#//And stocking plenty of those too; so she can have tea on her own time

[dutybcrne]

No thoughts, only thinkings of Sigewinne absolutely Hating the first tea she ever tried and Wrios going through every kind he can find until he’s found one they BOTH can enjoy to share in teatime

[clareguilty]

Coal Fires and Snowstorms

This was a request fic that was originally for the Overwatch cowboy but I changed to Arthur Morgan for... apparent reasons Arthur Morgan/F!Reader (reader also has big enby vibes) Rating: Mature | No Warnings Word Count: ~2,200

Arthur wakes with a wheeze, bolting upright and smacking his chest with his fist as he tries to pull in enough air.

He’s shirtless, but a woven blanket had been draped over him while he was unconscious. A ray of light cuts through a grimy window. The angle is harsh enough that it’s probably late in the evening.

The last thing Arthur can remember is the dark of the night and the clamoring of the law on his heels. So he’s been out for at least a day.

His lips are dry and cracked, and his muscles groan in protest with every movement. God, his head is pounding like he was hit by a damn train.

A door creaks open, and there’s a squeak of surprise. “Oh! You’re awake!”

Arthur blinks in the harsh sunlight that’s streaming into the small cabin. Whoever is there is bundled up in furs and a jacket with a bow over their shoulder. They’ve got two armfuls of game practically swallowing them.

“Who are you? Where am I?” He means for it to sound rough and demanding, but it’s more croaky and pathetic when the words pass his lips.

“I’m not really anybody, and this is my cabin up in Cumberland. The law chased you a long ways from Annesburg didn’t they? You must have done something real bad.” The hunter dumps all the game onto the table and rushes to the bedroll where Arthur lays. “You aren’t hurt too bad or nothing, but you’ve got a real nasty cough. I’ve got tea and herbs that should help. I bandaged up all the bleeding bits as best I could”

Arthur is bewildered. He knows there had been a fire in Annesburg -- the coal had gone up in a pyre in seconds. Somehow, he had gotten separated from Dutch and the others. The smoke had taken him like crows to a carcass, and he was lucky to make it across the ridge with the way his eyes and lungs were burning.

The last thing he remembered was the pinkertons still on his heels and the darkness of the trees as he tried to hide in the brush. He must have made it to cover before the smoke and the soot finally got him.

He flinches as the hunter sticks an open flask under his nose. “Tea. It’s bitter but you’ll need it.”

Arthur sniffs the mouth of the flask, but it sure does just smell like weeds and water. He takes a sip and wrinkles his nose. But the flavor is a small price to pay for the way the liquid soothes the burning in his mouth and throat.

“Thank you,” he says. “You could have left me in those woods to rot. I appreciate you dragging my sorry ass back here.”

You grin and pat the bandage on his arm. “It weren’t much trouble, but you sure are one large fella.” Arthur thinks you must be a young boy -- it’s hard to tell. Your hair is short under your cap but your voice isn’t all that low.

You turn to the game on the table and grab a knife from your belt. “I hunted enough for the both of us the next few days. It’s gonna be a while before you’ve got your strength back, and a snowstorm is rolling in off the Grizzlies anyways.”

Arthur frowns. “Bit early for snow, isn’t it?”

You shrug. “Winter never listens to me. At least the game was out. Everyone is trying to feed as much as they can before it gets too cold to hunt. That includes us.”

Arthur grunts and struggles to his feet. “I can help with those,” he offers.

You watch him with narrowed eyes, obviously skeptical of Arthur’s strength. “Take the small ones,” you offer up the rabbits and squirrels.

Arthur usually doesn’t have a problem skinning game, but the smoke must have gotten to him more than he thought because he finds himself having to take a rest after just a few minutes. He finishes off the flask of tea and sorts through his pack and weapons.

“My horse…” he asks after a while.

“She’s fine,” you say. “I found her not far from where you were unconscious and she helped me get you back here. She’s out back with my Old Girl.”

“Thank you,” Arthur sounds genuinely touched. “She really means a lot to me.”

You shoot him another smile. “You’re nothing but a big softie, ain’t ya? What could you have done to have the law chasing you all the way across the damn country?”

Arthur rubs the back of his neck, flushing in embarrassment. “My folks might have blown up Annesburg? I don’t actually know how much of it is left…”

“Ha!” you bark. “You’re with them van der Linde folks?”

Arthur’s silence is answer enough.

“I won’t judge,” you shrug. “You’re safe as long as you want to rest here.”

And rest Arthur does. He’s confined to the bedroll, rolled out on a warm pile of furs near the stove. You’re good company, witty and friendly and far too nosy for your own good. Arthur learns that you’ve has been living in these parts for a few years now, trapping and hunting and crafting to sell in town every few weeks. It’s more of a living than Arthur could ever ask for. Arthur thinks he might be sweet on you.

It’s another day before he’s got the strength to walk. He makes it outside to his horse, glad to see that she’s well taken care of. You had said you were going off to bathe in a nearby stream, and Arthur follows the sound of the water.

He’s not expecting what he finds. The water is shallow but fast moving, and he sees a familiar jacket hung on a branch by the bank.

You’re turned away, rinsing in the ice cold water, and Arthur can see the gooseflesh on your skin.

But when you turn slightly, it’s the swell of breasts and the curve of hips that catches Arthur’s attention. He averts his eyes quickly, darting back towards the cabin with his cheeks stained pink.

Now that he thinks about it, you had never said that you were a man. Arthur had simply figured it was most likely. The soft voice and gentle features make more sense now.

“You had better wash up if you want to,” you say when you return to the cabin. “The snow is coming in tonight. I can smell it. I stocked up on herbs for your cough and we’ve got plenty of provisions. I’m gonna split some more wood to bring inside.”

Arthur can’t help but find it attractive that you’re so knowledgeable and well prepared. He makes his way to the stream on his own and washes up in the frigid water, pushing through another coughing fit when the cold makes his muscles seize.

It’s already getting colder when he gets back inside. His weak breath fogs even inside the cabin and the little stove can’t do nearly enough to warm the small space.

“You’re going to freeze,” he tells you. He’s big enough to handle the cold -- spent a damn month up in the grizzlies without much of a problem -- but you surely won’t last the snowstorm.

“I’ve made it before,” you say with a huff and a glare. “I’ve got plenty of furs to keep me warm.”

“Put your bedroll beside mine,” Arthur insists. “We can share the blankets.”

The snow begins to fall, sticking to the ground in wet clumps, and you brace yourselves for the days to come. You’re practically strangers -- save for the fact that you had dragged Arthur out of the woods and saved his life. Now you have no choice but to rely on each other until the snow melts.

Arthur wakes in the night to your violent shivering under the blankets. He pulls you so that you’re pressed against his chest, tucking both of you under the quilts closer together. “I thought you said you’d made it through this before?”

You huff, teeth chattering. “I survived. I never said I kept warm.”

“Stay close to me. It’s my turn to keep you alive.” He drifts back to sleep to the howl of the winter winds.

The next morning he’s greeted by a bowl of piping stew that makes his sinuses burn. “I had some jarred peppers I keep for weather just like this. You’re in no condition for liquor so this is the best you’re gonna get.”

Arthur accepts the stew graciously. He’s not ready for the way you stand on your tippy toes to kiss him on the cheek when he offers to wash both of the bowls.

You pass the time snowed in with several rounds of cards. Arthur tells stories about him and the gang until his throat aches and he starts coughing again, and so the you regale Arthur with your life’s tale and a few stories you picked up over the years. You’re curled up next to each other in front of the stove, and you have no shame about burrowing against Arthur in a quest for body heat. He lets you steal as much as you want.

“I thought you were a boy when I first woke up,” Arthur says.

You shrug. “Most people do. I find it makes things easier a lot of the time. How’d you figure me out?” You don’t seem to feel too strongly one way or another about how Arthur and others see you.

Arthur hides his embarrassment behind a cough. “I, uh, caught you washing up in the stream.”

“Oh,” you laugh, “that’s pretty solid proof, ain’t it.” You’re smiling, not shy at all. “You’re not mad at me for lying, are you?”

“You never lied,” Arthur says. “I just came to my own conclusions. Doesn’t matter much to me anyways, whether you’re a man or a woman.”

You frown at that. “Doesn’t matter?”

“Nah,” Arthur ruffles your short hair. “You’re cute either way.”

It’s the right thing to say. The frown disappears and you settle back against him, humming contentedly.

He wakes in the night to the feeling of your breath on his neck. You shift and your lips brush against his skin. He can’t help the way his whole body tenses at the sensation. His arm is draped around your waist, holding you close because he knows you’ll freeze if he doesn’t.

He pulls you in closer. Every inch where your skin touches his feels oversensitive and hot. You’re still asleep -- he can tell from how slow you breath against his skin, but you reach an arm around his neck and burrow against him.

His heart begins to race. He’s flushed and half asleep and you fit against him so well in this tiny cabin that you’ve made your home. One of his hands slides down your back. You moan as his palm passes over the small of your back and the curve of your ass. His hand comes to the back of your thigh, but you shift again and rock your hips against him.

He gasps, then has to fight back a cough. He doesn’t want to wake you, but your quest for warmth has you plastered against him in a very compromising position. It’s starting to make his long johns downright painful, and he thinks he’ll combust in shame.

You rock against him once more, mumbling sleepily into his skin.

“Darlin’” he croaks. But the sound doesn’t wake you. He tries to wriggle an arm between you so he can push you off, but instead he winds up with a handful of your breast, and the most gorgeous sound he’s ever heard escapes your lips.

He freezes. He’s painfully hard now, and you’re still gently rocking against him in your sleep, perhaps even more so now that he’s got a hand on your chest.

“Arthur, please,” you whine.

He’s pretty sure you’re awake by now, so he readjusts his hand and rubs his thumb over the peak of your nipple. You let out another breathy moan against his skin. This time when he runs a hand over your ass he lets himself take a moment to appreciate how it feels under his palm, they way his fingers sink into the soft skin beneath your winter sleep clothes. He once again places his hand on the back of your thigh and pulls you so that your hips are lined up with his, straddling him under the blankets.

You whine against him once more and grind your hips downward. The friction does way more for him than he imagines it must for you, and his vision whites out momentarily at the heat and weight of you against him.

He loses himself in the motion of your hips for several long moments, but then your whines grow frustrated and unsatisfied and he knows exactly what your after.

Gripping both of your hips tightly, he flips you both so that you’re laying back on the bedroll and he’s kneeling over you.

Your eyes fly open.

“Arthur?”

“You were asleep?” he looks absolutely bewildered.

“I thought so? I was having the best dream.” Your eyes look past him as you remember.

“I don’t think you were dreaming, sweetheart,” he chuckles. He leans in to place an open mouthed kiss against your neck. You gasp and dig your nails into his shoulder.

“Then I think you had better keep going, cowboy.”

[hobie-brown]

thinking of kh characters just....settling down for once. having peaceful rests of their lives.

the sea salt trio maybe try to spruce up the abandoned mansion, their mission for the summer and then just...their house. trying to make better memories of that dusty mess than what they got; they tear down the white room, completely remodel the basement. its especially therapeutic for roxas to dig his keyblade into the wood of the mansion floors that rest above where Diz kept Sora. what used to be broken down and uninviting becomes a home big enough for all of their friends to camp over in, whenever they need. The only room that stays mostly unchanged outside of its floor is the library, since Xion loves to read.

roxas still does odd jobs around town, with a growing collection of decks and skateboards to boot. many a neighbor has entrusted him with watering their plants, delivering their mail, generally just being of help where he can. maybe he even ropes xion into some of his dogwalking jobs. he is especially loved by the young kids who learned how to do kickflips and ollies from him, who ask him to play ball in the street when he has the freetime. his most steady job is helping that sweet old shopkeep lady keep up on stocking and cleaning/making sure her cat doesn't run off again. (He learned he's not cut out for customer service the hard way)

xion takes the train to the beach most days. she likes the ride itself and the destination. one gives her time to think and the other gives her space to breathe. her room is filled with little seashells, seashells that sometimes spill over into the boys' rooms or the kitchen or the closet. They find shells everywhere-she's just got a knack for picking out ones with the most intricate swirls and colors. it's gotten to the point where Olette helps her make something out of them. Plenty of twilight town locals can be seen dawning thoughtful bracelets all with their own personal touch and the destiny trio all have necklaces unlike any other shells on their original island. and most importantly: she finally gets a dog.

lea is the lazybones of the group, spending most of his time just relaxing in the forest, napping on the clocktower, bothering Isa at his job, or being the most obnoxious/loudest spectator at struggle matches. the original tournament hoster eventually gets just fed up enough with his backseat driver that he promotes Lea to a coach. And he's good at it: something about teaching kids the sport clicks for him the same way mentoring Roxas and Xion back in the org did. even if some of his advice is a little underhanded/sly. he's learning to love the little things and to live for himself, no strings attached.

isa doesn't live with them, maybe still a little too guilt-ridden about his treatment of them all to ever be ready for that, but he does visit. often. very often. even if the trek from across twilight town and into the sewers does disgust him theres not a day that goes by where he doesnt come around with prepped meals. after all, he picked up a job at the Bistro w/little chef-so he's learned some things and he makes sure Lea and Roxas and Xion are eating. More than just sea salt ice cream, anyway. Hayner, Pence and Olette take care of him in turn. Its nice having coworkers who couldn't potentially stab him in the back at any moment for a change. Scrooge hounds him all the same and it amuses Lea to no end that Isa lets himself get picked on by a literal duck.

namine cant force herself to live where Diz still haunts her and sometimes Lea and Isa still make her uneasy but she stays close by, renting out an apartment in the center of twilight town. all her days are spent making art and drawing from life: there is so much beauty to pull from. The kids running around the outside theatre, the elderly couple who invite her over for tea on their little rooftop balcony, the people, the buildings, the trains and the roads, the light that is everywhere in their world. things she never got to look at properly when she first lived there. shes teaching roxas how to draw but her friend's sketchbook is filled mostly with chicken scratch. for all his weapon coordination he never got a chance to develop strong writing/penmanship skills in the org. they're all working on filling those sort of gaps, together.

they still talk about keyblades and divided worlds and heartless. they have to. but most of their old wounds are truly old-and they're trying to find out what life is meant to be like for normal people.

[tinydooms]

I am so sorry to hear about your situation, I hope you are otherwise doing well. May I please request a prompt for Evie and Rick having a reading day (specifically set right after the first film, so they still are a little awkward around each other but still love and trust one another... I don't know, what ever you write, I love, so hopefully this gave you some inspiration but take it where you please :))

Thank you for your kind words! It's been a hell of a week, but I'm finally feeling better. Here is your fic: I hope you like it!

Cairo, October 1922

Evie woke up from her nap slowly, coming up out of deep sleep to find her Fort Brydon bedroom full of afternoon sunlight. The ceiling fan hummed overhead; the apartment was quiet save for the soft sound. Evie stretched, relishing the pull of her muscles and the softness of the bed beneath her. It was good to be back.

Her stomach gurgled and with a sigh, she sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Time for tea. Hot tea, and lots of it, and maybe a sandwich or three. She was starving. There was nothing like roughing it in the desert to bring one’s attention to the blessings of home and a fully-stocked larder. Would the men be hungry? Probably. She had left Rick and Jonathan to their own devices after Dr. Wilkinson had looked them all over earlier that day; he had prescribed plenty of water and rest after their long, hot trek back from Hamunaptra. Opening her bedroom door, Evie looked around for the men. Jonathan’s bedroom door was closed; he was probably napping. Rick was where Evie had left him earlier, lying on his cot by the window with a couple of ice packs soothing his cracked ribs, head cushioned on a stack of pillows, a book in hand. He looked up as she came into the room.

“Hey,” Rick said, flashing her that sideways smile. “Did you have a good sleep?”

“Yes, thanks,” Evie said. “What are you reading?”

Rick waved the book at her. “Ah, Persuasion. I went through your bookshelf; I hope you don’t mind.”

Evie blinked. “You’re reading Persuasion?”

“Yeah, I’ve heard it’s one of Austen’s best and I didn’t feel like reading anything related to ancient curses. I’d only read her other one--I don’t remember the title in English--Orgueil et préjugés--the one where they despise each other at first because her family is obnoxious and he’s really shy and arrogant.” Rick lifted an eyebrow at the look on Evie’s face. “I do know how to read, you know.”

She realized that she was gaping at him, open-mouthed. Shame boiled up in Evie; of course he knew how to read. “I’m sorry. I just meant, I didn’t have you down as the type to read social satire.”

She hadn’t had him down as the type to read, period, but then, Rick had mentioned liking Arsène Lupin and Sherlock Holmes, hadn’t he? And there had been a couple of books in his suitcase last night, when she looked through it for clothes to lay out for him.

Rick grinned. "It’s okay, Evelyn. I know what I look like. We’re still getting to know each other.” He shifted, laying the book down on his stomach. “Actually, I really like reading. I’ve made it a point throughout my life to maintain membership at whatever public libraries are available.”

This was new and intriguing information. Evie sat down in the armchair and curled her legs under her.

“What sort of things do you like to read about?”

Rick cocked his head, thinking. “Honestly? I’ll read just about anything as long as I can understand it. I like detective novels and adventure stories, though I think I’m going to go off those for a while.” They grinned at each other. “I read a lot of art history books before the War, and I like a good popular history. I’m not educated; I only went to school through the eighth grade. Maybe if my mom hadn’t died, I’d have finished high school and gone to college, but, well…”

He shrugged. Life hadn’t worked out that way.

“But you read,” Evie said. “My mother used to say that anyone can learn anything they like if they are willing to read about it.”

Rick nodded. “My mom used to say something like that, too. She absolutely refused to let me quit school and get a job in a factory, even though it would have helped.” A shadow passed over his face; Evie saw him push it away. “Would you like something to eat?” he said, rising up on his elbows. “Your stomach is rumbling.”

“Oh! Yes, I’d come out for tea,” Evie said, scrambling to her feet. “Don’t get up; you’re supposed to be resting.”

Rick blinked. “I’ve been resting all day. It doesn’t hurt as bad as it did, you know.”

“Still.” Evie bustled off towards the kitchen. “You’ve looked after me so well these past weeks, it’s time for me to return the favor. Would you like a sandwich? How do you take your tea?”

Rick sat up, moving slowly. “Strong, with milk and a little honey, if you’ve got it. Thanks.”

Evie smiled at him; he smiled back. She bustled around the little kitchen, setting the kettle to boil and making up sandwiches, and when everything was ready she carried it through to the table and held out a hand to help Rick up. He took it, looking at her in a way that made her blush, and followed her to the table.

“Thank you,” he said, looking from the plate of sandwiches to Evie. “All this, I don’t-- Thank you.”

Evie smiled at him again; again, he smiled back, and for a moment they stood grinning foolishly at each other. It was all so new, this togetherness, this friendship. Funny how one could learn everything there was to know about a person’s character by their actions, and still know hardly anything about them as a person. Evie gestured for Rick to sit, and they fell on the sandwiches.

“So tell me,” Rick said after they had spent a few minutes quietly eating. “What’s your favorite book? Besides the Book of Amun-Ra. I’m sorry about that, by the way. Jonathan didn’t mean to drop it.”

“I know.” A pang flashed through Evie as she remembered the splash the book had made as it hit the water in the crypt’s brackish pool. “But we made it out with our lives, and we have all of the rubbings and sketches we made before we, er, raised him, so it’s not a complete loss. And as to your question…” She sipped her tea, thinking. “Do you mean favorite novel or favorite book? Because I’m not sure I can pick just one.”

“Top three, then.” Rick leaned on his elbow, watching her with the same interest he had shown at Hamunaptra. Evie felt herself blushing. She could get used to this.

“Well, then, I would probably have to say Professor Walter Emerson’s book on hieroglyphics, since it was a huge influence on me when I was a child; Flinders Petrie’s book Naukratis, and well, Persuasion.”

Rick grinned. “Which is why it was here, among all the books on Egyptology.”

“Quite.” Evie brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. She hadn’t bothered to pin her hair up. “What about you?”

Rick sat back, cradling his teacup in his big, strong hands. “I’d say my favorite book is Around the World in Eighty Days. I have a sentimental attachment to it; it was my favorite as a kid. I’ve read it in the original French, but I like the English translation better. But if I had a top three…” He paused to sip, thinking. “I don’t know, actually. I really like Edgar Rice Burroughs’ Tarzan and John Carter books, and I like Rudyard Kipling. I read a lot of Dickens after Gallipoli; they had his complete works at the hospital my regiment was sent to afterwards.”

“You were injured?”

“No.” A shadow passed through Rick’s eyes. “I mean, yes, I got shot in the side, but it was more a flesh wound than anything else. No, they sent us to rest and recuperate before going back to battle. It was a good break.”

He put the teacup down and reached for the pot. Evie hastened to lift it and refill. She brushed Rick’s hand as she scooted the milk jug towards him. He had such beautiful hands.

“I’ve never read Dickens,” she admitted, and he gave her a surprised look. “His writing never grabbed my attention,” she added. “I was much more interested in ancient stories than modern ones.”

“You don’t say.” Rick looked amused. “And you, a librarian. Is that what you got your degree in?”

“Library science? No, I did that afterwards. I, er, I studied Classics and Antiquity at university.”

Rick shifted his hands on the table, moving them close enough to tap the back of Evie’s hand. “Tell me.”

“You don’t mind that I went to university?”

The question leaped out before she could stop it, the tiny insecurity that Evie had always carried deep inside her and only rarely acknowledged. So many men were threatened by academic women. Rick looked astonished.

“Why would I mind that you went to university?” he asked. “Everybody should have the chance to go to university. I’d have loved to go to college. And anyway, of course you’re educated, I mean, look at you. With everything that’s happened the last few weeks, we’d all have died if you hadn’t known exactly what to do and how to read those hieroglyphs and all.”

“I know. It’s just...academic women are...frowned upon by society,” she said. “And I know we met in extraordinary circumstances, but I’ve never...You don’t think I’m ridiculous?”

Rick shook his head. “Nah, Evie, I’m crazy about you.”

And the little flame of her worry flickered and died. Evie smiled at him, folded her fingers around his. Rick squeezed her hand and raised it to his lips. They were going to be just fine.

[amerrierworld]

It Changes

for the request: pre-canon dom!Carol and Abby

Summary: Carol invites Abby to spend the night while Harge is away on a business trip.

Characters: flashback!Carol x Abby, present!Carol x Therese

Word Count: 1,498

Warnings: smut! cheating, cause pre-divorce Carol, obv

Carol was perplexed as she shook hands with Abby’s new redhead girlfriend. Not because she didn’t expect Abby to hold a relationship down, but because it was sudden, serious, and Abby was entirely besotted. 

Now Jacqueline was a part of their intimate little friend group, and Carol was startled by how well she got on with them so quickly. 

“Don’t fret,” Therese murmured, wrapping her arms around her middle from behind as they stood outside in the cool evening air. 

“I’m not,” Carol huffed, “it's just a surprise, is all. Abby hasn’t been in a relationship this serious since.. well.”

Therese pressed a kiss against her shoulder and said, “Abby isn’t leaving you, Carol. She’s still your best friend.”

Carol chewed her lip, doubt filling her mind.

“I haven’t been the greatest best friend to Abby, dearest. I wouldn’t blame her if she did. And now that she’s got someone.. else.. why wouldn’t she take that chance?”

“Well, don’t you think she might have felt the same way when I came into your life?” 

Carol stilled a little, and her shoulders relaxed in sudden understanding, “I didn't think of it that way.”

Therese hugged her a little tighter, “she’s not going anywhere, and neither am I. No one’s leaving you, not ever again.”

Carol smiled, putting her hand on top of Therese’s, rubbing the chill away. 

-

six years earlier..

“We can’t j-just..”

“Want you,” Carol growled, hands pressing into Abby’s skin, “want you now.”

“Just a minute!” Abby half-laughed, pulling away from Carol to see her best friend pouting dramatically. Her blonde hair was falling out of its perfect curls, and Abby tutted, smoothing the wrinkles in her collar with deft fingers.  

She had barely pushed through the door when the blonde had pounced on her, kissing and sucking, smudging her makeup almost immediately. 

“You promised dinner,” Abby poked her, “and I came here, starving, so don’t think I’m crawling into your bed until I’ve had a good, proper meal.”

“What if I said I was the meal,” Carol grinned, pulling her close by the waist again. Abby looked up at her with those scolding brown eyes and Carol sighed.

“Alright, alright.”

She let go and the two of them headed to the kitchen, where Carol pulled out some left overs from last night’s dinner and bustled about for plates and cutlery. Abby made a pot of tea and sat down at the table to watch Carol flit around with a frilly kitchen apron over her skirt.

“How do you deal with this place, Carol?” Abby sighed, glancing around the massive mansion, “it seems so big and boring. Don’t you get tired of being home alone all the time?”

“Oh, no, it really isn’t that bad. Honestly, I’m glad Harge gives me some space,” Carol said with a huff, “we’ve been talking about getting a housekeeper for some time. Might be nice, have a fresh face around, you know?”

Abby eyed her cautiously, but nothing seemed to be amiss as she mentioned her hot-headed and burly husband. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” she asked, hands wrapping around the steaming mug.

“Let’s not,” Carol sighed, her back still turned to Abby. The brunette chewed her lip and nodded silently, a mutual understanding hanging in the air. Carol never did enjoy talking about such touchy topics, no matter how long the two women had known each other. 

But they got out of the silence hanging in the air; they always did,

“Help me with the vegetables?” Carol asked. 

Abby was familiar enough with the house, knew where the pots where, knew where to find an extra apron. She chopped diligently as Carol chatted about Jeanette’s dinner invitations for next week, wondering what she should wear.

“What about your grey dress?” Abby suggested as she reached up the cupboards to grab the salt and pepper.

“Hm, but I wore that last time,” Carol retorted.

“Oh, I doubt they’ll notice,” Abby chuckled, bumping Carol’s hip with her own, “you’re far too fashionable for that lot.”

“Abby!” Carol chastised, with a twinkle in her eye, “they’re my friends. You know, you’d like them if you gave them a chance.”

“Hardly. They’d only let me into your little club if I had some handsome businessman of a husband. You and I both know that’s not going to happen.”

She stepped up behind Carol as she put the potatoes and chicken in the oven and wrapped her arms around her waist.

“Don’t be a tease,” Carol groaned as her hands began wandering, “I promised we’d eat first.”

“Hmm, yeah, but if we’re quick we can kill some time while this cooks,” Abby grinned, “I’m suddenly in the mood when I saw you bend over just now.”

Carol tutted with a smirk and turned around, grabbing the back of her neck and pulling her in for a firm kiss. Abby nipped at her lip.

They barely made it to the couch, ripping off clothes as they went. Carol’s lips wrapped around a nipple before Abby’s back hit the cushions and she groaned deeply, her hands pulling at the blonde curls. 

“Better be quick if we wanna beat the oven,” Carol muttered devilishly, “you know how much I hate burnt chicken.”

“Oh, fuck,” Abby gasped as fingers wriggled their way past the fabrics and zippers to firmly cup her sex.

“Language,” Carol chastised.

“Shut it, Ross,” Abby grumbled. Carol pushed her skirt up to bunch around her hips, settling in between them, hot and heavy. Her perfume was heavy and musky and made Abby’s head spin.

Her blouse got caught around her wrists, her skirt stayed bunched up and her stockings were pulled down barely to her knees. It was always like this. Hurried, messy, desperate yet loving.

Carol always pulled the curtains closed before Abby arrived, and there were long shadows cast throughout the living room from the lamps that burned dimly. 

Briefly, Abby wondered if she had actually seen Carol naked, fully, in the bright lights of her bedroom. But that thought quickly escaped her when a cool hand pressed against her cunt underneath the fabrics and skirts. 

Abby gasped, back arching. She pulled at Carol’s dress, unzipping it only half in the back. It drooped forward and she pulled her arms around, revealing creamy shoulders and nipples pebbling through her bra. 

She barely had time to cup one breast and pull Carol close for a hard kiss when the blonde slipped inside and began a brutal pace. Abby’s eyes rolled back with a groan, her pleasure spiking quickly, intensely. 

Sweat was collecting along her hairline and her heartbeat was racing. She pinched Carol’s nipple in retort from getting her so riled up so quickly, and Carol grinned, leaning over her, one foot still planted on the floor to give her a solid foundation as her arm worked rapidly and brutally.

“Carol!” Abby shrieked, fingers digging into her best friend’s shoulders as a sharp and deep orgasm exploded from inside her.

She laid there, impressed that Carol was able to follow through with her suggestion to make it quick. The blonde looked down at her fondly.

“God..” Abby groaned, feeling the silk fabric of her blouse sticking to her skin already.

“Hey, you wanted it. I just wanted to be a good hostess.”

Abby slapped her on the hand and as if on cue, the timer went off with a shrill. For a moment Abby jerked up, mistaking it for the doorbell, but Carol held her down and nuzzled her neck. 

“We can’t let it burn,” Abby protested weakly, trying to worm out from Carol’s grip.

“No,” Carol said, nearly whining as she tried to pull away.

“Oh, don’t be such a baby, I’m staying the night, remember? You’ve got plenty of time after we eat. I don’t fancy passing out in your bed because of malnourishment.”

Carol pouted, watching as Abby straightened her clothes, and shuffled into the kitchen without her shoes.

“Come on, slowpoke! You were supposed to be feeding me, not the other way around.”

Carol relented, and they took their plates back to the couch, legs wrapped together.

“If you spill anything on my couch I’ll tie you to the bed and you’ll never be allowed to leave,” Carol wagged her fork at her best friend, who stuck out her tongue in response.

“What should we do tomorrow?”

“Oh, I don’t know. We can sleep in, if you'd like. Harge isn’t coming back until late.”

Abby nodded quietly, prodding at her chicken.

“What’s the matter?” 

“Nothing,” Abby said, a tad too quickly. “Nothing you need to worry about.”

Carol raised an eyebrow, and shuffled closer, slipping her foot out of her heel and running toes up Abby’s calf.

“Anything I can help with?” she pressed, voice low, “maybe provide a.. distraction?”

“Carol..” Abby began, but a warm mouth was kissing up her neck and she whimpered softly, pushing her lukewarm plate away and grabbing Carol’s blouse.

“Make it quick.”

A/N: :D writing again!

[ruthiswriting]

heart line

mp100 | serirei, reigen arataka, serizawa katsuya, kageyama ‘mob’ shigeo, AU, 6k | on ao3

It doesn’t really matter, he reminds himself. He’s making a change, just like all of Reigen’s clients. What’s on his hands isn’t set in stone. He just has to make sure Reigen doesn’t see it— even if it might feel nice to have that steady attention, Reigen’s hands that are so much nicer than Serizawa’s folding around his. 

(or: Reigen starts offering palm readings as a service, leading to Serizawa having to confront his feelings for his boss.)

this is pretty fluffy, only real tw is some self deprecating depression thoughts from seri.

-

One day, when he comes into work, Serizawa sees Reigen industriously spreading a new poster on the wall, next to the monthly specials.

“Oi, Serizawa,” Reigen says, head half turning, first in acknowledgment, then in focused interest. “Come help me finish putting up this poster— I can’t get the last corner. Or well, I could,” he allows, stepping away from the wall as Serizawa approaches, “but I don’t want to get the step ladder out of the storage closet, it’s always such a damn pain to dig it out. You had really good timing, you know…”

Serizawa comes in at the same time every day, so he hardly thinks it counts as good timing, but he doesn’t say anything. Reigen passes over a thumbtack that he’s been holding between his teeth— a terrible habit, one that always makes Serizawa’s stomach start doing awful twists when he sees him doing it— and Serizawa takes it, stepping to the wall.

The poster’s half up already, it’s really just this one corner that’s a bit awkward to get to behind one of Reigen’s potted plants. He smooths the corner out, hesitant, and carefully pushes the tack in.

“A little up,” Reigen directs from behind him, and even though Serizawa can’t see him he can feel the way Reigen’s head tilts to look under Serizawa’s stretched arm. “It needs to be straightened out— ah, the other side’s falling out, can you get that too? Serizawa! The bookshelf, watch it.”

After a few more tweaks, Serizawa finally manages to pin it to the wall in a way that satisfies Reigen. Serizawa runs two fingers over the slightly wrinkled corner— he can’t remember if it was already slightly bent, and he swallows nervously. But if Reigen notices, he doesn’t say anything, humming appreciatively. “Right. This’ll be good, people will walk in and see it with the monthly specials.” He stops, hands drumming on his hips. “Unless it should go on the far wall, while they’re sitting during the consultation? It works well as an add on, so maybe if they see it there it’ll drive more sales…”

Serizawa’s slowly processing the actual contents of the poster as Reigen hems and haws to himself. The center of the poster’s occupied with a giant stock photo hand, with arrows helpfully pointing to different creases and hills in the flat palm. A nauseating array of colors pinwheel around it, making it difficult to look away from once your gaze has drifted to it. PALM READINGS, the banner across the top screams out. LEARN ABOUT YOUR LIFE, LOVE, AND FORTUNE. Then, explosions of price points decorate the bottom.

Belatedly, he realizes he saw Reigen working on the poster yesterday during a slow hour in the office— slowly dragging together clip art in a way that he found appealing. Serizawa had avoided asking questions, since Reigen would then want his opinion on the poster, and Serizawa didn’t have the slightest clue about anything to do with design. Now, he could actually understand the poster for what it was.

“No, better to leave it here,” Reigen decides, bringing Serizawa out of his reverie. “Now, I’ve just got to add it to the website.” He sighs, scratching his cheek. “Damn builder’s always so tedious to fiddle with.”

“I didn’t know you could read palms, Reigen-san,” Serizawa says, still staring at the poster.

“Hm? Oh, yeah, I read a couple articles about it over the weekend,” Reigen says, starting back to his desk. Then he half turns back, adding, “when you get to my level, it’s easy to pick up this kind of stuff, you know— it’s good to buff out your skills, too. Sort of…” He spins a hand in the air as he thinks. “Expanding your resume.”

Serizawa nods. This makes sense to him. To Serizawa, Reigen’s never had much of a recognizable aura— or really, he thinks privately, any recognizable ability at all. But he has a very long list of clients, successful exorcisms, and the attention of the most powerful psychic that Serizawa knows, besides maybe the president. Not to mention the entirety of CLAW’s former 7th Division’s admiration and respect. All of those people can’t be wrong, Serizawa reasons, so it must just be something that he’s missing. Serizawa misses a lot of things. And as Reigen’s repeatedly told him, his powers are just more spiritual, so him picking up a new ability with some light reading seems perfectly reasonable. “One of my classmates talk about learning coding a lot, since that’s good to have on a resume,” he says. “So it’s kind of like that, maybe.”

“Well,” Reigen pulls a face as he drops into his desk chair. “That’s a different kind of resume.” He swivels to his computer. “While I’m updating the website, Serizawa, can you look at the client list for the day?”

Serizawa hastens to look at the digital calendar that Reigen’s set up on his phone. “There’s a consultation in the morning, at ten,” he says. “Two massages in the afternoon… An exorcism at four.” Serizawa will be gone by then. Kageyama will be assisting with that exorcism— Reigen’s marked that on the calendar too, although Serizawa’s not sure Mob’s once looked at the calendar Reigen constantly refers to.

Reigen’s practically rattling the keyboard with the force of his typing. “Plenty of down time today, then,” he said. “I’ll be able to get this set up no problem.”

“Reigen-san,” Serizawa begins, awkward. “Should I…” Reigen’s stopped his punitive typing to stare at him, which always makes Serizawa’s words begin to stutter. He clears his throat and tries again. “To better assist the clients. Should I learn about palmistry, too?”

He doesn’t know why he asks. Most of the questions he asks feel pointless as soon as he says them, and this one’s ridiculousness is heightened by the way Reigen frowns. “If you want to,” he says, tone implying he’s not sure why Serizawa would. “I was planning on handling it, since it’s mostly interfacing with the clients, and you’re still getting comfortable there, but I wouldn’t stop you.”

Serizawa can’t stop the way his shoulders sink, and hurriedly, Reigen adds, “you’re doing fine, Serizawa— I’m glad you’ve got the initiative to ask about it. But I know you’re busy with your studies, so I didn’t want to take up your time unnecessarily. You’re already a great asset to the business.”

Again, Serizawa wants to protest, to say that really he should be doing so much more for Reigen than brewing tea and exorcising stray ghosts. But he shouldn’t argue with his boss, so he just nods, swallowing all of his words.

It only takes a few days for someone to take Reigen up on new special— a jittery looking college student with spectacles twice the size of her eyes. She comes about a necklace that she inherited from her recently deceased grandmother. Serizawa can’t see anything on it, and Reigen smoothly steps in to handle it. As he shreds rock salt over it and kept up a stream of gentle questions about her grandmother, the girl’s eyes roams over the wall, and she asks about the palm reading. Within seconds, Reigen has the lights dimmed, incense candles in Serizawa’s hands that are apparently his responsibility to light.

Reigen sits on the edge of his seat, face serious as he looks down into her upturned palm. She watches him with wide eyes. “It’s not so much that your palms determine your fate,” he explains to her, voice taking on a knowing, mystic quality. “It’s more that they’re a microcosm of reality… The big’s encapsulated in the small.” He draws one of his fingers along a crease in her fingers, barely a ghosting pressure.

As Serizawa struggles with the candles, the match in his hand finally catches, and the light blooms across her face. The beginning of a blush is striping across her nose.

“This is your head line,” Reigen says. Then his finger moves across another web. “Your heart line. Your fate line. And your life line.” For this last designation, his finger curves across the base of her thumb and comes to rest against her wrist.

“The life line,” she says, eyes wide. “I heard once that if you have a short life line, that means that you’ll die young.”

Discreetly, Serizawa peeks at his own palm, but he can’t track what any of the mess of creases are supposed to be when transposed onto his own hand. “Not necessarily,” Reigen says, shaking his head. “Your life line has more to do with your vitality. If it’s short or shallow, that’s not necessarily bad, but it might mean you need to make a change.” Reigen’s mouth draws into a frown. “…Have you been feeling disconnected from the people around you?”

“That’s exactly it,” she says, voice a relieved rush. “It’s been so hard, ever my grandmother died…”

The conversation streams on past Serizawa. He watches as Reigen gives her advice, her hand still resting comfortably between Reigen’s long fingers.

The palm readings only happen occasionally, but Reigen seems satisfied enough with their performance— like he said, it’s a nice add on. But on days when someone asks for one, they cling to Serizawa’s mind the entire train ride to his night classes.

Regardless of Serizawa’s perception of Reigen’s aura, he proves himself as a natural when he sits down with a client for a palm reading. No matter what he says, they always gasp in shock at how accurately Reigen’s pinned down their life with just a few sentences. Then, he’s immediately pinwheeling into advice on how best to fix their relationships, their jobs, their life.

He doesn’t like it. The idea that, just by looking at his hands, someone can accurately judge everything inside of him. Reigen never says anything bad about the clients, of course, but he’s sure that he has to see it. All of Serizawa’s mistakes are surely reflected in the creases of his hand— and he’s made a lot of mistakes.

Serizawa spends a lot of time staring at his hands on the train. They’re square in shape, with short, blocked off fingers, and a tangled mess of lines and mounds— what Reigen calls the bumps of flesh on the client’s hands. He doesn’t know what any of it means. He doesn’t think it could be anything good.

It doesn’t really matter, he reminds himself. He’s making a change, just like all of Reigen’s clients. What’s on his hands isn’t set in stone. He just has to make sure Reigen doesn’t see it— even if it might feel nice to have that steady attention, Reigen’s hands that are so much nicer than Serizawa’s folding around his.

The train rumbles under his feet, and hurriedly Serizawa tucks his free hand under his armpit. Like if it hand is out of his sight, the obsessive thought might be too. It doesn’t stop his eyes from ghosting over everyone else’s hands, that all surely say much better things about them than Serizawa’s.

He’s not doing a good job of not thinking about the hands.

Mainly, he keeps thinking about Reigen’s, which doesn’t bode well for Serizawa’s attempts at professionalism.

Serizawa realized fairly early on that his feelings for Reigen exceeded the typical respect one should have for an employer. It even went past the gratitude that one should have for someone who saved Serizawa’s life— because genuinely, Serizawa thinks that Reigen saved his life by giving him this job, when Serizawa didn’t even have a high school education or any practical experience beyond being a reformed terrorist. Even if Serizawa’s managed to stop referring to every manual of business practice as inarguable law, enough of them reiterated the extreme inappropriateness of workplace relationships that Serizawa figured it was a rule he should stick with. Their cautions at power imbalances, lack of professionalism, and the inevitability of messy breakups bang around in Serizawa’s mind every time he looks at Reigen.

Of course, it’s not like Reigen would want anything to do with Serizawa even without these restrictions. Reigen’s a good, helpful person, and he saw that Serizawa was in a bad spot, and wanted to do something about it. That was all. So, it’s up to Serizawa to draw a professional boundary. If he maintains a distance, that’s better for both of them— Reigen won’t have to deal with Serizawa’s messy, inappropriate feelings, and Serizawa won’t get hurt.

But the palm readings make that so much harder than necessary.

Reigen has nice hands, and he takes full advantage of them in every moment. They accent every word that Reigen ever speaks, making his case for him before he’s even begun a sentence. And when Reigen’s hands are making an energetic arc across the room, Serizawa keeps finding his mind going back to the dim office— the candles flickering in the dark, the sweet heady scent of incense. Reigen’s hands comfortably enveloping his hands.

Not his hands, really. It’s only Serizawa’s hands in his flushed, distracted imagination. He wishes, very desperately, that Reigen wasn’t so dedicated to the atmosphere of his services, but if he’s being honest with himself, Serizawa probably would have the same problem if Reigen conducted palmistry under the boring office lights.

It’s just Serizawa’s embarrassing personal problem. It’s something he has to deal with on his own. Another misguided crush on his employer— except he’s so sure that Reigen would let him down gently it burns.

It’s a slow day in the office when Reigen says, tone casual, “Serizawa, let me read your palm.”

Serizawa’s pen jags across the paper. He’s doing homework, which he always feels guilty for, even though Reigen’s repeatedly told him it’s fine, even offering to help him with any assignments he’s having trouble with. Now, he’s punished for slacking on the job by way of an unfortunate ink splatter obscuring a section of his notes. Serizawa feels a static charge draw up around his ears, and he takes a deep breath as he settles the pen against the page. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Serizawa says.

“Why not?” Reigen’s half out of his chair before he’s distracted by a loose set of papers about to escape his desk. He pins them down with a half full mug of tea, then continues his circuit around the desk. “We don’t have a client until later this afternoon, and it’ll be fun— enlightening, even. It’s a good team building exercise.”

He’s pretty sure Reigen just wants to put off the paperwork that he’s been complaining about the whole morning. It’s given him too much time to let his eyes drift across the room and watch Serizawa, probably monitoring any possible mistakes in his work. The palmistry poster’s right behind Serizawa’s head at his desk, so maybe that’s what made him think of it. Regardless, Serizawa does not want Reigen to be enlightened by anything about Serizawa. He clenches his hands into fists and sticks them under the desk, like maybe Reigen will forget about it if he can’t see them.

All the excuses collecting in his brain don’t make it to his mouth in time, and Reigen’s leaning against Serizawa’s desk. “Come on, Serizawa,” he entreats him, voice wheedling. “Don’t you ever unwind? It’s not bad to have a little fun when it’s slow.”

Serizawa can’t think of something less fun than his crush learning all of his secret and not-so-secret inadequacies while holding his hand. Plus, he’s sure that there’s something better both of them could be doing— that’s another thing the self help books harp on, that you can always find something to do to improve your workplace. But he’s not good at telling Reigen no. And so, in a matter of seconds, Reigen’s setting up the office as Serizawa watches, arms locked at his side.

“You don’t have to waste the incense candles,” Serizawa mumbles as Reigen energetically lights a match.

“It’s not a waste,” Reigen says firmly. “Anyway, I do my best readings when there’s a proper atmosphere.”

Since there’s no way to get out of this, besides maybe running straight out of the office and never coming back, Serizawa sits down at the table where Reigen always ushers their clients and waits. Reigen draws the blinds shut and then sits across from him, wiggling forward in his chair.

Reigen’s thighs sandwich the low table between them, pressing close enough for their knees to touch. Even though he’d dreaded the low lighting before, Serizawa’s abruptly grateful for the fact that Reigen can’t see the way his face heats in the dark.

And then, Reigen’s hands are taking his.

His hands are cool, maybe even a little clammy. They rest calmly against Serizawa’s over-hot skin, and Serizawa’s sure Reigen can feel the way that his pulse is rampaging in his wrist. Even before the palm reading’s begun, Serizawa’s hands apparently have the ability to betray him. He tries to swallow his nerves, again, force it all down. He can control himself, even if he’s feeling scared and lovesick. He’s not the person that he used to be.

Serizawa’s reminding himself of all of this, when Reigen says, very seriously, voice a low murmur, “you’ve got nice hands, you know.”

“What?” Serizawa blurts. “No, I don’t.” And then he flinches, immediately berating himself for contradicting Reigen.

Reigen’s eyebrows rise up, vanishing under his bangs. “Sure you do,” he says, insistent. And then, he turns Serizawa’s palm flat, running one electric finger around the circumference. “Square palm— short fingers. You’ve got earth hands. Means you’re reliable, Serizawa.”

Even though his brain is buzzing with this much prolonged contact— Serizawa’s not exactly had a lot of people spend extended time touching his hands, much less Reigen touching his hands— this sentence manages to drag him a little closer to reality again. Reigen just meant that comment in the context of palmistry, of course. He’s probably said similar things to his clients, even if Serizawa can’t exactly remember him saying them in this moment. He breathes.

After waiting long enough to realize that Serizawa’s not going to say anything in response, Reigen returns to tracing the lines of his hands. “Look here,” he murmurs, moving one finger down the center of his palm. “You’ve got a pretty pronounced fate line.”

And Serizawa knows, immediately, that that can’t be right. He’s heard enough of Reigen’s explanations to his clients to have learned that a deep fate line means you have control over your life— that outside actors don’t control your fate. Serizawa can’t think of something less likely to be applied to him. He feels his face sink, watching Reigen’s hand move, back and forth, over his own.

Reigen’s lying to him. He probably doesn’t mean it in a bad way. He probably wants to boost Serizawa’s abysmal self image, because Reigen’s good hearted like that. But it stings that he’d tell Serizawa falsehoods just to make him feel better, against something that demonstrably isn’t true. It calls into question every other good thing Reigen’s said about him.

“Aren’t you going to ask what that means?” Reigen’s eyes move up to look at Serizawa, burning holes in him.

Serizawa sucks in a breath that ghosts over his teeth. “Reigen-san…” He swallows, throat clicking. Every noise he makes suddenly feels so loud and over important when they sitting this close, without even the hum of fluorescent lights to drown it out. “I don’t really know if that makes sense, from what I’ve heard you say to the clients.”

Reigen’s eyebrows work together. “Your fate line can change over the course of your life, you know,” he says slowly. “Just like how you can change. It’s just a reflection of you.”

Serizawa lets his hand drop— it’s only Reigen’s interlaced fingers against the back of his hand that keeps his hand from knocking against the table. “I don’t know,” he mumbles. “I don’t know, if I’ve changed enough to justify that.”

“You’ve made a lot of changes,” Reigen says, still insistently not letting go of his hand. His fingers interlace into a cradle, and Serizawa can feel the press of Reigen’s index finger on one knuckle. “You’re taking classes. You chose to leave a harmful situation, when it would’ve been easier to stay. You’re working here. Serizawa, you’re the one that’s taking charge of your life now.”

But even that’s a falsehood. Serizawa knows, deep in his bones, that he never would have left CLAW on his own. He never would have been able to see past the circumference of his umbrella and his own starry infatuation. The only reason he was able to leave at all was because of Kageyama, forcing him out of the fantasy he was living in, and Reigen, offering him a lifeline when Serizawa was sitting in the absolute rubble of his fake life.

“Serizawa.” Reigen’s voice is suddenly sharp. “Are you really going to doubt an expert spiritualist such as myself?”

“N— no, I didn’t mean—“

“Then accept it. You’re the only one in charge of your life. Let’s look at something else more interesting,” Reigen says, immediately shifting gears and ending the conversational thread. “Your heart line, it looks like it’s pretty—“

And this is something that Serizawa absolutely cannot handle. He yanks his hand out of Reigen’s before he can stop himself. “Reigen-san,” he said, voice climbing an octave. “I don’t know if that’s— appropriate.”

“Eh?” Reigen’s blinking at him.

“I mean,” he pulls his arms back, keeping whatever incriminating information is inscribed on his hands safely hidden. “Isn’t it bad to discuss… Relationships, in the workplace?”

Reigen tilts his head like Serizawa’s said something foreign. “It’s perfectly normal,” he says. “I help Mob with his relationships all the time.”

That’s obviously completely different, Serizawa wants to say, but the words won’t come. Suddenly, he’s seized with the idea— Reigen already knows exactly what he’s thinking and feeling. There’s probably a specific triangle of flesh on Serizawa’s hand that communicates, this person is in love with their superior, and Reigen’s seen it and knows. Serizawa feels the redness climbing all over his face. He can’t stop himself from looking down, palm turning up as he tries to find whatever betrayed him.

And immediately, Reigen’s grabbed his hand again. Serizawa feels his brain misfiring as Reigen yanks it closer. “Look,” Reigen says, eager. “Yours begins below your index finger, from the edge of your palm.” He indicates it, and Serizawa desperately wishes his heart would stop jackhammering in response. His pulse is loud enough to hurt his head, so surely Reigen can feel it pounding in his grip. “Means you’ve got a giving heart, Serizawa. It’s pretty short, so you’re introverted… But deep, so relationships are definitely important to you.”

“Aren’t they important to everyone?” Serizawa asks, floundering for any type of purchase in this conversation.

“Not necessarily,” Reigen says. “I mean, think about it— you’ve definitely met people who’ve put more work into relationships than others, haven’t you? But you value the people around you, so your hands reflect that. Maybe even…” His hand traces a crease, and he wiggles an eyebrow at Serizawa. “Value of a specific person? Someone you have in mind?”

Bone deep shame makes itself known from within Serizawa’s marrow. His fingers automatically curl inward, in an attempt to hide, and suddenly, without realizing, he’s holding the tips of Reigen’s fingers under his.

He expects Reigen to pull back, automatic, but Reigen doesn’t move at all. All Reigen does is go still, not meeting Serizawa’s eyes all of the sudden. His nose dips forward to look down at their hands, hovering above the table. It’s like he’s shy. Reigen is never shy.

“It’s a good thing, you know,” he says. “You’d be a good partner.”

He’s staring down at their hands, resting against the table, still not moving to pull his fingers away, or even to spread open Serizawa’s hand to continue his relentless assault of kind words. It’s like he’s perfectly content to rest there, long fingers trapped in Serizawa’s grip, which is probably too tight and not at all pleasant. Serizawa keeps waiting and waiting for Reigen to pull away, but he doesn’t.

Then, suddenly, the door to the office buzzes, signifying a walk in client. Reigen pinwheels away so dramatically he almost falls off his chair. A little pop of psychic energy spreads out from Serizawa’s feet, lifting everything in the office just an inch off the ground before it drops again. Serizawa stands, frantic, looking for something to do as Reigen hurriedly draws open the blinds.

It’s too late, though. The unexpected customer’s standing in the entrance, staring at both of them. “Um,” he begins, phone held lamely up. “I saw the sign outside, and I was wondering if I could ask about getting some spirit tags…”

Reigen recovers admirably, immediately pivoting into welcoming the customer and acting like it’s perfectly normal for both of them to sit around in the dark with only candles to see by. Serizawa guesses it’s not totally unreasonable— it is a psychic business, after all. You’d only know it was strange if you were a regular customer, and this man isn’t.

The only thing that betrays it as odd is the red blush that’s spread all over Reigen’s face, even staining his ears. It couldn’t be because of Serizawa, of course— it’s just that a customer caught him off guard. It has to be that.

Serizawa stares at the back of Reigen’s flushed neck, and wonders.

The rest of the day is tense.

It’s not exactly like Serizawa and Reigen sit side by side all day, but Reigen normally will get up and come see what Serizawa’s doing. He’ll hang over him as he supervises his work, or offer suggestions on whatever homework assignment he’s working on. In general, Reigen seems to dislike sitting still for long hours. He tends to pace about as he verbally puzzles through work problems to Serizawa, or Mob, or, probably, to an empty room. But after the palm reading, Reigen stays firmly confined to his desk, not saying anything at all as he still fidgets. Even when a client comes for an exorcism and he has to get up, Reigen maintains an exaggeratedly respectful distance between him and Serizawa.

The palm reading plays on repeat in Serizawa’s head, offering new mistakes for Serizawa to fixate on each time. The more they sit in silence, the more Serizawa’s completely sure that Reigen knows exactly how he feels. Why else would he suddenly become so shy? He wishes, fervently, that he’d just managed to keep it to act normally. Maybe if he hadn’t made such a fuss about the whole thing he wouldn’t have made Reigen uncomfortable. Now it’s even more obvious to Reigen where his feelings lie. It must disgust him, to have to deal with Serizawa’s sad, misaimed emotions— pathetically clinging to any basic kindness shown to him.

The whole afternoon, Reigen’s ears stay red as he works at his computer, only stealing glances at Serizawa when he thinks Serizawa can’t see.

He has to say something. He has to to apologize to Reigen for making everything so awkward. Maybe if he promises that he can control his feelings, that it won’t get in the way, things could go back to normal. Serizawa wishes the earth would swallow him whole. But it won’t— not without Serizawa splitting the earth open himself, at least. But if Serizawa wants to have any chance of reintegrating into normal society he has to deal with his feelings in an adult way.

Of course, Reigen beats him to bringing it up, as Serizawa’s dragging up the nerve to say something at the end of the day. He’s just stood, closing his laptop as he says, “Serizawa,” and pauses immediately, scratching the back of his neck. “You know, when you mentioned inappropriate workplace relationships—“

“I promise it won’t get in the way of anything,” Serizawa says in an explosive rush. “Please don’t fire me.”

Reigen stares at him, one hand still resting on the back of his neck. This is a look that Serizawa’s unfortunately gotten to know quite well. It’s the look that Reigen gives him when he’s said something unexpected. Serizawa’s begun to mentally mark it as a sign as conversational failure. “Pardon?”

Serizawa was really desperately hoping that Reigen wouldn’t make him actually say it, but that was looking less and less likely. “When you read my palm,” he stammers out, clutching onto the edge of his desk for dear life. “I know maybe not everything you saw was— appropriate, or maybe it showed something it shouldn’t, but I promise I won’t let it get in the way of working here. I can maintain professional boundaries, and… And…”

His voice trails as he dares to look back into Reigen’s face. It’s completely red again, naked surprise totally dominating his features. His hand’s gripping the back of his chair, like it’s stuck there. Reigen very rarely holds still, but in this moment, he’s completely frozen in place. By shock.

Abruptly, Serizawa realizes he was wrong. Reigen hadn’t seen his feelings in the surface of his fingers. But if he didn’t know about it before, he definitely, definitely knows about it now.

For a split second, Serizawa’s certain the office will collapse around them— his powers going rampant one last time to spare him this complete embarrassment. But all that happens is the furniture trembles, once. Serizawa supposes, under the part of his brain that’s screaming for death, that it shows he’s made good progress on controlling his powers.

He stands robotically. “I should go,” he says.

“No— no,” Reigen suddenly blurts, and he unsticks himself from behind the desk, racing across the office after Serizawa. “Serizawa, wait—”

Serizawa trips over his chair in his rush to leave, which gives Reigen the time to grab his arm before he reaches the door. It would be very easy to pull free and continue his frantic path onto the street and into the horizon, but the feeling of Reigen’s fingers digging into the side of his arm totally arrests Serizawa. He freezes, staring down into Reigen’s still beet-red face.

Reigen’s face is twitching in some kind of worrisome motion— he really looks like he’s about to have some kind of seizure, especially when his complexion is still so totally red. But finally, he manages to speak. “Our heart lines might not be so different, you know,” he says, voice wobbling just a little from— nerves? That can’t be right. Unless Reigen’s so totally disgusted by him that he’s nervous to be around him, now. But he’s holding on so tightly. Like he doesn’t want Serizawa to go.

Serizawa’s eyes slide away, not wanting to look at Reigen dead on, but then Reigen tugs his arm, insistent, trying to get his attention again. “Obviously, the qualities that we have, and the ways that we love— hypothetically— are very different,” Reigen says, voice gaining volume. “But, maybe similar things are revealed if you look closely. Just… A little closer.”

And then he doesn’t say anything, staring wide eyed at Serizawa. He’s clearly waiting for something, as Serizawa’s brain shudders to put the pieces together past every instinct that’s screaming at him to escape. Serizawa can’t conceive of a person being more different from him than Reigen. Any kind of similarity seems like too much to imagine. A similarity of the heart line? Maybe, Reigen has some of the good qualities he’s superimposed onto Serizawa, and that’s what he means. Or maybe— maybe—

Before he can stop himself, Serizawa’s hand slides up to grab the one that Reigen’s got on his arms. This time Reigen’s hand is damp with sweat. So is Serizawa’s, and he can’t imagine that it’s a pleasant experience for Reigen. Still, Reigen spreads his fingers, interlacing Serizawa’s fingers with his as they fall to the side.

“Just a little closer,” Reigen says again, voice almost a whisper as he steps into Serizawa’s personal space. The gap between their bodies narrows, and then vanishes, Reigen’s torso pressing against Serizawa’s.

It seems, impossibly, to be what Reigen wants. So before he can stop himself, Serizawa dips his head and kisses Reigen.

Reigen’s body leans up and into Serizawa, his free hand reaching up to touch his face. Underneath the fireworks happening behind Serizawa’s eyelids, there’s a moment of terror at Reigen touching his face— like he’ll find some patchy place where Serizawa missed shaving, or the pockmarked memory of an acne scar, and abruptly snap out of whatever insanity’s fallen over him. But Reigen touches his cheek gently, so, so, gently, and the fingers encircling Serizawa’s only tighten.

He’s sure, from any objective standpoint, it’s not a very good kiss— Serizawa’s never kissed anyone before, so his skills are probably awful. But it also means it’s the best he’s ever had. He never wants to come up for air.

Eventually, though, their faces break apart. Reigen’s face is still twitching a little, but now it’s up into an almost manic smile. Serizawa’s starting to wonder if the blush across Reigen’s face will ever subside. “This is,” Reigen begins, and then stops.

Reigen’s words rarely stop, and the silence stretches on for a few uninterrupted seconds until Serizawa realizes that genuinely, Reigen’s lost for words. A laugh threatens to break loose from Serizawa’s chest, but he doesn’t want it to seem like he’s laughing at Reigen. He only wants to express that whatever Reigen’s feeling, Serizawa understands. Completely and totally. It’s something he feels confident of when typically, Serizawa feels confident of nothing. So he just smiles, hoping that maybe, Reigen will understand too.

“I should have gotten into palmistry earlier,” Reigen says finally, and at that Serizawa can’t suppress his laugh. “Clearly I should screw around reading articles on the weekend more.”

“This wasn’t the reason you learned about palmistry,” Serizawa says, laugh still making his voice shake.

“Hell no,” Reigen snorts. “I just wanted to find another way to make a quick buck.” Then, immediately, he adds, “and also help our clients find out important truths about themselves, and the universe, of course—”

“While making a quick buck,” Serizawa says. It feels too joking, too disrespectful, but then, Serizawa’s just kissed Reigen. Reigen’s kissed him back. Worrying about professionalism seems suddenly pointless.

Reigen raises an eyebrow at him. “Sassy. Just don’t say that to the clients, Serizawa.”

His hand’s still clinging to Serizawa, gently swinging between them. Impulsively, Serizawa brings the hand up to his mouth, kissing the knuckles. Reigen’s breath pulls in, and Serizawa feels his face heat. He suddenly realizes that really, he has no idea what Reigen expects from this. They could be on completely different pages, Serizawa could be moving too fast, he could be doing everything all wrong.

But Reigen’s smiling at him. It’s a smile that he hasn’t seen before— totally unlike the dazzling grins that he gives his clients, and everyone he’s trying to convince to believe him. It feels different. The other smiles, Serizawa realizes, are something that Reigen puts on, in the same way that he puts on his tie in the morning. This one is real. This one is for Serizawa.

There’s a part of his stomach that’s still telling him this whole thing is a bad idea. Every chapter on workplace relationships he’s taken careful notes on is flashing on the back of his eyelids when he blinks. But, more and more, Serizawa’s realized that Spirits and Such is far from a typical office environment. Serizawa’s not a typical employee, and Reigen— wonderful, strange, perfect, Reigen— is not a typical boss.

When they walk out of the office, Reigen’s still holding his hand. Serizawa hopes, impossibly, that he never stops.

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: I Got You** {One-Shot}

Lewis Tan x Reader

Warning: Mild Cursing, Fluff, Mild to Moderate NSFW, Mild to Moderate Smut

Words: 3.1k

Summary: Lewis takes notice that you’re having a hard day, so he pushes everything to the side to make it easier.

Note: This is for @munteanhorewrites I hope this make you feel all fluffy, doll.  💜💜

 ***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

 ***Mildly Interactive***

~~~~~~~~

The way you kissed him goodbye this morning was weighing heavily on his mind. He was so in tune with you that it was easy for him to decipher how you felt. Depending on the kiss he got, he could determine if you were happy, feeling flirtatious, sad, angry, or even annoyed. This morning’s kiss was a detached one that left the taste of melancholy on his lips. He’d wanted to pull you back to him and badger you until you told him what was wrong, but time was once again against him.

 Four hours into this shoot, and he was still at it. He’d never had more than fifteen minutes to himself, and even then, he was still working. Either it was doing small interviews and web appearances, or it was answering emails. He always tried to find a balance in his life. A balance to give you the attention you deserved, but the last few months had been difficult because his name was coming up more and more for potential roles, which meant many more meetings.

 Finally, with some time for himself, he dialed you. After three rings, you picked up.

 “Hi babe,” you said, your voice low and dejected.

 “Hi, princess. How are you?”

“Eh--,” you began on a sigh. “I’m okay. I’m just sitting on the balcony with Bear.”

 “Is she keep you good company until daddy comes home?”

 “Yeah, she’s always so sweet to me.”

 Even your voice now didn’t sound like your usual self. He could feel something was off.

 “What’s wrong, princess?”

 Again, you sighed, but you didn’t speak right away. Instead of speaking, he patiently waited for you to be ready to talk about it. He knew better than to force you to open up. You’d do it in your own time. After almost a minute, you spoke.

 “It’s just one of those days, I guess.”

 “Yeah? Tell me about it,” he coaxed on.

 “I just feel at a crossroads, I guess. I don’t know how to explain it. I feel all over the place, but like I’m standing still. I don’t even know if that made any sense.”

 He could hear the struggle in your voice and even felt the chaos going on in your head. His heart sunk, and just like that, his decision was made.

 “It made sense. How about we talk about it when I get in?”

 “Sure, baby, I’m sorry I don’t mean to bring you down while you’re working,” you began before he quickly shut you down.

 “I don’t wanna hear you say that again. You never bring me down. You’re the reason I’m always on cloud ten.”

 You snorted. “Babe, you mean, cloud nine.”

 “Nah, I said what I meant, princess. Cloud ten. You got me walking in the sky on a whole different level than anyone else. They wish they were me.”

 “You’re so silly. Get back to work,” you teased.

 “Y/N.”

 “Yes, baby.”

 “I love you. You know that, right.”

 “I know, babe,” you began to brush off.

 “No, I don’t think you do, but you will by the end of the day,” he finished.

 Once he ended the call, he got on the phone with his people to cancel the rest of his day. He didn’t care what it took. He had no intention of working for the rest of the day. It was strictly for you.

 Once the photo shoot was finished, he made a few quick stops to pick up things he would need. Plenty of your favorite candles. An overflow of your bath and body products from Lush. Your favorite order from the Japanese restaurant you always craved. Several servings of your favorite dessert and a few gifts. When he made it home, it almost six. Before bringing in the bags, he tracked you down, finding you still on the balcony in the bedroom.

 “Hey, baby.”

 Your smile was bright, but it never reached your eyes. “Hi.”

 He kissed your forehead, then your cheek, then your lips. “You smell like cotton candy, vanilla, and sugar. Where’ve you been?”

 Trying not to seem suspicious, he shrugged. “I just picked up a few things from the store. Have you eaten today?”

 You leaned back and hugged Bear closer, who was trying to reach him. Bending down closer, he allowed her to lick along his jaw.

 “Hi Bear, how are you? Have you been taking care of our lil’ mama? Yes, you have. Such a good girl.”

 For a few moments, both of you snuggled and scratched behind Bear’s ears, showering her with the same affection she always showed both of you.

 “So, did you?”

 “I had some tea and a muffin earlier.”

 “Princess,” he began scolding before you sighed then pouted those perfect lips.

 “Don’t be mad at me,” I couldn’t take that too.”

 “No baby, I’m not mad. I just don’t like it when you don’t take care of yourself. You mean everything to me, and I need you around.”

 You felt your heart swell from his words. You knew you meant a lot to him, but hearing him voice it always made your heart skip a beat. Turning around with the chair back between you, you flung your arms around his neck, holding him closer.

 “I love you.”

 “I love you too, princess,” Lewis whispered back.

 That was when you let everything out. You told him about the sleepless night you’d had, which he wasn’t even aware of. You told him about your worries, your fears, the anxieties that had reared their ugly heads, and held you captive all day. You held nothing back. The deepness of your anxieties and pain had him pulling you out of the chair, so you straddled him on the floor. He held you as you cried and let you use him as your teddy bear for as long as you needed.

 Once your sobs subsided, he proceeded to tell you all the things he loved about you, beginning with your kind and giving heart, the one he fell in love with first. He told you how much he loved your sense of humor and intelligence and loyalty to those you love. He even revealed a few secrets he’d held on to since the beginning of your relationship that would have told you how completely wrapped around your finger you had him. Nothing was off limits. He let it all out.

 By the time the sun had set over the horizon, you were staring at each other, neither in a rush to move or do anything else. He almost forgot about the night he’d planned—almost.

 “Give me ten minutes. I’ll be right back,” he said, kissing your nose and placing you on the floor.

 He rushed around your home to gather the bath products he’d bought and brought them into the bathroom to fill the tub. As he filled it, he didn’t think much of what ingredients were meant for what; all he cared about was the scent. He knew which scents would help with stress and mood, and those were the ones he focused on. As the water filled and the bath bombs fizzed out, he placed the candles around the bathroom and lit each one.

 Once he was sure everything was perfect, he went back to your bedroom and found you right where he left you, again with Bear in your arms. She loved the attention. Slowly he covered your eyes and led you to the bathroom, all the while you softly giggled.

 “What are you up to?”

 “Nothing. I just want tonight to be all about you. I want you to truly feel loved, taken care of, and safe.”

 “Aw, babe.”

 When he lowered his hands from your eyes, you gasped and brought yours to your mouth.

 “Oh my god, Lewis.”

 Before you was such a lovely sight, it brought tears to your eyes. The soft glow of the plethora of candles that were decorated around bathed the room in a romantic aura that had butterflies filling your belly. When your eyes dropped to the tiled floors, you found red and white rose petals leading to the back of the bathroom, where the dark bamboo colored flooring held the white porcelain tub.

 “Babe.”

 The tears in your eyes welled to capacity. Lewis dragged the pads of his thumbs just underneath your eyes to sweep them away.

 “Come on.”

 He led you along the flower path to the tub. The scent of plumeria, gardenia, vanilla, brown sugar, and a few other scents wrapped around you, making you moan.

 “Babe, this is so sweet,” you whined. When he smiled and showed off those adorable dimples, you playfully dug your pointer into them, deepening them.

 “Come on. Let’s get you in.”

Lewis stepped behind you, undid your robe, and helped you into the tub. As you sank down, you sighed out, relishing the feel of the hot water on your skin. Once you sat, you stretched and dipped your back to rest your neck against the cushion there.

 “Is it good?”

 “Yes, baby, thank you.”

 Instead of leaving, Lewis went behind you, sat on the raised portion of the floor, and picked up your bath gloves.  When you felt him begin to bathe you, you melted.

 “You’re going to give me a bath?”

 “Yep,” he replied.

 “Sure, you can handle that?”

 His smile was wide before he bit his bottom lip. “You know how focused I can be when I have a goal.”

 “And what’s the goal, baby?”

 Your eyes met. “The goal is to have the love of my life feel like the queen she is. So turn around, lay back, and let daddy do all the work.”

 You did as you were told, and Lewis did as he promised—he did all the work. Lewis rubbed your muscles and massaged out all the kinks and lumps your body held with expertise. You always knew he was good with his hands. He could handle every weapon with ease and skill. That skill didn’t stop there; it stretched far beyond martial arts and weaponry. By the time he’d drained the tub and rinsed your body off, you could have floated away from how lite you felt.

 He left you for a few minutes leaving you to wrap in a towel and make it back to your bedroom where you found your stock of body products replenished with a sweet note and gift box. Inside the gift box were a new robe and a sexy cami and short set. After lathering your skin with the lotion that smelled like coconuts, roses, and cocoa butter, you put the items on. When you turned around there, Lewis stood leaning on the door jamb, just quietly watching you.

 “How long have you been there?”

 “Since you popped that delectable thigh up there,” he said, nodding to the bed.

Smiling, you tried not to feel embarrassed. He’d been watching since the very beginning and hadn’t made one sound.

 “How many times have I told you not to used your creepy martial arts stealth against me,” you teased as you walked across to him.

 “Once or twice, but I get the best shows when you don’t know I’m there,” he cooed into your ear before he placed and kiss on your neck.

 “Mmm, you smell so good,” Lewis added, biting your shoulder, making you moan and melt against him. His hand slid down the curve of your back to grip your backside, again making you moan.

 “I like this,” he huskily mentioned.

 “Not sure who you bought it for, me or you.”

 Lewis’s grip tightened on your flesh, pulling you closer so you could feel the beginning stirs of his arousal.

 “Mmm, is that also for me?”

 You lifted a leg and wrapped it around him, making his grip change, so his fingertips gently brushed your sex. The action made both of you groan. When you felt his member thicken even more, you slipped your hand between you to rub your hand against his crotch. Lewis sucked in a breath, then grunted.

 “Behave, princess,” he said before you felt him pinch your clit, sending a hot red blaze of desire through your body.

 Lewis lowered your leg, turned, and led you out of the bedroom and down the stairs. When he brought you into the living room, you stopped in your tracks to find the biggest pillow and blanket fort you’d ever seen. Excitement bubbled in you, which had you jumping and screeching as Bear scurried by your feet.

 “Oh my god, baby. A pillow fort? Aaah!”

With that, you ran around the living room, looking at everything he’d managed to do. It was a small thing, but he knew how much you loved cheesy things like this. When you rounded to him, you leaped into his arms, wrapping your legs around him.

 “Oh, baby, thank you. I love it,” you said, kissing all over his face.

 “I’m glad you like it. It’s gonna stay up the whole week. It took forever.” Your smile was wide before you kissed him once, then twice. On the third kiss, you delved your tongue into his mouth and took control of a kiss you hoped showed him how much this and he meant to you. Lewis moaned on your mouth before his hands dropped to cup your ass. As if unconsciously, he angled you against his need, and in seconds you were making out and moaning. Lewis was the one to abruptly pull away and groan.

 “Let’s eat.”

 Dinner was amazing and perfect. While you ate, Lewis gave you complete control over what you watched. Not wanting to make him sit through some super sappy romance movie, you chose something with a good mix of action and romance. By the time you moved on to the second movie, dinner was finished, and you’d moved on to dessert. Again you melted when you saw just how much trouble he’d gone through for you today. The second gift he gave you was a gold bracelet with a heart with your first initial and his together, and the mandarin word forever etched on the back. That was when stray tears rolled down your face, to which Lewis whispered nothing but words of love, infatuation, and desire.

 Halfway through their third movie, your hands began their search for the warmth of his flesh. It didn’t take long for your search to go from innocent to complete debauchery.  You could tell your touch was having an effect when Lewis’s breathing sounded more and more labored, and the speed of his heartbeat increased underneath your cheek. The way his slim limbs looked in his boxer briefs had your teeth sinking into your bottom lip. Slipping your hand down his abdomen and over every ab, you slinked your hand unto his underwear. Lewis groaned.

 “What’re you doing, princess?”

 “What does it feel like, daddy?”

 He groaned, bit his bottom lip, then slightly arched when you gently gripped his shaft.

 “This is supposed to be a calm night for you. it’s not supposed to be about--.”

 His words paused, and breath hitched as your hand traveled lower to caress the balls of his manhood.

 “God, you’re killing me, baby.”

 “What am I doing?”

 When he looked at you, the innocence in your eyes hid his member visibly pulsate. The helplessness you saw in his eyes had you instantly wet. You swung your leg over him and straddled him, letting the heat from your core sear his hardness, branding him as yours all over again. Lewis sucked in a breath and leaned back on one of the mountains of pillows.

 “We don’t—you don’t have to—I just wanted to do something nice for you. I wanted to show you how much I love you,” Lewis rushed out with great effort.

 “I love you so much for everything you did today. You didn’t have to, and I appreciate it and you more than you’ll ever know,” you began.

 You then leaned closer to him so your face was right in front of his. He was close enough to kiss. All he had to do was take it.

 “It’s my turn to do something for you to show you how much I love you.”

 Once the words came out, Lewis’s lips were on yours. He kissed you intensely and passionately. It was a kiss that stole your breath. In no time, everything had flipped, including your body. You were now underneath him with your legs spread. As Lewis kissed you, he rocked his body against you, fanning the flames of your desire.

 “I love you,” Lewis whispered as you peeled his underwear off his hips. Lewis assisted you in sliding them lower until he’d kicked them off.

 Once you felt the heaviness of his need rest on your pubis, you moaned and wrapped a leg around his back. Lewis didn’t wait. In seconds he’d managed to pull off the shorts you wore and fling them somewhere in the room. From then, there was no need to go slowly.

 “Make love to me,” you whispered.

 Lewis locked eyes with yours and thrust forward, connecting your bodies. Both of you sighed out as if you’d found your sanctuary after a long day.

 “I love you,” you whispered on a strangled breath.

 His response was a kiss that spoke of nothing but languid need, while his thrusts said he needed you and needed you now. His thrusts were swift but deep, and they worked to drive you insane. Within minutes you were clinging to him, sinking your nails into his back. Every connection you clenched around him while panting his name. On every retreat, he whimpered yours.

 “You’re my world, Y/N.”

 You could see the truth of what he spoke in his eyes, and it brought you closer to the edge. Lewis sensed it and doubled down on his efforts to make you come undone.

 “Do you love me, princess?”

 “So much, baby,” you whispered before you gasped loudly.

 Your back arched, and seconds later, you were clenching around him as your orgasm tore through you. It was so powerful it dragged Lewis down with you. The two of you laid on the soft blankets of your fort, catching your breath. Lewis traced lazy patterns into your skin before he shifted onto his side, taking you with him. As you gazed into each other eyes, you fell in love with him all over again.

 “Thank you, baby.”

 “I’d do anything for you. Remember, I’m always here for you. You win, I win. You’re happy; I’m over the moon. You’re unhappy; my world is dark. Confide in me. I got you.”

 He kissed your nose and pulled you closer. It didn’t take long for you both to doze off completely exhausted.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 Tag List:

@chaneajoyyy @caplover22 @caramara3 @dangerouslovefanfic @munteanhorewrites @shar74nett @xsweetdellzx @night-of-the-living-shred​ @labella420 @coldmuffinbanditshoe @areubeingserved @cxmfort  @littlepreciousangel @youremysuperstar @i-just-like-fanfics @k347 @storiestoldbyjazz @jovanaprime  @ramp-it-up @october505 @ukmkhan @liquorlaughslove @msblkfire84​ @live-laugh-love-ki​ @literaturefeen @winchwm​ @queenoftheworldisdead

[xmagicxshopx]

💋 Often 💋

Genre: Slice of Life, Comedy Rating: M (smut) Warnings: strip club, oral (f receiving), protected penetrative sex Pairing: stripper!jungkook x reader Notes: AU fic. Not idol!jungkook. Single quote marks ‘ ‘ are for thoughts and double “ “ are for talking. Additional Notes: This is a project and collaboration by myself, @katebacks​ and @taevjim​ Mine is based on the song Often by The Weeknd

Summary: She asked me if i do this everyday, i said often. Asked how many times she rode the wave, not so often. Bitches down to do it either way, often. Baby i can make that pussy rain, often.

Routine.

You were all about the routine. It was what you knew and what you were comfortable with; the different and the unknown being your two biggest fears in life. You had a routine. A simple five-day, nine-to-five job that paid you well. A morning schedule of get ready for work, coffee and bagel for breakfast, feed the cat, and drive exactly 20 and a half minutes to get to work. Your evenings were no different as far as having a set schedule. Come home, feed the cat, pop dinner in the microwave, eat, chill, sleep.

All of your friends and family, even your coworkers, tried to gently and kindly nudge you into mixing your life up a bit. Add some spice to it. Broaden your horizon. But you were just fine with the way things were. You didn’t need any spice in your life and your horizon was as broad as you wanted it to be. Your belief? Don’t fix it if it’s not broken and your life wasn’t broken in the slightest. Everything was just peachy. You were happy and that’s what mattered most, right?

Or were you happy?

You scoffed at your reflection in your bathroom mirror as the self doubt started to creep into your brain like an ominous fog. Of course you were happy! Why wouldn’t you be??? Brushing off the sudden wave of doubt that managed to fill your very core, you continued getting ready for work before heading out the door. But of course not before feeding your cat at exactly ten minutes till eight.

Upon walking into the office, you noticed that it was just another day. Everyone already at their desks typing away in their little cubicles while papers could be heard shuffling around into neat, organized piles. The copier buzzing away as it performed the tasks asked of it. You liked this. This was your comfort zone. Routine was good. Everything was good. You had just put your purse away and went to sit down at your desk when one of your coworkers popped up over the top of your cubicle.

“So, girl friend! It’s a Friday and I’m taking you out whether you like it or not. Be ready by nine!”

Wait what???

“But---”

“Wear something slutty, too.”

Okay, yeah. Because that was totally your style. As your coworker went back to her own work, it was now your turn to carefully climb onto your desk on your knees so that you could look over the other cubicle. Scoffing softly, you tried your best to argue over why you couldn’t go out with her tonight.

“But Gigi, I don’t have anything like that and besides, I go to bed by nine. I need my beauty sleep.”

You knew your words were weak and sounded feeble even to your own ears. What kind of excuses were those??? Well, in your defense, you really didn’t have anything in your wardrobe that Gigi would consider ‘slutty’ and the both of you knew this. With a soft huff, your coworker simply rolled her eyes and said with a confident grin,

“Fine. I’ll lend you something to wear. We’re similar in size and body build so it’ll totally work. And tonight you’re skipping out on that beauty sleep. You’ll have plenty of time to recover over the weekend.”

Just as you were about to try and come up with yet another lame excuse, Gigi continued in addition,

“And today you’re not driving home. You’re driving to my place. I’ll give you the address and we’ll make a whole evening out of it. We’ll order take-out and stuff our faces so that the food can absorb the alcohol we’re gonna tank ourselves in tonight. It’s gonna be a blast!”

Somehow you highly doubted that. None of that sounded like a fun time to you. Well maybe the take-out part. Pouting in both defeat and confusion, you couldn’t help but wonder what had gotten into your coworker. You and Gigi weren’t official friends or anything so why was she doing this for you? Why put so much effort into someone who didn’t want it? With a soft huff, you muttered in defeat,

“Fine.”

It was all you could think about during the day while you tried to focus on work. Sure you knew there’d be a lot of time spent in the safety of your coworker’s home, but then where could she possibly be taking you that had to wait till after nine at night? Wait----She mentioned alcohol. Ugh. It was probably a club. Gross. Loud music, sweaty body odor every time you turn around, the stench of cheep beer. Ugh. That was not your idea of a fun night out. You didn’t even dance. You don’t even dance in front of your cat!

Before you knew it, it was five o’clock and time to pack up for the day and start the weekend. Normally, you’d be treating yourself to some drive thru food and just staying indoors till you had to leave for work the next Monday morning. However, thanks to Gigi, those plans had changed and you still weren’t all that excited about it. Pouting like a child who hadn’t gotten her way, you trudged yourself out of your cubicle to see a beaming Gigi by the elevator waiting for you.

“Don’t look so glum, we’re gonna have a great time!”

“Why are you doing all of this? You hardly know me.”

Just then, the elevator made a bell sound indicating that it had finally reached the floor you were on and the doors opened up for the both of you. As the two of you stepped inside, Gigi pressed the lobby button before clearing her throat a bit shyly and replied in a small, sheepish tone,

“I just hate to see you missing out on life, you know? I’m still new in town and I don’t have a lot of friends and you’re the only one who’s shown me any sort of kindness. I really appreciate that so I know you’re a good person and I just.....I dunno. This is going weird. Just go with it, okay?”

Never before had you seen your coworker so awkward. Gigi was always strutting her stuff with her body language screeching ‘confident’. To see her so shy and sheepish like this was new for you but somehow, you found yourself smiling and feeling touched. Suddenly feeling quite timid yourself, you cleared your throat and said softly,

“Well, I don’t know how good of a friend I’d make, but we can be friends if you want?”

You weren’t expecting the loud squeal of joy followed by the near tackle to the elevator floor as Gigi practically flung herself at you. It never dawned on you just how lonely your coworker must feel after moving to town. An area where she knew absolutely no one. No wonder she was overjoyed to hear your words. Awkwardly patting her back, you smiled up at the elevator ceiling before the doors finally opened again and brought the two of you out into the lobby.

“We’re gonna have so much fun, girly! I just know it! Dinner’s on me tonight, okay? You can pay for your drinks but dinner is definitely my treat. Come on, I’ll just meet you over at your place so you can leave your car and then we’ll drive together over to my place in my car.”

Everything was happening so fast and you definitely weren’t used to it. You preferred life in the slow lane but dang. Gigi was making that a thing of the past. Perhaps it was just her happiness of having made a new friend that caused her to be live like a wire and talking 90 miles a minute? Either way, before you could blink, you were giving her directions to your house and dropping your car off so that you could hop into hers.

During the ride to Gigi’s place, the two of you discussed what to have for dinner. Turns out she was indeed taking you to a club later tonight so alcohol was on the table as well. You could only imagine what a light weight you must be considering the fact that you really didn’t drink much. You were more of a celebratory drinker. Things like holidays and such. Otherwise, you never touched the stuff. You preferred your teas and coffee.

After deciding on Korean BBQ, the two of you placed your orders and had it delivered to Gigi’s place where the two of you eventually dug in; getting sauce all over your faces and laughing at each other over how messy the two of you looked. It was nice. This was nice. Something that you really didn’t think you’d feel based on your previous mindset. Perhaps getting out and socializing wasn’t so bad? This wasn’t so bad.

However, as the night hours passed, the hurdles only got more and more difficult to get over.

“Can’t I just go in what I’m wearing???”

“Girl----You’re wearing work clothes. No one goes to a club in their work clothes.”

The blush on your face was enough to zip your lips as you let your coworker now turned friend do her thing. Work her magic, you supposed. Would you even look right wearing something other than your usual conservative attire? Subconsciously nibbling your bottom lip in worry, you watched Gigi as she started pulling out pieces of clothing to inspect them, only to put them right back. You knew it. Nothing was going to look right on you. This just wasn’t your bag.

“Ha! Found it!”

Dang it.

Trying not to pout too loudly, you watched the girl whip out a dress that looked way too form fitting for your liking. It was drenched in sequins and jet black. Well....black went with everything, right? At least it was a color you were used to wearing as most of your work clothes were black. Perhaps that was what Gigi was going for? Something that she knew you’d at least be somewhat comfortable with due to the familiarity of it. If that was the case, then you were extremely grateful and liking this newfound friendship more and more.

“Okay so you’ll be wearing this and I have some stockings for you too. Once we’re dressed, we’ll put on some makeup.”

“Makeup?”

“Yes, makeup. We’re going to a club, girl! We gotta look pretty for those boys.”

“Boys?”

“You’ll see, girl friend.”

You simply whined and pouted with sagged shoulders as Gigi flashed you a cheeky smile and wink in return. This was too much. Yet at the same time......you were......curious? Yeah. That was it. Definitely not excited. Just curious. Still pouting, you went to work on unzipping the dress she handed you and started to carefully step into it. Gosh it really was form fitting, wasn’t it? Your cheeks flared up in embarrassment but went ahead and had Gigi zip you up.

No turning back now.

Once the both of you were dressed, it was time to put makeup on. You had quickly informed the girl that you didn’t know the first thing about makeup which didn’t come as a surprise to either of you. In fact, Gigi had full intentions of doing your makeup as well as her own. You weren’t sure if you should have felt insulted or comforted. In the moment, you were more relieved than anything because if you were in charge of doing your own......you’d just skip out on that step altogether.

“Okay, so I’ll have you watch me first and then I’ll do yours. Just in case you ever decide you want to try and do your own someday.”

The probability of you doing your own makeup one day was slim to none but it was still sweet of your coworker to say such things and offer such advice. With all the products Gigi had spread out on her bathroom counter, you figured this would take awhile. No wonder she was starting so early. You could only imagine how much all of those products cost her. It looked like a small fortune scattered all over the counter. But it wasn’t like you’d know.

However, you did as she asked and decided to watch and it wasn’t till it was over that you realized just how wrapped up you were in watching her. It was like watching a painter perform art with Gigi’s face being the blank canvas. You had no idea watching someone apply makeup could be so.....fascinating? Interesting? You weren’t quite sure of what word you were looking for but you found yourself blushing when she caught you being quite involved in paying attention.

“Okay! Your turn, girly!”

So there you stood with her applying all kinds of products to your face. You were pretty sure she put at least three different kinds of things on your lips. Something about a foundation layer and then eventually topping it all off with some gloss. Dunno. You got lost with how fast she was going through it all. Gigi knew what she was doing and that much was clear. Once she was done with your lips and you could talk freely, you couldn’t help but ask in a small and timid voice,

“So how did you get so good with makeup?”

“Oh I used to work in one of the malls and my sole job was to do people’s makeup while introducing them to the latest products. It was fun for the longest time but it didn’t pay enough. So I moved here when a job opening came up.”

Wow. You knew exactly what type of employee she was because you’d always eyeball the young girls getting their makeup done just for the fun of it while you roamed the racks for new work clothes. No wonder Gigi was so good at this. It had been her job for the longest time. You felt the need to at least give her some kind of tip but you knew right away that she’d never take it; insisting that she was no longer on the job anymore.

“There! We’re ready to par-tay!”

‘Yay.....’

Gigi said that it would be pointless to do either of your guys’ hair so you two just simply brushed it a bit and let it hang loose. Having only your bulky purse, Gigi kindly offered you a clutch purse that went with your dress perfectly; offering to keep the rest of your belongings at her place to keep them safe. But you had all the important stuff in the clutch and that was good enough for you.

The two of you would take an Uber so that the both of you could get trashed as Gigi so elegantly put it. You highly doubted you’d drink enough to get wasted but it was a smart idea. This way you could just go straight home in case you wanted to leave before your friend was ready. You had the feeling you’d be leaving way before she did.

Upon arriving at the club, you could feel your body going into some kind of panic mode. Eyes wide, face flushed with heat, and you’re pretty sure your heart is swimming in your stomach. Perhaps you shouldn’t have ate so much. The possibility that you could puke was high at the moment. Looking all around you, were strippers. The majority of them female but you could spot a few males and good lord. Your eyes. Your poor poor eyes. In a shouted whisper, you scolded the girl next to you.

“You brought us to a strip club!?!!?”

“Don’t act so mortified. Lots of people go. See?”

“I’m not one of those people, Gi!!!”

But all you got was a coo in response as your coworker-turned-friend squished your cheeks together at the cute nickname you had just subconsciously given her. Before you could further complain and even rush out the door, you were being dragged to the bar area. Good lord. There were naked and half naked people everywhere. How could anyone call this fun??? It was barbaric!! With cheeks still flushed in shock and now embarrassment, you simply let Gigi order the drinks for the two of you so that you could try to pull yourself together.

It was going to be a loooonnng night.

With a couple drinks in your system, you were definitely starting to feel it. A light weight. You knew you were a light weight but dang. Allowing the tipsy Gigi to guide you over to a table close to the stage, you didn’t find yourself whining at the idea of being so close up to someone who was going to strip right in front of you. Perhaps it was the alcohol messing with your brain and you just didn’t have the energy to care anymore. You were stuck here so might as well make the most of it, right?

And then he walked out.

If you weren’t so out of it thanks to the alcohol, you would have had better control over your bodily functions. Like trying to prevent from drooling all over yourself. He was absolutely gorgeous. And that was putting it lightly in your opinion.

His facial features reminded you of a rabbit but he was anything but cute right now. Those doe eyes of his were sharp yet hooded as he put on a show of pure seduction while on stage. Yes. This man was a stripper but you couldn’t bring yourself to care right now. Your embarrassment was traded in for fascination as you watched him saunter his way to the center of the stage.

Dark locks hung in front of his beautifully handsome face and the product used in it made it appear as if he had just gotten out of the shower and his hair was still wet. It wasn’t the only thing wet right now as you tried to press your thighs closer together. Good lord. What age were you? Sixteen? Subconsciously licking your dry lips, you watched as he began to unbutton the sleeves of his dress shirt.

Yes. He was fit for all purposes of the word. You could tell this guy went to the gym often because of the way his muscles bulged within the confines of his outfit. His dress shirt had some sort of sequins in it that made it sparkle under the harsh lighting of the stage. It was like he himself was sparkling in all his gorgeousness. You truly had never seen such a more handsome man before. Not even on magazine covers.

As he worked on unbuttoning the rest of his shirt, you let your eyes wander further down his body. God his thigh muscles. How on earth did he even fit in those pants? They looked painted on! The next thing you knew, he was pulling the hem of his shirt from the confinements of those skin tight pants. If you weren’t certain he went to the gym before, you were absolutely positive now.

After watching him allow his dress shirt to fall on the stage floor, you were definitely drooling at this point. In fact, you were so wrapped up in watching this mysterious man perform that you didn’t even notice Gigi leaving you to your own devices. Had you been paying her any mind, you would have pouted at her smug expression of victory as she moved back to the bar for another drink.

With the man now shirtless, you took your good old time admiring his freshly exposed skin. He was perfect. You were pretty sure no other man could be as perfect and flawless as him. At least appearance wise. If this guy wasn’t proud of his body, then he should be. From the looks of things, perhaps he was a little too proud. You were a little drunk but you weren’t blind drunk. You could be blind and still be able to see the confidence that radiated off of him in waves.

What you didn’t expect, however, was for him to walk off the stage and into the crowd.

Walking right towards you.

Wait what????

Your eyes widened in shock as he strutted his way over to you. There was no mistaking that it was you he was after because there was no one else at the table you were sitting at. No. His eyes were all on you and the heat was spreading from your face, all the way down your neck and to the tips of your ears. Gosh this was so embarrassing! Where was Gigi!?!? Your heart pounded in your ears over the music as the man slowly held out his hand for you to take.

As if you still had no control over your own body, you found yourself placing your shaking, clammy hand in his own. Gosh his hands were big too. You felt so small at the realization as he gently gripped your hand in his. The next thing you knew, you were being swiftly pulled from your chair and twirled around only to land in a solid, hard lap. You were sobering up pretty quickly. Or at least it seemed like it.

Dear god this was so mortifying!!

“The name is Jungkook. I’m guessing from the frightened look on your face, you don’t come here often. Would I be guessing correctly, beautiful?”

God you needed to say something, anything, but you were just too shocked and embarrassed by your current situation that all you could do was part your lips but no sounds came out. Your eyes did all the talking as they stared into his own; yours full of helplessness and yes you were definitely scared. A shirtless stranger had you in his lap like it was no big deal. Handsome, sure, but still a complete stranger. He smiled and chuckled softly in endearment before carefully helping you off his lap and back to stand on your own two feet.

“I’ll take that as a yes. But worry not, beautiful, you’re safe with me. I won’t hurt you. Here, take this and once I’m done performing, hand this to the bartender and he’ll bring you right to me. I promise it’ll be worth your while.”

You stood there like a bump on a log as you watched him fish in his back pocket for something. How could he fit anything in those pants besides his hot ass and thighs? Seriously!? Those things weren’t painted on??? Blinking and feeling half numb by this point, you felt him press something into your palm and even helped close your fingers around it. As he walked away coolly back towards the stage to do his thing, you stared down at what was in your hand while fumbling to find your seat again. You definitely needed to sit down right now.

A key. This Jungkook guy had given you a key. It looked pretty antique and vintage, like something you’d see back in medieval times, but you weren’t going to question it. No. The real question was---were you really gonna take him up on this offer of his. Then again.....what exactly was he offering you? A private lap dance? That had to be what it was. Something that you wanted no part of.

Or did you?

Ugh. This was so troublesome. So annoying! Then again.....what did you really have to lose? But what if you couldn’t trust this guy? There was just so many things you didn’t know. Not to mention you were scared of looking like an even bigger idiot in front of him. He probably thought you were some spineless virgin. Granted the spineless part wasn’t far from the truth but at least you weren’t a virgin...

And before you knew it, the man was sauntering off stage back towards the curtains where he disappeared from sight. You almost choked when you realized he had stripped down to nothing but his boxer briefs. Was it a shame that you only caught his backside in that state? Wait----Of course not! You didn’t want to see what this guy was carrying around in his pants......

Or did you?

Trying to decide if you had too much to drink or not enough, you sat there for a few minutes longer weighing your options. On one hand, you could go in and see what he was proposing and if you didn’t like it, you could always back out. On the other hand, if you walk away now, you might be missing out on something that you didn’t realize you wanted. Heck, you never imagined you’d start the weekend off with a new friend. Perhaps you really did need to broaden your horizons.

Taking a deep breath, you stood from your chair and headed over to the bar where Jungkook, you’re pretty sure that was his name, had told you to hand the key over. The bartender seemed nice enough as he took the key and nodded his head with a soft ‘this way, my dear’. Oh boy. Here we go. No backing out now. It was now or never. You had half a mind to text Gigi what you were doing but something told you she didn’t miss the whole scene of you sitting in a stripper’s lap.

You were guided through a door that no doubt lead to a backstage type setting but you were totally not prepared for the scene you practically stumbled upon. Girls. So many girls. Some were half dressed while some walked around completely naked. Holy----Your eyes. Again, you weren’t a virgin but you might as well have been considering how warm your face had gotten. Some of them even giggled and flashed you cheeky winks. Oh boy. Apparently privacy wasn’t a thing around here. You could only hope there would be more privacy where you were headed.

Speaking of, after walking down two more hallways, the bartender finally reached a door and used that very same key to unlock a door before cracking it open just enough to let someone know you were here. Of course you could only presume it was Jungkook. Good lord. Hopefully there was no one else in the room. One stripper was all you could handle right now. And heck you couldn’t even handle that!

After the bartender politely bid you farewell, you found yourself gulping down a lump that had suddenly formed in your throat as you stared at the slightly cracked open door. This was it. Supposedly Jungkook was waiting on the other side. What if he was already naked??? Dear god maybe you should just politely decline and catch an Uber home. Yeah. That sounded like a good idea. Get a nice cup of black coffee and some headache pills so that you wouldn’t suffer a hango----

“You can come in, beautiful. It’s safe. I promise.”

Why did he have to sound so soothing and convincing for, huh?! Wishing you had a tall glass of ice water to jug down right about now, you did your best to brace yourself for what was on the other side of the door. Gosh your face already felt like it was on fire. How embarrassing! With a clammy and shaky hand, you put your weight on the door and eased it open further so that you could poke your head inside.

Oh.....

It looked so.....normal? Perhaps even.....casual and dare you say.......soothing?

It was pretty much set up like a master bedroom you’d find in any normal house. There was a mini bar set up with some expensive looking alcohol and drinking glasses already filled. Soft R&B music was playing in the background but the volume was so low that it indeed sounded like simple background noise. You could smell something. It was soothing but you could only guess it was coming from some kind of candle or maybe a diffuser.

“Hello there, sweetheart. I’m glad to see you took me up on my offer. I can assure you, I don’t bite. Unless of course you’re into that kind of thing.”

He was dressed so casually compared to the last time you saw him only moments ago. He was decked out for comfort despite what you believe his intentions were. Dark gray sweatpants and a matching hooded sweatshirt. They looked thin in material so it was probably just to help keep him modest while in your presence. His hair still had that wet look to it thanks to the mountain of products he probably had in it.

“Come sit with me and have a drink. Or would you prefer some water? You look quite flushed.”

“W-Water would be nice, thank you.”

Not realizing your legs had felt like jello, you managed to hobble your way over to the couch where you took a much needed seat. Your hands were still shaking a bit but perhaps it was just from the lingering nerves. The atmosphere really was soothing thanks to the dimmed lights that gave off a warm and soft glow; casting the perfect amount of shadow over everything. You were pretty sure you were smelling lavender and it was a comforting scent for sure.

“Here you go, love. Just try to relax. I’m not here to do anything you aren’t comfortable with. But you looked like you needed to loosen up. Maybe someone to talk to?”

Softly thanking him for the water, you tried not to chug it back but it was hard given how shook up you were. Not to mention your face still felt pretty warm. Perhaps you would have been better off to just splash yourself in the face with it instead. Managing to take a couple gulps without looking silly, you held the cup in your lap before looking over at him with guarded and curious eyes.

“So.....we just sit here and talk?”

“If that’s what you’re comfortable with? I’m at your service. Your wish is my command as the saying goes.”

His soft chuckles filled the room and you couldn’t help but find yourself smiling a little. Were all strippers this chill? Now that you thought about it, what made strippers different from anyone else? It wasn’t like they were some kind of exotic creature. They too were just normal, every day humans making a living. It wasn’t like they were a different kind of species.

Maybe this would be okay after all.

“So......you’re not here to give me a lap dance?”

“Oh my god! You’re so cute! I can’t!”

You watched in utter amazement as Jungkook, who had since been siting next to you on the couch, started to curl in on himself while he laughed; carefully holding his glass of whatever alcohol he was drinking in one hand while his other wrapped around his waist. Pouting and semi folding your arms due to the fact that you were still holding a glass of water, you mumbled in your own defense,

“What?! It’s a legit and reasonable question!”

Still pouting while watching and waiting for him to pull himself together, you decided to distract yourself with your glass of water. At least the blush in your face was letting up. Did that mean you were already getting comfortable with him? This guy.......He was like magic in that way. Knowing exactly what you needed to feel comfortable and relaxed. Then again.....he probably did this with everyone he brought back here. You suddenly felt the need to stand rather than sit on the couch.

“I swear, we’re only here to do whatever you want. So if you want a lap dance, I can do that. If you want to just sit here and chill, I can do that too.”

“But......why me? You had tons of other girls out there to pick from to bring back here. So why pick me? Clearly I’m an awkward turtle. Doesn’t exactly scream sexy.”

It was a fair question. A question that you were eager to have an answer for. Watching him closely, you noticed he was rubbing his chin in thought as if he was trying to find the right words to explain his reasoning behind bringing you back here. With a soft hum of said thought, Jungkook took a sip from his glass before replying casually while meeting your eyes,

“I guess you just looked.....lonely? Lost? You looked like you needed this. Clearly you didn’t come to a strip club by choice or at least not entirely. I could feel your tension clear across the stage. I was going to offer you a massage but I don’t want to do anything you aren’t comfortable with.”

Okay well that was fair. You couldn’t help but notice how good he was at reading people. Or perhaps you were just simply an open book. Yeah. It was probably that. You had often been told by everyone in your family that you carry your heart on your sleeve and your emotions along with it. Just as you were mentally scoffing at said family, Jungkook’s voice once again broke through your thoughts.

“Tell me, cutie, if it’s not too personal or prying to ask, when’s the last time you got laid?”

Well so much for that fading blush of yours. Granted, you knew you didn’t owe him an answer. Your sex life was your business and no one else’s. However....there was just something about Jungkook that made him easy to talk to. He gave off this aura of comfort and made you feel like you could tell him anything. With your cheeks still rosy and your ears just as red, you timidly sipped from your water again before mumbling in shame,

“Too long ago.”

But rather than laugh at you again, he offered you a sympathetic, lopsided smile; his eyes full of understanding and a small nod to go with it. You were grateful that he had picked up on the topic being a sensitive one for you and therefore respecting your feelings and not wanting to hurt you by poking fun. You watched him out of the corner of your eye as he set his glass down on the side table that was on his end of the couch.

“Well, to be frank, I’m more than willing to give you a lap dance if you think it’d help you relax and unwind. I personally think it’d be good for you. You’ve got too much pent up tension there and I think we’re both in agreement when I say everyone needs a good release every once in awhile.”

Was he inclining what you thought he was inclining???

“You mean you want to have sex with me?”

His soft snort of laughter made you pout once more while you subconsciously tried to fan your face. Sure the lighting was dim in the room but was it doing anything to hide your raging blush? With a soft and warm smile, Jungkook couldn’t help but shake his head at you in fond amusement. You really were the cutest. Dramatically raising his hands as in defense or surrender, he said casually,

“All I’m saying is, that I’m more than willing to make you cum, pretty girl. You really look like you need a good release. I have no doubt you’ll feel better afterwards. I’ve been told I have the golden touch.”

Despite your lingering embarrassment, you weren’t too far gone to roll your eyes at his overflowing humbleness. But now you had a decision to make. Clearly Jungkook was a safe guy to be around. He wasn’t some crazy trying to rape you or anything. Or at least you were pretty sure he was a decent guy with a straight head on his shoulders. Absentmindedly nibbling on your bottom lip, you took a moment longer to think about it.

“So......how exactly do you give me a lap dance? Do I sit in a chair or something?”

Gosh you were absolutely adorable. Precious, even. Jungkook swore that if you got any cuter, he was going to have to retire and ask you out on a date. Or at least ask for your number and maybe meet up for coffee. Did you like coffee? You probably did. You looked like a coffee drinker. He wondered what your favorite drink was. Mentally shaking his head and focusing on his job once more, he smiled with his eyes sparkling in warm amusement before saying casually,

“It all depends on what you’re comfortable with, really. I can also easily give you a little show on the bed. Actually, the bed would probably be more comfortable for you.”

He then added with a slightly more serious tone,

“But if you do decide this is something you want to do, just remember that you make the rules in this too. While I have my own set of guidelines, I’m only here to do what makes you comfortable.”

Nodding in full understanding, you bit your bottom lip once more as you decided if this was something you really wanted to go through with. Jungkook really was a handsome young man. You’d probably be stupid to turn him down. And it seemed like he was allowing you to call most of, if not all, the shots in this. He would only do what you asked of him. What you permitted him to do. That alone was comforting enough for you to say----

“So the bed?”

“The bed. Make yourself comfortable, baby girl. I’m gonna take good care of you. Promise.”

Your face flushed pink yet again with a small, shy pout as he flashed you a bright smile and cheeky wink. Good lord you were really going to do this. Okay. Okay. You could do this. You needed this. It wasn’t like you were entirely blind. Of course you needed a good release but you had just never been given the right push to get there. Not to mention it had never fit into your daily routine.

After all, you were all about the routine.

Perhaps Jungkook would become part of that daily set schedule of yours....

“It’s okay to keep your clothes on but you might find yourself more comfortable if you take them off. Just saying.”

He had a point. You were already warm thanks to your permanent blush. This was it. Time to throw all caution out the window and just go for it. You weren’t a teenager having her first time. No. You were a young woman with a body to be proud of. You deserved this. Steeling yourself up with that confident mindset, you nodded and started to undress till you were left in only your black bra, matching panties, and your stockings.

Seeing that you had started to warm up to the idea and was becoming more comfortable with things, Jungkook decided it was his cue to finally get into character while being mindful of your shy nature. He felt like a lion and you were his little lamb. So pure and yet easily frightened. There was just something about you that spoke out to him. He wanted to help you. And that urge confused even himself.

“Okay, beautiful, I’m going to start now.”

With his hands reaching back for his light sweatshirt, he couldn’t resist adding with a smile and a bit of a warm and playful glint in his eyes,

“You look absolutely gorgeous, by the way. Keep those stockings on too.”

While mumbling a soft and shy thanks, you watched him as he did that super hot thing guys do when taking off their shirt. That thing where they magically tug the piece of material over their head from the back. Why was it so hot, anyway?? Was that just something every woman came to accept? It must have worked on you because Jungkook’s soft chuckles filled the room once more. Looking up into his eyes, you noticed he was rather smug and pleased with himself.

“Like what you see, cutie?”

“Well----I mean----You have a nice body. So yeah. I guess I do.”

You hated how choppy your sentences sound but it was like this guy knew how to turn your brain into absolute mush. You were already like putty in his hands and he had only taken his shirt off with those sweatpants hanging perfectly from his hips. Perhaps you really did need to get laid....

Just then, you watched as he started to swivel those very hips in a way that had you involuntarily gulping and pressing your thighs together. The last thing you wanted to do was make a mess of this bed. But then again.....perhaps that was part of Jungkook’s plan for you. He said he wanted to make you cum, after all. You hadn’t realized your throat and lips were so dry till you sucked in a breath at a particularly sudden hip thrust. Oh wow. He was so good!!

You definitely made the right decision to go along with this.

“Touch yourself if you need to, baby girl. It’s okay to explore.”

“I-I’m good. Just ke-keep going-ing.”

You could get used to his warm chuckles of amusement. It felt good to know that he wasn’t really laughing at you in a sense of mocking you. It was more like.....maybe he found you endearing? Whatever it was, you were just glad he wasn’t mocking you or belittling you for your lack of experience in all of this. Despite being a stripper, that certainly didn’t make Jungkook a bad guy.

You could actually see yourself sitting down with him over a cup of coffee. You wondered if he even liked coffee? He seemed like the kind of guy that you might find in a cafe sipping on a nice iced Americano.

“Focus, baby. Try not to let your mind wander or you’ll miss all the fun.”

He must have realized you were really zoning out and getting lost in your thoughts because after blinking mental images of coffee shops away, you nearly choked when you saw that he had stripped away his sweatpants and was left standing in front of you with nothing but his boxer briefs on. Dang he was built! He had to be pure muscle. Had to be!

Unknowingly licking your dry lips and swallowing a new lump in your throat, you decided to make yourself more comfortable by scooting back further onto the bed where you could rest your back up against the pillows and headboard. Once you were in a good spot, you turned your attention back to Jungkook and found he had somewhat of a dangerous smirk on his face. Oh boy....

“You really do look beautiful, baby girl. I can’t wait to take care of you like you deserve. If you’ll have me, of course.”

Not able to find your voice, you simply nodded while subconsciously playing with your fingers in your lap; thighs still pressed tightly together. Grinning, the male made sure to move his hips just right as he approached the foot of the bed. You couldn’t help but wonder what his game plan was to take care of you. And that was when he tilted his head to the side in curiosity and asked in a light tone,

“May I join you, lovely?”

“Ye--Yeah.”

“Wonderful. Let me know if I do anything that makes you uncomfortable, okay?”

Still not having much of a voice, you simply nodded and watched him approach you like a predator after his prey. That smirk was back as he slowly climbed onto the bed; the mattress dipping under his weight. You could hear your own heart pounding in your ears as the anticipation built. This was your last chance to back out but for some reason you remained silent. Perhaps you really did want this.

The next thing you knew, he was gently running his hand along your one leg while his lips were ghosting up the other. Goosebumps rose from your skin at his touch and yet your core was starting to get hotter and hotter. Perhaps Jungkook really did have the golden touch? You felt your breath catch when he finally started planting actual kisses to your leg; starting with your knee. He was being so gentle and slow. Something that you were extremely grateful for.

“Your skin is super soft, baby. You must take really good care of your body. I can appreciate that in a woman.”

“Th--Thanks. I try.”

Jungkook knew you were extremely nervous despite your agreement to go along with this so he wanted to take things slow and sort of ease you into the whole idea of what he had planned for you. As he finally reached up to your thighs, he couldn’t help but playfully nip at the delicious skin that greeted him. Your little yelp and jump was so cute. With his head nearly resting on your thigh, he couldn’t help but sneak a glance up at you.

Your face was so red and you knew it was. Hardly anything sexy to look at but to Jungkook you were so precious and endearing. He could just eat you right up. Lucky for you that was exactly his plan. Planting a soothing kiss over his little bite mark, he then moved up to where he was eye level with your cleavage but still looking up at you with eyes dark while full of excitement and curiosity. Licking his lips, he asked,

“May I?”

Upon seeing your timid nod of approval, he smiled more warmly before moving his eyes to his latest target. You had really nice breasts from what he could tell. Just the right size, too. Not being able to help himself any longer, he moved till he was more comfortable on his knees and gently took one of your soft mounds into his large hand. Oh yeah. You were soft. And just like that, a small moan fell from your lips. Like music to his ears.

“Don’t hold back, beautiful. I won’t know if I’m doing a good job if I can’t hear you.”

Knowing it was something you enjoyed, he decided to give your other breast his attention as well by using his free hand. With both palms now happily occupied as they slowly massaged your supple mounds, he couldn’t help but let his lips wander. Their next target? Your neck. He briefly wondered if it was a sensitive spot of yours because it would definitely seem your breasts were sensitive. He rolled his thumbs over your nipples and could feel them harden through the fabric of your bra.

“So beautiful. I bet your tits are absolutely divine. Would you let me see them, baby girl?”

You shivered and released a shaky moan as his lips lightly brushed up against the length of your neck. His hands were amazing and he had hardly touched you. There was a small voice in the back of your head that was screaming at you to say no. That this guy was still a complete stranger and had no business seeing your tits. However, this stranger was also making you feel things you didn’t realize you needed or wanted.

“Ye--Ye---Yeah. You can.”

Being careful as if not to frighten you away, he removed his hands from your bosom so that he could slowly and gently reach around you to unclasp your bra. While his deft fingers worked on the clasps, his lips found their way to your neck once more where he started planting soft, open mouthed kisses. Once he freed you from the confines of your bra, he slowly dragged the straps down your arms before taking the thing off completely.

Tossing the black bra somewhere behind him, he couldn’t peel his eyes away from the sight in front of him. You really were quite pretty and he wasn’t just talking about your tits. Although they were nice too. Absentmindedly licking his lips in eagerness, he couldn’t help but mumble,

“You’re absolutely gorgeous, my lovely. Do me a favor and lay down for me. I’m going to worship this body a little bit longer.”

Worship you? It just didn’t sound right to your ears. Then again, your self-esteem always did need a bit of work. Blushing to the point of lightly fanning your face once more, you nodded and timidly wiggled in between his legs so that you could comfortably rest your head on the pillows. Staring up at him with your eyes full of curiosity yet uncertainty, you asked shyly in a small tone,

“What are you gonna do?”

You poor thing. Had no one really ever treated you to something like this? And he wasn’t even going all out. For some reason, it really irked him at the thought that no man had ever truly took time to appreciate your body like this. However, not wanting you to think he was grumpy with you or having second thoughts, Jungkook wore a warm smile with softened eyes and spoke sincerely but with a hint of teasing in his voice,

“Well since you look positively delicious, I was thinking of eating you.”

Not giving you time to respond, he added slowly while his lips drew closer and closer to your bosom,

“First, I want to suck on these pretty tits of yours. Then.....”

You watched with a slightly heaving chest as he gracefully crawled down your body till his lips were just centimetres away from the waist line of your panties. His intense staring of your core was making you squirm and a soft whine slipped out before you could bite your tongue. His grin suddenly came back as his eyes flickered to make direct contact with your own.

“Then I’ll eat you out like you deserve. You’re a goddess and that’s how I intend to treat you.”

The next thing you knew, words were flying out of your mouth on your own accord.

“Can we just skip the tits and you eat me out now? I don’t think I can wait any longer. It’s killing me to wait.”

It really had been forever since you last did anything. Whether it be at the hands of someone else or yourself. You were quickly getting used to the permanent blush on your face and your embarrassment was quickly being replaced with impatience as you stared down at him where he was perched between your legs.

Yep. He was going to retire, quit stripping, and sweep you off your feet; carrying you out into the sunset to live happily ever after. You were just too freaking cute for words. He liked them shy and innocent because then he could completely ravish them till they were ruined and begging for more. You were totally his type. Grinning like a fox, he teasingly gripped the waist line of your panties between his teeth and tugged only to let them snap back against your skin before saying in a low tone,

“Well I did say your wish was my command.”

It wasn’t till he was lifting himself up to rest on his knees and thighs that you realized just how worked up you had gotten. The sexual frustration was starting to get the best of you; especially as you were sobering up pretty quickly. Not having realized that you had spread your legs for him at some point in the game, you simply spread them wider so that he’d have plenty of room to do whatever it was he had in store for you.

That fox-like grin still on his face, Jungkook couldn’t help but lean back down onto his elbows so that he could gently nuzzle your chest before planting soft kisses around your nipples. You were torn between whining and moaning as you both enjoyed the touch but also grew all the more impatient for where you really wanted him. After releasing a soft groan of pleasure, you couldn’t help but gently tug on his soft locks in warning while saying in a whining tone,

“Jungkoooook. Stoooop. You said you’d eat me out now!”

His rock hard body shook gently against your own as he chuckled at your adorable display of impatience. He was pleased to see you finally letting go and allowing yourself this moment. It had been a task and a half, but he finally got you here. Planting one last kiss to the underside of your breast, he slithered down your body like the seducing snake he could be and finally started planting kisses down your stomach to the waist line of your black panties.

“I’m sorry, love. But I can’t help myself. You’re just too beautiful not to admire.”

However, playtime was over. Gently tapping your thigh, he gave you the cue to lift your bum so that he could slip off your panties more easily. With a blink of an eye, you were left with nothing but your stockings which Jungkook had insisted you keep on because it made you look all the more sexy to him. You couldn’t tell if his compliments were sincere or not but you were so wound up that you didn’t really care at this point.

“God you look absolutely delicious. I can’t wait to taste you, baby girl.”

His words made your walls clench around nothing and it only caused more slick to pool between your thighs as Jungkook had since gotten himself more comfortable between your legs, throwing them over his shoulders. Gosh he was so muscular. You could see his muscles bulge as he worked on positioning you right where he wanted you. You both licked your lips as eyed each other with equal amounts of hunger.

You watched him lower his head before feeling his tongue for the first time. Eyes instantly snapping shut, you felt your back arch off the bed and a moan fall from your lips. Yes. Jungkook not only had the magic touch, but he had the magic tongue. You were certain of it. The male gently dug his shortened nails into the meat of your thighs as he too let out a moan of his own. You tasted just as wonderful has he imagined you would.

“God, babe. You’re delicious. You’re spoiling me here. Where have you been all my life?”

“I-I d-d-du-dunno.”

Your thighs started to shake when you felt his tongue flick over your sensitive bundle of nerves. Maybe it was because someone else was touching you but not even your most expensive vibrator could make you feel this good. Needing something to ground you, your hands found their way into his mess of hair and you found yourself gently tugging on the soft locks that lay between your fingers. The action made Jungkook moan and you felt the vibrations with full force.

The male enjoyed having his hair pulled despite how dominate he naturally was. He considered hair pulling one of the many signs that he was doing a good job and that was something that had always been important to him. He enjoyed making others feel good. One of the few reasons he hadn’t quit his job as a stripper. But there was something about you.......He just couldn’t place it.

You really did taste amazing, though. His eagerness was more genuine than for show. Wanting to increase your pleasure, he pressed his face harder into your core, his nose buried in your scent while his tongue got to taste you to the fullest. You were so warm and wet. Jungkook could only imagine how you’d feel around his cock. Which had since grown hard within his boxer briefs. Gosh it was always the cute and shy ones that turned him on the most.

As he went back to teasing your clit and sucking it with hunger, he heard your moans coming to a halt as you half shouted in a desperate tone,

“Jungkook-----I want your cock! Please! I need you in me! Now!”

Well that escalated quickly.

However, he wanted to make absolutely sure this was something you wanted. Pulling his face away from your core, he looked up at you through his eyelashes with eyes that had grown dark with lust. Yours too were just as dark which was a huge contrast to the innocent shine they had shown only moments ago. You suddenly weren’t so shy and definitely not innocent.

You were a total wreck at this point. Your mind was a mess but you knew what you wanted. You had long sobered up from what few drinks you had and you knew this was something you wanted. Something you needed. It had truly been awhile since you last experienced an orgasm and you were long overdue for one. Jungkook, stranger or not, was your ticket to release and nothing was going to stand in your way.

Not even your routine.

“Please, Jungkook. Please.”

“Easy, baby girl. I’ve got you. I’ll take really good care of you.”

Releasing your legs and climbing off the bed for just a moment, he could feel your eyes on him as he fished out a condom from one of the side drawers. You were so wrecked and it was a beautiful sight. Your eyes hooded with your chest heaving. He had hardly touched you. Poor thing, you must be really sensitive.

Climbing back onto the bed, he made quick work of ripping the package and rolling the condom onto his rock hard length. You really did turn him on. Normally, he had to work himself to full mast but you being you.....it was no problem. Perhaps you yourself was magic too. Given his line of work, it wasn’t often he found a client who could turn him on as much as you did.

“You’re going to feel so good around my cock, baby girl. You sure you don’t want me to stre-----”

“No! Please! I’m good. I promise. Just hurry! Want you so bad!”

Jungkook had no doubt that you could have quite the dirty mouth on you if you were to let yourself go far enough. It was almost hard to believe that just mere moments ago, you were this shy young woman who wouldn’t dare do something so scandalous as having sex with a stripper. Yet here you were, desperate under his touch. He loved it. Thrived in it.

The lion had his little lamb right where he wanted her.

Not wanting to keep you waiting any longer, he made himself comfortable between your legs once more before aligning himself with your sopping entrance. You were so beautiful with your face all flushed and chest rising and falling at a slightly rapid pace. Your soft locks sprawled all over the pillow. So so pretty. And all for him. Trying to focus, he slowly eased himself forward till he could feel the tip of his length nudge your entrance. God you were so warm. He could only imagine how wonderful you’d feel once he was fully inside you.

“You’re so freaking tight, baby girl. It really has been awhile, huh?”

“God too long! Too long! Please! Ruin me, Jungkook!”

He knew it. You could be a dirty little girl if you’d just let yourself loose from your own leash. He certainly hoped this wouldn’t be the last time the two of you saw each other. You were a real treat in his book. A treat he wanted again and again. Someone he could easily become addicted to being around if you’d let him.

He could feel your velvety walls clenching around him as you were stuffed full for the first time in a long while. Not wanting you to go into some sort of shock, he gently rubbed your sides with his warm hands in soothing, repetitive motions. Leaning down, he gently planted kisses along your face. Just anything to take your mind off the slight sting he knew you’d feel.

“Deep breaths, baby. Deep breaths. You’re right here and I’m not going to let anything hurt you, okay?”

“Ss-s-so full.”

“I know, baby. I know. Bet you’ve never had cock this good, huh?”

“Ne-Never. Never ever. Ss-so good.”

You were already ruined and he hadn’t even moved. You poor poor thing. Depriving yourself for so long of something so good. Well he was going to make sure you didn’t miss out any longer. Feeling your body ease up from underneath him, he took that as a silent signal to start moving his hips. God you felt so good around him. His length involuntarily twitched what little it could while being buried inside your warm wet walls.

“You feel just as good, babe. So warm and tight. Just the way I like it. You were made for me, baby girl.”

Your moans filled the room along with his own as you found your arms wrapping around him to gently dig your nails into his muscular back. You needed something to hold onto despite his slow and easy pace. While you appreciated him taking things slow......you had long since grown impatient. Testing the waters since you really hadn’t done much yourself, you bucked your hips at just the right time so that they collided with his own.

Yeah. That felt good.

With a soft growl of pleasure, Jungkook found himself staring heavily into your eyes as he said in a low and slightly threatening tone,

“Ooohhh. So baby girl likes it rough, does she? Well two can play at this game. Let’s see if you can keep up.”

Oh boy.....

And just like that, the male pulled out of you only for him to flip you over onto your hands and knees. All the sounds you could make were soft yelps of surprise before suddenly feeling him ram his hips into yours; successfully sheathing himself deep inside you once more. The action alone caused a loud moan to fall from your lips as you hung your head; body slightly shaking with overwhelming pleasure.

“Yes! Yes, Jungkook! Please! More!”

“Greedy little lamb! So eager for my cock. Gonna absolutely ruin you! Fuck you so good you’ll forget your own name and only remember mine!”

The room became filled with your moans along with the sounds of skin slapping against skin as Jungkook pounded into you from behind; his hands gripping your hips till he left marks. You had never been with someone who was so strong. His movements were so powerful that he was making the bed shake as well as yourself. Your moans came out shaky from how he managed to move your body with his powerful thrusts. You then felt him drape himself over your back.

He reached around you so that one hand could massage your breast and play with your nipple while his other hand slithered down to where he found your clit. It had already been a challenge for you to stay on all fours when he started ramming his hips into yours; let alone when he started feeling up your weak spots. God you had no idea you were so sensitive till Jungkook came along. It was like he already knew your body like the back of his hand.

“Jj-Ju-Jungko-oo-ok. I’m cl-cl-close!!”

“Already, baby girl? Surly you can last a little longer till I get there, hmm? Can you wait for me, beautiful?”

Normally, he could care less when his clients came. Sometimes, the sooner the better. But with you? Jungkook was just having way too much fun and you really did feel amazing. However, there was also that little nagging voice in the back of his head whining about how he didn’t want to let you leave. There was so much he wanted to ask you. Hell, he wanted to get to know you. Which he still hadn’t figured out why. Maybe you were just an easily likable person?

Your moans were even cute as you let out all your pent up sexual frustration. However, his strength must have gotten the better of you because he watched your arms finally give out from under you. Acting quickly, he used his own arms to lift you up so that you were leaning back into him; the both of you now on your knees.

With his nose buried in the crook of your neck, he began to place sloppy kisses to your heated skin while an arm wrapped around your chest; massaging your breast while that other hand went back to work on rubbing figure eights into your clit. He could feel your thighs shaking and quivering as he slowly but surely brought you to your end. He could tell you were close from the way your walls clenched around his length repeatedly.

Then you surprised him by reaching back behind the both of you to try and grab at his ass. Well well well. We’re you getting a little brave? He couldn’t help but smile against the expanse of your neck before gently biting down on the skin and sucking it gently; leaving his mark for you to remember him by tomorrow.

“Jungkook!! Please!! Please let me cum!!”

“Go for it, baby girl. Cream all over my cock. Be a good little lamb and cum for me.”

Definitely not needing to be told twice, you could feel the knot in your lower belly finally snap and your release hitting you like a tidal wave. It was so easy and natural for you to scream out his name as your body arched and shook against his own. You were so lost in your bliss that you didn’t realize he had a protective hold on you while he too found his own end; releasing into the condom. Shame you couldn’t have felt him fill you up instead.

The only sounds filling the room were the soft music coming from Jungkook’s phone along with both of your heavy breathing. You could feel his heart pounding against your back as you had to lean against him for support; thankful that he was still holding you up. However, it wasn’t long till he gently pulled himself from you entirely before easing you down onto the mattress like a real gentleman.

“Let me go dispose of this and get a wash cloth to clean you up, okay baby?”

Still floating on your cloud bliss, you simply nodded your head against the pillows while hearing him chuckle once more. You felt like dead weight but it was a good kind of feeling. Whew. How much tension had you really held inside you for all this time? You had no idea how badly you needed this. Sex with a complete stranger. Who would have thought this was how you spiced up your life and broadened your horizon.

Just as your eyes were about to close completely, you heard him come back and ask casually,

“So are you a coffee drinker?”

[fangirlxwritesx67]

Special Occasion

Sam x Rowena, 2750 words Summary: Sam loves all the pretty little sexy things his lover wears. When she hints that she might like him to take a turn in the lingerie, he plans a surprise for her.  (This story fits in the Celebrations AU) 

With all the thanks to @cracksinthewalls, @there-must-be-a-lock​ and @mskathywriteswords​. Longer AN at the end. 

*** It was late morning, or early afternoon, Sam never really kept track of time when he was with Rowena. He woke up slowly and rolled to face her. She still slept, her curls spilling over the satin of her pillowcase, a deep blue-green color that made her skin, even in sleep, seem to glow. He leaned over to kiss her softly, and without opening her eyes, she shook her head.  “Beauty sleep,” she murmured, and he couldn’t help but chuckle. It was an old joke between them, her insisting that at her age, beauty sleep was a must; and him replying that she could sleep all she wanted but she could never look more beautiful.  He trailed his lips warmly over her jawline to the shell of her ear, where he whispered, “What if I make you tea?” That got her to look at him, the sleepiest of glances, and the tiniest nod. He got out of bed, pulled on jeans, and padded out to the kitchen barefoot. Rowena had this electric tea kettle thing that turned out to be surprisingly handy for all the cups of tea she drank. The habit had grown on him, and this morning, he was preparing two cups of Five Roses. No sooner had he gotten out the teacups than he heard Rowena’s light footsteps. He turned around to see her yawning as she slipped into a chair at the table.  “What?” he teased as he placed her tea in front of her. “Do you think I need supervision to make a simple cup of tea?” She arched her brows over the rim of the cup as she lifted it and lazily blew on the steam rising from it. He took the moment to look at her. She had slipped into a light green robe with swirls on it. Paisleys, maybe, he thought, but he wasn’t sure. He didn’t have the words for half the things she wore. He didn’t have the words for her.

“Can I have a biscuit, my dear?” Her request interrupted his thoughts. 

Sam shook his head but obeyed. As he set the tin of shortbread down on the table, he asked her, “You always get whatever you want, don’t you?”

“As long as you’re here to give it to me,” she retorted. The glint in her green eyes, the saucy curve of her lips, hinted at much more than tea and biscuits. 

Instead of answering, he bent to kiss her. His hand skimmed over her shoulder and down her back to pull her closer. The green robe was sleek under his touch. It felt good, and he took a moment to enjoy the sensation of smooth fabric against his calloused palms. “I like this. I don’t think I’ve ever seen it before.”

“Of course you haven’t.” Rowena acted almost offended at his suggestion that she would wear the same thing twice. 

Sam was pretty sure her closet was part of some magic spell, because there was no way this apartment had room for half the beautiful things she wore, even if some of them were nothing more than bits of sheer cloth and lace. 

“Too bad I just have to take it off of you,” Sam teased as he folded to his knees in front of the chair where she was seated. 

“Oh do you?” She lowered her gaze and batted her lashes, putting on the tiniest pout. She was flirting hard, but he was such a sucker for it. She took a long drink from the teacup. 

“Maybe not yet,” he murmured as he pushed the hem up over her pale thighs, parting them with his fingers before pulling her forward. He trailed kisses up from her knee to her warm center, and when his lips finally pressed against her there, he heard the cup hit the saucer with a shaky ringing sound. 

*** Rowena forgot about everything when she had Sam between her legs like that. He was so good, knew her body so well. Sometimes he drew it out, teased her, made her beg. Not today. He seemed as eager to please her as she was to be pleasured. 

He drew a soft orgasm from her easily with nothing but his lips and tongue. It was her first of the day, but she knew it was far from the last. ***

Rowena was still trembling when Sam scooped her up in his arms and carried her back to bed, her body warm and yielding under the robe. 

“You know,” she said as she settled back against the pillows, eyes wide and sparkling, “It’s not only women who can wear beautiful things.” 

“Oh?” Sam grinned, trying to think of what she could be getting at. “Do you have a me-sized robe in that magic closet of yours? Want to dress me up in something short and shiny?”

“Please,” she whispered, but if she meant, “Please as if I would waste the space” or “Please I wish you would” he didn’t know. Maybe please was a response to the way he was rising up over her, pinning her wrists back with his hands, nudging her legs apart with one knee to open her up for him. 

In the close heat of her desire, Sam forgot all about the conversation. 

But he remembered later, when he went back home to the bunker. Thinking about the whole thing made him feel some confusing feelings. A little curiosity, more than a little embarrassment, but also, if he was honest, kinda turned on. It wasn’t unpleasant, just unfamiliar. So one day when he had his laptop open, he started searching.

He had picked out lingerie for Rowena before, so he started on those sites, but it was very obvious very quickly that nothing there would fit him.

Then he typed in “lingerie for men.” For the most part, it was a series of very brief underpants, many of them paired with a collar or cuffs that were somehow supposed to indicate a character. He browsed with an increasing sense of confusion, wondering if Rowena wanted him to look like a cowboy or a Chippendale’s dancer. 

“Whoa there.” Dean’s voice startled him and he slammed the laptop shut. “When you said you were doing research I didn’t think --”

Sam leapt to his feet and turned to face his brother. He could feel himself blushing, but he may as well be honest. “It’s not what you think.”

“Look, dude, some of those guys are good looking. I get it.” 

Sam tried to nod and shake his head at once, and ended up just heaving out a big sigh. “It’s not that. It’s Rowena.” 

“Oh I should’ve known, that kinky little witch!” Dean laughed, head thrown back and shoulders shaking. “Wait. Do you really think she wants you to look like a Halloween store Village People?” 

Sam smacked his brother across the back affectionately. “Some help you are.”

Dean calmed down at that. He put one hand on Sam’s arm. “Think of what the lady wears. Slinky things, lace, garter stockings, right? That’s what she likes.” 

Before Sam could ask how Dean was so sure Rowena wore a garter belt, he was gone. Maybe it was obvious, or maybe it was that one case where she had hidden a cursed dagger in the band of her stockings. 

He waited, looking over his shoulder as he opened the laptop, and carefully typed in, “garter belt for men.” Ohhhh. Maybe it was because of how strongly he associated them with Rowena. Maybe it was because they were at once more serious and more soft than the silly outfits he found first. For whatever reason, he liked these more. They looked sexy. 

Sam ordered a bunch of things, not the incredibly complicated things that were mostly straps, or the leather things. He didn’t think he was ready for that. But he got a garter belt, and a couple of pairs of stockings. He got a few different panties, because how was he supposed to know if he liked briefs or bikinis? He ordered it all in black, because that was foolproof. 

He didn’t think he should be barefoot for this look, but he was also pretty sure he couldn't walk in heels. Instead he bought a pair of low heeled men’s dress boots, reasoning that he could always wear them when he was pretending to be the FBI. 

He remembered how much he liked the feel of Rowena’s robe under his fingers, so he got himself a short robe too. And with that, he gave himself an out -- if she hated this look, if he felt too silly, he could just put on the robe until he could escape to the bathroom and take it all off. 

Sam waited with nervous excitement until the packages arrived, and then he tried on his new things. He tore the first pair of stockings he tried on, and then a quick internet search informed him that he had to roll them up from the toes. He thought about shaving, but ultimately decided against it. He was already putting in a lot of work to look good. 

He hadn’t much thought about looking good before, or putting effort into appearing sexy. Clothes for him had always been a necessity, something he bought cheaply and used until they wore out. What he liked hadn’t ever mattered much. And buying something this impractical? It was an entirely new experience. Even the robe was more revealing and indulgent than anything he had ever owned. 

But he did want to do what Rowena asked, loved the idea of giving her a happy surprise. So he texted her. When can I come see you again?

Friday. I’ll be out until dinner but you have the key.

Perfect.

He arranged for a late dinner to be delivered and got there early, giving himself plenty of time to get dressed. Belt and stockings, boots, a pair of satin panties trimmed with lace. He wrapped the robe over top, tying it shut at his waist while he waited. 

He found himself pacing the floor, listening to the strike of his heels. He kept the lights off but lit all the candles scattered around the room. He hoped he wasn't wrong. He hoped this was what Rowena wanted. He had paused for a moment to look out the window, trying to calm his racing heart, when the door opened. 

"Samuel?” He heard the surprise in her familiar lilting tone. 

*** Rowena knew Sam was there, sensed he was up to something. But never in all her three hundreds years had she thought she would see him all dressed up in bits of lace. 

“Ohhhhh,” she sighed softly. 

Even in her favorite fantasies, nothing she had imagined had prepared her for the way Sam looked. When he stepped away from her window, broad shoulders backlit by the city below, there was the slightest sway to his walk, a little sass she had never seen before.

When she untied his robe, felt the cool silk brush against his warm skin, and saw what he was wearing underneath -- it was all she could do not to fall to her knees in front of him right there. He had the longest legs she had ever seen, and yet the stockings fit perfectly, hugging the shape of his calves and his sculpted thighs. 

That broad expanse of bare skin, so warm and golden, framed in the skimpiest bits of black satin -- the contrast of his strength with the delicacy of the lace -- he looked like a god, and he was hers, all hers to worship. 

She wasn’t sure who moved first, him or her, just that suddenly she was in his arms, pressed up against the length of his body as he bent to kiss her, dark hair brushing her face before his lips ever met hers. She had always loved his height compared to hers, the way he could loom over her if he wanted, and his heeled boots only emphasized it. She slipped her fingers around his waist, enjoying the texture of fabric under her touch, and under it, the curve of his perfect ass. 

***

Rowena held out her hand and Sam took it, lacing his fingers in with hers and allowing her to lead him to the bedroom. She flicked on the bedside lamps to get a better view. Sam tried to stand in an attractive way but he had no idea how. As her gaze took him in from head to toe, he grew self conscious. 

"I'll bet I look pretty silly,” he said. 

***

“Silly, never. Pretty --” 

Pretty didn’t even begin to touch it. Beautiful, maybe, the way a piece of art was beautiful, an astounding specimen of the human form. She looked him over from head to toe. He tried to pose, the mighty hunter suddenly awkward, but she could see how he was trying, how every much he wanted her to like this, and it made him all the more endearing. 

When her gaze settled on his face, she saw hesitancy, as if he was afraid to disappoint her, but not a shred of shame. In fact, he looked almost proud, an impossibly delicious smirk curling his lips and pushing dimples into his sculpted cheeks. 

But there was more to it. Sam was so dead earnest, nothing silly or joking about him, only a burning desire to please. Even through his shyness, she could tell, he was also faintly aware that he looked amazing. He knew the effect he was having on her, was getting turned on by feeling desirable, and his kaleidoscope eyes sparkled with delight. 

***

Rowena laid her hand on Sam’s chest. He obeyed her slighted touch, settling on the edge of the bed. Then he drew her in close to stand between his knees, a familiar position that put their faces at the same height. 

“You like this?” he asked. The look she gave him, all sizzling desire, would’ve been answer enough. Her eyes and hands roamed his body before she finally spoke. 

"You have no idea,” she said, closing her sweet mouth over his for a passionate open mouthed kiss. She trailed her fingers slowly up his thighs, over the seams of his stockings, treating him to the most delicious friction as the delicate netting tugged and shifted over his legs.

"I had no idea,” he gasped. “Feels good, so good --"

But before he could finish the thought, she folded to the floor in front of him.  Her touch trailed under the bands of his stockings, sharp nails brushing his skin. She wound the straps of his garter belt around her fingers and twisted. He felt the close tugging friction all the way around his hips. 

Leaning forward, she closed her lips over him through the satin and lace of his panties. It was the most amazing feeling, damp and close but still muted by the silky fabric. All other words deserted him except for her name.

"Rowena." He sighed. "What --"

"Just enjoy this," she purred before her lips closed around him again. Her hands slipped around his waist and into the back of his panties to cup his ass. When she spoke again, she murmured the words against his skin. "Such a good boy, doing whatever I ask."

She pleasured him until he was breathing hard, until his fingers tangled in her long red curls, until he could no longer hold back a ragged moan. Then she pulled away, standing up to strip down to her own intricate lingerie. 

She tied his hands up with the sash from his robe before settling astride him. He tolerated that just long enough for her to get off, and then turned the tables with the sash around her shoulders, holding her close. The two of them reveled in each other's bodies and all the sensations of lace and silk. Over and over, orgasm after orgasm, curses and cries and laughter all mingled together. 

When they were finally sated, both of them long since bare before one another, Sam turned towards Rowena. She was already facing him in bed, freckled skin flushed, curls tousled and clinging around her face. 

“I always knew you liked the garter belt and stockings.” 

She just raised her brows and batted her lashes slowly. “I think you like them too.” 

He cupped her face in one broad hand and she met his kiss-bitten lips with her own, one more time. 

“Maybe.” He winked broadly. “But only for special occasions.”  *** AN: this started in a writing chat when I asked, “How many times is too many times for one character to wear a garter belt and stockings?” @cracksinthewalls answered: “Rowena wears them every day, but Sam, only on special occasions.  @there-must-be-a-lock wrote a head canon on this that also involved a certain angel.  Pictures were exchanged (purely for scientific purposes, of course) and now ... here we are. @cracksinthewalls and @mskathywriteswords​ provided the prereads. It’s a little different for me but I hope you enjoy! 

SPN First Last and Always: @boondoctorwho​​ @dawnie1988​​ @deanwanddamons​​ @defenderrosetyler​​ @divadinag​​ @emoryhemsworth​​ @fookinghelljensensthighs​​ @idreamofplaid​​ @kalesrebellion​​ @kickingitwithkirk​​ @maddiepants​​ @magssteenkamp​​ @onethirstyunicorn​​   @there-must-be-a-lock​​ @thinkinghardhardlythinking​ @tloveswriting​​

Sam Girl For Life: @awesomesusiebstuff @lilsylvia​ @sammit-janet​ @lovealways-j

Rowena My Queen: @delightfullykrispypeach​​ @lilsylvia​​ @pansexualdarling​​ @songofthecagedmoose​​

[hutchhitched]

At Least a Foot

Author/creator: hutchhitched Square filled and prompt: G4, hot chocolate (image)  Title: At Least a Foot  Rating: G Summary: With snow in the forecast, Peeta makes a run to the grocery store so he can keep his roommate and best friend Katniss full of hot chocolate. Word count: 1191 Author’s/Creator’s notes: There’s something thrilling about the rush of grocery store shopping when a storm’s on the way. I have many, many fond memories.

_______________ 

The wind blows, and Katniss Everdeen looks up from her book and stares out the window. It’s dark, only a lone streetlight shining dimly in the gloomy night. There’s nothing quite like winter in West Virginia, especially as the days grow shorter, counting down to the equinox. She hates it—hates everything about the cold and the snow and the freezing temps that remind her of all the bad things that have ever happened to her.

 Peeta Mellark, her roommate and best friend, knocks gently, and she shifts her gaze toward him. He smiles encouragingly at her, a mug of hot chocolate in his hands and holds it out for her to take. She accepts gratefully, taking a sip and closing her eyes at the taste. Peeta makes the absolute best hot chocolate in the world. He always knows just the right number of marshmallows to add, too. It’s like a sixth sense of his, and she’s the one lucky enough to benefit from it.

 “Just watched the weather forecast, and it looks bad,” he informs her. “I think I better make a grocery store run in case we’re stuck for a few days. We’re running low on the staples. You want anything in particular?”

 She looks at him, blinking like an owl. She has half a mind to tear into him, but that’s going a bit far, even for her. She’s never been the touchy-feely type, but she’s always civil. At least until someone proves they deserve otherwise.

 “You’re going out? It’s starting to snow.”

 “Well, yeah,” he answers, but he tries to placate, as well. “It won’t be long. I promise. We need some things. You know how it gets on this street when there’s significant accumulation, and all forecasts are calling for that. I know we won’t starve, but do you really want to be trapped here without any way to make more of that drink you’re holding?”

She considers her mug and shakes her head sadly. Peeta’s right. They’re almost out of milk and eggs and bread, and they don’t have too many rolls of toilet paper left either. They both know better, so Peeta’s only correcting the mistake both of them helped make.

 “Will you get some of those frozen cheese dough things? They’re so good,” she asks hopefully. “And maybe some cans of lamb stew. You know those are my favorite.”

 “Anything sweet?”

 “Not if you’ll keep me stocked in this.” She indicates her drink, and he nods in acknowledgement.

 Crossing to her, he brushes a lock of hair off her forehead and kisses her there. “Be back soon. Leave the light on for me.”

 The house is quiet after he leaves with only the howling wind blowing outside and the creaks and groans of floorboards filling the silence. He won’t be gone long, she knows, perhaps only an hour before he’s safely home and bearing dozens of bags with her favorite snacks. They’ve known each other for so long, they practically communicate by telepathy. The only reason he bothered to ask her what she wants from the store was to let her know he was leaving.

 She gives up trying to read the book. Instead, she moves to the living room and stands at the back window where she can watch the woods behind her house as the snow turns from swirling flakes to fat, heavy droplets. It’s the kind of snow that shuts down interstates and breaks tree branches if there’s enough accumulation, and that looks likely. The woods turn from gray to white in less than twenty minutes.

 The ground’s covered by the time Peeta returns, and he’s laden down with bags of food. She helps him unpack them, arranging it all on the countertops to see what treasures he brought home. He regales her with humorous tales of frantic shoppers as they fought over the last box of pancake mix when there were plenty of bags of flour nearby. Peeta pities those who can’t make their own. He always claims they’re better from scratch.

 His purchases are mostly practical—bread, milk, eggs, soup—except for things he bought because he knows she likes them. Her family never ate pre-packaged food when she was growing up. They couldn’t afford it, so Peeta indulges her fascination with it when he can. Her favorite is the box of frozen donuts, which she tucks into a corner of the freezer next to the cheese buns he bought at her request.

 “It’s coming down hard,” he muses as he looks outside. “I’d say schools will be closed tomorrow since there’s no way to clear the streets until this stops. We won’t have to go into work. You want to stay up late and watch a movie or two? I can make all the bad things, and we can work our way through them.”

 “Yes on the movie. No on the snacks,” she answers. “If we’re going to be snowed in for a few days, I don’t want to blow through our junk food in the first few days. Besides, there’s roast and potatoes in the crock pot, and it smells delicious.”

 “Sometimes I forget how practical you are.” His grin is infectious, and she shrugs her sweater around her tighter and shivers as the wind howls.

 “You love it and you know it.”

 “I love you,” he answers simply and pulls her in for a hug. “Now, go sit. I’ll get your dinner.”

 By the time he sets a bowl and mug of hot tea in front of her, she’s pulled up their favorite winter movie and is cuddled underneath a pile of blankets. They eat quickly, enjoying the flavor, and snuggle together until the movie’s over. They switch over to an epic, then. They’ve both seen it dozens of times, so they don’t pay too close of attention. Instead, they let their eyes droop and fall asleep a little before midnight on the couch together.

 Peeta stirs awake before her the next morning, a throwback to helping his dad at their family bakery and café when he was a teenager, but Katniss isn’t far behind. She’s an early riser, too, although that habit was formed from necessity more than anything else. They blink awake as the list of school closings flashes across the TV screen. Neither are surprised to find their district closed. He stretches and helps her off the couch. Crossing to the window, they gape at the piles of snow that greet them, shimmering and sparkling in the early morning sunlight.

 “That’s at least a foot,” he gasps. “A foot! With more on the way this afternoon.”

 “Good thing you went to the grocery store last night.”

 “Yeah. No way to get there today.”

 “And besides, we have all the ingredients for pancakes now.”

 Peeta grins at her, and she can’t help the little ping that shoots through her when he runs his fingers through the riot of tangled blonde curls that frame his face.

 “Is that a hint?”

 She smiles at him. “I’ll even help.”

 “C’mon, then. I’m starving.”

 They make them together, and Katniss thinks they’re the best she’s ever had.

[sxvxrxssnape]

Coffee & Tea

Snapetober 2020: Day 11 - Scars

There’s more than one type of wound that needs to heal for them to move forward, but Minerva is determined to help however she can. They just have to live with the scars.

The wound pains her even though it is not hers.

Minerva watches as Severus unwraps the bandages around his neck for the final time. She has been watching Poppy unwrap blood-soiled bandages and replace them with fresh ones time and time again, not just on Severus, but on several others, as the days have ticked past. 

This time, as the wrappings come undone, there is the barest hint of rust tainting them. The wounds have finally closed. There is a small table beside him, laden with an assortment of potions and a scrap of flannel. She watches as he opens the first bottle, pours the anti inflammatory onto the flannel and attempts to pat the wound. 

“Let me help.” she breaks the silence, surprising him out of his reverie. She wonders if he was even aware of her presence. He eyes her hesitantly and she can feel the despair rolling off of him in waves, can see the brokenness in his dark brown eyes. 

He nods. 

She closes the distance between the two of them and thinks about how this is the first time in over a year that she’s stood so close to him. She takes the flannel and starts to dab at the puncture marks on his neck, wincing in sympathy when he flinches. 

“What’s next?” she asks, eyeing the line-up of colorful bottles. 

He hands her a bottle she does not recognize, but she trusts him. The thought sends her reeling as she pours a tincture that smells of eucalyptus and witch hazel onto a clean corner of the flannel and repeats the process of gently patting the wound. She trusts him. 

And, oh Merlin, does that make her ache. 

She studies Severus carefully as she puts her hand out and waits for the next potion. He looks as if he’s shrunken into himself, rumpled and sickly and pale in his grey hospital robe. Exhaustion sits so heavily on his face, she wonders if there is enough rest in the world to help him. His hands are trembling, one more than the other, and she knows it’s permanent. An unfortunate aftereffect of a prolonged Cruciatus; she doesn’t know how long ago that happened, doesn’t know how to ask. He hands her a small pot of healing cream. 

With gentle fingers, she rubs the thick paste into his skin until it disappears. He cannot stop himself from hissing in pain and she makes soft noises on a whim. She wants to say something, has wanted to say something since they first found him in the Shrieking Shack barely clinging to life. Ever since her stomach twisted and her heart skipped when Harry was facing Voldemort for the final time.

“Severus Snape was never yours.” Harry had yelled. “He was always Dumbledore’s.” She’s hesitant to admit her head has been a little fuzzy ever since. She wants to say something, but she just doesn’t have the words. 

She hated him. 

He had betrayed them all, had killed Dumbledore and stood by Voldemort’s side as they seized the castle. She hates herself a little, for never realizing the truth. How long had she and the man in front of her been friends? How many times had she depended on him to help her out, back her up, or just plain be there for her?

“I can hear you thinking.” Severus croaks out and he sounds absolutely wrecked. 

“I’m sorry.” Minerva sighs and accepts the strip of bandage dipped in Essence of Dittany. She drapes it over the snakebite and keeps it in place with a temporary sticking charm. He moves his hair back, covering the small square, and looks relieved to be able to do so. “Severus, I -”

“Please, don’t.” he whispers, and even as soft spoken as those two words are, his voice is still dry and gravelly, making him cough. There are two untouched potions left and he picks up the pain reliever, swallowing it back once he’s able to breathe.

The lines of pain fall from his face, but he still looks weak. It will be another few days of bedrest before he can stand on his own again. The venom that coursed through him nearly finished him off, but his body will heal, and so will the wounds on his neck.

Minerva wonders if their relationship is far too broken to fix, or if time will heal that too. She holds nothing against him, knows the truth now and understands. Still, she cannot look at him in the same way anymore, fears they will never be the same. 

He reaches for the final potion and Minerva recognizes the orange of the Invigoration Draught. She takes it from him and puts it out of reach. “You should rest, instead. There will be plenty of time to take this later.”

He nods and lays back down, sleep already settling in. 

–

The scars pain her, even though they are not hers. 

Minerva watches as Severus wraps a light grey scarf around his neck and tucks the ends into his buttoned up winter coat. The scars are faint, a bubble of light pink that barely sticks out against the paleness of his throat, but she knows they feel larger than life to him. 

He still dabs them with Dittany every night, but it hasn’t made a difference in months now. Still, she knows it brings him comfort so she says nothing about it. 

They walk the path to Hogsmeade together, their boots crunching over day-old snow and their breaths creating faint wisps of silver in the cold air when they exhale. December has arrived and with it, Christmas is creeping. There are boughs of holly decorating the lamp poles that light up the still-dreaming streets of the small town. 

They look at each other and share a look, thinking of how quickly the wizarding town has bounced back from the events in May. It makes something warm burst inside of her. They enter the Three Broomsticks and choose a corner table. 

It is still early, especially for a Saturday. They left the students in the care of Flitwick and Pomona, decided they could use a break for the morning. Running a school is a big responsibility, so they do it together now; headmaster and headmistress. 

“We should allow the students a Hogsmeade weekend before they go to break.” Minerva brings up, as she flips through the menu Madame Rosmerta has brought. It feels pointless, considering she always orders the same thing. 

“Stock them up on sweets and then send them home to their parents?” Severus asks, a faint smile on his lips. “Better them than us.”

Madame Rosmerta returns with mugs full of hot coffee and tea, confirms they want their usual and leaves them alone again. Minerva sips her tea and pretends not to notice when Severus sloshes a bit of coffee as he picks up his cup. His hands still tremble, despite the many nerve regeneration potions he’s taken. 

They sit in silence and it still feels a little off. They’ve finally talked about what happened, about the nightmare of the year they both experienced. They finally grieved the loss of Albus together, finally shared what they had been thinking whenever they passed each other in the halls that wretched school year.

They had gotten very drunk off of Lucius’ expensive whiskey (and that was a strange relation that had been formed after Voldemort’s end. She thinks he’s only trying to save what little reputation they have left, by throwing money and expensive gifts at every avenue they can think of. She’s tired of carrying hatred in her heart and so she accepts his gifts, accepts his request to reinstate him onto the Board of Governors, and lets Lucius Malfoy be) and she saw Severus break down in tears for the first time in years.  That alone was her proof that he trusted her still.

She just needed to trust him. 

Their friendship has been shaky, as if the foundation has been rebuilt upon uneven ground. Some days she looks at him and all she can feel is hurt, but she reminds herself that isn’t him. He didn’t come back from the brink of death feeling like before; there are scars he’s desperate to hide, but he’s done what he can and now he has to learn to carry on. 

Their friendship feels the same way.

They have to learn to carry on, for both of their sakes. Madame Rosmerta returns once more and she sets plates in front of each of them before taking her leave again. Severus pulls out a small vial of potion and she frowns as he drinks the pain reliever. 

Healing will take time, in every sense of the word. She wonders if it’s the nerve damage in his neck that’s bothering him today, or if it’s his left arm. She knows he won’t answer in such a public space, despite the near-emptiness of the room, so she doesn’t ask. 

She cuts into her poached egg, watches the yolk break and spill over crisp bacon and toasted bread. Their silence feels off, but it’s also as comfortable as it’s ever been. She watches him cut into his own breakfast, smiles faintly at his choice of pancake toppings, and wonders if the scars in their friendship are there to stay, or if they can heal a little more. 

Minerva has missed his presence in her life, is glad to have him back, sarcastic comments and sharp tongue and all. Perhaps things will never be as they were. Still, as the honey drips from his lips and he struggles to close his mouth around the comically large bite he’s just taken, something in her lifts.

She cannot help but laugh at him and he scowls at the sound, but his eyes are soft despite his furrowed brow and she knows they will be okay.

——–

A/N: After grief, I needed something…soft.

I needed to FIX things.

[letsbenditlikebennett]

Picnic Crashing || Ariana & Orion

TIMING: During the Sweet Dreams POTW PARTIES: @3starsquinn & @letsbenditlikebennett SUMMARY: A mopey Ariana and Orion have a picnic. It’s crashed, quite literally. 

There was a good chance that Ariana had packed entirely too much food in her picnic basket for just her and Rio to eat, but she was happy with the assortment. Plus, with all the baking Athena did and pies Kaden was sending on pretty much a weekly basis, she had a lot of treats to share. While she was still largely struggling with what her role was supposed to be and if her efforts to help were at all worth anything, she was looking forward to some quality time with Rio. There was no hiding that the Quinn twins were among her favorite people in town. More like family at this point, really, even if they were still figuring out their relationship to each other. She had a nice blanket laid out in the common and her picnic basket holding it down. When Rio approached, she put on the warmest grin she could manage and said, “Hey, I hope you’re hungry because I brought a ton of food.” She patted the spot on the blanket beside her and asked, “How’s everything been? I feel like it’s been forever.” 

 Backpack stuffed completely full, Orion made his way across the grass, making a beeline towards the figure off in the distance he assumed was Ariana. He hadn’t really done picnics before. He didn’t know what to bring. Plus, it wasn’t like he kept the kitchen full stocked with food. The kitchen in Skylar and Nic’s house was almost comically large compared to the amount of food that Rio kept stored in it’s cabinets. He was in way over his head in that giant house, but ironically it was cheaper living there then it would be to get a smaller place. Perks of whatever rich person had apparently bought it for them. Instead, he had stuffed his bag with some lunchmeat, bread and the most recent box of goodies he had gotten from Nate’s shop. Don’t forget to smile. He reminded himself as Ariana noticed him. He flicked his wrist into a wave and finished his trek to the blanket, “You know I’m always hungry.” He gave a thumbs up and slipped the backpack off. Lowering himself onto the blanket, Rio pulled his food from the bag and added it onto the blanket. “Oh you know, I live in a giant house with an indoor pool by myself now. That’s been pretty weird. But I guess I’m okay. How about you? And Athena?”

 There was a certain sense of ease that came with spending time with Rio. He was a good friend and she had zero doubts about that. It wasn’t just that though. Ariana found it easy to just be around him. No expectations, no putting on a brave face. She could wear her feelings plainly and sit in comfortable silence with her friend. Judgment would never come, at least not from Rio who had done plenty to show he’d always be a supportive figure in her life. Today, his smile seemed to mirror her own in the sense it was more of a ghost of a smile, there simply to indicate they were in fact glad to see each other even if everything else around them seemed to be going to hell. Even so, it was easy enough to laugh along with his statement. “You and me both,” she joked before her features softened a bit. She wasn’t quite sure what happened, but living alone didn’t sound great. “When you put it like that, it sounds like I need to come over for a pool day. But that does sound like it’d be weird. Did your roommate move out? Me? I’ve been okay. A little bit of internal wrestling since my attempts to help people seem to make things worse, but like, trying to remember this town is just kind of a shit show. And Athena seems to be doing better. I know losing Amanda was hard, but she’s been hearing back from med schools. Kinda… well, I guess a little nervous to see which one she chooses. I don’t want to like ask her to stay, but also don’t really want her to go so there’s that.” She realized she was rambling a little bit and took in a deep breath as she took out some of dumplings and soup she’d made as well as a thermos full of warm green tea.

 Orion was willing to admit that things had been a bit awkward since Athena and Ariana had started dating. No matter how much he tried, he couldn’t erase the past memories of his sister from his mind. The things she used to say. The memory of their eighteenth birthday. Sometimes it was all too easy for Rio to replace the image of that werewolf in his mind with Ariana’s. But he did believe that Athena genuinely cared for Ariana. And despite weirdness, Rio couldn’t avoid Ariana. She was one of his closest friends, someone who he knew he could count on. And when the two hung out, things were just simple. He really enjoyed simple. “Please do. It’ll get better use if you do. I don’t really swim. But yeah she uh- left town recently.” No reason to get into the specifics of Skylar’s departure. He sighed listening to her, not pleased to hear that she hadn’t been having any easier of a time here in town. It never seemed like things would settle down. “I’m sorry. That sucks. Personally, I think you helping me has turned out super well, for the record. But I’m sorry to hear about whatever you are referring to.” Rio thought about medical school a lot too. He wasn’t convinced that Athena would ever leave White Crest. Her entire life was here, he wasn’t sure she would know what to do anywhere else. But a lot had changed since their parents had died. It was hard to tell exactly what was going through Athena’s mind anymore. “It’s hard to tell. Between you and me? I don’t think she’ll ever move out of this town. But I don’t exactly know her as well as I used to.” He lost focus of the conversation as she unpacked more food and he caught onto the smell, “Holy crap that smells so good. I’m so excited to eat.” 

 There was a big part of Ariana that still wanted to bridge the gap between Athena and Rio so they could all enjoy days out together like this, but the steps they were already taken, those were big. And they were enough. Maybe one day things would be easier, for now, she was just going to bask in the simplicity their time together brought. She took a sip of her green tea and slowly nodded as Rio spoke. Pool sounded fun, roommate moving out, not so much. Two times in a row at that had to be pretty rough. “I’m sorry, that she left. That’s gotta suck. I’ll come over soon then… and not just for the indoor pool.” She gave a small nudge with the last part of her sentence before she began nibbling on some of the food. It was a nice little reminder from Rio that not all her efforts to help were for not. Even if they were more in the way of friendship and not any of the crazy crap White Crest threw at them. “Yeah, maybe you’re right,” she agreed not wanting to contemplate it too much on a day where they were supposed to be enjoying themselves, “This town just… it’s hard. But you know that.” Being reassured that Athena wasn’t likely to leave helped a little though. The thought of saying goodbye had made her a bit nervous throughout her girlfriend’s interview process. She wanted the best for Athena, but she also wanted to be by her side. It’d be nice if those two things lined up. “I kind of hope that’s the case. I want her to live her dreams, I’d just… I’d miss her a lot.” She shrugged lightly not wanting to get too caught up in her worries when she heard a loud thud. Her head whipped up as she saw a bicycle colliding with a tree. “Holy shit,” she muttered, “That’s not what you…” She trailed off as she realized the young man wasn’t getting up. She jumped up from the ground instinctively and ran over to him. There wasn’t blood and he had a helmet on, but he was just… out? “Uh, Rio. I don’t think he’s,” she focused on his heartbeat, it was relaxed, “He’s alive but, I don’t know what’s wrong. We should call an ambulance right?” 

 “Nah. It’s okay.” Orion lied. He believed what he said. He was happy Skye left. This town had hurt her, in ways that are hard to recover from. He knew that she could do it. He also knew that to do so was probably a lot easier away from town. He at least loved the idea of Ariana hanging out at the house. The place was far too big for just him. But for as much as it made sense for Skye to leave, Rio couldn’t comprehend the idea of Athena ever leaving town. He expected her to live and die in this town. Just as his parents had. Then again, she never expected Athena to gut their mom either. So his sister had surprised him in more than one way. Still, it felt weird that so much had changed. Rio always thought he was the one desperate to get away. “You think you’ll ever leave?” It was a genuine question. Ariana hadn’t spent her entire life here. She had managed to find some charm in this terrifying town. He wondered how long it would last. Any chance at eating or discussing was distracted by the man crashing into the tree. He jumped up and followed behind her, rushing to his side to check on him. “If he’s breathing then what happened?” Rio questioned, still thankful that he was alive. “Right. Yeah. 911. Calling now. See if you can wake him up?” Rio suggested as he dialed and pulled the phone up to his ear.

 “I’m not too sure. I’d like to think she has reasons to want to stay here, but I don’t want to hold her back either,” Ariana answered honestly. Normally, she would flat out ask Athena, but with things at least being mostly calm, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer. Thankfully, there wasn’t too much time to think on that with the bicycle collision. Both Ari and Rio were quick on their feet though hearing the heartbeat only did so much to calm her as Rio called 911. She nudged the young man and loudly said, “Hey, hey, bro-- wake up!” But he was out like a light. There wasn’t even the slightest flinch as she shook at his shoulders. No indication that he could even hear what they were saying or feel her touch. “Something… something doesn’t feel right here, Rio.” Outside of some scrapes from falling off the bike, he seemed to just be asleep. Was her on drugs or something? She began rummaging through his jacket pockets but only found a wallet. A wallet with nothing out of the ordinary about it. “His name is Leon Torres. Uhm…. born 1998? That’d make him 23? 22?” 

 Orion rambled quickly, a bad habit in general made even worse by the stress of talking to a 911 operator. “We uh- are at the park. And he ran into a tree and he’s not waking up and-” Luckily, the operator was much more level headed than he was and cut in to ask questions from time to time. “It doesn’t look like he’s too badly injured. I don’t see any excessive bleeding. He’s not waking up but he’s alive.” He hadn’t actually checked the man’s pulse officially, but he could hear the heartbeat. If he had to guess, that was one of the first things Ariana had checked for as well. “Okay. Okay. Thanks.” Rio hung up the phone and hugged it against his chest as he crossed his arms, “An ambulance is on their way. She uh- sounded pretty confused.” That made three of them. Clearly, Ariana was just as lost as Rio and the 911 operator had been. It didn’t exactly seem feasible that somebody fell asleep while reading a bike and now wouldn’t wake up. “Yeah uh- it’s pretty weird.” Rio hovered awkwardly above Ariana. He didn’t know how to help or if he was just getting in her way. “Yeah. Not exactly prime age for randomly going into a coma while on a bike ride.” He mused, glancing around the park looking to see if he saw anybody or anything around. This felt supernatural. “Could it be a spell? Some kind of drug or poison?”

 Ariana kept her focus on Leon’s heartbeat. It was slow and steady, but not so slow that she’d think he was dying. The rhythm was similar to that of a peaceful sleep. Normally, it was something she found calming, but given the more than perplexing circumstances, she found herself trying not to panic. Nothing about this seemed natural and that meant it was unlikely a human doctor could do much of anything for him. She could vaguely pick up on Rio’s rambling, something she normally found endearing now only furthering the sinking feeling in her stomach. “Good, they can at least monitor him. I don’t,” she trailed off and looked him over yet again. Outside of some bruises forming and minor scrapes from the crash, there was nothing indicative of injury on his body. No signs that pointed to anything in particular. No scent on him that could give them some sort of clue on what the hell was happening here. Rio was onto something with the idea of a spell or drug though. That seemed much more feasible than a 20-something year old just falling into a deep sleep while riding their bicycle. “It has to be. Why else would he just- We could look through your books or something? I don’t know a lot about magic or drug… or human health conditions.” She hated problems like this. If she had her way, all of her problems would be one she could throw fists or claws at and call it day. Unfortunately, life rarely worked like that and she felt frustration building up within her. She wanted to punch… something. Anything, really, but she breathed instead. First in shallow breaths until they evened out into something deeper and she could fight the urge to beat up a tree. “We’ll see what we can look into after the ambulance gets here. It has to be something.” 

 Orion hoped that the ambulance hurried. Despite the man seemingly being alive, this still wasn’t normal. Rio would feel a lot better once the man was in medical hands. Though if this was supernatural then maybe they wouldn’t be able to help him either. Still, it had to be better than just standing over the man’s unconscious body with no idea what to do. Ariana was right, they would be more useful doing some research on this while he stayed under a hospital’s care. “Yeah. Good idea. Humans have some uh- weird medical things. But this seems especially weird.” Rio spoke as if he wasn’t a human himself. Most times, he didn’t really feel like he was. Rio glanced around the park. If this was some kind of spell, wouldn’t the caster have to be somewhere around here? Maybe proximity didn’t matter. His ears perked at the very faint sounds of sirens. “I think they’re on their way. Hopefully it shouldn't be too much longer.” And after they were gone, the two would probably have to pack everything up and head for the Scribe building. “So much for the picnic I guess, huh?”

 In any other situation, Ariana might have laughed at Rio referring to humans as if he wasn’t one himself. She was pretty sure hunters still considered themselves human in the same way spellcasters did. Not that it was something she’d ever thought to ask before now. “Kind of hope it’s one of the weird medical things as opposed to… well, you know. White Crest brand of weird things,” she said softly, still keeping a close ear out for his heartbeat that was still steadily trucking on. They were still going to do their research anyway, but medical seemed so much easier to fix though any sort of medical condition that essentially put an otherwise healthy appearing 22 year old into a dead sleep was alarming. As she started hearing the sirens in the distance, she felt a little more at ease. Monitoring a human to make sure they were alive was high key stressful and she’d much rather be reading a bunch of Rio’s old books… which was saying something considering she hated reading. “Yeah, picnic vibes are pretty dead now. We can snack and research? Keep it real, sleuthy,” she responded with an awkward laugh. The whole fun friend day thing was pretty much ruined. Not that she was sure it was ever really ago in the first place considering they both seemed to be bummed out about other things. As the ambulance approached, she waved to get their attention and did her best to explain what happened. They all seemed just as confused as she and Rio had been. That didn’t leave her with much hope it was in fact medical. “Yeah, he seemed to be just riding his bike normally then sort of just crashed into the tree and isn’t waking up. His pulse seems steady.” 

 It was almost pathetic that Orion and Ariana immediately went to something supernatural for the cause of the collapse. He realized with a wicked sense of irony that a regular medical mishap might actually be more surprising than something supernatural. If it didn’t feel so disrespectful standing over top of the man, Rio might have had to sarcastically laugh. That, or hysterically cry. For some reason, the line between the two always seemed alarmingly thin. “Snack and research sounds great.” Rio agreed, thankful that the food wasn’t going to completely go to waste. The ambulance arrived, either incredibly quickly or time flew by when they were stressed. Ariana took charge immediately, describing the situation Rio slipped away from the group to head back towards the picnic set up they had abandoned. He worked on packing up the area, glancing over from time to time to check on Ariana. The looks on the EMT’s faces were particularly comforting. He finished packing things up and made his way back over to Ariana as they began to load him into the ambulance. “I hope he’s okay” He wished he could offer more wisdom than that, but all he had was well wishes and motivation to try to find the answer to whatever caused this. “I got everything ready to go.”

After a quick rundown of what happened, the ambulance and Leon were off to the hospital. Ariana watched warily for a moment before she walked back over to Rio. The same reason that made this little Maine town perfect for someone like her made it dangerous for so many others, dangerous for herself even. It was hard not to feel a certain sense of disenchantment for a place she was once determined to make home, but all the same, she couldn’t imagine ever leaving. There were far too many people she cared for so that meant she had to do her part in making it better. She grabbed some of their stuff that Rio had packed up and said, “Thanks, I’ll drive. Hopefully we can find something.” It was a big thing to hope, but she wanted to help. Really help. Somehow, it didn’t help that the possibilities were truly endless, but at least they could try. And if anything, at least they wouldn’t be alone.

[irreplaceable-ecstasyy]

iv. Public Kisses

Marya Dmitrievna was rather tall for a lady her age. A 20 year old standing tall and proud at 5 feet and 9. Many were intimidated by the cold gaze in her ice grey eyes and the way her red lips tipped into an unfriendly snarl. She was given the name 'the Terrible Dragon of Moscow'. Those who were lucky enough often earned themselves a conversation or a dance with the lady but those who were luckier were spared by her stern look. No one knew why the lady was so fearsome but they knew not to mess with her.

Many agreed that she was a beauty and her eyes were ones that people could easily get lost in. However, with how she scoweld upon people who approached her, such a sight was obscured and it chased away those who overstayed their welcome around her. The soiree she attended was no excuse. It was her birthday, to be precise, and her parents had thought it was a wonderful idea to invite their friends and every large name there was in Moscow. They were fairly acquainted with several notable names such as Pavlovna and Bezukhova but all she had wanted was a peaceful day for herself. Now, she had to prepare herself to face a crowd of strangers and acquaintances alike, as well as people her age she had never met before. Perhaps she had met them before when they were much younger but they had never interested her.

Being at a suitable age for marriage, there was no doubt her parent would try to set her up with someone. And God above, that would certainly be the worst birthday gift they could ever provide.

She walked among the crowds with her head held high. She had done her best to avoid finding herself in the middle of the ballroom in a dance too intimate to her liking. It was gorgeous to watch from where she stood. The twirl of skirts, men lifting women in the air as well as boys did to girls, the graceful dips and steps they took. It was truly a masterpiece to watch and something about it brought a sense of peace to her. Finding the best spot to spectate at, she settled in and clasped her hands behind her, a small smile upon her face. The smile, however, vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, quietly scoffing at how it slipped out of the intricate hairdo that had taken her a good hour to do. One of the struggles of being a woman. She had to be presentable as a single flaw was able to tarnish one's reputation to be messy and lazy. It was the last thing she wanted to be referred to. As she hastily tried to slip the hair back into place, she was startled by a giggle that came from beside her. It was not the reaction she had expected for the way she had so outwardly expressed her scorn for the fallen strands of hair but it was not unpleasant.

"Are you alright?" a voice asked. A lady's.

"I'm fine, thank you. I'm afraid my hair isn't cooperating with me today," Marya murmured as she patted her hair down.

Another giggle. "Mine never cooperates but I'll let you in on a secret. Use pins."

"I haven't got any with me now..." Marya sighed in defeat but the other let out a rather jolly hum.

"I've got plenty~"

Marya finally turned to look at the stranger but the first thing she was met with was her hand holding out a pin to her. Taking it, she gave the other a quiet 'thank you' and pinned up the stray strands. It worked a charm and Marya smiled broadly. Turning to meet the stranger face to face, she swore her heart nearly skipped a beat. This lady was a sight for sore eyes. The way her eyes sparkled underneath the lights, her lopsided smile that held so much innocence, head of wild curls that had been tamed down into a bun and pink cheeks that complemented her olive skin. Her dress was the second thing Marya noticed but it was truly nothing compared to her features.

After much studying, she recognized her. Hélène Kuragina. The middle child and only daughter of the Kuragin family. She had known her for a very long time. They were only children when they first met and back then, their chatter had only consisted of boring lessons and talks about the future such as getting married to the man of their dreams. Like every little girl, they played with dolls and their mother's make-up whenever they met. They were not exactly close friends but they were friends who could tolerate one another. (Or that was what they thought). Marya and Hélène had certainly grown out of their time of make believe, tea parties and childish princess dresses.

When they became teens, it was then they began to see each other less for they had their own duties to run in their families. As only daughters in their families, there was much upon their shoulders as adults. And Marya already had a taste of it even before the age of 20.

Swallowing nervously, she bowed her head. "Thank you, again, for your hairpin."

"It's no trouble, ma chere~ You can keep it," Hélène told her with a smile.

"Thank you..." Marya fidgeted with her hands, out of an eyeshot from Hélène's watchful eyes. Oh, this was just splendid. "It's a pleasure to meet you again, Elena."

"Likewise, Marya. I didn't think you'd remember me~" Hélène exclaimed.

"You're a hard face to forget," Marya remarked and she was quite sure she saw a blush on Hélène's face.

"Oh, you flatterer. It's not very healthy for my ego," Hélène laughed as she waved a dismissive hand at her. "So... Why aren't you dancing?" Hélène inquired as she looked towards the dancers as they swapped partners.

"It's not a favorite of mine," Marya answered quite plainly.

"But you don't dislike it?" Hélène tried again.

Marya glanced at her. "I don't."

Grinning from ear to ear, Hélène held a hand out to Marya and curtseyed. "Well then, may I have this dance, Marya?"

"Oh... I can't possibly say no to you, can I?"

"You know me so well!"

Marya took Hélène's extended hand and allowed the girl to lead her out of the crowd and into the circle of dancers. They were not the only pair of dancers of a similar gender. Around them, Marya could see the flair of skirts brushing against one another's as they spun, a haze of silks and cloth. Men in tuxes would take turns to lift each other and the one in the air would playfully kick their legs. Being in this circle and slowly melting into the steps of the dance, she never knew it was an experience more wonderful than watching from the sides.

Hélène led the dance, Marya could feel the way she directed them along with the tide of dancers. Her feet followed the flow and it all felt so natural to her as if she had done it a hundred times over. The feeling of Hélène's hand on her waist, their hands intertwined so very delicately, how Hélène gazed into her eyes, Marya did not want this to end. Perhaps dancing was not too bad after all. It was a matter of finding the right partner and she sure did.

The crowd around her condensed into a haze of colors and the only person she could see was Hélène. As for Hélène, it was the same view. All she could see was Marya and she certainly did not miss the way her eyes flickered to her lips. It was not as if Marya had done much to conceal the way her eyes slowly wandered about to study her face, and Hélène was just as fascinated by how Marya had transformed into such an elegant woman. Last she saw her, Marya only wore ribbons, lacey dresses and white stockings that nearly every child in Moscow had. This was a sight to behold.

The next thing they knew, their lips met in a brief, fleeting kiss. They did not care if there was anyone around them who saw. They exchanged giggles when they pulled away and Marya leaned in to press her forehead against Hélène's gently. Hélène's smile was in her eyes. The way they quirked up and still glimmered. It made Marya's heart pound.

When the music came to an end, so did their dancing. Hélène brought her hands up to Marya's cheeks and she pressed a loving kiss to her lips. This kiss lasted longer than the first did, but it was not as long as Marya had wished it to be. Pulling away for breath, Hélène tiptoed to kiss Marya's nose, hands still caressing her cheeks.

"Happy birthday, Masha... It was really nice seeing you again."

[lu-undy]

Chapter 101 - SBT

Here it is!

"Mon Dieu…"

"Yeah…"

Both were laying in bed like starfish on a beach, panting and catching their breaths. 

"You… Surpassed yourself… mon amour…"

"Did you-?"

"Oui…" Lucien put a hand on his chest to catch his breath. 

"You did…?"

"Oui…!" Lucien insisted. 

"You sure?" 

"Mundy…!"

"But I didn't touch you, I just-?" Mundy put his forearm on his sweaty brow. 

"I know…" Lucien closed his eyes. "I… know… I just… you were hitting the right spot, if you need… details…"

"I was…? I had no idea… God…" 

"Were my cries… moans… and whimpers… not enough?"

"You're usually… quite vocal…" Mundy answered.

"It is the first time… that this happens…" 

Mundy had grabbed his bottle of water from the night table and offered it to Lucien. They both pushed themselves to sit and took turns drinking. 

"Merci, mon amour."

[Thank you, my love.]

"Yeah, you’re welcome, Lu'."

They sank down in the sheets and naturally, Lucien laid his head on Mundy's shoulder. The Aussie wrapped an arm around him. 

"But really, you… did the thing without you or me touchin' you?" 

"Technically, you were touching me, just not with your hands and not where you are thinking." They exchanged a smile. 

"Guess so, yeah…" Mundy's hand stroked his lover. "Uh, did you feel it as strongly as when I do it… properly?"

"Even more so. The fact that you or I were not touching me made it stronger, more intense."

"Oh, ok."

"Don't worry, I shall reciprocate next time." 

They exchanged a smile.

"Can't wait. Speakin' of waiting, I hope I didn't make you wait too long at the restaurant."

"Long enough to be approached by another man."

"Seriously?!" 

"Is this jealousy I sense?" Lucien smiled. 

"What the hell does he think he's doin'? Did he annoy you? Why didn't you tell me while we were there, I'd have had a word or two with him…" Mundy tightened the hug, protectively.

"It is fine, I let him have his way and when he was deep enough in his own grave, I ended him."

"What? What's that mean?" 

"I flirted back with him until…"

"Until?"

"Until I resumed my normal voice. You should have seen his face, he was livid." 

"Pfff…" 

They both shared a laugh. 

"Still, next time, you tell me, alright?" 

"And what would you have done?" 

"Don't know… I'd have told him the truth, that you're mine, and no one comes near you." 

"Possessive?"

"Protective, and maybe a bit possessive…"

"Territorial, I like that in you, mon loup."

Lucien snuggled against his lover who combed his long hair with his fingers.

"May I ask, do you prefer me shaved?" 

"I don't mind. I like both. And it's not like you're super hairy otherwise."

"Yet I felt it, you made love to me differently tonight." 

"Hm… Yeah, felt different… Still does, I mean, look at you! Lost a few years without the beard and all, and those stockings… Gosh…!"

"Are you calling me old?" Lucien teased. 

"Nah… Vintage." Mundy tried to save himself.

"Vintage means old for clothes, Mundy…" 

"Yeah well… I'm not makin' it better, aren't I?" 

"Non." Lucien chimed with a smile. 

"And now you're gonna bully me ‘cause I said you're old, right?"

"Exactement."

[Exactly.]

"Well, fuck me then…" 

"I'd rather you did it to me, but not just now." 

"I didn't mean it literally!"

"Didn't you?" Lucien teased. 

"Pfff…" He laughed and kissed his lover's brow while holding him tight. "Love you, doll." 

"I like this new nickname." 

"What?" 

"Doll." Lucien answered, looking up at his lover. 

"It's usually a sheila's pet name."

"I don't mind, I like the sound and the connotations of it." 

"Really? Like bein' a doll, eh?" Mundy cupped Lucien's cheek.

"I like being yours, without a doubt." 

"Y'know what?"

"Pray tell." 

"The more I know you, the more I'm surprised how much you like bein' uh… like… not dominant."

"Oh?" 

"When I met you, you were so arrogant, so self-confident, so… argh! I'd never have imagined you could be that soft and all."

"Is that an issue?" 

"No, not at all, on the contrary. I love when you're bein' like that. Shows you trust me an awful lot." 

"I do." Lucien confirmed and as his head rose and fell to the rhythm of Mundy's breath, his eyelids felt heavier and heavier. 

"Lu'...?" 

"Mh?" 

"Thanks for tonight, everythin' was perfect, just like you." Lucien smiled with his eyes closed. Mundy looked down at the both of them. "You not gonna remove your stockings?"

"I am way too tired."

"And sore, eh?" 

"Non, actually…"

"Oh? Thought it'd be hurtin'."

"You went slowly enough and you had prepared me plenty, mon amour." 

"Well, gotta do that again then, and maybe we can go for round two next time…?" 

"Gladly." 

"You'd let me… do it twice?" 

"Mh-hm." 

"Should've met you when I was in my twenties…" Mundy said. 

"Mh?"

"Because I was unstoppable back then."

Lucien's eyes snapped open. 

"Are you saying that…?" He asked. 

"Yup. Literally had a bit of a reputation for it." 

"Quoi?" Lucien asked, surprised and Mundy chuckled with his low, gravelly laughter. 

"Used to be like that. It passed when I got older." 

"I should have met you when you were in your twenties then…"

"What?" Mundy asked and Lucien closed his eyes on his shoulder again. 

"I was the same…" 

"Seriously?"

"There are rumours, or rather legends about me."

"What do they say?" 

"That I have as many children as the number of women who laid eyes on me." 

"What?!" 

"Other less uhm… naturally gifted spies spread those words around. And instead of harming me, they made my fame and reputation." 

"Pfff…" Mundy chuckled. "I'm laughin' both for the story and for your voice."

"What about it?" 

"You sound sleepy as hell." 

"Do you have any idea how long it took me to shave everywhere and prepare myself? It was exhausting…" 

"Aw, poor you… C'mere, doll, gimme a good night kissy, eh?" 

Lucien raised his head with his eyes still closed and pushed his lips on Mundy's. 

"There, g'night, gorgeous." 

"Bonne nuit, mon loup." 

Mundy adjusted the cover on them both and closed his eyes. 

-- A few days later --

"That's very sweet of you, Mum, thanks." 

"Bah, anythin' to help you, Micky!"

They were both in the living-room, sitting side by side on the sofa. Perle was lying on Caroline's lap and Soot, on Mundy's. 

"Will he be much longer?" She asked. 

"Uh…" Mundy looked at his watch. "A couple of hours more."

"Ah, alright." 

"And you, Mum, how's it goin' with Dad? Is he alright?" 

Caroline's smile faded slowly as she put her cup of tea back on the coffee table. 

"He… We aren't in the best of terms at the moment." 

"What's happenin'?"

She sighed. 

"It's your father… When you told him about Lucien and you, he was quite upset. He stayed angry for a few days. Then he went to see Maurice. When he came back, he was just… empty."

"Empty?"

"Yeah, always looking at nothing, doesn't talk much. Sometimes I catch him just sitting on the couch and just… doing nothing. He's not watching the television or listening to the radio. He's just sitting there by himself, staring at nothing, thinking about God knows what…"

"Did you try and talk to him?" Mundy asked. 

"Yeah, asked him if he was alright. He always says he's fine and carries on."

"When did he go and see Maurice?"

"More than a week ago now."

"Crikey... And does he say anything when you come and visit here?" 

"Nope. Nothin'. Not even a 'hey' or a 'hello' when I come back. It's like he's living alone."

"Gosh… I-I'm sorry, Mum."

"What for?"

"It's all my fault and it falls on you again, although…" Caroline was about to answer when she got surprised by Mundy's sentence not ending there. "Even if I'm very sorry that it happens to you cause you got nothing to do with this, I… I'm not gonna change anythin'."

"What d'you mean?"

"I guess Dad expects me to go back and apologise and-"

"No, of course not."

"What?"

"You say that as if you did in the past, but it's not true, Micky. Remember when you used to go with the van, huntin' for days on end? Even if he yelled at you, you never stopped." 

"Doesn't mean I felt happy about how I got along with Dad because of it." 

"I know. But I don't think he is expectin' you to come back and apologise. Apologise for what? You're bein' a good boy…" She cupped his cheek and smiled, to which he grinned back. "And look at your smile… Y'know, I told your Dad about this."

"About what?"

"I never saw you smile half as much as I see you do now, since you're with Lucien." 

"Oh, really?" 

"Yeah! And the way you look at him all makes sense now."

"Mum…!" Mundy felt embarrassed, he lowered his head and hunched his back. 

"Nothin' to be ashamed of, I find you cute…!" Mundy blushed. "I know we never talked about boys or girls, but if you ever need to, I'm here for you." She patted his back. 

"Yeah… Thanks, Mum."

"How's it going for you and your Lu', eh? Guess it's going strong from that blush on your face…?"

"I-I don't know if I can say… It's uh… "

"Come on…!" She pushed.

"Hold on, before I answer you, is there anythin' I can do to help you, Mum?"

"With what?"

"With Dad."

Caroline sighed. 

"Nah, you did all you had to do. It's shakin' the old man but he gotta take it, eh."

"Thanks, Mum." He leaned to her and she wrapped an arm around him. 

"It's normal, Micky. It took me a bit of time to get used to myself, but hey, I did it. But tell me now, what's up with your Lu', eh?" 

"Mum, he's… fantastic. He's just… He's better than blokes in movies and all… He's the best thing to have ever happened in my life." Mundy sighed, lovestruck.

"Aww, Micky…" Caroline looked at her son, leaning his head on her shoulder, and smiled. "Never seen you like that, baby." 

"Cause I never felt like that…!"

"What did he do?" 

"He took me out, in the Maravilhoso, y'know, the Brazilian place in town."

"Oh, yeah, the one with the yellow flashy lights, yeah?"

"Yeah, that one." 

"So you got some dinner there?"

"We went separately and uh… Gosh, when I saw him, I… I fell in love with him all over again… I don't even know if that makes sense but I was feelin' like at the beginnin', y'know? Knees went to jelly, mouth was dry and weird. Couldn't speak properly."

"It does make a lot of sense, Micky. I felt that twice in my life."

"Oh, when?" 

"First, when your father accepted to take you in with me and raise you. The second time was when we changed our name, after the fire. I guess Maurice told you our new name, didn't he?"

"No, he didn't actually. Said I should ask you, back when I asked him."

Caroline smiled. 

"We sat with your father and took a long time to think. Maurice said to take something completely different from Turner, but also, something we'd recognise instantly. It'd be odd if someone called us by our names but none of us reacted, eh?"

"What did you go for in the end?" Mundy asked. 

Caroline grinned sweetly and raised her hazel eyes to her son.

"Mundee." 

Mundy's eyebrows jumped. 

"Really? Mundy?"

"Yeah, but spelt with double 'e' in the end, instead of 'y'." 

Mundy hugged his mother. 

"Guess you came up with the name, eh?" He asked.

"I think I did, I can't remember exactly now. But I remember that we both agreed without thinking. Anytime someone says 'Mr Mundee' or 'Mrs Mundee', I think of you and say a little prayer for you in my heart, baby." She hugged him back.

"Thank you so much…"

"Been missing you and your adorable smile, Micky. But I'm so happy now that you've found some peace." 

"Yeah, well… Doesn't seem fair. I get peace but Dad doesn't… By the way, why did he go and see Maurice? Was it just about Lu' and me?" 

"Nah, I'm pushin' him to change our name back to Turner. Feels weird not to have the same last name as you. Besides, that bad man's dead. Time for us to become Turners again. Also, we told the rest of the family that we uh… We actually were alive. We wanted to let them know and then maybe see them. It's a bit of a drive to go there, but it'd be nice to do it, at least for next Christmas, like we used to."

"How are they?" 

"They thought it was a bad prank and called the police on us…"

"You serious?" Mundy exclaimed.

"Yeah, and I understand. Imagine if I had called you to tell you the truth. You'd have picked up the phone and heard someone with your Dad's voice tellin' you we were alive. You'd have wondered who the hell is playin' a bad prank on you." She paused to catch her breath. "So I told your father to not call again, it was a bad idea to say such stuff not in person. But he insisted and called them again; got angry at them for not believin' him even. Next thing we knew, the police were knocking on the door. We explained everythin' and of course they didn't believe us. Took them days to come back to us and understand."

"Gosh… I'm sorry you had to go through all that mess. Your nerves are alright?" Mundy looked at his mother with worried eyes. 

"Yeah, I'm fine. I guess it's their nerves that took a slap, eh? Thank you, sweetie, for worryin', but I'm fine. Since you came back and that awful man's dead, I feel much stronger."

"Good to hear. Although, I'd prefer it if Dad was feelin' alright too…" Mundy lowered his head.

"Hey, baby…" She put a hand on his shoulder. "Not your fault, nothin' you can do about it. Let the old man think. He loves you, in his own way. He needs to find his new place."

"His new place?" 

"It's like the news you told him took him outside of himself. He needs time to find a new balance, a new place in his own head to accept all this. It's takin' him a long time, but your old man hates to change his habits; always been like that." 

"D'you think he will one day?" 

Their eyes met. 

"I hope so. It's sad enough to see him wanderin' in his own head, his eyes tired and empty."

"I'm sorry, Mum." 

"Don't be. He was there for me when I was low and now, I am here for him when he is. That's the vows we took, all those years ago." She smiled at her son. "It's easy to love when everything's fine. You truly love someone when nothing's fine but you stick to them nonetheless." 

He grinned back. 

"I think you're right, Mum." 

"Of course I am!" 

They chuckled and the cats slipped out of their laps. They trotted to the door and meowed repeatedly. 

"Ah, that'd be Lu'."

A split second after, the sound of a key on a lock and soon, the door opened. 

"Meow! Meow! Meow!" 

"Bonjour, mes bébés…! Attendez, je veux rentrer, attendez…!" 

[Hello, my babies…! Wait, I need to come inside, hold on…!]

Lucien shut the door after him and knelt down for the cats to drown him in headbutts, slow blinks and purrs. He let them have their way with him and dealt kisses and scratches, left and right.

"Mundy? Mon amour? I am home!" He announced from the entrance and Mundy blushed at the pet name being used in front of his mother.

"Yeah, come in, Lu', Mum's here…!" 

Lucien removed his shoes and jacket before joining mother and son. 

"Bonjour, Caroline, my apologies, I did not know you were here." He extended a hand to her but she pulled him into a hug, which the Frenchman reciprocated. 

"Hey, Lu'..." 

"Mundy…" 

They played it safe with a hug and some hand holding, out of respect for Mundy's mother. 

"You sit here, Lu'," Caroline said. "I'll go and get you a cup to get some tea with us."

"Please, Caroline, I can go and-"

"Mum, I can-"

"Sit! The both of you be good boys now and listen, yeah? I'll go and get you a cup. You're home from work, you're tired. You have a minute or so, I'll be back." Caroline's assertive, motherly voice shut both the men up and she did what she just said. 

"Mon amour, ça va? How have you been?" Lucien whispered. 

[My love, how are you?]

"Yeah, alright. Mum's visited me like that, we didn't really organise anythin'. That's why I didn't tell you anythin', sorry, luv'." 

"Please…" Lucien put a hand on his cheek. "There is no harm done. I like your mother, she is lovely." 

"Thanks, luv'." 

"How is she?"

"She told me that -"

"Here we are, boys…! A nice cup for you, Lu'. Ya don't mind if I call you, Lu', do you?"

"Not at all, I am honoured." He answered with a smile and gently bowed as he accepted the cup of tea that Caroline was handing him. 

"Aw, such a good boy…" 

"I was just asking Mundy how you were." Lucien said as he took a sip. 

"Not too bad, yeah." 

"Caroline, if I may…" 

"Yeah?"

Lucien put the cup down on the coffee table. 

"Your beautiful eyes don't shine as I know them to shine."

"Ooh, flatterer!" Caroline blushed. 

"What is on your mind? Is it something that we can help with?" Lucien offered. 

"Not really… It's Mike, he's a bit stuck on that last chat you guys had."

"I am sorry to see that it affects not only him, but also your sleep." 

Her eyebrows jumped and she looked at Mundy with question marks in her eyes. 

"Ex-spy, Mum, he can read stuff like that on your face like it's written in French…!" Mundy answered.

"Well, that's a surprise…" Caroline said. "But yeah, Mike's low mood is gettin' to me a bit. Nothing you lovely boys can do, though. It'll pass, I don't imagine him bein' stuck like that forever."

"If we can do anything, please let us know." Lucien put his hand on hers, on her lap, and Perle jumped on the sofa to brush herself on her grandmother.

"Meow…" 

"Thank you, all of you but it's fine, I promise. It's just makin' him wonder about a lot of things. We gotta give him some time, is all." She concluded. "But what about you boys?" 

"As you wish." Lucien answered. "Mundy must have told you, not much has happened since the last time you graced us with your presence."

"Oh, no, on the contrary!" She answered and both Lucien and Mundy's eyebrows jumped. "Micky told me he fell in love with you again!"

"Mum!" Mundy blushed to his ears and Lucien smiled.

"Yeah, you did…!" Caroline carried Perle like a baby in her arms and went to the coat hanger. She freed the lady cat who nonetheless stuck to her and meowed repeatedly. "Now, I'd better go back to my old Mike. Don't like to leave him alone too long."

"But of course." Lucien and Mundy went to the entrance. Lucien gave Mundy his mother's jacket and gestured to him to help her wear it. 

"Oh, yeah, here Mum…" 

"Good boy… Now, you two behave, yeah?"

"Meow! Meow! Meow!" 

"You too, babies…" She bent down to scratch Perle and Soot who were rubbing themselves on her. 

"See ya, Mum, and you be careful out there, yeah?" 

"Yeah, and see ya, boys." She hugged them one by one and left. 

"Your mother is absolutely charming." 

"Oi, watch it… She's my mum, eh?" 

"Don't worry, it's the son who stole my heart." Lucien smiled and came closer to his lover, splaying his hands on his chest.

"Glad to know…" Mundy hugged his lover and his hands slid down on his back until they slid in his back pockets.

"I see someone has been missing me."

"Course, I have. Y'know, I was - oh?" 

Both froze for a second when they heard a screeching meow from upstairs. They let go of each other and towards where the sound had come from. Mundy arrived first and opened the door to the cat room.

“Oh, bugger…” He shut the door straight.

“What is it?!” Lucien wanted to push Mundy aside.

“N-no, not now, Lu’...!” Mundy blocked the door and the cat screeching resounded again.

“That was Perle crying! What is wrong with her?! Let me help her!”

“Lu’! No! There’s nothing wrong with her, she… Soot and her need a minute…”

“Why?! What is happening there?!”

“They…” Mundy took Lucien’s head between his palms and put his lips next to his ears. “We might be grandpas again…”

“Oh…”

[feuillytheflorist]

the tomgreg coffee shop au i gave up on

i had good intentions but i’ll never finish this so i’m sharing it here. the unfinished coffee shop au that runs parallel to early season one where greg works at a fancy coffee shop instead of waystar (@@van1lla-v1lla1n & anybody else feel free to take any of this and put it in ur own shit! or pretend u never saw it)

The coffee shop downtown was full of uptight business men and women.

They came off Wall Street, out of the offices downtown and in the Financial District, and ordered either black coffee or fancy lattes and espressos-- it was a tossup, usually, Greg had found, though he and his co workers kept a running tab in the back of the orders.

(Greg didn’t know why they couldn’t make black coffee in their offices, but he supposed if you made a lot of money, five bucks for a large coffee didn’t matter.)

Most of them ordered while on the phone. One time a stern looking woman in a grey suit had been firing someone while she ordered a peppermint tea, a combination Greg laughed about afterwards.

He supposed it was good that they weren’t a chain cafe. Those places probably got the <i>really</i> angry people, who threw coffee back at you if it was wrong. The worst that had ever happened on one of Greg’s shifts was a middle aged man had taken a sip of his drink, made direct eye contact with Greg, and said it was the wrong drink, only for Greg to confirm that it wasn’t even his in the first place.

But hey, he wasn’t complaining. The place paid well enough, he got free coffee on his days off, and during the working hours, the clientele was mostly tourists and families.

Greg liked it most when the kids came in and he always somehow managed to have a screwed up cookie or some other snack that they were just going to throw away anyway. It made the kids smile, and the particularly hassled parents were usually thankful.

It was a break from the suits anyway.

Greg knew the regulars easily. He worked almost the same hours every week. Knew that the CFO of that accounting firm three blocks away was a tall blonde woman named Samantha who ordered an Americano every time unless she was especially stressed, because then she ordered tea and heaped sugar into it. One of the big name traders-- Greg didn’t know much else, was an older man named Matthew who was the only one who orderer hot chocolate all year round.

This man was new.

In general, it was fun to point out the customers you thought were attractive. He was sure it was a common occurrence, across countless coffee shops, in countless cities worldwide. Dani, the college student who worked Thursday morning with Greg thought that the daughter who sometimes came in with her banker father was cute, while Thomas, Greg’s Monday afternoon co worker had a thing for the red haired girl who studied there Monday mornings.

“So,” Dani leaned against the counter while Greg made the new man’s drink-- Tom, was the name he had given, and the name that was turning around in his head, “Are like, white collar forty year olds your type?”

“What?” She smiled, and twisted a braid around her finger, “Mr. Wall Street over there, in the fucking suspenders.” “Oh,” Greg frowned and topped off the latte. He wouldn’t have pinned Tom as a latte drinker, and he wondered if this was a regular drink for him, “What?”

She rolled her eyes, “He’s hot I guess, in a Dad kind of way.” “Hated that a little bit,” he put the lid on the cup, and returned to the counter. Tom looked up from his phone, where he’d been furiously texting for the past several minutes, “Here you go.” “Thanks,” he took the cup and then took a sip. Greg noticed this was common. They always took a sip before leaving the counter. Greg was <i>pretty</i> sure it was so they’d have easy access back in case it was wrong. Rich people were always eager to find something to complain about,

Greg smiled-- customer service smile, as Thomas called it, “you’re welcome. Come back soon.” Tom smiled back, a tight smile that people always gave them in response. He heard Dani laugh behind him, and when he turned she was looking at him, arms crossed. “Pathetic. Are you going to sleep with him?” “<i>What?</i>”

She laughed again, and returned to the register. Greg shrugged, and returned to the back, where he was supposed to be taking stock before the lunchtime rush really started.

In general, dating was off the table. Greg’s life was way too precarious to think about letting another person in to it, and besides, fantasizing about a customer you saw once and would possibly never see again was a fun thing to do occasionally, but was a waste of time. And <i>sure</i> he had thought Tom was attractive, but he thought plenty of people were attractive, this one was just obvious to Dani who happened to be watching him. It’d be fun to think about him when he walked in, but in general, unrealistic.

Greg put the thoughts of Tom the executive at the unknown location out of his mind, and focused on not losing track of his counting.

***

Evidently lattes were Tom’s thing because that’s what he stuck with whenever he came in.

“Suspenders is here for you,” Dani said, a week later, “He says you’re the only one that can make his fucking coffee. You better take care of this before I flip.” “Oh,” Greg frowned, “Uh, sure. You want to finish this order.” She nodded, “Anything to get away from him. He’s fucking annoying.” Greg shrugged, and went out front, where Tom was waiting at the cash register. Thankfully there wasn’t a line behind him that he was holding up-- people did that all the time and Greg was pretty sure it was eventually going to cause a riot.

“There you are, talented Mr. Greg,” he smiled, “You know I came here on Friday and you were absent? My latte was not as good.” “Oh yeah I’m off on Fridays,” Greg said, typing in the order. He didn’t bother waiting for Tom to actually tell him. He’d memorized it at this point, “Would you like anything else?” Tom shook his head, “No.”

“Four fifty,” Greg said, more out of habit than anything else, and Tom handed over his card. That was something else white collar people always did. Put everything on their card. Greg had only recently been allowed to use his card again, after it had been overdrawn for… several months, “It’ll be ready in five or so.” “I know,” Tom smiled tightly, “I’ve been up all fucking night. How much caffeine is in lattes, do you know?”

“Uh no,” Greg reached for a cup, “But like, if you want, I can add an extra shot of espresso. On the house.” “Would you?” “Sure,” Greg smiled, “You look pretty tired.” “My uh, future father in law is ill,” he said, “It’s been kind of a hectic time. I only just started a new job in addition to that.” “Oh I’m sorry to hear that, about your father in law,” Greg said. He felt a jab of <i>something</i> at the mention of a father in law, but shoved it away. It was unsurprising, and he had no Goddamn right to be anything about it. But it was like when you found out a celebrity you had a crush on was engaged. There hadn’t been any hope to begin with, but the part of you that liked to dream big was still upset at the loss, “I hope he gets better soon.”

“Thanks,” Tom smiled tightly, and the conversation fell quiet. Greg went to make the drink. Tom returned to his phone.

***

“I’m going to need the biggest size you’ve got,” Tom said, before Greg could even open his mouth to ask how his morning was going, “I’m in deep, deep shit.” “I’m sorry to hear that,” Greg replied. He didn’t understand the world of economics and business very well, but that couldn’t be very good regardless. He was pretty sure Tom worked in an office, not on Wall Street, but he still didn’t know what company he worked for. Tom kept his personal information vague and infrequent.

“Yeah,” Tom ran a hand over his face, “Yeah.”

“Like, do you know what you’re gonna do?” Greg asked, ringing up the order.

“Not a fucking clue,” Tom frowned, “It’s bad.”

“Is your father in law feeling better?” Greg asked. He knew it was risky topic. Maybe the man had fucking died, and it would just make things worse.

“Uh huh,” Tom said absentmindedly.

“Yeah my great uncle was sick for a little bit,” Greg said. His mother had called to tell him such, but he’d already seen the news, “But like, we haven’t seen each other in a long time.” Tom squinted at him, like he was trying to figure out why, exactly, Greg had said that. And in reality, Greg wasn’t sure why. Sometimes he just said things.

“Right,” Tom said, “Coffee?” “Oh sorry. One second.”

*** “You finally came out for drinks!” Thomas exclaimed when Greg slinked over to the bar. Greg liked Thomas because he didn’t put up with shit from any of the customers. He was in law school uptown, and came from California originally and Greg thought he was nice, if a little intense. That was probably the lawyer side of him.

“Yeah I finally paid off my credit card debt so,” Greg shouted back. It was a loud bar, the floor was a little sticky under his feet, and he felt exceptionally large all of the sudden, the crowd pressing against him from almost every direction.

Dani laughed, and slapped his shoulder, “Greg’s just sad because his executive boyfriend is getting married.” “What?” Henrietta, Dani’s roommate who worked at the diner a block away from the coffee shop called back, “Greg you have an executive boyfriend?” “No like,” he shook his head. It was too hard to hear in here, and he knew Dani was just joking, but he didn’t want that kind of false information getting out, “He’s a regular at the shop. Dani thinks I think he’s hot.” “He is kind of hot,” Thomas said, “I mean, objectively.” “He’s engaged,” Dani explained, shaking her head dramatically, “It’s not meant to be.” “You could be his mistress,” Thomas offered. The bartender brought over drinks and Greg took whatever they’d ordered for him, “I bet rich people treat their mistresses, like, really well.” “Mm,” Dani nodded, “I bet so.” “Yeah maybe,” he took a long sip. It burned a little, but anything to get out of talking about this.”

*** On Saturdays, Greg didn’t work until the afternoon. A cursory glance at Twitter the next morning told him two things.

The first was that Tom worked for Waystar, his Uncle Logan’s company. He knew all about Waystar because his grandfather hated it with the passion of a thousand suns-- that’s how Greg saw it anyway. He knew this because several articles had been published about the RECNY Ball, which Tom attended with his fiancée, Shiv.

That was the second thing Greg found out. Tom was engaged to his cousin. They weren’t first cousins. Greg wasn’t much into genealogy, but it was like a cousin removed or something. They’d never been close growing up. His mother kept them on the Christmas card list, but Greg hadn’t seen any of the Roys in several years. Even when he’d come to New York City, they ran in such different social circles that they hadn’t seen each other.

Much to his mother’s disappointment. She still thought he’d somehow be able to secure a job at Waystar with his half Roy bloodline, but he’d hardly had the opportunity.

And now there was this. It was really six degrees of fucking seperation wasn’t it?

***

Greg drove up to Canada for Thanksgiving. His Grandfather had agreed to go to Logan’s for the holiday. Much to everyone’s surprise, Greg was sure. His mother had informed him Marcia said he could go. Greg thought that was bound to be a fun revelation for all involved.

“Cousin uh, Craig,” Logan had said, motioning vaguely to Greg standing next to his Grandfather. Ewan frowned.

“It’s <i>Greg</i> isn’t it?” Shiv said, “Cousin Greg?” “Uh yeah,” Greg replied. A cursory glance said Tom wasn’t there, not yet at least. He wondered where he was, then decided he shouldn’t be wondering it.

“We’re glad to have you,” Marcia-- actually he assumed it was Marcia, they’d never met-- said. Her accent was French maybe, he thought, “Both of you.”

“Well no shit,” Tom said, when he arrived, an hour or so later, “Cousin Greg is my barista.” “Really?” Shiv said, looking between the two of them, “Greg’s the one that makes you those lattes?” “Small fucking world,” Tom smiled, and clapped Greg on the shoulder, “Family huh?”

“Ha yeah.”

***

There was a week Tom didn’t show up at all. Dani called him Romeo and lamented over a love that was never meant to be. Greg laughed, told her she didn’t know the half of it.

[rosy-cheekx]

"Don’t do that. don’t shut me out” and / or “We can talk through the door” - from the trauma sentence starters :)

Okay so this started as a one-off but, as usual, it spiraled outwards! The actual line will be in the next chapter. (That’s right, this bitch has two chapters! AND A PERSPECTIVE SHIFT)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28201191/chapters/69105681

-

It had been hard for Martin to adjust, after the Lonely, after the months of spiraling into the quiet, cold dark, imprisoned in an ever-expanding labyrinth of his own isolation. A therapist he had years ago told him it takes three weeks to manifest a habit, and in the months without his mum, without Jon, Sasha, Tim, god without even Elias to irritate his last fraying nerve, he had time to form hundreds of new habits, his habits of loneliness.

When Peter had given him Elias’ old office, under the guise of space, focus, and mental health (Martin could spit at that looking back, the cruel irony), the room had been rearranged. The desk, which had previously sat in the center of the room, with two slightly uncomfortable chairs positioned in front of it, chairs Martin had been eager to burn in celebration of his new space, had been rearranged. The room was starkly empty, the chairs removed on his behalf, and the desk had been moved to the side of the room, out of view of the door and in fact behind the hinges, so the door swung open in front of his desk, blocking anyone who may sneak a peek in his office a view of him at work. After a while, it was natural to be in the corner of a room closest to the hinges; where the coatrack or a rubbish bin would typically be, there instead was Martin Blackwood, comfortable, solitary. Alone.

The habits expanded outside of the office. Soon enough he was shopping at markets in the quietest hours: during the airings of football matches, at the early-morning markets, at two in the morning because he couldn’t sleep, couldn’t get warm under his duvet. His warm conversations with cashiers and barkers turned to solemn nods and gruff thank-yous, the refreshing smiles they associated with the sweater-clad figure reduced to slow blinks and nods of acknowledgement, and then not even that. They didn’t even wonder what had happened to that nice auburn-haired man who worked “down the street at the old spooky building, did-you-hear-about-those-worms?” Even takeout was too much to bear. The nights where leaving his flat was unconscionable, his delivery requests would always add, “leave outside the flat, tip is under the doormat.”

His neighbors didn’t remember him after a while. Mabel, the kind woman who lived across from him, introduced herself to him, asked when he moved in. Eventually she stopped noticing this new auburn man she hadn’t seen before. Hadn’t seen at all, actually. No one lived across the hall from her, not in her memory. And she had an excellent memory, didn’t-you-know? It was all those crosswords.

Martin started locking his doors. That had been after Jon had returned. He knew that distinctly. Most of these habits loomed over his life slowly, like an ever-expanding fog, until he didn’t realize where they had begun, but the doors? That was a choice.

He wasn’t one for locks overall; his childhood home had forbidden them, save for the exterior doors. It hadn’t bothered him back then, though, and as he grew up and out of the shadow of his mother it never occurred to him that he could just shut people out like that. So easy, so simple, but so unnecessary for so long. Martin was the one breaking down those barriers, especially at the Institute. Getting Sasha to talk about her anger when they first moved into the Archives, her quiet confession that she had wanted that job for so long, had been told by Gertrude she was a promising candidate. That had been fixed with a cup of tea and the promise that he would support her if she wanted to quit, but that it seemed like Tim needed her, Jon too. Getting Tim to open up about Danny, his sorrow that had been simmering so long under the surface, a grief Martin didn’t quite know how to fathom. But he tried, with comforting touches and warm voice, trying to ease Tim back from the precipice over which he had been hovering. Not enough. Never enough. Even Jon had begun to be kinder to him, after Prentiss, after Martin had proven he wasn’t a waste of space in the Archives, begun to be honest and open about his take on the weird things they experienced here. He had even texted him rather frequently, towards the end, updating him on his trip to America and of the occasional sights that caught his eye (‘In Pittsburgh they put chips on sandwiches and salads, Martin, look at this! Image_0102 attached’ Even in text, his grammar was impeccable.) But after Jon recovered from his coma, lapse with death, whatever it had been, Martin had been too far gone. He couldn’t risk Jon bursting in, bothering him, worrying and fussing. So he’d called in a locksmith to install the simple bolt, enough to stop a distracted, harried Archivist (who had never quite learned it was polite to knock) from bursting into his office at all hours.

But after all that, after the Lonely and Peter Lukas and “look at me and tell me what you see,” it was hard to break the achingly comfortable habits. For the first few days in Scotland, Martin didn’t really remember what had happened. While out of the domain itself, he was still trapped in its cloying embrace, and everything felt too real, too looming, too much; it had been easy to slip into silence for hours in Daisy’s safehouse. Too easy to pull the fog around him and watch himself sit, drawn up behind the door, as he watched and listened and waited for Jon to forget about him. It had never happened though. No matter how many hiding places he found, cold and dark and solitary, Jon always found him, blanket and tea in tow (always a little too sweet for Martin’s liking), and his scalding embrace was enough to drag him back to reality, shivering and sweating, whispering apologies.

-

They needed supplies. Daisy had left behind plenty of MREs in her pantry, stuff they could theoretically rely on, but it was all very basic nutritionary needs and both Martin and Jon were vegetarians, (more or less, Martin had stopped eating red meat as a teenager and Jon entirely after working in the Archives) and the dehydrated pasta alfredo was gone, seemingly the only vegetarian item in Daisy’s stock. Martin hadn’t even tried to touch the canned fruit, the orange-yellow of the peaches haunting him.

Martin suspected it was also a desperate attempt for the pair to practice feeling normal again. To be just two friends? Companions? Coworkers? Boyfriends? people stocking up their fridge and going on with a normal, non-horror filled life. A secluded, bare safehouse was certainly not helping them adjust any quicker, though neither man had dared leave quite yet, be it the risk of losing what little security they had accrued here or the inability to leave the other alone quite yet.

“Is-Do you know if it’s busy today?” Martin had asked, trying desperately to shape his voice into calm curiosity.

Jon considered the question for a minute, expression soft, and dear lord Martin wasn’t sure he would ever get used to the way Jon’s shadows seemed to darken and solidify when he Learned, his whole form shifting in and out of focus imperceptibly like the background was blending into him and not the other way round, the way Martin was accustomed.

“Mm, not bad. No one interesting. A couple families shopping for the week, twelve customers, four employees, total-oh, fourteen, mum and son just walked in…” Martin’s eyebrow was raised. “Ah,” Jon cleared his throat. “Sorry. Fourteen people. If that’s too many, I can go by myself, you know. I’m not going to force you.”

“N-no, no. I should go. Exposure therapy, right?”

Jon had smiled warmly and tentatively rested a hand on Martin’s shoulder, before sliding the hand, scarred and calloused, to squeeze Martin’s own cold one.

-

The grocery was small, a locally run place playing tinny jazz through the speakers. As Martin stepped through the doors with Jon, he was struck by how warm it was in the store. He could feel the prickle of anxiety burning under his skin, bringing a flush to his cheeks. He could hear the whine of the electric lights piercing his skull and settling behind his eyes. He gripped the trolley’s handle tight, firmly keeping his eyes forward. He was fine, he could do this.

Martin was not fine. They had worked their way through the aisles quickly, Jon using his Knowledge to figure out where every item they needed had been located. Martin was on autopilot, quietly steering the cart and flinching when anyone came to close to him. The heat of life was radiating off everyone in the store, even Jon, and it was scalding, blinding, debilitating. He hadn’t noticed Jon asking him a question until, Jon carefully, gingerly, brought his hand to hover near Martin’s cheek, not touching, just waiting for a response.

“Martin?” he heard distantly, calling him back to reality, where fog didn’t drift over the aisles and the soft rush of waves didn’t echo in his ears.

“-mm?” The hand was gone, his skin tingled with the rush of cold returning to his face. He wished it would come back, to hold his face and promise it would be alright.

“I was wondering what tea you wanted to buy? I’m no expert and I know you have your preferences. I miss-” Jon cleared his throat. “I’ve missed your tea in the Archives. All the staff drank coffee after you left. Disgusting.”

Tea. This was something Martin could do. He took a step away from the trolley, his life raft, and studied the aisles, trying to will his mind to focus.

Tea, tea, tea. Rooibos and chamomile for sleepless nights. Herbal for variety. Jon likes caffeinated teas. Maybe some chai? That’ll be good when it gets really cold…god how long will we be here? Through winter? Forever? He could stay here forever if it meant Jon was there too.

He grabbed a couple of boxes of familiar brands, throwing them in the trolley, as well as whatever felt familiar, what he’d usually pick up.  

“I thought you didn’t like oolong.”

Martin frowned, glancing down at the box in his hand. “I don’t. Uh, force of habit I guess.” He set the box back quickly, as if it was burning his hand. “M’mum liked it so I would pick it up for her. Guess its been a while…” he trailed off, uncertain of what he was about to say. He’s bought tea since she died, hasn’t he?

He thinks back, through all his months in Elias’s office and at home.

Oh. Guess not.

Had he really not drunk tea at all? God, he had really changed more than he thought under the influence of Peter. Tea had been such a staple of his life, his personality, he was the one dragging Jon and Sasha and Tim to teahouses for his birthday and insisting he make a cuppa for everyone on the days that felt too dark. The last time he could remember holding a warm cup of tea in his hands was when he was sitting at Jon’s bedside in the hospital, reading him Keats in the desperate hope he would hate it so much he would wake up, even if just to scold his assistant.

Martin knew serving The Lonely had changed him. But here, in the aisle of a Scottish grocery, he was realizing how entirely debased he had become. Was he even Martin Blackwood anymore?

Martin blinked to see the grocery around him cloaked in fog. No, that wasn’t right. He was cloaked in fog. The world was a pale blue-grayscale, slightly translucent. He hadn’t been here in a while but the cool balm over his anxiety settled like cool cloth and he felt distantly quiet. Calm.  He left the store in a haze and began the slow trudge up to the safehouse. Jon wasn’t here in this place, which was probably for the best. Martin couldn’t hurt him here, couldn’t burden him with whatever pesky emotions he had felt in the grocery, whatever they had been. They were a distant memory now, oolong and guilt.

-

By the time Martin had hiked up the hill to the safehouse, he felt safe enough to leave the Lonely, and felt the cool numbness drift off him like steam as the world sharpened around him. With the world came the sharp sting of his realization came with it; the understanding that he wasn’t the same person he had been when he had said goodbye to Tim, Melanie, and Jon, and certainly not the same person he had been when he had backed through the doors to the Institute and let that dog in, what felt like decades ago now.

Martin Blackwood let the door swing shut behind him as he made his way inside, hearing the rumble of Jon’s car rolling up the gravel driveway. He moved quickly through the house, looking desperately for a place to escape as he heard the faint call of his name outside. He couldn’t-he just couldn’t talk to Jon right now; he didn’t know how to explain how betrayed he felt and by on fault but his own. The closest room was the bathroom, dark and clean, and pressed back against the door as he clicked the door shut, turning the latch on the door.

Click.

The bolt slid into the mechanism of the door frame, and that sound was what sent Martin spiraling.

he was alone he was alone he was alone.