#but now I’m realizing that just the way I talk is totally enough to prompt that ajbdndndndnme

[sickgraymeat]

the hope that maybe despite it all things are going to be less terrible and terrible a little less often AND maybe you’re even known/heard/understood and still loved?? Delicious! Appetizing! Protein-packed soul food!!! I make a cheap imitation recipe called fanfiction!

[wolfjackle-creates]

broski I beg of u to tell me about your Danny is Clark’s nephew wip im so intrigued

@hailsatanacab also asked about this one! I shared two snippets for them so check out Part 1 and Part 2. (about 900 words total between the two asks.)

This was inspired by the discussion on a prompt you made ages ago, actually! Here's the post. The main prompt isn't the inspiration, however. It was the comment about Danny joining the JL and [insert spiderman meme here].

Let's see if I have anything I can add. (I changed things enough when posting the first bits that everything else I have doesn't fit anymore.)

Eh, fine. Just went through and wrote another 600 words.

-----

Danny winced. “Yes, Uncle Cl— Kal. Uncle Kal.” Danny glanced next to him and realized Constantine had moved several feet away and was deliberately trying to not attract attention. He bit back a smile and pulled on the Prince Phantom persona Queen Dora had forced him to learn. “Thank you for your assistance, Laughing Magician. I now declare our deal complete and will make no further claims on you.” He waved his hand producing a piece of parchment which he handed over. “As promised, your payment.”

Constantine grabbed the paper and backed away quickly. “Great. Glad to do business with you, your highness. Hope your family reunion goes well. I’ll just—” he jerked a thumb over his shoulder, then changed something and disappeared through a portal even as several of the League members present tried to yell at him to stop.

Danny rolled his eyes as he fell back into his more relaxed demeanor. “Oh, please. What more did you want from him? I’ll talk to Uncle Kal and he can decide what is important to pass on. Magician Constantine already told you most of what he knows.”

“Just… come on, Danny,” said Uncle Clark. “We need to talk.”

---

Finding a place to talk to Danny wasn’t the problem, Clark quickly realized. Shaking off his coworkers, however… Bruce in particular did not want to be left out. And Wally was too curious to be put off.

“Danny?” called Clark when he realized the kid wasn’t with him.

“By the viewing window,” said Bruce. “He seems to enjoy the view.”

“Right. Should’ve guessed.” Clark cursed himself silently for forgetting how much the kid loved space. “Batman, please. I know you like to know everything. But can I just talk to my nephew alone? I’ll explain everything I can after, but I need to know how this situation could’ve happened in my own family without my knowledge first without you being there inserting Opinions.”

“Very well. I’ll collect Flash and we’ll leave the two of you alone. But I expect a full report after.”

“I’ll make a peach cobbler, Ma’s recipe, and head to the Manor tomorrow to tell you everything.”

“I’ll let Nightwing know.”

Clark sighed. “I’ll make two cobblers.”

Bruce’s lips twitched upward, but he turned without saying anything more. “Flash! Since this matter is going to be delayed, I believe you still have to file your report on the incident last week.”

Clark chuckled as Flash protested. But he didn’t listen to their discussion, instead joining Danny by the viewing window. He settled an arm around his nephew’s shoulders. “Beautiful, aren’t they?”

“I can’t believe you get to come up here and look out at the stars any time you want.”

“I don’t get up here as much as I’d like, I’m afraid. And when I am up here, it’s because something somewhere is going wrong so I don’t get to appreciate it as much as I’d like to.”

“So, if you’re an alien, does that mean Dad’s an alien, too? Is that why he is the way he is? Am I part alien?”

Clark laughed and ruffled Danny’s hair. Like this, it felt almost insubstantial, like passing his hand through mist. “Fraid not, kid. No one knows why your dad is the way he is. I can’t remember how often he was tested for the meta gene.”

“Once a year every year from the time he was six until he was twenty-two and graduated undergrad and started living on his own. Then he stopped for a few years. Until he started dating Mom. He accidentally broke her apartment door once and she insisted he get tested again.”

Clark wanted to laugh, but all he could remember was Danny’s earlier statement. “Danny… Are you…safe with your parents?”

-----

Again, anyone is free to continue this! If anyone wants, I can combine everything into one post to make it easier to do so.

[five-rivers]

vacation in camazotz

@rgbyshipper101

.

“... keeps going like this, he’s going to end up dropping the house into another dimension again.”  Danny sighed heavily.  

“Well, that’s not really fair,” said Sam.  

“Huh?  What do you mean?” asked Danny, blinking blankly at her.  “That’s definitely a thing he did.”

“Yeah, but that wasn’t totally him.”

“He was pretty tangential, actually,” said Tucker.  “Unless there’s something you aren’t telling us?”

“I… haven’t I told you about the time he sent the house into a parallel dimension?”

“You didn’t exactly need to.  We were all there.”

“No,” said Danny.  “What are you guys talking about?”

“Yes, we were.  The whole town was there,” said Tucker.  

“You know,” prompted Sam.  “Vlad pawning the Ring of Rage off on Valerie, you pulling Fright Knight’s sword out of the ground, Pariah Dark.”

“Yeah, you’re more related to us winding up in the Ghost Zone than your dad is.”

“Ooohhhh, I get what’s going on.  You’re thinking of a completely different time.  The time I’m talking about is way back in sixth grade.”

Sam’s gamer cave (she did not call it that, but that’s what it was) went quiet enough that the faint hum of the computer screens could be heard.  

“Your dad sent you guys to another dimension when you were in sixth grade,” said Sam, spinning her chair around and pointing a painted fingernail at Danny.

“Yeah,” said Danny.

“Three years before your whole…”  She waved her hand at him.  “Thing.”

“Before you got zapped, she means,” said Tucker.

“Yeah.  So?”

“So,” said Sam, “why is that, even though you knew alternate dimensions were a thing and your dad could get you there, you didn’t believe in ghosts and were okay with walking into the portal?”

“Okay, but, look,” said Danny.  He put his controller to one side.  “That’s– That’s a false equivalency.”

“Spending time with Jazz, I see,” said Tucker.  He was now the only one still playing the game.  

“Shut up,” said Danny.  “I know stuff without Jazz telling me about it.  But just because one unbelievable thing is true, that doesn’t mean that all unbelievable things are true.  Besides, the dimension we wound up in was way different from the Ghost Zone.  Had nothing to do with ghosts at all.  Definitely not something you look at and then go, ah, yes, ghosts exist.”

“But you knew that other dimensions existed.  Even if there weren’t ghosts on the other side of the portal, you still could’ve realized that it could take you to another dimension.”

“But it didn’t do that.  It just half killed me.”

“By opening a portal to another dimension in you.”

“And?”

Sam glared at him.  “You’re just playing dumb at this point.”

“Neither of you are playing anything, and I think at this point we can just say that Danny’s dumb.”  Tucker’s computer let out a little jingle as his character completed a quest.  

“Hey!  Most of their stuff doesn’t work,” said Danny, exasperated.  

“But you were messing around with something that they had made work before.  Didn’t you think that could be dangerous?  Or have consequences?  Drop you in yet a different dimension?  Something?”

“They said it didn’t work.  I believed them.  And you guys kept hassling me about it.”

“Someone skipped out on the ‘don’t give in to peer pressure’ PSAs,” said Tucker, singsong.  

“You are not innocent here, Tucker!  We’ve all done dumb stuff.  Can we drop it?  I thought we were playing games today, not playing ‘gang up on Danny for stuff we all did.’”

“Fine,” said Sam.  She picked her controller back up.  Danny picked his up a second later. 

They continued playing the game.  

Then Sam dropped her controller again, this time in her lap.  “Okay, actually, this is going to bother the heck out of me if I don’t know.  How did your Dad drop the house in an alternate dimension?”

“And what was it like?” added Tucker.  He, of course, kept his eyes on the game.  

“What was it like…” said Danny, contemplative.  He made his character run around in circles.  “How to explain?”

“Start with how you got there,” said Sam.  “Go from there.”

“Okay.  Well.  It started off– It was pretty normal.  You know.”

“Uh, no,” said Tucker.  “Sending your house to another dimension is not normal.”

“Normal for them.  For my parents.”

“Define normal here.  Like, describe it,” said Tucker.  

“Working on the portal.”

Sam let out a slow, exasperated sigh.  “Really, Danny?”

“Well, it was that or weapons.  Do you think their weapons teleported us to another dimension?”

“They could’ve.  The bazooka does,” said Tucker.  

“Fair,” said Danny.  “But, like, they were working on the portal, but then they were going over some of the math - it was wrong, obviously - and they saw that there was, like, there was a, um.  There was an ‘interesting result.’  Supposedly, distance fell out of the equation if you had the right inputs.  Something like that.”

“Which means… what?” asked Sam.  

“They thought they could make a teleporter.”

“What!”  Tucker finally whirled away from his monitor.  “They have a teleporter?  They made a teleporter?”

“No.  That’s the whole point.  No teleporter.  They messed it up.  But, like, they built what they thought was a teleporter.  And, of course, as soon as they built it, they had to use it.  Mom wanted to do small tests, sending an apple back and forth or something, but Dad decided to jump right into teleporting the entire house, because it was vacation time.”

“Yeah, okay, that sounds like your dad,” said Tucker.  

“Doesn’t it?  Which is why I’m worried now, because it’s the same thing all over again, he keeps getting too excited and then doesn’t slow down to make sure things work the way they’re supposed to.”

“You have no right to criticize that, Mr. Walks Into a Portal and Dies,” said Sam.  

“I think I’m the only one who does have the right to criticize it.”

“And the dimension?” asked Tucker.  “I want to know about the alternate dimension.”

“Right,” said Danny.  “Well, when Dad ‘teleported’ us, we knew things were wrong pretty much right away.  You guys have read a Wrinkle in Time, right?”

“Sure,” said Sam.  

“Yeah,” said Tucker.  “It was assigned last year, wasn’t it?”

“Right, so, you know the planet with the brain?  It was– It was kind of like that.”  His character died and he sighed.  “I suck at multitasking.  It wasn’t even just the stuff, it was, like, the air was flat.  The texture of everything was wrong.  Everything was… fake?  Like a performance, except it was the whole world.  Everyone just had these smiles on their faces but they were… empty.”

Sam propped her head up on her fist.  “Your parents sent you to play outside and didn’t notice any of that, didn’t they?”

“They did.  But they did notice stuff.  Like, all the houses being the same, the creepy sky–”

“The sky was creepy?”

“Super creepy.  It was like.  Segmented.  Triangles.  Like we were inside a pyramid.  And all the roofs were also pyramids, now that I think about it.  Just, pyramids everywhere.  Really pointy ones.  Oh!  And gravity was also a pyramid.”

“What?” asked Sam.  

“Gravity was a pyramid.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It was a pyramid.  Gravity.”

“Okay, okay, I think I’ve got this,” said Tucker.  “What shape is gravity here?”

“It’s round,” said Danny, “duh.”

“It’s round, so there you go, Sam,” said Tucker.  

“It is round,” said Danny.  “Like, gravitational fields, they’re round.  But they were pyramids there.”

“Wow,” said Sam.  “I wouldn’t have expected that.  Pyramids.”

“See?  Ghost Zone is totally different.”

“Yep,” said Tucker.  His computer let out another chime.  “By the way, you guys owe me soda now.”“How did you do that?” complained Danny.  “You weren’t even looking at the screen!”

[five-bi-five-mind]

"I think... I'm in love with (Name)" || "Congrats on being the last one to find out" jj is talking to kate who says that^^^. (Meaning jj thinks she may be in love with reader.)

Deal With It

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: JJ x Fem!Reader

Genre: smut & fluff

Words: 4.1k+

Summary: JJ sees you flirting with someone else and she makes a plan. Little did she know you had one yourself.

Warnings: Jealous JJ, top!JJ, bottom!reader, oral (r receiving), fingering (r receiving), lots of overstimulation, kind of rough sex, semi-public spicy moment…

A/N: a little late but happy pride 🌈 here’s a lil something to celebrate. Also slightly different than what the prompt called for but… I think y’all will like it either way.

“You’re holding onto that drink tight, huh?” Kate came up behind JJ. “Afraid it’ll disappear?” JJ looked down at the drink in her hand, noticing her knuckles had turned white from her grip. She just couldn’t help it. It was either that or she would toss what’s left of it into someone’s face. And she had a specific target in mind. 

“Is it because of that over there?” Kate nodded her head to the scene in front of JJ. There you were, chatting up some random man, totally oblivious to the fuming blonde in the other corner of the bar. You smiled at him in the same way you smiled at JJ. Shy, but sweet. She wanted that smile to only be for her. It drove her crazy that it so clearly wasn’t.

“I think I’m in love with (Y/N).” JJ heard the words before she even realized what was coming out of her mouth. Damn how many drinks has she had? Not enough to just blurt out life altering realizations. She wasn’t drunk, barely tipsy even. No, she was just blindly jealous of the way you laughed at whatever weak joke the man was making. JJ seethed at the way he put his hand on your arm for a moment, lingering way too long for her liking. Her heart ached at the way you didn’t recoil, it didn’t even seem to phase you. When she did it to you, it was like a little endearing game she had. She would touch your arm, watch you smile at her with just a hint of a blush. She could swear she saw the same twinkle in your eye that she was sure she also got when looking at you. Maybe she just read into things too much. Although, she hadn’t seen the telltale blush you got from her when he stepped closer. The adorable smile might be there, and maybe it was the few drinks or her jealousy talking, but she thought your smile didn’t quite meet your eyes. Hopefully. 

“Congratulations,” Kate chuckled, breaking JJ from her intense glaring. “You’re officially the last to know.” 

“I have to deal with this,” JJ grumbled as her eyes moved back to where you stood. Whatever comment Kate might have had on her big realization could wait. That man was getting too bold and JJ had bigger fish to fry. He was closing in on you, he was two seconds from making his move and she knew it. 

If JJ’s grip on her drink tightened anymore, the glass would shatter in her hands. She slammed the drink on the table next to her, a bit too loudly, but she didn’t care. Her eyes narrowed at the man who was absolutely oblivious to her newfound hatred of him. “I’ll be right back,” JJ said without even taking her eyes off the two of you for a second. She heard Kate sigh an exaggerated “finally” as she stepped away.

JJ didn’t know what her next move was going to be as she stormed towards you. She was angry, she was jealous, she was going to be irrational. You had no reason to even know why JJ would be in such a sour mood, at least not in her mind. As far as JJ knew you were oblivious to her feelings for you. However, Kate’s words did help. If JJ was really the last to know, does that mean you did too? JJ didn’t have answers to that, she didn’t have time to even question Kate’s choice of words. Right now, her emotions were overflowing as her worst nightmare played out before her eyes. She thought she had time to play the long game, waiting for you to come to her with feelings she had hoped you’d develop. But here this random man was, swooping in on the thing she wanted most. JJ couldn’t have that. She wouldn’t. 

“Excuse me.” JJ practically shoved the man as she got face to face with you. He didn’t even have time to say a single word before JJ had your hand in hers and was tugging you away. “Come with me for a second,” she said as she practically dragged you through the bar to the bathroom.

You honestly were a little bit shocked, but not completely. The satisfied grin on your face was definitely noticed by Kate as she stayed in the corner of the bar and watched the scene unfold. You knew what you were doing tonight. Everyone else knew what you were doing tonight. JJ was the only one who was totally blind to your little scheme. 

If you were being honest, maybe you pushed it a little too far. That man genuinely thought you were interested in him, but all you wanted was to make JJ jealous so she would finally act. It just took a little more pushing than you expected. She could be so infuriatingly stubborn sometimes, but when you watched from the corner of your eye as she practically stomped over to you in a jealous rage, you knew you succeeded with your little plan. 

JJ on the other hand had no plan. Take you away from the man hitting on you was as far as she got. So far that part is done. Now what? If she dragged you away she could talk to you, but what would she say? She was two steps away from the bathroom and then she’d have to come up with some sort of explanation. If she was honest and pinned it on jealousy, would you understand? It wasn’t like you were her girlfriend, she had no reason to be so angry.

But then there you two were. She had burst into the bathroom to find it totally empty. She didn’t know if that was a blessing or a curse. Her grip on your hand slipped as she tried to calm down. She took a few deep breaths, practically winded from how fast she pulled you to the bathroom with her. You looked at her expectantly. JJ noticed you didn’t look mad, at least that was a relief. You just stood there, head tilted to the side, a curious smile tugging on your lips that you were trying so hard to hide. She was really struggling with what to do next, what to say, and you found it a little cute. It wasn’t often when you saw Jennifer Jareau at a loss for words and unsure of what to do next. Maybe you should give her another push?

“JJ, what’s up?” She was silent. Honestly, she looked at you like a deer caught in the headlights. “You interrupted a conversation, you know? If you don’t have anything to say then I’ll go return to-”  

And then JJ finally responded, but not with words or honestly much thought even. JJ practically lunged for you in a split second decision to keep you from going back to that guy. Her lips connected with yours in an instance and the power behind her kiss had you stumbling back until the small of your back hit the counter. Her hands immediately flew to tangle in your hair as her lips pressed harder to yours for a moment. 

Honestly, the moment this idea popped into her head, JJ ran with it. Did she think it out? Absolutely not. If words aren't working then she just thought she would deal with this by using her lips. So she did. Was it a great plan? No. Was it working? To her utter surprise and relief, yes it really was. You were kissing her back. Your arms went to wrap around her neck and when she kissed you even deeper, your lips parted eagerly.

JJ was absolutely floored. When she felt your tongue trace the bottom of hers, her hands fell from your hair to pull on the belt loops of your jeans and press your body closer to her own. This was intoxicating, the feeling of kissing you. JJ didn’t want to stop, she didn’t know if she honestly could stop. If just kissing you was this good, she couldn’t begin to imagine how amazing it would feel to go even further. 

But after a while of just kissing you, you both had to come up for air. JJ also thought maybe some words were necessary after she just dragged you away like that. 

“Woah,” you whispered when she pulled back.

“Yeah woah,” JJ echoed breathlessly. 

“I have been waiting for you to do that for forever,” you chuckled before leaning forward to press a brief kiss to JJ’s lips. 

JJ chased your lips when you started to pull back, pressing her own more firmly to yours again. She was absolutely lost in your touch and how close she finally had you and she wasn’t ready to let there be space between you two yet. “Then why didn’t you do it yourself?” JJ mumbled against your lips. 

“Hm,” you hummed against her lips, “maybe because I like seeing you a little jealous.” Or maybe it was because the team had some bets on how long it would take and you didn’t want any of them to win… but what you said wasn’t a lie either. You just didn’t want to admit to that part. Sometimes you’d catch JJ getting jealous if you were a little too close to other members of the team. That look she got was fun to see if you were being honest. Plus, you were getting impatient too. So, this plan you had really worked in your favor. 

Before JJ could really reply to that you pressed your lips fully against hers again, pulling her body closer by the hold you still had on her. JJ gladly let you, her hands that were once resting on your waist, gripping a little tighter now. When she felt your tongue swipe against her lips, hers immediately peaked out to meet yours and the feeling had both of you groan into the kiss. You had wanted JJ for so long and JJ had wanted you for probably quite a bit longer. Both of you were impatient. That’s why you made your plan, that’s why she acted so rashly. 

When JJ’s lips moved from your own and connected with your neck, you were already squirming where you stood. Who knew her lips could feel so damn good? Who knew you could want someone so bad you were two seconds away from begging? Meanwhile, JJ hands had a mind of their own, one of them moving to the front of your pants and popping open the button before sliding right in. Her lips were currently attached to where your shoulder met your neck, no doubt leaving a mark behind. Your teeth were sinking into your own bottom lip to keep from moaning the minute you felt JJ’s finger tips graze your clit over the thin cloth of your underwear. 

A pathetic whine left your lips as she pressed down and you felt the friction of her touch through the fabric. Her fingers pressed more firmly but your hand flew to her wrist, effectively stopping her. It wasn’t that you didn’t want this. God, you really did. But you didn’t want it here. In a bar bathroom, where anyone could barge in. 

“JJ, let’s- let’s get out of here.” Your voice was shaky, but still filled with need. “Take me to your place.” 

JJ’s hand slipped out from inside your pants. Wiith a nod she pulled away, gently taking your hand in hers. Kate didn’t miss the way you both left that bar, hand in hand. 

—————————————————————

Your back immediately hit the bed the second you stepped into JJ’s bedroom. You didn’t even get one second to take it all in, to finally appreciate that you were in her room, about to be with the girl you’ve been waiting for. No, instead the instant your back hit the mattress, JJ was tugging at your pants, fighting to pull them off. When she did finally manage to peel them off your body, her hands flew to her own, unbuttoning them and kicking them off with a determination you don’t think you’ve even seen from her when she was on a case. But fuck was it hot. 

JJ was ready to have you. Any longer and she felt like she was going to combust. The ride home was already hard enough. She ordered an uber since you both had had a couple drinks, but still not enough to compromise your decision making. However, she didn’t know if it was the moment you shared in the bathroom or the few drinks she did have that made her self control almost nonexistent. It was entirely way too hard to keep her hands off you in that car. Especially when you kept looking over at her, your lip between your teeth and a slight blush on your cheeks. It was adorable and all too tempting at the same time.

The moment she had you on her bed, it was like her brain short circuited and any thoughts of holding back went right out the window. She was ready to dive in. When you were finally naked on her bed, having helped her get your own shirt and bra off, she fully stripped too before climbing onto the bed. The only thing she did slowly was pull your panties down your legs, placing kisses on your thighs as she went. Then finally, you were completely naked on her bed and she thought this day would never come. 

Without much hesitation, she placed her hands under your knees and pushed your legs apart so you were spread open in front of her as she knelt on the mattress before you. You were absolutely captivated by the hungry look in her eye, letting her do just about anything she wanted to you without a second thought. Should you have felt a little shy about being so open and vulnerable beneath her? Maybe, but you had wanted this just as badly as she did and if she didn’t touch you soon, you were about ready to beg. Lucky for you, it was like JJ read your mind at that moment.

Without much warning, with her hold on your legs, JJ pulled them over her shoulders and leaned down, angling you in just the right way for her to dive in. And dive in she did. You both moaned the minute you felt her tongue on you. Her from the taste, and you from the feeling of her tongue taking a long, deep lick between your folds. She repeated that action again and again and you felt the muscles in your abdomen tense with each time the tip of her tongue ran over your clit. It was almost too much already and you did feel slightly embarrassed by the sounds that were coming out of you. But then she took your clit into her mouth and began to suck. The speed in which your hand flew to your mouth was shocking. Your teeth san into your knuckles to keep from crying out. JJ didn’t even seem to notice, she just kept going, absolutely lost in the taste of you. She could do this for hours, she thought. Not only did you taste amazing, but the way you were squirming in her hold and letting out so many tiny, tantalizing moans. JJ wasn’t drunk from the very few drinks she had tonight. No, she was drunk off of you. 

Her lips left your clit with a quiet pop and her tongue went back to exploring your folds. Your hand dropped from your mouth and you took deep breaths, your legs beginning to tremble around JJ’s head. You could swear JJ was teasing you at this point, given the fact that the way she was using her tongue to play with your clit had you approaching that edge, only for her to stop and go back to drinking in your pussy the way she currently was. But then, you felt JJ’s tongue go lower, tracing your entrance for a second before sliding in and the gasp that left your lips echoed through the room. She lapped at you like that, her tongue dipping in and out slowly, but in a way that had your whole body shaking now. Then her tongue left you again and moved back to your clit. 

The way she paid attention to your clit before was nothing compared to now. Her tongue was circling your clit in a way that had you whining and gripping at her sheets. It only took a few more seconds before you were cumming all over her mouth with a pathetic moan falling from your lips. JJ didn’t even waste time from that, letting go of her hold on your legs, crawling up your body in a way that had you both feeling each other’s bare skin against one another. Her lips connected with yours in a heated kiss that was all tongue and teeth. You were still breathless, panting against her lips as you tried to keep up. JJ on the other hand was not done with you. You would’ve thought that she would slow down after making you cum once but then you felt her hand slink down between your bare bodies until it reached between your legs. Without any sort of warning, suddenly, you felt two of her fingers slip inside you with ease. 

Gasping against her lips, your hands moved from the sheets to fly to her shoulders. Nails digging into her skin, it only spurred on her actions more as she started pumping into you at a steady pace. Your hips moved with her own, and having still not recovered from your first orgasm, you were already extra sensitive and approaching another quicker than either of you wanted. 

JJ’s fingers curled inside you at the same time as her teeth sunk down slightly and tugged on your lip. You knew at this point that your nails were definitely leaving marks in her skin. She didn’t seem to care or even notice though, letting go of your lip to move her lips down your neck, teeth grazing against your skin. Your head fell back onto the pillow as one of her hands moved back down your body to take your leg and hook it over her hip, allowing her to push her fingers inside you even deeper. It took two more pumps of her fingers before you were coming all over them with a cry of her name. However, JJ didn’t stop there. She still wasn’t done with you, absolutely lost in the way you felt and sounded. She wanted to keep making you cum for her over and over again and that’s what she was going to try to do.

Without even slowing down, she kept pumping her fingers into you. Your whole body was trembling and you were lucky you had enough control and thought to release her shoulders and move one hand to the sheets to grip them even harder. The other one moved to tangle in her hair, your hold tight. She pressed her forehead to yours as she kept fucking into you, whispering praises and filthy things you never thought you’d hear from her as she continued. The hand that held your leg over her waist was gripping tightly and her fingers picked up the pace even more, again hitting that spot that had you easily approach that edge. With each pump of her fingers, JJ’s eyes were locked on your every reaction. You were too seconds from coming and with another particularly hard thrust of her fingers, you fell apart again. But she didn’t stop there, she only slowed for just a moment until suddenly you felt her add a third finger with ease. 

“Jesus fuck!” You cried once you felt the stretch of her fingers inside you, pumping even faster somehow as you tightened around her yet again.

“God, you feel so good,” JJ said in a gravelly voice. “I love the way you cum for me. Love the way you feel. Fuck, baby, moan for me just like that.” JJ was half aware of what she was saying, having completely given into the feeling of having you literally wrapped around her fingers. With each time you came for her, she was getting more lost. There was no longer a filter, no longer control. She was indulging in everything she was holding back before and she wasn’t ready to stop yet.

The burn of the way her fingers stretched your pussy lasted only a brief moment before the increased pleasure hit you even harder. Your eyes were rolled back and it felt like every muscle was tensed in your body when she finally dragged out a surprising third orgasm for you. You thought surely this would be the last time, she had to be losing some of her stamina, but when her fingers didn’t slow you were suddenly very aware of your every nerve. 

“JJ I- fuck… I can’t,” you pleaded. It wasn’t that it didn’t feel good. God, even if you were feeling spent it still felt so fucking good. But your body was wearing out and the way your legs were trembling around her told you that you would be incredibly sore the next time you tried to walk.

“One more,” JJ begged. “Give me one more. You can do it, baby.” And the way her voice sounded so desperate absolutely broke you. You nodded your head and JJ moved to bury hers in your shoulder, her teeth sinking into your skin, any thought of trying to hide the marks she was leaving were non-existent. Her fingers pounded into you and at this point you could feel your own cum dripping down your thighs and onto the sheets as she kept going. Any attempt to muffle the way you were moaning and whining for her had completely failed at this point. The room was filled with your cries as her three fingers curved inside you and constantly hit just the right spot that had your whole body shuddering. Again, you were quickly approaching that edge and with how worked up your body was at this point there was no stopping yourself from cumming again. With the way JJ was fucking you now, she was putting full force into it. You could imagine your thighs might have bruises in the morning. With every thrust of her fingers inside you, she put more power into it with the movement of her hips. You were trying your hardest to match her pace, but at this point you were too fucked out to even slightly follow up, But with each time her three fingers fucked into you deeper, you cried out her name and it only took a matter of moments before you were cumming yet again all over her hand. 

Your body finally relaxed when JJ slowed her pace. Your back hit the mattress after it arched from the final mindblowing orgasm she gave you. Your chest was heaving as you laid beneath JJ. She held herself up for a moment, taking in your current state. You looked so beautiful this way, JJ thought. Your body still trembling from how good she was making you feel, cum dripping from your thighs down onto her sheets, your face flushed from the intensity of orgasm after orgasm that she was able to pull from you. In time, she thought, she’d get you used to lasting even longer. JJ already decided she was absolutely addicted to the way it felt when she made you cum. She knew she was going to need more than a few long nights of doing just that in the future. 

Finally, gently JJ laid herself on top of you. You hummed at the feeling of both your bodies pressed together. It was strangely comforting to feel her body wait on top of yours. She placed a gentle kiss on your forehead and then each of your cheeks before pressing her own forehead to yours again. This time a small smile tugged on her lips, one hand reached to your face. Her fingers trailed your cheek for a moment and neither of you needed to say anything to know how the other was feeling.

But finally, JJ broke the silence, the high of having you the way that she did, fading into a comfortable feeling of warmth. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” JJ whispered as her finger tips continued to trace across your cheek.

You placed a gentle kiss to the tip of JJ’s fingers when they went to trace your lips. “You have no idea how long I’ve had to deal with waiting for you.” JJ chuckled at that before pressing a soft kiss to your lips. Who knew all it would take to deal with her feelings for you was a poorly made plan to deal with her jealousy on her part, and a well made plan to make her jealous on yours.

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[villainessprefect]

~Tell It to My Heart~

title: Late Night With You

Prompt #2: Ending a phone call with an accidental “love you”

Idia x gn!reader

Read on AO3

Your eyes glide to the clock at the corner of the screen. You watch as the seconds literally tick by and bite back a sigh once you realize how late it's gotten. If the darkness enveloping your room and the main source of light coming from your computer wasn't obvious that it was well past your bedtime.

"It's getting late," you say. It is late, you mentally correct yourself.

"And?" Comes a voice from your headphones. You roll your eyes at his response. "It's not like we're doing anything tomorrow."

"You're not. I am." You fiddle with your mic that's connected to your headset. "Unless if you want to show up to class with me?"

You hear something akin to a huff and can practically feel his eye roll.

"Hard pass. These drop rates are harder than pulling for a limited edition SSR character and we're only given a week to grind for them? An event like this won't get a rerun for at least a year or two. It's now or never."

You shake your head and let out a yawn. Leave it to Idia to find importance in an online game. You don't doubt that he's right, but you're not a hardcore gamer like him. Life calls whether you want it to or not and you have to answer it.

"You make a convincing argument. Think you can get enough for me too?"

"Do you know who you're talking to? When I'm done we'll have enough materials to make a second set of weapons for display," he says with a chuckle.

A smile inches on your face at the sound. A shame that you can't hear it in person. It sounds better compared to the slightly muffled version in your ears.

"Thanks. We still on for Saturday? That's when the drop rates increase, right?"

"Yeah. I'll send you better armor so we can one-shot those raids too."

"Cool." You feel another yawn coming your way and barely manage to hold it back. You rub your eyes and feel a little guilty for not holding much of a conversation. To be fair though, keeping your eyes open isn't easy even with the blaring light of a laptop shining on your face. "Okay, I can't be up much longer. You should be heading to bed soon even if you're not going to show up for class."

"Eh? No way. I can do this all night!"

"I'll message Ortho," you threaten with a grin. Idia falls silent and you can imagine him glancing back to look at his brother. The image makes you chuckle. It wouldn't be the first time you'd manage to get Ortho to get Idia to bed. "Kidding. Anyway, see you later, Idia. Love you."

You pull off your headset and place it on your desk. You log off your account and then the laptop's screen fades to black. A whine escapes you as you're forced to adjust to the sudden darkness.

You stretch your limbs as you stand from your chair. Carefully, you navigate the walk from desk to bed. It's a short path but you don't know what lies hiding in the dark. Thankfully, your mission is successful and you land in bed with a thud.

Grim rolls around beside you, muttering something in his sleep. The monster doesn't wake, surprisingly, and you take a moment to run a hand through his fur. He purrs, getting cozy underneath your touch, and nestles closer to you. Then he mumbles something about tuna.

"Sweet dreams..." You breathe out. With one last yawn, you shut your eyes.

Only to have them shoot open as your body jerks itself upward.

"Oh my god..." You gasp, a hand flying to your mouth. You can feel your cheeks burning, your heart racing a mile a minute.

Did you...Did you really just tell Idia you love him?

You totally did not just do that.

Idia is frozen in his chair with wide eyes. He feels like a cat that's just been spooked as he repeats your goodbye over and over in his mind. Those two little words you uttered could easily OHKO him. And if you were right in front of him, he really would have died on the spot.

Idia pulls his hands off his keyboard to cover his face. His room is enveloped in a soft blue glow that stems from his hair. Now it begins to flash a light pink. His cheeks began to match the new color surrounding him.

"Th-They didn't mean to say that..." He tells himself. "I-It's late and they're just tired. Yeah. Th-That's it. N-No way they'd tell me that. Besides that's not a way they would confess..."

Not that he's thought about you confessing to him. Well, he has. A bit. Okay, more than he's ever willing to admit. And he's not going to go off about how he imagines it happening underneath a cherry blossom tree after school with flowers sparkling around your image.

"They're right, i-it's getting late..." Idia tries to calm his nerves while logging out of his game. His fingers are set on autopilot as your voice echoes in his head.

Even as he finds himself in bed, curling underneath the covers, he can't fall asleep. You are on his mind now more than ever. His heart bounces around his chest, making him feel giddy while his mind fights against it, scolding it and being realistic about your words being a tired mistake.

Regardless of which one wins, he's definitely not going out tomorrow.

Oh. That brings up another problem. Instead of looking forward to playing with you, now he's dreading it.

What the hell is going to happen on Saturday?!

[watermelonlipstick]

Roadside

This is so, SO overdue, but here’s my entry for @huffle-pissed‘s Vibes and Valentines challenge! My prompt was “Kiss me like that and you might regret it.” Thanks in advance for reading; I would love any advice or critiques!

Title: Roadside

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 5741

Summary: At least Sam’s there when the reader’s car breaks down. 

Warnings: smut with only the thinnest premise of fluffy story, dommy Sam

           He was hot—it was hot. The sun alone was nearly enough to make steam come off the blacktop itself, although you were nearly sure you’d heard that was an optical illusion most of the time. This certainly wasn’t; the huge, lean man in front of you, your car popped open behind him like a themed calendar. Sweat had slowly collected through the fabric of his t-shirt, the grey cotton first gaining a stripe down his back that had swelled to some Rorschach test by this point. You were staring when he ducked out from under the hood and had to pull yourself together to look as casual as possible when you realized he had already been talking. “It’s got a small, like, cylinder piece and a handle like a normal wrench?”

           “Oh, ah, sure,” you answered, rifling through the toolbox as quickly as you could to see if anything fitting that description popped out to you. You held up your best guess.

           “Perfect, yeah.” He held a palm out while keeping the other hand in the innards of the car, probably holding something in place. When you gave it to him, your fingers grazed his and you felt an electric shock blazed up your arm. Sliding the wrench in, his forearms rippled with tension under a light sheen of sweat as he cranked. After a few moments he drew back from the car, thoughtlessly dipping a hand under the hem of his t-shirt and lifting it as a makeshift handkerchief to dry his face and mouth. Seeing the taut muscles of his abdomen made you feel a little dizzy, and pulling the jersey against his body draped it almost pornographically off of him, the damp sticking in a way that left so little to the imagination he could have been dunked entirely in water. “Man, it’s hot as hell,” he said. “How long were you out here?”

           “Not that long, it wasn’t so bad.” Not if this was the reward.

           He nodded with an easy smile that showed he wasn’t so sure he believed you. “Well, it should be good now. Do you have a long way to go?”

           “Just to the next exit, my motel’s right off the highway.”

           Only a beat passed as he considered that. “I think maybe I should trail you? Until you get into town. In case this doesn’t hold out.” It startled you enough to pause before giving him a shy grin, and he seemed to mistake it for hesitation. “Or maybe to a gas station or something, not following you back to—”

           “No, no, that’s—that’s fine,” you answered a little too quickly. He smiled back at you, relieved. “Thank you so much, seriously. I don’t even know your name, you must think I’m a total asshole.”

           The dimples on both cheeks got even deeper as he extended his hand to you. “Sam. Don’t worry about it; I’m glad I could help.”

           It was warm as you shook it, as was everything else in the goddamned desert. Firm and gentle at the same time, calluses against the skin of your palm thick without being rough—a conscientious man who worked with his hands. “Then Sam, I feel like I should tell you that you have some grease on your chin.” Both his eyebrows lifted curiously as he tried to swipe blindly at it with also-dirty hands. You reached out, stopping just before touching his arm to stop him. “You’re—wait, hold on, you’re making it worse,” you giggled, the grey-black spot spreading along his jaw. He glanced over to the car, trying to use the reflection in the window to see himself. Rubbing for a couple seconds didn’t seem to help, and he held up a finger for you to wait.

           “I just need one sec and I’ll be ready. Why don’t you fire ‘er up and see if it feels okay to you?”

           You nodded, leaving the drivers’ side door open for some air flow and watching him as he walked back to the huge black muscle car he’d been in when he stopped on the road behind you. Bending down to use the mirror to help himself, he tried in vain to keep rubbing the grease off before seeming to lose patience and yanking his sweat-through shirt over his head, the cotton much more effective than his fingers alone. Your mouth dropped open a touch at the truly spectacular sight of him. His size was remarkable, of course, but it had been with his shirt on too. Without it, you saw that the glimpse of stomach you’d seen wasn’t a fluke; his whole body a model of sculpted, functional muscle, the swelled shoulders of a farmer or construction worker. Wholly masculine even without the dark hair collecting into a narrow stream, pouring down his stomach and dipping underneath a non-ostentatious belt buckle. He moved economically, his limbs showing an understanding of his body in space that felt almost elegant as he cleaned himself up and walked to the trunk, trading his now-balled grey shirt for a clean white one that must’ve been stored there.

           It was a shame, covering that work of art again. At the very least the freshly clothed man that walked back to you could’ve been out of any cologne ad, long lines of his legs in American jeans and boots kicking up desert dirt. You hoped you looked nonchalant by the time he got to you. “How’s it running?”

           “Seems okay, yeah.” You were going for coy but weren’t quite sure you were hitting it, not wanting to seem like a nutjob in front of him—Sam, a perfect name for this ultimate boy-next-door-knight-in-shining-armor, an accessible sense of rock-solidness in the sound itself. His lips split into a brilliant smile at the news.

           “Great! Okay, you ready, or do you want a minute?”

           “I’m all good if you are. I honestly can’t thank you enough, you totally saved me—”

           Sam waved it away. “It’s really nothing. You probably did me a favor, to be honest. My brother usually works on the car, doesn’t give me too many chances to stay sharp.” He smiled at your sheepishness. “So, I’ll just, ah, follow you?”

           And follow you he did. Trying your best to look casual in the event he could see you in the cab, you hunted around in your center console for any toiletries, finding a melted Chapstick that burned your finger when you opened it and a now-mushy stick of deodorant. Whatever cherry wax hadn’t spilled off your hand got rubbed into your lips, and you did your best to inconspicuously fish the deodorant through the neck of your shirt for a few swipes. You didn’t really know what you were even doing it for—Sam was, in all likelihood, going to ensure you weren’t so far from civilization that you’d die of exposure if the car broke down again and drive off to live whatever hot guy life he had, leaving you to fantasize about him in your stupid, scratchy motel bed.

           The drive gave you a second to muster up the courage to bring Sam and his gigantic Chevy to the parking lot of your motel. You reminded yourself you had nothing to lose, that if you didn’t go for it you’d likely never see this guy again anyway, your rejection an entirely private secret. By the time you saw the sign for vacancies, you’d almost convinced yourself it was a good idea, sticking your hand out the open window to wave Sam into the parking lot after you. When you saw his car park, you opened your door before you had a chance to talk yourself out of it.

           He met you about halfway between the vehicles. “Is something wrong?”

           Just an offer, don’t psych yourself out. “It’s really, um, hot. Out here. My AC’s barely cutting it and I’m betting yours isn’t either. I was wondering if you would want to, you know, cool off? Inside?”

           His eyebrows raised as he realized what you were asking, and his mouth formed around a silent word before he started over. “Ah—yeah. Yeah, okay,” he smirked somewhat disbelievingly. “Let me just, uh, lock the car, I guess.”

           You fought the urge to sell past the close and waited for him to return, feeling slightly more confident at the half-skip in his walk as he hurried to the Impala and back. The two of you walked into your room together somewhat awkwardly, standing almost close enough to touch without ever crossing the distance, reminded you were strangers in the middle of the afternoon, without cover of darkness or even a single drink to lubricate.  Inside was cool as promised though, the mechanically chilled air hitting you like a soothing curtain as you walked in. Waiting any longer would make you lose your resolve, so when he closed the door behind him a few seconds later you tried to channel someone extremely sexually confident and pressed the length of yourself up into him so that your lips could meet his.

           He seemed surprised by the force behind your push, pinning his body to the wall with a tiny grunt before seeming to become ravenous, his hands running through your hair desperately as he kissed you hard. Even with it the restraint in his movements was obvious as he curved down to meet you, his frame that much larger, stronger, this close to you. You felt something animal inside you flare at his hunger, and you let your nails run a little harder than you might’ve down his chest before biting his bottom lip, drawing it away from him as he groaned. Breaking away for only a beat to tug the back collar of his t-shirt over his head, you barely had enough time to relish your skin on that which you’d so admired back on the highway ahead of his flipping your positions and hitching below your thighs to pick you up, weight suspended between his arms and the wall. It made you gasp, and you felt Sam’s smirk against your lips. “Nice trick,” you breathed into the space between your mouths.

           “I have better ones,” he murmured, moving along your jaw to kiss-suck at your neck. You believed him entirely, feeling set alight already. A sharp sigh squeaked out when he ground some delicious trigger spot, and your head rolled back on your neck involuntarily. “Ow, fuck—” you snapped as your skull clunked hard against the wallpaper.

           “Shit, I’m sorry,” Sam said, reflexively covering the spot with paradoxical sweetness as his fingers dug beautiful perfect dimples into your ass. “Too rough, my bad—”

           “No, no.” It was too emphatic but you couldn’t be bothered to care. “Rough is good, I’m just clumsy.”

           He smiled, easy and light, letting his forehead tilt to touch yours as he chuckled. The grin was infectious as it spread to you through a brief, remarkably chaste kiss. “And you’re sure you’re okay?”

           You rolled your eyes. “Shut up,” you giggled as he tucked back into your neck, his pelvis tilting under you enough to feel the thick ache of him between your legs, through your jeans. After a minute or two, Sam’s arm behind your head folded somehow to become a seatbelt crossing your back and holding you to him as he walked you both to the bed, ease-dropping you down and ignoring the button and fly of your jeans in favor of shucking them off of you like some kind of cartoon, one incredibly hard pull taking them clean to your ankles as you tried not to shriek. By some miracle of modern elastic, your panties were jostled but still on as he covered your body with his, the heat of his body and the cold air of the room impossible contrast, and his fingers circled your neck. He didn’t apply any real pressure; his thumb rested in the hollow of your neck as he sucked on your tongue, the feeling of being completely overwhelmed almost too much to handle.

           The thumb brushed back and forth as Sam hovered for a moment, his fingers long enough to curl around the collar of your shirt with the same hand. “Off,” he growled simply, the smirk on his lips devilish. You grinned as you obeyed, shimmying out of not only your shirt but everything underneath it too, laying bare beneath him. He kissed you again before sliding down, teeth dragging lightly and stopping to catch tiny nips of skin as he moved to your hips, angling his broad shoulders and fitting through your legs to lick a firm stripe over the only fabric left covering you, the movement an electric shock.

           “I’m probably really—ah, sweaty,” you croaked.

           Sam just smiled, his tongue running along the inside of his molars before he drew it through the joint of your hip, his enthusiasm vibrating through his lips. He slipped then to taste a different kind of salt-tang, the sensation so much smoother than the panties pressed against it. When you began to rock against his glistening face, he took two fingers and turned them to hook confidently inside you, the rhythm of his mouth not changing at all as if this was choreography he’d practiced dozens of times. “Holy shit,” you breathed, grabbing a handful of Sam’s hair out of his eyes as he looked up at you. It was impossible not to squirm, and his other arm wrapped around your thigh like an iron bar, holding you in place while he worked magic before your body spasmed and clenched around him. He rode it out as you rode his jaw, leaving you a twitchy, heaving mess on the motel sheets.

           You caught your breath together, his head resting on your leg. Feeling slightly less jellied, you scooched back on the mattress until you could sit up, watching Sam slink to his knees at the foot of the bed. Swinging yourself around to get over to him, you slid into his mouth deep-dirty, tasting yourself on his lips and sinking as he clutched at your body, pulling you down onto his lap. The still-tender wet ground against his denim and God, could he really be that big zipped through your head while he pawed at your back.  You managed to get hold of the button of his jeans, undoing them as he realized what you were doing and leaned away to help you, his stomach flattening as he flicked them open and you rolled off of him. He rose in his kneel to get at the zipper until you grabbed his hands, stopping him to do it yourself. He got to his feet, about to move to the bed again, but you stayed down, freeing the length of him from the jeans and worn plaid boxers underneath.

           Fat drops of precum gathered on the tip of his cock tasted nearly sweet as they passed your lips, and Sam’s head rolled back. “Fuck, just like that,” he groaned as you took him into your mouth with considerable effort. You tucked an errant piece of hair behind your ear and he reached down, holding the rest back as you bobbed. He was a playground, opportunity to try all the things you’d ever been curious about with the feedback of unconscious pulsing in his hips and the gorgeous, filthy things coming out of his mouth. The end goal had almost slipped your mind completely when the hand in your hair pulled you all the way off of him, Sam looking down at you on your knees. Motel quilt on your back reminded you how close you still were to the foot board and he bent down to kiss you, curling your head back onto the fabric to scoop under your thighs again. You tried to help scramble back to the mattress but weren’t fast enough as he picked you up and put you onto the bed, sucking down your neck as you giggled through the springs bouncing. “Wanted to bend you over the hood of your car out there, you looked so fucking good,” he growled along your throat.

           “Oh yeah?” you breathed, the chills down your spine and the feeling of his body on yours more than enough to distract you from how lame that must’ve sounded.

           Sam didn’t seem to care, grazing his teeth along your pulse. “Couldn’t stop thinking about what you looked like under those clothes—” he paused enough for you to feel the grin against you as he sucked an especially sweet spot and your breath hitched. It might as well have been one of those hypnosis recordings you’d tried a couple times to fall asleep, his low murmuring and movements slowly tugging you under a cloud of pheromone coated endorphins. “Tasting you—seeing your lips around my cock—‘s even better than I thought.”

           You whimpered like a virgin until Sam’s mouth finally caught yours. He rocked crystal-hard against your thigh and a small, hungry note came from the back of his throat when you bit his lip, forcing him to break.

           “Do you have…?” he asked, so close to your face you would’ve been able to count his eyelashes.

           You realized the question required a response at the same time you understood what he was asking. “Ye—yeah, of course. Sorry.” Fishing your arm out from the tangle of your bodies toward the nightstand, you were nowhere close to getting to the little bag of toiletries lying there even as you twisted your torso.

           “Bag?” Sam asked, his arm easily long enough to cover the distance when you nodded. His skin moved across your nipples as he reached, on its own something you would’ve been able to daydream about for months to come. Tanned fingers flicked purposefully through a handful of tampons and tiny bottles before finding a foil package he ripped open with his teeth, the hand disappearing. You felt him nudge against you before he seemed to change his mind, bringing two fingers to into his mouth while the other wound in hair at the back of your neck.

           Sam’s forehead pressed against yours. “Before I get distracted.” The fingers circled before dipping inside at the same time his tongue entered your mouth. You felt remarkably like he was a predator playing with his food without caring one bit. If it had been more elegant, less primal, it could’ve been watching an expert piano player. Within a couple minutes you were clutching for purchase along his chest, his arms, anything to try to hold yourself together as you fell apart. “Look at me,” he said, the hold on your hair tightening a fraction. His eyes were lit from within when you met them, the need in them nearly frenzied as you came spasming around his fingers. “Good girl, just like that.” It was virtually guaranteed your nails would leave marks digging into him. “God, you’re so fucking hot,” he breathed as the heaving of your chest started to even out.  

           He brushed his cock back and forth against you, pausing. “Yeah?” he asked, something gentle there even with the dark hunger in his eyes. You couldn’t remember ever wanting anything more than you did in that moment, squirming toward him as though you physically couldn’t help it. Nodding made him grin, sly and cocky and excited, and he pushed into you.

           It was slow, at first—his quiet, confident self-awareness that you’d need it somehow not coming off like hubris. When you hooked your leg around his hips he started rocking into you, picking up the pace as you threw your head back. Soon he was pulsing fast, forcing you to brace yourself on the headboard behind you with outstretched arms. He curved forward, his teeth catching your neck to pull a groan from it. You couldn’t tell how much time had passed, endorphins suspending you in a frozen limbo you could’ve stayed in forever, when he scooped under your back and picked you up, lifting you as he laid down.

           His deft movements rearranged you like a doll, legs on either side of his waist. You nearly fell forward in surprise but the thick pillar of him kept you supported like a puppet, that much deeper than he’d already been with the added gravity of your body. Each pump skewered into you in the most delicious way; for a brief, flitting second of legible thought you felt you understood how people could feel so overcome they spoke in tongues. Taking each of your hips in the broad span of his hands, Sam began to ram up into you hard and fast, some tilt hitting you just right to fall apart again, your head falling back like you were being raptured. He slowed as you came down, wrapping his arms around you to pull in for a long, filthy kiss. “I could watch you all goddamn day,” he murmured against your skin.

           Again he moved you as you giggled giddily through the compliment, sliding you back on the bed and standing up. He came around the corner of the mattress and seemed to be making good on his promise, his eyes sliding over your body where you laid. Something about it, being seen like that by this glistening Tarzan, with his shining hair and perfect soft-rough balance, made you feel stripped past your skin to your bones, to the very core of yourself. An insane way to feel for a man you’d just met that day, but there you were.

           For what it was worth, the smile Sam gave you in that moment was equally as insane—you were sure then you weren’t imagining the affection there, that there was something just as sparkling in his hazel eyes as there was in the glint of his teeth. He stroked himself for a few seconds, the mere sight of your body a private piece of pornography, before grabbing behind your knees and yanking you down the mattress to where he stood, the backs of your thighs thudding against his and locking in place with his palms. The way he’d pulled you pressed his cock between your legs, as much a taunt as anything, the heat of it feeling like it throbbed against you. He rocked there, taunting with the grind before you drew back and slipped him inside you yourself. Knowing you wanted it that much made Sam bite his lip to keep from smiling too widely. With only a beat or two of buildup, he slammed into you—hands an iron grip on your thighs, pulling you in as much as he thrust forward, the force of it seeming like he could drill you right through the floor and you’d beg him to keep going.

           He took a thumb into his mouth and reached down without missing a single stroke, circling your clit. “You going to cum for me again?” he nearly murmured, low and steady.

           You would’ve done anything then, but more importantly, it seemed like your body had been crafted as a puzzle for him to take apart and would’ve obeyed without your input. He pounded harder, riding you through the inevitable before he came himself, the muscles in his arms and abdomen clenching while his breath got rough.

           The aftershocks had him bracing his weight on stretched, sculpted arms as his breathing evened out before he discreetly shucked the condom into a wastebin and laid down in one relatively fluid motion. If you hadn’t been so thoroughly spent, it might’ve even seemed a little too suave, a little too practiced in its coordination. He sidled up to you, spreading his wingspan in low-pressure invitation for you to lie along his side. It felt—gentlemanly, somehow; the pretense of sex already foregone, the ruse of manners drawn away to reveal a relaxed sincerity you weren’t expecting. It made the inappropriately profound crush you were developing on him worse, the hooks sunk in like ice picks.

           Sliding underneath the arm and resting your head on his chest felt treacherous, but it would’ve been more awkward not to. You half expected him to tip forward and kiss your hair, but the way his fingertips brushed back and forth on your bicep, holding you to him, was just as nice. The two of you laid for a few moments, letting your bodies soak in and the hormones float lazily through your bloodstreams.

           “Thanks for inviting me in,” he said after a few content minutes. His voice sounded like caramel, lilting enough you could hear the smile behind your head. Propping yourself up to your elbows, you grinned back at him.

           “Thanks for coming in,” you answered. He bit his lip, tracing the lines of your face with his eyes for a moment before looking up at the ceiling, letting his smile deepen enough to pull the dimples into his cheeks.

           Bashful silence reminiscent of some middle school dance hung in the air just long enough to start to feel awkward, and Sam cleared his throat. “Do you, maybe, ah, wanna get something to eat?” he asked, only a note off of breezy.

           The smile wiggled around on your face, threatening to beam. “Sure,” you finally answered. “I could eat.”

           He grinned back at you. “Cool. Let me just call my brother, I was supposed to be on my way to see him before you, ah, invited me over.”

           Sam did, politely covering himself with the top sheet as he sat up and grabbed his phone from the pocket of his discarded jeans. He poured into them fluidly like a glass of water filling, tucking the phone under his chin while he threw the button together and stood up. You watched him cross to the bathroom, likely looking for some privacy and throwing you a silent, unnecessary ‘sorry!’ before snatching his shirt off the ground and closing the door behind him. Watching the slink of his spine, the jeans low-slung on his hips, even his bare feet, you were nearly thankful for the physical barrier forcing you to stop staring. You stood on then-coltish legs and tried to pull yourself together as quickly as possible, trying in vain to fix your hair in a tiny compact mirror when Sam came out, throwing his t-shirt on. “Ready to go?”

           “If you are.”

           Walking together across the street was a pleasant kind of silence. Without having to fill the space with words, it the intimacy felt more lived in between the two of you than you might’ve believed if you weren’t experiencing it.

           You probably could’ve guessed he’d open the door for you, but it didn’t make it any less gentlemanly when he did. The heat of his hand was palpable hovering over your lower back but he didn’t outright guide you which was somehow more attractive, although it’s possible anything he did would’ve been attractive at that moment. After ordering, you leaned onto the table to rest your chin in your palms.

           “So, Sam. You always so chivalrous?”

           “Chivalrous?” he asked, the tip of his tongue flicking out to grab his straw.

           “I came three times before you were even inside me.”

           Sam choked on a sip of Coke, his eyebrows raising in shock as he coughed once through it, smirking as he swallowed. “I didn’t know that was chivalrous.”

           You grinned, cheekily pleased you’d managed to surprise him and moving your cup out of the way as you saw the waitress walking over. “What would you call it, then?”

           He kept smiling, dimples staying deep as he said a small ‘thank you’ to the waitress and graciously denied a need for anything else when she asked. When his eyes met yours again, they were coy. “Guess I hadn’t thought about it.”

           Picking up a fry and blowing on it, you rolled your eyes. “Sounds like a yes to me. Is that some pickup artist always-leave-them-wanting-more thing?” It was Sam’s turn to roll his, accepting the teasing as flirtatious as you’d hoped he would. “Or are you some mythical being luring women in on the side of the road?”

           Bedroom eyes looked back at you atop his smile. “If I remember, it was you on the side of the road.”

           “Don’t change the subject,” you said, hoping the heat of flattered embarrassment wasn’t obvious on your face.

           After a few beats he realized you were serious and stretched back in the booth, running a hand over the back of his hair. “I don’t know, it’s less—distracting, maybe? If I don’t, ah, you know, take care of it, I have a hard time not thinking about it.”

           “Take care of it? How romantic,” you laughed.

           “Whatever, you know what I mean. Easier to have fun if everyone is.” He rolled his eyes but seemed to be a good sport about the ribbing, grabbing a fry and biting it in half. “Plus it’s hot.”

           The sly smile he gave made you giggle like a schoolgirl, and he grabbed a few more fries. He really was handsome—gorgeous, even—with high cheekbones and those dimples, his neck the wide-strong of an athlete. You only knew you’d been staring when one of his eyebrows twisted up, silent curiosity of whether something was wrong.

           “So, um, what do you do?” you tried to cover, intently focusing your gaze on picking the next fry.

           Sam swallowed and took a sip of his drink. “I work with my brother.”

           “Same brother you called? Hope I didn’t mess with your job.”

           “No, I—” he grinned, slightly embarrassed at misspeaking. “I mean yeah, same brother. But you didn’t mess with anything. And even if you had, I ah…I wouldn’t have cared.”

           That made you flush and you struggled to think of something clever to say before deciding you couldn’t come up with anything, wishing you could’ve held onto the spunky, raunchy girl you’d been able to put on before you got lost traveling his face. “What do you guys do? Are you from around here?” Stupid, don’t be clingy.

           He swallowed and you worried maybe you had mis-stepped. “Not from around here. We’re, uh, exterminators? Sort of exterminator consultants.”

           “Sexy,” you smirked, enjoying the reappearance of his dimples.

           “Family business, I guess. It’s what my dad did.” He pivoted abruptly, clear but sweet Not Interested In Discussing in his tone. “My guess is you’re not from around here.”

           “Oh really? What gave it away?”

           His eyebrows crooked incredulously. “The motel?”

           You hoped the ‘fuck, right’ didn’t show on your face too clearly, winking as if it was always a joke rather than a chunk of your brain shutting down for how badly you wanted this plate of fries to last forever, to split a milkshake with two straws like teenagers after a sock hop. “Maybe you should be a detective, Mr. Exterminator.”

           He smirked, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

           You’re losing him. “You must get along with your brother pretty well to work together.”

           “Yeah, we—yeah, we really do. We’re a good team, I guess. Makes it a lot easier to be on the road together all the time.”

           His fond smile was reassuring both in the way it seemed like you still had his attention and in the sweetness his being close to his brother showed. “How long have you guys been on the road?”

           “A while. Where are you from? Close to here?”

           You took a sip of your drink to stall. “No, not close really. I’m just passing through.”

           He considered that with a downward turn of his lips. “To where?”

           A deep breath blew out of your nose, continued inability to answer this question one of the recurring frustrations in your life. Something about Sam felt right, though—open, like he would understand—and if he didn’t get it, you probably wouldn’t ever see him again anyway. No harm, no foul. “To nowhere, really. You know, ‘finding myself’ or whatever,” you said, rolling your eyes to show you understood how it sounded and that you thought it was lame too even if secretly, sincerely, it didn’t. ‘Finding yourself’ may have been less accurate than ‘running’, but if you were worried about scaring this guy off by wondering what he did for work, you certainly weren’t going to tell him your whole life story right off the bat.

           Sam looked at the table, slowly rotating his glass with his fingers. “Well if nowhere is ever close by, it would be cool to, ah, see you. Again.” He finally glanced back up when he was done speaking, as though he could handle the aftermath but not the implied question itself.

           The heart thumping in your chest seemed not to remember this guy had already been inside you, ohmygodhelikesme bounding through your bloodstream and drawing a smile across your face like a crisp clean sheet. “I think that could be arranged.”

           You could’ve written a bubblegum pop ballad for those dimples. Sam’s tongue moved along the underside of his molars as he grinned across the table.

           He paid the check without looking at it, leaving a fold of bills on the table and walking you back across the street to the motel room door like he was dropping you off at home after a date on a school night. Standing at the threshold, you struggled with the feeling that you didn’t want him to leave, feeling ridiculously like you were saying goodbye to someone you really knew, not this random hot guy who’d fixed your car and blown your back out.

           “So. See you later?” Sam asked, ruffling the hair at the back of his neck nervously.

           You swallowed and nodded before pressing to your tiptoes and kissing him deeply, slipping your tongue into his mouth and biting his lower lip, dragging it a bit as you stood back. “See you later.”

           Sam smiled with his eyes closed. “Kiss me like that and you might regret it,” he murmured, his hand lingering on your lower back for a beat before dropping.

           “Somehow I doubt that,” you grinned into the heat of him.  

           It would’ve been enough, the memory of the day and the way he took a few steps backward like he couldn’t bear taking his eyes off you even a beat too early. But about fifteen minutes after you got back into your room, your phone went off:

-

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[filthforfriends]

Chapter 1: Checking In

The Sun is the Center of Everything

See Author's Note (CW: addiction)

Word count: 3.5k

Damiano David x Y/n

His family and his friends, mutual and otherwise, made tepid comments about Damiano’s wellbeing. They knew they didn’t have the right to ask anything of you, not anymore.

“Just checking in! I know the breakup was tough.” Tough. The word choice made you outright laugh. It was something you’d say to a child who just lost a football game. I know that was tough, buddy. 

“Hey, checking in, hope you’re doing well.” 

“I wanted to check in and see how you’re doing, y/n.”

“I know I checked in on you earlier, but I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.” I was forced to choose between my sanity and my relationship, but God granted me neither.

“I’m doing fine, all things considered.” “Checking in” was their excuse to call, it was a transition to statements like, “We all miss you alot. Hope we’ll see you soon, sweetheart.” “Well, I’m glad you’re doing well, since I know Damia has been struggling.” “Have you heard from Dami? I was gonna call and ask how he’s doing as well. I heard he’s not coping well.” “You were such a force for good in his life. I think he really needs that.” “I wish I knew how to get Damiano closer to being fine, too.” That last one earned a real life eye roll. At least his friends had the etiquette to feel guilty for dragging you back into it. 

You were certain that your heart couldn’t bear to love someone hellbent on self-destructing. You were certain that Damiano wasn’t going to get sober of his own volition. He’d lose his temper when you’d bring up those two years of not drinking. Articles, books, podcasts, speeches, YouTube videos, TV, movies, therapy, support groups, doctors, even a sobriety coach. You spent more time on resources for his addiction disorder than you did self-care, or hobbies, or some days, even work. Your life revolved around stopping this behavior before he became a tragic stereotype and left a black hole in your life. Damiano’s life revolved around Maneskin’s unrelenting schedule. 

He’d do anything to reclaim his autonomy, but the options were slim. The documents from Sony US hadn’t been translated with nuance and you wondered if that might void some of it. Hoped, really. He’d signed his life away to realize his dream. Now all he could do is show his handlers that they’d bought a faulty machine. In fact, he was self-destructive enough that he’d do it just to spite them. 

The first time Damiano was hospitalized with alcohol poisoning, you found about a dozen ways to reassure yourself that everything wasn’t falling apart. He’d been sober for two years so his tolerance was low. Damiano was probably drinking the same amount. Then you found out it’d been hard alcohol, no mixers. Now the excuses were he didn’t remember when to stop. He had to relearn how to self regulate when drinking. 

Ethan had been the one to call the first time, when they’d managed to contain it. The second it was his head of security, Ronnie. In a totally normal and healthy way, you combed through Twitter for an hour. The knot in your stomach said the news would break and it did. Splashed across tabloids was a haggard looking picture of Dami that you tried to date based on his outfit. Your therapist called your behavior “obsessive,” but followed it up with a surprising amount of empathy.

“Tough love can be equally painful on both sides.” You’d never told her you still loved him. It was obvious. For the first time, carrying around all Damiano’s secrets felt like a burden. You’d never betray his confidence, despite how poisonous he’d been towards the end. SME had you sign a non-disclosure agreement in early 2021. You’d insisted it wasn’t necessary, that there wasn’t enough money in the world to pay you to talk to the press. Sony had simply said, “for now,” prompting Dami’s stereotypically Italian temper to flare.

Ronnie was more concerned with you telling Damiano that he’d relayed this information, clearly against your ex-boyfriend’s wishes. 

“Be honest with me, are you breaching contract by calling me?” There’s a very long sign on the other end of the line.

“Technically, no. He hasn’t taken you off his emergency contacts. I’m more concerned about the disruption it would cause.”

“Disruption?”

“Explosion. Whatever he’s ingesting has made him volatile, constantly on edge. The edge of rage, that is. We’ve stopped hoping for good days and started hoping for some good hours every few days, ideally around showtime or interviews.” 

“Wow, okay. I know he has a temper –”

“He’s never not angry. It's always simmering under the surface.” Through the silence, you can hear the sounds of the hospital. Layers of anxious voices and the constant beeping of some machine.

“You didn’t do this.”

“I know,” you respond automatically.

“Y/n, you didn’t do this. He did this to himself.” Dami had violated boundary after boundary as you set them. He became less recognisable, until he wasn’t the person you fell in love with. Full of creativity, light, good humor, who loved art and comradery more than he did any substance.

“I mean, I don’t think the breakup is why he’s so angry. The depression is probably from the alcohol. That’s actually why I’m calling.” Ronnie has the same tone of voice as those who are “checking in.” “The decision has been made, that he’s going to rehab.”

“Good.” With your back braced against the wall, you slide down onto the floor with relief.

“That decision has been made without Damiano’s consent.”

“Can’t you consult him?”

“No,” Ronnie says firmly. “Addicts aren’t rational.” It was the first time you’d heard someone call Dami an addict. Before now, that word had only existed in your own head.

“I can’t believe it got to this point so quickly.” Your cat, Princess, senses your anxiety and rubs against you. Dami had picked her out as a tiny kitten. When would she start wondering where her dad was? Maybe not yet, he was gone for long stretches of time on tour. Princess doesn’t know he isn’t coming home, and that thought both makes you jealous and sob hysterically. 

“Y/n? Y/n? You still there?”

“Yeah, sorry,” you sniff, eyes burning.

“SME is using the full weight of its influence to force Dami into rehab. He might call you and say anything he can think of to get out of it. Don’t believe him. You can’t trust him right now.” The thought of Dami calling and begging you to fly him home, only to go on a bender makes you sick.

“Should I block his number and Whatsapp?”

“That's up to you.”

“You called to tell me it's up to me?”

“I called you to warn you. So you could steal yourself. So you’d know about it before the tabloids.”

“I suppose now that Dami’s hospitalization is public, someone is also gonna leak that he’s going to rehab. Cover their own asses?” Ronnie falls silent. “You know, going to rehab in privacy would be a fuck load more effective. Let them wonder.”

“I wish they would.” Here was the impasse you always reached. Damiano treated as a doll to be flung around for profit, as if he didn’t have a soul. 

“Fine. Thanks for calling me.” Each time, you tried to tell them not to update you in the future, and each time your tongue refused to form the words.

“Y/n, I have a feeling that something is really not right with him. That it could get much worse before it gets better.” Now, he’s managed to tick you off.

“Ronnie, I tried everything in my goddamn power to keep him from crashing and burning. More than anyone else! I devoted hours to –”

“Y/n, I know.”

“I couldn’t stop him from self-destructing. I tried!” The sound of tears creeps into your voice. “I couldn’t stand to watch it anymore. I don’t know if he was refusing to get better or was unable to, but either way I…tried.”

“No one questions that. I mean that Damiano might need for things to get worse for them to eventually get better. He’s stubborn and short-sighted. I want you to be ready.”

“How much worse?” you whisper.

“He might need to bruise his ass on rock bottom to stop idealizing self-destruction.”

“‘Live fast, die young’ sounds a lot like I’d rather stick it to the man than grow old with you. My ego is bigger than my love for you”

“I don’t know that that’s true, y/n. For some people it's a matter of time before they become addicts when they’re put into this pressure cooker. I’ve seen it before.

“And?”

“Only Damiano can pull himself out of it.”

“So I just wasted my time,” you respond bitterly.

“Showing Damiano how deeply and unequivocally you loved him might save him still.”

“I thought he had to save himself.”

“You’re telling me that after five years he’s not a part of you and vice versa?”

“No.” No, I’m not telling you that, because I know the opposite to be true so viscerally that it has almost destroyed me. The part of Damiano that lay in your heart should be withering in his absence, but it remained very much alive. How do you move on from someone you hadn’t broken up with? The version of Dami that caused you to end it wasn’t truly representative of his character. He was still in there, progressively buried under the rubble of this revolt. The man you loved was unreachable which also made it impossible to move on. Every day he held you in his hellish limbo. 

Damiano did his 30 days. Then 30 hours after discharge, he overdosed in Milan. You started buying a train ticket as soon as you saw Ronnie’s contact on the screen. 

“Is he alive?” 

“Yes, but he’s on a ventilator.”

“God damn it Dami,” you whimper, doubled over and on the verge of screaming into your hand. “What's happening?”

“That's literally all I know. Someone found him in the bathroom of a bougie nightclub and gave him Narcan, thank god. His lips were purple, so…” For a moment Ronnie’s voice is drowned out by a sob. “It’s gonna be messy. The ambulance was photographed.”

“Christ.” This would make international celebrity news. Every asshole who’d typecast Dam after Eurovision would be competing for the most public validation. 

“We don’t think it was intentional.”

“But how bad was it? Like would he think he was gonna die in the moment? Was he alone? How long was he conscious? What – what about organ failure. What if –”

“Y/n, I don’t know,” Ronnie says slowly. “I will call when I have more information.” You’d been on the train for 20 minutes before your phone rang. He was going to be okay. You balled up your coat and screamed, using it as a gag.

“Turns out, to compensate for the hangovers, he’s been doing cocaine.” Never has irony been more painful. “He wasn’t testing his drugs. The coke was laced with fentanyl. Another line might have killed him.” Only then does the possibility that Damiano could end his own life become apparent. It swallows up every other aspect of your reality, until you’re standing in the doorway of his hospital room. 

Thomas’ girlfriend Mia sees you first and runs in for a hug. Ethan and Vic were sleeping in their hotel rooms. Ronnie’s jacket is crumpled in a chair, forgotten after drifting off to sleep probably.

“Hey! Ronnie said you might come, but…” But I’m not Damia’s girlfriend. Perhaps he’d found someone new, and you were encroaching on their territory.

“Shit, I just thought that, um…is he dating –”

“No.” The amount of relief that provided was just evidence of how damaged you were. “He’s been in a coma for almost three hours, lots of good brain activity. He should wake up soon.”

“Coma?” you squeaked. In Tom’s eyes you saw how taxing this new Damiano had been. You weren’t the only one that loved him unconditionally. 

“Yeah.” Thomas rubs his face and sighs. “Fuck. We have so much shit tomorrow.” SME had scheduled a press tour as soon as Damiano was discharged, to make up for lost time. Everything was pushed back because the band couldn’t release something they hadn’t done publicity for.

“I’ll sit with him for a while,” you reassure. Mia helps Tom up out of the chair. After exchanging appropriate greetings, they exit the room, whose door remains open. Now you had to look at him. The ventilator emits rhythmic rushes of air, so your eyes find the source of the sound first. Then you follow the tubing until it enters Damiano. He’s gray, sickly looking like he had COVID again. Surely they already tested for that. 

The concern had been damaging his voice, like the tobacco and weed hadn’t already put his vocal chords on the edge of irreversible harm. How damaging is a plastic tube shoved down your throat? Alcohol caused esophageal cancer and coke eviscerated your sinuses. What would those do to his singing voice? 

You’d refrained from watching his gigs, but now you have the compulsion to find a video of this morning’s interview. It was just the talking portion, no performance. That was Sony’s idea of easing back into the public’s eye. In the thumbnail, he doesn’t look like an addict. Damiano’s skin had aged backwards while in rehab. He was beautiful, pale from so much time in doors, but healthy. The fact that he’d managed so much damage in a matter of hours made you nauseous. 

You sat in the bathroom while the feeling passed. The pale green tiles were cold. Should you leave? You couldn’t even work up the bravery to touch him. But if you left, Dami could wake up alone with a tube down his throat, confused that he wasn’t dead. Meanwhile, the fluorescent lights illuminate details in the reflection of the mirror that you’d prefer not to be made aware of. After pondering some adult acne, you decide that you aren’t the type of person to abandon someone, just because they abandoned you.

Upon exiting the bathroom, you startle the nurse at Damiano’s bedside.

“Geez, I didn’t know you were in there!” She brings a hand to her ample bosom while taking a deep breath.

“Shit, sorry. I was just…having an existential crisis.”

“Ah, so you must be the girlfriend, then.”

“Yep,” you answer automatically. After five years, that response was ingrained into your frontal lobe. This would have been the first time you answered no.

“I’m Maria and I’m gonna be your nurse this morning.”

“Morning?”

“It is…” she checks her smart watch, “5:04. So early morning.” Her chipper tone gives you cognitive dissonance. “I’m just gonna take some blood, just to monitor how his organs are functioning. Unfortunately a tiny amount of fentanyl can wreak havoc.” 

“His organs are failing?”

“No,” she answers firmly, going so far as to round the bed and pat you on the shoulder before putting on latex gloves. “He’s young and it's his first OD. He could bounce back quickly, but a coma is the body's last ditch effort at keeping itself alive. He’s lucky.” She gives you a knowing look. “I can recommend some great treatment programs, now that he officially has his Substance Use Disorder diagnosis.”

“Um.”

“Maybe we’ll tackle that around breakfast time. Now why don’t you hold onto his hand.” She ties a purple tourniquet around his bicep on his left arm while you gingerly take a seat. “Mhm, go ahead,” she permits, completely oblivious to the war raging inside you.

“Does – does it help?” Your left hand quivers, half an inch above his, close enough to feel the heat.  For some reason, you expect Dami’s skin to be cold too, like a corpse. 

“It can be difficult to find a good vein after an overdose.”

“Are his veins damaged?”

“We didn’t find any evidence that he was using intravenously. Unfortunately hypoxia, A.K.A. oxygen deprivation, is a result of –”

“Will he have brain damage?”

“You’ll have to ask the doctor that question.” 

“Does Narcan hurt?”

“No, but he’ll probably have a headache.”

“Does overdosing on fentanyl hurt?”

“It’s heavily sedating.”

“Would he know that he was overdosing?”

“Depends on how experienced of a drug user he is.”

“I’m pretty positive that this is his first overdose.”

“Then probably not.”

“Would he be scared then?”

“You’d have to ask him.”

“Would he be afraid of dying?”

“Honey, hold his hand.” Maria pats you on the shoulder as you finally set your palm against Damiano’s. His skin is warm, as always, and he feels sturdy. The sensation of his hand in yours brings back so many memories that you’re fighting not to drown in them. It's strange, him not responding as you squeeze down. Dam loved to talk about marriage, how the ceremony would go, the reception. You’d debated matching rings. Now you watched the blue line of his heart rate on the beeping monitor.

“Okay, all done,” Maria announced, smoothing adhesive labels over vials of blood. “The doctor will be in shortly and – oh.” She freezes, then presses the call button.

“Is he okay?” Your heart falls from your chest to stomach, out your ass, and lands on the linoleum floor. 

“Yep, looks like he’s coming out of it, actually. Stand up,” Maria requests, pulling on your arm. “Make sure you’re in his line of sight. Waking up on life support can be quite disorienting.” Damiano’s face looks the same, but then his pupils move under his eyelids. You’re the first thing he’ll see and that pressure is impossible to bear. 

“I can’t! I’m so sorry.” You rub your eyes then stand up, grabbing your purse and overnight bag. Maria doesn’t protest. She lets you leave in a flurry of movement and tears, throwing the door open so forcefully that it hits the wall. Once outside of the hospital room, you immediately feel compelled to go back. Dami had never done anything to warrant being left alone at such a pivotal, terrifying moment. You knew with absolute certainty that if the roles were reversed, he’d have never left your side.

“Okay.” You take a deep breath upon re-entering the hospital room, holding Dami’s right hand in both of your own. “Okay, I’m here. What now?” 

“We wait,” Maria answers, as a doctor enters the room. There's the medication given, vitals taken, brain activity analyzed. The waves on the monitor become closer together, then more drastic. Medical personnel may be accustomed to it, but the rapid beeping elevates your anxiety.

“We’re bringing him up out of it gradually, so he doesn’t hurt himself,” narrates a young doctor. “Mr. David will have regained a level of consciousness by now. Probably thinks he’s dreaming.” How would a person not startle while waking up with a tube in their throat? It’d been almost three months since you’d last seen him, but if you thought about it that way, you’d just run. Instead, you imagine that you’re waking Damiano up from a bad dream, even though it was typically the other way around.

“Will he recognize your voice?”

“Of course.” The response comes out defensive when you didn’t intend it to be.

“Talk to him.”

“I…okay.” You lean down, getting closer to his ear. “Dami, it’s y/n. It’s y/n, I’m really here. It's me, baby.” That last word gets stuck in your throat. It’d be so long. How many messages had you missed? He must have tried to contact you.

“I’m sorry, I haven’t answered. I don’t know the right things to say. I don’t know if saying something is the right thing.” Maria and the other nurse in the room are looking at you with a bit of judgment, but the doctor is focused on the monitors.

“Great. That’s great.” You raise a shaky hand to Damiano’s cheek and brush your thumb back and forth.

“As soon as I heard, I got on a train. I still think about you everyday, even more than when we were together. Hopefully you won’t remember any of this, me babbling on. I’d call it pathetic, but you wouldn’t like that.”

“Page whatever respiratory therapist is on call this morning, please. Thank you.” For another couple minutes you wait for improvement, signs that your boyfriend still existed in this body. The doctor is enthralled in what appears to be unchanging information to you, and administers another dose of something. 

“I always thought it was kind of sudden,” you confess. “Damia, if you can hear me, come towards the surface.”

“He can definitely hear you. I’m Dr. Williams, by the way, or just Paul.” The young physician never breaks focus. “Common misconception. If waking up from sleep isn’t instant, why would waking up from a coma be,” he chuckles. Damiano’s hand twitches at the wrist, like a muscle spasm.

“He just moved!”

“Mm-hm.”

“Is everything okay?” Ethan exclaims, having walked in while all your focus was elsewhere. Someone herds him into the hall and closes the door. Then Dami squeezes down on your hand, properly, like he intends to. His eyes flutter and you feel his presence enter the room.

Notes: Chapter 2 posted on Sunday. Let me know if you find this fic interesting/compelling so far. I'll be posting two short chapters a week, word count ranging from 2.9 - 7.3k. Hello to the new members of my taglist!

-XOXO Eden

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[merlyn-bane]

For Foelu snippets stuff (if you're still doing) -- I adored how you handled Obi-Wan's dysphoria in the story. Do you have anything about him getting his implant back or his dysphoria settling or, idk. I just kind of crave some resolution to Obi-Wan's lack of agency over his body and the dysphoria situation. I hope that made sense. Thanks!

So another fill got a little out of hand in terms of the length, whoops 😅😅 Thank you so much for this prompt, it was super interesting to work on, and I really really hope it's everything you wanted @bluemaskedkarma 🥰🥰 Also thank you so much for the compliment, because it really was so important to me that the queer themes inherent to the story were handled respectfully.

This fill does get spicy as a heads up<3

~~~~~~~~

“And have you given more thought regarding what you might like to do regarding your implant?”

Obi-Wan, already part of the way through re-shouldering his tabards under the apparently false assumption that his yearly check-in with the chief healer had reached its natural conclusion, pauses to turn and blink at the woman. “I’m already on an implant, Healer Che.”

“I’m talking about your androgen and enzyme blocker, Obi-Wan,” Che says, flipping through his file again as though she doesn’t know it by heart. “You said yourself that you think Kai-Tal will be done weaning soon, right? Have you thought about what you might like to do when that time comes?”

The thing is, if you had asked him at the start of all this, back when he’d first become pregnant, the answer would have been incredibly easy. He’d have done almost anything just to return to his own self-determined baseline. But it’s been nearly five years, now, with his daughter having just turned four—the Jedi typically ascribed to the notion of allowing the child to lead such things wherever possible, and while she’s been quite contentedly enjoying solids for some time now she’s also been loathe to give up milk entirely and he’d simply been glad that his beloved parasite had at least ceded his nipple once she’d grown teeth. 

He’s had five years to get used to the anatomy he has now, to adjust to the small changes it’s brought about in his day-to-day life. Five years with incredibly supportive partners and the extraordinarily satisfying sex that he has with them, often utilizing aforementioned anatomy. Force knows that producing his own lubricant has been incredibly convenient. 

He’s had five years to make a whole lot of headway on really internalizing that having a cunt does not make him any less of a man than when he doesn’t. 

The question becomes, then, he supposes, whether or not returning to that self-imposed baseline is truly that important to him. And he—doesn’t know. Not for sure. Not yet.

“Take some time to think about it,” Vokara suggests, sensing his indecision. “There’s no timetable here except your own, and you can always change your mind later.”

Obi-Wan ticks up one eyebrow, a touch sardonic. “What, no reminder to make sure I’m only making the decision for myself?”

The chief healer raises a brow right back at him. “I’ve met your partners, Obi-Wan. I seriously doubt they’d let you do anything else.”

~~~

Obi-Wan thinks about it.

And then he…rather forgets to, in-between rearing his daughter and serving on the Council and spending time with his family and teaching classes. Life goes on as it always does, and later he will realize that the ease with which he puts it out of his mind again likely should have been something of a tip-off, but he doesn’t yet.

It isn’t until he catches sight of himself in the ‘fresher mirror one morning some few weeks after the last time he pumps and realizes that his chest is flat once more that it crosses his mind again. He twists to the side just a little further, smiling completely unconsciously at the total lack of rise beneath his undershirt, and Rex must notice because he pauses in brushing his teeth long enough to spit into the sink and lean over to kiss the side of his head.

“You look gorgeous, sweetheart,” the blond offers, grinning before he swats playfully at Obi-Wan’s rear. “Now get movin’ before you’re late for another Council meeting.”

“Excuse me,” Obi-Wan retorts, raising an eyebrow even as warmth blooms in his gut. It only grows when he folds his arms over his chest and finds fewer obstacles in his way. And when there’s every bit as much heat in Rex’s eyes now as there’d been before his breasts had receded. “And who was it, pray tell, that made me late?”

“And I’ll do it again if you don’t move your cute little shebs—”

Obi-Wan dances out of the way of his partner’s grasping hands, huffing and elated and feigning annoyance. “Alright, I’m going—”

Rex reels him in for one last kiss first. “You look good, sweetheart,” he reiterates sincerely, and then he’s knocking their foreheads together gently and hustling him out of the ‘fresher. “Have a good day, I love you, I’ll eat ya’ later.”

Obi-Wan lets out an inelegant snort but lets himself be prodded anyway, and if he’s smiling like a dolt through the rest of the morning, well—that’s his business.

~~~

Being able to fit completely back into his old robes, the way he remembers them fitting is—another sigh of relief.

His body will never be exactly as it was—he is not expecting it to be, nor does he particularly desire it to be, not when he bears the marks he does and perhaps the little bit of extra pudge around his middle through giving life to their daughter—but. He’s really starting to recognize himself in the mirror again, and. It’s…nice.

~~~

The last facet of Obi-Wan’s decision making is perhaps not, he thinks, quite what Healer Che had had in mind when she’d sent him off to consider his options. 

To be fair, it isn’t exactly what he’d had in mind himself, either.

Obi-Wan finds his partners congregated in their bedroom one evening after he drops Kai-Tal off for a sleepover in the créche—not particularly unusual, and really, to be expected with a planned night all to themselves. The surprise comes in when he’s presented with an almost alarmingly elegantly wrapped box by a grinning Waxer and immediately bid to sit down and open it.

“Dare I ask?” he teases dryly, even as he takes it and lets Boil guide him down to sitting on the edge of the bed. He’s tempted to shake the box lightly just for some kind of hint but resists the urge; even just the wrapping looks expensive and he’d hate to accidentally break something.

“It’s nothing we haven’t already talked about, mesh’la,” Waxer assures him, grinning wider. 

“Just took some time to save up for it,” Boil murmurs, piquing his interest—and his apprehension—further. The two of them sit down on either side of him as he finally caves and starts carefully peeling open the paper.

“It’s a strap-on,” Waxer tells him somewhat sheepishly as Obi-Wan blinks down at the mostly phallic-shaped object in the box. “But it’s—supposed to be a real nice one. There’s this piece here that goes inside you, and the lady at the store—I didn’t really understand a lot of the technical stuff, but she said there was some sort of nervous feedback system so you’d actually get some sensation from the shaft, too.”

“We thought something like this would be the best compromise, if you wanted to top without having to go through the process of growing the real thing back,” Boil adds, “like we talked about. It’s totally up to you, of course, but we thought this might give you more options.”

Obi-Wan runs his fingers across the—device carefully, touched. “This must have cost you—”

Cody cuts him off before he can even finish getting the words out. “Do you like it, cyare?”

“Well, yes—”

“Then that’s what matters, mesh’la,” Waxer grins again, and leans in to kiss him softly. “I told you, we saved up for it, and it’s not like we don’t all live in the Temple for free. Besides, any amount of credits would be worth it if something that makes you happy or more comfortable in your own body.” A wicked glint enters his eyes, then. “And this in particular really is just as much for us as it is for you, anyway.”

A few years ago, at the start of their relationship, Obi-Wan may have felt the need to continue pressing the issue. Now, well…he’s learned to take them at their word on things like this, even if he personally feels like they’re spoiling him unnecessarily. Force knows that he enjoys spoiling them, when the opportunity presents itself. “Well when you put it like that,” Obi-Wan drawls, fisting a hand in the fabric of his partner’s shirt and tugging him back in close to lay claim to his smiling mouth. 

~~~

“Aren’t you going to join us?” 

Cody grins, ducking down to kiss Obi-Wan softly. “This was all Waxer and Boil’s idea, cyare. The rest of us are just here to watch this time.”

“You can bet your pretty ass that I’ve already called dibs on the next time though, sweetheart,” Rex winks as he settles down on the sofa they keep across from the bed with Helix and Cody.  Obi-Wan chuckles a little, even as he feels his face flush slightly. Being watched is something he’s always been a little embarrassed to be quite as into as he is, but of course, his partners had figured that proclivity out rather quickly and had hardly hesitated to take advantage. Though he supposes that it is rather convenient that they enjoy watching as much as they do participating, with there being so many of them and but one of him. 

Waxer grins and settles back on his elbows, spreading his legs a little bit. “If you’ll pass me the lube, mesh’la—”

“I’m quite offended that you seem to be under the impression that I’m just going to sit here while you work yourself open for me, my dear,” Obi-Wan sniffs as he leans over to dig the lube out of their bedside table. “Why don’t you get naked for me, darling, and then I’ll finger you myself.”

Waxer’s breath hitches, and Obi-Wan grins wickedly at the rustle of fabric that follows as the other man eagerly obeys. When he turns back around, lube in hand, Waxer’s laying back against the pillows again blessedly nude and holding his knees back and open with his lower lip pulled between his teeth. Obi-Wan scoots forward on his knees until he’s settled between his partner’s thighs, stripping out of his upper layers as he does so. “Hi,” Waxer breathes, and Obi-Wan’s grin widens further. 

“Hello there,” he croons. “Ready?”

“Very, mesh’la.”

“Good.” Obi-Wan slicks fingers up without looking away from Waxer’s face. “I’m going to take good care of you, darling.”

~~~

Obi-Wan takes his time with getting Waxer ready for him, working him open on his fingers until Waxer’s panting and gasping and squirming and pleading for more that Obi-Wan is loathe to give him just yet because he’s just having so much fun doing this. He’d almost forgotten how much he enjoyed taking his partners apart in this way.

“I’m gonna take your pants off now, Ob’ika,” Boil murmurs, plastering himself to Obi-Wan’s back and pressing a kiss to the place where his neck meets his shoulder. “Help you get set up with the strap while you keep playing with Wax, how does that sound?”

Obi-Wan nods, drunk on the rising lust in the Force and each sound he manages to pull from his partner’s lips. Boil kisses his throat one more time and then starts working his pants down his hips.

“Kriff, you’re wet,” Boil groans when his fingers find their way between the Jedi’s thighs, his other hand tightening around Obi-Wan’s hip, and Obi-Wan groans when the tip of one finger dips into his pussy. “That excited to fuck him, are you, Ob’ika?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan gasps out as one finger becomes two, the sound echoed by a drawn-out keen from Waxer. Boil grins against the Jedi’s skin and then his hands are disappearing from Obi-Wan’s skin while he retrieves the strap-on from its box.

“Good,” the former ARC says, “because we can’t wait to watch you do it.”

~~~

Boil is careful to avoid touching the shaft of the toy as much as possible even as he’s fitting it into place, pressing the bulb portion into his cunt until Obi-Wan moans and clenches around it. “There you go,” he murmurs. “We did get you a harness as well, by the way, in case you feel like you’d like the extra support.”

Obi-Wan is touched by the thought, but really, it barely registers. Especially when Boil’s hand does wrap around the shaft of the toy and strokes oh-so-lightly. It sends a shivery sensation up his spine, and Obi-Wan finds himself bucking his hips forward into it and gasping.

“Oh does that feel good, Ob’ika?” Waxer grins, the expression turning sharp with interest when the Jedi nods wordlessly. “Good. Now fuck me with it.”

~~~

The strap is, of course, not quite the same. The sensation is a little duller and a little different than it would be with his own cock, something almost phantom about it.

But the first slide in is still—indescribably good, all tight heat and delicious friction. It’s almost too much, with his cunt full at the same time like it is. He and Waxer both moan as he bottoms out, and Obi-Wan shivers and drops his forehead down to rest against his partner’s sternum as he gives them a moment to adjust. 

“Kriff,” Waxer whines above him, bringing strong legs up to wrap them around Obi-Wan’s waist. “Move, please, mesh’la.”

“As you wish, darling.” Obi-Wan presses a kiss to the skin over Waxer’s sternum and then carefully draws his hips back as far as his partner’s hold will allow, rocking back in slowly as he adjusts to the way the strap feels and moves with him. After a few experimental thrusts he props himself up onto his elbows and leans up to capture Waxer’s mouth with his own, picking up speed and confidence as he goes. After only a few moments more he finds a steady pace that feels good for them both, panting and groaning into each other’s mouths with each smooth thrust in and slow drag out.

Obi-Wan’s eyes snap up at the sound of a shivery moan that doesn’t come from either of them, and feels his hips buck forward out of rhythm all on their own when he sees three sets of dark eyes intensely focused on them. Force, they’re—all stroking themselves, just watching him fuck Waxer into the mattress. Waxer lets out a ragged cry at the hitch in the rhythm, and Obi-Wan is helpless to do little other than to fuck him harder. 

“Gonna come,” Waxer gasps out, and Obi-Wan ducks down to kiss him again as he works to drive them both over the edge.

~~~

“How was that?” Obi-Wan grins as he collapses over onto his back, still breathing heavily. He turns his head over to look at his partner, who’s still staring up at the ceiling and panting just as hard.

“Holy kriff,” Waxer whistles. “So fucking good. Sweet Force.” He turns his head over to look back at Obi-Wan, smiling just as wide. “Good for you, too?”

Obi-Wan reaches over and runs the tip of an index finger along Waxer’s bottom lip. “Exquisite, my dear. Truly.”

“Good,” Boil growls, wrapping a hand around the strap Obi-Wan hasn’t gotten around to removing yet and tearing a ragged cry from his throat. “My turn.”

~~~

In the end, Obi-Wan makes the decision to go back on the enzyme blocker in the interest of avoiding another spontaneous shift, but ultimately decides to skip the androgen—at least for now. He’s comfortable in the body that he’s in, and it serves him well, and he knows that he can always change his mind in the future if that ever stops being the case.

Even though the decision he comes to ultimately is not to take an action, he still finds that he feels more settled for having made it. It feels good, to have made the choice. He wonders if perhaps that isn’t why Che had pushed him to do so, ultimately, rather than letting him dither over it forever even if it would’ve essentially been the same end result physically. Force knows that he probably wouldn’t have appreciated it if Che had pointed it out explicitly how little agency he’s had over his own body in all of this. 

It feels good to take that agency back.

[wosoimagines]

Enough Is Enough - Jessie Fleming/Reader

prompt: R supports Jessie as the news breaks about Canada’s national team.

warnings: none

words: 1057

(Y/N) POV

“It’s bullshit!”

“I know.”

“What do they think is going to happen? I mean it’s a World Cup year and they’re cutting our funding!”

“I know.”

“Can you stop saying that?”

“What do you want me to say, Jessie? It’s sucks. Trust me, I know! Well, maybe I don’t know what it’s like for the team to have such a significant funding cut, but I get fighting for equality against your federation,” I said. I did know what that was like. “And it’s stupid. You guys just won gold at the Olympics! You’re one of the best teams in the world and there isn’t a reason for them to do pull this shit, but they are. And I’m going to be right there supporting you every step of the way.”

“I’m sorry I snapped,” Jessie said. I softly smiled. “I just...”

“You’re stressed. I get it,” I said. I looked up when I heard the door to my room open. I wasn’t too surprised to see Becky coming into the room. “Look, I can guarantee you that every single player on this team will support you guys. You need advice? Ask. Especially with this camp. I’m rooming with Becky.”

“Is that Jessie?” Becky asked. I nodded, causing Becky to move and lean in front of my phone so that her face filled Jessie’s screen rather than mine. “Hi, Baby Canada.”

“When’s everyone going to stop calling me that?”

“Babe, trust me, it’s not going away for a long time. They still call me Baby America, and I haven’t been the newest or youngest to the team for a while.”

“You sure you got my back?”

“Yeah, babe, I’ve got your back. After all, enough is enough.”

Jessie turned her head to look over her shoulder. I glanced over to Becky who was moving over to her bag.

“The rest of the team wants to go out to eat tonight. Vlatko approved of the dinner. We leave in an hour,” Becky explained. Well, that was nice to know. “I think Alex is calling a place right now to make sure they have space for us.”

“Yeah, okay,” I nodded. I glanced back at the phone where Jessie was still distracted. “You know I don’t take too long to get ready. I’ll finish up with Jessie and I’ll get ready.”

Becky nodded before she headed to the bathroom. I could clean up nice if I wanted to, but, honestly, I was totally okay with dressing down and staying comfortable.

I grinned as I looked back at the phone at Jessie who was still distracted. I didn’t bother to say anything to her just yet before she turned back to look at me.

“Hi,” I grinned.

“Hey.”

“Becky’s in the bathroom. We’ve got about an hour before we head out for dinner,” I explained.

“I have to go. That was Sinc. We’re having a meeting,” Jessie said. I nodded at that. “I’ll call you later tonight?”

“We might be out late,” I said as I looked at the watch on my wrist. I knew that some of our players would probably take this as an opportunity to stay out longer so that they could enjoy the Orlando nightlife. “I can call you before bed? To say goodnight?”

“I’d like that,” Jessie said.

“Let me know how the meeting goes if it’s about everything, yeah?” I asked. Jessie nodded and I smiled at that. “And anything you guys need to coordinate, you can talk to me or Sinc has Becky’s number I’m sure.”

“Yeah,” Jessie nodded.

I softly smiled at her one last time.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Jessie ended the call and I sighed as I threw my phone to the side. I hated that Jessie had to go through something like this. It wasn’t fair. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“The shirts were something,” I said as I got closer to the midfielder.

“Well, someone recently mentioned that ‘Enough is enough,’ and it stuck with me,” Jessie said as she smiled at me. “The rest of the girls liked it and it sends a good message. We’re done dealing with the bullshit.”

“You know I’m proud of you, right?”

Jessie nodded as she wrapped her arms around my neck. I wrapped my own around her waist. Jessie must have been more tired than I realized if she was willingly hugging me this long in public.

“You think you could get away for the night?” I asked. I knew that Becky wouldn’t mind if Jessie showed up at our room to stay the night. I just wanted to make sure that Jessie got enough sleep tonight.

“Not tonight,” Jessie shook her head. “I’m rooming with Sinc. There’s no way she’ll let me go when we leave for Nashville tomorrow.”

“Shit,” I softly said. I pulled back from Jessie but moved my right hand from her waist to cup her cheek. “Then, how about you send me your flight information for when you head back to Chelsea and I’ll join you? I’ll call Coach Coombe tonight and tell her not to expect me back at a later date. Family stuff to take care of.”

“(Y/N), no,” Jessie denied as she grabbed a hold of my wrist. “You have to go join Angel City. You have preseason training. Your season starts next month.”

“And you are my family. You’re suffering. Coach can deal without me in preseason training for a week or two,” I softly assured Jessie. I knew that she would still be hesitant to let me join her. “If you don’t give me your flight information, then I’ll just book my own flight. You gave me a key to your place, so you can’t threaten to keep me locked out.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Okay, I don’t. But I hate it when you do that.”

“Make sure that you’re looked after? Jessie, you’re exhausted. Let me treat you right when we get to Chelsea,” I said as I pulled her back into a hug. “A hot bath as soon as we get to your place sounds really nice. Maybe we can cook together. I’ve missed getting to cook with you. It’s rather lonely when I do it by myself.”

“Mmmmm. That does sound nice.”

“So, we get through this tournament, and we go back to England together. Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

[addisonstars]

"got you wrapped around my scarf"

written for day 4 of december for @wolfstarmicrofic with the prompt "scarf" and a total of 644 words

leaning on the more mature side for sexually explicit content!

Marlene was throwing a Christmas party tonight, and the theme was ugly sweaters. Sirius had the idea to wear matching Christmas sweaters. Matching ones for couples and he was ecstatic to see the look on Remus’ face when he put two and two together. 

Sirius had a sweater with “I’m so good, Santa came twice.” 

 Remus’ sweater just said “Santa.”

Remus came out of their bedroom, wearing his sweater, a santa hat, and it looked like he had even smeared glitter across his eyelids. He came over to Sirius, who was sitting on the couch reading the latest magazine. 

Sirius was wearing his sweater, a red-and-green striped scarf and had put some eyeliner on, like usual. Remus sat down and read Sirius’ sweater, “I’m so good Santa came twi…” He trailed off after he realized their meanings. “Sirius!” He exclaimed, playfully sounding irritating with him. 

Laughing, Sirius pulled the scarf off his neck, lopped it around Moony’s and pulled the ends of the scarf in, pulling Moony into a kiss. Moony lurched forward, hips bumping together when their lips met together. 

Remus let out a gasp, caught by surprise. He quickly adjusted, taking some sort of control and bringing his hands up to cup Sirius’ face and lightly stroke the other boy's cheek with his thumb. He pressed a little harder, moving his tongue into Sirius' mouth. They danced a dance they have a thousand times before, moving together as one. 

Dropping the scarf, Sirius moved his hands into Moony's hair. He intertwined his fingers in the taller boys' golden curls, loving the way they felt against his fingers. Remus shifted forward a bit, grinding his thigh against Sirius. It was too easy in this position. Sirius mewled, gripping his fingers tighter in Remus’ hair. 

Remus could only smile against Sirius’ lips. Sirius took the smile as an invitation to bite, and Remus would be lying if he said that he didn’t want Sirius to do it again. Sirius could taste the vanilla chapstick that Remus uses, and he wanted to kiss it all off of him only to make him reapply to do it again. 

“Remus,” Sirius whispers. He shivers when his hands move from his face to his neck, slipping onto his shoulders and dipping just below his shirt. His fingers brush his collarbones, and Sirius has to resist the desire not to take him right there. “I want to,” he gasped for breath again and Remus shifted forward once again, flushing their bodies together, leaving no inch of flesh untouched. Sirius was pushed back onto the arm of the couch, he couldn’t go back any farther. “But-” 

He shut up as Remus slipped his hand around and down, then moved his hand up Sirius’ shirt. He kept climbing and climbing, and Moony reached Sirius’ nipple, which he took his time brushing and tweaking. 

“But what?” He leaned away for just seconds at time to talk. “The party? Everyones going to be late anyways.” That was true, and it didn’t start for another 30 minutes. 

Remus moved those nimble digits of his once again, down to palm Sirius through his pants. Sirius arched his back up off the arm of the couch; he came alive at the touch. Remus didn’t stop, he kept on massaging Sirius through his pants. 

His ministrations finally sent Sirius over the edge. He came saying Remus’s name, back arching higher off the surface, eyes rolling to the back of his head. Remus smiled, kissing Sirius after he returned to reality. 

“One more time and we’ll have to switch sweaters,” Remus smirked. And he returned his hand to the now aching spot, but this time Remus pulled down the pants enough to have enough access to make skin to skin contact with Sirius. 

***

Surprisingly, they showed up to the party only half an hour later. 

They switched sweaters. 

I GOT CARRIED AWAY I SWEAR BUT ENJOY MY LOVES

-a.s.

[bestkage]

“Don’t trust me.” for the prompt game!

prompt game!

“So, uh, Mr. Blue Spirit guy– or girl–“

Zuko represses a heavy sigh threatening to escape lungs, swallows it as he throws another glance around the dark corner.

If he had known saving the water tribe boy from the Dai Li he was tailing would result in one-sided casual small talk and unfunny quips every other minute, he would’ve left him where he’d found him like a tarnished coin stuck to a wad of chewing gum.

Alas, leaving him would’ve done more harm than good in Zuko’s kinda-sorta grand scheme of things. Even if the grand scheme was only comprised of “get dressed”, “sneak out”, and “follow”. Leaving behind the water tribe boy would spark vigilantism in the Avatar and Zuko had no doubt he’d find Zuko and his uncle in the outer city walls.

“I have two things to say and I promise I’ll shut up.” The water tribe boy says. Zuko feels a vein near his temple twitch and he doesn’t bother turning his head to look at the other boy, keeps his gaze down the alley even though the coast has been clear for a good two minutes. His silence does nothing to deter the water tribe boy. “One, thank you for getting me out of that whole thing back there. I totally could’ve taken them all myself but I…left my weapon.”

Zuko can hear the petulant disappointment in the boy’s voice and good. Why a friend of the Avatar would leave without his weapon is a great question.

“Two, do you think you could uh…maybe let go of my hand now?“

Zuko feels heat crowd to visage as he realizes that he- in fact -is still holding the boy’s hand. He drops it like it’s burning to the touch even though the only thing he can feel burning is him.

“Okay, and secret third thing-“

Zuko audibly groans this time.

“Can I just say how cool it is to be here with the Blue Spirit. I thought you were a myth and that Aang was making you up. Aang’s the Avatar, just so you know. Like, the name of the Avatar. His name is Aang. Anyway, you’re like, a legend. A hero in the night and all. Not that I’m a fan or anything but I think that’s pretty cool. Can I actually get you to sign my-“

Zuko turns to look at him this time and it freezes the boy where he was reaching into his ridiculous satchel to grab something for Zuko to supposedly sign.

They share a beat of awkward silence and Zuko can’t help the way his fingers twitch in agitation.

The boy’s cheeks darken and he holds his hand up in surrender.

“Okay, sure, I get it. Not the time.” He says and Zuko’s only slightly amused at the embarrassment in his voice. Slightly. “So uh, is the coast like, clear and all?”

Zuko peers back around the corner. It’s as clear as it was five minutes ago so he gives a small nod. As if his judgement wasn’t enough, the boy peers comically around the corner, big head and prominent ears showing themselves in a way that’s so far from discreet that Zuko’s sort of glad he’d held the boy tethered to his hand his entire time.

“Oh. Okay. Cool.” The boy says, stepping around the corner and Zuko lets himself only slightly relax. He is in the presence of an enemy after all. Even if the enemy is bashfully kicking his foot in the gravel like a freshly rescued damsel in distress getting ready to confess their love. “So I guess this is it.”

Zuko nods again and finds himself captured by some awkward force lingering in the air.

The boy is still standing there, idle only in body but eyes darting as if he still has something to say.

“One day, I’ll return the favor.”

For some reason, that shocks Zuko and now he’s the one idling awkwardly.

Zuko’s “saved” a good bit of people that either were in the way of his plans or didn’t necessarily get in the way of them either but this is the first time he’s gotten something other than gratitude from the act.

He supposes that repaying the “legendary” Blue Spirit isn’t the most formidable thing that can be done since the water tribe boy is quite literally a companion of the 112 year old Avatar.

It’s a pact. One made with the most unlikely of candidates.

And it’s honorable.

Something Zuko lacks.

So as the boy gives a final gesture of his hand in a goodbye, Zuko finds himself stuck in the dark corner of the alleyway and the only thing that crosses his mind is,

“Don’t trust me.”

Because the next time Zuko dons the Blue Spirit disguise, he can’t guarantee that he’ll be saving the boy.

He may be striking him down and watching betrayal cloud blue eyes.

[acidxinxwonderland]

Resurgence

Chapter two: Reconcile

18 plus!

Pairing: Glamrock Freddy x F!Reader

Summary: You live a stressful life to say the least, working two jobs and going to college is no easy task. You find it hard maintaining many things, such as friendships, your home and most importantly yourself. Yet after finding boxes full of parts for an animatronic near a dumpster, you do everything in your power to restore him. Little did you know that he was going to change your life for the better.

Tags: Female Reader, No use of y/n, Size Difference, Size Kink, Robot/Human Relationships, Dominant Glamrock Freddy, Submissive Reader, Touch-Starved, Reader is a hot mess, nicotine addiction, Eventual Smut, Slow Burn-ish, Build a penis, Readers parents have passed away

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: All the chapters aren't going to be words that start with the letter R, I promise LOL. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! I've been really trying to improve my writing and I hope it shows :DD

AO3 link

Chapter 1

The pale light of the sun rising filters through your windows, a soft groan escaping your lips as the sound of a blaring alarm clock hits your ears. You blink awake, eyes heavy with sleepiness as you reach your hand over to your bedside table, blindly grasping at the air until you find your phone.

You bring it close to your face, barely able to make anything out through your blurry vision as you turn it off. You reluctantly sit up, fatigue has a complete hold of you, moving your feet off the side of the bed as if you were in slow motion.

You muster the strength to stand up, nearly tripping over your discarded pants from last night while stumbling over to the door. You slowly descend down the stairs, rubbing at your eyes as you go to make a b line for the kitchen yet you stop in place from the smell of food in the air.

That’s right, you have a new buddy.

You see the animatronic bear at the stove with his back turned towards you, the sweet melody of his humming finally hitting your ears. He dwarfs everything around him, practically a giant in your own home yet at this very moment he seemed nothing more than peaceful. The golden rays seeping through the half-closed curtains hit him just right, it was memorizing.

So memorizing you forgot you weren’t wearing any pants for a moment. You look down at yourself, realizing you should probably go upstairs and put something on. Just as you’re about to make your grand escape Freddy looks back at you.

“Superstar!” He exclaims in a cheerful tone, spinning around to face you. “Good morning-” His voice abruptly trails off as his gaze locks onto your lower half. “Oh! You are… You are not wearing pants.”

Heat rises up to your face at a breakneck speed, never have you wanted to run away from your own home until now. You force your lips up into an awkward smile, fingers unconsciously finding their way to scratch the back of your neck.

“S-sorry about that, I totally forgot that you’re here now… Living with me.” You trail off, looking anywhere but his face.

“There is no need to apologize, you are in the comfort of your own home. I’m sure this is a very common practice among you humans.” He was talking as if you were some alien. The absurdity prompts a chuckle to escape from your lips.

“I guess you could say that.” You finally bring your eyes back to him yet his gaze is fixated on your bare legs. You are a bit taken aback, furrowing your brows until chalking it off as just his curiosity, you’re sure he’s never seen someone just wearing underwear before.

His optics finally meet yours, with a small twitch of his ears he hastily turns, reaching for a plate in the cupboard.

“I have made you something called ‘corned beef hash’, I found the can and thought perhaps this would be good enough for breakfast.” He scoops the food onto the plate carefully, facing back towards you, extending the plate with a slightly awkward motion.

You offer him a grateful smile, taking a step forward to take the plate from his hand. “Thank you Freddy, I’m going to eat this upstairs, don’t have much time before my class.”

“Completely understandable, perhaps you should try to get more rest afterwards? It will be beneficial!” He suggests with a hint of concern.

You give a short nod of your head. “Yeah, okay. A short nap, I’ll see you later then!”

With that you part ways with the animatronic bear, feeling both grateful and embarrassed at the same time as you retreat back to your room to begin your class.

During the entire lecture you fought the constant battle of keeping your eyelids from sliding shut, the minutes seemed to stretch on for hours as your focus continued to wane. Yet there was still a strong determination in you, one that made you want to stay on top of your studies. You soldier on with every key-stroke and hurried note taking.

As soon as your class is finished you immediately go back to your bed, as you get underneath the blankets it almost feels like a comforting embrace, easily slipping into the sweet security of sleep. It was as if you blinked, opening your eyes again to feel a sense of rejuvenation. Getting up you prepare yourself for the rest of the day, ensuring that you have pants on this time.

Walking back downstairs with a relaxed look on your face you find Freddy doing a task once again, bending over the coffee table and carefully placing trash into a bag. He looks over at you with kind eyes, straightening himself out.

“Hello! You seem to be feeling much better.” He observes, setting the trash bag near the coffee table.

“Yeah, I am. And it seems like you’ve been keeping yourself busy.” You gesture towards the trash bag, he looks down at it for a moment as if he forgot what he was just doing before replying.

“I sure have! There is much to do here, it is always good to get started as soon as possible.”

“Well thank you. This is… Nice.” Your appreciation was evident in your tone.

“Of course superstar! ‘Nice’ sums it up well. Now, do you have any plans today?”

You let out a small hum of thought, looking off to the side, you had more free time now that Freddy was here albeit not much. You have gotten used to going straight to work on him as soon as you have time spare. You actually had the entire day off now! You could do anything your heart desires, like sitting on the couch and watching some fun movies with a nice beer.

However, once your gaze returns to Freddy, a new and exciting idea pops up in your mind. It has been half a year since you’ve last actually hung out with some old friends.

“I mean… I could take you out to see one of my friends?” You suggest, watching Freddy’s curiosity pique.

He tilts his head to the side. “A friend? That sounds quite fun!”

“Hell yeah it does, the look on his face when he sees you…” You chuckle to yourself at the thought.

One of your best friends, Aidan, thought that re-building Freddy would be impossible, he droned on and on about it the entire way back home when you first found him. You told yourself during that very moment you were going to prove him wrong and rub it in your face. Here is your opportunity.

“Let’s get going then.” You declare with a mischievous glint in your eyes, making your way to the door and grabbing your keys from the hook on the wall.

“We’re going now?” Freddy’s tone was quizzical as he follows after you. “What about lunch? It is almost 2 PM.”

“Lunch can wait big guy.” You open the door, leading him towards your van parked in your driveway.

You pause once the heavy steps behind you come to a halt. You turn to find him gazing upwards, captivated by the beauty of the world.

“This is…” He trails off while staring up at the expanse of the clear blue sky adorned with fluffy white clouds.

You feel your heart flutter from the sight, a warmth rushing throughout your body. “It’s a lot different during the day, huh?”

Freddy brings his attention back down to you, nodding his head. “Yes it truly is. It is all so… Marvelous.” He was silent for a brief moment afterwards and you can hear the sounds of his gears inside of him becoming faster as if he was trying to process it all. “I apologize, let us get a move on, shall we?”

“There’s no need to be sorry, soak it all in. It’s um… It’s nice, seeing you experience this stuff.” You feel a bit awkward to admit it as you continue the walk over to your van.

“Is that so? Well I’m glad to hear it.” He lets out a mechanicalized hum, a twinge of amusement in his tone.

With a brisk nod, you open the door to the passengers side. Your van was sizable, and though you’re aware fitting him inside might prove a challenge, you are undeterred. He halts for a moment, eyes sweeping across the interior of your vehicle. Eventually, he eases himself inside with cautious movements. The door clicks shut as you round the van, claiming your seat on the driver's side.

Having Freddy inside causes the space to be quite snug, you could work with it though. You slide your seatbelt across your body, securing it with the sound of a click. Freddy attempts to copy you but alas his torso was too large to put it on, his ear twitches at that fact, looking at you for guidance.

A chuckle escapes your lips as you initiate the ignition, the engine’s hum filling the space of the van. “Don’t worry about it,” you assure him. “It’s a short drive.” The challenge now shifts to avoiding any encounters with law enforcement; you had no idea how a police officer would react to an animatronic bear riding shotgun. Despite your research to ensure there were no legal repercussions for repairing him, the sight of Freddy might be a bit unsettling for anyone to see at the moment.

Freddy’s curiosity is piqued the moment the van’s engine roars to life, blue eyes flitting from one detail to another with wonderment behind his gaze. You observe his fingers dancing over the vents before him, opening it and closing it only to flinch once the cool air of the AC kicks in.

“Motor vehicles are quite interesting.” He muses, his attention shifting to a button on the dashboard. With a press, loud music floods in through the speakers, once again startling the bear. Your laughter rings out, quickly turning the music down to make it more bearable for him.

“Careful there, you’re going to hit the eject button.” You playfully quip, a grin lighting up your features as you press down on the gas and drive down your winding gravel driveway.

“An… An eject button? As in one that will kick me out of the motor vehicle?” There was genuine concern in both his face and words, seeking clarification from you.

Suppressing a laugh, you meet his gaze with a mischievous glint in your eyes, pulling out onto the road. “Nah, not really.” A widening grin forms on your lips from the satisfaction of tricking him. “Can’t believe you fell for that.”

Freddy lets out a simulated huff, his gaze shifting to the window beside him. “Well, forgive me for believing in the information my supposed guide to the outside world provides.” He retorts, his tone carrying a hint of playfulness.

You let out an amused chuckle, glancing his way. “Touché Freddy. But rest assured, I promise not to send you flying out of my truck.”

“Good to know, as I’d prefer to stay grounded.”

With that the two of you fell silent as the miles rolled by, Freddy’s eyes were glued to the passing scenery going by as soft music played in the background while you puffed on the end of a cigarette. It was peaceful, a moment you didn’t want to end, there was no better company than with another you can sit in comfortable silence in.

Yet before you know it you are pulling into the driveway of your friend's home. Now that you are here you feel a nervousness bubbling up from your stomach to your throat, you didn’t even tell him about your arrival, not to mention the fact you barely even spoke to him in quite a long time. You stay in place staring at the front door, feeling the need to pull out and drive away.

“Superstar?” Freddy pulls you from your racing thoughts, as soon as your eyes meet his kind ones you feel that heavy weight dissipating.

“Sorry.” You murmur, unbuckling your seatbelt and shutting off the engine. “I should probably warn you he might be a bit… Shocked seeing you.”

“Shocked? Isn’t he aware you repaired me?” He held a quizzical tone.

“Um well… No, he has no idea we’re coming to visit. If it wasn’t obvious by my last minute decision to visit him.” You give the bear a sheepish smile, scratching at the back of your neck.

“Oh I see well that will be no problem! I am known for being quite lovable to children and grown adults alike.”

“That’s very true, let’s get in there and show him how cool you are.” You open the door and Freddy follows suit, getting out of the van together and making your way up to the door.

You steel your nerves, a determined look coming across your face as you knock on the door. You take a step back, taking in a slow deep breath in an attempt to calm your racing heart. You watch as the door knob is turned, swinging open to reveal none other than one of your closet friends. A tall, young man with disheveled brown hair and dull green eyes.

He was taken aback by your sudden arrival, although when his gaze finally landed upon Freddy his eyes widened like saucers. “Oh… Oh my god.” He sputters out, looking back and forth between the two of you.

The anxiety you once had was replaced by sheer giddiness, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “That’s fucking right, I rebuilt him, me. And who said I couldn’t huh?”

There was clear defeat on his expression, giving a roll of his eyes. “I said you couldn’t… Me…”

Freddy lets out a short chuckle, taking a step forward. “Although I do not appreciate the foul language, I am proud to say that I am in tip top condition.” He extends his large paw-like hand towards Aidan with a kind look in his eyes. “I am Freddy Fazbear, it is nice to meet you.”

Aidan stares up at him, memorized by the giant animatronic bear as he shakes his hand. “Yeah, I know who you are. I’m Aidan. I… I can’t believe you’re actually here.”

“I can’t believe it either, or that I was even offline in the first place.” Freddy looks over at you, underlying affection in his gaze. “Yet you didn’t give up on me once, did you?”

You feel heat rise up to your cheeks. “I sure didn’t.”

“Of course you didn’t, because you are a wonderful friend.” Freddy’s sweet words make your cheeks only grow darker in color.

“Wonderful friend, huh?” Aidan raises a brow, his eyes zoning in on you. “Yeah, we can go with that.” He turns around, gesturing for the two of you to follow.

“Do you not agree?” Freddy asks, entering his home that was much cleaner compared to yours.

“Well… She has her moments.” Aidan shrugs his shoulders as you all go into the living room. “But there are times where I barely hear a word from her, like the past six months.”

You feel a twinge of guilt in your heart, your expression faltering. “I know… I’m sorry Aidan I-”

“It’s fine.” He cuts you off, although it doesn’t feel fine. “Let’s not argue over this right now, not in front of Freddy. We can talk about it another time, with Eve and Nicole.”

You shift your weight from one side to the other, what were you thinking? Showing up unannounced like this after barely speaking to your best friends. It was inconsiderate of you and you hate the fact you’re realizing that now. You look up at Freddy, who can clearly tell the thick tension in the room.

“If you two need to talk about your problems, I have no issue with it.” The bear finally says, looking back at you with a soft expression. “I can wait in another room if need be. Communication is always important when it comes to a healthy friendship.”

Aidan is silent for a moment before a sigh falls from his lips. “No, no. There’s no need, I was being a dick.” He offers you a smile, settling down onto his large L-shaped couch and patting the spot besides him. “It can be hard to remind myself that you’re working through some things honestly. I just miss you, you know?”

You return the smile, one with gratitude. You sit next to him, feeling a sense of relief as you lean back into the familiar couch. “I miss you too, and I am really sorry. I’m the dick here, and I would like to talk about it, with all four of us together. You’re allowed to be as angry as you want.”

“I do feel… A bit mad.” Aidan says truthfully. “But not as much as when I finally saw you again.” He reaches his hand out to touch your shoulder, as your muscles tense together he stops himself, letting it fall back besides him.

You let out a small, shaky sigh. “Well, I’m glad to hear that.”

“Look at that!” Freddy chimes in. “You both handled that situation wonderfully, I am quite impressed.”

“Thanks Freddy.” Aidan’s grin widened with amusement. "It’s nice to actually have you here. Although… It is a bit weird.”

“I understand, it is ‘weird’ for me too. Not being in the Mega Pizzaplex… It is liberating yet strange all at once.” His eyes look around the room before falling back on to the two of you. “Now that we have that settled, would you like me to make you both something to eat?”

“Oh, um…” Aidan seems surprised by the kind gesture, shaking his head. “There’s no need. If anything, I kinda just want to get to know you.”

“Get to know me?” Freddy repeats. “That is kind of you, although I do not know how interesting it would be for you.”

“Psh, nonsense. You are literally a giant animatronic bear, what is there not to be interested in? Come on, take a seat Fredster.” He gestures towards the L-shape of the couch.

Freddy nods his head, although he almost seems cautious as he takes a seat, did Aidan throw him off by saying he wanted to get to know him? Although once the three of you began to engage in conversation you observed his easing tension.

You all spent a good amount of time conversing with one another, explaining to Aidan what happened when you brought Freddy back online and how he doesn’t remember what happened before the Mega Pizzaplex’s collapse. Before you know it the sun is beginning to set, you say your goodbyes to your dear friend, feeling a sense of relief that you were able to break the barrier and see him once again.

Taking the short journey back home the two of you enjoy the sky painted with hues of orange and gold, a serene conclusion to your day out with Freddy. Yet once you bring the van to a halt at a stop sign another vehicle pulls up beside you. Nervousness immediately courses through you, only to be amplified upon seeing the driver’s shocked expression. The driver raises his phone and you instinctively shield your face in an attempt to hide your identity.

The instant the stoplight switches to green, you take a left turn down the road. Your anxiety begins to spiral, clutching onto the steering wheel.

“Did that man just take a photo of me?” He inquires.

“Yeah, he sure did.” You let out a sigh. “Just what I needed.” It’s only your second day with Freddy, and already it feels like you’ve screwed things up.

“Is there something wrong with that?” Freddy’s curiosity laces his question.

“Well, I mean, kinda. I wasn’t really ready for people to know you’re back yet.” Your heart sinks to your stomach from the thought of unwanted attention..

“I understand that you wanted to wait on something like this, but perhaps it would be better to ‘rip the bandaid off’, as they say. Besides, you hid your face, correct?” His logic brings you a smidgen of comfort.

You give a nod of your head. “Yeah… I did.”

“That means that they only know that I am back, there is nothing linked to you yet.”

He wasn’t wrong, yet your heart still aches with the burden of the situation. You had to be more careful, just for a bit longer. You know Freddy doesn’t deserve being locked away inside of your home like some house cat, that wasn’t fair to him, even if he didn’t really care, you do.

“You’re right Freddy. Thanks.”

“Of course superstar, I assure you, everything will work out one way or another.”

The two of you drive back home in silence, you try your best to remind yourself that it was going to be okay but there was a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. The path ahead is uncertain, yet you try your best to hold onto the hope of everything being okay.

[nobedofroses]

December 28th

pairing: Joel Miller x reader

warnings: a little angsty and then fluffy!

words: 1.7k

a/n: sad reader and then happy bc of Joel! lonely/kisses/first dates prompt from @toomanystoriessolittletime's winter writing challenge ❄️

more Joel, Full List

🌨️🌨️🌨️

In the ten days or so since you had given Joel your number, the holidays had passed and you had been in a bit of a slump in the gap before New Year’s. Joel hadn’t called, well he had but you hadn’t talked to him. He called while you were at work one day and had to leave a voicemail explaining that he was really trying to find a sitter, but with everything going, none of his usuals were available and his brother wasn’t around either. You knew he was telling you the truth, but it didn’t help that you didn’t see him and Sarah at the normal story time since the bookstore was closed last Saturday. 

Christmas was never quite what you hoped for because of family drama and friends being out of town with their families. It left you alone most of the time since the owners of the bookstore liked to close for more than just the holiday to give staff a chance to recuperate after the busiest time of the year. 

With no reason to leave your apartment and your roommates gone, the only people you saw were the ones walking on the street you could see from your window. The overcast skies but lack of snow made you feel even more lethargic and you whiled away most of your time laying on your bed and staring out the window. 

You were doing that, but on your couch one mid morning when you were startled out of your daze by your phone ringing. It took you a second to realize what was happening, so you had to rush over and grab it off the hook before the last ring. 

“Hello?” you asked, cringing at how you sounded out of breath. 

“Hey, it’s Joel,” came his nice, low voice and your mood suddenly improved. 

“Hi,” was all you could think to say, forgetting that the adoring look on your face couldn’t stand in for words if you were on the phone. 

Joel’s warm chuckle came across the line and you felt your cheeks get warm, “Hi. Listen, I know it’s incredibly late notice, but my brother has decided that today is his day to be magnanimous and has offered to babysit. If… you still wanna go on that date?” 

Something in your chest pulled at his hesitance and you looked at the clock, thinking that if you went to dinner you’d have plenty of time to pull yourself out of this funk, “What time were you thinking?” 

“Well, that’s the other thing. Tommy has to be somewhere, actually has to be there at 6:00. So anytime between now and about 5:30 I’m all yours, dependin’ on where in town you live,'' Joel explained, and even him calling himself “all yours” wasn’t enough to keep your stomach from sinking. 

“Oh, well I— I wasn’t planning on leaving my apartment so soon, I’m not— I’m not really ready for the day yet,” you admitted, hoping he wouldn’t judge you for just laying around when he was surely always on the go with a five year old and a full time job. But you hastened to add, “I do, um, really want to see you though.” 

“Me too, and there’s no pressure to do anything fancy. We can just talk and spend time… if you don’t want to leave your place at all I could always… come over?” 

Surprisingly, the idea of him coming to your apartment felt better than leaving. It wasn’t messy; you didn’t really make any mess when all you did was sit on the couch. And all you would have to do is put on clean comfy clothes and wrangle your hair a bit and you’d be totally presentable. 

“Okay, yeah. Yeah, I’d like it if you came over,” you told him, and a few minutes later, he was hanging up so he could get Sarah settled with Tommy and on his way. 

You knew you had about half an hour before he got there and decided to double check that nothing needed cleaning. After a few dishes were added to your dishwasher, a few blankets folded on the couch, and putting on fresh clothes, all you had to do was wait. 

Then you wondered if you should be making anything, if you had any food or anything to offer Joel once he got there. You checked your fridge and found some apples and your cupboards and found peanut butter and cookies. It was better than nothing, you supposed. You spent the next little bit cutting the apples and plating everything, and then found a couple sodas tucked away in a cupboard and put them in the fridge to chill. You didn’t even know if he liked soda. Everything you had seemed like for a kid and you smiled at the irony that Sarah wouldn’t be there. 

Before long, your intercom buzzed and you let Joel into the building and then into your apartment. Just the sight of him made you feel better, and when he smiled and held out a little bouquet and some chocolate candy, you bypassed both and moved through his open arms to hug him. 

“Hi, sweetheart,” he said with a little surprise. He was able to put the flowers and chocolates down on your entryway side table and hug you back, his strong arms wrapping around you and making you feel safe. 

Joel hugged you until you let go, and your eyes were shining and unsure as you looked at him, “Sorry, thank you.” 

“Nothing to be sorry about, honey. Are you alright?” he asked, brushing the back of his hand along your cheek. 

“It’s just holiday blues, I think,” you told him, tilting your head into his hand when he cradled your jaw. 

He pursed his lips and nodded, “Why don’t we get these flowers in some water and then you can tell me all about it.” 

As you were doing that, Joel found the apples and peanut butter and cookies and told you it was the perfect snack, just what he liked and you were still a little embarrassed but he made you feel better. 

The two of you sat on the couch, Joel in the corner facing you with a leg bent to be on the cushion and the other with his foot on the ground. You sat criss-cross facing him, but you didn’t actually look at him most of the time. At least not his face. His hands, you watched, his mouth as he took bites or answered you, his throat as he swallowed. You focused on these parts of him as you told him about your feelings lately. 

When you trailed off, Joel hummed and finally you looked up at him. He was looking at you with these soft eyes and you felt warm inside. Also like you needed another hug. 

You opened your mouth to ask but didn’t know how and Joel saw your nervous movement. “C’mere, sweetheart.” 

He held his arms out to you and, with a little adjusting, you sat between his legs and leaned into his chest with his arms wrapped around you again. 

“You know, we missed you too,” he murmured, rubbing a hand up and down your back. 

“You did?” you asked, surprised. 

“Mhmm, Sarah kept asking to see her teacher and go to the bookstore. It took a lot of convincing and her stubbornly refusing to believe me until finally I distracted her with one of the books I got with you,” his voice comforted you, being able to feel it rumble in his chest. “Anyway, she’s demanding we go an extra time since we missed one. Not that there’s another class. I guess we’ll just come and browse. But I have to make sure and do it while you’re there or she’ll get upset, you know how it is. Maybe Friday next week again? But in the afternoon, she only has a half day on Fridays.” 

When you didn’t respond after a few seconds, Joel realized you were asleep, feeling your even breathing on his chest and smiling to himself. He was glad you were at least feeling comfortable enough to sleep, it hurt his heart seeing you so down. 

You only slept for about seven minutes, but when you woke up your whole mood was different. You felt refreshed and happy and a little awkward that you fell asleep on him. 

When you looked up at Joel, he smiled down at you and said, “Hi, sleeping beauty. I’d say good morning, but you were only asleep for a bit.” 

“You weren’t sleepy?” you asked with a little smile. 

“Mmm, I was dozing off just now, but I can fall asleep any time anywhere. Side effect of having a five year old,” he joked. 

You frowned, sorry that you interrupted him by waking up. “Should we take a nap? A real one? In my bed?” 

Joel raised his eyebrows, “I’m just joking, sweetheart. Mostly. I don’t want to spend our time together sleeping if you’re just doing it for me.” 

“No, no I want to. Just being close to you makes me feel… good. You make me feel good,” you had sat up a little bit as you talked and moved closer too until you were only a couple inches from him. Both of you were silent for a couple seconds, letting the magnetism of the moment draw you closer. 

Then you were kissing each other, slow but deep as his tongue pressed into your mouth and you opened up for him with a moan. It was steadily getting hotter, faster, when suddenly Joel pulled back to yawn. 

“Oh— my gosh,” you laughed, smiling big when you saw the raspberry blush on his cheeks. “I guess you really need that nap.” 

Joel stammered out an apology, “I— I’m sorry, honey, I didn’t think I was that–”

“Hush, c’mon,” you told him, already standing and holding out a hand to him. “Maybe after you get a good rest we can get back to this. We will be somewhere a little more comfortable, anyway.” 

Joel took in your little smirk and shook his head, grinning, “Anything you want, sweetheart.”

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[heliads]

Lisa, I'm so sorry for a lot of requests but I'm honestly just really excited to read what you write! So I'm here again with another request for peter pan because I live for when you write for him. <3 So can I ask for prompts 21 & 28, fluff please 🙏

Ps. You don't have to write this if you've got a ton of requests already, please know that I never want to force you to write something under pressure! ❤️

-AU Anon

never apologize for requests peter is a king

masterlist

It is late in the afternoon when you realize that you love him.

It was not supposed to happen like this, if it was ever supposed to happen at all. The sands of time were meant to keep falling, to repeat these days over and over again in your blissful stretch of immortality until you had no idea when one century ended and the other began. That’s what Peter Pan promised to you when you first arrived at the island, after all:  endless excitement, endless joy.

Endless being the key principle of the thing. Part of the delight of Neverland is that it goes on forever. There is no real event to break up the repetition, for no good thing dies here, not really. Your days are spent like your nights, long and leaving you weary, full of adventures few could even dream of, let alone have for real.

You have it all here, it’s what he promised you, and Peter has never let you down in all this time. It’s a shame, then, that you have to be the one to ruin things. Once you realize that you love Peter, you could never go back from it. Your thoughts have been contaminated now, a once crystal clear spring running red with blood.

The realization comes upon you by chance, a total accident yet one that you cannot take back. You and Peter are walking through the forest on the way to some last minute archery practice before dinner, talking idly and making things up to pass the time. He’s got his bow in hand, you watch as he casually nocks an arrow and lets it go. The arrowhead whooshes right past you, and when you look up, you know.

Across the clearing, the arrow thuds into the trunk of a tree, the echo beating in time with the drop of your heart into your stomach. Peter’s still saying something, but you’re not sure that you’ve heard the last few sentences of it. All you know for certain is that you have stopped thinking of him like he was a friend, more that he was someone you wanted to keep and never let go.

Peter does not do well with such things, such cages. He was born to leave it all behind, to fly above the treetops or plunge into the forest with such reckless abandon that he would outpace even his closest compatriots. Being a Lost Boy means that you get to try and keep up with him for as long as you can, the effort makes it exciting, but it will never last. Peter Pan has magic, you do not. Peter Pan will have you here as long as he can, but your love could never tie him down forever.

With a great degree of effort, some of it seemingly beyond your control but necessitated by the sheer knowledge that Peter Pan will find you out eventually if you start acting differently around him, you force yourself to return to the conversation. He’s been talking about strategies for the Lost Boys for the last five minutes or so, lost in that sort of manic glee he gets when bloodlust comes to the table. Someday, you’d love to think that he would talk about you with that same all encompassing delight, but not all dreams are meant to last in Neverland.

Despite your renewed efforts at appearing otherwise fine, Peter finds you out soon enough. He pauses for a moment in his reckless scramble through the forest, fixing you with a shrewd look.

“You haven’t been paying attention, have you?” He demands.

You flash him a chagrined smile. “Not as much as I could have, maybe, but I do remember some bit about pirates.”

Peter groans. “You’re distracted again, aren’t you? I swear, you spend half your time in fairyland.”

You laugh. “We live in fairyland, Peter. I think I’m more than allowed to let my thoughts rest in my own home.”

Peter swats you on the shoulder. “You know what I mean. Next time I decide to launch a surprise attack on the pirates, I might hand you over to them instead. Spend a good few years swabbing decks and you’ll miss my rambling, I can promise you that.”

You snort. “Maybe I’d have such an excellent time on board a pirate ship that I would never think twice about you or your ramblings. I’d launch a mutiny and take out the captain within a week. Next time you see me, I’d lead a fierce and deeply loyal crew. I’d be the envy of the high seas, Neverland included.”

Peter’s face darkens. “I should hope not, I can’t stand pirates. They’re terrible creatures. If I had my say, I’d let the mermaids drag their ships down beneath the surface the second they so much as show a single patched eye near our shores. Their waterlogged hats and peg legs would make fine kindling when the winter comes.”

You stare at him, a faint smile playing on your face. “I like that you’ve clearly put some thought into this before. You fascinate me.”

Peter cuts a quick glance your way. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

You lift a shoulder. “I haven’t entirely decided yet. Maybe I will once you stop merely obsessing over pirates and actually commit to drowning them all. Your mad plans are nothing without decisive action, you know.”

“I would have thought you’d be telling me not to murder a bunch of pirates,” Peter comments.

“You clearly don’t know me very well, then,” you say simply, and leave it at that.

The two of you have arrived at the archery training grounds by now, and you walk away from Peter to rejoin the other Lost Boys. When you risk a glance over your shoulder, you notice that Peter is looking at you with this strange expression on his face, as if he can’t decide what to make of you. Or himself, for that matter.

You’re clearly not the only one who’s noticed Peter’s perturbance, however. A shadow falls on the ground near your feet, and seconds later a quiet voice sounds from behind you.

“Should I ask what you and Pan were talking about to make him have that look on his face, or would it be smarter to just stay away from the whole thing?”

You laugh and turn to face one of your best friends on the island. You and Felix are Peter’s left and right hands on Neverland, but instead of trying to do something unnecessary like compete for the titles, you’ve just grown to like Felix far better than the rest of the Lost Boys. He’s dangerous in a more silent way than Peter, the knife behind a back instead of out in the open.

He’s also rather funny when you give him credit for it. “Usually, I’d warn you away from our general mischief, but nothing’s happening,” you tell him. “I think Peter always has that expression whenever he talks to people instead of simply trying to kill them.”

Felix arches a disbelieving brow. “Not a chance. Pan only gets that sort of dumbfounded expression when he spends time with you.”

You cast him an incredulous look. “Now you really are joking with me. Nothing out of the ordinary is happening.”

“Not for you,” Felix contradicts, “but if any other Lost Boy had a conversation that long and that intense with Pan, they’d walk away from it thinking they were about to die. I’ve never seen Pan like that with anybody else. Believe me or don’t believe me, but it’s true.”

You look at Felix sharply, but Peter is striding briskly over to the archery targets and addressing the Lost Boys at large, so all conversation must be forgotten from the time being. Even after the two of you step away to your respective places in the shooting line, however, you can’t stop thinking about what Felix had said. 

Surely he can’t be right. You’ve seen Peter talking with plenty of other Lost Boys on occasion, even Felix himself for that matter. Peter might not always be as verbose with some of the newer boys, but that’s just because strangers are so deathly afraid of him that they don’t dare say anything more than a couple of syllables.

You suppose your own fear wore off quite a long time ago, if it ever existed at all. Come to think of it, has there ever been a time in which you didn’t see Peter as a friend, a compatriot, someone to love and lose all in one? He has never been anything but close to you.

Maybe Felix was right, then. Maybe Peter does truly look at you differently, because of everyone here, he didn’t have to fight for your heart. It has always been his, even if you didn’t realize it until now. Peter is used to his conquests, his bloody victories. No wonder he’s confused with you– you never put up a fight.

This is the tune of your thoughts throughout archery practice, and you use your confusion and conflict to send your arrows thudding into the center of the target time and time again. There is no greater motivation than that wielded by a broken heart that’s been patched and mended, saved and stolen until no trace of it outside of grief and hope could ever possibly exist.

It must show on your face, this war going on inside your chest, because Peter seeks you out again once the training session is over. You’re removing the last of your arrows from your target when he walks over, casual as can be.

He leans up against the side of your target, head tilted towards the sky above. “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong, or do I have to guess?”

You arch a brow and continue pulling out the arrows. “Why would something be wrong?”

Peter exhales harshly and tilts his head over to look at you. “Because I can tell when something’s wrong, obviously. I’ve always been able to read you like an open book and you know it.”

You laugh before you can stop yourself. “Yeah, you definitely have.”

The sarcasm bleeds through the words, and Peter picks up on it in a flash. “What does that mean? You have to tell me.”

You roll your eyes at his tone. “So demanding, Peter. It’s not very nice of you.”

He bears his teeth in a wolf’s grin. “I’m not very nice and you know that. I take pride in it. Now, what could you possibly mean?”

You take an obvious glance around at the groups of Lost Boys still milling about the place. Peter takes the hint and starts to walk away towards a less populated area of the island. You consider the possibility of just staying here and ignoring the conversation altogether, but you know Peter enough to guess that he’d just track you down later. Peter is a bloodhound when it comes to secrets. In all honesty, it comes as a surprise that you’ve been able to hide your own at all.

At last, you gather up the last of your courage and hope as your sword and shield, and follow your heart into battle. Peter is waiting for you on the outskirts of the clearing, and the two of you stroll in silence before Peter decides that you’re sufficiently out of hearing range of the others and stops again.

“So,” he says, “what could you possibly be hiding from me? I have known you better than anyone else since the day you arrived on my island, Y/N. No secret could possibly be hidden from me.”

He’s looking at you with that familiar grin, a hint of a challenge burning behind his eyes. In truth, you think Peter’s excited by the chance that you might not be all he ever pictured. Peter Pan delights in the chase, the hunt. Here at last is a suitable opponent.

You fold your arms across your chest. “Maybe I keep my secrets for good reason. Why should I tell you?”

Peter’s brows raise. “Because I run this island and I could kick you off of it if I suspected you of dishonesty?”

You scoff. “Shallow threat. I’d like to see you get rid of me.”

Peter doesn’t exactly deny this, a point in your favor. He switches to the attack soon enough to make up for it. “Then it’s important, this secret. Does it concern me?”

You do your best to seem unconcerned, but something in your face must give it away, because Peter’s eyes flash with victory.

“It does!” He crows.

You roll your eyes. “It’s your island, Peter. Don’t you love reminding us of that? Many secrets on Neverland would have to do with you in some small way.”

“It’s not that,” he muses, “I can tell. Alright, it has to do with me, something you don’t want me to know, something important that you wouldn’t tell me under pain of death.”

“If I wouldn’t tell you under pain of death,” you comment wryly, “why do you think you’ll be able to get it out of me now?”

Peter ignores this. “Actually, I think I have an idea of it.”

You don’t particularly like the knowing look in his eyes. “And? What’s my secret, Peter? What am I trying so hard to hide?”

“I’m not going to tell you immediately,” he retorts, “I want to check if I’m right first.”

You cock your head to the side, curious, but before you have much time to question it Peter abruptly closes the distance between the two of you, sealing the mystery with a kiss. There’s one quiet moment when you think your heart might explode out of your chest, and then he’s breaking away and you have been found out once and for all.

“Looks like I was right,” he breathes, although he doesn’t seem half so unaffected as normal. Instead, the delight in his eyes is genuine, not that of a tormenter but someone who has been waiting for a moment like this for an eternity. For the first time, you wonder if you might have been wrong to doubt Peter ever loving you.

“Alright, then,” you say, barely managing to pull yourself together long enough to form the syllables, “you know my secret. What do you have to say for yourself now?”

The corners of Peter’s lips twitch up into a smile, the first honest one you’ve seen on his face in quite some time. “Only that I have a secret of my own.”

He whispers something in your ear, then walks past you back out of the forest. You only catch a brief snippet of syllables, and then he’s gone, disappeared back into the waving thickets of green:

“I love you too.”

ouat tag list: @lovesanimals0000, @amortensie, @lost-ender

[oh-surprise-its-me]

Roy/Jamie prompt: Just Roy or Jamie stuck in a time loop where they witness the other die before them in all sorts of ways, and then everything resets. The only way to break free is to figure out that yes, the one who was his enemy before is now the one true love of his life and say so. Then comes the trauma recovery.

Heheh I love a good time loop.

tw obviously Roy dies but he never stays dead he’s totally okay

Jamie wakes up again. Jesus. How many times has it been at this point. 30? 70? They’ve all started blurring together.

He decides fuck it and goes to Roy’s house again that night. He knows it won’t change anything. Roy has died every day for the past 90? The first time it happened Jamie got hit by a bus right after Roy slipped off the bridge. Jamie only had enough time to think that he regretted not telling Roy he loved him.

By the 20th time, Jamie mixed it up and didn’t show up at Roy’s house. Thought maybe he was the problem. He was wrong. He got the text that night that Roy died. When he went to bed he just prayed it didn’t stick.

He lets himself into the house. “Roy?” Roy comes down the stairs. There’s one thing Jamie hasn’t tried yet, and if it doesn’t work Jamie might just give up. “Sit on the couch and hear me out yeah?”

Roy looks at him like he’s lost his mind, but does it anyways. Jamie sits next to him. Closer then he normally would but fuck it he’ll be dead in a few hours anyways.

“I’m in love with you. I’m in love with you and you keep dying and I keep waking up and having to relive the same goddamn day where you’re taken from me.”

Roy blinks at him. “Did you hit your head.”

Jamie lightly punches him, “no prick. You gonna answer me?”

Roy carefully puts his hand on Jamie’s head. Jamie realizes he’s checking for a fever.

God Jamie wishes this was all a fever dream.

“Let’s pretend this isn’t insane. Just answer me Roy.”

Roy takes Jamie’s hand. “Yeah I’m in love with you too. Didn’t want to say anything about it because of how much we hated each other at the beginning.”

Jamie grins. God when this day ends he’s going to hold onto it forever. God might even do it again the next day just to see if Roy reacts the same.

“Can I kiss you?” Roy nods, they kiss. It’s calmer then you’d expect for them. “Come back to bed with me Jamie, let’s sleep we can talk in the morning.”

Jamie laughs, why not. It can’t hurt. Roy will probably slip on the steps and break his neck again.

But he doesn’t. They make it all the way to bed and even in it and nothing bad happens. Roy must die in his sleep this time around.

Roy holds onto Jamie like a teddy bear, it’s the fastest Jamie has fallen asleep since this all started.

-

When Jamie wakes up he’s being held. His first thought is that it’s not a new day and Roy is dead behind him.

He’s proven wrong when Roy pulls him closer. “Morning. We slept past our run time it’s 7am.”

Jamie sits up straight. “7am? You made it to 7am?”

Roy touches Jamie’s back. “Baby you’re scaring me a bit.”

Jamie let’s put a sob. He throws himself onto Roy. God they made it. It’s over. “You kept dying. I couldn’t stop it. It was horrible. I love you so much don’t leave me.”

Roy keeps petting his head. “I don’t know what that means but it’s okay now. I’ve got you. I love you too.”

Jamie knows this is going to fuck him up for a while, but apparently he’s got Roy. Apparently that’s all he needed.

He holds onto Roy and just listens to him breathe for the rest of the morning.

[insertsickusername13]

as a prompt: a richjake roadtrip after senior year

this took me so long.who knew road trips were so hard to write? wtf. like it's such a classic it should've been easy, but i started this weeks ago and only managed to finish it now bc i just refused to close the tab until i finished. and on that note i've been writing for the past hour and my brain has lost all ability to process the english language so i didn't edit it. if there's grammar mistakes or certain sentences are total nonsense then i'm very very sorry

uh, warnings? mentions of sex. mentions of drugs and alcohol.

word count: 5,437 (yes, it's longer than I wanted. its a roadtrip. how am i supposed to write that in a thousand words?)

On the second day, Rich told Jake he liked him. They were up in Maine, planning on getting all of New England before heading west. Jake had the passenger seat pushed back as far as it could go, eyes closed and legs almost straightened. It was early—7? Maybe 8?

When Jake had insisted they go on a road trip together, Rich had imagined late mornings in hotel rooms and late nights in clubs. (He also imagined Jake realizing just how terrible this would be for his legs within the first three hours, but it was hour eight and he still seemed determined.) Instead, he got a rigid schedule and a pre-made playlist. No bars or underground concerts—just Mount Rushmore and Chicago and art museums. Aquariums where there were ones, beaches when they could. 

They’d only been through Massachusetts and Connecticut by the time Rich gave in. They were alone for the first time in ages—and not in their house, not with the promise of going to school and seeing their friends the next day. They were practically in the middle-of-no-where-New-Hampshire and Rich could pull over, stand on the roof of the car, and scream, “I love Jake Dillinger!!” and the only person who would hear would be the object of his affections. The urge to confess flurried within and around the car like an unshakable snowstorm. 

 He didn’t mean to say it. In all honesty, it was a misinterpreted phrase, a result of Rich’s excessive talking as Jake hummed from the passenger seat, half-asleep.

 “But Interstellar just had more,” he said, only half paying attention to the empty highway, “Like yeah, okay, Tenet was weird as fuck and probably had a cooler concept if I was smart enough to figure it the fuck out, but the main character’s name was fucking protagonist. Who becomes emotionally attached to a dude named protagonist? It lacked the depth Interstellar had. Plus, Interstellar felt attainable. Like fuck yeah, I wanna go to space.”

 “Mhm.”

 “I’d take you with me. Maybe Michael, but I’m not sure how ventilation works on a spacecraft and his weed might stink up the whole thing.”

 “Probably.”

 “You’d be a menace, you can barely handle gas station food, let alone space food. You’d have a heart attack at not being able to have your weekly caviar.”

 “You’d just throw me out in space,” Jake mumbled, not even bothering to deny the caviar jab. 

 “Nah, I like you too much,” Rich teased, poking at Jake’s exposed stomach. He expected a squawk, at least for Jake to shove him away, but there was only silence. Rich took his eyes off the road for just a split second, interest piqued, only to be met with Jake’s wide, terrified expression. 

He’d said it a million times before and never overthought it, but maybe there was something different about this time. Maybe it was because they were alone rather than surrounded by friends, maybe it was because now they’d planned a life together—college, in Boston, Jake at Harvard and Rich at Emerson, still roommates. Maybe it was accursed Maine and all its forests, or the way Rich emphasized like. Love was a common word between them, said every sleepless night since the fire, but like meant so much more. Like implied a hesitance only present where romance was seeping into every word. 

 “No, you don’t," Jake seethed.

 Rich scoffed. A restless apprehension crept its way up his spine and settled in his fingertips, which tapped against the steering wheel. 

 “Pretty sure I do, buddy. You’re—”

 “I’m your best friend and you don’t like me.”

 Oh. Oh fuck. Jake meant like that. He knew, he—fuck. Rich had to consciously stop himself from accidentally sending the car tumbling into the forest. 

 “Okay,” Rich forced out, “Okay. I don’t like you.”

 Jake’s sigh of relief was similar to a comet colliding with Rich’s home. He squeezed the steering wheel and kept his mouth clamped shut, terrified that one wrong move would send them spiraling off the edge of the Earth. 

 As it turned out, though, Jake didn’t mind Rich’s confession. He didn’t directly acknowledge It afterward, glad to pretend he was still blissfully unaware of every icy undercurrent running under their feet. 

 Rich thought an explicit rejection would hurt. He’d imagined how it would go a million times over, a passive version of self-destruction. He lay awake next to Jake’s sleeping body and thought of every word he’d say, how he’d say it, the way he’d look away with guilt. Rich had all his responses planned, all his apologies already written. He was prepared for an, ‘I’m so sorry, I just don’t think of you that way—’

 He was not prepared for Jake’s arm slung over his shoulder, lips close to his ear, and that quiet, breathy laugh Jake only let slip out around Rich. 

 They were in some local museum meant to educate passing tourists about some half-abandoned small town Stephen King would write about. It was reasonably entertaining, mostly a distraction from the storm of heartbreak he was trying to disassemble in his chest. Just one night—he needed one night alone in a hotel room to sob out every sorrow, then he’d bounce back. Just one night.

 If only Jake would stop trying to kill him. Rich was satisfied reading about boats or whales or something (he’d forgotten, too busy thinking about Jake’s fingers clutching Rich’s t-shirt to keep his balance) with Jake a good two feet away, examining a painting. But Rich’s beautiful demolitionist decided his next target was Rich. He appeared to the right of him and practically draped himself over him, impossibly energetic for being in a place that reeked of desolation and dust.

 “Fuckin’ Maine and their lobsters,” Jake grumbled into Rich’s ear, resting his chin in the crook of his shoulder.

 Every possible witty response died before Rich even had the chance to think them up. His brain was too muddled with Jake and Jake knowing and Jake being so close. Where there would usually be a confession on the tip of Rich’s tongue, unspoken but overwhelming, there was only the bitter aftertaste of hope.

 “Yeah,” Rich stated, simple and short. Jake’s cane knocked against Rich’s knee. It wasn’t even on the ground anymore, having been replaced by Rich. 

 Jake made a small sound of confusion before nuzzling a bit closer and said, “Do we wanna drive to Vermont for lunch? Or are we staying here?”

 “It’s like a four-hour drive.”

 “So we’re staying here?”

 “If you want.”

 Jake shifted away slightly, just far enough that Rich began reteaching himself how to breathe. 

 “You’re all red,” Jake stated, soft and oblivious. 

 Okay, so no breathing. Rich writhed in Jake’s hold until he was free and standing three feet away, face even redder than before, an instinctive reaction to Jake’s intense, unwavering gaze. Picking through the flood of panic in his mind, Rich only barely managed to get out, “Sorry.”

 “Why would you be s—oh. No, that’s—I didn’t mean to—like, we’re—”

 Rich was going to cry. In front of the boy he was in love with, he was going to cry. Jake sounded so panicked and apologetic that Rich could almost feel it gathering like snowflakes in his hair, coating the floor in pure white dust.

 “Jake, stop. It’s fine.”

 “Are you su—”

 “Let’s just go to lunch. I saw a diner on the way here.”

 Jake nodded rapidly, almost desperately, as he stormed from the room—almost as if he could escape Rich’s feelings merely by leaving this goddamn museum behind.

 He almost succeeded. It took an awkward lunch and two hours of driving on an empty highway, but eventually, Rich’s one-word answers slipped back into enthusiastic ramblings and Jake learned not to flinch away whenever Rich’s hand got too close.

 Rich still cried when they got to the hotel. It was his turn to pay and, despite repeatedly telling Jake that he was going to save as much money as possible, he bought two separate rooms for them. Jake didn’t so much as blink. Still, the next night they were in a shared room with separate beds, far enough that if Rich reached out he’d be met with only empty air, but close enough he could still hear Jake’s breathing.

 It wasn’t until Illinois that Rich was once again faced with the consequences of his stupid, unintentional confession. Once again in different hotel rooms, Jake had to knock on Rich’s door at 2 am to get his attention.

 Rich was half asleep, his phone in his hand still open to Michael’s text messages. At first, he was convinced Jake was a figment of the SQUIP—the knocks would get louder until Rich was on the floor, rocking back and forth with his hands over his ears waiting for the noises to stop. 

 But then he heard, “Richie?” and his panic evaporated as if it was never there. 

 “What the fuck?” he said, answering the door with a fabricated scowl. At Jake’s nighttime smile, it melted into reluctant contentment.

 Jake held up a towel and a pair of swim trunks. “Hot tub? I saw they had one.”

 “Well, it’s most definitely closed by now.”

 Jake ducked his head with a bashful grin on his face and shrugged. Rich knew by now that Jake only followed the rules when adults were there to praise him for his obedience, and Jake knew Rich knew, but he always acted like a scolded child when he suggested something even vaguely rebellious. 

 “Could be fun,” he whispered, blushing at the floor. 

 “Oh my god, gimme those and stop acting like a five-year-old.”

 Jake positively beamed, sunshine incarnated. Rich almost had a heart attack as he ripped the swim trunks from Jake’s grasp as quickly as he could, doing everything in his power to avoid brushing Jake’s hands against his own as he slammed the door shut to get changed.

 By the time they got to the hot tub, Rich was sure he was going to die. He didn’t know he had a thing for boys picking locks, but seeing Jake on his knees in front of the glass door, his credit card in the slit between the door and the wall had done something to Rich.

 And Jake, skin red from the hot water, eyes glazed over from the third beer he’d had (that someone Rich hadn’t noticed was in his hand)? Yeah. That was something else entirely. He was frozen despite the heat, paralyzed by Jake’s hands on his hips, tracing stars with his thumb. 

 “You’re so pretty like this,” Jake whispered, voice almost lost in the foggy steam filling the room. He wasn’t making eye contact, instead staring at the point of contact between them like he could see the pearly gates of heaven reflected in the water.

 “Yep,” Rich squeaked. He didn’t want to say no, he would do anything to be able to enjoy it for what it was, but… but fuck. This was survival for him. He couldn’t wake up tomorrow in Jake’s hotel room and continue as if nothing had happened—it wasn’t a wouldn’t. There was no choice in this. Rich could not have sex with Jake and be forced to be friends with him afterward. He couldn’t have his feelings manipulated and abused, no matter how much he loved Jake. 

 Oblivious to Rich’s internal musings, Jake leaned down until he was so close Rich was almost convinced they were kissing. 

 “You want this?” he said. Just those three words, not the ones Rich was aching, breaking, longing to hear, were enough for their lips to brush together. Less than a second, barely a moment, and Rich thought he felt the moon shatter. 

 Rich would’ve responded if he could get air in his lungs, but Jake was so close he inhaled all the oxygen that would’ve been Rich’s. All he could do in the haze, the fire, the fear, was shake his head ‘no.’ Not when Jake was drunk. Not when he was looking at Rich like he used to look at Chloe.

 Jake jerked back an inch, then two, brows furrowed with confusion. 

 “I thought—”

 “I don’t like you, remember?” 

 Jake blinked. Rich could tell he was being too slow, his intelligence impacted by the alcohol. It shouldn't take this long for him to figure out what Rich was trying to say—usually, he’d be able to predict Rich’s next words before he even thought them up. 

 This time, though, Jake just whispered, so small his words could fit in the space between every molecule of air between them, “What?”

 “I don’t like you. You told me I don’t like you.”

 Another second passed, stretched far beyond what should have been physically possible. Only then did Jake’s eyes flash with recognition. 

 “Right,” he said, then smiled, “Right, but that was just—I was freaked out, but I’ve thought about it, so much Rich, it’s all I can fucking think about, and you’re—”

 “You’re drunk.”

 “I’m buzzed at best, Rich, listen to me—” he got closer again, eyes alight, and for a split second, the same amount of time it took for someone to realize they were about to die, Rich felt a flicker of hope. Innocent, buttercup hope. Jake in his arms. Waking up to Jake’s face pressed into his hair. Jake kissing him lovingly. 

 Rich’s face contorted to hide the blissful fantasy from Jake’s prying eyes. 

 Jake jerked back again, this time so far that he fell back into the water (gracefully, because everything Jake did was graceful), expression a crater of ash and fire. 

 “Do you… I don’t…”

 “You’re hurting me, Jake.”

 Jake scrambled farther away, fumbling through the water to the edge of the hot tub as if it was made of glass shards. His mouth was open, words spilling out in a desperate, violent waterfall. 

 “No, no, you’re not listening to me, Rich, I want you—”

 “Yeah, when you’ve got me half naked.”

 “What?! No, stop, I’m telling you I want you, all of you, not sex, or—”

 “Jacob I can see your boner from here. Don’t try this. It hurts. You can’t—”

 “I’m not trying to!”

 Jake’s voice was getting loud, his face redder than before. His wet hair went from sexy to frazzled and threatening. His hands were pulling at the roots, tangling in the knots. Rich recognized the mosaic his fear created and could almost see Jake tumbling off cliffs of insanity and desperation. He knew Jake through the months he spent alone in that empty mansion after his parents left, either drunk on expensive liquor or high on the pills his mother left behind, he knew just how dangerous a desperate Jake could be. Not violent, but so goddamn broken it was impossible not to cut himself on the pieces as he gathered him up and reconstructed him back into a man.

 “Then stop it!” Rich screamed, “You don’t fucking know, Jake. You’re fucking—the only relationships you’ve been in have been about sex and, and popularity, and you don’t understand this feeling.”

 It was as easy as that. Rich knew he’d twisted the knife, knew that maybe he’d taken it a step too far, but he didn’t deserve this. After years of pining, Jake didn’t get to reject him and then try to bed him. That wasn’t allowed. 

 When Jake spoke again, it was emotionless. Monotonous. Devoid of all humanity. Words on a page, scripted and controlled. Rich had lost all access to Jake. 

 “What happened with Chloe doesn’t define me. You know that, I know you know that, so don’t even fucking try me. I don’t know what it’s like to hide and lie about my feelings for years, but you don’t know what it’s like to watch the only person you’ve ever loved—”

 “Don’t say that.”

 “To watch the only person you’ve ever loved,” Jake repeated, more determined this time, “flinch away whenever you so much as look his way because he’s so insecure he can’t accept that maybe you want to spend the rest of your life with him.”

 Rich’s fists clenched. He wasn’t sure how he’d ended up out of the hot tub, but he was standing by the door, dripping and scowling and on the verge of tears. 

 “Fuck you.”

 “Really? That’s it? Tell me what you want. Tell me you want me and it’s that simple. Tell me you know I want you.”

 “You’re my best friend.”

 Jake flinched at his own words thrown back at him. He kept his mouth clamped shut as Rich kept talking. 

 “You’re my best friend and I don’t know what the fuck is up with you tonight, but you told me yourself that we’re friends. I’m not going to let you ruin that with sex.”

 “That’s not what—”

 “I’m not going to let some half-hearted relationship ruin us, Jacob"

 Jake stayed silent, seemingly waiting for more. Rich watched him realize there was nothing left to say, that this was the end of the conversation. His lips were trembling. Rich wished they weren’t.

 “Fine,” Jake breathed. He sagged to the floor, knees pressed against the tile, hands clasped politely in front of him. “Fine. Friends. Best friends. If—if you really think being together would ruin us, then we’re just friends.” 

 “Good,” Rich said as if he couldn’t feel each cell within him bursting and bubbling with acidic heartbreak. “Friends.”

 They stayed there for a moment, waiting for some finale to hit—some final blow to tattoo this night in black on their skin—but there was only burning silence.

 “I’m going to bed,” Rich said finally. 

 Jake only nodded, still staring at the floor. Rich slipped from the room and screamed out sobs into his pillow until the sun forced light back into his life. 

 He stumbled through his morning routine, struggling to close his suitcase and stuff it into the trunk of their car. It wasn’t until he saw Jake, his smile bright but eyes tired, sitting alone in the dining room that the haze lifted just enough for him to realize friends ate breakfast together. 

 He sat down across from Jake without a word, and only once Jake looked up from his half-eaten breakfast did Rich force the skeleton of a smile onto his face. Jake mimicked it with much more success. 

 “Top of the morning to ya, buddy,” he said, the word buddy spat out like it hurt, “So, I was thinking, St. Louis is like an hour and a half away, maybe we stop there around noon, see the arch thingy, the move on. There’s a zoo like thirty minutes from there that we can stop at for a while. We can end the night in Wisconsin, see I don’t know, some small town, then tomorrow we can go to Minnesota?”

 Rich nodded. He wasn’t sure if he could speak yet. 

 “Great! I’ve still gotta pack up, so just let me do that, then we can hit the road.”

 Rich nodded again. Jake’s gaze lingered too long, flitting across his face, from his bloodshot eyes to his lips, before he finally looked away, his smile faltering. He cleared his throat. 

 “I’ll see ya in a bit, then.”

 “Yeah! Can’t wait.”

 Rich wished he could think of more to say, but the day seemed to be coated in an unbreakable silence. The car ride was awkward—Jake kept the radio off, choosing instead to prompt Rich with question after question as if they were kids meeting for the first time. Rich offered up every answer he had. He didn’t have many. 

 They stopped for ice cream sometime in the late afternoon, after a tense trip to the St. Louis arch during which Jake elbowed Rich after making a joke and Rich almost hyperventilated. 

 “What should I get?” Jake asked, surveying the menu. 

 “Whatever you want.”

 “I want you.”

 Rich whipped around to face him, every muscle in his body clenched and ready to fight. 

 “What?”

 “Raspberry looks good.”

 Rich didn’t push it., but the words echoed in his ribs until his lungs were bruised. 

 It happened again a week later. An art museum in Washington. 

 “It’s beautiful,” Rich said, staring in wonder at a painting of the ocean during a storm. 

 “So are you.”

 Rich didn’t turn to look at him. He scrutinized the painting, looking at every color and brushstroke until three minutes later, Jake had to go to the bathroom. 

 In California: An aquarium gift shop. 

 “Do you like it?” Jake asked, watching Rich hold a penguin stuffed animal against his chest.

 “I love it,” Rich said, his voice muffled by the fabric. He was hiding his face behind the wings so Jake wouldn’t see his eyes watering at the fact the cashier had called Jake such a good boyfriend for buying him the penguin.

 “I love y—”

 He had the decency to cut himself off. 

 “I’m glad you like it,” he amended, and it was left at that.

 Until Texas. A hotel twenty minutes from the Space Center Houston only had one room. Of course. 

 It had two beds. Rich sat upright in one, phone in hand, Michael on the other end. Michael didn’t know what had happened between Rich and Jake, but he did know Jake was on the other side of the room, headphones on as he stared at his computer doing one thing or another. Rich watched him, still helplessly in love despite the repeated heartbreak he experienced every time they did so much as make eye contact.

 “Las Vegas was so overhyped,” Rich complained, “Probably because Jake and I can’t legally gamble, but the hotel was so fucking cool. There was this giant fountain and so many lights. Almost had a panic attack because of the noise, but once I got over that it was sick.”

 “Las Vegas or San Fransisco?”

 “San Fransisco 100% buddy, not even a question. Food was great. I was a little scared we were gonna get devoured by a wildfire, but we ended up fine. East Coast is so much better, though. I can’t wait to get back. Jake said we can stop in the Everglades.”

 “You want to got to the Everglades?!”

 “Yes!! Snakes, Michael! I need to see a Burmese python and alligator fight to the death!”

 “You’re crazy.”

 “I’m well aware, but this is a childhood dream of mine that must be fulfilled before death takes me.”

 Michael laughed. Jake made a strangled sound from across the room. 

 Rich froze up and instinctively forced an awkward smile on his face, tense and unsure of what exactly had prompted Jake’s reaction. He glanced at his pretty sunflower out of the corner of his eye—his hunched shoulders, a posture that was so unlike him, his face illuminated by the computer screen. Rich cleared his throat to rip himself from admiring him. 

 “Yeah, yeah, I’m hilarious,” he choked out, “Okay, it’s—it’s late, I better get going now.”

 “It’s like 9—”

 “Night!”

 Rich hung up but stayed staring at his phone for far too long, terrified to do anything but. 

 “Are you okay?” Jake whispered. His computer was closed now and he was facing Rich, crisscrossed on his bed. Rich straightened and nodded. 

 “Yeah, yeah, just tired. Sorry.”

 “Have you been tired for the last three weeks?“ 

 Rich blinked at him, too focused on the blue of his eyes to comprehend his words. 

 “What?” he finally said. Jake just shook his head and turned off the lamp, deciding darkness was the best course of action. 

 Rich thought it would be him who’d be unable to sleep, haunted by blues and I love yous, but it was Jake who tossed and turned and writhed in his sheets, wrestling with some invisible enemy long after Rich fell asleep. 

 When Rich awoke the next morning, it was to Jake packing his suitcase. He stayed still for a moment, admiring Jake as he carefully folded each shirt, hands gentle and sure of themselves. Since Illinois, every look he’d given Rich was coated in a layer of lies Rich hadn’t been on the receiving end of since sophomore year. 

He didn’t know Rich was watching him now. He looked sad, irrevocably so. The tip of his nose was red, the first sign of sadness. Then it was the parted lips—he was a snotty crier. Rich learned that after watching Bambi with him. He’d been crying, and now he couldn’t breathe through his nose. His chest was moving up and down in stuttery, unsure movements, and after every piece of folded laundry, he had to pause to press the heel of his hand against his mouth to stifle a sob. 

 “What’s wrong?” Rich rushed out, the usual sluggishness of his mornings completely eradicated by Jake—Jake crying. 

 Jake jumped at the sound of Rich’s voice and regained his composure within a split second. There was suddenly a smile, open body language, and eyes that remained just as dead as before. 

 “You’re awake! I have something for you.”

 “I don’t care, what’s—”

 “No, no, trust me, you’ll care, hold on.”

 Still smiling beautifully, he turned to the desk and grabbed two pieces of paper. Then, movements peppy and face alight, he sat down in front of Rich and handed them to him. 

 “Okay…?” Rich said, looking down at the pieces of paper with little interest—Jake. Crying. Jake. Crying. That was all he was worried about. 

 Until he realized the papers were printed out plane tickets. One to Florida, the flight set to leave eight hours from then. Another three days later, from Florida to New Jersey. He reread the words. Then reread them. And again. And again. 

 All he could get out was, “What the fuck?”

 “You can see the Everglades!” Jake said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

 “Well—well yeah, but… we’re driving there? Together?”

 Jake shook his head. “No, yeah, we were, but—I mean, after Illinois…”

 He paused to clear his throat and look away. Rich was on the verge of screaming, but that could wait until Jake had finished whatever shitty explanation he was about to offer. The longer the silence lasted, the more Jake’s sunny demeanor faded out.

 “After Illinois, I mean you don’t—you aren’t happy, Rich. Not around me. Last night, like, with Michael—” Rich had never heard Jake struggle with words this much. He was stuttering, tripping over his words, raising his volume too high then lowering it to the point Rich could barely hear him. “—you were talking to him, and you won’t do that with me anymore, and I want you to talk like that because it’s—fuck, it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and if you can’t do that around me anymore—because I fucked up and apparently ruined the best thing to ever happen to me—then maybe some time apart would be good for us?”

 Jake looked up at Rich hopefully. Rich wasn’t sure what he was hoping for and he didn’t have the energy to figure it out through the anger crawling inside his skin. 

 “You’re kicking me out?”

 “No! No. I just think you should have the chance to be—no, I need the chance to—I want you to be happy—”

 “I’m happy.”

 “You won’t even look at me. You won’t talk to me. I’m hurting you.”

 Rich suddenly understood why Jake had looked so heartbroken after hearing the phrase you’re my best friend. Having his words manipulated and turned against him hurt more than the flames ever had.

 “That’s—no—”

 “And I thought I could fix it by just being your friend, but we’re not even that anymore. I want us to be. So badly. I can’t lose you. I can’t go to Harvard without coming home to you every night. And I’ll do anything to save us, and right now that means you have to get away from me.”

 “Stop—”

 “So I got you tickets to go see the Everglades. I even booked you a boat tour. I’m not sure about seeing a Burmese python, but you can try. Then you can have the rest of summer in New Jersey with Michael and everyone else, and we can meet up in Boston, and everything will be okay.”

 “Jake—”

 “I can’t ruin another relationship. I know I have a bad track record, I know I can’t commit or be romantic, and you’re probably right to realize I’d destroy whatever beautiful thing we managed to create, but honestly, you’re more beautiful than anything I could ever make, and I can’t destroy that, I have to protect that, even if I’m not around to see it for a while.” 

 “No—”

 “But I can move on while we’re apart, and hopefully you can too, then we can be best friends in Boston and roommates forever and you can get married and I can pretend I’m happy for y—”

 Rich kissed him. Quick and sloppy and frantic. It was hypocritical, to say the least, self-destructive if Rich was being completely honest with himself. But the feeling of Jake falling into it, pressing closer and moving so his trembling hands could press against Rich’s waist and back, was intoxicating.

 Rich kept it short, though the feeling of just Jake’s gentleness was enough for him to want more. 

 He pulled back, Jake trailing after him until he collapsed against Rich, forehead pressed to Rich’s shoulder and lips pressed to his neck and collarbone. 

 “I don’t understand,” he said between kisses. Rich promised himself he’d memorize the feeling before it was taken from him. 

 “I’d rather be heartbroken with you than happy with anyone else,” Rich explained softly, tangling his fingers in Jake’s hair and pulling his head back to look him in the eye. Jake breathed out a sound Rich chose not to identify and tried to lean up and kiss Rich again.  

 “You’re not ruinous,” Rich got out just before Jake gifted him kiss after kiss like offerings to a god, “You’re not destructive and Chloe doesn’t define you and I’m sorry I implied she did, I shouldn’t have, and I’m terrified I’m gonna lose you and terrified this is all a prank and terrified you’re going to leave—”

 “Never,” Jake confessed, eyes closed and expression melted into pure bliss. “Never, ever, ever. It took me too long to realize how bad I want you. I can’t lose more time.”

 “I want you too.”

 “I want you to be happy.”

 “I can be once I get my head out of my ass and realize you’re even more perfect than I thought.”

 Jake laughed soundlessly and pulled Rich onto his lap. “Perfect?”

 “You’re gorgeous. You’re kind. You’d never purposefully hurt me, and I was stupid to think you would. I just—it hurt. The car. You telling me—Jake, I was still in survival mode. I didn’t mean anything I said. I swear it. Please don’t make me leave.”

 Jake shook his head. 

 “No, I won’t. I can’t. I’m sorry for what I said in the car. That wasn’t cool or okay, I just… panicked? Because I always knew—I didn’t want to say it, or think it, or acknowledge it, but I knew, and you saying it made it so real I couldn’t even pretend I could ever want anyone else and that was—I wasn’t ready for that to hit so suddenly.”

 Rich felt so warm inside he was convinced he was going to overheat and collapse in on himself like a dying star. He kissed Jake like he was made of roses until he was convinced he’d erased every terrible thought he’d placed in Jake’s mind in Illinois. 

 “So we’re going to stop being cowards now,” Rich said, clear and determined, “And I’m going to be happy because the most beautiful boy in the world decided I’m worth his time and he’s going to be happy because now I’m here to tell him he’s the most beautiful boy in the world every single morning, and that he can’t kick me to the curb even if he tries.”

 Jake laughs and nods and kisses him again. 

 “God,” he whispered, tracing stars on Rich’s hips, “I’ve never been so glad I wasted two thousand dollars in my life.”

 “Yeah. Yeah, me too.”

 There was a short, weighted pause. Then, “Wait, did you say two thousand? Jake, flights to Florida should not be two thousand dollars.”

 “Well, not for economy.”

 “Econ—you were planning on giving me first-class tickets to Florida to soften the blow of practically breaking up with me?”

 Jake was too giddy to be offended. He wrapped himself around Rich and kissed him again. 

 “It seemed like a good idea at the time, shut up.”

 “No, I am not shutting up, that is the stupidest thing I have ever heard. We’re going to seriously work on your spending habits in Boston, buddy—baby—you’ve got the rest of the summer to be an idiot with your money, then we’re starting a retirement fund. For fuck's sake, you’re going to be broke by the time you’re thirty.”