#when somehow his last school was like ohhhh sorry he needs to leave

[merlinsear]

When work is bad it makes my anxiety awful and I’m just sitting here spiraling about every mistake I made today. I was on a break two days ago how has this happened so quickly.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

Sorry to bombard ur inbox but that response gave me a thought 😭😭 cult leader!geto and sorcerer!reader both being in battle except at one point you get injured enough to completely black out and he finds you somehow and is like “oh no :( pookie injured” and then hes just like oh well i have to take them home!!! To heal them!!! (That isn’t him trying to justify literally kidnapping you he probably just actually wants to heal you) so you wake up in his cult confused as fuck because the last thing you remember is passing out from blood loss and he’s just sitting cross legged smiling at you with complete and utter adoration in his eyes like “:) I made u tea” and hes laid you down somewhere so comfortable, all your wounds are tended to, and he’s completely aware that you probably want to kill him but he’s like. Oh do u want soup. I can get you soup. And just leaves the room and pats your head SHJASHAHSH HE DOES NO WRONG!!! HES THE MOTHER EVER — stsg anon :ppp

NEVER APOLOGIZE FOR LEAVING UR LOVELY THOUGHTS IN MY INBOX this made me so SOFT stsg anon 🥺🥺 i know i keep saying this but u Get me. this is Him. the only mother ever.

no because this is the greatest thing i’ve heard in my life???? u NEED to write this fic stsg anon i am so emotional. POOKIE INJURED… :(((( i think the most twisted thing abt cult leader!geto is that he will fully act like nothing’s wrong. like you aren’t on opposite sides. he loves you and he doesn’t hide it!! he still just wants you to be safe & cared for!!! i feel like since he wasn’t able to tend to you after he left the school he probably overcompensates when he has you in his cult…. because he hasn’t been able to for so long and it’s been making him so sad 🥺🥺 silly little guy. sappy little loser. he’s just itching to give you that princess treatment because you’re hurt and you need him and internally he’s just kicking his feet and giggling like a schoolgirl <3333 he’s actually so babygirl it’s making me feel sick.

AAAAA AND HIM MAKING U TEA AND SOUP 😭😭😭😭😔😔😔 stsg anon do u want me to die. HE’S SOOO SWEET HE’S SO GIDDY TO HAVE YOU THERE??? gazing at you fondly while you sleep…. sitting CROSSLEGED the first thing that popped into my brain was this:

he’s so……… notice how there’s so much space in his lap??? that’s for us specifically stsg anon. PHDJD BUT GENUINELYYY that’s such a perfect scenario i’m so obsessed HE’S SO FUNNY???? he took you to his CULT and he’s just like oh are you comfortable here?? is it chilly??? i can go get you a blanket ^_^ he’s soooo boyfriend? so Wife?? i am always thinking abt how happy and silly he was in jjk 0 when he was abt to meet his family… ”i’m sooo happy it’s been so long since we were all together <333 let’s take a selfie for the memories <3333” he’s such a mom i love him so much 😭😭

ohhhh this was such a treat im eating it happily :33 i am sending u sm love stsg anon …. sending it telepathically through the sugu hivemind…… hope u have such a lovely day today!! or night!!!! pls never ever hesitate to send more sugu thoughts they give me sm joy to read <333

[sarah-dipitous]

Hellsite Nostalgia Tour 2023 Day 230

The Prisoner

“The Prisoner”

Plot Description: a devastated Dean plots revenge on the Styne family while Sam reawakens Crowley’s dark side

Would I Survive the First Five Minutes??: I’d be fine because I wouldn’t be bullying the youngest of a very powerful family

They had me almost feeling sorry for this young Styne dude. He’s probably high school or MAYBE first year of undergrad, but the way he completely dressed down that bully….he doesn’t need me to defend him

If you thought Dean was never going to forgive himself for Kevin, he’s never gonna forgive himself OR Sam for Charlie’s death

Sam’s also not going to forgive himself, but he’s also still focused on saving Dean

This poor kid. He wants NOTHING to do with his family’s legacy. Oh the poor baby

Sam just got Charlie’s last email…and they can read the Book of the Damned. So he’s gonna go back on his word to shut down this operation to save Dean

Honestly, good on Rowena for holding to not reading the book til Sam kills Crowley

Do the Stynes have every cop looking out for a black 67 impala?? Like….why are they harassing Dean?

Now, is Crowley going to leave Dean hanging? On one hand, they have a particular understanding. On the other, he’s gotten chewed out for being the Winchesters’ bitch, so…idk

Sam called…of course he did. That’s what was promised in the description

Dean taking out so many of the Styne guys (and it seems to be ONLY guys) before getting ambushed was…..😏

Ohhhh Crowley….I don’t get like this for you often but when you start exhibiting your true evil side and somehow dig out the demon trap bullet on your own?? *tucks hair behind ear*

Good job, Sam. It’s just one mistake after another for you lately, isn’t it? Crowley’s worse than ever (which I personally love)

This will not end well for the Stynes. When the Mark wants you alive, it’s gonna keep you alive. He killed everyone in that room like it was nothing

So will Dean arrive in time to save the bunker? Or is Sam close enough? Good. I’m so glad Dean showed up before they could light up the bunker. On the same level as getting revenge for Charlie, I didn’t want Dean’s only photo of Mary to get burned

Dean, please don’t shoot the kid. The other guy deserved it for what he did to Charlie but this kid doesn’t want the life his family—…he shot the kid.

I loved watching Cas stand up to Dean. To tell him he won’t just sit idly by as the Mark consumes him because, even if he can fight it for centuries, Cas would still be around when he finally turned…and I loved it up until Dean started beating up Castiel. And now I’ve never been so angry at Dean. How DARE you, Dean Winchester. Don’t you do it. Don’t you fucking do it

He didn’t kill Cas, but that was scary as hell

[whichstoodonrockyshores]

Chapter Fifty-Five

(boom)

It was another long year of headaches caused by Miss Brown. Cheyenne usually came home upset, and would sometimes even be crying. But eventually, everything turned out okay. It usually did, in the end. He finally didn’t have to drive his daughter to school every day, and could just relax for a few months. He considered going out but...it probably wouldn’t go well. He was scared of people, if he was being completely honest. He didn’t want a repeat of what happened with Lance.

After an internal fight, he decided he’d try, once. If it didn’t go well, he wouldn’t try again. He sighed, as he dropped Chey off with Montana, so she could spend the weekend there. He drove back down, and it was already late. So he just went home, and could go the next evening. He laid down on his bed, trapped in his thoughts again. He couldn’t stop thinking about what would happen if he died..for some reason. He knew it wouldn’t matter, as it would be very difficult for him to die. But what if...they didn’t care? What if no one missed him? He couldn’t get the hypotheticals off his mind.. so he turned over and cried. But he eventually fell asleep, luckily.

He woke up the next morning, exhausted. He just wished he could go without those sleepy thoughts, because they sucked every time. They were a bit worrisome, but Wy didn’t have time to think about them anymore. He got up and took a long shower, excited for the evening. He braided his hair, and put on some nice clothes. He made them himself, in fact. He got in his truck, and went on his way. He drove through the day, so he arrived at Denver early the next morning.

He ended up in a gay bar in the city, and he was let in after showing his ID. He sighed, sitting against the wall. He caught a glimpse or two of Colorado himself, but didn’t say anything, not wanting to embarrass himself or Colorado. He just sat there, sipping his non alcoholic drink, looking depressed. He didn’t know why, this place was full of energy, and more importantly, hot guys. But he didn’t have the balls to say anything to anyone, so he just..put his head down to ignore the music that was pounding on his skull.

“Hey, are you okay?” Someone asked. Wy perked his head up, and looked at the man. He felt like he’d seen him before, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. He had spiky black hair, and was wearing a white button up. And a skirt, surprisingly, but Wy didn’t question it. “I’m Ulises, by the way.” Oh. It was Utah, the ‘good Mormon boy.’ He was probably out with Colorado. Wyoming turned around, immediately making Ulises nearly drop his drink.

“Ohhhh, hi Wy….” He said, orientating himself again.

“Hi, Utah. What are you doin’ here?”

“Could be asking you that..” he said, leaning against the bar and ordering another drink for himself.

“I thought Mormons don’t drink-“ Wy started.

“We don’t.” Ulises said, cutting Wy off and taking a huge gulp of clearly alcoholic drink. He slammed it on the table when he finished after a few seconds. He got off the bar, fixed his skirt, and looked at Wy. “Why are you here?”

“I thought I’d give it one last chance but...I don’t think it’s for me anymore..” Wy explained, looking at Ulises, whose face was flushing as he got tipsy. He looked happier, all of a sudden.

“Welll, I’m here.. because boys are cutteee and I wanted to wear this skirt..” he said, smiling and dancing around the room. He grabbed Wy’s hand and led him to the dance floor, where he threw him into the action.

“Live a little, bro! Cisco said that to me once, ha!”

Wyoming quickly lost sight of Ulises and Cisco, so he just stood there awkwardly, trying to move his body so he didn’t look too strange. He still got some stares, though, and he didn’t like that. He tried to do the same dance the others were doing, but he ended up falling on his ass and getting a few giggles. He was embarrassed, so he just got up and ran to the bathroom. He sat in a stall, humiliated, and trying to keep himself from getting too upset.

“Uh, YES?!” he called, maybe a little too loud.

“Wy, are you okay?” The other voice asked. It didn’t sound like Ulises, so it was probably Cisco. He sighed, and got out of the stall, and sure enough, it was him. “Sorry about Ulises, he gets a little excited when he drinks..”

“I can see that. But um, how about we bring you home? I’d hate to see you upset when you leave…” he explained, as Wy just fell into his arms. Luckily, Cisco was tough and muscular, so he easily caught him.

“Yeah, but uh..I live far away..”

“I assumed that so..I guess you can stay at my place..”

Wy sniffed, and nodded, as Cisco handed him his keys. He just walked out of the bar, found Cisco’s car by unlocking it, and waited for Ulises and Cisco. He sighed, knowing that he’d probably ruined both of their nights. He leaned against the window of the car, trying to keep himself from crying. Eventually, the two of them came out and joined him. Ulises was still excited, and was hopping up and down in the passenger seat.

“Sorry Wy, we have to pick up Cyntia from the bar up the street. Then we can all go to my place.”

“Cyntia?” Wy asked, never hearing anyone called that before. He didn’t want to make assumptions of who it could be, either.

“California, our big sister. She’s at the lesbian bar up the street.” Cisco explained, started the short drive there. It only took a few minutes, and suddenly, they were at the bar in question. Cisco got out, and seemingly got in a short argument with the guard, before waiting for a few more minutes, and suddenly Cisco amerged with a very drunk looking Cyntia. She had a lady attached to her arm, until Cisco kindly asked her to leave. They both got in the car after that, and a Cyntia sat right next to Wy, before passing out immediately. In fact, he just realized Ulises was passed out as well. He just sighed, still against the window.

“Wy, I’m sorry you didn’t have a good time. We could all go out together, some other time…?” Cisco offered. Wyoming considered it, but decided it would be fun, but he didn’t have a whole bunch of time.

“Sorry, not anytime soon, Cisco..my daughter needs me.”

“OH! You’re daughter? I’m an Uncle, and I didn’t know?”

“Yeah, sorry Cisco I didn’t tell most people she’s-“

“I’M AN UNCLE!” Cisco yelled, obviously excited, waking Cyntia and Ulises up, who both smiled, despite not knowing the context of the conversation.

“I’M AN UNCLE TOO!” Ulises yelled, with the same excitement Cisco did.

“I’M AN AUNT!” Cyntia yelled, even more excited then her brother’s, somehow. Wy just laughed, enjoying this, until they all arrived at Cisco’s apartment. Why helped Ulises up the stairs, and Cisco helped Cyntia. They both passed out when they reached their final destination: Cisco’s very large couch. He still looked excited about being an Uncle.

“So, how olds my niece?”

“Uh, 5. Little lady just finished kindergarten.”

“Oh! She must be adorable, what’s her name?” Cisco asked, already changing out of his clothes into something more comfortable, so he could sleep.

“Cheyenne, and she is.” Wy explained, digging through his wallet and finding a picture, which he showed Cisco.

“Awww….” he said, smiling and giving the picture back. “What a cute kid! Good on you, man. Guest rooms over there, have a good sleep, bro.” He said, heading into what seemed to be his own bedroom. Wy went into the guest bedroom, and laid down, wrapping himself in blankets. He didn’t have any..thoughts that night, because he just passed out. He knew the next day would be fun, though..

[khoicesbyk]

My First Two Loves.

First Time Love. Part 1.

A/N: I’ve read a multitude of books. And this one is becoming one that I thoroughly enjoy. So; Talley Ho! *in my Sherlock Holmes voice*

Rated: Mature. Contains sexual content, brief mention of violence and strong language. You know? The basic usual from me. 😁 | Bolded and/or italicized words are conversations and thoughts of the characters. | Characters: Isaiah Harris (LI) and Kailah Price (MC) | All Characters: names (except MC) are property of Pixelberry. | All Characters are 18+ | A/N 2: This story follows the plots of Ch. 17 and 18. There are mentions of underage drinking in both this two part story and the original MTFL. This is also a story about sexual discovery. Reader discretion is STRONGLY advised. | A/N 3: Song and Story Inspiration: Chaka Demus And Pliers-Murder She Wrote | Childish Gambino-Redbone | Lita-Ciao Ciao | PJ Morton feat. JOJO-Say So | Rihanna feat Drake-Work | Daniel Caesar feat Brandy-Love Again | Current Word Count: 2,193 words.

Weekly Challenge Prompt: “I honestly don’t know.” This one was not only easy but hella fun! 😁

It was her first time ever experiencing something so life changing.

It was her first time experiencing him.

Let’s go back, shall we?

Kailah was excited for tonight. She was going to her bestie Brandi’s big bash. Brandi’s parents were gone for the weekend, she had the house to herself so what else does an 18yrold do? She throws a giant party for all of her friends and fellow seniors! Because; what 18yrold wouldn’t do that?

After she got herself all dolled up, and after she texted Isaiah and Jaylen a photo of her outfit; Kailah was down the steps; and headed for the door. Until she ran into her dad and had the biggest argument of her life with him. Not because of her grades or anything like that. No; it was because he felt she was abandoning her commitments in favor of; spending too much time with Isaiah.

And well; she felt like he was being a hypocrite and told him so. It wasn’t until she brought up her deceased mom that it all went left; and she was effectively grounded.

Leave it to her sister MacKenzie to come up with the plan of a lifetime. She was gonna sneak out and go to the party; despite her dad grounding her. Besides; she promised Isaiah she’d be there so she had to go. She didn’t want him to be there by himself.

When she got to the party; it was already popping and Brandi was already drunk. Kailah loved her best friend more than anything; but even she thought Brandi had over done it on the booze.

“Giiiiiiiiirrrrrrrrrrrrrrllllllllllll you made it! And damn you look sexy, baby! Somebody’s trying to get fucked tonight!”, Brandi said as she wobbled up to her best friend. “Babe! How much have you had to drink?”, Kailah asks her as she tries to peel her very drunken friend off of her.

“I honestly don’t know! I started drinking before everybody got here so…”, Brandi replied with a shrug; while trying to steady herself. “Okay! Let’s get you some water babe. You need it!”, Kailah says to her as she tries to steer her best friend to the kitchen.

That’s when Jaylen called out to them, “there you two are! And Brandi you don’t look so good.” “Kai was gonna get me some water! Isn’t she like the sweetest thing ever?!”, she drunkenly asked Jaylen before flinging herself across him. “Yeeeeeeah…I think I’ll get you that water. Come on.”, he tells her as he drags her to the kitchen. “Best! Boyfriend! Ever!!”, she drunkenly squeals as she follows him.

She hated to see them together so; she decided to find Isaiah. When she scanned the room she saw people; drinking, laughing, dancing and generally having a good time. But; she didn’t see Isaiah. Knowing Brandi’s house like the back of her hand; Kailah decided to check the backyard before she checked the basement. When she stepped onto the patio; she saw that the backyard was in shambles. But again; she didn’t see him.

Until he came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. “You look like you lost something. Maybe I can help you find it.”, he whispered in her ear. She turned her head and smiled up at him. “Who told you to come out the house looking like a five course meal?”, he asked her; clearly letting his eyes roam over her body.

“Stop it! Are you enjoying the party?”, she asks him. “I mean if you wanna call high school cliches, cliques, loud music and spiked Jamba Juice a party then yeah; I’m having a blast!”, he says sarcastically with a shrug. She just rolled her eyes and giggled.

“But now that you’re here; I might just enjoy myself after all.”, he told her with wolfish grin.

“How’d you do on your test yesterday?”, she asks him. He raised his arms in victory and said, “nailed it!”

“Told you! Now all we gotta do is keep it up; and you’ll be pulling girls at Princeton in no time.”, she told him as she beamed with pride at him. He just shook his head at her.

“So, I was thinking about ditching this snooze fest.”, he told her. “Already?! Awwww!”, she pouted. It made him want to suck on her bottom lip. “I mean you could always come with me, ya know?”, he told her. “Ohhhh really? And where would we go; should we decide to leave?”, she asked him with eyebrow raised.

“We’d go back to my place. My mom doesn’t really have any restrictions on me having company over, plus my sister is at my cousins for a weekend sleepover thing and my brother is out with his friends for God knows how long; doing only God knows or who for that matter. So, we’d pretty much have the whole house to ourselves.”, he told her as he wrapped his arms around her again; and pulled her close so that she was flush with his chest.

“Tempting. And what would we do, alone at your place?”, she asked him in a not so innocent voice. “Whatever you want to do babe.”, he whispered in her ear. His voice was low and husky; and in sent a winding chill down her spine. Before she could answer; Jaylen popped around the corner; causing her to take a step back from Isaiah.

“Well! Well! Looks like juvie actually showed up, tonight! He’s not bothering you; is he?”, he asks her. While Isaiah rolled his eyes; she replied, “no Jay he’s not. We were just talking.”

“Are you sure? Because; you know that I can always have him thrown out of the party, right?”, he told her.

“Heyyyyy golden boy! Are you deaf? She just said that she’s fine!”, Isaiah snapped back at him; clearly agitated at this point.

“Who said I was talking to you, juvie?”, he told him. “Man! Don’t make me embarrass you in front of her!”, he replied to Jaylen. “Please do. Because; I’ve been dying for round 2 with you!”, he told him as he got up in Isaiah’s face. “I bet you have, golden boy! Especially with the way the last time went. You gotta regrow your balls somehow!”, he told him.

After remembering how the last time these two got into it turned out; Kailah stepped in between them.

“Stop it! Both of you! Jay I’m fine! I’ll be inside in a few. Go get the games started. We’ll be there shortly.”, she told him to get him to back down. Jaylen turned on his heel and went back inside.

That’s when she turned to Isaiah and said, “Isaiah please calm down! It’s not worth it!” She watched as he clenched and unclenched his fists.

But; soon he calmed down after he saw the look of concern on her face. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t let him get under my skin; but somehow he always does.”, he told her.

“It’s okay Isaiah. I know he can be aggravating at times. Trust me. Now let’s go play a couple games. And we can discuss leaving later.”, she told him as she led him back inside.

After a few rounds of truth or dare; that included Isaiah taking body shots off of Kailah and using her as a weight, Jaylen stripping down to his underwear and doing laps up and down the street and more than a few nearly embarrassing truths.

It was time for everyone’s favorite card game: Suck and Blow. The rules are simple: pass a card from person to person; by only using your mouth.

What started out innocent soon turned awkward between Kailah and Jaylen. When the card slipped from Jaylen’s lips before it reached hers. And; he inadvertently kissed her. “Oh geez! I’m so sorry, Kai! That wasn’t supposed to happen!”, he sheepishly told her. He had a look a completely embarrassed look on his face.

“It’s all good. ‘Twas an was accident. You good!”, she told him. In the very back of her mind; she wasn’t so sure that kiss was an accident or that he was sorry about it. Especially when she saw the irritated look on Isaiah’s face. But; it wasn’t her that he was irritated with. He knew that kiss wasn’t “accidental”. Or at least; he knew that it wasn’t an accidental kiss on Jaylen’s part.

After a few more crazy and hilarious rounds of Suck and Blow; the living room had dissolved into a full on dance floor. With bodies swaying to whatever random song played on Pandora; Kailah was hoping to dance with someone.

While Jaylen was dancing with a VERY drunk Brandi; Isaiah walked over and asked, “hey Kai…wanna dance?” She eagerly accepted his invitation.

Being that close to him, feeling his strong arms around her, dancing to the beat, inhaling the scent of his musky cologne. It all had changed the way she looked at him. The world just disappeared, when she was with him. It was there in that moment; where she realized how much she started to really deeply care about Isaiah.

That moment of internal bliss was interrupted by Lauren; when she swayed right into them both, spilling her drink on Kailah. “Seriously Lauren?! Look what you did!”, she snapped at her. “Whatever! Just go wash it out in the bathroom, you’ll be fine!”, Lauren snapped back.

Rather than punch Lauren in the face like she was dying to do; Kailah stormed off to guest bathroom to clean herself up. While she was in the bathroom cleaning herself up; she got a text from her dad.

Daddy-o: hey you two, they need me to work a double tonight. So I won’t be home until some time late tomorrow morning. Don’t wait up! Love you both. Goodnight.

Younger sister unit: Kk

Me: 👍🏾

That’s when there was a knock at the bathroom door.

“Hello in there! This is your friendly neighborhood chimney sweep calling!” With a giggle she replied, “you’re an idiot Isaiah! The door isn’t locked.” When he entered the bathroom behind her; she soon found herself alone with him. “Damn. Brandi’s parents must have some serious money. This is a nice ass guest bathroom!”, he said before asking her, “You okay? I came to check on you.”

“Yeah I’ll live. I just a got text from my dad. According to him, he’s working a double at the hospital; and won’t be home until some time tomorrow morning.”, she told him. He cocked an eyebrow at her with mischievous grin on his face and said, “so that means that you and I can go around town and cause mischief and mayhem!” She shook her head at him and said, “and what kind of mischief did you have in mind, Mr. Harris?”

“Well Ms. Price, the mischief I had in mind begins with us; getting the fuck outta here and going somewhere much quieter.”, he told her. “Is this your way of asking me to go with you; back to your place, Mr. Harris?”, she asked. “Not in so many words but; yeah.”, he replied as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Hmmmm…I’d love to!”, she said. His eyes lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Perfect! There’s just one thing.”, he said. “What? What is it?”, she asked. “I’ve just been thinking about that so called kiss you shared with golden boy.”, he told her.

She grimaced as she thought back to it. “I’m sorry Isaiah. I wasn’t trying to be a jerk to you.”, she said to him. “I ain’t mad at you, Kai. It just got me to thinking. That’s all.”, he said to her. “Thinking about what?”, she asked. “It got me to thinking; why does golden boy get to have all the fun?”, he said to her. “What do you mea—“, was all she said before his lips devoured hers.

His kiss was hot, hungry, powerful and definitely horny. When their kiss was finally broken; she was out of breath and he was apologetic. “I’m sorry…I shouldn’t have done that.”, he told her. “No, you shouldn’t have!”, she said before she pulled him into another hot kiss. He effortlessly picked her up and sat her on the sinks’ marble counter.

With her legs around his waist; he leaned her back towards the bathroom mirror. They couldn’t get enough of each other. He started to trail hot kisses down her jaw and the hollow between her neck and her ear. Doing so, not only made her whole body hot but; it made her shiver. He wanted to keep going but; he stopped to whisper in a low growl, “ohhh yeah. We are definitely getting the fuck outta here, now!” She simply smirked at him and said, “Well…lead the way.”

With that; he pulled her off the counter and out of the bathroom and house they went, no goodbyes to anyone, nothing. They just left. When they got outside, he tossed her his extra helmet, she climbed on the back of his bike and they were gone. They were on their way back to his place; for a very fun end to their evening.

Stay tuned for Part 2!

😘

K.

Tag list: @txemrn @choicesficwriterscreations @choicesweeklychallenge @lucy-268

[iammarylastar]

1. Alone amongst brothers.

"Cal! Hey mate where are you?" Snowballs clicked his fingers under his nose, startling him.

Bad idea. Never startle an ex cop ex Marine who hadn't slept for years.

Chris -his real name was Chris- came out of his reverie and offered a poor smile to his brothers. Obviously missing his goal to reassure his squad.

Who was he kidding?

He hadn't been here for years. For 3 years. 3 fucking years.

He hadn't been the same since he came out of prison. Since his brother, his real brother fled to Canada, to never return.

Since Oyster, his little brother killed that asshole in a bar.

Thinking about it, all this shit had started after their mother died.

Big, huge mess she had left behind.

He reluctantly came back to the world, that world without his mom nor his brother, that world where he's a useless piece of shit, forbidden to serve his country in any way.

Reverie couldn't have been more inappropriate. Living nightmare would have fit better.

"Next round on me." Jaeger announced with too much enthusiasm.

"Same?" He quirked an eyebrow at Cal, who just nodded, not bothering to say a word.

He didn't need another beer. Alcohol free. Taste free too. He'd been nursing the same bottle since he settled his ass in the bar, mind absently scratching the corner of the label with his nail.

He had been sentenced to 6 years and spent 3 at Pittsburgh Correctional Institution. He got a release, good behaviour. He'd been lucky, somehow, half of the prisoners were there because of him. Death had waited for him at every corner, but freedom hadn't tasted better.

A lot had happened in 3 years. Life had gone on whilst his had stopped behind the bars.

Snowball found his soulmate Carlo, Jaeger finally got Claire back, they married last year and were expecting their first child. Milk spawned two boys, fuck he'd been out for a long time.

Brotherhood meant leave no one behind. He had Oyster's back, he did what had to be done to save his brother from jail. Sentencing himself, ruining his own life.

He got nothing left. No wife, no family. Sure, his bros had always cared, hanging out, working out, having him in for all their kids birthdays, family barbecues, even last Christmas when Claire and Jaeger announced the good news.

They all exploded, hugging Claire and clapping Jaeger's shoulder, whooping and cheering like madmen.

He was genuinely happy for both of them and tried to ignore the stab in his guts.

For once he wanted and was in the mood to celebrate. Till his eyes landed on the blessed couple's wedding pic pinned on the wall, then spotted another showing his brothers in uniform, proudly posing with the groom.

Stab.

He wasn't there and it killed him.

Claire told him they got a seat settled in his honor and it hurt more deeply.

He had missed so many events, so many people.

Oyster.

He had spent most of his miserable life to raise his little brother -half brother but who cares?- kicked his ass every morning to have him secured at school, kicking his own ass to quit both grief and booze and pass his exams to assure them a future.

Look what future both fucked up.

If only he could have the slightest news of him, knowing his brother was fine and safe somewhere in Canada, a letter, a call, an emoji on whatever social media... but no. The cops were still looking for Oyster for Ben Daley's murder and as a cop -ex cop- he knew he and his mates have been under surveillance since day one.

Oyster had been MIA for 3 years with no chance of brightest days.

And he was left alone with nobody to care for and nobody to love.

His sentence had him kicked out from the police department, along with his staff sergeant status. No job. No rules to give rhythm to his days. No incomes but a few light works here and there in the neighborhood. The people he knew always put in a good word about him and hopefully people didn't ask for his criminal record before hiring him for fixing their roof, painting their fronts or uprooting a tree stump.

Yeah he had a lot to add to his resume: by-the-book cop, dauntless staff sergeant in the Marine corps, 2 rounds in Iraq, baby sitter and groundskeeper. Impressive.

"Man, look at this chick over there." Milk nudged him. "She's been eyeing you like she's willing to drop her panties for you."

Cal finally lifted his eyes and glanced at the girl in question. Thin, sexy, a blouse full of goodies, gaudy red lipstick, prying eyes.

Maybe he needed to get laid. He hadn't had sex since he came out of prison. His mates planned a party to celebrate his freedom and got him a working girl for the occasion but he wasn't in the mood.

He hadn't been interested in sex, not after what has happened in prison, not even a quick handjob while watching a porn. No. Scratch that. He's been forced into lame and painful wankings when his balls threatened to explode, but it was no fun at all. Far, far from it.

A slight nausea invaded his throat of the reminder and he forced the thought out.

Double sentence. If he hadn't suffered PTSD after what he did and witnessed in Iraq, then he got his trauma.

He might never use his cock again. Playground out of order. Broken.

"Nahhh... She looks cheap. Guys I don't need another blind date, you know. Your Tracy girl was crazy, she scared the shit out of me with her earlobe-licking... fetishism." Cal rubbed his earlob with a disgusting frown on his face, having all his skwad laughing out loud, wiggling all tongues out.

"Listen Cal. You need to get laid. You need a good fuck to come back to life. You're hot stuff still, you just need to pick up some gorgeous chick and have some fun! Before your dick just deceases from dehydration." Jaeger joked, hilarity ensued.

He looked around the crowded bar, tired. Tired to pretend he could be interested in that kind of date.

He didn't need a one night stand. He didn't need some cunt to fuck. He needed someone to love. And be loved in return.

Like the ol'time when he lived with his mom. Or with Oyster. He needed someone who cared.

"Thank you guys but I'm tired. I better go home and get some sleep. Need to wake up early and..."

His lame excuses got cut off by an angry Milk.

"Oh yeah, because you do have so much to do tomorrow, don't you? Cleaning up the house and walk Mrs Riley's pet? That's why you're leaving your brothers now? Cal, when are you going to get rid of this shit and be alive again? It's been 3 years already, move on for fuck sake!"

Cal didn't blink. He deserved to be scolded by his gang. He's been no fun, nothing more than a burden for them. A big piece of shit, whining about all he'd lost. Poor thing. Soon he'd lose them.

He was whining again. He's got the best friends he could dream of, people he could call his brothers, who were totally devoted to him, heart and soul.

His family. His home.

Those guys made it all easy for him while his time in prison. Paying him a visit each week, twice a week when they were off. They paid for his lawyer, his loan for the house so he wouldn't be homeless when he got out of prison. So he didn't have to break into his savings and get ruined in 6 months.

They did it in a heartbeat, without thinking nor asking for his permission. They told him it was the right thing to do. The same way Cal had them home, safe and sound after their tour in Iraq. Beside Jaeger's leg, abandoned there. How guilty he had felt, and still.

He owed them... everything.

He leant on his elbows and rubbed his face. He considered staying and trying to relax and have some fun, but his mood was definitely shitty.

Time to shake his thoughts and his big ass. He survived the war, survived in jail, he could survive this night.

"OK fuckers. But I don't want to bury my future here." He emptied his drink, slammed it loudly on the table.

"Let's get home and shake the walls!"

He grabbed his other beer and clinked glasses with his mates, and chugged it whilst his bros cheered and downed their own drinks.

"Last one at my mailbox is a loser!" Cal jumped on his feet and started running through the door.

"Ohhhh, you bastard!" Milk shouted, running after him, quickly followed by an enthusiast Snowball.

Jeager rolled his eyes and took out his wallet to pay the bill. He wouldn't win anyway, his fucking metal leg was no match for those big machines.

The three guys were messing around by the front door, playfully wrestling to pass first.

Cal jammed Milk's head in between his bulging biceps and disheveled his neat hairstyle, having him struggling even more for his freedom, grunting with rage. Snowball was stuck against the wall, the two heavy guys struggling were keeping him to head towards the door.

In a joint effort to get free, Snowball and Milk pushed Cal with all their strength until he popped out like a Champagne cork, sent flying against the wall. Just as the door opened on someone coming in.

Cal ended up glued to them, pinned on the wall, crushed against his broad chest.

"Whoah, whoah, whoah! What the hell?" A muffled voice came from underneath Cal's body.

"Holy shit, I'm sorry!" He apologized, peeling his body from a smaller and thinner one.

His hands flat against the wall, each side of a face. A beautiful face. Still blurry, he was too close to focus.

Never too close... he thought. Her smell itself made him stop.

"I'm sorry!" He uttered, forcing a step back. Finally able to focus on delicate features.

"I'm fine, I'm fine...uh, hey... I'm Jessica. " She said in a big grin as she rearranged the strands of hair away from her face.

"Nice to meet you..." She started, inviting him to introduce himself.

"Milk, nice to meet you gorgeous." The bastard spoke first, getting on Cal's business, more than happy to embarrass his mate.

"And this is Snowball" he continued, shamelessly stepping on Cal's toes and bluntly pushing him to the side.

"Ma'am!" Snowball bowed before an amused Jessica, glancing at the three boys with a smirk. "Please, accept our sincere apologies. I hope this giant idiot didn't hurt you when so roughly trying to get your attention."

Jessica let her eyes wander at the big stud's body and face, making sure it didn't turn into a stare. The man was built like a brick house, huge arms, solid chest, his short hair suggested he was a cop or a soldier, his handsome face obviously annoyed by his friends' demeanour. His gorgeous self nodding his head while pressing his so soft looking lips together. She felt her heart stop and her inside melt when they locked stares. His blue eyes were captivating and something slapped her in the face. Through his hilarious expression and attractive features, he looked so... sad and lonely. So much she wanted to pull him in in a hug and never let him go.

She forced her eyes back at the two dummies still making the show for her.

"And this!" Milk nudged his pal, "this is Chris Callahan, the man you need.

The thoughtfulness itself, well, when it's not nearly killing you, this guy is not only strong, courageous and handsome, thanks God he's also single."

Cal wanted nothing more than vanish from embarrassment after getting rid of that motherfucker of a so called best friend. On a definitive way.

But the more Milk was blurting his shit out, the more Jessica looked amused and kind of interested in him.

Eyeing him. The cutest smile on her lips. Which she bit when she finally was caught staring.

"This big sweet heart is to take darling, and you'd be a fool not to try your luck with him."

Milk got a little closer and lowered his voice "I heard he's got amazing skills, like... look at the size of his feet!"

The 2 guys barked a laugh, clunching at each other while Cam just chuckled and sighed, more uncomfortable than ever. Jessica shared the guys big laugh then winked at Cal, before glancing down to judge their size by herself.

Milk wiped the tears from his face, oh Lord he loved making fun of his mate so very much. Calming down his panting, he stepped back, still hooked to an exhilarated Snowball.

"If you want to excuse us mylady, we're up for a male race contest, where the loser will have to walk butt naked the entire week." He said, bowing out at Jessica, then stepping out of the bar with renewed loud laughs.

Cal just shifted uneasily on his spot, figuring out a way to stop looking like the dumbest guy on Earth.

"Sorry... That was... pretty awkward, wasn't it?" He shyly tried, mentally kicking in own ass to not have found something clever to say.

"Found it very funny actually, you guys made my day!" Her genuine smile cheered him up a little.

"Those guys are total weirdoes, please do not believe a single word of what they say." Cal flashed one of his best smile, pretty sure it would work for him.

"Seems your friends think very highly of you. The resume they made of you is quite appealing, you know." She made it sounds like a joke but couldn't help wondering about that nice guy, nice looking guy all in embarrassment in front of her.

And the size of his... feet.

"Yeah... Well, wait to meet them once they're not drunk and you might hear a different story." Cal shoved his hands deep in his pockets. Looking so cute.

"So... Cal, I'm looking forward to hang out with your smartass group of friends, and hear all kind of stories about you, I bet each more embarrassing than the last!" Jessica's fingers were playing with a strand of her hair against her will, flirting.

And it seemed this didn't get unnoticed, by the way Cal's stare lingered on her delicate features.

"I... I've got to go and look after those drunken asses before they get into more trouble. I won't stop hearing of it if I don't beat them tonight. It was so nice to meet you and again, apologies for so rudely bumping into you."

Chris scratched the back of his neck, torn between two options. Stay and risk to embarrass himself more and more, or leave and risk to never see her again.

"It's OK, Chris I'm fine. We would find a way to make it up for nearly knocking me down earlier. Go get them, we could meet another time. I'm new in town but I'm here for some time, let's catch up later!"

Chris chuckled, mumbled a cocky "sure!" through an enormous grin, dared to throw a wink at her before turning heels and walked out of the bar.

"I hope you lose!" She shouted at him as he reluctantly started to jog towards his mates.

"Thank you...?" Chris turned to face her again, walking backward, wearing an astonished expression. That was not the kind of support he expected.

"I may not know much about you, but I figured seeing you walk up the streets butt naked could be fun!"

Chris couldn't help the large grin taped on his face to turn into a big smile, that charismatic pant-dropping smile that had been MIA for years was finally back.

As he jogged back to his drunken brothers, in absolute no hurry, a light in heart, he felt like that stupid smile wouldn't leave his face for quite a while.

[beetlebitchywitch]

i think about dewey finn bending me over his desk and fucking me A Lot. maybe some hcs on that? bonus if he ties his s/o's hands up with his tie

Guess who’s baaaaaack (also we’re throwing in the reader being a bratty sub, because why not?)

For how much of a brat you can be, Dewey has never felt the need to punish you beyond a few spankings. You love getting under his skin, egging him on, riling him up until he takes it out on you, but he’s never lost his cool the way you really need him to. For that, you’re gonna need to go further than the occasional tease and backsass that usually gets him going. You have a plan, of course.

Dewey really never expected much out of his Wednesday morning, beyond the much-anticipated band rehearsal that was truly the highlight of his school day. That, and having lunch with you, of course. He was never more grateful to Horace Green for hiring you as a Math teacher than the day you finally told him how much you liked him. You’d been inseparable ever since, spending your lunch breaks gabbing about your favorite students, your legs slung over his and laughter ringing out into the air of his empty classroom. Today, however, was markedly different- you hadn’t shown up yet. Dewey was nearly finished his lunch, and you still hadn’t arrived, which is entirely unlike you, given your punctual nature. When the door to his classroom finally opened after 30 minutes, he breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Hey, babe, where have you been?” he asked, looking you over as if to make sure you were alright.

“Oh, sorry Dew,” you said flippantly, shooting him an innocent look. “Reid and I got to talking after our co-taught lesson today and I just couldn’t seem to pull myself away!” Your innocent look turned knowing, a small smirk playing at the corners of your lips as you plopped down in your usual chair, pulling your lunch from your bag as if you hadn’t said anything wrong.

Oh boy, did you say something wrong. Dewey is looking you up and down, wondering if you’d suddenly lost your mind between your goodbye kiss this morning and this moment, because there you were, late to lunch with him because of some prick named Reid, and fuck, what kind of name was Reid anyway? But then he sees your eyes- twinkling with mischief, knowing full well that each word you said was sending hot jealously to pool in the pit of his stomach. Ohhhh, sweetheart, you were in for it. 

“Reid, huh?” he says, glancing down at his desk. “And what were you and Reid discussing that was so important?” His tone is warning- watch yourself, brat, because you don’t want what’s about to happen next.

Oh but you do, you really, really do. 

“Just about our next lesson plan, our home lives, our…love lives,” you said, tacking on that last bit with a quiet murmur. “I told him all about you.”

“Did you now?” Dewey asked, the corners of his lips pulling into a smirk. “Did you tell him how much I love you? How much I need you? How long I’d be waiting for you if you didn’t get out of there when you were supposed to?” His voice drops low, his eyes set intently on you.

“I didn’t think you’d mind, Dew, after all, you can’t always have me whenever you want, can you?” you retorted, quirking one eyebrow as if to challenge him. You heard a growl rumble low in his chest as his smirk vanished from his face, causing heat and wetness to spread between your legs. You’d really done it now, you realized, and maybe, just maybe, he’d snap. 

And snap he did. 

“Who’re you talking to, brat? Better not be me,” he warned, giving you one last chance, one last out. Please, as if you wanted an out. 

“Oh, but I am talking to you,” you said, defiantly holding his gaze. “Maybe I want to spend my lunch break chatting with my very nice co-teacher, what’s so wrong with that? You can be patient and wait for me to be done, can’t yo-”

You would have finished your sentence if not for Dewey silently standing from his chair as he unties his tie. Before you can even think, he has your hands tied in front of you, his dark, striped tie so beautiful on your skin. His face is stony, completely unreadable, but he refuses to look away from you. 

“Get up,” he commanded, his voice soft, quiet, but fuck, so commanding. You scramble from your chair, wrists straining against his tie. He looks you dead in the eye, daring you to continue with your little charade. You keep quiet, waiting for instructions. “My office. Now.” 

You have never moved faster than when he gave you that little, quiet, intense command, somehow communicating such power over you without even raising his voice. He followed close behind you, shutting the office door and locking it deftly as you stand by his desk. He placed both hands on his desk, almost unsure of what he’s planning, but he eventually heaved a deep sigh and looked up at you, nodding quickly at his feet. You fell to your knees immediately, ready to obey, ready to submit.

“I know what you’re trying to do,” he said, reaching his hand out to pet through your hair before gripping it tightly. “Trying to rile me up, hmm? Acting all bratty so you’ll get a rise out of me, so I’ll fuck you extra hard, mark up that pretty skin, leave you all sore and wet? And at our place of work, no less. That was very naughty of you, Y/N, you know that, don’t you?”

You nod, groaning silently at the way it tugs at your hair in his grip. He tuts, releasing your hair and moving to sit at his desk, snapping absentmindedly to call you over to him. You crawl on your knees, nearly falling on your face without being able to use your hands. He refuses to look at you, instead choosing to open his email. You wait, and wait, but he says nothing, not even sparing you a glance. Finally, you break the silence.

“S-sir? What’re you doi-?” Slap. You recoil back, your cheek stinging slightly at the impact of his hand. It wasn’t as hard as he could, not as hard as he usually slapped you even, but fuck if it didn’t leave you wanting. 

“I didn’t give you permission to speak, baby,” he said calmly, clicking away absentmindedly at his keyboard. “You think I’m just gonna give you what you want after that little display? No, the proper punishment for a brat like you is, simply put, nothing. You are going to stay on your knees for me while I work, and if I hear so much as a whimper come out of your mouth, I won’t fuck you for a week. Try and touch yourself, and I’ll edge you until you’re so fucked out you can’t speak, and even then, I won’t let you cum. You have a place, sweet thing, and it’s submitted to me. Let’s see if this next hour doesn’t teach you that, hmm?”

Fuck, his voice. So still, stern, as if he didn’t care one bit about the predicament you just found yourself in. You knew, of course, that this had to be getting him hard, as he loved more than anything to exert his control over you, but the nonchalant nature of his voice made your thighs tremble. So, you hung your head, settling in for what would likely be the longest hour of your life. 

What felt like days passed, your knees sore and aching after such a long time supporting your weight on the linoleum floor, when finally, finally, you heard Dewey’s laptop shut with finality. You could feel his gaze on you now, shivering under the weight of it. 

“How are we feeling now, babydoll?” he asked, his fingertips ghosting over your hair. You chased the feeling, but he kept his touch distant. “You can speak.”

“It h-hurts, Sir,” you said, your voice trembling almost as much as the muscles in your thighs. “P-please…”

“I know it does,” he cooed, “but you were so good for me, taking your punishment like that. How about…I reward you?” 

You perked up at that, feeling the weight of your submission rush over you so quickly it was dizzying. 

“Yes, please, fuck me…” you begged.

“Up,” he commanded, “and over my desk.” Damn, two fantasies with one stone, maybe you should be bratty more often! You stumbled up, feeling the weakness in your legs as you practically threw yourself over his desk, your ass up in the air. He chuckled darkly, letting his hand dip under your pencil skirt.

“This is what you wanted, huh?” he asked, pushing your skirt up and around your hips. “Wanted me to treat you like the slut you are, to punish you for acting out, for questioning me? Oh, I’ll give you what you want, baby, I’ll fuck you so hard I’ll have to carry you out to the car, hmm? Is that what you want?” 

By this point, he has two fingers in you, pressing insistently against your G spot, wrenching pitiful moans from your lips. A hand came crashing down on your ass, loud enough to make you worried that someone may hear you. 

“Answer me, slut! You know better,” he said, letting a third finger dip inside you. 

“Fuck, yes, Sir, please, please fuck me!” you begged. The soft chuckle and clinking of a belt buckle made you spread your legs even further in anticipation, wetness trickling down your thighs. 

“One last chance, sweetness. You know what’s coming next- you still want this?” he asked, letting the head of his cock trace up and down your pussy. Your insistent groan and the impatient shifting of your hips was enough of an answer for him, so he slid slowly inside you, letting the wet heat of you rush over him. His little brat was absolutely in for it, and he absolutely could not wait to punish you properly.

This was clear as he barely gave you ten seconds to adjust to the size of him before he began pounding into you, his nails dragging down your back and leaving angry red lines in their wake. The head of his cock kept hitting your G spot perfectly, sending white hot pleasure to every nerve in your body, and god damn was he absolutely giving it to you. You’ve never been fucked this hard by anyone, let alone Dewey, and with every thrust, you grew more and more desperate for him. He was slapping your ass, pulling your hair, digging his fingers into your hips so hard that you knew there’d be bruises tomorrow, and all you knew was that you needed more. You could barely register the needy, slutty sounds being pulled from you by his cock, but you sure as hell hoped there was no one walking by his classroom anytime soon. 

“Yeah, sweetheart? Does that feel good? Does my bratty little slut know who she belongs to now?” he growls, leaning down to bite insistently at your shoulders and neck, his teeth leaving beautiful little marks that drove him absolutely mad. “Tell me, beautiful, who is it that makes you feel this good? Is it that fucking co-teacher?”

“No, no, it’s you, only yooouufuck-” he silenced you with a messy kiss, his hips canting into you even faster as he pulled your head back by your hair to reach your mouth. 

“That’s fucking right, brat, only me, only mine, you’re mine,” he snarled, reaching down to circle your clit as his thrusts grew erratic. “Scream for me, baby girl, come on, cum, cum for me-”

Everything went white. The office, the desk, even your rosy, bruised skin, it was all white as that pleasure Dewey was demanding shot through you. Your orgasm was damn near silent, your throat so constricted that you could only let out pitiful croaks as your body shook. Clearly, you being absolutely demolished by him was enough for Dewey, as he reached his own climax, spilling into you with a quiet groan and one last slap on your ass. As you both came down, Dewey pulled out and pulled your skirt back down, gathering you up and pulling him into his lap as he lowered into his desk chair. 

“F-fuck, Dew, oh my God,” you said with a laugh, still panting into the crook of his neck. “Please tell me I don’t need to be late for lunch just to get that to happen again.” He laughed, pulling you in for a long, sweet kiss. 

“Don’t worry, baby,” he said. “Knowing you, I’m sure you’ll need me to punish you again sometime real soon.”

MmmmmmmmMMMMMMM, guys, I’m fine, I’m totally fine

Also how do this headcanons always morph into even a mildly possessive Beej/Dewey, it’s like I can never escape

[writteninsunshine]

Hush - Father Anthony Burke/Maurice “Frenchie” Theirault - NSFW

Title: Hush Author: Donnie Fandom: The Nun Setting: Father Burke’s Church Pairing: Father Anthony Burke/Maurice “Frenchie” Theriault Characters: Father Anthony Burke, Maurice “Frenchie” Theriault, OC: Denise Genre: Romance/Spiritual Rating: E Chapters: 1/1 Word Count: 2755 Type of Work: One Shot, Part of the Sins Of The Father series Status: Complete Warnings: Gay, Slash, Yaoi, MLM, Sin Kink, Church Kink, Confessional Booth Glory Hole, Jealousy Kink, ABO Dynamics, Mating (Mentioned), Knotting, Vaginal Sex, Interrupted Sex, Voyeurism, Prayer Kink, AU - Canon Divergent, AU - Modern AU Disclaimer: I don’t own anything except Denise and the other OCs mentioned. Summary: If Anthony Burke knew one thing about Maurice Theriault, it was that he was a glutton for punishment. AN: Hey guys, it’s me again! Just thought I ought to say, if you want vague updates and to talk to me more, I have Twitter and Tumblr, too! Twitter is Sunshinecackle, and Tumblr is Writteninsunshine! I also have a writing Discord that is currently pretty dead. xD I can PM it to people who want it on FFN, for everyone else, it’s here: discord.gg/FyaWw25 Here we have another dirty thing with Father Burke and Maurice. Who knew I would be able to bang out so many words for these two? I guess I have a problem. xD But, regardless, they’re fun to write and I’ve been able to get a lot done, so I’m proud of that, at least. Here we go! All prayers used within are actual Catholic prayers, if that bothers you, please do not read this. This is a very heavy church and sin kink fic, and if you cannot handle that, DO NOT READ IT. I will not interact with people telling me I’m bad or need Jesus or something.

The Nun Fic Masterlist

Hush ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Stepping into the confessional booth after midnight, Maurice felt flighty and exhilarated. He drew the sign of the cross before himself before taking a deep breath and letting it out.

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. My last confession was two weeks ago.” “Two weeks?” Father Burke commented, off-handed but uncharacteristic to his usual attitude, “It seems you have been busy.” “I… Oui.” Maurice answered, “I’ve been thinking impure thoughts, Father. I feel as though I need to be bred by every Alpha I see.” There was a low rumble of a growl on the other side of the wall, and Father Burke had to cover it with a cough. “Just being around certain Alphas I know makes it unbearable.” A slick, wet sound filled the confessional as he slid his hand into his track pants to touch himself, and Father Burke’s scent picked up in interest. “Every Alpha?” He asked, unable to tamp down on the subvocal growl in his words. “Not everyone gets me as wet as you do, Father.” Came the sultry answer as Maurice let himself have a small moan of pleasure, rubbing his fingers over his clit. Eyes rolling back, his jaw dropped, “Can you hear me, Father? Smell me? You do this to me so often… I can barely make it through a sermon without needing to touch myself.” “That is… Sinful, indeed, my son. I… I do indeed smell you. And hear you.” There was a rustling of fabric on Father Burke’s side and it was clear he was readjusting. “This is all I can remember. I am sorry for these and all my sins.” Maurice offered through another moan, and Father Burke finally opened up the small door between the booths. “Your penitence is to serve me, and through me, the Lord,” Anthony replied, accent thick with arousal as he pushed his cock through the hole. “Use your mouth for me.” That growl was still there, thick and possessive as he presented himself. Maurice slipped to his knees in the booth, slurping at the elder’s cock and dipping his tongue underneath the foreskin, just like he liked. Already, he heard the other’s head thunk against the wooden wall between them, and he couldn’t help but take him all the way into his throat. The choked sob of a moan that left the elder man made him giddy and excited, bobbing a few times in rapid succession. Maurice’s throat was warm and wet and tight, just like another particular part of him that he liked, and he couldn’t help but feed himself to him a few times, giving shallow thrusts into his mouth. Anthony panted, moaning unashamedly as he rolled forward, though he was struggling to get that confession out of his head. Every Alpha he saw. Despite Maurice falling into an easy rhythm, he finally pulled back entirely. “I want you in here, with me. Now.” His voice left no room for arguing, so Maurice gathered himself and exited his half of the booth while Father Burke closed the door between them. He stepped in, immediately being pressed into the door when it was closed. Anthony’s lips were on his neck, the warning of teeth pressed to each kiss as he fought the urge to mark him right there. He held both of Maurice’s wrists beside his head, biting into his neck enough to leave indents. “Other Alphas, huh?” He questioned, puffed up over this, his breath hot on the younger’s neck. “I-- Ohhhh, it’s… It was just… For the game.” He managed, his words broken by moans and gasps as he was thoroughly scented and chewed on. “I only think… Think about y-you these days.” “You had better.” Anthony snarled into his skin, nipping his earlobe and jerking his knee between the other’s thighs to give him something to rut against. As expected, Maurice ground himself down into the other’s leg, eyes rolling back with a loud moan. “Only you, I promise~” Maurice whimpered, not caring that he was rubbing the elder’s cock against his pants leg. “Strip, I want you to ride me. Now.” Demanding as he was right now, the thought was too good to pass up. He sat down, his pants already around his ankles, and watched as Frenchie struggled to get out of his own pants. The track pants shouldn’t have been such a challenge, but it took him too long to get his boots off, as well. Crawling into his lap facing him, he sunk down on the elder’s cock and gasped, eyes rolling as he filled him thoroughly in one go. Without waiting for a second, Anthony took hold of his hips and slammed his own upwards, only leaving a gut-punched moan on his lover’s lips. Sucking at his neck and chest, he tugged his shirt up and off as he rutted his hips up, barely giving Maurice a chance to move. Biting into his neck, Anthony tasted his skin with a lick as he pulled the other down on him, and Maurice cried out, going stiff from the pressure on his muscle. There would be no hiding that mark, at least. “If you do not stop me,” Anthony moaned into the bite, licking at it and nuzzling the sensitive skin around it with his nose, “I am going to mate you. Right now.” “O-ooh, fuck, right here?” Maurice didn’t seem so bothered by the thought anymore, hitching his hips in a tight circle as he rolled down. “Yes… Do it.” It wasn’t like he had a knot blocker on him, anyway. Grinding up into him again, Anthony purred loudly in his chest, sucking on the bite mark he’d left behind and happily rubbing the other’s stomach. He’d wanted to pup him up for a while, and this was as good as any chance he’d get. About ready to push him into the wall and fuck him hard, they both went still when they heard the heavy door to the church open. Anthony’s eyes went wide and he quickly fumbled for his pants around the younger man, pulling the scent blockers out and activating them with a swipe of his thumb. “Shh.” He muttered, holding a hand over the other’s mouth and trying to still his hips. “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. My last confession was three days ago.” A woman’s voice broke through the other side, and Father Burke sighed. Frenchie could tell this one came in a lot. “I took some of Daniel’s school supply money to buy more crack.” She told them, not knowing there was a third party, “And I didn’t do anything to put it back. He needs a new backpack, and I smoked all of it in two days. I didn’t take too much, just $50, but he’s upset… And I think I sinned.” “Well, my child,” Father Burke had an amazing ability to not be bothered by the clamping pussy around his cock, and Frenchie thought that was equally frustrating and admirable. Of course he’d have to try and get him to moan or breathe heavy, at least, “You and I both know that taking from your children is sinful, as is using the money to feed a habit the devil provided you with.” The last word hitched a little as Frenchie wiggled in his lap, and Anthony gave him a dirty look and shook his head. ‘Not now’ he mouthed, and the French-Canadian just grinned at him, clamping tight around his cock and making Anthony’s eyelids flutter. “I… I know. I know I sinned. It doesn’t help that Mikayla is starting to smoke at school. Just cigarettes, but I can’t help but think that it’s my fault.” The woman on the other side sobbed into her hands, and Frenchie rounded his hips again. Covering his grunt with a cough, Anthony sighed. “Would you like me to arrange for you to go to a clinic to get help? There is one uptown that is very nice, we work with them often for people in your situation.” “I-- Yes, Father. That would be good, I think. I don’t want to keep doing this to my children.” She told him, “It’s just so hard, being a single mother.” “I understand your-- Your situation.” He had to keep his growl out of his voice somehow, so he rested his face on Frenchie’s shoulder. That opened up his neck to nibbles and kisses, and he had to close his eyes tight and gulp. “I think St. Joseph would be a good place to start, and I could arrange for Margaret to take care of your children while you g-- Get better.” Maurice could feel Anthony flagging inside of him, so he sucked hard on his shoulder, right where he intended to bite him when they mated. His hips rolled and he felt that throb go through him, and he couldn’t help the excitement flooding his system. This was the absolute wrong time for it, and he knew that, but Frenchie was being adamant to finish this. “I’ll do it. For them. Thank you, Father. This is all I can remember. I am sorry for these and all my sins.” “Your penitence will be to apologize to-- To your children,” He grunted slightly, lightly tapping Maurice’s hip as a reprimand, “And then you will check into St. Joseph, and I will help you in the morning. I want you here at ten sharp.” Anthony felt a pang of anxiety in his chest, knowing what must happen next. “Join me in prayer.” Maurice barely contained his moan behind his hand, closing his eyes and sucking in a deep breath. “My God, I am sorry for my sins with all my heart.” Was this truly for Denise, or was it for his own transgressions right now? Even Anthony didn’t know for sure.  “In choosing to do wrong and failing to do good, I have sinned against You whom I should love above all things.” Maurice rounded his hips and lifted slightly, drooling slick down Anthony’s cock and balls, and Anthony had to take a breath, as shaky as it was. “I firmly intend, with Your help, to do penance, to sin no more, and to avoid whatever leads me to sin.” Maurice somehow managed to swallow down another moan, rising and falling slightly in the other’s lap. “Ou-our Savior Jesus Christ suffered and d-di-died for us. In His name, my God, have mercy.” Her voice joining Anthony’s didn’t seem to bother Maurice at all, “Amen. Is that all, my child?” “Yeah, I… I think so. Thank you, Father.” With that, Denise exited the booth and her leave through the large doors left Maurice alone with his lover once more. His hips rolled and Anthony’s hands jumped to them, holding him still. “You,” Anthony began, voice stern, “Are in huge trouble.” “Oh? Why?” Maurice’s hips tried to make another round and he nearly got away with it before Anthony’s firm grip on him kept him in place. “You know what you did. You can’t go doing--” “Then punish me, Father.” Maurice purred, nuzzling his neck again before he was pushed back. Anthony’s hands jumped back to Maurice’s hips to stop him from moving once more. “I will. You love being punished so badly, I don’t think you get a punishment.” “Oh, come on.” Maurice pouted, crossing his arms, “You said you’d mate me.” “And now, I don’t think that I will. Not tonight.” But, that didn’t mean that Anthony was going to stop. He roughly thrust up, before rocketing off the bench and pinning him back against the door. One hand went to the other’s rump, squeezing before giving him a slap that made Maurice’s ass jiggle. “You’re going to have to take your punishment, however, and then offer repentance.” “I thought y-you said I--” “Your punishment is really that you have to wait to be mated, L’Amour. You shouldn’t have done that when she was here to confess.” Though his voice sounded softer, now, his thrusts didn’t let up when he wasn’t busy talking. Each of them pushed Maurice closer, and Anthony finally turned to kiss his lips gently. “Now, we pray. Do you remember the prayer that she spoke…?” “Mnn… Not-- N-not really, F-Father.” Maurice whimpered, getting close enough to his orgasm that it would have left him, anyway. “Then repeat after me, Precioso.” He spoke softly, kissing the other gently on the lips, “Oh Most humane and adorable Jesus, Your endless grace and mercy flows forth. ” Taking a break from his words to give a few more thrusts, Anthony listened to Maurice’s broken moans of the words he’d left him with. “Before granting the gift of absolution to earnest repenters of sinful ways, You demanded a sacrificial compensation. For a wrongful act cannot be rectified until punishment has been accepted.” Another thrust broke the word ‘punishment’ in half as Maurice spoke. “Yes, for the salvation of my soul, Jesus, You accepted the price of the Cross.” Maurice was insanely close now, and Father Burke reached down to grip his Omega’s cock gently but firmly. He wasn’t going to come until they were done. His thrusts didn’t get any easier, however, “Gr-grrrr-grant me the gr-grace to remain free of debts, my he-heart remaining flawless before You, m-ma-making Your absolution truly worthwhile.” With a soft smile, he finally rolled his hips forward to bury his knot inside Maurice, causing him to shriek while he murmured ‘Amen’ into the Omega’s neck. It was harder than he thought not to bite down, but Anthony knew that if he didn’t stick to the punishment, Maurice would never listen to him. Instead, he kissed at his Adam’s apple, focusing on licking him in time to his haggard breaths. Maurice appreciated the thought, rocking his hips slightly to secure the hold on him, and his eyes rolled back as Anthony let go of his cock. “Ooh… Father,” he gasped, “It feels… So good.” To finally come went unsaid, because Maurice didn’t need to get in more trouble for nearly interrupting Denise’s confession. It already cost him the mating, and that was bad enough to get his mind on a hopefully better track of thought. “You feel good, too, Maurice.” Anthony purred into his neck, nipping his earlobe gently, “And when the time is right, I will mate you, if you still want me to.” Dragging his lips back to Maurice’s, he kissed him gently, nuzzling their noses together. “I--” Maurice went a little still, but he wasn’t quite stiff, watching the elder with a pensive frown before he relaxed again, “I think I am… Heavily considering it.” That was the best he could come up with, laughing softly at himself before shaking his head. “I’ve never dated someone this long before.” He added, resting their foreheads together as Anthony moved them back to the bench. “If I recall, you’ve never dated anyone else.” He offered softly, kissing those plump lips gently once more, “Though I am flattered that you chose me to be the first.” Had any of the others tried to dig their claws in, Maurice would have already been spoken for. Perhaps it was luck, but Anthony liked to think that God was rewarding him for his hard work; Even though there were things he wasn’t so proud of, that haunted the back of his mind quite often. Maurice helped to keep those thoughts at bay, and he didn’t know what he’d do if he was eventually turned away. “I’m happy that you are the first.” Maurice told him honestly, kissing back gently, “I don’t think I’ve ever tasted romance before. It is delicious.” “You are incorrigible.” Anthony laughed, gently lapping at his lips and teeth, “Also delicious, but mostly incorrigible.” “I… Have no idea what that means,” Maurice replied, eyes down, and Anthony tipped his head up again to kiss him once more. As much as Maurice beat himself up for not understanding things often, Anthony never minded explaining things to him. “You will continue to sin and I must be here to try and steer you straight. With… More of this, I suppose. Romance and your favorite punishments.” “I like the sound of that.” Maurice murmured against his mouth, happy to have a good man in his life for once. “I could get used to this.” “I sincerely hope that you do.” ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ AN: Can I write anything for these two that is less than six pages? Evidently not so far. At any rate, I hope you guys enjoyed!

[thesillygoose3000]

Going to California oneshot

Just thought I’d share this fanfic I wrote of Robert/Jimmy. I previously posted it on rockfic.com. It takes place when Jimmy and Robert were in the Yardbirds. WARNING: 18+.

Enjoy this trash, y’all.

Robert put the bowl to his lips and breathed in. He held it for a moment, then breathed it out the open windowsill into the warm night air. That was the last of his ganja. He sighed, and opened the cabinet where he kept his liquor. Nothing. Not even a drop of wine left. Robert had forgotten that he had already drank everything in sight last night. Here it was, the night before he was supposed to leave, and he couldn’t even have a good time.

           California was a long way away from England. Robert walked over to the kitchen table where he last placed his wallet, and noticed his plane ticket sticking out of it, ready and waiting to go. He pulled it out of his wallet, and looked over it. His flight left bright and early tomorrow at a modest 7:30 in the morning. Robert slid it back into the billfold, and sat down on the flowered couch. His mind hummed with a steady stream of thoughts.

           He still hadn’t told his band mates that he was leaving yet. The blond decided that it would be best that way. He knew they would try to talk him out of it, and he didn’t want that. He had made up his mind, and that’s that. California would be good for him, Robert thought. Half way across the world, in the hazy fever dream known as America. A fresh place where nobody knows his name, his problems, his dreams, his fears…

           There was a knock on the door of his apartment. Who the bloody hell could it be at this hour? Robert peered through the peephole and saw a young man standing there with shoulder-length tresses of black waves, with one bagged eye covered.

           “What is it now, Jimmy?” Robert said with a sigh, opening the door. “Telly go out on you again?”

           “Yeah.” Jimmy pushed his way past Robert and turned the knob on the television. The dark haired man flipped through the channels until Dark Shadows appeared on screen in gritty black and white.

           Robert snorted. “You actually like this show?”

           Jimmy shrugged. “I’ve taken the piss for a lot worse.”

           “Right…”

           “Got anything to eat in here?”

           Robert rolled his eyes. “I’m not a chef. Jesus.”

           “But do you?”

           Robert sighed. “I’m sure there’s something in there.”

           Jimmy went to the kitchen and began rifling through it. Robert shook his head and sat down on the couch again. Jimmy returned with a bag of prawn crisps.

           “Want some?” He gestured the bag to Robert, who shook his head. “What’s the matter with you? You’re acting different.”

           “I’m leaving tomorrow,” Robert blurted out.

           Jimmy stopped shoveling crisps into his mouth. “What do you mean?”

           “Just what I said. I’m leaving tomorrow.”

           “You’re leaving the Yardbirds?”

           “Sort of.” Robert avoided eye contact with his friend.

           Jimmy’s green eyes widened. “Why the hell would you do that? We’re just getting started for God’s sakes.”

           Robert exhaled heavily through his nose. This is exactly why he didn’t want to tell his bandmates that he was leaving; they wouldn’t understand. “Jim, listen to me. I just think that I need a change of pace. I need to make something of myself. So I’m going to California to start anew.”

           “I don’t buy that load of shit for one minute,” Jimmy said. Robert did a double take, and blinked his eyes a couple of times.

           “Don’t believe me? Take a look at this.” Robert got up and retrieved the plane ticket, waving it in front of his friend’s face.

           “Gimme that.” Jimmy snatched the ticket out of Robert’s hand. His uncovered eye quickly scanned the piece of paper. He bit his lip, and handed it back to the blond.

           “I see.”

           “Yup.” Robert flopped down onto the couch again, resting his crossed legs on Jimmy’s lap. “Tomorrow, I’ll be gone.”

           Jimmy’s face softened. “Are you excited?”

           Robert put a tasseled pillow behind his head. “Not really.”

Jimmy turned his head to face Robert, one heavy set green eye looking at two alert ice blue ones. “What’s the real reason you’re going to California?”

“Pardon?”

“What’s the real reason you’re leaving?”

“That, I can’t tell you.”

Jimmy looked hurt. “I’m your best friend. You can tell me anything.”

Robert shifted his head towards the telly. “Some things are better left unsaid.”

“Well,” Jimmy started to say, “I’m going to miss you.”

“As will I miss you.” Robert thought for a moment as the two of them sat in silence, the only sounds being the softly spoken dialogue of the soap opera. He nudged Jimmy in the ribs with his knee.

“What?”

Robert sat up, and faced Jimmy again. The guitarist’s one visible eyebrow was furrowed with concern, and his plush lips were slightly parted. Robert brushed a lock of curly gold out of his face. “Tell you what. If you can give me one good reason to stay, I will stay.”

“Cross your heart?”

Robert chuckled at the grade school promise. “Cross my heart.”

Jimmy gently put his hand behind Robert’s mass of golden curls, and smushed his lips against his friend’s. Robert felt a tinge of pleasure go through his body; he didn’t want it to stop. Jimmy took the lead once again and gently pulled Robert’s bottom lip with his two front teeth.

Was it getting hotter than the Devil in church in here, or was it just him? A smattering of red spread across Robert’s face as Jimmy slid his tongue into his mouth. It felt so different than the kiss of a woman; no, this was more powerful, more demanding, more assertive. Robert found himself welcoming Jimmy’s tongue inside, embracing its warm, silky, slick feeling against his own. The singer’s hands wanted to wrap themselves around Jimmy’s long and lanky form, but they hesitated until the two men realized they were falling off the couch and onto the shag carpeted floor.

They both landed with a soft thud, and they clunked heads together, Jimmy on top of Robert. Jimmy sat up, his thighs on either side of Robert’s small hips. Robert’s breathing quickened, taking in the sight of his friend. He towered over the singer, his t-shirt starting to cling to his skinny body from both of their sweat from the unprecedented encounter. Jimmy’s chest heaved up and down, breathing heavily. He looked off to the side, and flipped his hair out of his face.

“I’m so sorry. I’ll stop now,” he said.

Robert sat up and grabbed Jimmy by the collar of his soaked white t-shirt. “I didn’t say stop.” He peeled off Jimmy’s shirt and pushed him to the floor. They started to roll around on the floor, making out like teens that have just discovered that the opposite (or even same) sex isn’t gross.

“C’mon, Jim,” Robert said, pulling away from Jimmy’s lip, a string of saliva going with it like cheese on a pizza.

“C’mon, what?”

“Aren’t you going to fuck me?”

Jimmy’s eyes went wide. “Fuck you? Are you sure?”

“If that is what you wish,” Robert said, sweat dripping down his face, and rolling down his chin.

“Well, then, Roberto, of course I will.”

Roberto. Oh, God, yes. Jimmy snaked Robert’s trousers off of his legs, and pulled off his boxers right after. What was left was a naked Robert, his porcelain skin and elegant locks of gold shining in the low light.

“Roberto the cherub,” Jimmy said with a teasing smile.

“Bloody hell, Jim,” Robert replied, his eyes looking to the ceiling for guidance.

“Bend over.” Jimmy grabbed Robert by the curls and shoved him down to all fours. Jimmy shed himself of his own clothes, exposing a quite large member hidden beneath those bellbottoms.

“Shit,” Robert muttered.

“Oh, shut up. I’ve seen girls take it better than you.”

“Try me.”

“Alright then.” Jimmy spit on his hands and rubbed them together, then rubbed them on his dick. He grabbed Robert’s hips, and shoved himself inside. Robert groaned, the pain of being stretched out mixed with the pleasure of being filled. He ground his teeth together, and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Ohhhh,” was all he could say. Jimmy smiled. He grabbed onto the blond’s hips and pushed in and out slowly, almost rhythmic. Robert’s fingers curled into the shag carpet, hanging on for the ride of his life. So this is how it feels, Robert thought. No wonder the ladies were lining up.

“Harder,” the blond said.

“Alright.” Jimmy pumped harder and faster. Robert’s glass pendant that he wore around his neck thumped on his chest with each thrust, like a heartbeat. Jimmy’s hands dug into Robert’s soft flesh, then his nails.

“Augh, what’re you doing, mate?” Robert said.

“I can’t ride you if I can’t hold on somehow,” Jimmy whispered in Robert’s ear. His soft voice almost tickled, sending pins and needles down the singer’s spine.

“Fine.” Robert shoved his ass against Jimmy’s member.

“Roberto,” Jimmy cried out as he came. Robert felt Jimmy’s cock contract and relax inside of him. He felt a trickle of something warm run out and down the inside of his thigh. It was too much.

“Jim,” Robert shoved his forehead into the carpet and ground his teeth together. Jimmy’s hand grabbed the blond’s dick, and smoothly glided his hand up and down until it quickly released a steady stream of white all over the gray carpet. After that, the two of them collapsed on the floor.

“Gross,” Robert said. “I just lay down in it.” Jimmy laughed. He gently turned Robert over onto his back, and pushed some curls out of his face. Robert lay there, semen all over his stomach, and glass pendant resting in the hollow of his collar bone. His blue eyes were not looking at Jimmy; they were looking past him. Wondering, and thinking.

Jimmy looked worried. “What is it?”

Robert smiled. “Nothing. Nothing at all.” He got up, and went to the bathroom to wash himself. “Be out in a minute,” he said.

Cold water ran down his slight back. Cum was still slowly trickling down his legs. What a strange feeling. He washed his hair, a lather of soap fluff on top of his head. He thought about what he just did with his best friend. God. He turned the knob all the way to the right. Ice cold water rinsed out his hair, sending the shampoo and conditioner down the drain. He dried himself off with a fluffy white towel, and went back out to join Jimmy.

“Where’d you go?” Robert yelled.

“In here,” Jimmy called back from the bedroom.

“Really, Jim?” Robert crossed his arms over his chest at the sight of a naked Jimmy in his bed.

“Yeah. I’m tired as hell.” Jimmy pulled down the country quilt. “Plus, you have to leave tomorrow. You need some sleep.”

Robert climbed into the four-poster bed, and pulled the warm covers over his naked body. “Yeah, tomorrow.”

The summer night breeze blew the curtains around, and tousled Robert’s wet hair. Jimmy put his arm around Robert’s waist, and pulled him close.

“Your hair smells like flowers,” Jimmy mumbled. He nuzzled Robert’s cheek with his nose.

“Jimmy.”

“What?”

Robert turned to face his best friend. “I think I found a reason to stay.”

The End.

[sherlollydramoine]

Another WIP Preview

Here’s another random update on some stuff that I’ve been working on. Anything posted here may possibly be a huge chunk of the fic, or just a snippet. All of these works are unedited and are in the rough draft phase of writing. Please leave me your feedback either via an ask, a message, or a comment. 

1. Love At the Shore, requested expansion from a fic title request. RAMI X READER

Getting invited by your best friend, Alicia, from college to hang out with her in her hometown of LA for the last month of summer before you headed back to school was the best thing you’ve ever done. Glad to be free from your toxic family for a few weeks left you feeling excited, and perhaps way more than willing to let loose. So when Alicia suggests that you head to the beach for the afternoon, you were more than happy to go. You were going to miss this though, as the summer was quickly coming to a close, soon enough it was back to the grind of textbooks, tests, and the stress that accompanies college life. 

Maybe it’s because she’s from LA, or just part of her personality but Alicia is a force to be reckoned with. She doesn’t take shit from anyone and is the biggest badass out of everyone you’ve ever met. Her enthusiasm and energy was relentless and also somehow infectious. She has always had a way of lighting up a room and brings the fun to everything. Most people assume that her attitude and demeanor makes her stupid which couldn’t be further from the truth. She’s pre-med, always made the deans list and is in the top 1% of your graduating class. 

“Y/N did you grab the beer from the fridge and put them in the cooler?” she asks, as she throws her gorgeous brown hair up on top of her head.

“Yes. I also put all the snacks in there. Why do we need so much food?” 

“The boys are joining us for some sun and fun, and they can eat.” she laughs out.

“Oh God Al-is this a good idea? I mean that suit is-it’s tiny.” 

Her laughter was infectious and her brown eyes full of amusement. 

“That’s the point. You are here to party before you get bogged down by school responsibilities. It fits you perfectly and honestly, you’ll have no problem finding some decent dick later if that’s what you are aiming for. And Sami’s brother is fucking hot. I mean, I may be biased, but they are also identical twins.. soooo.” she continues laughing.

“It always comes back to getting dicked with you doesn’t it?”

“Not always, I don’t get any when I’m at school unless Sami or I decide to visit each other. The pain of having been in a committed relationship for well over six years. So I guess, I don’t know, I need to live vicariously through you.”

“Living vicariously through me? You’ve pretty much been getting dicked the entirety of the summer, and you’ve disappeared on me several times while I’ve been here; for Sami’s dick.”

“The boy will be here soon, so go get your ass into your suit!”

Doing as she said you went to her spare room to change. Silently cursing her for insisting that you wear the tiniest black bikini known to man. It barely covered anything, and you felt uncomfortable. Throwing on the cutoff shorts and off the shoulder top she picked for you to wear over your suit, you head into the living room in search of your sandals your body.

“Hey Allie, can I borrow your-” you started, as you came around the corner of the hallway into the living room you collided with someone.

“Oh! I’m so sorry.” you mutter out an apology.

“It’s alright. You must be YN, I’m Rami, Sami’s brother.” 

“Yeah I kind of figured.” you smile, as he shrugs and you watch something you think is amusement play across his face.

2. Animals - this is piece currently sitting pretty at over 7k. Enjoy this chunk. WARNINGS: THIS CONTAINS LANGUAGE & SMUT.. RAMI X READER

“C’mon babe it’ll be fun! Seriously, there is no privacy for us anywhere and I’m tired of sneaking around just to get an opportunity to give my girl some proper lovin’” he whined, in your ear. “It’s bad enough that neither of us have been able to travel as much since I left for school, and I miss you so fucking much. I  get so much crap from my classmates about how much time I spend thinking about you.”

You were laying down in the backseat of his car, with him still on top of you, as you had just finished have some pretty incredible sex. And now he was trying to convince you that both should go on your first random road trip together. Or rather a spontaneous adventure as he kept referring to it.

“I don’t know. I have to work and you are only going to be home from school for a very short period of time. Your family misses you a lot and I don’t want to take you away from them more than I already have. I don’t want them to hate me more than I’m sure they already do.”

“Well, that’s up to you. I know you have quite a bit of savings, as do I. Believe it or not, I’ve managed to put away a decent chunk of money, even as a poor college student. Mama taught me how to be frugal. And don’t talk like that because you know for a fact that my family adores you. My brother keeps giving me shit about the fact that we aren’t married yet. He said that he was certain that it would have happened the day I turned eighteen.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that statement because marriage was something that both of you had talked about since we were sixteen. Both of you are fairly certain that it was an inevitability for you both.

“You know what? We are young, in love, so why the hell not. Let’s do it. I hate my stupid fucking job anyway and there will always be other job opportunities.”

“That’s the spirit! I love you. I’m so happy that you decided to say yes, because I have a few surprises that I had planned, if you had said yes to this.”

“When should we leave?”

“Tonight?” 

“Great, but what time tonight? I get off work at 10, but I don’t want to smell like the diner so I’d want to go home and at least shower first.”

“Since I was going to drop you off at work, I can pick you up and take you home so that you can shower and then we go after that. Does that sound like a plan?”

“Yes. Now come here lover boy. I want you so bad right now. We’ve got time to make up for.”

“Again? Didn’t we just-” you cut him off mid sentence with a kiss. His mouth not putting up much of a fight against yours. Your fingers threading through his wild hair as you pull him closer. 

Your naked bodies already tangled together in the backseat of the car, your hips bucked into his, and you can feel his hardening member against your thigh. He stops momentarily to grab his jeans off the floorboard to grab another condom out of his pocket, and he wastes very little time slipping it on. 

“Mmmm baby.. I want you so fucking bad.” you murmur against his ear.

Your body so easily turned on by him, was already slick and ready, and you couldn’t help the low moan that escapes you as he slides into you. Wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist you buck your hips in time with his thrusts. 

The only sounds you could hear was the squeaking of the car as it rocked in time with your joint movements, and the quiet moans that you were both letting out.

“Ohhhh. Yes baby… don’t stop…”

“Fuck baby, always so tight for me. I love you. You feel so good. Just.. uhhh.. Fuckkkk.. Yesss..” 

Skin slapping skin as your hips meet in time with each other, your desperation for each growing in this heated moment. Your nails clawing at his back as his thrusts become more frantic in their pace. 

Unable to restrain your pleasure you let it all out with a series of moans as you continued your assault on his back. Your moans only spurred him on further, your bodies slick with sweat, his moans in your ear getting louder.

“Yesss baby…. Godddd… yesss….please don’t stop baby.. Fuckkkk…. I’m so close… So close…. “ you whined in his ear. 

His lips descend on yours for a heated kiss as he his hips pounded into yours, working to push you over the edge and into the depths of your orgasm. 

It took a few more thrusts of his hips to get you there, but you came around him with a muffled scream of his name, your nails digging further into his back. You felt his cock twitch, body stiffen, as he followed you into orgasmic bliss. 

His body collapsed on top of yours, as you held on to him tightly until you both were recovered enough to finally move again.

“Damn babe. That was hot.” he smiled, your naked bodies still tangled together.

“It always is with you my love.”

“I can feel it now babe, but seriously, I think you fucked up my back. Jesus woman, you are seriously like a fucking cat. I can’t take my shirt off for a while now, or my brother will give me so much shit and the rest of my family will know exactly what the hell we’ve been up to. They know we are together, but I think with them, ignorance is bliss.”

You giggled and could feel yourself turning red with embarrassment,”I’m sorry my love. I wasn’t even aware that I was doing it, but if it makes you feel better, I won’t walk right for a week.”

The smug look on face told you that he was happy with that compromise.

“I wouldn’t worry about your back anyway since we are leaving tonight, so who gives a fuck who sees you with a clawed up back. Maybe I was just marking my territory. Hell, I’ve got enough hickies all over me that I might as well be a walking advertisement for ‘committed relationships’” you shrug, as you both sat up in the back seat, and started to re-dress. 

“I hate when our time together comes to an end like this, but I should probably get you home so that you can get ready for work.” 

“Me too. I should just say ‘fuck it’ and just go to work all mussed and smelling like sex.” you giggled again.

“Oh fuck babe, that would be so hot, but no, I promised my brother that we’d go to dinner tonight. He knows how bad I want to see you though, so he suggested that we go to your diner for dinner. Their burgers at least are delicious.” he smiled into your hair.

“I love you so much Rami. I swear you are the best and bless your brother for giving up some of his precious little time with you just for us. Maybe I fell in love with the wrong twin.” you tease, laughing at the mock hurt on his face.

“How dare you!” he gasps in shock, as he dramatically places his hand over his heart.

“Oh you!” you poke him in his stomach and he yelps. “Always so freaking dramatic…”

“Ha! I’m an actor, that’s what I’m supposed to do. Ya know? Be dramatic!”

You roll your eyes at him,”You’ve always been a dramatic ass bitch, but it’s alright, I still love you anyway.” 

“Ugh.” he dramatically sighed.

“Seriously? The dramatics again.”

His laugh was loud as he playfully shoved you, before he opened the back door of the car and climbed out, stretching his body. God you almost started drooling watching his body as it stretched. His shirt riding up on his stomach just a little bit, and for some reason you had to resist the urge to bite it. Next time, you are definitely going to leave a little mark there, right above the ‘v’ of his delicious hips. Leave your mark on him, like staking a claim, a little something that temporarily marks him as yours.

You followed his lead and exited the back of the car, smoothing your dress down over your hips before leaning against the drivers side door waiting for him to wander his way back to you. Once he was in front of you, you throw your arms around his neck and give him a sweet chaste kiss. 

“I love you so damn much. How the hell did I get so damn lucky?” you smiled, tears filling your eyes from all of the random emotions swirling around inside of you.

“Aw baby don’t cry. I love you too! Don’t doubt yourself love, because I’m the lucky one. The luckiest man alive because I have you.” he reassured as you sniffled into his chest. 

“No way. Me. I’m… I’m.. I’m.. just.. I’m so plain.” you gestured to your body as if to demonstrate your point.

“Excuse me. No. I wish you could see yourself the way that I see you. I see a beautiful woman with the kindest eyes, beautiful hair, and a generous heart. I’m the lucky one because have you seen me? The guy with big eyes that looks so different from the majority of my peers.” he tried echoing your earlier movements.

“NO! DON’T YOU EVER SAY THAT! You’re eyes are so expressive and gorgeous. I’ve known you forever and I still can’t figure out exactly what fucking color they are. They are… I call them ‘ocean eyes’ because they are ever changing from green to blue to sometimes gray. You are so talented and anyone that doesn’t see how talented you are is a fucking loser. And you will be successful no matter what because you want it, your live it, you fight for it. You are the love of my life, and I will stand behind you and support you no matter what!” holding him a little tighter now, because you know how insecure he can be about the way he looks.

“Oh babe. Look at us, arguing over our looks. If anyone overheard this conversation would think we are the two most shallow individuals on the planet.” he laughs, trying to lighten the mood.

“Rami, this is fucking LA, ninety-eight percent of the population is made up of a bunch of shallow assholes. So for someone to overhear a conversation about our looks would just think we are another bunch of wannabe somethings.”

Another bark of laughter from him before he kisses your forehead. 

“Okay, we need to get going now or both of us are going to be late.”

It was your turn to laugh again before you pointed out the fact that his name should actually be Rami Late-For-Everything Malek. To which he actually just flipped you the bird and that made you laugh so much harder than you already were. That was your Rami, playful and fun, sarcastic and just.. he was always making you laugh.

Sighing you climb into the passenger seat and buckle up, he puts the car in drive and cranks the radio up. You both singing along loudly and off-key to nearly every song that came on. Time seemed to pass by all too quickly and before you knew it, you were outside your house. You lean over to give him a not so chaste kiss, pulling away all too quickly. 

“I’ll see you in a few hours baby. Oh, I forgot to tell you, bring your birth certificate and passport with you, just in case we decide to do something reckless on our little trip.” he smiled conspiratorially at you, before giving you a wink. He can’t wink for shit, but it's adorable watching him try. 

Confusion racking your brain, but not questioning his motives you shut the door, and watch him drive away. Feeling like you were floating on air you nearly dance your way into the house that share with your parents and begin packing for your trip. 

You decide to pack fairly light, even though you have no clue how long this trip is going to last for and you grab the documents that he requested that you bring with you, putting them in a plastic Ziploc bag, and shoving them into your backpack. 

Deciding to lay down for about an hour to take a small nap before work, your body a little tired from the vigorous activities earlier this afternoon. Waking with your alarm, you get up and take a quick shower, and then get dressed in your ugly work uniform, grab your bags and head out the door. Standing at the end of your driveway waiting for Rami to show,  a little late like always, your mind wanders to what he had said earlier. What could he possibly mean by ‘if we decide to do something reckless?’ The thoughts rolling around in your brain, you must have looked like an idiot standing there lost in thought that you barely registered that he had pulled up. 

“Yoooo babe!!!” he hollered out the window which snapped you out of your thoughts. 

“Sorry, I’m comin!” you holler back. “Oh pop the trunk I’m going to throw my shit in there.”

He does as you ask, and you toss your backpack and small duffle bag into the trunk of his car, and you notice that he has several bags already in there, including what looked like a garment bag.

“Hey Sami!” you smile, as you climb into the backseat. You hadn’t even realized that his brother was in the car with him when he pulled up.

“Hey Y/N. How’ve you been?” he asks, a small smile on his face. 

“Great. But you don’t have to ask, I just saw you last week before Rami came home. So compared to how I was last week I am doing so much better. Happier. Ugh babe, I can’t believe the seat isn’t dry yet. Jesus it’s had a few hours to bake in the sun and it’s still wet. Now my ass is going to be all wet when I get to work.”

Sami nearly spit his water all over the dash as his brother was now speeding down the highway towards your place of work, and Rami just wore a smirk.

“You two are fucking disgusting. Animals.” Sami grumbles.

“That we are Sami-cakes, but the sex is always worth it.” you managed to get out between fits of giggles.

“Dude, she just called me ‘Sami-cakes’ like.. Seriously?”

“She calls me Rami-cakes, so Sam that just means that she likes you. She did tell me earlier that she thinks perhaps she fell in love with the wrong twin.”

The twins laughter rang through the car, against the noise of traffic. 

“So what the hell did you two do while I wasn’t around? 

“The same thing we always do, just bro stuff.” Rami replied.

@txmel @xmxisxforxmaybe @itsme690 @mrhoemazzello @r-ahh-mi @free-rami 

[batneko]

Wildlife Rehabilitation, 4

some lemon content in this one friends! also some feels. also some more characters!

words: 9482 rating: M

[previous]

MOMEN RIDER BIG WORM NEW HERO

“Who is that guy?”

“I dunno, somebody new?”

“Look at him go, damn.”

“Why's he just jumping around, why isn't he-”

“Oh look, there's Mumen Rider!”

“Hey yeah, that's totally him. What are they doing?”

“Is that fl- OHHHH!”

“Ohh!”

“Ahahahaha!”

“Wow!”

“Holy shit, it just went right up.”

“God damn.”

Somehow – and if Garou ever figured out who was responsible he would kick their ass – the old man found him. It was a day off so he'd slept in, and for the second time in a month he came downstairs to find a hero having tea with one of the landlords.

“What the hell is this?” Garou demanded. The landlord was the younger one, relatively speaking, and Garou didn't know what his career was before he'd founded the halfway house. Only that his name was Daisuke and he was nearly as muscular as a Tank Topper. He glanced at Garou over his tea cup and said nothing.

“I can't pay a visit to my former student?” the old man asked.

“Not without warning! Not without permission!”

Daisuke stood up. “Sorry, Bang-san, but if Garou doesn't want you here you need to leave.”

Garou hesitated. He was touched, he didn't get backed up very often, even now, but he didn't want the old man actually thrown out on the street when he'd come all this way.

“Well, wait a second,” Garou said. He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Uh. What do you want, anyway?”

Bang hadn't moved in his chair aside from greeting Garou, and he didn't move now either. “Just to see how you were settling in.”

“I've been here for a while already. Like two months.”

“Yes,” Bang said. He set his cup down, hard, rattling the table. “And you didn't think to contact me during that time? During any of the last year?”

Garou raised his chin. “Didn't want to get beat up again. You want me to call you you gotta give me a reason, old man.”

“I've got no interest in fighting you again, Garou-kun,” Bang said. “I never did.”

“Bullshit.”

“Even if I was, you're paying your debt to society.” He raised his eyebrows. “It's true you turned yourself in?”

Garou hunched his shoulders. “No point in runnin'.”

“Hm. Well. You know you're always welcome at the dojo.” Bang started to stand up. “The school is no longer open, but-”

“Can't,” Garou said flatly.

Bang paused, half-upright. “What?”

“Can't.” Garou tapped his collar. He'd already gotten so used to it he could poke the green light without looking. “Bad dog collar. I can't leave this neighborhood without a Hero chaperoning.”

Bang's fingers tightened on the edge of the table, and Garou recognized the way he snatched his hand away before it cracked. “You... are joking. Garou-kun?”

Garou shook his head.

Bang looked at the house dad. “Daisuke-san?”

Daisuke shook his head.

“They have you under house arrest? And yet they're making you work for them?”

“How do you not know this, old man?”

“Why would I? I only found out where you were because-” He stopped, and stepped away from the table. “Garou-kun, how far can you go?”

Garou waved vaguely at the door. “To the grocery store, but barely.”

“Let's take a walk.”

“Really?” Garou sighed. “Fine.”

“Garou,” Daisuke stood up. “Y'okay?”

“Yeah,” Garou smiled, trying not to force it too hard. “Thanks man. It's fine. If gramps here didn't kill me before, he's not gonna now.”

“That's not encouraging, but okay.”

The old man bought him some snacks, which was nice, but the conversation went pretty much the way Garou had been dreading. Questioning everything he'd done with the Hero Association, everything he'd done before he got caught, everything that happened to him in prison... Everything, pretty much.

“Surely this is inhumane treatment,” Bang said when Garou explained the details of the collar.

“It's better than jail.”

“Not if your prison sentence was shorter!”

“It probably wouldn't be. I caused some permanent damage, yanno.”

“Well... That's...” The old man couldn't argue the point. “There's no reason it has to be a collar.”

“I'm with you there, gramps.” It was so obvious. Tareo had asked if it would blow up if Garou left the city.

“Has your lawyer put in a... I'm not certain what the paperwork would be called.”

“An appeal,” Garou said. “Yeah, he did. It's just so long, you know? If it was a solid six years I think I could handle that better. Instead it's hours I gotta work.”

The old man was quiet, for a long time. Garou already knew these blocks so well that he saw them in his dreams, so he was content to let his feet carry him until he reached the edge of his leash, then turn.

“This is it?” Bang asked.

“Yep.”

He looked around, taking in the mundanity of it all.

“I'll see what I can do,” Bang said, with a tone like he was about to cause some very bad days.

“You can't do anything, old man. You're not a Hero any more.”

“I know Heroes. I know the people who know people.”

Garou winced. “Never say that again.”

“I will see what I can do,” Bang repeated, firmly, and Garou let it drop.

SAW HEROS AT THE NOODLE PLACE

Silver fang's retired, idiot. Not a hero anymore

whos the guy with silver fang

don't know some guy

student of his? Myabe

they look alike maybe it's his grandson

he's hot tho right??

Dude.

you were all thinking it

“Where we going today?” Garou asked, strapping on his helmet without being asked. He'd gotten used to the damn thing, and he had some tricks to keep it from flattening his hair too badly.

“J-City,” Mumen said. “There's reports of some weird activity, so I've been patrolling over there.”

“Weird how?”

“The usual, unfortunately. Animals disappearing, destruction in the night with no witnesses, a few drunks turned up at the police station with wild stories. It always takes a while before people put together the clues.”

“What's all that mean?”

“There's something in the city. Something that eats animals and looks terrifying from a distance. And...” Mumen frowned. “It's odd. But a couple times when monsters were defeated their bodies disappeared before the Association could properly dispose of them.”

Garou snapped his fingers. “Yeah! Bat told me about that. Metal Bat. He said it's been going on for a while.”

“Has it?” Mumen's frown deepened. “I hadn't heard. That could be important.”

“S'not just J-City though. It's happening all over.”

“That's definitely important.” He tilted his head. “Though not right now. If it's happening all over it's probably unrelated to whatever's lurking in J.”

Garou mounted up in his usual position. Mumen's shoulders were warm beneath his fingers. “You don't actually think we'll find it, do you?”

Mumen looked back at him, then shook his head. “Not really. But it's a Hero's job to keep the people safe! And that includes day-to-day. We're just going to go over there and... look around. Make sure nobody's being reckless. Maybe some traffic safety reminders for the kids.”

Garou chuckled. “I knew you were gonna say traffic safety, I fuckin' knew it.”

Mumen gave a half smile and started to brace himself to take off. “Please don't swear in front of the kids.”

“I'll try.”

They took the train, sticking Mumen's bike in the back of one car and standing out of the way of the commuters. There were some people carrying beach bags and picnic baskets, and Garou recalled that J City butted up against the ocean.

“Hey,” Garou said as they hit the streets. “This isn't where those sea folk attacked that time, isn't it?”

For some reason Mumen winced. “Yes it is.”

“Huh, that was right before I ran away. Wow. Feels like forever now.”

“Mm,” Mumen said distantly. “Come on, let's go.”

“Okay.”

Mumen wasn't kidding about the traffic safety. Garou hadn't really thought he was (though he'd hoped) but he was surprised at how much of this stuff Mumen had down. In fact, once they'd gathered an audience and Mumen started asking questions, Garou found out he knew less than the kids did. Which prompted Mumen to carefully take him by the shoulders and place him in the middle of the “students.”

It was embarrassing, for a couple minutes, but Garou noticed how the kids paid better attention once they no longer felt they were being talked down to. And when a little girl took Garou's hand to practice crossing the street he practically melted.

There was one kid hanging back from the others, watching but not joining. Garou assumed he was somebody's brother until he saw the way the kid's eyes followed Mumen specifically. Could be a fan, but... it didn't look like it.

Well, he was just a kid.

Garou focused on Mumen's safety lesson, mostly so that the girl who'd adopted him would stop poking his ribs, and was mildly annoyed by how much he learned. Not like it mattered, cars couldn't hurt him any more, but it was probably good to know. Like if kids tried to copy him. Or so he didn't get yelled at by old ladies.

“Uncle?” the little girl tugged at his hand.

“Yes?”

“What's that?” she pointed up at him, and for a second Garou forgot what would be standing out.

“Oh... a collar.”

“Why?”

“Why not?”

“It's too big!” She frowned. “It doesn't look cool.”

“You don't think?” Garou slipped a finger underneath to rub his neck. “I guess not.”

“You need one with spikes!” the girl said eagerly. “To match your hair!”

Garou patted her head. “I like the way you think, kid.”

The girl giggled and grabbed onto his arm. Garou tensed his muscles and lifted, and she shrieked as her feet left the ground. “Uncle is strong!”

“Yep.”

Suddenly Garou was surrounded by children demanding to be picked up or swung around. He looked to Mumen for help, and found him shaking his head with a smile.

“I guess traffic school can be over for now.”

It was an hour before they managed to get away. One of the moms called her kids for lunch, and that led the others to remember they were hungry and start drifting off. Mumen led Garou further into the park in search of food and a little quiet.

“Did you have fun?” Mumen asked, smirking.

“Oh... shut up.”

“You're good with kids.”

“It's not on purpose!” Garou rubbed the back of his neck – the parts he could reach, anyway. “Why were there so many kids there? It's a school day.”

“Four-day weekend,” a voice said.

“Lucky brats.” Garou stopped, and Mumen a second later. He turned, to see the kid who'd been watching them earlier.

The kid was standing in the middle of the path, feet planted firmly, eyes still locked on Mumen. “I remember you.”

Mumen smiled. “Do you? I've been to this city several times.”

“I was there. Those sea monsters.”

“Ah...” His chin dipped. “I'm sorry. That you had to go through that.”

The kid folded his arms. “You almost died.”

A cold chill ran up Garou's spine.

“Maybe,” Mumen said. “But that was a choice I made. If my death saved all of you, I would have been happy.”

“Why? It didn't even work. That bald guy saved us in the end!”

Garou blinked. “Bald- Saitama?”

Mumen nodded. “Saitama was the one who defeated the sea king. He put on a show, as if he'd merely given the finishing blow after we other heroes weakened him, but it wasn't true. I didn't find out until afterward or I would have said something.” Mumen smiled at the boy again. “I hope you didn't fall for the act. Caped Baldy just didn't want the other heroes to be badmouthed for failing.”

The kid only glared at him. “I don't get it. I don't get you. Why did you risk your life for- for nobodies like us?”

Ah, now Garou recognized that look. He'd worn it himself often enough. Covering up tears with anger.

“If it helps,” Mumen said, “it wasn't for you. That monster was about to crush Demon Cyborg. I knew I could distract him, and I hoped I could hold him off long enough for help to come. But if I didn't...” He shrugged. “At least I tried.”

The kid shook his head, and Garou saw him discreetly wipe his eyes by pretending to scratch his nose. “So it was for Demon Cyborg, huh?”

“Yes.” Mumen squared his shoulders. “But I would have done it for all of you too, if you were in immediate danger.”

“Why?”

“I'd do it for anybody.”

“But why-”

“Kid.” Garou stepped forward and clapped Mumen on the back, hard. “He's a hero. If you don't get it, then you're not hero material. That's all there is to it.”

Mumen smiled at him, a quiver to his lips that gave away more than Garou was sure he meant to.

The kid sniffed, and wiped his eyes again. “I guess I'm not.”

“Garou...” Mumen said softly. “That's a bit-”

“But I will be!” the kid shouted suddenly. “I'll show you, uncle!”

Garou grinned. “That's the spirit.”

“I'll show everybody!”

“I bet you will.”

“I'll even beat that giant slug in the duck pond!”

Garou opened his mouth to encourage the kid some more, but what came out was, “What giant slug?”

“The one in the duck pond!” The kid pointed down the path. “It ate all the ducks! No one believes me, but I just live across the street. I know what I saw.”

Mumen and Garou exchanged a glance, then blurted, in unison, “Show us.”

The border of the park was walled in, a few roofs visible over the top. It was easy to imagine a young boy, late at night, looking out from his upstairs bedroom to see something horrifying. The pond itself was still and peaceful, no ducks to break the surface, no tell-tale trail of destruction (or slime) to indicate the presence of a bird-eating gastropod. The water was shallow and clear enough to see the muddy bottom.

“You sure it's still here?” Mumen asked, scanning the area the same way Garou had. “How big is it?”

“Bus size,” the kid said, with relish.

“Where could it be hiding?” Mumen wondered aloud. “Not the sewers, we're too close to the ocean. There'd be too much salt.”

Garou walked over to the edge of the pond and peered down.

“I guess there's no reason it would stay here once all the food was gone. I don't think slugs have brains, do they?”

“Not really,” Garou said. Funny, the mud was a sort of mottled color, and there were no plants or anything. And it was odd that the pond was this shallow. Why would ducks come here if there was barely enough water to swim in?

“So it must be operating on instinct alone.”

Like one of those magic eye posters, the shape that Garou was staring at snapped into focus. He took a few steps backward and reached out toward Mumen, flapping his hand.

“Garou?”

“The kid should go,” he said. His voice sounded hollow. “Kid, you should go somewhere safe.”

“Oh? Okay.”

“Not your house. Further than that.”

The kid frowned. “Really?”

Garou hadn't taken his eyes off the pond. “Really.”

“Okay... Be careful!”

“Thank you,” Mumen said, which Garou noted wasn't an agreement. He listened to the kid's footsteps run down the path, and after a minute or so Mumen came up to his side. “What is it? What do you see?”

“Remember how you were wondering where the slug was hiding?”

“Yes?”

Garou pointed at the pond. “Found it.”

Mottled brown, curled in on itself so that it looked like mounds of mud, the slug lay at the bottom of the pond. It was difficult to say for sure, but “bus-sized” seemed to be a good estimate. And worse were little white bits of bone sticking up around the edges of the body.

“How?” Mumen asked quietly, shaken, once he'd confirmed with his eyes that Garou was right. “It- it's a ground slug, isn't it? How is it breathing underwater?”

“Must be part sea slug,” Garou said, matching his tone. “Monsters are more than they appear.”

“Guess I was wrong about the salt bothering it then.” Mumen gulped. “Not that it matters now. Do you think you can...”

“Kill a big slug? Sure. Gonna be messy though.”

“Slugs don't grow back, do they?”

“Not unless it's part earthworm too.” Garou hesitated. “Which might be possible. Monsters.”

“Monsters,” Mumen agreed with a sigh.

Okay, what did he know about slugs? They were pretty harmless at their regular sizes, unless you were a cabbage. All their important bits were in the front half of the body, which meant if Garou could identify where that was he could chop the slug up right now.

A defenseless animal, sleeping in what it thought was a nice safe hole.

Garou took a breath. “Okay. I guess. Just hop on in there.” Two steps forward. “Yep. Lookin' for uh... the mantle part. I guess.”

“Garou?”

“Yep.”

“You okay?”

“Sure, sure.” Two more steps. The surface of the water rippled. “Don't really want to do this, is all.”

“Well, you don't have to.”

Garou stopped. “I do, though. This thing is eating ducks and pets, and- and scaring kids. Even if it's just a big dumb animal, it's not-”

“No, listen.” Garou jerked as Mumen put a hand on his shoulder. “Hey.” Mumen gave him a smile, lopsided and confused. “It's okay. We'll report it to someone else.”

“I can do it!”

“You don't have to.”

“I...” The water was sloshing back and forth, like a bathtub. “Someone's gonna, though.”

“Well... probably. It's not normal for a slug to be that big. And it's hunting living things, it might go after a child next.”

Garou nodded. “I'll do it. It's better if I do it.” He returned Mumen's awkward smile. “Thanks, though. I keep forgetting what it's like when someone cares how I feel.”

“You... you're welcome.”

It was kind of funny the way people's faces twisted when he said stuff like that.

Garou shoved the image of Mumen's concern out of his head, took his stance, and watched the water. The sloshing stopped, a second before the pond bulged like a massive bubble, and a bus-sized slug broke the surface. It looked like a perfectly normal garden slug, brown and gooey, tendrils reaching out from its face to test the air. Their vision wasn't great, they didn't even have eyeballs exactly, but it would be smarter than that earthworm.

What was with invertebrates lately?

The thing stunk, which was odd. Garou didn't think slugs had a strong scent. But it smelled sick, acrid and sharp, and as its body smoothly rippled onto land Garou got the distinct feeling he was being observed. How had it known to wake up now? Why was it heading straight for him?

It must have been able to sense something from Garou, because its massive head slammed down a foot from where he was standing. Garou kicked it in the eyestalk, but instead of retreating the thing wrapped around his ankle and yanked him up into the air. He heard Mumen cry out, a second before the pressure on his leg released, and Garou splashed down into the shallow pond.

Bus height wasn't that bad, Garou would have been fine even without the water landing. If anything it only disoriented him, and his hands flailed out and smacked into something that cracked beneath his knuckles. When he managed to find his bearings and stand up, he shook the thing off, only registering as it fell to pieces that it had been a human skull.

The slug was going after Mumen, who was – intelligently – merely running in circles to keep it nearby. The slime trail it left didn't smell like much of anything, but it was a hazard, and Garou wasn't surprised when Mumen slipped. Luckily Garou was already moving, and he didn't need to touch the ground more than once to get airborne.

Realizing only a second before he hit that the disgusting smell from the slug's body was stomach acid, Garou punched his way through the center of its body. He could feel the painful tingle of its insides on his bare skin, eating away at him molecule by molecule, but he ignored it for now and lashed out. A few quick motions, back in practice from the weeks of community service, and Garou tore a spiral shape lengthwise through the giant slug's front half.

Then he immediately ran for the pond again to rinse off.

“Eurgh!” he heard, behind him. Not until he had scrubbed the worst of the mess of his face did he look back, and saw what had once been Mumen Rider now looking more like a human-shaped blob monster. It took a minute for him to stumble across the grass to join Garou in attempting to clean off, but the slug slime was clingier than the gut juice.

Garou was covered in it too, but ironically the acid helped break it up, and Mumen appeared to have been caught in the blast wave of Garou's finishing move. Once his hands were clear Garou reached over and tried to help wipe the slime off, only to get his hand re-gooed.

“This isn't gonna work, huh?” Garou said, wiping his hand on his shirt ineffectually.

“It's not coming off,” Mumen said, mournfully. “We need soap, like- like they use to wash penguins.”

“Hell, we need lye.”

Mumen pulled his goggles down and let them hang around his neck. There was an almost perfect imprint of them left in the fine layer of yellowish slime on his cheeks and nose. “I guess we'll have to go straight back to my place after we report this. Can't exactly leave this mess without warning someone.”

“Yeah... it's worse than that.” Garou stared down into the water. It was churned up now, and had a layer of grease on the top, but he could still see white bits in the sand that he knew were bones. “The slug already upgraded to humans.”

After a pause Mumen asked, quietly, “Are you sure?”

“I saw a skull. I broke a skull, but I'm trying not to think about that.”

“Okay,” Mumen said, “We'll report it and hopefully they can identify the remains. Although... I'm not sure I want to risk touching my cell phone right now. If this stuff gets into the buttons it might never be usable.”

“Let me,” Garou said. “Which pocket?”

“Pouch on my belt.”

They went through the awkward experience of Garou holding Mumen's phone while Mumen spoke into it. He felt like he should chime in, given he was a physical part of the conversation, but the less he talked to people at the Association the better.

“Okay. Ugh.” Mumen attempted to scrape a glob off his hand, gave up, and spent several seconds peeling off a glove. “Okay. That's something. Let's go.”

“You're a real mess, man.”

“I'm aware.” Mumen winced. “You're not much better, you know.”

“True.” Garou looked down at himself. He was afraid to touch his hair, and he didn't want to ask how bad it was. “You think they'll let us on the train like this?”

“Uh...” From the way Mumen's eyes went wide behind his glasses, he didn't. “Oh dear.”

“Yeah.”

“I guess... we could go buy dish soap? Or. Hm.”

“Maybe abuse the public restroom's soap dispensers?”

Suddenly his face lit up. “Now there's an idea.”

“Seriously? I don't think hand soap's gonna cut it.”

“No, no, I know a place.”

“You do?”

Mumen nodded, though the confident look faltered. “Um... Well... It's going to seem a bit odd.”

“This whole thing is odd, man, if you know where to get a chemical shower I'm down.”

His mouth scrunched up until he looked like a muppet. “Okay. Okay. Just...” Mumen held up a finger. Garou waited. The finger dropped. “Do you remember how I told you my father was a thief?”

“Of course I do.”

“It's more complicated than that.”

“It... is it?” What could that have to do with washing off slug slime?

Mumen gave a tired-sounding laugh. “You'll figure it out. Let's go.”

They left the park the way they'd come, retrieving Mumen's bike (he didn't make Garou put on a helmet this time) and heading off in the general direction of the ocean. Garou wondered about that, but they were nowhere near the nice public parts. The buildings were a mix of old houses and cheap hotels and warehouses for shipping, and finally they stopped at a large building that signage identified as a bathhouse.

It was bigger than any Garou had ever been to, but the style was strictly traditional. Some of the details struck him as funny. Like the stickers along the doorframe, or the lack of any other signs, or the unusually nice shoes sitting the genkan. Where there should have been the female entrance, Garou saw a little plaque identifying it as Laundry. Was there no ladies bath?

Was this a hookup type bathhouse?

“Wait...” Garou said, hanging back. All of a sudden his heart was racing. He needed an excuse. “Will they let me in with this?” He pointed at his collar.

“Trust me,” Mumen said, something heavy in his voice. “They've seen worse.”

The counter was staffed by a middle-aged woman with salt-and-pepper hair, who raised her eyebrows like two heroes covered in slime were no more than a couple of muddy children. “Two?”

“Yes please,” Mumen said. “And laundry.”

Maybe the slime was more noticeable than Mumen's costume, because it wasn't until he was handing over cash that the woman hesitated. “Have you... been here before, Hero-san?”

“I have, ma'am. With family.”

That seemed to satisfy her, and she took the money and passed over couple of keys and a bottle of laundry soap with a bright orange label that read Grease-X.

She didn't so much as blink at Garou, which made Garou feel curiously inadequate.

The laundry room had a bunch of washers, not even coin-operated, as well as seats and vending machines, and a rack in the corner with robes and towels. Garou whistled as he took it all in.

“This is plush. What's the deal? It's like they actually expect people to need to wash the clothes they're wearing.”

“They do,” Mumen said, and there was that heavy tone again. He'd started stripping, no shame, no hesitation, so Garou followed his lead.

“I guess it sounds nice. Come to have a bath, put on freshly cleaned clothes.”

“Mm.”

Garou was sure he was missing something, but Mumen had just taken his pants off and suddenly every other thought flew out of his head.

Because damn. All that biking paid off. He was wearing tight boxer briefs, and a jockstrap underneath, peeking out over the waistband. None of it hid the impossibly sculpted cheeks, or the thick thighs and the muscle definition beneath his skin. Mumen started to turn, and Garou managed to finish yanking off his shirt before he was caught staring, cursing himself for being so easily distracted.

How long had it been since he got off? He practically rubbed himself raw in solitary, but since moving into the halfway house he hadn't really had the opportunity. He never had the room to himself, and the bathroom was always in demand so he didn't have much time. Shit, had he even done it once?

It must have been too long, if Mumen Rider was making his dick twitch. Granted he was pretty cute in the face, and that ass looked so tight it would feel like-

Stop, stop, bad train of thought.

Garou tossed his shirt into a washer, followed it with pants and socks, and by the time he looked back Mumen was safely wrapped in a bathrobe. Garou grabbed one too, leaving it untied, and took the offered bottle of laundry soap, hoping his face wasn't red.

“I'd use the normal amount,” Mumen said. “I've tried that stuff before, it works for chain grease so I'm sure it can handle this.”

“Chain grease?” Garou asked, pouring out a capful. It smelled like oranges.

“For my bikes.”

“Oh yeah, right right.”

“Didn't you take care of your own bike as a kid?”

“Didn't have one.”

“Oh.”

He read the labels on the machine and set it to “Heavy Duty,” and the machine began sloshing as soon as he shut the lid. Nothing to do now but wait.

Mumen was staring at him when Garou turned, which he felt flattered by until Mumen said, “Do you... know how to ride a bike?”

“Yes!” Garou snapped. “Like it's hard?”

“Did anyone ever teach you?”

“I can ride a bike,” Garou said, well aware that wasn't an answer. “Are we going into the bath or what?”

“I'm not judging, I'm just-”

“Oh my god.”

Garou strode past him, deliberately bumping his shoulder, to the doorway into the changing room. It looked like a gym locker room, explaining the keys, and he held his hand out for one of them once Mumen followed him in.

“Not much to lock up,” Mumen said. It was true; he had his phone and helmet and belt, and Garou had nothing but his underwear. He hadn't bothered to bring his phone, probably a good thing considering he'd been tossed into that pond. It wasn't like it would take two lockers. It would barely take more than one shelf.

Garou had never been self-conscious, not since he'd been blessed by the puberty gods, but for some reason he felt awkward about getting naked next to Mumen. Maybe they weren't close enough yet, but too close to be strangers. Maybe because he'd been blatantly ogling him a minute ago. But the idea of sticking his boxers in the same locker as Mumen's was... too much. Not happening. So he opened a different locker, shrugged off his robe, and dropped his shorts.

“Ready?” Mumen asked.

He was walking away. Which was good, and bad, because now Garou had nothing in between his eyes and Mumen's ass. Shit, something like that shouldn't exist. At least not attached to goody-two shoes nerds who-

“Garou?”

Garou forced his eyes up, and found Mumen squinting at him. He'd taken off his glasses too.

“Can you see?” Garou asked.

“Not at all,” Mumen admitted. “I can find my way around by color, but I might need you to be my eyes if someone talks to us.”

“Uh-huh,” Garou said, distantly, because two pieces of information had just slotted into his brain.

One; Mumen could not see him right now. He couldn't see anything, not even where Garou was looking.

And two; Mumen was facing him. Naked.

Garou's eyes locked onto his crotch so fast it would be embarrassing if Garou could think about anything else right now.

It wasn't like he'd never seen another man nude. It wasn't like he'd never seen porn. But this was different, because... some reason... He'd figure out why later. Right now he was enjoying himself.

“Garou?” Mumen said again. He took a step forward. Garou suppressed a groan. “What is it?”

“Never seen you like this before,” Garou found himself saying, surprised that he sounded relatively normal. “Your eyes, I mean.”

Nice cover, idiot. Just don't try to guess what color they are.

Mumen gave an awkward chuckle. “I hate contacts.”

“Yeah?” Garou asked.

It was a decent length, and thick. Thicker than his, even soft. Was he a grower? Would Garou ever get opportunity to find out?

“I just can't touch my eye. I've tried, I can't do it. I know it's silly.”

“S'not silly,” Garou said.

Shit, shit, he was getting hard. Dammit why couldn't he look away?

“I, uh.” He choked on spit and made some kind of horrible gurgle as he tried to clear it out and speak at the same time. “Gkh. I'm. Gonna... bathroom. Before the bath. So.”

“Oh, okay,” Mumen said, turning away. “I'll go on ahead then.”

“Mm-hmm.”

Thank every single god that existed that Mumen bought it. He couldn't stop staring until Mumen was out of sight, and by then the problem was serious. Garou pulled his robe on again and tied it shut, and sat down on the bench before his knees gave out from the bloodrush to his groin.

Why was this happening? Okay it had been a while, and okay Mumen was not bad-looking, but was Garou really so pathetic that he was about to jerk off to the thought of...

Of...

Of the guy who'd stuck up for him against the entire Hero Association.

The guy who took time out of his work just to keep Garou company.

The guy who kept buying him meals, and told him he didn't have to kill that slug, and took a punch for him when he didn't even know his name.

One of the tiny handful of people that had been unreservedly kind to him in his entire life.

Shit, Garou thought as he reached inside his robe. I'm in love with him.

His fingers closed around his rock-hard dick, and he couldn't hold back a breathy sigh. It really had been too long. He kept his eyes open so he could watch for witnesses, but he was mostly out of the line-of-sight from the doorways and he still had his robe on so he could cover up quickly. It wasn't like this was gonna take long.

God that felt good. He'd only been hard a couple minutes and Garou was already aching. He bit his lip, the pain helping him focus. Images flashed through his head. Mumen's ass, Mumen's cock, Mumen's mouth, that stupid dorky smile, his eyes (brown, they were dark brown, how had Garou remembered that after one glance?), the soft way Mumen looked at him sometimes.

More, more.

His hips jerked up into his grip.

That's good, don't stop.

He twisted his hand around his dick, feeling the slight chafe of skin-on-skin. This was gonna hurt if he didn't come soon. Luckily he felt dampness as his swiped his thumb over the tip, felt himself shudder with pleasure, felt his toes curling on the tile.

Mumen's hands, Mumen's lips, Mumen's voice saying his name.

“Fuck,” Garou growled as he came. It spilled over his fingers and into the robe, and his eyes squeezed shut as he trembled with release. When it was over he could do nothing but sit there for a few seconds and recover.

Dammit he needed that.

Dammit, now there was evidence.

Garou popped back into the laundry room and started a new load. “Light” this time, and only a quarter of the soap required. Just enough to cover his tracks. He waited a couple minutes more to be sure his face wasn't red, and finally headed in to the bath.

It was big. Garou should have known as much, since the entire bath area was for men, but it still sort of threw off his sense of scale to see so much space. And it wasn't empty either. Mumen wasn't the only one scrubbing away, and there were several men soaking in the baths. Retroactive fear made Garou shiver. If anybody had walked into the locker room...

He noticed a couple doors along the walls, reminding him of his worry that this place was a gay hookup spot. And that was kind of worse, because if it was true it meant Garou had just risked getting caught for no reason. If he'd played his cards right he could have gotten someone else's hand to work off his frustration.

Then again, it was all so neat and classy. And big. It was 2019, were gay dudes still hooking up in bathhouses? Just use a love hotel like anyone else. But why was it so weird, then?

As Garou walked over to join Mumen, he had the thought that there was more color in this room than there ought to be.

He sat down at the taps next to Mumen, said, “It's me,” and reached for the shampoo. He wasn't sure where the bottle had come from. Maybe there was a shelf of them in the locker room and Garou hadn't noticed because he couldn't see anything but Mumen. Now, with his head clear, he was noticing a lot of things. Like another bottle of liquid soap and a scrubbing brush.

“What am I missing?” Garou asked, pouring shampoo into his hand. “Something's weird here and I'm not getting it.”

“That's a good thing,” Mumen said. It was somewhat encouraging that he still looked attractive, hunched over on a stool, attempting to de-goo himself. It proved Garou wasn't seeing him through lust-goggles, he really was a handsome dude.

“Come on. I have the pieces, but I need you to put 'em together for me.”

Voice low, Mumen said. “Look at the other patrons.”

He did, trying to be subtle. They were mostly older than Mumen, but a couple of them not by much. Other than that they didn't seem to have much in common. The younger ones had bleached hair, the slightly older ones were weather-worn and grizzled, and the oldest of them had a tattoo of koi fish running up his arms and chest.

Tattoos. It wasn't just the oldest guy, though his were the most obvious. Garou saw lines and colors peeking over shoulders and around ribs. Aside from Mumen and himself, every other man in this huge bathhouse had tattoos.

“Mumen,” Garou said quietly. “Are we surrounded by yakuza right now?”

“Yes,” Mumen said, just as quiet.

“Was that... the intention?”

“Yes it was.”

The shampoo had been sitting in his hand long enough that it threatened to slide down his wrist, so Garou quickly spritzed his head with the nozzle and started washing. Just as he'd feared, he felt globs of slime stuck in the strands.

“You coulda warned me,” he hissed.

“Does it matter? They let us in, covered in slime, you with that tracking collar... A normal bathhouse wouldn't, and we wouldn't have been able to wash our clothes.”

“I guess, but-” Garou peeled a blob off his ear. “Still woulda been nice to know.”

“I know.” Mumen ducked his head, looked like embarrassment rather than an attempt to wash his neck. “I didn't know what to say. I was hoping you wouldn't notice.”

“Because now I'm gonna ask how the hell you know about a place like this? Why you came here with your fam-”

Garou sucked in a breath and clamped his jaw shut before he could blurt out what he'd just realized.

“Yes,” Mumen said, dryly. “Because of that.”

He didn't say anything for a while. Too many words were lined up to get out, and they couldn't organize themselves enough to form sentences.

“Who?” Garou asked, after a moment.

“Father. Uncles. Grandfather. One cousin.”

“Everybody?” he hissed.

“More or less.”

“And you're the white sheep?”

“You're giving me too much credit,” Mumen said, a little forlorn. “My grandmother – my mom's mom – raised me, and she had nothing to do with the business. My paternal grandfather has tried to get me involved with things now that I'm an adult, but when I was young we weren't close.”

“But you've been to places like this?”

“My father took me, and one of my uncles a few times. I'm closer to him and his son than the rest of the family, but it's still mostly a twice-a-year thing.” Under his breath, Mumen added, “Less, now.”

“Why now?” Garou asked.

“You're not going to let me drop this, are you?”

“Absolutely not.”

“He's in jail,” Mumen admitted. “He will be for a long time. Grandfather pulled what strings he could, I'm sure, but it doesn't look good.”

“Talking about pulling strings like it's not- How did you end up a pro Hero?”

“I told you, I'm not a white sheep. I was never in the business. Before the Hero Association started I stocked groceries.” Mumen shrugged, taking the scrubbing brush to a stubborn patch of slime on his neck. “I always wanted to be a hero. Ever since I was a kid, I wished it was a real job I could do. I've got hobbies and things, but I'd rather be broke and risking my life than comfortable and not caring.”

Garou was starting to feel dizzy. “This is the weirdest conversation I have ever had, and that's saying a lot.”

Mumen laughed, though it was harsh. “You started it.”

“Uh...” Shit. This was a sore spot, wasn't it? And here Garou was acting like it was some secret origin story instead of Mumen's actual life. “Sorry.”

“I knew you'd have questions,” Mumen said. “I knew what I was getting myself into.”

“Just like becoming a hero, huh?”

“Just like.” His voice softened a little.

“I guess I should thank your grandma then, huh?”

Mumen turned his head toward Garou, though his unfocused eyes gave away how little he was seeing. “What?”

“For raising you to be so goddamn nice.”

Mumen smiled. Practically beamed. Damn him. “You could. Next obon.”

“Oh...” People went home for the bon festival, but if he was specifying that date in particular, it must mean visiting somewhere more... final. “Sorry.”

“Don't be. I meant it.”

“Oh.” He sounded serious. He looked serious. Mumen Rider was, while both of them were naked, inviting him to visit the grave of the woman who'd raised him. That was... something. “I'm down.”

“Okay,” Mumen said. Apparently he'd realized how it sounded, because his ears were bright red beneath the suds. “If you wanted to, I mean- I didn't mean-”

“I'm down,” Garou said again.

“Okay.”

Holy shit, holy shit, Garou wasn't reading too much into this, was he? Had Mumen really just implied-

No, no, calm the fuck down. You only just realized you like him (love him, the voice in his head corrected), you can't jump the gun. Stay calm. Stay fucking calm.

“Wait, no,” Garou blurted.

Mumen froze in the act of setting down the brush. “I'm sorry.”

“What? I mean your back. It's still covered in goop.”

“Oh!” Mumen rinsed off the brush, applied some more soap, and got back to work. Once Garou had finished with his hair he checked again.

“Still pretty bad. D'you want me to do it?”

Mumen hesitated long enough that Garou's stomach started to churn. This was supposed to be a normal thing. A little too close for coworkers, but Mumen had just invited Garou to visit his family for obon. You didn't get much closer!

But it had been impulsive, that was obvious. Did Mumen want to walk it back? Did he not want Garou to touch him?

“Okay,” Mumen said, a little too firmly. It had been a choice he had to think about, and that was not exactly encouraging. “Thank you.”

Armed with cleaning tools, Garou attacked Mumen's back and neck. It was amazing so much of the slime had managed to slip through his hero costume, but there was a fine layer of it stuck to his skin. Garou was less optimistic about the laundry detergent's ability to clean their clothes now.

Even with the slime, and the suds, and the feeling-kind-of-shitty-right-now, touching Mumen's bare skin was distracting. It was warm, especially so thanks to the hot water. And he had a lot of scars. Like, a lot. Mostly small, mostly faded, but all over his back and arms. Were any of them from Garou?

Garou's fingers brushed Mumen's ribs as he scrubbed, and Mumen shuddered. Garou wanted to believe he was ticklish, not on edge, but he didn't dare test it.

“Looks good,” Garou said, at last. It hadn't really taken that long, it was just a matter of getting the spots Mumen couldn't easily reach, but it felt like every second was a minefield.

“Thank you,” Mumen said. “Your turn.”

“Oh, uh.” Garou's face felt treacherously warm. “You don't have to.”

“I do, I think. You had less on your body, but you missed a lot in your hair.”

He'd gotten distracted in the middle of washing it, but it wasn't like he was going to pass up the chance to have Mumen rub his scalp.

“All right then.”

Garou stole another peek at Mumen's junk while they switched places. It wasn't hurting anybody, right? Mumen couldn't tell where he was looking. And being even closer now... He wanted these images seared into his brain for as long as he could.

He wanted to enjoy them until this inevitably turned into heartbreak.

And then Mumen's fingers were in his hair and Garou's brain was gone. Holy shit. It was almost better than jerking off a minute ago. It was better, because this was Mumen touching him. The tension drained out of Garou so fast he almost fell over, and his breath came out in a sigh.

“You like that?” Mumen asked, his voice light, but the words were enough to send Garou's heartrate spiking.

“Mmn.”

“You must have a sensitive scalp.” Mumen laughed. “You really are like a big puppy.”

“Nuh-uh,” Garou grumbled, but he couldn't argue when Mumen's fingernails trailed above his ears and drew out a groan.

Mumen's breath caught behind him, and the nails pulled away. Soon all he felt was businesslike scrubbing. Though that was still pretty damn good. And ended way too soon.

“Rinse,” Mumen ordered, and Garou was filling up the bucket before he'd finished processing the word. He let Mumen dump it over his head, and then those clever fingers threaded through his hair to check for slime. “I think that's good. I don't see anything.”

“Hmm.”

Mumen papped his shoulder. “You go ahead and soak, I'm going to the bathroom.”

“Mm.”

Garou leaned back and stretched as he heard Mumen walking away. His muscles were already loose, he felt so relaxed he might pass out in the bath at this rate. But it wasn't like he could skip it; not and miss the opportunity to look at a wet naked Mumen some more. He did a last rinse to make sure he was soap-free and headed over.

There were technically two; one bigger and less intense, one smaller and so hot it had warning signs. Garou's inner tough guy demanded he pick the hotter one, but he ignored it for Mumen's sake. He picked a spot not too close to any of the graying (and heavily inked) men already soaking, and settled in.

Garou closed his eyes and let the heat suck away the last threads of tension he'd been carrying. A guy could get used to this...

“I gotta know.”

It was the young guys Garou had noticed earlier, the ones with fashionably-dyed hair and the least tattoos. One of them – the sempai judging by his confidence – sat down on the edge of the bath next to Garou.

“What is that?” he asked, pointing at his throat. “If it's a fashion accessory you shoulda left it in the locker.”

“It's not,” Garou said, tightly. And, since these guys would probably sympathize, he told the truth. “Tracking thing. Like an ankle monitor but on my neck.”

“That's some bullshit,” the guy nodded, not remotely phased. “What'd you do to get a thing like that?”

Garou grinned. “Oh I'm innocent, of course. I'm a victim of the system.”

The guy laughed, and his partner did too. “So you here with somebody?”

“Yeah.” Checking his credentials? “A friend.”

“Just a friend?”

“Just a friend.” Was he being hit on or recruited?

The guy slid into the water, his partner following. “You know... it can be hard to find work when you've got a record.”

Ah. Recruited. “I know.” Garou tapped his collar. “I'm kind of limited in what I can do right now though.”

“Hey, there's all kinds of stuff a guy like you,” his eyes drifted over Garou's arms, “could do to make a few bucks here and there.”

It was tempting. He could use money, and it wasn't like Garou had ever had much respect for the rule of law. But he wanted to be a hero. He wasn't born into it like Mumen, if he got into this life there'd be no getting out.

“Sorry,” Garou said. An idea occurred. “My friend's got dibs.”

“Who's he with?”

“I'm not sure actually, he hasn't told me yet.”

The two guys exchanged a glance. One of them opened his mouth to speak, but before he got anything out Garou heard padding footsteps behind him, and Mumen say, “Garou?”

“Here I am.” Garou turned and waved. Mumen's face brightened at the motion.

“I thought so, but it's hard to tell. If it wasn't for your hair I never would have found you.”

Mumen climbed into the bath with a wince at the heat. Garou ignored the silent communication happening between the two young goons in favor of watching Mumen's body slide beneath the water.

“Hi,” Mumen said in the goons' direction. “Sorry, I'm completely blind without my glasses.”

“He is,” Garou confirmed.

The kohai hissed something at his superior. The guy's eyes widened slightly, and he suddenly leaned away from Garou.

“Shizaru-sama?”

Mumen winced, harder than he had a second ago. The bathwater hurt less than being sama-ed by yakuza goons, apparently. “Yes, hi,” he said. “Please don't call me that here, though. In front of Grandfather I understand completely, but...”

“Right right, right.” The goons started scooting away. “Sorry to interrupt, Shizaru-san.”

“It's fine,” he waved casually. He didn't say anything until he and Garou were more-or-less alone again, and even then it was just a long sigh.

“So... Shizaru?”

“Mumen,” Mumen said. “Please.”

“Good to know. Mumen.”

The smile was so soft and fond that Garou was sure he was going to be walking on air for the next week.

It was weird getting out of the bathhouse and remembering it was still early. They hadn't had lunch yet, and even Garou got a little dizzy from the combo of hot water and low blood sugar. They had snacks from the vending machine while they waited for their clothes to dry, and looked at hero videos on Mumen's phone.

“Look,” he said, pointing with his pinky. “There's the worm from last week.”

“They spelled your name wrong.”

“It happens. Oh, this is new.”

He clicked on a twitter link with the caption “my sister seriously bothered this dude for like twenty minutes,” and a cry-laughing emoji. A small girl with pigtails and a bunny backpack was standing near some yellow caution tape as a man in a cleaning jumpsuit spread blue chemical salts over grass. When the camera panned, Garou saw the pond he'd been tossed in only a couple hours ago, and some more people carefully removing things and putting them in bags.

“I saw? A slug one time? That was yellow.”

“Uh-huh,” the man said.

“This one is brown.”

“Yep.”

“It's big!” She started to sneak toward the tape, and a voice offscreen called her back. “Is it a banana slug?”

“Uh, I don't think so.”

“Is it a... grapefruit slug?”

“Uh.”

“Is it a... um... coconut slug?”

“I don't think it's a fruit, miss.”

“Is a coconut a fruit?”

“I- I don't know.”

The video ended there, and Garou asked, “Is a coconut a fruit?”

“It is!” Mumen said. “It's the same kind as a peach, you know, with a hard covering around the seed.”

“Huh. You know a lot, don't you.”

“I...” Mumen flushed. “I've always been curious, I guess. When I wonder about something, I look it up.”

“That's good. Isn't it?”

“I guess.” He gave Garou another one of those fond smiles. “Most people would just call me a nerd.”

“I didn't say you're not a nerd.”

They had a late lunch, and by then the day was spent. Mumen dropped Garou off at the halfway house as the sun was setting.

“Thanks,” he said.

Garou blinked, and felt his head tilt. “For what?”

“For today. For... letting things drop when I wanted to drop them.” He looked so nervous, hopeful and vulnerable.

Garou tried to think of something to say that wasn't a dead giveaway. “We're friends. Right?”

“Yeah. I hope so, anyway.”

“Then we are.” Garou cracked a smile. “I'm up to three! Not so bad.”

Mumen leaned forward, like he wanted to climb off his bike but reconsidered. “I- I'll see you next week, Garou.”

“Yep.”

“Have a good night.”

“You too.”

I love you, you big nerd.

Upstairs, Garou found that as always his roommate was parked in the room, depriving Garou of a chance to sort through his feelings with any kind of privacy. He lay on his bed as he went through his missed messages, ignoring the roommate's passive-aggressive sighing and glaring. Some new hero was going to be chaperoning him tomorrow, a guy with the improbable name of Carrot Chop, and Tareo had sent him a picture of a really big snail.

Garou replied to that with a thumbs up, and then got up to go and spend way too long in the bathroom. Fuck everybody, he needed this.

The next morning Garou had almost forgotten about the carrot guy. Turned out realizing you were in love with someone didn't get less scary after a good night's sleep. Much worse, in fact. Running out of hot water in the shower hadn't helped either, and so when he opened the door to a head of red hair and a familiar face his knee-jerk reaction was to punch it.

Surprisingly, Charanko dodged.

“Dammit!” he exclaimed. “I knew you were gonna do that!”

“Why the hell are you here?”

“It's my job!” Charanko slid his headband down over his eyes, and Garou discovered it was a Ninja Turtle-style mask. “I'm a hero now!”

“You're fucking with me.”

“I'm not!”

“You're Carrot Chop?” Garou stopped, and grinned at the look on Charanko's face. “Didn't pick that one out yourself, did you.”

“You know I didn't.”

“Okay then.” Garou stepped outside, shutting the door behind him. “What are we doing?”

Charanko shrugged. “I dunno, you've probably got more experience with this than I do. I've only been doing it for a month.”

“You...” Garou felt his head tilt. “You're asking me?”

“Yeah. What do you think we should do?”

To his horror, Garou's throat had gotten tight. Not even Mumen Rider had let him decide what they'd do for his community service. “Uh... there's something going on with invertebrates lately. I got a picture of a snail that looks weird. I think we should check it out.”

“Okay, sounds good. Lead on, sempai.”

Garou raised his chin and tried not to beam like a moron. “Follow me.”

[next]

[ororowrites]

T’Challa Fic: Keisha’s Way (ch. 1)

Synopsis

Taglist: @heyauntieeee @babygirlofwakanda @theunsweetenedtruth @sisterwifeudaku @90sinspiredgirl @airis-paris14  @afraiddreamingandloving @iliketowrite1996

This is my taglist from July (when I posted the synopsis) If you want to be added, let me know. :) 

1996

“Damn baby, ride that shit,” the middle aged man moaned, under Keisha’s slow grind. Her hips swiveled in a circle as she tried to ride the dollars out of Dr. Curtis Nelson’s dick. The doctor had promised her a semester of school paid in full and she wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity. Hoping her flexibility and hard work got her a little extra cash to put on her books, Keisha was putting her best moves on the doctor. “Shit, girl!” Curtis pushed his hips forward, meeting Keisha’s slow bounce when she switched up her technique. 

Her thighs were on fire but she needed the nut and Dr. Nelson’s cash. The doctor’s hands gripped Keisha’s ass, the round flesh slapping against his palms. 

“Fuck, I’m about to cum,” Keisha cried, leaning forward to take the sting out of her legs. Shifting her weight, Keisha placed her hands on Curtis’s chest. The student’s hips bucked violently when she neared her climax. 

Curtis wasn’t ready for his bed partner to unravel, yet. He flipped them over and settled between Keisha’s chocolate thighs. “Baby, I’m about to have you calling me daddy,” he teased, making the young woman cringe. All she wanted was the dick and money, mostly the money. The classes and books wouldn’t pay for themselves and being a graduate student made it hard to get scholarships and financial aid. 

Keisha smiled uncomfortably when Curtis’s head disappeared between her thighs and his eyes stayed set on hers. Did he have to stare at her while he ate her out? Yes, she needed the money and to knock off her edge, but Keisha wanted this sex session to end as soon as possible. Watching his salt and pepper head bob up and down between her legs was an erotic site that made her warmth a bit wetter. It was the dangerous and forbidden fruit aspect that excited her. Dr. Nelson was her father’s good friend and colleague. 

Keisha had been sleeping with him for the past two years. The man wasn’t the best in bed but his head game was something to write home about for sure. Curtis’s lips smacked as his tongue explored the depths of Keisha’s folds. “Ohhhh, right there,” she moaned, spreading her thighs and pushing Curtis’s head deeper. As her hips rolled forward, the doctor flicked his tongue against her sensitive nub, sending vibrations down her legs and making her toes curl. 

His gaze stayed stuck on his sugar baby as he ate her like a Sunday dinner. Seeing his tongue make slow circles around her clit, pushed Keisha closer to her climax. She kept her hazel eyes on Curtis as he asked, “You tryna cum or what,” inserting two fingers inside her throbbing pussy, Keisha’s hips shot up, offering an endless amount of juices to quench his thirst. 

“Shiiiiii- why’d you stop,” Keisha moaned, trying to continue fucking Curtis’s fingers through her orgasm. But before she could finish her statement, she was on her stomach with her ass in the air. 

“You gotta finish me off before you go,” he answered, shoving his piece back inside Keisha’s already quivering tightness. “Damn, your shit is still as tight as I can remember. Throw that ass back.” The doctor roughly stroked her, his balls colliding with Keisha’s ass with a crisp slap.She moved her hips back against his, the friction of their rough sex making her kitty drip. It didn’t take much to make Curtis cum. He was shouting her name and spilling into the condom two minutes later before pulling out and falling on the bed. Keisha was disappointed that she didn’t get her nut. She stuck two fingers inside herself and came at the beat of her own drum.

“Whew, you’re going to kill me, Keke. I’ll deposit that $10, 500 into your account on Monday before you leave,” he murmured, half asleep already. Good, she didn’t have to worry about the rest and would have extra money to put on the next semester. 

“Okay, I already alerted the bank about the transfer so we shouldn’t have any problems this time. Just don’t do the deposit all at once,” Keisha grabbed her sweatshirt and jeans. 

“Deal. Thanks for a good time, I’ll page you,” Dr. Nelson said, giving Keisha her cue to leave. Since his wife passed away, Curtis was very generous with money, so another sugar baby was probably on the way to take Keisha’s place. 

“Thanks, doc,” Keisha gathered her shoes and bags, leaving Curtis there to attempt to get it up for the next tenderoni.  

Packing to move across the country was a task bigger than Keisha wanted to deal with at the moment. Her baby sister was sitting on her bed, blasting Ice Cube through her Walkman. 

“Naomi, turn that shit down before you bust an ear drum,” she snapped, watching Naomi bop her head, letting the lyrics roll off her tongue. 

Keisha shook her head. The girl wanted to be from Compton so badly while they were born and raised in Orange County. You couldn’t tell Naomi that and she swore dating gang bangers meant she was hood. 

“Aye! Turn that down or get out,” Keisha yelled, this time pulling one of the cans from Naomi’s ears. “I’m trying to concentrate.” 

“What!... oh, sorry,” Naomi replied, snatching the headphones off and throwing them to the bed. “So do I get your room when you leave?” 

“No, leave my shit alone,” Keisha warned, throwing a drawer of underwear onto the bed. A pink sex toy fell out with the array of panties but luckily, Naomi missed it. 

“You are such a bitch, but I’ll miss you,” the kid sister teased. “Rashad going too?” Rashad was Keisha’s ex of two years that seemed to pop up every now and then. Most of the time it was when they both needed an itch scratched. 

“Rashad is already down there, sadly. Hopefully that nigga stays down by the Morehouse campus because he’s trouble.” Keisha admitted, her lady parts tingling thinking about their last run in. Dude fucked her so hard, she couldn’t sit right for two days. 

“Mmmhm, you’ll be fucking him as soon as you land. Hoe ass,” Naomi scoffed, shaking her head at her sister’s antics. 

“I’m not a hoe. Rashad is my first and only one I mess with occasionally. Now go find something to do other than be in my business,” Keisha lied. Sure, Rashad was her first but no one knew about her situation with Dr. I can only keep it up for five seconds Nelson. Not even her sister and they told each other everything. 

“If you say so. I’ll leave you to your packing. Make sure you leave those black pumps here for me. Those are the only heels I can walk in.” 

Keisha’s head popped up from her suitcase. “I knew your ass was snooping around in my closet.” Naomi dodged a shoe that Keisha had chucked her way. It hit the wall with a thud.

3 days later 

Packed and ready, Keisha was ready to take on ATL. Leaving California behind wasn’t that difficult even though she hated leaving her sister behind. Naomi was her best friend and she wanted her to come with her but Naomi was too busy chasing some knucklehead boy. Their mother, Gina Lane, was an interesting character. Motherly instincts didn’t come naturally to her though she was a Pediatrician. Somehow her own children, especially Keisha, didn’t get the same love that her patients did. Keisha hated her father and that was not in her character to hate anyone. But Kevin didn’t even deserve the title of father when it came to Keisha. Naomi on the other hand was his pride and joy. This hatred put an extra strain on Keisha’s relationship with her mother. 

“Keke, it’s almost 7. We need to leave,” Gina yelled from the foyer. She had patients later that morning. 

“On my way, ma,” the brown skinned beauty took one last glance at her room before turning off the light. She threw the letter she wrote for Naomi on the 20 year old’s bed and jogged down the spiral staircase. “Is Kevin already at work,” Keisha questioned, knowing her father didn’t even come home the night before. 

Gina’s face fell instantly, “Um, yeah. He sends his love.” 

“Hmm,” Keisha hummed, grabbing her bag of mixtapes. “Okay.” 

The ride to the airport was silent. Neither of them had a thing to say and Keisha wasn’t about to force it. Moving to Atlanta was probably the best decision for her and the family. That way, Gina and Kevin weren’t forced to act like they loved their eldest child. Once they reached Gate C, Gina placed a quick peck on her daughter’s cheek, mumbled an “I love you” and turned to leave. Life was cold like that, making Keisha’s heart even colder. 

The flight from California to Georgia took 4 hours and the young woman couldn’t be happier when she finally landed. It took about another 2 hours to get her luggage and arrive at her off campus studio apartment. It resembled a dorm with the dark brown bookshelf, coffee table, desk and lofted bed. Keisha would make the space her own once she got settled in and a part time job. Her savings account was about to be wiped clean unless Curtis was feeling generous. So far, he had only paid for her education which was all she asked for.

Keisha wasn’t a gold digger, but she had big dreams. Her family was capable of helping her but she was left to do it herself. That meant getting it done by any means necessary. 

Before she did any unpacking, Keisha headed down to the neighborhood coffee shop for a energy boost. Blasting “If Your Girl Only Knew” on her Walkman, Keisha walked the few blocks quicker than she thought would. The smell of coffee beans and fresh muffins warmed her senses as she neared the corner cafe. 

“What may I get you ma’am,” the young barista asked. 

“Um, I’ll take a...I’ll get a banana nut muffin and small black coffee with a little cream?” 

“That will be $2.56.” 

Keisha cussed under her breath, she forgot to grab her wallet out of her suitcase. “Shit.” 

“I’ll cover that,” a male’s voice crooned and then a $5.00 bill invaded her space. 

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that...thank you,” Keisha replied, turning to face the handsome man. She tried to keep her mouth closed when she was greeted with his good looks and intoxicating cologne. 

“It’s no problem. I understand how important coffee is to a student. Trust me,” he stated. 

Keisha collected her coffee and muffin and thanked the nice guy again. “Thank you...” she paused waiting to hear his name. 

“T’Challa,” he grinned. 

“Thanks T’Challa. I’m Keisha, by the way.” 

T’Challa nodded, “Keisha. Nice to meet you. Enjoy your coffee.” 

Was it possible to impregnate a woman with just a look because Keisha was sure she was expecting after meeting Mr. T’Challa. 

Face claims: 

Naomi Lane

Dr. Curtis Nelson

Rashad 

[sunshinetrappedinourhearts]

Nathmarc month day 8: jealousy

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16491026/chapters/38808533 Whew, this one got a little long. 8D @nathmarcnovember

The sketchbook in front of him was empty, except for only a few lines. Nathaniel was squeezing his pencil, staring across the room. He was there again. And speaking with Marc again. For the fourth time this week, after having been here every day last week as well, and Nathaniel was pretty sure it wouldn’t stop anytime soon. The boy was casually talking to Marc, bumping his fist playfully against his shoulder, and Nathaniel saw the other blushing slightly as he chuckled a bit. Ah, right, Jonathan was his name. He had just joined Marc’s class after switching schools and ever since, he hadn’t been away from Marc’s side.

Jonathan was smiling brightly, then grabbed his sketchbook as he handed it to Marc, who took it and flipped through the pages, eyes shining brightly.

Nathaniel squeezed his pencil harder. There was something heavy in his chest. Maybe he had caught a cold, or…

He sighed. Flipped the pencil in his hand a few times. Looked at his sketchbook. Looked back at Jonathan and Marc. Sighed again. And leaned back against his chair. Marc had handed the sketchbook back to Jonathan and was talking, still these little lights shining in his eyes as he spoke. The other boy was smiling at him.

Yeah, his chest was weird. He was getting sick. Most probably.

‘Hey, what’s up, you sulking?’

Nathaniel looked up, and his friend Alix was in front of him, shaking a red graffiti spray can.

‘I’m not sulking.’

‘Wow, you look even more sulky now, talk to me, Nate!’

Nathaniel flipped his pencil around. Jonathan had put his hand on Marc’s shoulder as he was speaking, the other blushing again as he seemed to be listening carefully.

A knot. A knot in his chest. Should he go see a doctor or something?

‘Ohhhh, I see…’

‘See what?’ Nathaniel forced his gaze away from the two to study Alix’ expression, frowning slightly.

She had apparently followed his staring, as she was now observing Marc and Jonathan as well.

‘You scared he’s gonna steal your writer away?’

‘What? No!’

The words had rolled over his lips before he could stop and think about them. Was that why he was feeling so uneasy?

‘Aw, come on, you’re an open book here. You’ve been staring at them ever since I came in. Why don’t you just talk to Marc?’

‘And say what? I shouldn’t disturb him.’

He felt cold. He turned around, his back to the two boys and started sketching. But his lines were too angry, the grip on his pencil way off. He dropped it and tore out the page from his sketchbook, fumbling it together before he tossed it in the trashcan some centimetres away from him.

‘Nate…!’

Nathaniel looked up. Alix’ eyes had turned worried. He never really threw his drawings away, so that probably explained why. Unconsciously, Nathaniel glanced in Marc’s direction. He was still talking with Jonathan, he hadn’t even said a word to him aside from greeting him when he came in.

He should go home.

‘I think I’ll go home…’ he was about to stand up, but Alix stopped him, putting her hand on his shoulder.

‘Wait, just a second…’ She looked him in the eye. ‘It’s okay, you know. Just, be honest with yourself. And don’t jump to conclusions. Don’t make the same mistakes.’ She let go of him.

Nathaniel’s mind flashed back to when he rejected Marc’s offer to create a comic together, having concluded he only wanted to tease him. It was so stupid. Marc would never ever do something like that. He still felt guilty for tearing his notebook, even though the writer had already forgiven him months ago.

That’s why… Nathaniel thought he didn’t really have a right to say anything. Even though they were a team, Marc wasn’t his writer. He could cooperate with any artist he wanted.

But why… Why did his chest feel so heavy then…?

Nathaniel got up. ‘I know, Alix… I’m just… I need to think… I’ll talk to him later…’

Alix smiled. ‘You do that.’

He nodded at her and walked away slowly, his eyes on Marc. He was scribbling in his notebook, not noticing him. At some point however, he looked up and their eyes met.

Nathaniel quickly averted his gaze and exited the room, hurrying away.

There was something pounding in his head, and he rubbed his temples as he reached his locker, taking out his stuff so he could go home.

Then, a voice.

‘Nathaniel…? Are you alright…? ‘

Nathaniel dropped his sketchbook and kneeled down to get it back, but the owner of the voice was first. Marc grabbed his sketchbook and handed it to him, his green eyes seemed to be full of questions.

‘…thanks… Uhm, I’m fine, just a little headache, so I’ll be going home.’

Marc got up, looking unsure. ‘I see… I hope you’ll feel better soon.’ He smiled. But only a little. Nathaniel didn’t like it much. It was better when he smiled brightly, with those little lights in his eyes. But apparently, these now only shone for Jonathan instead of him.

The realisation stabbed him in the chest and he grimaced.

Why was he overreacting so much? Marc was just a friend, right? He was just… the writer with whom he cooperated, right? Why did it hurt so much, then?

Why was he thinking about the look in his eyes and smile and about how he wanted all of those to be directed at him instead of that crappy artist that only showed up last week?

‘…Nathaniel…?’

‘…yeah, thank you. I’ll be fine. Don’t worry. During my absence you’ll have all the time to work with your new artist. Oh, and just so you know, I’m not stopping you when I’m back either, so, good luck.’

He turned around, his head burning, his heart freezing and his hands shaking. That was mean. He knew it was mean. But somehow, he had still said those words. He walked away.

Marc didn’t follow him.

That made it worse.

He squeezed his bag, leaving the school.

Then suddenly, a hand on his shoulder. He turned around and Marc was there, his eyes a little red and some tears rolling down his cheeks.

Oh. He made him cry. Once again.

He. He really didn’t deserve to be Marc’s friend.

Words were stuck in his head, unable to get out. There were many he wanted to say, many he should have said, but none came.

So Marc had to speak.

‘I… I wanted to… work with you, Nathaniel…’

Huh?

‘…he just kept talking to me, though. He is really nice and talented, but… he doesn’t understand my writing at all. He says he does, but… It’s not like… you… But he… keeps wanting to sit with me and… show me his stuff… make me show him my stuff… And you… didn’t seem to like him, so… I figured I’d stay away a bit…’

Nathaniel couldn’t follow him entirely, but he knew that Marc was crying and uncomfortable and the important thing was that he stopped feeling like that, so he took a step closer and put a hand on his shoulder.

‘It’s alright, Marc. I’m sorry I said that… I just… I guess… I was a little jealous..’ he chuckled a bit. ‘But that is my problem. I shouldn’t take it out on you, sorry…’

Marc looked at him. ‘N-no, I’m saying… Y-you were jealous…? I… I… But I only like working with you, Nathaniel… And I don’t let anyone but you read my… stories… You know that… right?’

He didn’t. So Nathaniel blinked a bit. ‘…really…?’

Marc nodded. ‘I trust you more than anyone else… But as you don’t like Jonathan I didn’t want to put you in an uncomfortable situation since he… comes to me a lot…’

Oh.

‘Ah… You… don’t need to do that… I… was more troubled by your absence…’

Marc’s cheeks got a little pink and Nathaniel felt the knot in his chest untie slowly.

‘Well, I’ll stop doing it then,’ Marc said as he looked at him, a small smile on his lips. He was fumbling with the small strings of his hoodie a bit, and the knot untied some more.

Nathaniel smiled back. ‘Thank you, and… I’m sorry, Marc… I shouldn’t have said something like that to you…’

Marc shook his head. ‘It’s alright, I… never knew our… cooperation meant so much to you, so… I was a little surprised…’

‘Of course it does! You’re my writer, and more importantly, my friend!’ And I love seeing you smile. I want to see a thousand more of them.

Marc looked up and his smile got brighter.

‘Ah erm, I took my bag, too… Do you… want to go somewhere, work on the comic there?’ Marc asked.

‘Sure!’

Nathaniel waited a little, and the lights in Marc’s eyes appeared. The knot was gone. It made place for something fuzzy, something warm, and Nathaniel didn’t dislike it at all.

[thevampirediariesdiary]

1.09 History Repeating

The episode’s called “History Repeating”, so OBVIOUSLY it’s about the brothers, a perfect snapshot of their broken, broken relationship - with hints about just what parts of their history might come back around.  

This is the first episode with Alaric!  Despite being genuinely cool, he hits every single “new teacher trying to be a bro” trope like he’s checking them off a list: making fun of his name, telling the students they can call him Rick, and literally throwing the previous teacher’s files in the trash.  When explaining an extra credit history assignment to Jeremy, he literally says “make it sing”.  Rick.  That is not a helpful instruction.  

Stefan is giving Damon the cold shoulder...understandably...  Damon offers up a peace offering: coffee, to help with circulation.  I hereby offer a formal apology for making fun of the caffeine vampire fact two episodes ago.  It did in fact come back up again.  Show continuity, I should have had more faith in you.

Stefan ignores the coffee, so Damon offers a truly half-assed apology: “I got the town off our back, it was for the greater good, but I’m sorry, and to prove it, I’m not going to feed on a human for at least...a week?”  Shirtless Stefan, aka the Platonic Idea of Abs, wanders out of the closet and says “Because I realize that killing your closest and oldest friend is beyond evil and yet somehow...worthy of humor?”  Damon says, “Are you mimicking me?”  “Yes, Stefan,” says Stefan.  “Now that the secret society of vampire-haters is off our back, I can go back to my routine of ‘how can I destroy Stefan’s life this week?’”  Damon pipes up, “And I can go back to sulking, and Elena-longing, and forehead-brooding.”  And adds, “This is fun, I like this.”  “And I will finally reveal the ulterior motive behind my evil and diabolical return to Mystic Falls,” says Stefan.  “Yeaaah I’m done,” says Damon, then shifts back into dopey-Stefan voice: “That’s just like you Damon, you always have to have the last word!”  It’s a weirdly comfortable level of banter, given that Stefan was considering literally killing him one episode ago, but you get the feeling that this is the only way they know how to cope.  Plus, it’s a great bit, so I don’t even care if it’s out of character.  

Caroline yells at Matt for saying “hey” to her repeatedly, as it “reeks of awkward subtext”, and is a “lame guy move”.  He accuses her of reading into the same thing he’s said to her every day since the first grade, and says it’s a “lame girl move”.  I identify the heck out of the introspection spiral Caroline is clearly on.

Stefan tells Elena that he won’t be coming back to school; he’s gonna back off, keep his distance.  “Back off from school or from me?” Elena asks.  Stefan doesn’t answer, just says, “It’s better this way.”  “Yep, I got it,” Elena bites out.  “You’re angry, that’s good,” says Stefan, “it’ll be easier if you hate me.”  It’s condescending and paternalistic and I hate it.

Damon is still pestering Bonnie about the crystal.  “I’ll scream,” she threatens.  “Ohhhh noooo, don’t do that, let’s stay on point,” he says.  Started at the bottom...?  But it freaks Bonnie out enough that she tells Elena, and Elena tells Stefan, and Stefan promises to figure it out.

Jenna, staring at Alaric across the room: I like a man who can dine alone.  Quiet strength. Jeremy: I thought you were still in that Logan-depression thing. Jenna, in the Most Me sentence ever spoken: Oh, I’ve sworn off men forever, but it doesn’t mean I can’t observe them from a safe distance. 

Jenna says Jeremy’s dad had a box of stuff, the-Gilberts-came-over-on-the-Mayflower stuff.  This means the Gilberts and I have ancestors who were buddies!!  Or we would, if it was not Literal Historical Fact that my Mayflower ancestor was a terrific asshole whom No One Liked.

Stefan picks up the brother-impersonation bit again at the bar: S: So, Stefan! You know, I’ve been thinking. I think we should start over, give this brother thing another chance.  We used to do it oh-so-well once upon a time. D: I DON’T, Damon.  I can’t trust you to be a nice guy, you - you kill everybody, and you’re so mean...and...you’re so mean.  ...you’re really hard to imitate, and then I have to go to that lesser place.

Caroline, Bonnie, and Elena attempt to have a manicure night, but it turns into Bennet crystal drama, which I am 200% over.  “What is going on?” Caroline asks. “Why am I not a part of this conversation? You guys do this to me all the time.”  Elena says that’s not true, but Bonnie says it is - she can’t talk to Caroline, because Caroline never listens.  Caroline’s apology speech is fantastic: “It’s just not me.  I don’t believe in the *ooooohhh ghost noises*.  But if you do, then - okay.  I’m in.  That’s what it takes for me to jump on board, because I consider you my best friend, and I’m saying this knowing that Elena’s in the kitchen listening to my every word.  Look, I didn’t know how real this was for you, but I’m listening now, okay?”  I feel like this captures something important about Caroline - she’s not self-centered, precisely, she just assumes everyone’s seeing the same world she is, and placing importance on the same things.  But once she figures out that something is a big deal for her friends, it’s a big deal for her, too.  

Damon: I’m impressed, Stefan.  Fun with booze and darts, sentimental with football, and now: starry night.  ...what do you want, Stefan.  Stefan, seriously: It wasn’t real, Damon.  Our love for Katherine.  Damon, sotto voce: Oh, god.  Stefan, doggedly: She compelled us, we didn’t have a choice.  It took me years to sort that out, to truly understand what she did to us.  Damon: Oh, no, Stefan.  We are not takin’ that on tonight. Stefan: What do you want with Katherine’s crystal? Damon: How do you know about that? Stefan: Come on, you knew Elena would tell me. Damon: How’d you know it was Katherine’s? Emily gave it to her on her last night.  I was with her and you...weren’t. Stefan, defiantly: I was the last one to see her, Damon.  Now, what do you want with Katherine’s crystal? Damon, trying desperately to remain smug: She didn’t tell you? Stefan: We had other things on our mind. Damon: I could rip your heart our and not think twice about it. Stefan: Yeah, I’ve heard that before. Damon: I have a bigger surprise, Stefan.  I’m gonna bring her back.

OKAY SO ABOUT THIS.  First of all, how have they never talked about this before???  It has almost been one and a half CENTURIES.  Second: For someone who starts off trying to convince Damon that all the Katherine feelings weren’t real, Stefan sure seems like he’s still invested in which of them was loved by her more.  Instead of saying “I knew it was her crystal because she compelled me to be there that night and not tell you”, he says he was the last one to see her, like it’s some competition and he won?  And “we had other things on our mind”??  What are you doing?  This is a particularly dumb strategy because it’s CLEAR that Damon has not achieved ANY distance from the whole love triangle; his face when Stefan tells him he was with Katherine that night goes from this:

Shattered trust and suffocating inadequacy, to this:

You can SEE HIM deciding to play his last card, to finally one-up his little brother whom everyone loved more.  And then RIGHT BACK to the sudden-but-inevitable-betrayal look when Stefan basically says they were too busy having sex and bein’ in love to talk about jewelry.  EDIT: I just realized maybe Stefan did this on purpose to get Damon unsettled and angry enough that he would spill his secret?  If that’s the case, it was half brilliant but also insane...since unsettled and angry Damon, at this point in the show, tends more to violence than he does to truth-telling. 

Anyway, we get the tomb spell revelation.  “Did you know witches can use celestial events to draw energy into their magic - pssh, me neither!” says Damon, perfectly proving the point I made here.

This shot, of Jeremy being super pissed when he opens his front door and Elena and Caroline are standing there screaming? 

That’s how I felt through the whole seance sub-plot in this episode.  Also in aww-poor-Jeremy moments, he’s minding his business going through his dad’s boxes when his aunt and his history teacher come home like this:

The show is HEAVILY implying Alaric is a vampire, by the way.  He has a gaudy ring which he says belonged to his father (spoiler alert, that’s a lie), and he does the whole look-pensively-at-the-lintel thing while standing in the doorway.  “You know what, I’m not gonna invite you in,” Jenna tells him.  “Some other time,” says Rick, looking cocky as hell.

Emily Bennet possesses Bonnie and takes everybody to the woods, where Stefan learns there are multiple tomb vamps.  “I don’t care about them, I just want Katherine,” says Damon.  “This isn’t about love, is it, this is about revenge!” Stefan accuses.  “The two aren’t mutually exclusive!”  Emily-as-Bonnie destroys the crystal, despite Damon’s agonizing pleading, and then when Emily leaves, Damon attacks Bonnie. Stefan saves her; Elena gives Damon dagger-eyes which are somehow still a little...disappointed?

And here’s what’s arguably the biggest revelation of the episode, delivered by Damon, tears in his eyes: “Katherine never compelled me.  I knew everything, every step of the way.  It was real for me.”

Elena makes another bid for togetherness with Stefan: “I thought I couldn’t be with you, but I can!  You don’t have to push me away, I can do this.”  “I can’t,” says Stefan, and tells her he’s leaving town.  The back and forth is already driving me insane, and we’re only on episode nine.  Oh, long-form television and your contrived stalling.

Matt climbs into Caroline’s window to tell her “We cuddled, and it creeped me out.”  He needs to improve his communication skills.  But they figure it out, and then eat junk food in her bed, adorably.  Damon sits where Stefan left him, and stares into space, broken.  Stefan throws an old journal across the room and breaks down crying, looking like he’s finally lost control.  Elena confesses everything to a very shaken Bonnie.  And last but not least, Logan Scum-Bucket Fell turns up on the Gilbert doorstep, and asks, “Aren’t you gonna invite me in?”

Music Moments: Barcelona’s “Come Back When You Can” plays over the closing scenes, presumably referring to Katherine - “come back when you can / let go, you’ll understand / you’ve done nothing at all to make me love you less / so come back when you can”.

Eyebrow Watch: “Yeaaaah I’m done”

And a Very Special Edition of Eyebrow Watch, featuring Stefan-as-Damon:

previous episode  next episode

[olicitysecretsanta]

OSS gift for @bokayjunkie

Hi, Nikka! I browsed through your Tumblr and Twitter accounts a bit and saw that you enjoy William’s dynamic with both Oliver and Felicity, and because I spent my Thanksgiving weekend watching Christmas movies, I got to wondering how William might spend the holidays with his new family. This started off with the simple idea of “five times William helped make Christmas dinner for his family” and quickly grew into an entire Thing. It took on a life of its own and went in directions I wasn’t intending, but in the best ways possible - at least I think so. Friendly warning: you may want to have tissues on hand.

I really hope you enjoy this, and that you have a blessed Christmas and Holiday season!

~ Sarah @allana-the-lionheart

An Unexpected Family

Rating: PG

Warnings: none

Characters: Oliver Queen, Felicity Smoak, William

Genres: fluff, angst, future fic

Summary: William spends his first Christmas with his new family.

AN: For the purposes of this story, assume that William is 12 years old this Christmas. There’s too much contradicting canon on this topic, but I’ve always thought that, based on the choice of actor, 12 makes more sense than 10.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

An Unexpected Family

December 24th, 2017

The first year William helps his father make Christmas dinner, he burns the sweet potatoes.

“I’m sorry,” William mumbles as Oliver pulls the pan of charcoal black potatoes out of the oven.

“It’s okay, buddy,” Oliver assures him, smiling softly at his son as he sets the inedible dish on top of the stove. “There’s a lot that goes into cooking. You just need some practice. And besides, you did a great job on the mashed potatoes.”

“Yes, you did,” a voice responds from behind them, and William turns around just in time to see Felicity stick a spoon into the bowl of mashed potatoes and shove it into her mouth. “Mmmm, heavenly,” she sighs, and William laughs as Oliver takes the spoon out of her hands with a smirk.

“What did I tell you about sampling the food before dinner?” he asks, leaning in over her, but there’s a playful smile on his face, and William knows his father is just teasing her.

“ ‘Don’t,’ ” Felicity answers, and she reaches out to try and grab the spoon from him, but Oliver pulls it away from her and holds it out to William. William takes it and deposits it in the sink, out of Felicity’s reach.

“Oh, boo, you guys are no fun,” she pouts, and Oliver just smiles at her and bends down for a kiss. William turns away - not from embarrassment, but to give them some privacy, because he’s grown used to their displays of affection by now.

He doesn’t know either Oliver or Felicity very well yet, but he’s learning more and more about his father and his new step-mother everyday, and if there’s one thing he does know it’s that they love each other very much.

He gives them what he considers to be enough time for a kiss - which, unbeknownst to him, is not even close to enough time - before he asks, “What’s next?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few hours later, the three of them collapse in the living room.

Dinner was delicious.

His dad had done most of the work, of course, but Oliver had shown him how to do it all: the potatoes, the rolls, the various side dishes, the pumpkin and apple pies (which are still cooling), and even the ham. It was a lot of work, but William had enjoyed learning how to prepare everything. He’s not sure he’ll ever be as good a cook as Oliver, but he’s looking forward to learning more from his father in the future.

William lets out a long sigh and leans back in his chair, more than willing to sit in silence for a few minutes while his food digests.

A soft groan makes him open his eyes, and he smiles at the sight of Felicity sitting on the couch next to Oliver, her head resting on his shoulder.

“Ohhhh, I couldn’t eat another bite,” Felicity moans, rubbing dramatically at her stomach.

William shakes his head, because he knows for a fact that that’s just not true.

Oliver calls her out on it, of course.

“I don’t believe that for a second,” he chuckles, and he reaches down and grabs her left hand in his right. He rubs his fingers against her wedding ring (something William’s noticed the two of them doing quite a lot since they got married a month ago). “We haven’t even had dessert yet,” Oliver reminds her, and Felicity pulls her head away from his shoulder.

“Dessert?” she asks, and she flips her hand in his so she can twine their fingers together. “You didn’t tell me there was dessert.”

“There’s always dessert, Mrs. Smoak,” his dad teases, and William can’t help but smile as Felicity scoots closer to Oliver and kisses him on the cheek. “Assuming you have room for it, of course.”

“There’s always room for dessert, Mr. Queen,” she assures him, and the look his dad gives her makes William’s cheeks flame red.

“Hey, Oliver?” William asks, because he’s afraid if he doesn’t say something they’re going to forget he’s even in the room.

“Yeah, buddy?” Oliver responds, turning to his son.

“When are we going to open the presents?” he asks, gesturing at the good sized pile of wrapped gifts under the Christmas tree.

Oliver smiles.

“Well, Queen family tradition has always been that we each get to open one present on Christmas Eve, and we save the rest for the morning. I’m not sure how you-”

Oliver pauses, and William notices that his posture stiffens just the slightest. Felicity must notice it, too, because she sits up straighter next to him and grabs his right hand between both of her own, squeezing it gently.

Oliver clears his throat, then continues.

“I’m not sure how you and your mom used to do it,” he finishes.

The room falls quiet after that, and it feels like Oliver’s dropped a bomb on the festivities.

William’s stomach churns uncomfortably, making him feel like he’s going to be sick, and the dark, heavy feeling of sadness and fear that’s lived in his chest ever since he lost his mother - the one that’s been slowly but steadily growing lighter every day - suddenly threatens to crush him.

William turns away so his father won’t see that he’s started to cry.

But Oliver notices anyway.

“William….”

Oliver doesn’t say anything more, and as Willam wraps his arms around his stomach - tears falling against his will - he hears movement from the couch.

He doesn’t want to be sad. Not today.

It’s Christmas.

“Wiliam.”

He feels a warm, strong hand land on his shoulder, and he knows he couldn’t pull away even if he wanted to.

…And he doesn’t want to.

“I miss her,” William whispers, and a sob escapes him.

And then another.

Before he knows what’s happening, Oliver is kneeling down in front of him and he’s being pulled into a hug.

William rests his head against his father’s chest as the tears come hard and fast.

“I know, buddy. I know. It’s okay,” Oliver whispers soothingly, pressing a kiss against the top of William’s head, and somehow that only makes him cry even more.

His cheeks heat up in embarrassment. He’s turning 13 next year; he’s too old to be crying like this. But he can’t help it.

When William was little, his mother had always told him that his dad wasn’t ready to be a parent, and that’s why he’d left them before William was born. She’d never sounded bitter or angry when she spoke about his father, though. And so - while William had always wished that his father had chosen to stay - he’d never really grown to hate him.

But then he’d also never really loved him.

Thoughts of his father had never really made William feel…anything.

Growing up, William had never expected to meet his father.

He’d never expected his father to cook for him, or pick him up from school, or help him get back to sleep when he woke up from a nightmare.

He’d never expected to celebrate Christmas with his father.

He’d never expected his father to care for him, or comfort him….

…or love him.

He’d never expected any of this.

And yet here he is, crying in his father’s arms.

Oliver’s been there for him in a way that William had never expected…and when he finds himself calling out for his father, he knows it should surprise him….

…but it doesn’t.

“Dad?” he whimpers, and when Oliver hugs him tighter, William wraps his arms around his father and holds on tight.

“I’m here, William. I’m here,” Oliver soothes him. “I’m here, son.”

And William finally lets himself cry in a way he hasn’t since his mother died.

As he lets go, he’s vaguely aware of the sound of Felicity getting off the couch.

Vaguely aware of hearing her whisper Oliver’s name.

Vaguely aware of his dad answering with a simple, “please.”

William opens his eyes for a second, just long enough to watch Felicity kneel down next to Oliver, rest her head against his shoulder, and wrap her arms around his back. She’s careful not to touch William, and he understands why…but at the same time he kind of wishes she would.

And suddenly he’s crying harder.

So William closes his eyes and lets his father hold him until the tears finally stop.

When he’s done, William finds that, somehow, he feels better.

Wordlessly, Oliver stands and grabs a box of tissues from the coffeetable, handing it to William. As William dries his face, his father leaves to check on the pies.

Felicity is nowhere in sight.

William blows his nose one last time, then moves to the trashcan over by the couch to throw away his tissues. Then he walks over to the Christmas tree.

He looks over the ornaments carefully, like he’s done so many times already.

There are many different kinds of ornaments on the tree; the three of them had worked together to decorate it a few days after Thanksgiving. A lot of them are electronic - the kind that light up and make noise if you touch them (all courtesy of Felicity) - but there are a lot of older ones, too. As he looks at the mix of new and old, his gaze lands on a set of four ornaments near the very top.

These are his favorites.

There are two snowmen bearing the names “Oliver” and “Thea” which - quite fittingly - have green and red scarves on them, respectively. Then there’s a small white bear wearing a blue scarf with Felicity’s name on it, and it has the words “Baby’s First Hanukkah” stitched on its stomach. And finally, there’s a little gingerbread man with William’s name and the words “Baby’s First Christmas” on it.

William smiles as he looks at them, thinking about the little family they seem to make.

“Will?” he hears a soft voice beside him, and he turns to find Felicity holding out a mug. “Hot chocolate?”

He nods, taking it from her gratefully, and he takes a sip and sighs.

Felicity’s hot chocolate is perfect, as usual. The temperature, the amount of chocolate, the marshmallow-to-whipped cream ratio. She has it all down to a science. According to her, it’s the only thing “aside from coffee and disasters” that she’s good at making in the kitchen.

Funnily enough, William had never really liked hot chocolate before Felicity started making it for him.

William takes another sip, and the drink makes him feel warm, and happy….

…and loved.

He looks back up at the ornaments on the tree, and he knows he’s making the right choice.

“Oliver?” he calls out, loudly enough that Oliver can hear him from the kitchen.

“Yeah, buddy?” Oliver answers from behind him, and William turns around just as his father walks back into the living room.

“Mom would always make me wait until Christmas morning…but I think I’d like to try something else.”

Oliver smiles, and he closes the remaining distance between them and puts a hand on his shoulder, gripping it tightly.

“Whatever you want to do is fine. We can start a whole new tradition, if you want.”

William shakes his head.

“I want to try it your way; the Queen family way.”

William’s pretty sure the smile Oliver gives him could light their Christmas tree by itself, and he shifts uncomfortably as his father’s eyes start to shine with tears. But then Oliver says, “I’d like that very much,” and Felicity shakily answers, “me too,” and William takes another sip of his hot chocolate because he’s afraid he might start crying again if he doesn’t.

He keeps drinking until Felicity (thankfully) breaks the silence.

“So! How does this work, husband?” she asks, turning to survey the pile of presents under the tree.

Oliver makes a weird, strangled noise, then quickly covers it by clearing his throat. Felicity doesn’t seem to notice, but William looks at his father questioningly, his right eyebrow quirking up like it usually does when he’s confused; a trait that - as he’s only recently discovered - he clearly inherited from his father.

William clasps his mug tight and chooses not to say anything about it as Oliver comes to stand on his other side.

“We each pick out one present that we want to open,” his dad explains. “William, do you wanna go first?”

“Actually…can I pick out something for you guys to open?” William asks.

Oliver smiles, then wraps an arm around William’s shoulder and pulls him to his side. “Of course you can. How about we all pick something for everyone else to open?” he suggests.

“Perfect!” Felicity squeals, and before either of them can move, she streaks past them and starts digging through the pile. “Let’s go slowpokes. I wanna open presents!”

William and his father share a quick look before Oliver dives in after Felicity. William takes a second to set his mug down safely on the floor before he joins them. He picks out his presents immediately, because he knows exactly where he put them, and he steps aside as Oliver and Felicity continue to dig through the pile.

“Come on, come on, where is it?” Felicity mutters, searching frantically for a second package.

“I don’t know, honey, but you’re in my way,” Oliver responds, and Felicity squeaks as Oliver wraps his arms around her middle and picks her up off the floor.

“Put me down!” she laughs, and Oliver chuckles back as he moves carefully over the wrapped presents and deposits her feet on the ground. “No fair!” she accuses, and Oliver just smirks at her as he turns back to the gifts and picks up his second package.

Felicity crosses her arms over her chest and pouts. Oliver shakes his head, and as he moves to step around her he kisses her fondly on the cheek.

“Whenever you’re ready, hon,” he teases, and William can’t keep himself from laughing as Felicity huffs and moves back toward the pile. After searching for a few seconds, she finds her second gift and comes back over to them. As she walks past Oliver, heading toward the open spot of floor in front of the couch, she wields the second (much smaller) package in her hand and smacks him hard in the chest with it.

“Oww,” Oliver complains, frowning as he rubs at his chest. “I guess I deserved that.”

“Yes, you did,” she tells him, but she’s smiling, and she smacks him on the arm - softer this time - before sitting on the floor. “Who’s going first?”

“Me,” William responds as he sits down on the floor with his gifts. “Well, you guys, I guess, but….” He looks at the boxes in his hand, considers for a moment, then holds one out to Oliver and one to Felicity. “Here. These are for both of you.”

Felicity gasps, and she takes her package with a whisper of William’s name and a smile.

Oliver, on the other hand, just stares at his package, and William’s afraid he’s somehow done something wrong. But then Oliver looks up at him with an unreadable expression on his face.

“You didn’t have to get us anything, buddy. It’s Christmas. We should be getting you presents.”

William shakes his head. “It’s okay; I wanted to. I bought them with my allowance,” he explains.

“William, I….”

It’s clear that his father wants to say something, but for some reason he can’t. William’s about to take the box back when Felicity clears her throat.

“Oliver, honey, take the present.”

Her words seem to bring Oliver back to the moment, and he laughs lightly and finally takes the gift from him.

“Thanks, buddy,” he says with a smile. “Felicity, do you want to-”

“Open mine first?” she asks as she tears at the wrapping on the small box she’s holding. “Don’t mind if I do.”

Oliver rolls his eyes and smiles at her, and as William watches his father watch Felicity, he sees nothing but love in his father’s eyes. It’s similar to the way Oliver looks at him, yet different at the same time. Felicity makes his dad happy, and yeah, William totally gets it, because she’s pretty damn cool.

Once Felicity’s got the box unwrapped she pulls the lid off, and she gasps as she reaches inside and pulls out a small gold ornament.

“Oh, William,” she sighs, and she covers her mouth with her hand.

“Lemme see,” Oliver says, and he leans in closer to her. Felicity holds the ornament out so the two of them can look at it together, and Oliver lets out a soft “wow” when he sees it.

It’s a Christmas tree ornament in the shape of a gold star. On the front there’s a picture of Oliver and Felicity at their wedding reception, and an engraving around the edge of the image reads “Our First Christmas, 2017.” As Felicity’s eyes grow shiny with tears, Oliver carefully flips the ornament over, and he finds their names printed on the back: “Oliver and Felicity.”

“This…this is….” Felicity stammers, at a loss for words, but then Oliver finds them for her.

“It’s beautiful, William. Thank you.”

Felicity nods, and she lets Oliver take the ornament from her and set it back in the box as she leans over and pulls William into a tight hug.

“Thank you, Will. I love it,” she tells him, and William smiles as he hugs Felicity back and says “you’re welcome.”

She sniffles when she pulls away, and as she wipes a few stray tears from her eyes Oliver bends down and kisses the top of her head.

“Open yours, hon,” Felicity tells him, pointing at the second package lying in front of Oliver.

Oliver nods, and he takes his box (the same size and shape as the one Felicity just opened) and starts to unwrap it.

“I got them made at a little shop downtown,” William explains. “Aunt Thea drove me down there and helped me pick out a design, but it was all my idea.”

Oliver takes a second to look up at William and smile before pulling the top off his box.

Inside, he finds a similar ornament. It’s the same size and shape as the first one, but silver instead of gold, and on the front of it is another picture from their wedding reception….

…only this one has all three of them in it.

Oliver and Felicity, with William standing in the middle.

All three of their names are engraved on the back….

…and on the front, around the edge of the image, are the words, “Our First Christmas as a Family.”

Oliver’s eyes grow wide as he looks at the gift, but he doesn’t say a word. Felicity leans in to look at it with him, and her eyes fill with tears yet again, only this time she doesn’t let them fall. Instead she rests her head on Oliver’s shoulder and wraps an arm around him, rubbing gently at his back.

Neither of them says anything, and William feels his heart start to race. Maybe he made a mistake. Maybe his dad doesn’t like it, or maybe-

Before he knows what’s happening, Oliver leans over and pulls William into a fierce hug.

“Thank you, William,” Oliver whispers against his hair. “I love it. Thank you.”

William hugs his dad back, and he wants to say more but - much like his father - he’s having trouble making the words come out.

He’s pretty sure the gift says it all, though.

Finally, just when William starts to feel like he’s running out of air because his dad is squeezing him so hard, Oliver pulls away.

“What do you say we hang these up together?” Oliver suggests, and William nods happily.

So the three of them get up and move over to the tree, looking for an empty spot on the already overcrowded branches.

But William already knows exactly where they should go.

“Here,” he says, pointing at a spot underneath the four ornaments he’d looked at earlier.

Oliver nods, and they all carefully move a few ornaments around to make room for the two new ones. When they’re done, they step back, and Felicity lets out a sigh as she declares it “perfect.”

Then they head back to their spot on the floor to open the rest of the presents.

William opens his next. Both of them turn out to be books. Felicity’s is a beginner’s guide to coding - which William had mentioned he was interested in learning, and which she can’t wait to go through with him tomorrow - and Oliver’s is all about the basics of cooking.

“I don’t expect you to become a chef or anything, but I was hoping…maybe I could show you some things?” Oliver offers, and William notes that his father suddenly seems nervous; a rarity for him.

“I’d like that,” William assures him with a quick nod, and Oliver practically beams back at him.

Lastly, Oliver and Felicity exchange gifts with each other. William’s pretty sure they’re more like “gag gifts” than actual presents, but either way, they both seem happy with what they’ve received. Felicity smirks and says “damn straight” when she opens her bag and finds a coffee mug that says “Queen of Everything” in fancy gold script, and Oliver actually blushes when he unwraps a pair of red spatulas with the words “Devoted to Dessert” written on them.

“Felicity….” Oliver trails off, and his cheeks grow redder and redder the longer he stares at his gift. Eventually, Felicity takes pity on him, and she leans over and kisses his cheek before standing up and holding her hands out to him.

“Speaking of dessert, I think it’s time for pie,” she suggests, and Oliver nods, smiling as he takes her hands and lets her help him to his feet. William chuckles as they head into the kitchen to dish out the pumpkin and apple pies, and while he’s pretty sure he’s missing something, he realizes it’s probably better that way.

Once they each have a plate of pie, they sit down on the couch together to watch some Christmas specials. They make it through A Charlie Brown Christmas, How the Grinch Stole Christmas, and about half of Rudolph before William falls asleep.

A gentle shaking of his shoulder wakes him up just as the credits are rolling.

“Time for bed, buddy,” Oliver says softly.

William lifts his head up from his dad’s shoulder, where he must have rested it when he fell asleep. As he sits up on the couch he nods before yawning loudly.

Oliver chuckles, and he runs a hand through William’s hair, messing it up.

“Dad, stop,” William laughs, and Oliver pulls his hand away suddenly.

William has only called him “Dad” twice - both during times when he was scared and upset. This is the first time he’s ever called him “Dad” while he was happy.

The moment isn’t lost on either of them, and they stare at each other, both at a loss for words once more.

Like father, like son.

Just when the silence starts to get awkward, a quiet snore sounds from William’s left, and Felicity stirs in her sleep, sighing softly as she snuggles farther into her corner of the couch.

Leave it to Felicity to break the tension, William thinks to himself, and he laughs as he stands up from the couch, ready to head to his room.

He only makes it a few steps before Oliver stops him.

“William?”

“Yeah?” he asks, turning back toward his father.

“I love you,” Oliver tells him simply.

And though it’s not the first time Oliver’s said it, it is the first time that William responds:

“I love you, too.”

His dad smiles at him, nodding once, and William nods back.

“Ol’vr?” Felicity mumbles, and William watches silently as Oliver turns to her.

“Time for bed, my love,” Oliver whispers gently, brushing a strand of hair away from her face, and as Oliver stands up from the couch and bends down to pick up his sleepy wife, William turns away and heads to bed.

Ten minutes later, William falls fast asleep…and for the first time in a long time, he doesn’t have a single nightmare.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One year later, William helps his father make Christmas dinner again. He’s better at it than he was before - having had some practice in the kitchen with Oliver - and when William suggests that they makes this a new tradition, Felicity pulls him and his father in for a tight group hug.

“Felicity!” William protests, but he ends up laughing because he’s not really upset.

“No complaining,” Felicity tells him. “Either of you. It’s Christmas, and I love my boys, which means you’re both getting hugs.”

“I’m hardly a boy anymore,” Oliver starts to say at the same time that William says, “I love you, too.”

And just like that, Felicity’s squeezing him even tighter, and William gasps for air because yeah, even though he’s actually taller than her now, she’s still scary strong.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Oliver, William, and Felicity don’t just celebrate Christmas every year: they celebrate Hanukkah, too.

On the day after Thanksgiving, the three of them decorate their house for both holidays, and the decorations usually stay up well past New Years. With Felicity’s guidance, they observe all the best and most important Hanukkah traditions, and Oliver and William share their own Christmas traditions with her in return. When it comes to eating for the week of Hanukkah, Oliver does his best to cook Felicity’s favorite foods. He buys cookbooks, does research online, and even borrows recipes from his mother-in-law, doing his best to replicate them. Every year he learns more and more dishes, and every year William’s pretty sure they all gain five pounds each from his dad’s cooking

Two years after his first Christmas with Oliver and Felicity, the week of Hanukkah happens to fall during Christmas time. As a result, their Christmas Eve dinner consists of a wonderful combination of both Christmas and Hanukkah meals, and - as per their new tradition - William helps Oliver with all the cooking.

Aunt Thea assures him that the sweet potatoes - which he made all by himself this year and did not burn - are perfection, while Mr. Lance really enjoys the marinade William helped make for the ham. Then Felicity’s mother actually starts to cry because the latkes Oliver made taste just like the ones her mother made when she was little. William cringes slightly as Donna hugs Oliver extra tight, while Felicity leans over and whispers in William’s ear, “I should hope so; I stole the recipe off her computer.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The following year - about a week after William turns 15 - they welcome a new member into their family, and so William buys another new ornament for their Christmas tree. He manages to find one that looks just like his own “First Christmas” ornament, and he writes the words on it himself.

Baby’s First Christmas, 2020

Ava Queen

With practice, William has gotten better and better at cooking - though he’s not nearly as interested in it as he is in computers - and so he makes all the sides by himself that year, leaving Oliver to cook the ham and bake the desserts (because Oliver can’t not make the desserts).

After dinner, the three of them sit down in the living room to watch It’s A Wonderful Life. A mere twenty minutes into the movie, Felicity and his father fall asleep together on the couch. William lets them rest, because he knows how exhausted they both are, especially his step-mom.

About halfway through the movie, the sound of soft crying starts to come through on the baby monitor, and William shuts it off before it can wake Oliver and Felicity. Then he moves quietly down the hallway toward his baby sister’s room. When he finds her crying loudly in her crib, he carefully picks her up and starts to rock her back and forth in his arms.

“Shhh, it’s okay, Ava,” he soothes her. “I’m here. It’s okay.”

As he holds her, Ava continues to cry - just a bit softer than before - and so William sits down in the rocking chair and tries to lull her back to sleep. When her cries still haven’t quieted after a minute of rocking, he starts to sing to her: a lullaby his mom used to sing to him when he was little.

A few minutes later, she still hasn’t stopped crying. William’s loath to wake Felicity, but he knows little Ava must be hungry. He’s about to stand when a voice speaks from the doorway.

“Will?” Felicity calls his name softly, and it sounds like she’s been crying. He wonders how long she’s been standing there watching him try and rock his little sister to sleep.

“I was just about to come get you,” William says, and he stands from the rocker as Felicity moves into the room. “I know you’re tired, and I wanted to let you sleep, but I think she’s hungry, and-”

Before he can finish, Felicity wraps her arms around him and pulls him into a hug. It’s quick and not too tight, as William is still holding Ava, and when she pulls away he realizes that he was right; Felicity has been crying.

“You’re a good brother, Will…and you’re an even better son,” she tells him, running her fingers gently across his cheek.

William’s heart clenches in his chest, and he can’t help but feel guilty, even though he knows he shouldn’t.

He’s gotten used to calling Oliver “Dad,” but he’s never called Felicity “Mom” before…and if he’s being honest, he doesn’t think he ever will.

It’s something he and Felicity have talked about before; just once - a few days after Ava was born.

It was Felicity’s last night in the hospital before she was due to take her newborn daughter home. Felicity had asked him if they could discuss something important: just the two of them. Felicity had wanted him to understand that even though she had a baby of her own now, it didn’t change anything between them. She’d wanted him to understand that she never had and never would expect William to think of her as his mother, or to call her anything more than “Felicity,” and that she was okay with it.

“I would never try and take your mother’s place, Will,” she’d told him that night. “I just… I need you to know that I love you, and that no matter what happens, I’ll always think of you as my son.”

Looking at Felicity now, William knows that while he isn’t ready - and he may never be - what’s important is that they’re a family. Him, his dad, Felicity…and now baby Ava.

William smiles down at his little sister, then lifts her up carefully and kisses her forehead.

As he hands Ava to Felicity, he smiles.

“Family doesn’t end with blood,” William says, looking at her pointedly. It’s something Felicity has said to him many times before; something that William has grown to appreciate more and more as the years pass. It means that even if they aren’t related by blood, he and Felicity are a family in every way that really matters.

Felicity nods, and tears rise in her eyes as she smiles back at him, clearly happy to hear that William has taken her words to heart. She hugs her daughter tighter to her chest, and Ava starts squirming, crying harder now because her mommy isn’t giving her what she wants.

Felicity sighs tiredly, but she doesn’t stop smiling as she reaches up and ruffles William’s hair affectionately before shooing him from the room.

“Go tell your father to stop snoring. I can’t sleep with all the racket he’s making.”

William laughs, and as Felicity sits down in the rocker to nurse her daughter, William heads back to the living room to finish watching the movie.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Three years later, William returns to Star City for his first winter break from MIT.

He hasn’t chosen a major yet, as he’s still exploring his numerous options, but Felicity can’t stop beaming with pride everytime she talks excitedly about how William got into her old alma mater.

“William’s smart, just like his father,” Felicity has taken to telling anyone who will listen to her gush about his scholarship to MIT.

“You mean like you?” Oliver always asks, to which Felicity inevitably responds, “Well, yes, obviously, but you’re smart, too, Oliver. You always have been.”

As embarrassing as it is to be talked about like he’s not there, William’s response is always the same - a shake of his head and a smile - because everytime Felicity calls Oliver “smart” his dad’s eyes light up, and he looks at her like he can’t believe how lucky he is to have her.

William hopes he can find a love even half as good as theirs someday.

A few days before Christmas Eve, William asks Oliver if he can prepare dinner all by himself this time. While he’s definitely been enjoying himself at MIT, he’s been feeling a bit homesick lately, and the idea of cooking a showstopping Christmas dinner for his family feels like the perfect remedy.

Oliver seems shocked at first, and William’s afraid he might protest (his dad still has a hard time handing someone else the reins, even after all these years), but in the end, he concedes pretty easily.

“I have a three year old daughter and a very pregnant wife to contend with this year. I think I can step back and let you have this one. Just as long as-”

“You get to make the dessert,” William adds, and he rolls his eyes at the look of disbelief on Oliver’s face. “Obviously, Dad.”

In the end, William pulls out all the stops. He adds a few dishes to the menu - making sure to adjust the proportions for the unusually large number of people who’ll be there this year - and he cooks the whole meal himself, including the ham.

Christmas Eve night, William and his growing family sit around the table with two other families: Diggle and Lyla with their two kids - JJ and little Sara (who’s only a few months older than Ava) - and Aunt Thea and Uncle Roy, with their newborn baby Robert.

After a fun but hectic evening spent watching Christmas specials, chasing two toddlers around the house, and cooing over baby Robbie, Oliver, Felicity, and William finally find themselves alone in a quiet living room.

Felicity sighs, leaning back farther against the arm of the couch as Oliver massages her sore feet, which are resting in his lap.

“Presents?” she asks sleepily, and William groans.

“I’m not even sure I have the energy to get out of this chair, much less try and open anything that you’ve wrapped.”

“Hey!” Felicity mutters indignantly, and she tries to sit up on the couch, but she gives up when her very pregnant belly proves to be too much for her. “I’ll have you know I’ve gotten much better at wrapping since you complained that first time.”

“She really hasn’t,” Oliver whispers, just loud enough that she can still hear him, and William laughs when she kicks her foot out, hitting Oliver in the stomach. Oliver lets out a loud “owww” at the same time that Felicity clutches her stomach and groans.

“Are you okay?” William asks, and he sits up in his chair, suddenly wide awake.

“I’m fine,” Oliver grumbles at the same time that Felicity says, “he kicked me.”

“Dad did?” William asks Felicity, staring at her in confusion.

“No, the baby,” Felicity responds, and Oliver stops rubbing his stomach, perking up at the mention of his unborn son. “Do you want to feel?” Felicity asks, holding a hand out to William.

He does.

So he gets out of his chair, crosses the room, and puts his palm against Felicity’s stomach, letting her guide his hand to the right spot….

…and William feels his half-brother kick for the first time.

“He’s strong already, just like his daddy,” Felicity says with a proud smile, and William grins when he feels the baby kick again in response, almost as though he understands her.

Oliver reaches over and puts his own hand on Felicity’s belly, and William steps back to give his father a turn.

“And his mommy,” Oliver responds as the baby kicks once more. He takes his free hand and touches his stomach, rubbing once more at the place where she kicked him. “That really did hurt, you know.”

“Oh, shush, you big baby,” Felicity admonishes, trying to swat at his arm but failing because he’s just out of reach. “You want to know about pain? Try carrying another human being inside you for nine months. Twice.”

Oliver just stares at her, smiling fondly, his eyes full of a love that seems to have only gotten stronger over the years. Then he bends down and kisses her belly, and William decides it’s time to excuse himself.

As he heads off to bed, he hears his father say, “Felicity Smoak…have I ever told you how much I love you?”

“Only about twenty times a day for six years,” Felicity sighs happily. “But I wouldn’t object if you wanted to say it more.”

William shakes his head and laughs as he closes the door to his room.

He loves his father and his step-mother.

He loves his half-sister Ava, and he already loves his half-brother Tommy, even though he hasn’t been born yet.

William loves his little family….

…and as he gets ready for bed, he thinks about how he can’t wait to start a family of his own someday.

…the end…

[kirachama]

sobero (slight saeran x reader)

summary: of course saeran would get stuck baby sitting a drunk at his dumb brother’s new year’s party.

rating: 13+ (alcohol consumption)

notes: so last year (as in 2016) i was supposed to do a fic trade with @cannibalisticskittles and @zentherainbowunicorn and uh, so it’s a year late, but still in season. Ehehe. There were prompts involved but I don’t even remember what they were. ANYWAY, probably one of the most ridiculous things I’ve written since I graduated high school. i hope you guys enjoy and have a happy new year!

It’s an hour until midnight when Saeran finally gives into his brother’s incessant nagging to come out of his room and celebrate New Years with everyone else. There’s no doubt that in his mind that his brother’s friends are buzzed, if not outright drunk, since they’ve been getting increasingly louder as the night’s gone on. Saeran doesn’t mind the drinking, but he could do without the excess ruckus.

It doesn’t take long for Saeran to grow bored of the festivities though and he almost tries to sneak back to his room. However, one threatening smile from his brother is enough to keep Saeran from leaving the party. Saeran contemplates just ignoring him and leaving anyway, but is stopped when someone grabs him by the wrist.

“Heeeey~ where’re ya goin’?”

Saeran turns to look at his captor. Despite not being a member of the RFA, Saeyoung had let his fiancee invite her friend for some reason or another. You stare at him, eyes wide and somewhat glazed over and there’s no doubt in Saeran’s mind that you’re already plastered. When he doesn’t answer you tug at his arm, repeating your question.

“Back to my room,” he answers shortly. He’s hoping that his curt tone will dissuade you from keeping him any longer, but it turns out to not work.

“But whyyyyy~?” you cry, tugging on his arm more. “The party’s here! Not in your room!”

Saeran grimaces, trying to think of an appropriate excuse, but before he can, you start to pull him further from the sanctity of his room and closer to the rest of the party. He tries to struggle a bit, but each time he does, you yank him that much harder. But instead of pulling him into the thick of things like he expects, you usher him to sit down on the living room couch before plopping down next to him.

“Let’s sit here, ‘kaaaaay?”

Saeran nods hesitantly. Of course, he’d rather be in his room, but when given the choice he’d rather be here sitting down than joining in on whatever the others seem to be doing. You flash him a goofy grin before leaning your head down on his shoulder.

The sudden contact causes Saeran to jump, but you seem to either not notice or think nothing of it. He looks around helplessly, unsure if he should push you off or let you be. From across the room, he manages to catch his brother’s eyes. Saeyoung stares for a moment before slowly putting a thumbs up as he grins encouragingly. Saeran’s automatic response is a disgusted look. No doubt that that stupid brother of his has the whole situation misconstrued. He probably thinks that this is the start of some kind of half baked romance, when it’s really a tale of babysitting.

Saeyoung, of course, totally and utterly ignores the look on Saeran’s face and just mouths, ‘Good job!’

Saeran’s response is a pointed glare at his brother. Can’t that idiot tell that he’s chaperoning, not seducing you? Guess he’ll have to explain before his dumb ideas get any worse than they already are. Saeran whips out his phone to send him a quick text, ‘they’re drunk, dumbass.’

He continues to glare at Saeyoung until he checks his phone. His mouth forms an o before he types out a response, ‘ohhhh. take cake care of them, okay?’

Saeran groans. He did not sign up for this.

But then again, dealing with one drunkard is better than dealing with six.

At least that’s what he thinks until you wrap your arms around his body, snuggling closer to him. He jolts a bit, but manages to maintain his composure. You nuzzle your face into his arm, “You… smell really really nice…”

As soon as your words pass through his ears, Saeran feels his heart stop for just a moment before it starts thumping wildly in his chest for some unknown reason. He’s not really used to compliments, especially from anyone who isn’t Saeyoung. That’s got to be the reason, right? What does ‘nice’ smell like anyway? As far as he knows, there’s nothing really special about the body wash he uses.

You continue to mumble, albeit incoherently. Did you maybe fall asleep? He’s heard that some people get sleepy after they drink so maybe that’s what’s going on? If he had to choose between a loud drunk and a quiet one Saeran would definitely choose the latter. Unfortunately, since you’re using him as a pillow, he can’t leave. But it also means that he can’t be dragged away by the rest of the group.

After a couple minutes, you begin to stir. However, instead of letting go of Saeran you push against him more.

“H-hey, what are you-”

“ ‘m thirsty…” you say slowly, reaching over Saeran to grab at one of the cups on the coffee room table. Somehow, Saeran isn’t sure that the drink you’re trying to reach for is even yours. Hell, you might not even care in your drunken state. Instead of gripping the side of the cup like most people would, your fingers graze the rim before they hook around it. You pull, tilting the cup over slightly. Saeran moves to grab it, before you tilt it over, but you seem to realize your mistake and grab it correctly. You lean in closer to Saeran as you try to bring it closer to take a sip. The keyword here is try. You miss and whatever mystery liquid is in the cup spills onto Saeran.

“Hey!” he protests loudly, hoping you’ll realize and get off of him.

However, it doesn’t work.

His sudden outburst seems to have surprised you, causing you to drop the cup and it’s remaining contents onto his lap. Saeran curses loudly, and turns to glare at you, ready to give you an earful. However, his words get caught in his throat as you stare at him with teary eyes.

“I...I’m sorry….” you cry, bowing your head.

“Urgh… ah…” Saeran’s jaw tightens as he struggles to keep himself from chewing you out. Luckily, the sad puppy dog eye look you’re giving him helps mollify him a tiny bit. “Just… just be more careful next time!”

You nod. Then, after a moment, you stand up suddenly, teetering a little bit as you go. Saeran looks up at you, confused at whatever you’re about to do. Then you grab him by the hand and yank him toward the hallway.

“We gotta get you outta those clothes,” you tell him in a very serious voice.

“Uh…” While it’s true his clothes are wet from whatever was in that cup it’s not so bad that he needs to change. “It’s… fine…”

“No!” you exclaim loudly. “Ish not fine!”

Saeran sighs, unsure of what to do next. Should he bring you back to the others and let them handle you? But part of him isn’t even sure that you’ll cooperate- you seem to be pretty stubborn.

Your head swings back and forth as you look around the hallway, “Where’s yer room?”

Saeran hesitates to answer. He really doesn’t think he needs to get changed, but maybe if he does you’ll behave. Unfortunately, you’re not patient enough for him to point it out and start trying each door you come to. Saeyoung keeps a lot of the doors (even some to the closets) locked so none of them open. Saeran’s fairly sure that the first door that opens will be dubbed his room.

“It’s over here,” he finally says quietly, maneuvering around your body to guide you to the room.

“Ah! Tanks!” you say as he opens the door so you can enter. You look around the room for a second before turning back to Saeran. “Okay, now you gotta change.”

Saeran takes a step back when you move toward him, “I-I don’t need your help changing my clothes.”

You squint at him, “But I got you wet.”

“I can change myself,” Saeran asserts. You frown and he realizes that it’s probably useless trying to reason with a drunk person. He circles around you making sure to keep his distance as he moves toward the dresser on the other end of the room.

Then you leap toward him, much faster than any drunken person should ever be. Saeran realizes that you’re much stronger than you look, as you manage to pin him to the wall and wrestle his sweater off of him. You start to go for the shirt he had on underneath, but Saeran manages to stop you, grabbing you by the wrists.

“It’s not wet,” he says in a firm tone, as if he’s reprimanding a child.

You blink and stare down at him silently. Saeran starts to squirm, feeling a little uncomfortable under the scrutiny. Finally, you say, as if you’re making some kind of revelation, “It’s… not.”

Saeran sighs with relief, glad that something made it through that thick, intoxicated brain of yours. Slowly, he loosens his grip on your wrists. When you don’t reach out to resume your attempts at stripping him, he releases you entirely.

Once you’re free, he expects you to maybe back away or something. But you don’t.

You reach down and start tugging the hem of your own shirt upwards.

Saeran sputters a bit, his face reddening at the sight of your exposed skin. “Wh-what are you doing?”

“Gotta git rid of da wet clothes!” you respond a little too cheerily. Did you forget who actually got their clothes wet? Did you already forget that you had taken that person’s wet clothes off?

Saeran rushes over to stop you from stripping completely, but isn’t in time to stop you from pulling off your shirt. You start to tug at the button of your pants, but he grabs your hands once more, effectively stopping you, “Stop.”

You freeze, and slowly look up at him.

“...they aren’t wet,” Saeran repeats. He’s not sure if it’ll work again, but it’s worth a shot.

“They’re… not?”

“No.”

You look back down at yourself and squeak, “Oh…”

Saeran, once again, slowly lets go of your hands, and backs away from you. He notices your discarded shirt at his feet and reaches down to grab it. Making sure to see as little of your half naked form as possible, he looks away as he thrusts the shirt in your general direction. A second later, he feels the shirt being pulled from his grasp. He gives you a little bit of time so you can put it on. You may be drunk, but the rustling of clothes he hears must be a good sign that you’re coherent enough to dress yourself.

When he finally turns to face you he expects to see you dressed in some form.

But Saeran’s not surprised when to find the shirt bunched up around your neck like some kind of scarf. He keeps his eyes trained to the areas above your shoulders, but the knowledge that you’re still pretty exposed beneath them keeps his face nice and warm.

You blink at him. Once. Twice. Then, you ask, in a cute sounding voice, “H-help…”

Saeran stares at you and sighs. As much as this situation annoys him he can’t bring himself to tell you no. So, he slowly reaches over and carefully realigns your shirt so that it’s facing the right way. Then he gingerly reaches over to find the sleeves so that you can slip your arms through them one at a time. At that point he pulls away, figuring that you can take it from there.

You pull down the hem and give him a child like smile, “Thank you!”

Saeran’s face which had finally cooled down, flushes pink again. He turns away from you and covers his face, mumbling a ‘no problem’ between his fingers. The two of you stand there for a moment, neither sure what to do next when you both hear a loud hollering coming from the direction of the living room. Saeran looks toward the digital clock on his bedside table to find that it reads that it is exactly twelve am.

“It’s… midnight,” you say, unknowingly echoing Saeran’s thoughts. Then, after a beat you begin to tug on his shirt. “Hey!”

He ignores you at first then you start tugging harder. Finally he turns his head back to you and asks, in an annoyed tone, “What?”

You stand on your tippy toes and plop a kiss right on his lips. It’s so soft that Saeran can barely feel it, but he feels his heart stop in his chest all the same. You pull away and shoot him an innocent smile, as if you don’t realize what you just did, “Happy new year!”

Saeran merely gapes at you, face as red as can be as he tries to figure out what would make you kiss him. He opens his mouth to ask when you start to tilt forward, falling onto his chest. Saeran jolts a bit at the unexpected contact. What in the world are you doing now?

He reaches to grab you by the shoulders, ready to demand answers only to find that you’ve passed out. He tries to shake you a little bit to see if you’ll wake up but no dice. 

He’ll just have to wait and ask when you wake up.

If you even remember, that is.