘He owned you then, I own you now.’” Munch held out the clipping.

                Liv stood up and studied it, “Deacon said he never told anyone about the abuse. So who knew?”

                “Pedophiles like to share their exploits,” John explained, “Maybe Biggs bragged to our stalker about molesting Deacon?” Liv cocked her eyebrow as she pondered the question.

*****

“Somebody murdered Deacon Brinn,” Liv spat, once again alone in a cell with Lucas Biggs. “Somebody who knew that you abused him.”

Biggs listened intently but piped up to defend himself. “I never abused Deacon, or any of the boys. I loved them.”

“Your love ruined their lives.” The brunette retorted, her hands folded under her chin.

“I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Come on Lucas, you know that’s not true.” She shot back immediately.

“What did I do wrong?” Biggs asked, seemingly in earnest. “I was born with these feelings. I don’t know why I have them, they were always there. It wasn’t exactly like I had a choice.”

Liv scoffed, “Neither did the 117 boys you assaulted.”

“I never hurt them,” he protested, “it never hurt me.” His eyes teared up slightly and Liv’s face softened.

“You were abused.” She said quietly waiting to see how he would react.

Lucas tried to speak only to get choked up. He would start, then stop, shift uncomfortably in his seat. Finally he let out a deep sigh and began to speak, his voice cracked, “My father left when I was a baby. When I was about nine this man moved in across the street. He was the only one I could talk to. He loved me, he cared for me and…that was how he showed it.” Biggs began to weep.

“I’m sorry,” the detective offered.

The prisoner now in hysterics stood up and tossed his chair across the room. He feel to his knees and openly wept, “I never meant to hurt the boys.”

“Lucas,” she stood up and walked over to him, she almost felt bad for him at this point, “Deacon Brimm is dead, so who did you tell about what you did?”

“No one,” he was still crying.

“There has to be someone, in jail? Someone who knew you back then? Somebody who knew about you and Deacon.”

Biggs looked up as if a lightbulb went off in his head, “There was a little boy, he used to follow Deacon and Jeffrey around. And Deacon used to look at him, the way I looked at boys…”

“What was his name?” Liv coaxed trying to get to the bottom of this once and for all.

“Avery, his name was Avery.”

“Hey baby, did you get it? The warrant?” Liv kissed Casey’s cheek as she hopped into the car.

“I got it, they’re waiting on you to serve it.” She reached for her girlfriends hand, but to her surprise Liv pulled away. “What’s that about?” she couldn’t keep her lip from quivering.

“I’m sorry,” Liv sighed, she sounded—distressed. “It’s not you.”

“It’s not you, it’s me? Are you really about to feed me that line right now?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Liv’s eyes stared a hole in the car floor before looking up, “Casey— what if I’m a monster?” a tear streamed down her face.

“What?” the redhead looked at her and then back at the road, “How could you even think that?”

“Look at these men, look at the people we put away. The abuse is all cyclical. I didn’t have the greatest homelife. Maybe, maybe it broke something. Maybe I’m just a switch waiting to be flipped.”

Casey grabbed Liv’s hand squeezed it and then brought it to her heart, “You listen to me! I don’t know what happened to you and you can tell me when you’re ready, but I know without a doubt that you are nothing like these people. Nothing. My heart would not beat this steady for a monster. You are a good person. I’ve known that since day one.” Her eyes now welling up as well as she tried to focus on driving.

“I wish I could believe you.” Liv sobbed.

*****

                Once everyone had donned their flack jackets, Liv kicked in the door to Avery’s apartment. As the rooms were cleared, Liv saw something in the bedroom that made her call out for the other detective’s attention, “John in here.” In front of her a wall that looked more like a crime board was plastered with photos and newspaper articles about Deacon over the years. “Avery’s been stalking Deacon for years.” She stated.

                “Check this out,” Munch pointed to the map behind her, “A map of all the train routes in Queens leading to Deacon’s house.”

                “Copies of the missing poster, just like the one he sent me,” the brunette picked up a flyer off the desk.

                Munch moved to check behind the bedroom door, “Deacon’s not the only one he’s obsessed with. Special Victim, special cop. Avery’s been stalking you too.” There were cut outs of all of Liv’s recent cases from the newspapers taped all over the door.

                Liv and Casey didn’t talk much when Liv got home. The redhead heard her come in but was scared that if they spoke Liv would still be in the same state as earlier and nothing good would come of that. The brunette crawled into bed and spooned the younger woman. She kissed her shoulder and wrapped arms around her. She pulled her close to breathe her in and Casey couldn’t help but melt, she grabbed the brunettes hands and pulled her tighter to her. It wasn’t long before she decided that wasn’t close enough and rolled over, laying her head against Liv’s heart and squeezed her tight. The ADA slept soundly, and her detective held her close all night and watched her.

*****

                Going through Avery’s bank statements, the squad discovered he had been making monthly payments to a woman named Kimber Faulk. The captain instructed them to go find out what he was paying her off for.

                “This is Theo.” Kimber said picking up the small baby from his crib. “Avery’s son.”

                “Is that what he’s sending you money?” Liv inquired.

                The young woman nodded, “Avery started supporting me the day I found out I was pregnant. The same day he left. Said he couldn’t handle being a dad.”

                “Nice guy.” Munch scoffed.

                “You don’t know Avery,” Kimber rebuked and put the baby back in his playpen, “He is the sweetest man I’ve ever known. The only thing we every fought about was having kids.”

                “You wanted them, he didn’t.” Liv added.

                “At least he was honest about it. When it came to having children he didn’t just have issues, he had a subscription. Someone really screwed him up as a kid.”

                “How often do you talk?”

                “We don’t. He just sends money.”

                “Then why does your phone show four incoming calls in the last two days?” Benson pressed. “All from Avery, where is he Kimber?”

                “I don’t know.” The young woman stated directly.

                “Tell me or I’ll arrest you for aiding and abetting a fugitive.” Liv wasn’t in the mood to play games. After pressing a few more times, the detective nodded to Munch to cuff her, and they led her from the building. Liv carried the baby as Munch walked her out.

                “What’s gonna happen to Theo?” she cried.

                John talked as he kept walking “Social services will take him in.”

                As they made it to the corner of the building another voice became present, “Detectives, let her go. Please.” It was Avery. “Please she doesn’t have anything to do with this.”

                “Stand back,” Liv commanded as she handed the baby off to a uni and drew down on Avery. “Hands on your head now.” She read him his Miranda Warning as he kept muttering ‘I’m sorry’ under his breath.

*****

                “I killed Deacon.” Avery blurted out as Liv entered interrogation.

                “I know,” Liv said, “and I know why. We searched your apartment and I read your diaries. What, I don’t know, is why you sent these to me?” She placed the photo and flyer down on the table.

                “I thought you’d figure it out.”

                “You could’ve gone to anyone in the precinct with what you knew. Why me?” Liv questioned.

                Avery sat down, “I read about you in the papers, about how you never sleep when you’re on a case. About how your whole life is about helping kids.”

                The brunette shook her head, “Same with my partner. Same with any of my colleagues. You singled me out.” She tossed a file onto the desk, “You stalked me for weeks.” She opened the file to expose pictures of her coming too and from work, her and Casey at the airport, having dinner. She was more bothered by the fact that he had pictures of her girlfriend then of herself. It was her job to protect Casey and she’d been failing miserably. “Why?”

                “There was just something about you.” He tried to explain, “I knew you would understand. You and me—we’re so alike.”

                “No we’re not alike.” Liv snapped. Casey who was standing on the other side of the glass flinched at this exchange. “You killed a man.”

                “So have you.” Avery quipped.

                Liv stood up, “I didn’t have a choice. You did it as revenge.”

                “No!” Avery followed suit and stood up too. “I went to Deacon’s apartment to confront him, and he said he was sorry, but he was lying! He was still hurting children.”

                “How do you know that?” Liv demanded.

                Avery’s voice wavered, “When I went in there he was watching a tape. Deacon with a little boy.”

                Outside interrogation Captain Cragen was waiting with Casey and Munch. “John call CSU and you and Olivia get back to Deacon’s and find that tape.” Munch nodded and set off down the hall.

                “If there is one,” Casey called after him. She was bitter this man was getting to Liv and it was putting a strain on her girlfriend and on them as a couple.

                “Can you arraign Avery tonight?” Cragen asked quizzically.

                “Why do you care? He’s a murderer.” she asked in confusion.

                “Because he’s also a victim.” He sighed.

                Deep down Casey knew he was right as her demeanor tempered, she nodded and grabbed her briefcase. “Lights and siren, we might make it.”

*****

                Back at Deacon’s apartment Liv, Munch and O’Halloran were able to locate both the video and the camera. What they weren’t expecting was for the tape to reveal that Avery was innocent despite his confession and that the real killer was Deacon’s wife who found out how he was abusing their child.

*****

                “Why now?” Liv asked Avery, the two of them back in interrogation. “After all these years? What made you want to end it now?”

                “Kimber got pregnant, and I got scared. I didn’t want to hurt the baby.”

                Liv tilted her head, “Hurt the baby how?”

                Avery began to cry, “Have you ever been afraid of what might be inside you?”

                Liv stopped for a second but played it off, “What do you mean?”

                “I can’t help thinking there’s like a switch inside of me,” Avery stuttered, “Just like it did in Deacon. And I’d start hurting kids.”

                Liv swallowed hard. In her mind she was flashing back to Casey terrified of her in the dark of their bedroom. The fact that she could’ve killed her. The way she jerked her hand away from her in the car the night before. She didn’t think she’d ever felt so sick in her life.

                “And that’s why I left my son,” he continued as he wept.

                “You’re not a monster Avery,” the brunette shook her head. Why was it so easy to say this to a stranger and so hard to believe about herself?

                “How do you know?” Avery sobbed as the detective knelt down next to him.

                “Because you didn’t shoot Deacon. Because you love your son so much that you were willing to give him up to protect him. And the truth is—you didn’t have to.” She turned and nodded as Kimber and the baby approached to see Avery. Liv stayed for a second to watch as Avery smiled and held his son for the first time.

                She headed to the lockers to get changed for the evening. Elliot headed towards her with a cup of coffee. “You heard about Biggs?”

                She nodded wrapping her scarf around her neck, “Prison doc declared him dead 12:01 A.M. No last words.”

                Elliot sat down on the desk, “I guess he left enough of a legacy.”

                The brunette paused for a minute as she put on her jacket and grabbed the rest of her stuff, “Before you had kids, you ever worry what they’d be like?” She questioned her partner.

                Elliot looked up at her, “All the time, I still do.” He shrugged.

                “At least you and Kathy know what you’re passing on.” She slung her bag over her shoulder. “Half my genes are drunk; the other half are violent and cruel.” She walked past him to leave, her eyes teary.

                “Look how great you turned out.” She froze as he continued, “It’s not all about the genes, Liv. All you can do is love your kids.”

                She nodded her head a few times trying to compose herself before turning around to face him, “Goodnight.” She whispered.

                Casey opened the door to her apartment and called out, “Babe? Hey I got Wo-Hop.” It was eerily quiet in the house. “Maybe she crashed from a long day?” she muttered to herself as she put the food down on the counter. “Liv?” She called out again to no reply, so she walked back to the bedroom to see if maybe she had passed out in bed already. When she walked through the doorway, she saw that the bed was still made from that morning. “Olivia? Babe, are you home?” She knew she left the precinct way before her, she had to be home by now. The redhead rounded the corner into the bathroom only to find that Olivia wasn’t there either. Then she saw it and her heart sank into the floor. All of Liv’s stuff was gone from the countertop. The ADA raced back into the bedroom trying to think over the pounding of her heart in her ears, no clothes on Liv’s side of the closet. “No, no, no,” she could feel the tears forming in her eyes as she made her way back to the kitchen only for her eyes to fall on shiny silver lament, the key she had given Liv was placed neatly on the counter next to an envelope labeled “Casey.” The counter they had kissed each other against so many times, forgone breakfast craving only each other, midnight coffee cuddles. She sank down to the floor, if she could’ve found a way to crawl beneath the boards she would’ve. The tears now flowed hot and angry down the redhead’s cheeks. She couldn’t move, frozen in the ache of her detective.

Read Part 11

[luv-gukkie]

cherry | 𖦊 : six

pairing: yandere! park jimin x f. reader, yandere! jung hoseok x f. reader

genre: fluff || smut || non-idol au || yandere

summary: you’re the cherry on top of everything. the little girl in front of your parents; the gooody two-shoes of your family, friends, and everyone who knows you. so when you’re staring at the two bright, red lines on the pregnancy test. you know you’re fucked, you really do. especially when there’s not only one man, but seven.

word count: +1k

tags/warnings: nothing really!

notes: jimin is kinda catching up…hoseok made an appearance!!!

tag list: @bananamochidaisy @mageprincess7 @darkuni63 @princess-sunshyn @redeyezbloodymouth @bxcndd @iloverubberduckiez-blog

༻❤︎︎ ★ ★ ❤︎︎༺

jimin's eyes stared back at the man in black. "i want you to do a job for me. an important one." the other man nods in agreement, "follow this girl. she's someone that i'll do anything for, she's my soon-to-be fiancé." jimin hands over a file with all your information and even a picture of you. he watches the man eye the file, flipping the pages and finally, he stretches his hand out in agreement. jimin smiles, "the money will go straight to your account. my assistant will email you the rest of the details of where to meet and more." shaking his trusted man's hand, "take care of her for me, and of course, yourself seo-jun." the man leaves without uttering a word, his food untouched and just his drink gone. always a quiet man with a taste for expensive alcohol just like when he was younger. jimin's head hurts after such a long day, he misses you already and yet, he doesn't want to see you. he feels anxious every time he thinks about, doesn't know what to believe. are you cheating on him? the purple-colored skin never leaving his mind. that's why jimin's gonna have seo-jun follow you, bring him back every tiny detail you do and where ever you go. he's not gonna lose to any scumbags you might be fooling around with. jimin isn't going to lose you.

seokjin spent the night with you. the pair stayed up until midnight, laughter filling the night with food placed all around the table. his eyes often glancing at the phone that stopped ringing with messages. never getting a chance to see who was texting you so much. you left him in your apartment eating by himself, promising to see him again after you come back from your classes. "why are you so busy all the time?" your best friend asked, a pout forming on her face. "just things, family things." you sat at your desk, greeting nolan with a small smile. "family, huh? do you visit them every week?" nolan questioned, a small smile on his face. "i try t—", "let's start the class!" the professor announced. but it didn't stop the three of you from talking to each other in secret. the lesson ended earlier than expected, all of you agreeing on visiting a coffee shop together. "i'll pay, don't worry." nolan took his credit card out with no problem. not a single glance at the price he was paying, just a quick swipe and he walked out without looking back. "thank you." you squealed at the excitement of having free food. "you're welcome. my parents finally put money into my account." he grinned, fiddling around with the card. after a while, all of you departed from each other with a good bye.

unaware of the man who watched the meeting from the corner of the room. taking pictures of the boy who offered to pay. his boss wouldn't like that at all. seo-jun send them all to his boss, who immediately responded. he drove behind the car the boy got in, following jimin's order to follow around the boy for the rest of the day. leaving you by yourself, no one left to watch you. not that you noticed either. after getting home, you called your parents for your usual meet up. you lived about two hours away from them. the two still living in your childhood home, where you learned to ride a bike and where you went to school. all your innocent memories. you yearn to ride a bike around the streets you used to run in. maybe a visit back home wouldn't be too bad. "i think i might visit you two." you say to the the phone that shows your parents' face. "oh please do! we miss you." their faces filled with happiness at a chance of seeing their daughter. "this sunday?" your parents quickly nod at the suggestion, "we'll have a small barbecue with the family!" you hear a door open from your phone before hearing a child's voice causing you to beam. "(y/n)! i miss you, please come back to visit me." your little brother begs, baby face pouting and tears at the brim until you finally accept. "i'll see you soon, mateo. bye!" you make a kissing face at the screen before it turns completely black.

a sudden knock at the door has you jolting up in fright. "who is it?" your mind wanders if you were supposed to meet with somebody until it hits you. you check the date and time, remembering the plans you made with a certain someone. "oh c'mon, did you forget me? already?" his voice yells through the locked door. you rush to open the door and let the bright man in. his presence immediately making your lips turn upwards. "hobi!" you shriek as he brings you into tight hug, spinning you around. there's peony flowers that he hands over to you after letting you down. a cute, huggable teddy that holds a heart filled with coconut filled chocolates. hoseok begins to speak without a single take for breath. he goes on and on about everything that has happened since two weeks ago. hoseok goes on to put the peonies into a vase, changing the other flowers that he brought. "i've missed you." you blush at his words, a little grin plastered on your face. "you did?" he hums in response, "i went to italy, brought back a couple of souvenirs for you." he tells you, pulling out a game board from his bag. "aww, you didn't have to, hobi." but all he does is shake his head, "of course i do. you're my girlfr-" he coughs in between, letting go of his sentence. "let's play. i'm gonna win this time." he smirks at you. "sure, hobi." multiple rounds later, hoseok and you are tied, always begging for another round. "i'll be right back. no cheating!" he yells in a stern voice while squinting his eyes. "i could never."

he comes back no later, "who's is this?" hoseok's tone is serious. your eyes widen at the blue toothbrush he carries along with him. "why do you have two?" his questions don't come to a stop. "who's been sleeping here, (y/n)?"

[desires-of-chain]

Once again inspired, this time the 'guard paying a nightly visit to a royal reader' idea posted here. I couldn't decide which Link to write for this one, so I kept it vague for any one of your choosing!

This one got? Dare I say the slightest smidgenest conemplative? About Link's position as a knight, but that may just be me looking too into it lmao. I've noticed I keep accidentally putting story implications in my smut, so see that extra layer, or not, to your hearts desire.

Hope you enjoy!

- wizard anon

Content: gender neutral reader, misc link (up to interpretation), names and titles, fingering, brief voyeurism. Besides that, regular ol penetration. Word count: 1056

He waits approximately seven minutes past the change of the guard before he’s slipping through your chamber doors. He rationalises it in his head, like every time before - what better way to ensure the royal’s safety than to be in their room? Better yet, their bed? What if the threat skips the halls, and comes straight in from the window? He can shield you with his own body.

There’s a plan about these things. On nights where Link is on the night shift at your door, he will wait until the patrol has gone by, then he’ll pay you a visit. Sometimes you dress up in something cute for him, sometimes he has instructions for you to carry out before he arrives, sometimes it's a lot simpler than that - but waiting until the guards pass by has been the one point he never seems to stick to, no matter how hard he tries. It's near impossible, he thinks, imagining you preparing yourself just on the other side of the door, or lounging in sheer, soft fabrics just waiting for them to be pulled off. He may be trained in many disciplines, but the pair of you did not get into this arrangement through discipline, and definitely least of all restraint.

So he slips in through your doors. And is immediately rewarded for his impatience by the sight in front of him.

You wear a sheer nightgown, delicate fabric draped off your shoulders and spilling around your body as you lay on your side. There’s a book on the pillow next to your head, spread against it in such a way as to keep your page without a bookmark - a hasty discarding in favour of an activity he much prefers.

He watches, enraptured, as you sink two fingers back into your wet hole, too caught up in your own pleasure to even notice his presence. Your pace is slow, languid, enjoying each drag and movement, face half shoved into your pillow to muffle your noises. He's caught between watching you pleasure yourself - a sight most beautiful - and making himself known so he can partake in you himself.

“Mmmm… Link…”

His mind is made up immediately.

“I'm right here, your highness.”

You freeze, turning your head to look up at him sheepishly.

“You're a bit early, sir.”

Link nearly audibly groans at the title, but instead chooses to kneel on the edge of the bed and drink you in.

“I think I’m right on time, actually,” he pushes you gently onto your back, pulling your hand out of your hole in the process. “Are you prepped enough, your highness? Or do you want some assistance first?”

You stare up at him wide eyed, still coming out from the haze of your pleasure. He rubs his thumb gently on your skin where it rests on your arm, patiently. When you shift your legs open, nightgown bundling at your hips and head turning to look away shyly, he grins.

“Some assistance is much appreciated, sir.”

He does groan, this time.

You hand him the bottle of lube you were using, and he applies a generous amount to his fingers before sliding them into your hole slowly. You gasp, tightening around him. His fingers are rough with callouses and thicker than your delicate digits, and he drags them against your walls purposefully, watching your hole clench around him.

You're gorgeous, so pliant and pretty laid out like this. He gets to open you up, touch your soft skin with his rough hands shaped by swordsmanship and a duty to protect - he gets to do more than just lay down his life for you. He's too lucky.

“Link…I’m ready for you, sir.”

With one last press, he pulls his finger out and shifts to free his cock from the confines of his uniform. He doesn’t bother trying to take it all off - that’d take much too long, and he has a feeling you like it better that way, anyway. Instead, simply untucks himself, gives himself a few strokes with the lube, and then he’s pushing into your hole.

You groan together as he fills you up. Delicate hands reach up to tangle in his hair, then he’s being pulled forward into a kiss. Goddess, your lips are soft - delicate and slow you press against him, the complete opposite of the debauchery of the situation. You're gentle with him, like you're incapable of comprehending the violence he commits for you as a knight, like he's just as precious as you are. He drinks it up, even as he shifts his hips faster, chasing his own pleasure with your body. Before long your lips fall from their gentleness into open moans, hot against his mouth. He drinks those up too, his own open against yours, then shifting down to feel their vibrations from your neck, licking and kissing the skin.

“Link, please, more...!” Your hands clench at his hair, and he follows his command like the loyal soldier he is. He pounds into you, shifting one of your legs to be propped up on his shoulder, and bites your thigh for good measure. He knows better than to mark up your neck, but your thighs will remain hidden under your royal attire - so he’s free to remind you of himself for days to come across them.

Your moans ring out through the room, and he wonders if the patrol has come around yet. If they could hear you being pleasured so completely by him, his own presence missing from the doorway an obvious tell as to who has captured your attention, and been captured by yours in turn. It only serves to turn him on even more, hips stuttering as he reaches the edge.

“I’m close… where do you need me, your highness?”

“Inside, please… touch me, Link.”

He may not have patience, or discipline enough to know that fucking royalty probably isn’t the best way to secure his job, but he will follow his orders til it sees him run through. He shifts a hand down to touch your most sensitive parts, teasing you with his thumb as he pistons into you, all rhythm lost in favour of blind bliss. And when you orgasm, shuddering around him with a gasp and a sigh, he fills you up completely.

Only the best for his majesty.

---------------------------------- KLJDSAFNDSAFL I LOVE THIS, GOOD SHIT RIGHT HERE, THE GOOD STUFF!

[luckbealincoln]

Best Kept Secret

chapter seven : just friends

THIS SERIES HAS BEEN MOVED AND RE-UPLOADED TO ANOTHER ACCOUNT. WHICH CAN BE FOUND HERE. THIS POST STILL EXISTS AS AN ARCHIVE BUT THIS ACCOUNT IS NO LONGER ACTIVE!!

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 3.1k

summary : you set some ground rules

warnings, etc. : language, smut, oral sex m!receiving

Maker it feels like it’s been an hour and you’re both just laying here. He was just inside of you; it shouldn't be so hard to find something to talk about at this point. Yet you can’t think of a single thing to say. So you sit up on your elbows and sigh, hoping he’ll take the hint and speak up but all he does is mimic your movements. 

For a guy who was being pretty dominant a little while ago he sure is bad at taking control of the situation.

“Could you, um… maybe grab me a towel from the vanity?” Your voice is still a little hoarse as you gesture to his cum on your stomach. He nods as he stands, tucking himself back into his pants as he grabs you a rag before quickly returning and crouching next to the bed, gently wiping your stomach clean. He carefully reaches up and lays you back down before dragging the rag between your legs eliciting a groan from you as you wince slightly. 

“Sorry, I should have gone a little slower…” He throws the rag down before he starts rummaging through his pile of things. That makes you sit up straight, watching him as he pulls out a small canteen, passing it to you. “Drink mesh’la.” 

Your heart flutters.

That’s not good. 

“Okay. We need to set some ground rules.” You open the canteen and drink down a few sips of water before clearing your throat, handing it back to him. He closes it as he starts reattaching all of his equipment. Making you a little self conscious about your nudity as you wrap the blanket around yourself.

“Rules?” He pulls his cowl back over his helmet as he stands, walking back over to the bed to sit next to you. 

You need to put some distance between the two of you. Or at least as much distance is possible while still allowing him to have his way with you. 

“ This. ” You gesture at him. “You, calling me those things. You can’t do that, if this is gonna be a thing you cannot do that.”

“I’m not sure what you mean?” He lets out a small chuckle. 

You stand up, clutching the sheet around you before going to the dresser to find new pajamas. Turning back around to point at him once you grabbed something. 

“If this is going to be a recurring thing then we need to have rules. Now turn around so I can change.” He scoffs but he turns to face the wall as you drop the sheet, pulling the night gown over your head before going to sit back down next to him. 

“So this is going to be a recurring thing?” The way he says it with such mock seduction has you rolling your eyes as you reach over to the nightstand for The Smitten Paladin and a pen. 

“Not if you keep acting like that.” You open to the back cover and click the pen. “So I propose we come up with some rules.” He nods slowly. 

“Okay… what kind of rules?” He sounds a little skeptical as he watches you scrawl on the page. 

No Romance. 

“Nothing romantic.” You stab the pen down to put a period at the end of it. “This is purely sex so no lovey-dovey stuff.” You hold your hand up in front of the helmet. Your wedding ring shimmering in the lamp light. 

“Like the nicknames?” He asks, visor trained on the ring as you lower your hand back down. 

“Like the nicknames. We aren’t romantically involved so I don’t want to hear you calling me things like sarad’ika or mesh’whatever. None of that. I’ll allow it during sex but otherwise don’t bother.” 

“You’ll allow it? It seemed to me like you really liked it when I called you those things.” He snakes his arm around your waist, pulling you closer.

You bring the pen down to the page again. 

This is Purely Stress Relief. 

“Stress relief?” You can practically hear his eyebrows raising.

“Clearly, we’re both a little stressed. You’re busy watching me all day and I’m busy not being sexually satisfied by my husband. Therefore, this little arrangement will provide us both with stress relief. Keep us from being at each other's throats.” 

“So what… I’m supposed to just… satisfy your needs every time you get a little cranky?” His hands are taking the book and pen from you now. “You’re making me sound like some kind of prostitute.” 

“Do you have a problem with that?” You cock an eyebrow at him and he hesitates. 

“No I guess not.” He looks down at the page as he starts writing something, you have to scooch closer to him to see. 

the helmet stays on 

He turns to look at you almost for approval, watching as you frown slightly.

“What if I close my eyes?” You say hopefully, nudging his shoulder.

“It doesn’t work like that princess.” His raspy chuckle falling from the filter. “If you accidentally opened them I would never be able to forgive myself for taking it off in the first place.”

“Hmm… What if you cover my eyes with something? Or if it’s really dark?” You give him your best pleading eyes in an attempt to sway him and he sighs as he starts writing again. 

the helmet might come off at MANDO’S DISCRETION 

Good enough.

“Put down no kissing.” You point to the page.

“No kissing?” Maker, you wish he sounded less disappointed. 

“No kissing. It’s too intimate.”

“I was inside you.” He tilts the helmet down to glare at you through the steel. You point at the second rule. 

“That was for stress relief. No kissing, we aren’t a couple. We’re just…”

Shit what are you? He had said you weren’t friends but also you had been arguing… obviously you weren’t together, you were married. And you weren’t attracted to him like that. He’s an asshole, he just so happens to be really good at sex and always around. A convenience. 

“We’re just friends.” He says slowly as if sensing your distress. 

“Exactly. Friends with benefits.” 

“Okay.” He looks back down as he writes. 

no kissing 

if you say stop, i stop 

He hands you the book back to look it over, you nod, taking the pen from him as well. 

“Obviously the same goes for you.” You say, pointing at number six. 

“I won’t ever tell you too.” 

Your face is getting hot. 

“Well if you do I’ll stop.” You have to think for a moment before writing the next rule. 

Don’t Finish Inside Me. 

“Obviously.” He laughs as he looks from the page up to you. 

“Not worth the risk. Especially since this is a casual thing.” You add before writing again. 

No Sleeping Over. 

You raise your eyebrows at him, waiting for a reaction. 

“Are you trying to kick me out?” You can hear his grin. 

“No. Just a little warning though that you won’t be spending the night. It probably wouldn’t be a good look if Elaine and Lysa walk in in the morning and you’re lying next to me.” 

“Smart.” 

“Which leads me to my next point.” You point down to the book with the pen before writing. 

Nobody Knows. 

“Everything I said is true. If we were to get caught the consequences would be catastrophic.” You change your tone to that of a much more serious one as you tap the page carefully. 

“Of course. It’s our little secret.” 

“Exactly.” You close the book. “I think that’s everything.” He takes the book back from you and scrawls one last thing. 

don’t fall in love with me 

You have a hard time holding back a laugh. 

“You’re certainly confident in yourself.” 

“I’m irresistible, princess. It’s bound to happen eventually.” His grip on your waist tightens.

“Trust me. We don’t have to worry about that.” You roll your eyes.

“I’m just saying it’s a possibility. It could happen, and when it does I’ll have to leave for good.” 

“You’re hilarious.” 

What does he mean by that? That he’ll have to leave? You want to ask but he’s already speaking again.

“Just friends.” He holds his hand out for a handshake and you grab it, giving him one firm shake.

“Just friends.” 

This might actually work. You open the book one last time as the two of you look over the list. 

No Romance.

This is Purely Stress Relief. 

the helmet stays on

the helmet might come off at MANDO’S DISCRETION 

no kissing 

if you say stop, i stop 

Don’t Finish Inside Me. 

No Sleeping Over.

Nobody Knows.

don’t fall in love with me

This is easy, you can do this. You can have your cake and eat it too. You get to stay friends with him, stay married, and have your needs met. It’s the perfect plan. 

His fingers are playing with the hem of your nightie.

“So… should I leave now? Or is there anything else you want to do?” 

Should he leave? Yes. Do you want him to leave? No. Now that you know what you’ve been missing out on it’s harder than you thought it’d be to not want more. It looks like he’s already starting to get hard again and it makes your mouth water. 

“Well, you seem like you’re still a little stressed. And according to the rules I should probably fix that.” You’re playing with the belt that goes across his chest as you say it. 

“That is true, we wouldn’t want to break the rules so soon.” His hand starts sliding up your thigh but you gently push it away as you move to kneel in front of the bed between his legs. For once he doesn’t have something snarky to say as the helmet follows you. If you’d known it would be this simple to shut him up you’d have gotten on your knees ages ago. Your fingers play with the zipper of his pants as you rest your elbows on the Beskar covering his thighs. He’s still silent as you smile as innocently as possible. 

You want to tease him. Show him that you can be in charge just as much as he can. Also you want to know what he tastes like but that’s besides the point. 

“You know tomorrow is the first day of the week. Which means you have to take me somewhere… why don’t you tell me about that?” You run a finger over the straining fabric of his flight suit drawing a small breath from him. 

“Etyc girl.” He murmurs as he brushes your hair back a bit, away from your face. You should really start trying to remember everything he says so you can ask him about it later. “I thought I’d let you choose.” He keeps his hand on your face, rubbing circles against your cheek with his thumb. 

“Mhmm. What are my options?” You hum softly as you tug ever so gently at his zipper, watching with wide eyes as his cock springs free and slaps against his stomach. It’s even bigger and more intimidating when you’re this close to it. You reach your hand towards it but stop a few inches shy, looking up at him, waiting for him to continue. 

“Well… there’s a market in the city, that’s very well known, I thought you might like to shop for yourse-” He sucks in a sharp inhale as you lightly scrape your fingernails across the underside of his shaft, watching intently at how the Beskar tilts upwards slightly. You can’t bite back the smirk on your face as you wrap your fingers around the base of him. Maker your hand doesn’t even fully close around his girth. 

“That sounds nice, what’s my other choice?” You don’t stroke him, you just trace a vein with your thumb, that has him leaning back on his elbows as he gasps. 

“Maker- there’s a library in the- in the city.” He stutters out as you sit up on your knees so you can let a trail of spit fall onto the weeping head of his cock, watching as it mixes with his pre-cum as you swipe your thumb over his slit, lazily stroking him. You hum again in approval. 

“How about we go to the market this week and the library next week? Would that be okay Mando?” He’s managed to prop himself up more as he pants, watching you. 

“Sure thing princess.” He mumbles.

Stars he’s a sight. Leaned back like this, breathless. His thighs are tense under your hands as you bring them down slightly before leaning down to place a chaste kiss on the prominent vein on the underside of his length drawing a breathy groan from him. 

You’ve barely even started and he’s like this. It’s exhilarating to know you have the same effect on him that he has on you. 

“Why don’t you tell me all about the markets while I do this?” You look up at him with big doe eyes, unable to hold back the smug grin.

“You’re an evil woman.” He says under his breath.

“Oh come on, this can’t be any worse than what you did to me.”

“Be careful princess or I’ll bend you over right there on the floor and show you just how bad it can b- fuck…” Halfway through his sentence you started leisurely dragging your tongue up his length, effectively shutting him up. You pull back slightly. 

“Tell me about the markets Mando.”

“If you wanna play this game just know I’m gonna repay the favor at some point.” His voice is low and stern, you simply nod, scraping your fingernails delicately up his shaft again. 

“I look forward to it. Now start talking or you’re gonna be playing this game by yourself back at your cabin.” You pepper a few kisses at his base as you wait for him to respond. 

“Okay sarad’ika… They’re big, they take up nearly three whole streets.” His voice is low and one of his hands is caressing your face again. You take the opportunity to bite the fingertips of his glove so you can tear it off. He chuckles as he tangles his fingers in your hair as you start working your way up, starting at his base with kisses and small licks as you take your time. Hearing his breath quicken. “They um… they’re one of the largest markets in this system, they say you can’t walk the whole thing in a day.” 

“What else?” You know he can feel your breath against the head of his cock as you speak because he shivers ever so slightly.

“They have everything you might be l-looking for… most of the stands change at night, we’ll have to go a different day after sunset so you- so you can see it all.” He barely seems to be getting through it all as you finally take him in your mouth, swirling your tongue across his tip. Your jaw is already starting to ache so you start to work your way down, hoping to finish him off relatively quickly. Based on the way his grip tightens in your hair you doubt it will take long. You hollow your cheeks ever so slightly.

Maker the groan he lets out. None of your books could write a groan like that. 

You continue to work him into your mouth, gagging quietly every once in a while as you listen to the gasps and moans that slip out of the modulator, after he goes a minute or so without speaking you pull off of him, letting your teeth drag against him briefly. He hisses loudly and his grip in your hair tightens. 

“Gedet’ye mesh’la…” His voice is hoarse as he sits up. You tut quietly.

“I don’t know what that means.” You say mockingly as you bring one of your hands up to cup his balls.

“Fuck… don’t chayaikir .” He growls.

“Ask nicely.” You’re practically whispering it against his shaft as you press another kiss against his cock. 

“Don’t test me princess.” You can feel the burn against your scalp as he tugs you closer. It doesn’t faze you all that much as you continue staring up into the visor.

“Looks like I’m not the only one who needs to learn manners.” You can practically hear his teeth grinding as you gently squeeze him at the base, just hard enough to make him grunt. 

“Fine princess, you win. Please...” It’s barely a whisper but it’s all you wanted to hear so you happily take him back in your mouth, bobbing your head up and down, unable to take him entirely without choking so you use your hand to jerk off the rest of him. It doesn’t take much longer before he’s thrusting his hips up into your mouth. “Right there sarad, fuck, I’m close ad’ika, doing bid pirusti… dirty girl.” After a few minutes of messy thrusts he finishes and you feel the warmth spreading down your throat. You keep sucking, until he pulls you off, a line of drool going from his length to your swollen bottom lip. He’s laying back, chest heaving as you wipe the drool from your chin and swallow anything remaining in your mouth. He tastes like salt, metal, and something sweet you can’t place. You stand up and sit next to him, rubbing soothing patterns against the break in his armor at the side of his abdomen. 

“You deserved that.” You mumble with a grin. The helmet turns to face you. 

“Remember that you said that next time you’re whining underneath me.” He’s still a bit breathless as he sits up.

“Sure thing.” You beam at him. 

It’s quiet, almost peaceful as he zips his pants back up and the two of you just sit with each other. You want to lean your head on his shoulder but you’re pretty sure that would be breaking the rules so you resist. 

“You should probably go.” You whisper. You manage to keep your tone neutral. 

There’s a beat of silence. 

“Okay.” He stands and just like that he’s walking to the door. 

“Good night Mando.” You sigh as you turn to say goodbye. 

“Dress light tomorrow. It’s gonna be hot out in the city.” His tone is gentle as he opens the door and leaves. 

You stand and walk yourself to the closet, collapsing in an exhausted heap onto the blankets.

As you struggle to get comfortable there’s a dull ache in your chest that reminds you of how you felt the first few days on Naboo when you were longing for the company of your family. 

You ignore it. 

It’s normal for people to miss their friends. 

[lemoncrushh]

Seven Six Five - Part Five

Summary: They met once seven years ago. Now music has made them cross paths again.

Warnings: smut, body image issues, angst. 18+ ONLY!

A/N: Enemies to Lovers. This was originally written and posted in 2020, right before the pandemic, so the story takes place then with flashbacks of 2013. Harry Styles x Plus Size OC, written in third person.

Part Five Word Count: 4.9k+

STORY PAGE

29 February, 2020 - New York, NY, USA

Bronwyn walked home from the Corner Cafe after an early lunch meeting with Antonella. There’d been no celebrity sightings this time, although she found herself checking her phone for new messages from Harry. None had come yet, and despite her knowledge that he’d be busy, she couldn’t hide the disappointment.

Arriving at her building, she took the steps and shoved her phone into her coat pocket. When she opened the door, she smiled at the postman who was doing his Saturday deliveries.

“Number 102, right?” he asked.

“Um, yes sir,” Bronwyn replied.

“Have a package for you.”

The postman handed her a large, thin box and asked her to sign for it. Perplexed as she hadn’t ordered anything, and was not expecting any post, she noticed the Express label on the front and the California zip code.

“Thank you,” she muttered, her eyes on the package as she took the stairs to her flat.

Shutting the door, she leant against it as her fingers found the edge of the box and pulled the tab. Who would be sending her something from California, she had no idea, but when she pulled out the familiar album cover, she gasped.

Harry.

Setting the record on the counter, Stevie’s figure adorning the cover in a red dress as she crouched on a black and white chessboard floor, Bronwyn, took her phone out of her pocket and shook one arm out of her coat. Pulling up Harry’s contact, she began to text him with one hand.

Did you have a record sent to me through the post?

Placing the phone next to the album, she shrugged out of her coat completely and hung it on the rack by the door. Running her hands through her hair, she didn’t expect to receive a reply right away, but was surprised when she heard the notification.

Oh good, it came.

???, she texted back.

Suddenly, her phone rang in her hand, causing her to almost drop it. Answering the call, Bronwyn went straight into her objection and confusion.

“The postmark says California. Why would you have a used record shipped to me from there?”

She heard Harry chuckle through the phone, and instantly she regretted not giving a proper greeting.

“It’s not just used, love,” he said. “It’s mine.”

“Yours?”

“From my personal collection. I had it sent overnight from my house.”

“W- Harry. W-why would you do that?” Realising she probably sounded vulnerable, Bronwyn tried to laugh it off, making a joke. “You couldn’t find a copy here in New York? I mean, this one is in near perfect condition, but I don’t reckon this album is that hard to find.”

“Mmm…” Harry sounded, sending a vibration through the phone. “That particular one is.”

“How so?”

“Look inside.”

Opening the sleeve, Bronwyn pulled out a sheet of paper with lyrics on it. Although she recognised the handwriting, it took a moment for it to register. Stevie’s.

“Oh my God!” Bronwyn shouted.

“Those are Stevie’s original lyrics to a song on there that I really like,” explained Harry.

“‘Ooh My Love’. It’s one of my favourites too.”

“She gave them to me,” Harry said. “Now they’re yours.”

“Oh God, Harry, I can’t accept this!” Bronwyn gasped as she sat down shakily on her sofa, the record and lyrics still in her hands.

“Why not?”

“This is...way too special. You should keep it!”

“I want you to have it,” he declared.

“Why?”

“Because you lost your copy of the album. Mine was just sitting there collecting dust. And you’re the only other person I know who would appreciate it as much as I do.”

Chills ran throughout her body as Bronwyn tried to catch her breath and evaluate her emotions.

“I don’t...know what to say…” she finally murmured, feeling her eyes start to well up.

“Say you’ll have dinner with me tonight.”

“Oh, Harry I-”

“I’m free all evening after...six o’clock. I’d really like to spend it with you.”

Unable to hold back the smile that crept on her lips, Bronwyn instantly felt a pang in her chest as she remembered.

“Harry, I’d love to,” she admitted. “But I have to work tonight.”

“Oh.” She could hear the disappointment in his one little word.

“It’s a local band,” Bronwyn continued. “From Queens. They’re playing downtown, and I’ve done a write-up on them before so they asked me…”

Her words stalling with a jolt, she had a brilliant idea. “Actually...would you like to join me?”

“Oh, I-”

“You totally don’t have to. You probably wouldn’t get recognised too much, at least not a mob. But I could understand if you don’t want t-”

“I’d love to,” Harry interjected.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “Should be fun.”

“Great! Um...they go on stage around nine, and I have to be there a little early, so...meet me here around eight?”

“I have a better idea. I’ll come at seven and bring dinner.”

“Harry, you don’t have to…”

“Stop saying that,” he argued. “You have to eat, right?”

“Right. Seven it is.”

“Yes, it was a strain on her, watching her castles fall down…”

Bronwyn sang along to Stevie as she stood in the bathroom, preparing for the evening. Her hand shook as she applied her eyeliner, the thin pen slipping from her fingers and falling into the sink.

“Bloody hell,” she muttered under her breath and picked up the pen. “Get a grip, Bronwyn.”

Never had she felt so nervous before...a date. Was this a date? Harry had made it seem like it was, promising to bring dinner and all. However, she hadn’t wanted to be presumptuous, given that he was leaving in a couple of days. But, she didn’t want to think about that.

Putting the finishing touches on her makeup, Bronwyn slipped into her boots and had just stepped through the beaded curtain when the buzzer sounded. Seven o’clock on the nose.

“Hi love, it’s me,” she heard him call through the speaker, which only added to the butterflies gathering in her stomach.

Buzzing him into the building, she waited for the knock before opening the door. He stood on the other side, a bag in each hand and a grin on his face.

“I come bearing gifts,” he beamed, lifting both bags. “If you consider food and wine gifts, that is.”

“Well, who the hell wouldn’t?” Bronwyn quipped, taking one of the bags.

She headed for the kitchen, Harry on her heels. Placing the bag on the counter, she watched him do the same with the other bag before he looked at her.

“Hi.”

“Hi yourself,” she grinned. Then she turned back to the bags. “Okay, thanks for the dinner, have a good night!”

Harry chuckled which only made her lose her poker face and start giggling.

“C’mere,” he said, reaching for her.

Happy to oblige, Bronwyn fell into his arms, wrapping her own around his neck. She beamed up at him, taking in the twinkle in his eyes as he smiled back. Then tilting his head, Harry kissed her gently, his soft cherry lips tenderly caressing hers.

“You look incredible,” he cooed against her skin, his breath falling over her mouth.

“Thanks.”

“Now I’m worried I might be underdressed,” he remarked, stepping back to remove his jacket. He wore a simple graphic t-shirt with jeans that flared at the bottoms, and his black trainers.

“Don’t be silly,” said Bronwyn. “You look...perfect, actually.”

Harry’s lips twitched into a smile. “Thanks. I reckoned we’d be going to a bar so...didn’t dress up.”

“I might have sent you to change if you’d shown up in that blue jumper,” she teased.

“Heeeyyy.”

With a laugh, Bronwyn took Harry’s jacket and walked to the door to hang it on the rack. She could feel his eyes on her as she turned back around. She liked the way his gaze made her feel. She’d chosen one of her vintage dresses for the evening, a green and black chequered one with long sleeves. She’d always felt pretty in it, but the way he looked at her made her feel indescribable.

“I’ll get the dishes, if you open the wine,” she smiled as she passed him on the way back to the kitchen.

“Oh, yeah,” he blinked, reaching in the first bag. “Where’s your corkscrew?”

“Right drawer,” she said, grabbing two wine glasses and two plates from the cupboard.

Bronwyn watched Harry effortlessly open the bottle of wine, pouring a generous amount into each glass before placing them on her table.

“Hey, I hear Stevie,” he commented.

Bronwyn snorted. “Took you long enough.”

“Well, I was distracted,” Harry smirked as he reached into the second bag. “I hope salmon and greek salad is okay. I wasn’t sure if you ate meat, or had a preference. I should’ve asked, sorry.”

Bronwyn glared at him, then looked down and opened her arms wide. “Do I look like a picky eater to you?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Stop it, you.”

“I’m just saying…” Bronwyn shrugged. “But yes, that’s fine. Sounds delicious, really.”

As soon as their plates were loaded, Harry and Bronwyn took seats at her tiny table, a small candle burning in the center of it.

“Just realised this is my first time here at night. It’s really nice,” smiled Harry as his eyes darted around the room at the ambience. Candles were scattered about, giving it a warm and twinkling glow. “I like the candles; they’re very you. And they go with Stevie.”

Bronwyn’s cheeks blushed pink as she remembered lighting the candles before he came. “They’re not too much?”

“Not at all.” Lifting his glass, Harry urged Bronwyn to do the same. “Cheers.”

The nerves suddenly came rushing back again as Bronwyn took a sip of the light, crisp wine. She hoped it would ease some of the jitters, although she didn’t want to seem a lush. After a few bites of the delectable dinner, the record stopped, so she rose from the table to turn it over.

“I have to say,” she grinned as she returned, “it’s nice to listen to this again after all these years.”

“I’m glad,” Harry returned her smile. “Exactly when did you move to New York? Not sure if you told me.”

“Summer of twenty-sixteen,” she replied, lifting her glass. “Though sometimes it feels like yesterday.”

“Twenty-sixteen was yesterday,” Harry joked. “What was it like for you after you moved? Was it a culture shock?”

“Not really. At least not like I thought it would be. I’d already traveled here a few times, and as they say, New York is sort of a melting pot of cultures.”

“That’s true,” Harry nodded, his mouth full of salad.

“I met my friend Sylvia my first week here. She lived in this building then and introduced me to some of her friends. She owns her own tailoring shop downtown, and she helped feed my obsession for vintage clothes.”

“Kismet,” Harry grinned.

“Absolutely. I was helping her in her shop for a bit, just doing whatever she needed. I also worked at the Corner Cafe,” Bronwyn laughed. “Just to help with bills, you know. I got a few gigs here and there, but it wasn’t until I found Antonella...that’s my agent...and she started getting me jobs that things really started falling into place. And...well, here I am.”

“That all sounds wonderful. You should be proud.”

“I am. I don’t take anything for granted.”

“Good.” Harry laid his fork on his plate and leant forward. “I’m proud of you too, you know.”

Though his words did sound genuine, it was his tone that sent Bronwyn’s heart aflutter. Shifting nervously in her seat, she looked down at her plate.

“So is this turning into a When Harry Met Sally situation now?” she asked timidly. “We hate each other for years and suddenly become friends?”

“I never hated you, love. That was completely one-sided.”

Pursing her lips, Bronwyn nodded. “Fair enough.”

“Besides,” Harry smirked, another twinkle in his eye, “I believe Harry and Sally fell in love in the end.”

“Alright, so bad analogy.”

Harry’s cackle suddenly rang throughout the tiny flat and increased Bronwyn’s heart rate. She could feel the warmth on her face, and it wasn’t from the wine nor the candles. Wiping her hands on her napkin, she lifted her fork to take another bite of fish, unable to look him in the eye for fear she’d drown.

“I would like to be friends, though,” she heard him comment after a few moments, a small rasp in his voice. Lifting her gaze, she caught the dimple that decided to make its opportune appearance just before he added, “if not more.”

The Double X was a bar downtown, a block from where Bronwyn’s friend Sylvia lived. She pointed out her building to Harry before the taxi driver pulled up in front of the venue. She saw him reach for his wallet and stopped him, her hand over his.

“I’ve got this, Harry,” she insisted, handing the driver her card. When she detected the hesitation on his face, she winked. “I might let you buy me a drink later.”

Sliding out of the cab, Harry followed Bronwyn up the steps to where a large man stood to check IDs. He seemed to recognise Bronwyn, giving her a nod.

“'Ello Joel, good sir!” she greeted him. “I ‘ave comp’ny this evenin’.”

“I see that,” Joel remarked, jotting his chin out. “He have an ID on him?”

“Wha’? This be me best mate fro’ London, ‘arry Styles. You migh’ o’ ‘eard o’ ‘im!”

His mouth in a straight line that told Harry he was in no mood to play a trivia game of who’s who, Joel took the stamp he was holding and marked each of their hands. Once inside, the smell of smoke hitting them instantly, Harry chuckled in Bronwyn’s ear.

“What was that all about?” he inquired.

“I’ve been coming here since I moved to New York, so I know everyone who works here. When they first found out I was from London, they kept asking me to talk. Apparently they think everyone in the UK has a Cockney accent. So I sort of lay it on thick.”

Harry laughed as he ran his hand down her back. “Brilliant.”

Before she got the chance to recover from the chills his light touch had sent throughout her body, another voice boomed from behind the bar.

“London!” the man called. “Haven’t seen you around lately, sweetheart!”

“Been busy, love!” Bronwyn sang before pulling the strap of her camera bag over her shoulder with one hand and grabbing Harry’s with the other. She pulled him towards the bar, where she started the introductions. “Harry, this is Nikoli, though he prefers Nick. Only I’m allowed to call him Nikoli. And Nikoli, darling, this is Harry.”

“Pleasure, Nick,” said Harry, holding out his hand.

“Likewise,” nodded the bartender with a handshake. “You’re famous or somethin’, right?

“Shhh,” Bronwyn hushed with her finger to her lips before giving both men a wink. “So, are the boys here yet, Nikoli?”

“Yeah, they’re in the back. Should be out in a few. Can I get you guys somethin’ to drink?”

“Nothing for me just yet,” replied Bronwyn as she removed her coat, “but you can start a tab for Harry.”

Raising his brows, Harry glared at her. “You’re making me drink alone?”

“Only for now,” she beamed at him. “The wine from earlier is still getting to me. Besides, I have work to do.”

Shrugging out of his jacket, Harry claimed a stool and ordered a drink whilst Bronwyn removed her camera from her bag. He watched her as she seemed to set up her scene, deciding where to stand to take photos. She snapped a few of the empty stage before backing up, nearly bumping into him.

“Sorry, love,” she said, barely brushing her fingers across his thigh. “Mind watching my bag for me?”

“Course not,” he replied.

The look he gave her was enough to make her lose her cool and forget about the task at hand. With a quick blink, however, she turned back around and aimed her camera just as a pair of long, black denim-clad legs stepped onto the stage and took a place behind the drum kit. One hoot from the back of the room sounded as the rest of the band climbed on stage and slung guitars over their heads. Only the bloke in the center seemed to recognise Bronwyn, and he gave her a thumbs up before counting off the first song.

The band, somewhat of a cross between pop-punk and 90s grunge, were already three songs into their set before Bronwyn made her way back to Harry and the bar. With possibly the widest grin he’d seen on her face in the last few days, she paused in front of him, her chest heaving.

“Reckon I could use that drink now,” she declared with a wiggle of her brows. With her free hand on Harry’s knee, she leant forward. “Nikoli, darling, the usual?”

“You got it, babe,” called the bartender, grabbing a bottle of golden brown liquor.

“Are you having fun?” she asked Harry, catching his eye. Though she stood very close, she had to speak loud over the music.

“The time of my life,” he grinned, lifting his glass to his lips.

“Pfff,” Bronwyn sounded as Nick handed her her drink. “When they’ve finished this set, we can go sit over there.”

Harry followed her finger to where it pointed in the corner of the room, a large booth.

“Shall I go claim it now, before it gets too crowded?”

Bronwyn took a gander around the room, noticing in fact that it was starting to fill.

“Might be a good idea,” she nodded.

Sliding off his stool, Harry grabbed their coats and Bronwyn’s camera bag. “I’ll take these with me.”

“Thanks baby,” she beamed before planting a kiss on his cheek.

She didn’t miss the adorable look on his face before he turned for the booth. Catching the eye of Drea, one of the cocktail waitresses, she walked up to her.

“Hey girl, you look hot tonight!” exclaimed Drea. “And you brought some eye candy of your own, I see!”

“Thanks love,” said Bronwyn. “Listen, do me a favor? I hate to ask for special treatment but...well, he is rather special…”

“Say no more, hon!” Drea shook her head. “I got your back.”

“I owe you one!”

“No you don’t,” argued Drea. “You bring more business than anybody. It’s probably ‘cause of you we’re still open.”

Bronwyn watched Drea lift her tray and turn toward the booth that Harry now occupied. With a feeling of satisfaction, she set for the other side of the room to take more photos of the band.

After a couple more songs, the singer announced they were taking five, and the band stepped off the stage one by one. Camera in hand, Bronwyn began to cross the room when the singer stopped her.

“Hey, thanks for coming,” he smiled.

“Of course, Austin, you know I would, anytime you asked.”

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Austin looked at the ground. “That’s so nice of you.”

“C’mon,” beckoned Bronwyn. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

Austin followed her to the booth where Drea was just delivering Harry’s freshly made cocktail. As soon as Bronwyn began the introductions, she saw Austin’s jaw drop.

“No way!” he exclaimed incredulously. Then he looked at Bronwyn. “You know Harry Styles?”

With a gleeful laugh, Bronwyn nodded. Harry, no surprise, offered his hand to the young man.

“Nice to meet you, Austin. Sounding good up there.”

“Aw, thanks man!” Austin blushed. “I can’t believe you’d come to see us.”

“Well, to be honest, the company is the reason I came,” Harry smirked, side-eyeing Bronwyn who’d just slid into the booth beside him. She giggled when he squeezed her knee under the table.

“Ah, I get it, man. Bronwyn’s a cool chick. Her pictures and articles of us are probably the only reason we get booked for gigs anywhere in New York,” Austin snorted.

“Oh hush, you,” Bronwyn waved off his comment. “It’s because you’re good, and you know it.”

As Austin turned his head, he caught sight of one his bandmates who strutted over.

“Hey man, look who’s here,” he told him.

“No shit!” the tall blond cackled. “Somebody said he was here, but I didn’t believe it. Good to meet ya, man, I’m Jeremy.”

Jeremy and Harry exchanged hellos and handshakes, and soon enough, the rest of the band followed. Sipping on her drink that Drea had brought over, Bronwyn was happy to see her friends so elated. However, she didn’t want to make Harry’s appearance too big of a deal, so she was glad when the band returned to the stage. Grabbing her camera once again, she started to slide out of the booth.

“I’ll be back in just a few,” she paused to tell Harry. “I only have to take a handful of photos until the last song.”

“Okay,” he grinned, his eyes already starting to get glassy.

“Still having a good time?”

“The best.” Before she could anticipate it, Harry slipped his hand behind her neck and pulled her into a kiss. It only lasted for a second, but Bronwyn could feel it down to her toes.

“Be right back,” she whispered against his mouth.

That kiss made it hard to concentrate on her job, but Bronwyn managed to take several great live shots before opting for a break. Stopping at the booth, she smiled at Harry and returned her camera to its case.

“Going to the ladies’,” she announced.

Harry gave her a wink to which she responded with an air kiss. Once in the tiny stall, she let herself exhale loudly. All of the feelings she’d had that night seven years ago had returned full force. Not the bad feelings when she’d thought Harry had intentionally hurt her, but the good ones she’d experienced before that moment. Every nerve in her body tingled and her skin was on fire. She wanted him just as badly as she had that night...no, she wanted him more. A thousand times more.

At the sink, she splashed a little water on her face, hoping it would cool her a bit. It helped ease the warmth on her skin, but not the burning flames rising inside her body. With another breath, she opened the door and nearly ran into Drea.

“Oh girl, you’re so lucky!” she cheered. “He’s an absolute doll!”

“He is, isn’t he?” she heard herself say, not that she wanted to deny it. Not anymore.

“And he’s kept his eyes on you all night.”

“He has?”

“Oh God, hon, yes! I was watching him when I asked him if he wanted another drink, and when I brought it to him. His eyes were glued. I’d say he’s smitten.”

Biting her lip, Bronwyn returned to the booth and slid in beside Harry.

“Okay, I’m really back this time,” she said.

“Good,” Harry grinned, leaning forward so his forehead almost pressed against hers. “I was starting to get lonely.”

“I doubt that,” Bronwyn jeered. “I’m willing to bet anyone in this place would be happy to come sit with you.”

“Mmm,” he hummed. “I don’t want just anyone, though.”

Bronwyn chuckled. “Someone’s drunk.”

“No. Just feel good.”

“Oh. That’s good to know.”

Bronwyn lifted her hand then and ran the back of it against the stubble on Harry’s chin. He shut his eyes and let out another low hum, sending a vibration through her fingers. She was just about to allow her lips to brush his when she heard her name come from the stage.

“That’s her over there!” Austin shouted into the microphone. “With our new buddy, Harry. She’s fucking awesome, you guys. We probably wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for her. So raise your glasses, your bottles, whatever you got...raise ‘em up high for Bronwyn! This song’s for you, babe!”

“Shut up!” Bronwyn exclaimed, immediately slapping her hand over her mouth as the band kicked into the rock song.

She felt Harry’s hand take hers then, threading their fingers together. She looked up at him, his face aglow with pride. Her eyes began to well up, but she quickly wiped them with a cocktail napkin before pulling out her camera.

“Guess I should take a few more shots and call it a night.”

Rising from the booth, Bronwyn made her way through the crowd, taking a few photos up front, next to the stage, and then scanning the perimeter. Austin smiled, giving her another thumbs up, which she took a shot of before lowering her camera and blowing him a kiss. Then returning to her date, she slid in next to him, leaning her head on his shoulder with a sigh.

“That was sweet,” she commented.

“Looks like I’m not the only one you’ve made an impression on,” Harry murmured in her ear.

“Oh hush,” she spat, swatting at him with her hand. “He’s like nineteen.”

“So was I,” Harry laughed.

“Yes, but I was only twenty-two then.”

“Wait. That means you’re...twenty-nine? Oh my God, you old woman! What was I thinking?”

“Stop!” Bronwyn cackled, reaching over to tickle him but only managing to get herself pinned inside the booth.

His breath grazed over her lips and she smelled the tequila as her giggles slowed to a stop and she looked into his eyes. Though they were heavily hooded, she could still make out the twinkle.

“When do I get to take you home?” he slurred.

As though on cue, the band played their final drum beats, ending on a strong chord echoed by reverb. The crowd cheered and Austin thanked them before jumping off the stage.

“I guess right now,” Bronwyn breathed.

Slipping out of the booth, she made one last trip to the loo whilst Harry paid the tab. She wasted no time, meeting him at the bar.

“You guys have a great night,” nodded Nick.

“Goodnight Nikoli, darling!” called a very buzzed Bronwyn. “Night Drea!”

She wasn’t sure if Harry carried her out of the bar, or the other way around, but somehow they managed to get a cab. On the ride back to her flat, Bronwyn leant her head back and sighed.

“That was fun, Harry. Did you have fun?”

“Yes,” he laughed. “You’ve asked me that several times.”

“Sorry. Just wanna make sure.”

“I enjoy being with you,” he confessed, reaching for her hand. “And I’ve realised something about you tonight.”

“What’s that?” Bronwyn asked, turning her head to look at him.

“You’re in your element when you’re in public.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean...at your flat...you seemed almost timid and shy. Like you were afraid to tell me what you were thinking. Kind of vulnerable, I guess. Not that it’s a bad thing. It’s just...when you’re out in a place like this...just like the night we met...you’re so much more…”

“Flirty?”

“I was gonna say alive,” Harry chucked, “but yeah.”

“It’s a facade, Harry,” Bronwyn declared with a straight face.

“What? Why?”

“I don’t like being vulnerable. Especially around people I don’t know that well. So I pretend I’m not. The way I see it…” she paused, looking down at their joint hands, “if I come off as confident and flirty from the get go, no one is ever the wiser. That’s how they think I am all the time. So...everyone wins.”

“But you’re not like that all the time.”

Bronwyn considered his words, then raised a brow and shrugged. “We all have a dark side, Harry.”

“I didn’t say it was a dark side, I just-”

“Which me did you invite to your hotel room?”

Bronwyn stared at Harry for a moment, waiting for an answer, perhaps. But she knew what the answer was, so the point was moot. The silence grew between them as the taxi drove through the city and arrived at her flat.

“I’ll um...understand if you don’t wanna come up,” she muttered.

“What? Why wouldn’t I?” Harry glared at her incredulously.

“I mean...if you changed your mind.”

“I didn’t.”

“Okay.”

Bronwyn wanted to kick herself as she climbed out of the cab and up the stairs. She heard Harry’s footsteps following hers up the hardwood floor, stopping at her door. She wanted to take back what she’d said, yet she’d known it was the truth. The air was thick between them, and she wanted to clear it and start anew. As she put her key in the lock, however, Harry beat her to it. She froze in her spot as she felt him brush her hair off her shoulder and lower his head to kiss her neck, ever so softly. His breath in her ear and against her skin sent such shivers through her body, she almost dropped her keys. As she lifted her chin for him to get a better aim, she felt his chest press against her back until he turned her around to face him. Trapped between his body and the still locked door, she looked into his eyes. They seemed to plead with her, silently before he tilted his head and caressed her lips.

“Harry…” she gasped, her eyes still closed.

“It might’ve been the other you that nineteen-year-old me invited to his hotel room,” she heard him say, making her eyes flutter open to reveal his beautiful, sincere face. “But it’s this Bronwyn...the one who’s stood before me now...that I’m asking to sleep with me tonight.”

**dramatic music**

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[spacemonkeysalsa]

Appetites

(Angst and fluff and smut)

It's been five years since the Vampire Ascendant Astarion helped save Baldur's Gate. He has everything he ever wanted, and he's miserable.

Isolde is nobody, and has nothing. When given the option to become a vampire spawn, her response gives Astarion a moment of pause; “No. Thank you. I think I’ll just die.”

Read Chapter One on Ao3

Read Chapter Two on Ao3

Read Chapter Three on Ao3

Read Chapter Four on Ao3

Read Chapter Five on Ao3

Read Chapter Six on Ao3

Read Chapter Seven on Ao3

Read Chapter Eight on Ao3

Read Chapter Nine on Ao3

or read Chapter Nine below the cut

The little red haired half-elf behind the counter didn’t look up when Astarion entered, but waited to get to the bottom of the page of the leaflet she was reading. Her eyes widened, then quickly narrowed. She either knew who he was, or felt that she should know him. It was hard to tell with Sharran acolytes, because Astarion couldn't be bothered to remember most of them, and they couldn’t reliably remember anything. This might’ve been one who Shadowheart discovered in his palace, he hadn’t really kept track.

“How can I serve you?” she didn’t sound in the mood for acts of service, but he took her words at face value and decided to get straight to his demands.

“A man named Barnes should have come here last night asking for an incredibly reasonable favor. He seems to have gone missing. Do you know anything about this or have you already sold that memory for… whatever equates to the faint withholding of praise that you all so long for?”

The acolyte’s red hue complimented her hair, her eyes pinned to him even as he sensed the straining desire to check their surroundings and make sure they wouldn’t be overheard. There was no one else in the front-of-house, Astarion had already checked.

“I wasn’t working last night,” said the acolyte in a tone that was so gratingly familiar Astarion almost laughed. She was molding them all in her image, it seemed.

“How can you really be sure?” he teased with a sharp grin. Gaslighting Sharrans was almost too easy to be fun.

“But, I know the man you’re talking about,” she continued. “He didn’t know the passwords and wouldn’t leave until we kicked him out.”

He didn’t need detect thoughts to tell she was lying, but he did it anyway, not only wanting to confirm that he was correct, but hoping to get some scrap of the truth from her.

“I told those idiots not to toy with anything that belongs to the vampire lord.” And he saw a flash of Barnes through her eyes. Some hours ago, frightened. Restrained. She gasped and he knew she’d caught him reading her thoughts, but it hardly mattered, what was she going to do about it?

“I’d be very interested in speaking to the idiots in question.” Astarion said in his silkiest voice.

She looked quite pale and he discerned what warred within her. Certainly, she wasn’t allowed to just let him go back to the real inner sanctum of the enclave. He knew the way. He’d been there before, but that probably wouldn’t be taken into account when the girl was punished later for failing her post. Whatever they’d done with Barnes, she’d been against it.

None of this was her fault, it seemed.

But, circumstances as they were, it would have to be her burden.

“I’m actually filled with so much blood I don’t think I could stomach another swallow, but I will use my fangs if necessary. Why don’t you just wait here and work on whatever excuses you’ll have to give to that lovely Mother Superior of yours? Draft a plea. Start with ‘he was going to kill me’ that’s a classic.”

For a moment, he thought his words had been sufficient to cow the acolyte. He made it all the way to the door that led back into the enclave antechamber before he heard her cry and felt the white heat of radiant burn, a distant memory of what sunlight used to do to him. He flinched and groaned through bared teeth, but she’d barely singed him. “Why, you little—” he rounded in the direction where the attack had come from, intent on taking a hold of her by the throat, but she wasn’t in his reach. She wasn’t anywhere.

Her goal hadn’t been to harm him. She knew she couldn't do that. She’d just successfully distracted him. So she could…? He scanned the room and heard a clatter as something scrambled frantically through the hidden passageway. Run away. Her plan was to run ahead of him and warn her fellow Sharran’s of his arrival. It was probably the only thing she could do, and he should have seen it coming.

Briefly, he considered how upset Shadowheart would be with him if he actually killed a good number of her followers. Then, he just got on with it. Sliding into his wolf form, he took the stairs at a vault and followed the sound of warning shouts into a nearby chamber. He didn’t remember the area perfectly from his brief, violent, visit to the enclave, but felt fairly certain there had been some tortuous apparatus and tools at hand.

Sure enough, his eyes fell immediately on Barnes, stripped and strapped down. He was pale, from fear or bloodloss or both, but didn’t have any apparent injuries apart from one hand being so smeared with red that it was hard to make out the state of his fingers. There were four Sharrans in the room, the little redheaded acolyte who he’d chased down the stairs, another young woman in a stained apron, and two male humans who could’ve been brothers. The redhead had just managed to warn them in time that they were upright, facing him and armed.

In spite of a warning growl, the shorter man lunged for him, but barely managed to get in a knick at his furry belly as Astarion pounced, had him by the throat in his jaws, and whipped him around to land in a heap. Astarion tasted blood, but didn’t think he had actually torn his neck all the way open. 

Keeping the shorter human in the corner of his eye, Astarion took his true form back, but the acolyte wasn’t moving and the other three had all converged on him at once. He grabbed the girl in the bloody apron by her waist and ran up the wall, letting her fall from his grip as he reached the ceiling. She screamed before she hit the ground with a thud.

The remaining two acolytes who weren’t prone were slower, more cautious. Vaguely, he became aware of shouting from outside the doors. More were coming. That was fine. It seemed he was still restless from the night before. He’d cleanse the whole enclave again if he had to.

Then the door burst open and Shadowheart marched inside. He almost lost his concentration but managed to keep his mental grip on the ceiling. She didn’t see him right away, her eyes first fell on Barnes, then her cowering acolytes, then her gaze sliced upwards to find Astarion perched on the ceiling. “Oh, Gods,” she sighed, crossing her arms.

She looked well. She usually looked good when she came to one of his little parties, but it was the kind of occasion where she would often look polished, like she was covering something. In her own element, dressed simply in a practical set of loose black robes, she looked in control and confident. The Mother Superior, no need to hide, but free to be herself in this one place.

“Lovely to see you, dear.”

“Why are you here?” Shadowheart demanded flatly.

“Why have you kidnapped my majordomo?” Astarion shot back.

Shadowheart raised one finger to gesture at Barnes. “I don’t know him. What’s he doing here?” she directed the question to the acolyte who was lying prone on the ground with one hand clamped over his oozing neck rather than either of the two who were still on their feet, or the girl who was clutching her leg in a way that suggested she’d probably broken something when she took a tumble from the ceiling.

The girl who had let Astarion in pointedly remained still and silent, apparently confident that none of this would be her responsibility, though the other acolyte who was still upright was squirming, clearly fighting the urge to explain himself, or to wait for Shadowheart to address him directly.

“He showed up last night,” the acolyte with the injured throat was starting to get to his knees, he dared to pull his hand away and when there was no gush of blood, seemed to relax. “He was asking questions. I thought—”

“—Astarion, come down. We can use our words.”

“Well, I know I can, but you Sharrans are a different matter.” But Astarion did as she directed, striding down the wall as easily as he’d scaled it. “Not exactly known for frank communication, are you?” He dusted himself off, checking his stomach to see where one of the acolyte’s blades had drawn a little tear in the fabric of his waistcoat. Without further instruction or permission, he needed neither, Astarion walked up to Barnes and undid his restraints.

The majordomo suppressed a sob as he sat up, trembling.

“You’re all right,” Astarion muttered, getting a closer look at Barnes’ bloodied hand. Fingernails all gone. “Those grow back. Without potions and such it takes about six highly unpleasant months, but I know a decent alchemist.” 

Barnes wasn’t perfectly steady on his feet, and after presumably a full day being strapped down, it was no wonder. He stooped down and gathered a bundle of fabric on the ground. They appeared to be the trousers that had been torn off of him. He started to yank them back on and Astarion permitted him to lean against his side, and kept one hand gripping his shoulder in case he started to tip over.

“What did you need?” Shadowheart tossed her long plait of hair over one shoulder and wouldn’t look directly at them.

“Nothing, any longer,” Astarion sighed heavily. “I thought you might want to make good on one of the dozen favors you owe me, but I’ve no longer any need for a cleric’s ministrations.”

“I think the accounting of favors on one side or the other is debatable,” Shadowheart shooed the acolytes out of the room. They weren’t quick about leaving, and the two injured ones didn’t have nearly the degree of help that they required. “You sent someone to a Sharran enclave to fetch a healer?” Shadowheart remarked with a sniff. “Odd choice.”

“You might’ve considered that my options are a little limited.”

“There’s no end of hypocritical followers of one god or another. Not in Baldur’s Gate.” Shadowheart had a point here, but he wasn’t about to let her have credit for it. “Why did you need a healer?”

“Why else? Injured mortal, nonresponsive.”

“So, you’ve developed a habit of bringing your victims to the edge of death and then you want to restore them back so you can keep playing with them? Respectfully, that is a waste of—”

“—assumptions, assumptions,” Astarion rolled his eyes at her. “The girl’s state wasn’t my doing, if you must know.” Barnes was leaning more of his weight on him with every passing moment. Astarion couldn’t blame him for being eager to leave. “Well, it’s been lovely chatting. Lovely meeting some of your charges, as well. Maybe let them offer up today’s memories so that they can absolutely not learn any kind of lesson, and we can do it all again some time? Won’t that be fun.”

Astarion started to leave, half carrying Barnes, who after a few tentative steps seemed even more wobbly.

“Did she die?” Shadowheart shot after him.

“What?”

“Is that why you don’t need a cleric any longer? Did the mortal in question die?”

“I think I’ll keep the truth of that to myself. You can respect a little secret, can’t you?”

Astarion didn’t slow down until they hit the street and he thought Barnes might collapse. He didn’t actually want to have to carry the man in his arms back to his estate, and Barnes himself seemed like the sort who wouldn’t appreciate it either. Better to just let him take it at his own pace. He was unsightly. Perhaps they ought to stop at Figaros on the way? No. Better to just get home.

“A Sharran enclave in the middle of Baldur’s Gate? Gods below.” Barnes was shaking, and being under the sun again he seemed a little more aware of just how exposed he was. He searched the area around them, but thought there were signs of life in the song of the birds and the distant shouts and laughter in the city, no one was really close enough to pay any attention to them. “I never would have guessed at that kind of danger lurking just underground.”

“They’re not so formidable,” Astarion shrugged. “Every strategy they have boils down to making everyone else weak rather than making themselves strong. Outnumber. Go unseen. Manipulate. They are so focused on the disadvantages of all perceived enemies that they get quite bad at identifying them in the first place, and forget their own significant weaknesses. If you really want to be alarmed by the underground cults of the city, I’ll have you know that there’s still a perfectly serviceable temple to the god of murder just below our feet.”

“Are you going to send me to run an errand there next?!”

Astarion laughed, he wasn’t sure if Barnes meant to make a joke, but he hoped so. That would probably be good for him right now. “Gods, what a mess. How about a raise then?”

“Oh, at the very least,” snapped Barnes. Probably not quite ready to joke yet then. He did seem like his legs had recovered from the restraints though. He was still shaking, but he seemed able to walk on his own, and even seemed eager to do so.

“Right. Let’s go,” Astarion picked up the pace as Barnes seemed more able to keep up.

“Did she die?” Barnes waited a moment to ask, but there was something about the way he asked the question that made Astarion think he’d been holding the question back a moment.

“No. She’s fine. Probably about the same state as you are now. Do you want a cleric?”

“No. Never again.”

“Exactly.”

[rockinlibrarian]

Hey library pal, here you go for the ask game!

🍓🍎🍏🍇

Thank you! Once again, the fruit ask game is here, so ask me fruit!

🍓 What’s a fic you’ve written you feel is underrated?

*sigh* I'm going to say "The Magic Man of Oz" again. I feel like people might get sick of me saying that.

Well, I'll pick a runner up, and actually looking at my stats page, "MMoO" has SEVEN kudos, and it's for a kind of niche fandom, but my Wrinkle In Time/MCU crossover, "Tesseract," has only SIX kudos, and it really does deserve more. Though, granted, I haven't updated it since December of 2021 and I'm the only one who's seen some of the great stuff coming (eventually!) in later chapters. But the first chapter's pretty good, too!

🍎 Is there anything you straight-up won’t write?

Ugh, smut. It's painful. It's painful sometimes just writing about offscreen smut, though I will. But to put it into bold-faced WORDS just makes it all sound awful. I can't do it.

🍏 Is there something you overuse, whether it’s a certain phrase, trope, or piece of punctuation?

The em-dash. And run-on sentences. And the word "actually."

🍇 Is there a particular scene/episode/book/etc that you want to just write a million fics about, over and over? Which one?

You know I don't think so. I think I write one stab at a concept and then I'm good. Maybe that's why I've written for so many different fandoms.

Maybe Fiktor admitting their feelings to each other. That's probably the only thing I HAVE written over and over. And it's not even canon!

[zak-osullifan]

Laws of magnetism

Zak O'Sullivan (F2) x Pepe Marti (F2)

University AU; Student Pepe; TA Zak; As per my experience in uni, the professor is irresponsibly absent and leaves his entire workload on poor Zak; Pepe of course does not mind this at all;

Warnings/notes: Smut, unprotected sex Word count: 3 373

The 7:30 Physics lecture is shaping up to be a problem for Pepe. Not because he has trouble with the subject itself, per se - Pepe has always excelled at Physics before, and the university course is challenging, yes, but nothing he can’t manage. And while the early hour is not ideal, his issue is… different. Tall. Young. English.  Named Zak O’Sullivan, PhD candidate, TA to the professor Pepe honestly can’t even name as they didn’t even deign to show up to any of the lectures thus far.

Not even they want to be awake dealing with physics at the crack of dawn, thinks Pepe, as he takes his seat on the second row of the auditorium, close enough to have a good view of his TA - his handwriting is too small, really, no way I could see it from all the way in the back, he rationalizes. It is decidedly not so he can stare at said TA’s toned forearms when he loses his blazer and rolls the sleeves of his pristine button-up to his elbows sometime mid-lecture. Really. It’s all in the name of education. 

If Christian could hear this chain of thought, he would smack the Spaniard right over his head with his unnecessarily heavy, overpriced textbook. Luckily for Pepe, and even more luckily for his best friend, Christian is a Contemporary Literature major who doesn’t need to take Physics, much less be awake at this ungodly hour. So as Christian is likely still luxuriating in bed, he and seven other poor unfortunate souls take their spots in the dimly lit auditorium, powered by triple-shot espressos and, in Pepe’s case, a bravely concealed, wildly inappropriate crush. 

But if you ask him, well, he’s doing it all for the love of optics. Clearly, nothing more. (Optics strictly in the academic sense and decidedly in no conjunction with his stupidly handsome TA’s glasses. Thank you very much.)

As if summoned straight from Pepe’s less-than-appropriate dreams, Mr. O’Sullivan walks in, dark hair disheveled as if he’d just ran his fingers through it (as he was wont to do, Pepe had observed during their previous lectures), sticking out at odd angles here and there, a stark contrast to his generally put together appearance, all immaculately ironed shirts and spotless dark shoes. Oh, to be able to mess up those dark locks of his, or crinkle the tidy collar of that shirt as he pulled the young TA into a kiss-

Right, maybe it would be best not to entertain those thoughts right now when there are still lensmaker's equations to go through. Pepe flips his notebook open, clicks his pen on, and focuses bravely for a whole fifteen minutes before Mr. O’Sullivan turns to the white board, and the sight of the muscles tensing on his broad back sends Pepe straight back to those quite unhelpful daydreams.

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Optics, as it turns out, do not love Pepe back. Go figure. And he tried so hard too - granted, for approximately ten to twenty minutes each lecture - but the numbers added up if you considered he hadn’t missed a single lecture from the start of the semester, rain or shine. Trying to make up for his inattentiveness later in the relative solitude of the library unfortunately turned out to be a lost cause too, all the terms from his textbook resounding in his head in the distinct gentle tone of his TA, his voice leading Pepe astray even in his absence. Unfortunate, unfair and unhelpful. It comes as no surprise, then, that his assignment is returned to him marked in so much red ink, the words “See me after class” glaring at him from the top of the page, the young lecturer giving him a pointed look before moving on to hand out the rest of the assignments. Dejected and embarrassed with his poor work as he was, Pepe still files that look in his mental “Unfairly Hot TA material for PRIVATE USE ONLY” folder. He is, after all, only a man.

The conversation goes surprisingly well, all things considered. Pepe’s heartbeat only picks up a normal amount at the beginning, when he hangs back by the professor’s desk, waiting for his fellow students to file out of the auditorium, trying not to stare at the object of his daydreams too much, as to be as inconspicuous as possible, only to be startled by Mr. O’Sullivan’s soft voice.

“Mr. Marti, do you mind walking with me to my office? There is another lecture in this room right after ours, and there is quite a bit to discuss about your paper. That is, unless you also have other classes now?”

His office. Right. That’s where all the wildly inappropriate things always happen in the movies of the adult variety Pepe most certainly hasn’t been watching because of the man who currently had him fixed with his unfairly beautiful eyes. He only stutters a little as he replies, a little too fast.

“O-oh no I’m free, my only other class today is late in the afternoon.”

“Perfect. This way, then,” he says, flashing a smile that threatens to have Pepe weak at the knees. He miraculously manages not to trip over his legs during the short walk to the office. Small victories. 

He does have to think of Carl Friedrich Gauss and his stupid little hat when the door closes behind him, though, to cling on to some semblance of self control, as he watches his TA take a seat behind his overflowing desk.

“Please, take a seat. And if you could take out your assignment, that would be great.”

Right. Pepe had been standing, staring awestruck by the door. He kicks the back of the desks as he seats himself on one of the chairs pushed against it, fumbling through his bag for the paper.

“As you can probably tell, the assignment is… not quite what it should be. I can see you have a pretty good grasp of the basics of the subject, but the finer details aren’t quite there. Now, I understand this is one of the most challenging courses in the field, and it probably doesn’t help that professor Philippe isn’t available most of the time so you’re stuck with me…”

Pepe wouldn’t use the verb stuck, per se. More like blessed, maybe. Pepe is hoping the warmth he feels creep up on his cheeks isn’t quite so noticeable in the dim lighting of the room.

“...but having a good grasp of the material is fundamental for your courses in the following semesters…”

Right. His degree. The thing he needs to excel at if he is to have any chance of making it into F1 as an engineer. Might be good to focus right about now.

“So it would be best to put in the effort to iron out these minor hiccoughs right at the beginning. A tutor, maybe…” A thought that did cross Pepe’s mind, briefly, but he couldn’t really afford one at this moment. “... or, barring that, I have office hours every Monday and Wednesday. You could try one or the other, see which suits you best. Again, so you don’t fall too behind. Trust me, it will come back to haunt you later.”

Not much of a choice, really. Not for Pepe, at the very least. He thanks his TA, promises to try harder, and is out of the door in an instance before he has a chance to make a fool of himself.

He does come back, though, Wednesday at 9 sharp. He is quite keen on doing better (he is even more keen on spending one-on-one time with his handsome TA, but he won’t confess to that out loud).

And, in all fairness, in the privacy of the office, with Mr. O’- Zak, as he insists he calls him now -Zak’s undivided attention, he finds himself daydreaming less and focusing more, and Optics start loving him back. There’s less and less red ink on his assignments now. His midterm grade is spectacular, too. Yet Zak doesn’t bat an eye when he shows up for office hours, though Pepe clearly doesn’t need the extra time anymore, the topics of conversation more and more often shifting away from academia. Zak, he finds out, is a Chelsea fan, though staunch Barcelona fan Pepe can’t seem to hold that against him. Blue is his color. They both share a love of Formula 1, and Pepe absolutely holds Zak’s affection for Williams against him. The team hasn’t even won in his lifetime, probably. He should know better. Unfortunately this doesn’t make his crush any more manageable. It only means that now Pepe’s imagination supplies him with images of Zak cuddling with him on the couch as they watch the Champions League as well as the classic bent-over-the-desk scenarios from way before. Pepe is unsure as to which one is worse for his mental well being. 

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Between Physics office hours and his other courses, Pepe doesn’t notice the semester coming to an end. Which means that his time with Zak, too, is at a close. Which means he probably won’t be seeing his handsome TA as much, or possibly, ever again. That is not a comforting thought by any means, and it does make Pepe a little bolder when, after his last lecture, he drops by Zak’s office to brag about his final grade (an impressive 84%, thank you very much), to which Zak just shakes his head and laughs that breathy little laugh of his that Pepe came to love so much. 

“I know, Pepe. I graded the test.”

“Man, does professor Philippe do anything for this course?” As thankful Pepe is for the professor’s absence that led to him getting closer to his TA, he still doesn’t appreciate the fact that all the coursework falls on Zak’s young shoulders. He should be at a club, maybe. Smiling at Pepe from across the bar, or better yet, pushing him against the door of a bathroom stall- not now, unhelpful thoughts. “He did write the textbook and collects very handsome royalties from it, or so I’m told. I don’t mind though, it’s good practice. When I’m a professor I’m not planning on slacking quite this much.”

“But you would slack off a little bit. You’ve earned it with your early martyrdom, if anything.”

This earns a full body laugh from Zak, who nearly bends over in half, over his desk, clutching at his stomach.

“I dare say you could slack off even now. Well, maybe not now now, but say, later tonight? I think I owe you at least one drink for not letting Optics kick my ass earlier in the semester.”

“I think you owe me at least two, seeing that I didn’t allow Magnetism to do that, either.”

“Hey. I showed Magnetism who’s boss all on my own, thank you very much”

“Hmm. I’m not entirely convinced, but if you say so.”

Pepe should be offended, because he really did do well all on his own there, but there are other, more pressing matters at hand. Such as. Zak didn’t turn him down. So this might as well be happening. Pepe’s brain almost short circuits then and there.

“Anyway, as I was saying, there’s this place right around the corner from the Linguistics faculty that me and a couple of friends haunt occasionally…”

“Oh, MooMoo. I’m familiar.” 

Pepe was pretty sure he hadn’t seen Zak there in the many times he and Christian wound up at the bar for a drink. Or any of the other faculty members, for that matter. He certainly hopes the Brit hasn’t seen him practice his trademark move, the sprinkler, after a few too many drinks. He prays, even, though without clutching at his gold chain necklace. That would be a bit of an overkill.

“Great, so about nine tonight?”

“I’ll see you there, then, Mr. Magnetism.”

“Mock all you may. 84% on the final, mate. Nothing will dampen my mood tonight”

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Pepe had assumed he’d just gotten used to Zak’s charms during all the office hours he spent in his presence. He was, unfortunately, wholly unprepared for seeing Zak in his black button down and dark fitted jeans, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, top few buttons undone, revealing the barest hint of a lovely pale chest Pepe wanted to cover in hickeys. The moody lighting doesn’t help the excitement currently growing in his pants, and neither does the fact that they’re sitting practically shoulder to shoulder so they can hear each other over the music blasting through the loudspeakers.

Pepe concludes that he should have pre-gamed harder, build up some liquid courage. Alas, it is now too late for that. He downs his drink a little too quickly, some of the clear liquid spilling down the side of the glass, trickling over his chin. Zak’s eyes follow the movement. Was Pepe hallucinating, or did his gaze linger on his lips there, too?

“Careful there, mate. Don’t want you kicking the bucket before you build Williams that championship-winning car, yeah?” he laughs, clapping Pepe on his back. His hand definitely lingers on his shoulder, Pepe thinks. “Dream on, mate. Not even I can work that kind of miracle.” “Can’t blame a man for hoping.”

The mood eases a little, then, at least for Pepe. He certainly feels a lot bolder after a couple of drinks, when he rests a large hand on Zak’s thigh, dangerously high. His no longer TA lets it stay there for a moment before shifting his leg, leaning in to mutter in Pepe’s ear. His cologne clouds Pepe’s mind. “I… maybe not here. Faculty doesn’t usually drop by, as far as I’m aware, but still, better be careful.”

Not here. That’s not a decisive no. Pepe’s mind races, but he is determined; he downs his drink in one go, leaning towards Zak in turn. “Come to think of it, I might have some top secret plans for that Williams you might be interested in, back at my dorm. I might even be persuaded to hand them over, that is, if you…”

Is it the lighting in the club, or did Zak’s cheeks get a shade or two darker just now? At any rate, his eyes are… completely dark. A look Pepe knows all too well from all of his professor x student themed visual aids. 

“Anything for the team of my heart. Lead the way.”

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“I lied about the plans”

If the way he presses Pepe to the door the moment it closed behind them was any indication, Formula 1 is far away from Zak’s mind at the moment. He barely huffs out a laugh before crashing his lips to the Spaniard’s, cradling his head so it didn’t hit the wood too hard. From the urgency he kisses with, Pepe can tell he’s wanted this for a while too. Probably not as long as him, though. He finally allows himself to run his hands all over the back that threatened to have him fail a class, hands dipping under it to feel bare skin, feverishly hot. Zak pulls back momentarily, a string of saliva connecting their lips, nimble fingers working on the small buttons, revealing an endless expanse of smooth, pale skin Pepe’s itching to map with his tongue. He shakes himself off his reverie, pulling his own shirt over his head and tugging desperately at his belt.

He almost pulls Zak down on his bed when his eyes fall on his uncharacteristically empty desk, still illuminated by the lamp he must have forgotten to turn off in his haste before leaving for the bar, and Zak follows his line of sight. Their eyes meet just a moment later, and before he has time to process it, Pepe’s pressed into the desk, Zak’s thigh pushed between his legs. Eager hands find bare skin as Zak once again slips his tongue into Pepe’s mouth, making him sigh into the kiss. The edge of the desk digs uncomfortably into the back of his thighs but he cannot bring himself to care, not right now, not when Zak had him rutting against his thigh, his hands guiding Pepe’s movements.

He should stop, slow down, at the very least, draw this out as much as he can, but he just can’t seem to bring himself to do that. Zak, however, seems to have different plans, suddenly pulling back. “Mr. Marti, missing an assignment again. What am I going to do with you…”

God, his voice is impossibly deeper than it usually is, and it drives Pepe crazy. This man should not be allowed to exist, let alone play along with Pepe’s shameful fantasies, or he will come right there in his pants. How he manages not to, Pepe frankly doesn’t know. Sheer willpower will get you quite far, it seems.

“I’m so sorry, professor. I’ll do anything to make it up to you. Anything.” He let out in one breath, doing nothing to disguise the neediness in his voice. “Turn around. Hands on the desk, where I can see them,” Zak says, taking a step back. Pepe dutifully does as he’s told in a heartbeat, holding on at the edge of the desk, leaning into it, his gold chain dangling a centimeter from his chest. He has no time to dwell on it, though, not when Zak crowds against his back, one hand coming to cover Pepe’s, pale against tan skin, the other dipping into his underwear, wrapping around the base of his cock, drawing out a sigh from him. Pepe would be embarrassed, but if the length pressing against his backside is any indicator, Zak isn’t faring any better, either.

His movements are slow, deliberate, hips pressed against Pepe’s backside but not moving against him as he covers his shoulders and the side of his neck in hot, open-mouthed kisses. It’s all too much and not nearly enough. Until Zak splays a hand between his shoulder blades. Until he lets himself be pushed down, chest flat against the desk, the final barriers between himself and Zak discarded. Long fingers pressing into him, stretching him open, making him swear under his breath. The pressure gone, then replaced by something else, something bigger. Zak pushes his length into him slowly, his grip on Pepe’s hips almost bruising. The groan he lets out makes Pepe’s dick jerk.

He gives him time to adjust to the stretch before starting to fuck into him in earnest, the room filled with the obscene sounds of skin meeting skin. Zak drapes himself over Pepe’s body, a welcome heat and weight against his back.

“I… fuck… I wanted to do this the first time I had you in my office, you know,” he says, voice barely above a whisper, all hot and breathy against Pepe’s neck. It sends a shiver down his spine. “Would have let you. Wanted it so bad too.” “I know… fuck… could tell from the way you’d stare. You weren’t exactly subtle about it. Staring. God… you have no idea how hard you made it for me.”

The confession makes Pepe’s head spin. He pushes back, meeting Zak’s hips, desperate for more. “Zak, please… please touch me…”

And how can Zak deny him, really, when he begs so prettily?

“I’ve got you, baby,” he all but coos, large hand once again wrapping around his length, pumping him in time with his thrusts. “Let go for me, yeah, c’mon, cum for me.” It’s all entirely too much for Pepe. He keens, screws his eyes shut, and spills his load all over Zak’s hand, clenching around his hardness. Zak’s movements falter too, filling Pepe up, breathing hard against his back, fingers of his other hand digging painfully into Pepe’s hip, sure to leave bruises on his tan skin.

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Some time later, after a shower that gets a little too handsy, they find themselves slumped against each other on the tiny bed, Zak splayed over Pepe’s chest, all soft and pliant, ridiculously perfect lips pressing against his jaw as Pepe runs his long fingers through his hair. It’s just as soft as he always imagined it would be.

He certainly is very grateful for professor Philippe’s complete lack of interest in his teaching duties.

[gummy-reads]

If We Were Villains Review

If were were Villians by M.L. Rio

⭐️4.5/5⭐️

SPOILER-FREE

I’m an (ex)-theater kid and the premise of the book of solving a murder inside the theater production was extremely interesting. The book starts with seven Shakespearean actors at a classical college playing the same roles on and off the stage of Ceaser; the hero, villain, tyrant, temptress ingenue, and extra, solving the murder of one of their classmates. If you’re into the dark academia aesthetic or a fan of Shakespeare, or even just a fan or murder-mystery, this is a compelling book to pick up! It has time jumps from the past to the present, but not in a way to give whiplash, but instead give insight into the main character, Oliver. The book is very poetic and that's what dark academia is all about. The book is separated like a stageplay with “acts” and “scenes”, bringing flashbacks to when I was in theater, as well as plenty of quotes from Shakespeare's works. The way the book wove hints throughout the story had me checking back on pages and creating my theories along the way. The way the characters slowly become the role they are playing in the stage play only solidified the devotion the characters had to their crafts; and maybe even a take on how we become who we pretend to be.

A downside I had to If We Were Villians is that this book is advertised as a queer book, and as a queer reader I was excited, but only to find one cannon character; but it's about a group of theater kids so really everyone is queer to some degree, but for a book to be advertised as having a queer romance; it just had the main character, Oliver, question his sexual attraction to his roommate, James, at the end of the book. It felt like I was being edged for a queer romance between the two, but rather was fed a straight relationship, which I’m not complaining about. The final couple is cute but I was rooting for Oliver and James in the end. There are a lot of sexual themes, and as someone who is asexual, I was surprised that it wasn’t too sick. It was very vague, but I still wouldn’t recommend this book to someone sensitive to smut.

All-in-all, this book is a good introductory to the dark academia genre with references to Shakespeare and Edgar Allan Poe, two notable writers in the period of romanticism, which is the genre dark academia is loosely based on, really solidified the tone within the book: betrayal, love, and loss. With only 358 pages and 5 acts, it successfully illustrates the tones classical plays evoke and mirrors the play of Ceasar to an almost perfect point.

Some of my favorite quotes:

“You can justify anything if you do it poetically enough” “You're real to me. Sometimes I thought you were the only real thing.” “Per aspera ad astra…Through the thorns, to the stars.” “I don't know, it's like I look at you and suddenly the sonnets make sense.” “Do you blame Shakespeare for any of it?… I blame him for all of it.” “One sin, I know, another doth provoke; Murder’s as near to lust as flame to smoke.”

[contentloadingandstuff]

Hello! I was wondering, in the post where you listed your current asks you said you have a few other fic ideas for after you were done with requests (I think it was angst fluff and smut). I was wondering what ideas you had for those? Like what characters you plan on using or what the fics were gonna be about

Hello there! If I recall correctly, I mentioned two angst drafts. But yes, I have a plenty of ideas from all three genres. Let me open up my word doc, where I keep my ideas, and list a few.

Hurt/Comfort: Shinobu x M!Reader

Desc: Shinobu has a breakdown in the Chasm, her stoic resolve shattering under the realisation that she might as well die there. R is there to help.

A cute little idea I might get around to writing some day. Why Shinobu? Because best girl, that's why.

Angst: Breakup HCs for Beidou and Ei

It's about 95% done - it has been for over a month by now. Why didn't I release it then? Well, I'm not satisfied with how Beidou's part turned out. But then again, I'm not satisfied with most of my writing, yet you guys seem to enjoy it. When I finish requests (4 left as of now, 3 smut and 1 fluff) I'll take a look at it.

Angst: Issues of Genshin girls

Characters: Jean, Eula, Rosaria, Keqing, Ganyu, Ayaka, Miko, Shinobu, Sara

I have a draft of it on Tumblr, but I focused on doing requests lately. I'm of an opinion that 'the best food is made by a hungry chef' applies to writing as well. The best fluff comes out when you're happy, the best smut when you're thirsty, best angst when you're soul-crushingly sad. It's back to school time (I had two weeks of winter break) so writing angst is a lot easier. Haha... :(

Smut: Childe & M!Reader x Keqing

Desc: Childe gets some highly valuable blackmailing material in his hands, and wants to use it to have some fun with his best pal on an otherwise boring day. Keqing has to make a choice.

A nasty little fic with blackmailing and dubious consent included. The '&' is quite important here, as it would be straight smut, with no action between Childe and R. Will most likely remain unwritten.

Smut: Yae Miko x M!Reader x Gorou

Okay, this one might be a surprise. The fic would inculde awful stuff like mind break, brain washing and slavery (you can guess who's the victim). I know I said that I only write hetero smut, and I stand by that - I'm not certain if I like the idea enough to make an exception. But I have considered it.

Don't ask where I got these ideas. Past me clearly thought these were worth writing down, so here we are. He is quite weird, that guy.

Smut: Empress!Ei x Shogun!M!Reader x Sara

Desc: Ei and Reader reward Sara for her loyalty and uneding devotion.

Because Sara deserves it. This is the oldest smut idea I've written down.

Smut (Warhammer Fantasy): Karl Franz x Miao Ying

Desc: Karl goes on a trip to China to establish trade relations. When he gets to the palace, it turns out he left his wallet at home. How will he pay me now, thinks the dragon empress, already having a different form of payment in mind...

This idea came to be because of one diplomacy line. And the fact that, out of all the ordertide leaders, it is Franz that gets the damsels. It is confirmed by SEGA, Games Workshop, and Marek Suski. Don't check that, just trust me.

Whump: Abusive!Rosaria x M!Reader

Desc: Rosaria comes home drunk, and her kidnapped boytoy is in big trouble. Beating, cutting, and a pair of long nails are involved. I'll leave it up to your imagination where the nails go.

Very horrible idea, 'inspired' by the movie Grotesque. Don't watch it under any circumstances. It's very nasty.

Art: ModernAU!Shinobu smoking on the rooftops.

She is just such a vibe. Maybe, maybe in a year's time I'll do it. I still can't draw.

Okay, that's the first page of seven. Maybe some of these will see their own posts. But I don't know.