#if he elbowed you you WOULD feel it where he's all skin-and-bones. but also easier to push than either other boy

[krshush]

Took a shower while still thinking abt Describing Characters and y'all I love shape language. Love artistic stylization and shorthand.

Even if cartoon styles get flack for it, and even if you think it wouldn't matter to the most realistic of styles, shape language still counts! Edge vs curve still counts!

There is a difference in a character that is round, square, triangle, or a mix of them and how much, how many edges!

A character with a soft face, or another character that is gaunt, or a character who is broad and bulky! LOVE THAT SHIT

[ceilidho]

prompt: im also thinking of a very bad fic where ghost is taken pow for awhile and it fucks him up and he’s forced to see a therapist when he’s rescued but he’d rather use her p[] as therapy instead. tags: nsfw, implied/not described violence, slight dubcon, unprofessional relationship lol

-

It isn’t serendipitous that you meet; it comes because of a lot of bad luck and malevolence. 

He’s captured during a routine surveillance mission and spends three months as a POW in some shed in the Ural mountains. He comes back different. That’s to be expected. Trauma is an insidious thing that takes root under the skin, that twists and turns even in the dead of night. It’s a tunnel that gets tighter as you walk through it. It would be concerning if he didn’t come back that way. 

You know far too many gory details to ever feel truly comfortable around him. Not because of anything he’s done but because you can’t help the way the narrative builds in your mind when you look across the room at him. Even sitting on the prim and proper little sectional in your office, his body too big for the cozy little couch you picked up from some upscale boutique with your government paycheck, you can’t help but mythologize him. 

The official story is that four men were found dead when Simon Riley was finally extracted from the shed-turned-torture-room six months ago due to a bacterial infection that, luckily, Simon was not exposed to. The story’s flimsy even to your untrained ears; you may not have gone to medical school, but it just seems too perfect, too impeccable. When you push your superior for the truth, the look you get and the quiet “leave it alone” tells you far more than your paygrade deserves. 

Even knowing what you know, he shows up day one with the skull balaclava like some bone fortress that tells you before you even try, I am unknowable. You can try to cut me up and look inside, but this is all you’ll find—bone and bone and more bone.

He’s remarkably resistant to therapy, which is also to be expected; you aren’t at the stage in your career where you’re surprised that a man entrenched in the machinery of militarism won’t acquiesce to talk therapy. 

There’s a point where you want to try a new tactic, something to get to the root of what he’s hiding from you. So, you poke at it. You ask him to give you a five-minute account of the traumatic event, something that took place in the shed. 

“Which of those events do you dislike thinking about the most?” Your pen is poised over the pad in your lap. 

He raises a brow so high up that it disappears behind the mask. “How could I pick just one?”

His voice rumbles like tires over gravel. Sometimes your leg jitters when he speaks and it’s not your fault. You shut it down though because this is not a legend in front of you but a man, and you are in this room with him for a very specific purpose that does not include finding the sound of his voice attractive. 

You ask him again: “Which comes to mind first?”

Simon doesn’t answer you, but there’s a flash like quicksilver across his eyes and you catch it not because you’re looking but because he lets you. 

He shifts forward in his chair so that his elbows are propped on his knees and he’s leaning forward, closer to you than you’re comfortable with. You didn’t think to put a coffee table between the two of you. With other vets and active personnel, it’s easier without the sense of distance; makes them feel closer to you, vulnerable because it’s just skin, oxygen, and skin. 

With Simon, you get the sense that distance might be better. 

“What comes to mind first is that it was dark and I could smell the blood. I could taste it. But I couldn’t see it.” He doesn’t blink for as long as he speaks. You try not to let your breath shorten; you feel hungry for his truth the way a wolf hungers for the moon. “And it was dark and I could smell it; it was in my throat because I knew it was the only way out of there. I realized in that room that there is no righteous path but the one you take.”

Simon leans so far forward that his body glides up to stand and the pencil trembles in your hand when he takes a step close. He’s bigger looming over you, all brawn in the way military men often are, but sleek in his movements. You think of snakes or panthers. 

He breathes in. “You smell good though, love. Do you think we could start there instead?”

You open your mouth to reply, maybe even tell him to sit down so you can approach the question from a different angle, but then he’s on you, quick as he must have been that night. One big callused hand over your mouth and one knee on the couch, his other hand reaching up to pull the mask below his nose. You feel the warm press of it into the side of your neck and try not to struggle.

His breath shudders across your skin. You shake because you feel all the bone hidden beneath his frame now.

Simon’s hand is rough when it slides up your shirt. Pretty pearl buttons go flying; one rolls under the prim and proper couch. You only struggle for the first couple of seconds before professionalism melts away like a fine mist. Like you can do anything but look at him like a revelation. You stare at the pearl beneath the couch when he fucks you, legs split around his waist and you know it’s going to hurt in the morning. 

“If I’d known that you were waiting for me while I was in there,” he breathes, sonorous and rich, mask rolled up over lips bisected by a puckered scar, “I would have torn out their throats much more eagerly.”

[static-radio-ao3]

@jegulus-microfic // august 12 // prompt: jealous // words: 669 // mentions of alcohol

The music is loud, almost unbearably so, which means Regulus has to lean into Evan's personal space to talk to him. 

"I'm gonna get a drink!" He yells into his friend's ear. When Evan nods in acknowledgment, Regulus moves away from the dancefloor and towards the living room where he can breathe a little easier. When a hand touches his elbow, he startles, but he relaxes again when he sees it's only Evan. 

"Sorry, did you also want a drink?" Regulus asks. The music is not as loud anymore, so he doesn't have to get all up close and personal with Evan anymore. 

Evan, though, seems to not have gotten that memo, because he drapes an arm over Regulus' shoulder, leaning in to talk into his ear.

"No, but I thought it would be funny to see how much we can rile Potter up. He's in the corner practically seething."

Regulus turns around so fast he swears he feels something pull in his neck. And sure enough, there is James Potter. The strobing lights cast his warm skin in shades of pink and blue. Regulus watches him for a moment, and James watches him right back. There's undeniable tension there, but Regulus can't quite put his finger on it, his thoughts slowed with alcohol.

James has a death grip on the neck of his beer bottle and Regulus is surprised he hasn't shattered it yet. He's curious enough to go investigate, so Regulus shoves Evan off him and ignores his cackle as he makes his way over to James. 

To investigate. 

Obviously.

"I never pegged you for a jealous man, Potter," Regulus says in lieu of a greeting.

"Please," James scoffs with a roll of his eyes, "I'm jealous of the spoon that feeds you soup because it knows what your teeth look like."

Regulus startles at that. James blinks back at him.

"Shit, sorry, was that too much? My brain-to-mouth filter is on holication," James slurs. "Wait. No, vacaday." He frowns at the floor, seemingly trying his best to get his words right. In the end, he simply settles for, "Away."

Regulus clamps a hand over James' shoulder and steers him towards the kitchen. "Let's get you some water, shall we?"

James only smiles at him dopily, happy to go wherever Regulus goes. Because James wants to be near him. Because that's a thing, apparently. Because James gets jealous of other men being near Regulus. And God, if that doesn't make warmth unfurl in his stomach.

The kitchen is empty, so Regulus easily maneuvers James to the sink and grabs a cup from the drying rack before filling it up and handing it to James.

"There you go, Potter, a nice cool glass of water." 

James simply blinks at him, as if he's not sure how he got from the living room to the kitchen. He's about to turn around again when Regulus grabs his wrist, gently holding it to keep James from wandering off.

A sigh, bone-deep and weary, even though Regulus is just a twenty-something-year-old wrangling a drunk guy at a party. He wishes Sirius were here to do this instead, but both Sirius and Remus had conveniently disappeared about 20 minutes after the party started. Regulus rubs a hand across his forehead. "James, please just drink the water. You'll feel better."

"Oh, I like that," James hums. He sways a little, unsteady, but dutifully reaches for the glass.

"Yeah, I bet," Regulus says, happy that James is finally cooperating a bit.

"No, I like when you call me James," he says. "Sounds nice, James."  The small smile curving up the corners of James' mouth turns sloppy and mindless, as if the mere mention of his name in Regulus' voice is enough to make happiness overflow. And oh, if that doesn't do dangerous things to Regulus' heart. 

"Drink your water and I'll call you James however many times you want."

"And when I'm sober?"

"Yeah, James, I'll call you by your name when you're sober, too."

[lady-jay]

Day 9: Lend an Ear

Cross-posted on Ao3 under Blue and Silver Entry rating: T

“Ever miss it?”

The question is unexpected- an introspective thing suddenly broaching the darkened silence that has lingered since they doused the candles. Souji rolls onto his side to face his companion. The mattress needs restuffing, he thinks idly for the umpteenth time as his hip digs through the padding and into the wood beneath. Or perhaps he’ll convince Dacien to simply allow him to purchase a better made replacement.

“Do I ever miss what?” he asks for clarification, staring to where he knows the other’s face to be, despite that he cannot see it now.

Dacien shifts, his bare leg draping over Souji’s. It is too hot for blankets or anything nearer than this. The elezen’s skin is sticky with sweat, no different than Souji’s own. Skin slides against skin in a way that he once would have cringed from before he became accustomed to a far rougher life.

“What ye were before all this. Back when ye were jus’ a new thing, startin’ out, an’ no one knew yer name.”

Ironic, how Dacien seems to know exactly where his thoughts have been of late. After the Endsinger. After the End of Days. After Golbez and the 13th. What now? What could possibly be next for the vaunted Warrior of Light, savior of worlds? It’s a title he never wanted, but here he is. He considers the question quietly for a moment, listening to the waves against the hull and the softness of his lover’s breathing.

“More often, now,” he confesses, “It was easier to keep going when I had so little time to rest. It was always just on to the next thing…”

“An’ now ye have time to be nostalgic.”

Souji feels him lever up onto an elbow, his mass filling a different part of the space before him.

“Mm, I think so. I feel guilty, missing it.”

There is no judgement in Dacien. There never has been. Perhaps that was why it was so easy to love him within those first meetings. To trust him, despite his history of piracy. There are no expectations of anything extraordinary, no dangers of disappointment. The elezen huffs and long fingers brush over Souji’s head.

“No use feelin’ guilty, love. Yer life’s been a turbulent thing- no shame in wishin’ for a time when it wasn’t. We all do. Get through the storm and can’t help lookin’ back, at the way things were before.”

His touch moves to Souji’s cheek, lightly caressing over the sharp bone just beneath his eye. The samurai lets himself relax at the touch, at the sensation of familiarly calloused fingers on his skin.

“The world’s saved- a few times over. Ye can rest now. An’ if the storm ever revisits ye, ye can tell me ‘bout it.”

Ah, so this is what this is. Dacien is ever observant and direct, but still has trouble with what he might think are the softer aspects of a relationship. An offer of support, an encouragement to move on from the long run of crisis after crisis.

“What brought this on?” he asks softly.

The pirate huffs again, fingers tracing over his jaw now.

“Ye’ve been quiet- more’n usual. Been starin’ at the horizon without really seein’ it. Ye’ve got wanderlust now that it’s all over. So it got me wonderin’ if ye missed it- jus’ bein’ a small fish seein’ where yer feet took ye. Now yer a big fish, and ye got no direction for the moment…so I guess yer back to where ye started, in a way.”

Souji’s lips turn up in a small smile. He catches Dacien’s hand, tugging it down to where he can press a short kiss to his knuckles. The elezen doesn’t stop him, doesn’t even give the surprised grunt that had once followed Souji’s little shows of affection.

“I am. And what about you, Dacien? Do you also have wanderlust?”

He can picture the other’s grin, even if he can’t see it. The way it slashes across his thin lips like and flash of a blade, teeth bared and sharp eyes narrowing further, unearthly blue glinting against the grey of his skin.

“Always,” Dacien’s leg sides to wrap around his own, tightening to keep him in place, “Want to wander t’gether?”

The small smile widens and he presses another kiss to his lover’s fingers.

“Always,” he repeats, “We’ve yet to be on an adventure together.”

“S’ppose we’ll need t’ change that.”

Souji feels the air shift again as Dacien settles himself, apparently ignoring the way the new proximity turns the heat sweltering.

“We will,” he breathes, releasing Dacien’s hand to stifle a yawn, “We’ll talk more in the morning.”

An affirmative rumble is his only reply. Souji is still smiling as he lets himself drift at last. He is fortunate, he thinks, to have Dacien. Observant and pragmatic, perhaps one of the few who truly understands his need to constantly be on the move. And certainly one of the few willing to listen without shying away or expecting anything of him.  

[demonsandco]

Okay okay we know with their demon forms it requires a lot of upkeep now what do you think they would do and what they need help with. Cause what comes to mind is a family grooming session 😊

I love this ask thank youuuu. I wasn't sure if you wanted their canon forms, but this is mostly based on my own personal headcanons for their demon forms! I hope you don’t mind that :) It would be much easier for them to handle their insane forms, but what's the fun in that?

Before I start, all demon horns need constant maintenance. Demon horns never actually stop growing, so routine sanding, usually with a custom shaped whetstone, is important to keep horns smooth and to keep them from getting too long. Without proper care, horns can easily become overgrown and asymmetrical, as well as gain a rough, dry and almost scaly texture, which is rather uncomfortable for the demon in question

All other forms of upkeep vary from demon to demon, depending on what features they have (ei. scales, feathers, fur, hair, etc.).

Lucifer

Lucifer's horns are rather easy to reach, curling forward along the sides of his head, so it's fairly simple for him to keep them maintained himself. It's something that he does often, especially because neglecting them could easily impact his image. After all, it's common to see him bring out his demon form to intimidate others, and he wants to make sure he looks well put together. Caring for his horns is not much different than shaving his face in the morning, nothing more than a quick and simple part of his routine.

The thing that actually gives Lucifer trouble is his wings and tail. General self care is something he can handle easily, but feathers naturally wear down and need to be replaced, which means molting. Molting leaves him feeling absolutely miserable. His entire back starts looking patchy and he feels itchy and irritated all over, but he can never seem to properly reach the areas giving him trouble himself. His pride tends to get in the way of asking for help, so he's often left to suffer through it until the new feathers finish growing in.

Lucifer would need to trust someone quite a bit in order to let them help, but it's always a huge relief to have that itchiness soothed by a caring hand. Most often, Mammon ends up being the one to help out. Not only is the second born the only other one who still has feathers, but he's also very skilled at reading Lucifer's moods and telling when he needs help. They never speak about it afterwards, but it's a much needed binding experience for both of them.

(The rest are under the cut)

Mammon

Being a model, Mammon takes very good care of his appearance. Unfortunately, no matter how many times he does it, his horns always give him an insane amount of trouble. They're very tightly coiled and rest at a slightly backwards angle, making it difficult for Mammon to reach the inside parts of his horns. It's not uncommon to see him sulking his way over to Asmodeus' room for help with those hard to reach areas, after spending hours trying to do it himself and failing.

Other than his horns, Mammon has it pretty easy. Like Lucifer, he has to deal with molting, but it never seems to last too long for him, much to the eldest's envy. His wings are also featherless, so molting is nowhere near as uncomfortable for him. The only big feathers he needs to worry about replacing are the ones on his tail. The rest are much smaller and less irritating to regrow.

His wings and other featherless areas do need extra care, though, in the form of moisturizing. Without protection from feathers, those areas get dry and cracked easily, especially if he goes flying. To deal with it, he's got a pretty big collection of scented moisturizing lotions and oils that he can pick from, most of which were gifts from Asmodeus, since they have similar wings.

Leviathan

Levi's demon form is rather unique compared to his brothers. Instead of having true horns, he has antlers. Rather than needing constant care, his horns grow to their full size, shed their outer layer of skin and then eventually fall off to start the process again. Levi often goes to the ocean to isolate himself when his horns are ready to fall. He usually lets them sink to the bottom, where they take the form of the devildom equivalent of coral, providing shelter for aquatic life.

On top of shedding his horns, he also sheds his skin. His sheds are entirely determined by his horns, happening once when the antlers are full grown and ready to lose their protective, velvety skin, and again later on when they're ready to fall. While his antlers' life cycle is reminiscent of a deer's, the shedding of his skin is very similar to a snake's shed. It's not hard to tell when Levi is close to shedding. The old skin begins to separate itself from his new scales, giving him a dull gray sheen over his body and his eyes begin to look dull and glazed over.

It's definitely not a pleasant feeling and he can't see very well through the skin either, so he tends to avoid his brothers. High humidity is also needed for him to shed properly, so if he can't go hide out at sea, Levi's going to lock himself in his room and soak miserably in his bathtub.

Satan

Satan's self care routine isn't too difficult, but it's definitely the most time consuming and he absolutely hates it. He's not the most patient demon, especially when it comes to tasks that he thinks are wasting his time. When it's time for him to maintain his more demonic features, Satan needs to put aside an entire day for it.

Satan's horns are easy enough for him to handle. The inside part of the sharp curve of them often gives him some trouble, but he's nothing if not stubborn, so he usually manages to sort it out on his own. Horns on their own are rather time-consuming to care for, but what really takes up all of Satan's time is the multiple other horn-like protrusions along his body, as well as his tail. He's got boney spikes in the areas that his bones are closer to the skin (elbows, spine, ribs, jaw, etc.) and, like regular horns, they're constantly growing.

Whether he likes it or not, he always ends up needing to ask someone for help, and that someone usually ends up being Asmo. Not only is the process tedious, but he also has a very hard time reaching the spines on his back properly, so a helping hand is very useful.

Asmodeus

Unsurprisingly, Asmo has a very in depth routine that he follows to a t. Every week, he sets aside an evening to take care of his horns and wings specifically, sanding down his horns to keep them smooth and shiny, and moisturizing his wings with oils and lotions to keep the skin supple and soft. Being related to scorpions, Asmo also has a carapace in his true form that resembles the exoskeleton of actual scorpions. It doesn't need much extra care, but he always makes sure to keep it bright and polished.

The downside to his carapace is that it can't actually heal unless Asmo molts and completely replaces it. He's not the biggest fan of molting, but he'll force himself to molt early if he gets scratched or hurt in any way. He can't stand the thought of any part of him looking dull or banged up.

Overall, though, Asmo definitely has his self care handled perfectly. He's also very particular about how things are done, so he's very hesitant to let anyone else do it for him. He does, however, love helping his brothers out with grooming and self care. Especially the ones that he knows are likely to neglect themselves without a proper push.

Beelzebub

Beel's self care leaves much to be desired. He's completely horrible at taking care of his demonic attributes, but he often forgets about it or runs out of time. It's not uncommon for his horns to be rough and chipped or for his insect-like carapace to look dull and roughed up, especially with how aggressive his sports matches can get. Between school, working out, fangol and his constant hunger, regular upkeep gets put on the backburner.

Luckily, Beel and his twin often partake in allogrooming! They both find it easier to take care of each other, rather than themselves. This is especially helpful when it comes to Beel's horns. They curve so tightly along the sides of his head that he can't actually fit his hands between the horns and his skin to smooth them out. Belphie, on the other hand, has much smaller hands and can easily reach around and sand them down, while Beel takes care of him in turn. They rarely talk during these moments, but it serves as good bonding time for the two of them.

Beel's carapace is something he can handle himself, mostly because it doesn't really require anything. Like Asmo's, the only way for his carapace to "heal" is for him to molt and replace it, which he puts off for as long as possible. It's thick and hardy and since he doesn't put much stock in looking perfectly put together, he doesn't worry about it all that much. Whenever he does feel the need to molt, it goes by pretty quickly and he's back to his regular schedule in no time.

Belphegor

Belphie is honestly the worst at taking care of himself. Not because he doesn't care, but because he has such a hard time gathering up enough motivation to even get up in the mornings, much less put in the effort to look nice. If no one steps in, he can go days at a time without brushing just the hair on his head. Even on the days that he does that much, chances are that he didn't bother brushing the rest of his fur, too. After all, if he just doesn't show off his demon form, then no one will notice right?

Luckily for him, Beel does notice when his twin hasn't been caring for himself. While the rest of the brothers only need to worry about their demon forms every other week or even just once a month, Belphie needs to do it daily because of his coat. Without proper daily care, his hair gets oily and matted together very easily, which only makes it harder to deal with later. Beel knows that that's a lot to handle and often steps to brush out his twin's coat, even if he doesn't need any help in return. It's much easier for Belphie to feel motivated enough to help groom Beel than it is to care for himself, so their joint grooming helps them both.

On a similar note, Belphie has quite a bit of trouble with his horns and he constantly puts off taking care of them until they begin causing him physical discomfort. In the past, there's been a few times where he's let them grow a couple extra curls before they started weighing him down so much that he had to take care of it. With his twin's help, and a strictly imposed schedule, his horns haven't gotten that bad in ages, but they still tend to be rather rough most of the time. He also needs to sand down his hooves in a similar fashion. Normally, they'd be maintained just by walking on rough surfaces, but Belphie definitely doesn't walk around enough for that.

If Beel's not around to help out, Belphie has no qualms with playing the baby brother card and whining until one of the others agrees to help him. He's always willing to groom them in return, though, so he usually gets his way pretty easily.

[sweettodo]

Animals ⟿ Levi Ackerman x fem!reader

Includes : cockwarming, smut, swearing, riding, slight praise.

Word count : 1,8k

An, ik this is short. But I’m down bad yall. I am so dick deprevied it is just sad. ANYWAYS. Also I couldn’t think of a good title bc this is just smut w no plot??

Levi was not the one for pda, quite the opposite- no surprise there; he hated kissy couples who laid all over each other like idiots. It was really disappointing when you were more or less ignored besides meal time throughout the day, where in the dining hall we would be able to have some conversation.

You sat across from him at dinner, the smoldering heat from the summer evening which kept you all from wearing your normal uniforms, you wore a white tank top with some random shorts while Levi looked incredibly sculpted, his pecs and abs filling out a tight-ish short sleeve shirt, sweat slightly sticking to his arms, restricting, that- that tight...

“Oi, staring much?” My gaze snaps back to his dark eyes, deadpan face and all. You smirk and roll your eyes, his eyes fell deep into yours; he bit his tongue in anticipation of what you were planning next.

“Sorry, Captain.” You drag, with that slight whiney undertone you purposely allowed to slip from your lips. he scowled at you, obviously irritated at your childish behavior, you playfully kick him under the table, Hange eyes you from the corner of her eyes, smile planted on her face. Everyone knew you rarely called Levi ‘Captain’ and the only time you did was- quite frankly- in the bedroom.

She turns to face Levi, her smile only growing when she sees how irritated he looked, “why the pout ‘Captain?’” She laughs teasingly, patting his shoulder. It was all fun and games until you don’t expect the sharp kick into your calf, you jerk backwards and wince, followed by a hiss and you stand, your legs hopping over the bench and as you pass Levi, you feel his eyes burn holes into your backside. Steering yourself across the halls and finally down to Levi’s office with the adjoining bedroom, sneaking into the office; making sure no one saw, you close the door behind you in excitement; your stomach giddy knowing you did a sufficient job planting a little bug in Levi’s ear; enough to get the ball rolling.

One thing no one knew, a surprising fact that left you baffled the first time you had heard it; Levi was a switch. At least when he felt like it. It came in handy when he didn’t want to do any work.

He liked to watch you get yourself off and use him like a toy.

Slowly walking around his perfectly neat desk, the infamous Levi walks in, slamming the door behind him. While he stood there, you continue strolling around the wooden desk, fingers lightly trailing across the smooth finish of his desk, “do you think you’re subtle? Practically moaning my title in front of our peers?” He grits, walking over to his bedroom door, opening it and standing there waiting for me, “get on the bed. Now. This is what you wanted right? To piss me off enough?” I slyly walk by him, ignoring his tantrum, my fingers once again trailing across his immediate tensed stomach. He shuts the door behind him and watches you sit on the bed, legs hanging off the side.

It didn’t take long for the air to quickly become thick in the moderalty large room. Your neglected pussy throbbing at the idea that it was about to be packed to the fucking brim.

He slips off his shirt whilst standing in between your legs, you gulp and look up at him. Suddenly grabbing your jaw, a tight grip which you quickly realized he wasn’t going to make this any easier for yourself, “I’m gonna get on this bed, and you’re gonna ride me.” You blink innocently, incapable of nodding from his freakish Ackerman strength. He shoves you off his hand, your back hitting the bed, your hand raising to your jaw and rubbing the tenderness.

Unbuttoning his pants, kicking them off his thighs and propping himself against the rustic wood headboard, you slip off your top, followed by your shorts, you approach him to straddle him, starting to throw a leg over his waist.

But before you can do that...

Grabbing ahold of your hips, he begins manhandling you, turning you around to reverse him, “that’s unfair.” You pout, his hands dragging up and down your thighs, applying a loud slap against your right ass cheek, your cunt clenching as he slaps you again with his hard calloused hand.

“What’s unfair? What’s there to look at if you’re facing me?” He chuckles, you crane your head back to look at him, a smug look on his stupid face.

You bring yourself up and deciding to give yourself a little pleasure. You find yourself bringing your clothed heat against his hard cock, grinding.

This. This, for certain Levi could not resist, he allows you to give a little friction, knowing he wouldn’t allow it to go on for too long regardless, “I wanted to look at your face.” You hum, whining your hips slightly against him, his mouth falling dry.

“Tch, show me what you can do, yeah?” His hands massaging the small of your back, gripping and kneeding tightly as you sit up only a little, leaning down so you can snake your hand between your legs and releasing his dick from his boxers with one hand, he uses his two fingers to move your underwear to the side, adjusting so you can ride him.

Your hands grip his thighs, the curve to your back which he looked at, your shoulder blades rolling, fitting him into your cunt, your head moving almost erratically as he stuffs you, “so fucking wet, how long have you been like this princess? I fucking love it.” He praises, his hands still helping you up and down still at a slow pace.

“All day Levi.” You admit, he lets out a little ‘hm’ in response, he was just so fixated on the way your hips and thighs moved while on top of his slightly sweaty body; the sound of skin sticking together was echoing throughout the bedroom.

His hand lingering up your spine, reaching for your hair, his fingers entangling into your roots, grabbing hard and yanking your light headed - head back, he sits up and brings his head right to the crook of your shoulder, you stop thrusting yourself up and down momentarily, “I love it when you sit pretty on my cock like this, mh’ could be like this all fucking night.”

You can only wimped in response, walls uncontrollably flexing and twitching around his cock which sat nested in you for what felt like forever, with his hand still in your hair, he used his free one to weave around to your front, slipping into your underwear, you gasped and cried out, panting like a fucking dog as he plants firm and pressurized circular motions around your clit.

You couldn’t move; body being help down on his dick, you couldn’t even squirm underneath him, “Such a feign for my cock aren’t you? Tell me what you want.” You could’ve cum right then and there.

“Bend me over.” You begged, he picks up the pace of his three fingers which spun crazily around your bud, his fingers becoming soaked. He completely ignored you, “fuck! Levi!” You wail, your pussy twitching, eyes rolling back, still restrained over his hard on. Thighs twitching as you feel the slick of your cum bathing Levi’s already drenched cock. His fingers had slowed tremendously, working you through your first orgasm, he releases his fist from your hair and your weak neck drops down and you breathe, you wanted him to fuck you now.

“You better not move. I’ll fuck you when I’m ready.” He growls, feeling you attempt to lift your hips back up for any type of thrust; which he stopped.

His hand leaves your slit, you groan in frustration, “Captain, please bend me over.” You whine and plead once again.

This time it works, he quickly pulls out and pushes you onto your elbows, he gets on his knees, lightly slapping your shoulder, motioning you to turn your face towards the head frame as he stood perched behind you; your head in the pillows as he kicks open your legs with his knee, pushing down against your hips so he could look at your throbbing pink pussy, screaming to be fucked.

“I shouldn’t even be touching you right now.” He grits, angling himself against your cunt, sliding back in, it truly stung, the time he spent sitting inside you only heightened those nerves, they exploded when they came into contact. “Annoying me like that? You think you deserve this?” He insults, contradicting his words with his slow thrusts, crying into the pillow, his tight grip which held your legs in place, he’s pulling your hips towards him; fucking you onto his dick.

“I-m sorry Levi.” You moan, he smacks your ass, the stinging sensation onto going straight to the most sensitive area. You were so close to releasing again; luckily for you Levi wasn’t they type to stop you. Loud moans being somewhat silenced by the pillows yet didn’t block all the sound. Levi, who is drilling your hips onto his, he stops and switches roles, him doing the pounding.

Levi’s hand grabs ahold of the headboard, watching you fall apart under him, arm and back flexing beautifully as your cum juiced down his cock. You were so fucking wet, wetting his thighs and your own from the skin to skin contact.

With one hand placed roughly on your back, the other on the headboard, he wastes no time gaining momentum and fucking you absolutely silly; fucking you till’ you were seeing stars when you closed your eyes.

Your weak hand reaches for his moving body and you keep it on top of your tail bone so you could touch his stomach as he thrusted back and forth into you, the tips of your fingers touching him was enough for you to orgasm.

Not to mention the headboard banging back into the wall as well- which neither of you paid any mind to-while he was assaulting the absolute fuck out of your cunt. Your tears and drool which have destroyed the pillow are no match for the amount of cum and sweat that both you and Levi had soaked the sheets with. You two fucked each other like animals, you two could be going all day and night if you didn’t need the sleep for the coming day.

Nor did he care about pulling out, not even warning you, or even himself for that matter- he’s catching himself unloading a thick load deep into your squeezing pussy. His grunts filling the room; followed by a repeated ramble of your name. You had lost count to how many times you had cum, which came to no shocker when it was Levi.

He stays inside you, his sputtering thrusts, he panted as he still kept you full and warm with his softening cock, not wanting to feel cold, stubborn about the fact he needed to stop fucking you at some point. People were bound to have heard the banging headboard and wailing, which you and Levi would be hearing about with the neighboring headroom and office... Hange’s room and office.

He finally slides out of you, entertained at the sight of his cock covered in slick. You lift your head up and throw yourself onto your back, whilst Levi is doing the same. He looked a mess, glistening with sweat, hair either sticking to his forehead or little pieces even clumped together; with his cheeks red, mouth slightly open with heavy breaths from his chest- he was a hot mess, but you didn’t even want to know what you looked like.

“Let me pee and we go again Captain Levi?” You tease, body perking up, he looks up at you and smirked, nodding and as you roll out of bed, he slaps you hard against your ass, you jump and scurry to the bathroom.

“We don’t have anything to do tomorrow anyways.” Levi mumbles as he stands up to follow you to the bathroom.

[equestrianwritingsstuff]

Okay... please continue the Bad things Happen Bingo where the tortured supervillian was found in the rain by hero. It was soooooo good.

Aww I am so glad you enjoyed it!

Muddy Rain Part 2

Part 1

Warnings: description of wound tending, needles, broken bones, implied touch starvation, unconsciousness, drugged state, past torture

*not edited*

~

Supervillain drifted in and out of consciousness like a tide, rising to awake fullness then sinking back down to sleep. He was hardly aware of anything, even his own consciousness, during these intervals, other than the pain and the cold cloth on his forward. Every once and a while, he would realize blearily that something of living matter also inhabited the thick air he breathed.

Color seemed to be a whirling tornado. There was no set hue in the ever changing pallette, just the dull mixture of burgundy, gray, and the occasional green. And they never stayed still enough for Supervillain to pick about the various shades like hunter green or lime green.

After a while of watching and calculating the dizzying madness, Supervillain gave up and his brain determined the color to be brown.

Sometimes, he would be more acutely aware of the bodily throbbing throughout his being and other times it seemed to be lessened. During the extinction periods, Supervillain noticed- now this took him a while to recognize- that his body seemed to be floating as if he was suspended in the air while, at the same time, a more pronounced lightheadedness would occur.

Placing these two together, distantly he came to the conclusion that he was being drugged.

He didn’t quite link the absence of pain to the theory yet, that type of thought process was too complicated for his foggy brain cells to muster.

During the times of unconsciousness, that he slowly learned to be appreciative of, he wss thrusted into intense and confusing dreams filled with words and actions that he only somewhat remembered when he would come to.

But probably the most utterly baffling thing about the whole ordeal was the words spoken to him during consciousness.

Muddled, yes. Incoherently spoken, yes. But it was a comfort that Supervillain sought out. He could sometimes feel his vocal cords rumbling from whatever sound they produced in reply to said words. And, after the sensational purring ceased, his skin would shudder under a warm touch, before muscles involuntarily leaned into it.

But it wasn't like Supervillain dreaded his reflexive movements. No, it was quite the opposite.

He enjoyed the warm feeling in his slow beating heart.

《~~》

Hero tried to keep Supervillain cool as her newfound ward battled with fever and pain and all sorts of inflictions of his weakened body.

A damp, cold cloth found its home on his sweaty forehead as bags of frozen peas and carrots were buried into the creases of his neck and under his armpits. All an attempt to comfort and try to lower his rising temperature.

Though one may claim that thr effort was in vain. Supervillain writhed and squirmed under the invisible hellhound's breath. When alseep, eyelids would twitch as brows furrowed in discomfort. Hands clenched as whimpers escaped his hoarse throat, raw and pained.

During moments in which Supervillain was awake, he would melt into whatever touch Hero would offer him. His skin would shudder, Hero assumed it was do to the pain of her fingers on his sensitive skin more than semi-conscious reactions towards touch.

That would be assuming that Supervillain was touched starved, which would imply loneliness, and then in turn it would mean that he either lived alone or tortured for a long time.

And judging by the state of his shattered and utterly broken form, the second of the two was the more likely option.

Hero tried to keep him on a heavy and consistent dose of very, very strong painkillers. Every few hours, she would administer a needle to his elbow's vein, granting him an easier sleep. Though, based on his obvious distress, it seemed as if it only alleviated a small fraction of the agony.

Both of his legs were bound in large casts and elevated by a mound of pillows. His bare chest was wrapped in bandages to help support his shattered and bruised ribs. She was very worried that the bones were piercing his lungs, but she couldn't tell. One must hope for the best.

She stitched up the nasty gash on his temple right after she set his broken legs- an agonizing process that Supervillain passed out immediately from- and tried to use icepacks to lower the swelling and soothe the bruise.

Hero spread some carmex on Supervillain's lips. She hoped that it would heal seal the millions of tiny cuts and disinfect the big gashes.

Just then, Supervillain's eyes fluttered open. He groaned, his dull gaze shifting across the room.

"Hey bud," Hero ran her fingers over Supervillain's greasy cheek. He looked at her, eyes squinting, before leaning into the touch.

Hero smiled, bringing her hand to carress the back of his head. Tears slipped out of the corners of his eyes. Tears that meant either pain or joy or sadness... or all three at once.

Soon, Supervillain couldn't stop crying. He sobbed, chest rattling like a maraca as mucus streamed out of his nose. Hero grabbed a tissue and dutifully wiped it away.

Then she reached down and hugged him, mindful of his broken clavicle, until he fell back alseep.

[delightfulvoidstudent]

FFXIVWrite2022 Prompt #8: Tepid

CW: Smoking, sexual innuendo, flashbacks, violence, ARR conversion type spoilers. A bit of male toplessness at the end.

Fenris stretched, slightly, feeling the subtle shift of muscle and bone, the ache of joints not quite ready to have crawled from bed. A glance back confirmed the sheets were still a mess, a tousled mop of hair and limbs still dozing where Fenris had left his partner, exhausted after a long night. For the best really. Rubbing his thumbnail against the inside of his forefinger provided dull sparks, and he reached for the pack of vapor sticks even as he strolled out onto his balcony. The motion was an affectation, he knew well enough, and yet he continued to do it, just another little quirk of his behavior, picked up somewhere between there and here, then and now. A single stick pulled free and settled against his lips, the pack tossed on the table to await his pleasure, like so many things did now. Another scrape of nail against flesh and he settled his elbows on the railing, leaning back to regard Ul’dah’s skyline, the slivers of moonlight and star strewn velvet that peeked around the adobe and brick edifices. A breeze gusted from somewhere, tepid against his skin, and he exhaled into it, a cloud of blue-grey smoke, lofted up, away from Fantasia’s walls. 

As it usually did, in these moments, the question surfaced, bubbling upward from somewhere he usually managed to keep buried under a multitude of all his favorite vices. Alone, in the dark, no flesh, no alcohol, no noise to drown it out, he had to ask himself if the breeze was really tepid. If the wind even now licking at his spine and shoulders was hot, or cool, the breath of a oven, as Asti would claim Ul’dah’s day time breezes felt, or the cool whisper of a soft cloth when you were fevered, like Hel used to wipe his forehead with, when they were children. Memories, all of them, the actual sensation lost somewhere in the crush and din of battle. His eyes focused on the black tint of his nails, lacquer, if asked, but somehow deeper, duller, matte, a color no alchemist could achieve. His mind dove deeper, to the last time he remembered feeling heat on his skin. 

The Plains. They had a real name, he’d never cared to pronounce it. It always came out wrong, the vowels soft in his mouth, as they should be; yet still somehow incorrect, marking him as other, as different, and it had just been easier to stop saying the name altogether. They’d sacrificed everything to be there, and it had never been enough. Toward the end, though, it had ceased to matter. The light had become impossible as the second moon continued, burning, ever descending, even as the surface cracked. The fighting had been as impossible as the light, as though both sides knew the futility of it all with the lunar surface crashing ever closer. Which was a lie. Fenris had seen enough of the faces under those non-descript helmets to recognize zealotry. Whatever they’d been told, whatever they’d been sold, the other side had belief. Maybe not hope, but something like it, a faith so powerful it burned through logic and simple questions like ‘am I fighting other humans over land they already occupy’ or ‘don’t they also want to live’? He exhaled, and took another long inhale of smoke. Not that the side they’d been fighting for had done much better. They’d had hope though. Well, most of them. He’d left his hope, his something to believe in, somewhere in the dark night they’d left home. A slow stream of blue smoke, up, into the night sky. 

It had been terrible, in a thousand ways, and he’d had nothing to live for. He’d burnt through the markings on his clothing, spent every drop of aether woven into the fabric. He’d been hot, then cold, then hot in turn, flinging fire and ice, lightning and occasionally balls of pure void with a heady disregard for self. He’d actually burnt out two of his tattoos, pulling aether through the ink so fast that to this day they remain charred remnants of their former glory. He could even remember, at one point, licking ice from his lips despite the explosions and fire raining down around him. He’d gone down to one knee, left hand pressed to the ground, fingers in the dirt, as though he could rip the mana for one last spell from the soil itself. Maybe if he’d had any training in the white, it would have been possible. As it was, the dirt under his fingers was fundamentally dead already, aether drained from the sheer number of spells being flung across it, over it, and soaking back into it through the conflict. He’d had the almost whimsical, and certainly inappropriate, thought, that the ground here would be blood and aether stained for generations as he stared into the maw of the reaper-class magitek that was charging up for the shot that would end him. 

At least, he’d seen his end in the subtle glow. Something had trickled into his fingers, at that moment. A familiar scent, taste, feeling. Hel. The grit around his hand had carried the soft touch of his twin to him, warm, healing, even as his older brother descended like a shot out of the fire torn sky. Blinking, he stared in dull wonder, his brain lukewarm soup from the magic he’d been hurling about, as Auberi had flipped back to where he knelt and slid an arm under him, pulling him to his feet. He’d said… something. Fenris had never been sure what. His eardrums, he’d later been told, had been shattered at one point, either by the noise of the battle or by his own misuse of magic. The healers had been quite happy to tell him everything he’d done wrong that day. The only reason, they said, he hadn’t lost more than fingernails to the creeping black that stained them was his clothes. Mere tatters, but he’d pulled through the threads, burning them, blackening them rather than himself. The ashy remnants of his tattoos begged to differ. The fact that, to this day, he could feel neither heat nor chill, begged to differ.

A hand on his abs shattered his reverie. Brought him back to the here, to the now. To this moment, in Ul’dah, not so far away but malms and years distant. A touch as tepid as the breeze, more pressure than feeling. He knew, logically, it was warm. It had to be. A slow smile, hair still tousled with sleep, eyes blinking in the soft light of the night. “Can I have one?” It took Fenris a moment to shake Carteneau from his mind and realize what the request was for. 

“Mmm, no, I think not.” A slow reply, gaze sliding over the mostly naked form. “They’re terrible for you, you know. Besides, I can think of much better uses for your lips.”

[starlightsearches]

Hello friends! It’s my birthday tomorrow so I just had to write something ridiculously self-indulgent that’s been on my mind non-stop. Here’s a second part to this ficlet that I posted the other day, and I’m already anticipating that there WILL be a smutty, smutty third 😏

Requests are open ✨

Armitage Hux x GN! Reader

Warnings: PINING, ANGST, unrequited love (or is it? 👀), language, sexual references, the shortest case of fake dating anyone’s ever seen and a cliff hanger ending! also I wrote this really fast so please don’t be mean to me if it’s bad

You don’t expect to wake up alone.

You know it’s silly, the moment you reach for him and can’t find him, but still—you reached. You expected him to be there, and he wasn’t.

You don’t leave the bed until the sting in the back of your throat dies down.

He’s already dressed by the time you’ve crawled from his sprawling mattress and padded your way into the refresher. He doesn’t hear your soft footsteps, maintaining steady eye contact with the mirror as he slicks his hair back with the help of a comb, and it’s easy for you to forget again that this doesn’t mean what you want it to mean.

“Good morning, general,” you say, if only to stop yourself from pressing a kiss to his cheek in greeting instead, “how did you sleep?”

He meets your gaze in the mirror as you approach, resting your hands against the edge of the sink. It’s easier to look at him this way, when you know he’s looking back. Your acting is much better when you have an audience.

“Well,” he replies, dropping his gaze from yours, rinsing the gel from his comb. You wonder if he just wanted an excuse not to look at you, “very well.”

“I’m glad.” Silence permeates the room; he still won’t meet your eyes.

“I’ll leave you to get ready, then,” he says after a moment, tapping the droplets from his comb before shutting off the water. You press yourself closer to the sink when he walks past, letting the hard stone bite into your thighs so that his shoulder won’t brush yours. As soon as the door closes, you regret it.

You expect him to be gone again, when you exit the refresher, ready for the day, and again you’re surprised—this time to find him sitting in the small kitchen area, sipping on a steaming cup of caff and scrolling through some document on his data pad.

“Did you want something to eat?” he asks, half way out of his seat before you shake your head, preparing a cup of tea for yourself and joining him at the table. It’s a pleasant way to start your morning. You feel no urge to fill the comfortable silence, a moment of peace before the rush of the day.

He clears his throat once he’s drained his mug, and you look up. He’s nervous—fidgeting in his seat—and that makes you nervous. Like you’re about to be reprimanded.

“I appreciate your help,” he begins, eyes zeroed in on his own hands, delicately folded and resting on the table in front of him, “and if it’s not too great a favor . . .”

He doesn’t finish the thought, just looks at you with stormy green eyes, needy in a way you’ve never seen before, and you’re sure you’d walk barefoot over broken glass if he asked it of you.

“If that’s what you need, general,” you say, taking a sip of your tea to clear the desperation from your voice, “like I said before: I want to help.”

He nods, pressing his lips together firmly in a weak attempt to hide his smile, and you can feel your heartbeat in your ears. “Call me Armitage, please. I think we can forgo formalities for the time being.”

You whisper the name back to him, smiling around each of the syllables.

You part ways soon after that; he heads to the bridge and you make your way in the other direction to one of the maintenance hangars, ready to check up on the progress the crew has made on repairs to some of the damaged TIE fighters salvaged from a recent skirmish.

You’ve only just arrived when you feel a nudge at your shoulder, turning just in time to grab the cup of caff unceremoniously dropped into your hands by your friend, Mai.

“Good morning to you, too,” you say, adjusting your grip on the cup, returning her cheeky smile. Ever since Mai’s promotion to chief maintenance officer you’ve seen less and less of her, but it’s hard not to feel at ease when she’s around.

“Thought you might need that—” she says, nodding to the caff, “after your late night.”

She punctuates the sentence with a friendly wink, but your blood has already turned to ice in your veins. How could she possibly know about that?

She sips her own caff, reading your mind before can manage a sentence. “Security droid flagged you as a potential risk, since the general doesn’t get many late night visitors. Isa was on duty and he may have mentioned it in the commissary over breakfast.”

Gods. Fuck. The commissary at breakfast—he might as well have announced it over the damn emergency comms. The whole ship was bound to know by now.

“So, how was it?” she nudges you with her elbow again, and you try your best to control your breathing.

“It’s not what you think, Mai.”

“Oh, come on. Don’t give me that shit, I know how you feel about him.”

She doesn’t, not really. She knows what you’ve been able to tell her—that you think he’s handsome, the way you have to dig your nails into your palms if you want to stay focused when he’s speaking in a meeting. But you’ve never been able to talk about the way it feels when he walks into a room, never had the words for how badly your hands ache whenever he’s within reach, knowing you’re not allowed to feel his skin underneath your fingers.

She doesn’t know what it felt like to finally fall asleep with him in your arms, after all those nights of dreaming.

“It was good,” you say, before you can think about what you’re implying, the way you know she’ll interpret your words, “different than I expected, but still . . . really good.”

“Oh my gods! You have to tell me everything! What was he like? Are you going to see him again?” She grips your arm in both hands, trying to shake the information out of you, and you can’t help but feed off her joy, even if it’s misplaced.

“You can’t tell anyone about this, Mai,” you warn her, as stern as you can manage. “I don’t want this blown out of proportion.” More than it already is.

“Don’t worry, love, my lips are sealed. Just like yours are going to be around his—”

You punch her in the arm, hard, before she can finish that thought. It’s going to be a long day.

By the time you finish the inspection, you don’t have to ask who knows. Everyone you walk by does a double-take, at least, and a few even stare outright. tiny slivers of guilt start to gnaw at your heart. You shouldn’t have encouraged the rumors; you should have tried your best to set the record straight.

The bridge grows quieter as soon as you enter, all eyes on you, frantic whispers breaking out across the room as you move towards the place where Hux stands at the helm.

“Excuse me, general, but I was hoping I could speak with you in your office for a moment? It’s urgent.”

He raises his eyebrows as soon as he notices you, shocked expression only lasting for a moment before he smooths his features. He must not know what everyone’s been saying.

“Of course.”

The two of you walk silently towards his office, and you can feel your heartbeat in your hands. What would he say, when you told him? Would he be angry with you?

Would he want you to stay away from him?

The door shuts behind you, and the lack of air in his office is stifling, but you do your best to steady yourself with a few deep breaths. He deserves to know.

“Someone saw me visiting your quarters last night,” you blurt out before he’s made it behind his desk—it’s easier to tell the truth to the back of his head.

He freezes, turning to face you. There’s nothing in his expression, no hint of anger or confusion that you can find, and you’re not sure how to proceed.

“Oh?” he asks, still as stone, watching you with almost frighteningly calm eyes.

“There’s a rumor that’s going around, people are under the impression that we . . . are involved. Romantically.”

He raises his eyebrows again, a faint blush spreading across his cheeks, “oh.”

“Yes, well—I just thought you should know what people were saying, in case it, uh, came up.”

He frowns now, still frustratingly cryptic. You want to know what he’s thinking. If he’s embarrassed. If he wishes it were true, like you do.

“Do you know who started the rumor?” he asks calmly, taking a seat behind his desk, and you shake your head.

“I’m not sure,” you lie, chewing on your lip. He sits quietly, fingers steepled in front of him. You recognize the look—he’s strategizing.

“If you’re going to continue . . . helping me, like you did last night, then I don’t think it would be wise to try and quell the rumors for the time being—unless you find that objectionable.“

You nod, too quick, too eager. “Alright. If that’s what you think is best. Alright.”

“Alright.”

“Then I guess I’ll see you tonight, general,” you reply, already moving towards the door, mentally flagellating yourself for your lack of decorum.

“Armitage,” he corrects you, so quiet you almost miss it.

You stop, smiling to yourself, “right, sorry. I’ll see you tonight, Armitage.”

              ----------------------------------------------------------

There’s less tension, when you return to his quarters that night, less awkwardness. You move around each other comfortably, sliding between the sheets together. He only hesitates for a moment when you pull him closer, wrap your arms around him. His breath tickles against your collar bone, his satisfied hum vibrating through your chest.

You won’t be able to survive this. You can’t spend the rest of your life living for the moments between waking and sleep. You can’t wake up alone again.

“Armitage,” you whisper, shaking him awake, shifting away from him so that you can see his face.

“What?” His eyes are already heavy from exhaustion, hair falling against his forehead. He almost glows in the dark, pale skin dotted with freckles like an inverted night sky.

You kiss the sleep from his eyes, pressing your lips to his until you can feel his pulse race underneath your fingers. He’s frozen against you, stiff with shock as you trace the shape of his cupid’s bow with the tip of your tongue. He tastes like mint, but he feels like a sunrise. You’ve never been awake until this moment.

“I don’t want to pretend.”

AN: Thanks for reading, friends! I have to mention that I was very inspired after reading @generalthirst‘s fake dating oneshot which has been on my mind non-stop from the moment I read it! (and you can find it here!)

Hux Tag List: @theredwolfisalesbian, @thembohux, @writingletterstothefire, @catboykenobii, @missmadwoman, @evarinaandlat, @sitherin-mxschief, @imafatassmess, @toasterking, @rosevon7975, @holdurhuxbby, @armitages-galaxy, @dark-lord-of-the-simps, @daughterofaries, @mad-girl-without-a-box, @aramanna, @theold-ultraviolence, @mrs-ghuleh, @lemongingerart, @isthisheaven5, @trash-queen-af, @generalthirst, @tobealostwanderer

Join my tag list here!

[1-800-seo]

1-800-SEO presents: — Where Is My Mind?

genre: dystopia/slight angst/escapism

pairing: Johnny Suh/Gender Neutral Reader

warnings: IV’s/needles, intravenous use of narcotics, bad coping mechanisms, alcohol use, depictions/descriptions of poverty to a degree, implied sexual activity, dreams

word count: 2506 words

in affiliation with: @127-mile ‘s

drive in fic collaboration

summary: Based in a future where your wildest dreams can be lived in for a few hours through intravenous methods, vices and virtues blur. Scraping by is all you can do, and escapism is all you live for. Maybe that will change when you meet him. (Loosely based on Inception.)

The familiar haze of mental fog clouds your mind, it coats the edges of your thoughts like a viscous syrup. You find yourself in a wheat field, the golden crops stretching for as far as the eye can see ahead of you. The swirling breeze passes over your hands and you feel it tickle, a sensation you’ve not felt in a long time. After taking a crisp piece of the surrounding plants into your hands, you feel each and every texture it offers with a fingertip. It’s not like you’ve ever touched real wheat before, you want to imprint it to memory. With the piece of crop still in your dominant hand, you turn your head, body following its arc too, and your eyes meet a cottage. The building just exudes a comforting energy, it's homely even when your real home is nothing alike. The trees that are positioned off to the side of the cottage provide the right amount of shade, one side of the house has full direct sunlight and the other is gently shaded, but in a comforting way. You drop the wheat and make your way over to the cottage. As you make your way up to the front door, following the perfectly placed path, you take in the smell of the decorative flowers that adorn the surrounding gardens. The smell of real flowers is something you’re not used to. Finally upon reaching the door, you outstretch your hand to grasp the door handle. The moment your skin makes contact with the sun-heated metal, a blinding hot white shoots across your vision, and pulls you out.

Waking up is never easy, but it’s not like you’re not used to it. The moment you open your eyes you are met with the same dingy apartment as almost every other wake up. Your arms feel weak from lack of circulation as you reach across to pull out your IV. It doesn’t sting, you’ve done this so many times, it’d be surprising if it did. As your eyes adjust to the light you start to make out the time, it’s displayed on the heads up view of your plexi-wall, and reads 11:36PM. Stars, it’d been 7 hours since you last ate, and your body is definitely letting you know as it starts to wake up from its lulled state. You shift your wobbly legs away from the crusty office chair you were sitting on and begin to make your way over to the food dispensary. You hold your palm over the sensor as a silver sachet slides out and into your palm. You make quick work of depositing its contents into a bowl and mixing it with hot water, your hunger spurring you to be swifter.

Before you know it, all of the food has been devoured, your stomach full, and the night is ready to be conquered. You have no desire to leave the flat, nothing calling you besides money to leave the (lack of) comfort of your home. But of course, money always beats out desire, and so you hastily put on your shoes and proofed jacket, grab your safety umbrella and backpack, and leave. Things had to be paid for, and your credits were seriously running low, if you wanted to continue with your expensive hobby, it meant scrounging. You’re not dumb, you knew that daydreaming wasn’t a cheap, safe, respectable, or even remotely healthy hobby to have, but at this point it was escapism, freedom from pain, and so you’d do anything for that sweet peace.

Once you’re at street level, you put up your umbrella. At this point it’s better to be safe than sorry, the acid rain warning that you saw on your dash ringing out in your memory. It never used to be like this, acid rain was once unheard of, but in the last ten years pollution came to the point that even the water cycle couldn’t be trusted. That’s the joys of living in urban scum, you think to yourself. Your ears register the faint sounds of sizzling rain droplets on your umbrella and you're grateful for it now. Your pace quickens, and after a blur of around 20 minutes walk, you arrive at your workplace.

Workplace was definitely too light of a word to call the building that stands before you. The imposing structure juts out into the dark with brightly coloured lights on its each corner, signalling its presence, as if it was easy to miss without the lights. The commonplace sound of thumping bass echoes about the street for meters, and it only gets louder as you walk up the stairs and into the building. A sign reading ‘Sondaero LivingSpaces’ greets you, but you know full well the people here are barely living. Oh no, this type of place is home to some of the most prolific daydreamers; well, the most prolific for the underground scene. You step through a set of large doors and out into the main courtyard. It’s an indoor park, filled with neon bioluminescent plants, and jarringly placed speakers. If this was any other establishment, the sea of ravers surrounded by people daydreaming on cot beds would be jarring to you, but you’re so used to it that you couldn’t care less; or more so, you’re plainly desensitised to it.

You find your way out onto the dancefloor and surround yourself with people - the more people the better, it just makes your job easier. Safely hidden in the palm of your hand is a biometric chip you crafted yourself. Implants are a little drastic in your opinion, especially when cosmetic, but this was a necessary thing to you considering it earnt you money. The function of the chip worked like this: every person is assigned biometric numerical values by the government of their country, this is to make controlling their finances easier without having a physical device like a debit card or a mobile phone. Instead each user is assigned these numerical values based on their facial bone structure, and the chip's job was to scan this using minute sensors. All you had to do was simply wave your hand in the direct vicinity of their face, and await results - those results being the chip draining their bank account of credit and depositing it into yours. The waving part is complicated in normal use, but when at a club, where wild dancing is the norm, it makes hand movements so much less conspicuous. As you imagine the small amounts of money gradually making its way into your account a man approaches you to your side.

The guy has long-ish dark brown hair, with eyes of the same colour and a tall stature. He begins dancing near you, slowly moving closer and closer towards your vicinity. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t attracted to this man, he was objectively good looking, and the smirk he was wearing on his face was hard to ignore. Before you know it, he’s leaning in your ear and shout-whispering: “hey, do you wanna get a drink with me, angel?” The confidence in him to skip all normal greetings is astounding to you, but in some ways that makes him even more attractive to you, so you whisper-shout back “yeah!” and lead him over to the bar by the elbow.

After you have a few drinks in you, dancing becomes thoughtless, and swaying and grinding on the nameless man is even easier. “Yo, what’s your name?” You ask over the pulsing beat. His response is a finger trailing up your spine with the words ‘Johnny’ leaving his lips. Maybe those disquieting thoughts aren’t only silenced by daydreaming, maybe this could be another outlet. That thought curls in your mind, the wispy tendrils of a coherent thought fading like a misty night.

A few more drinks in your systems leads you to going home with the man, but your memories fade away as the night (or should you say early morning?) carries on. It passes by in a blur and the next thing you know you’re being startled awake by a cat sitting on your chest, with an unearthly headache.

Once you finally manage to extricate yourself from the cat’s grasps, you sit up and immediately notice the sleeping form of Johnny next to you on the tatami, his chest rising and falling with each breath. As quietly as you can, you tiptoe up off the tatami floor, acknowledge the ache throughout your entire body and move towards his kitchenette for a glass of water. Unbeknownst to you, Johnny apparently has a rudely noisy water purifying outlet attached to his faucet, and it decides to make itself known the moment you hover your palm over the on sensor. Johnny quickly stirs awake at the noise, and he sleepily opens his eyes in your direction.

“Wha-what’s going on?” He asks, squinting as his dark eyes adjust to the light. “Oh, I’m sorry, I was just trying to get some water.” You respond, tottering back over to the tatami, glass of water in hand. “Um, I’m sorry, I don’t really remember much of last night, did we uh- what did we do?” You’re aware your question was haphazard, but the incessant hangover looming in your head has your thoughts less than clear.

“If you are wondering if we had sex, the answer is yes, but the only thing I remember is waking up covered in… unsavoury stuff...so that certainly was a way of knowing how. I also know that apparently at some part of the night we decided to dream ‘cause I had to tidy up the gear earlier, but to put any worries at bay, I’m clean and vaccinated so...yeah.” He finishes the end of his sentence, trailing off. Well, at least the mystery man is somewhat of a gentleman, and he’s not gonna give you anything nasty which is always a good thing. You realise his late night cleaning must’ve turned to yourself at some point considering you are somewhat dressed and clean, but you can’t find it in you to care, you’d come to this shameful point so what did a bit of aftercare matter.

“Oh ok, and thanks for letting me know. I’m clean and fully vaccinated too.” You respond, unsure how to act around him. Perhaps he feels your apprehension, and in answer he pats a spot on the tatami next to him, just away from his cat too. You make your way over to the spot, feet padding on the floor as you go. “Your cat’s cute, they decided to sit on my chest this morning. Despite knocking the breath out of me, they’re pretty charming.” Johnny’s eyes widen at this knowledge before throwing his head back and letting out a hearty laugh. It’s somewhat comforting to hear such a genuine laugh; it takes your mind off the world of insincerity around you.

“I apologise for Ten, he gets cuddly in the mornings.” Johnny picks up his cat to give you more space, Ten’s legs sprawling wide in the air before being put down to safety.

There’s something so warm and familiar about Johnny’s presence, it has you naturally leaning into him, and his arm comes to rest around your shoulders as your head gently leans on his chest. The feeling is just so warm and despite knowing you don’t know him well, it almost feels like you do. It feels like a lover long lost, and now he has returned a warm feeling spreads throughout your chest. It’s almost inexplicable, and if you were to try to justify it to anyone other than yourself, a wave of embarrassment would certainly wash over you.

Looking down at you, he meets your eyes, and they seem somewhat fond; not what you were expecting to see. “Do you fancy dreamin’?” He asks, still maintaining eye contact? “Hmm, sure, hopefully I’ll remember it this time.” You reply with a smile and he reciprocates.

Before you even open your eyes you’re met with the sensation of skin on skin. Beneath your fingertips you feel, what you suppose is a firm chest, and when you open your eyes your suspicions are confirmed. Your hands are resting on Johnny’s taut chest, and of course this is what an unscripted dream with the two of you looks like. You feel that you are naked too, and his hands rest gently around your waist, a relaxing gentle weight reassuring you he’s still there. You meet each other’s eyes and the tension is palpable in the air. He dips his head down and kisses you, lips melting together with ease. His hands move from their placing and trail down to cup the small of your back, your bodies meeting infinitely closer.

The two of you move together like jigsaw pieces slotting into place, there’s no conscious thoughts, only the two of you existing in this dream space. Part of you can feel Johnny’s thoughts swirling as you share the hazy unstructured scape. There’s hints of lust mixed with a sleepy mindset, probably left over from waking up moments ago in the real world. He’s set on being a lazy lover right now, selfishly devouring you with no haste in any of his actions, just taking these moments for himself. He can feel your thoughts just as much as you can feel his, he knows you’re feeling relaxed with him and he’s pleased at that, he knows how good you feel right now and he’s proud. He wants to use all of this time to make you feel good. You’re both in agreement that losing yourself in each other is ever so easy, and so you both fall into the other's grasps.

The second time you wake up, Ten is resting on your feet, warming them from the slight chill of the room. Johnny had roused quicker than you, and he’d already removed the IV from your arm. You spot him winding up the fluid bags and putting them into the insulated case they reside in. “How are you feeling?” He asks whilst disposing of the needles in the marked sharps box. “Good, lighter than usual. I’ve enjoyed spending time with you, albeit mostly imaginary.”

The floaty feeling remains in the forefront of your consciousness. Despite feeling lighter, less burdened, you’re aware that you need to change your vices. Constantly daydreaming, forming relationships through them, isn’t healthy. Continuous escapism isn’t a way to live; numbing yourself over and over again won’t solve anything. With a new fervor to gain meaning in your life, you rise from your place on the tatami. “What are your plans for today, John?” You ask, perhaps vices and meaning aren’t that different from each other.

long time no see! this is my penultimate fic :(( hopefully u guys enjoyed it! I know it’s not like my usual style and is somewhat offbeat but I hope it makes sense hehe <3

[the-modernmary]

always been a storm || hotchley (ch 1)

summary: Lots of people wondered about their love story. How they met, how they fell in love, and even how they fell apart. Haley likes to tell their story from end to beginning. Aaron tells it from the beginning to end. Somewhere along the way, they meet, and it always ends with a goodbye.

Author’s Note: This is inspired by the musical The Last Five Years, so I will be following that format. If you aren't familiar with it, it is told in opposite chronological directions from both character's POVs. So Haley's POV will start at the end of the relationship and move backwards, while Hotch's POV is going to start at the beginning and move forward. Hopefully it should be clear as you read. Also, since the writers couldn't decide how old Hotch was, I sort of played around with the years/canon timeline. But canon is just a suggestion anyway.

read on ao3

Haley - 2009

Haley Brooks once told her sister about a boy who kissed her at the Pirates of Penzance cast party. She had said that she could see herself with this boy for the rest of her life and, when the couple got engaged five years later, Haley told her sister that she just knew that she was going to love this boy until the day she died.

Haley Hotchner never could have expected it would end like this: a serial killer, gun pressed to her temple, on the phone with her husband — ex-husband — and no way to protect her 5-year-old son, the little miracle she and Aaron never thought they were going to get.

“Tell Jack I need him working the case,” Aaron says through the phone, voice shaking, and Haley has no idea what Aaron could possibly mean by that.

“What?” she asks, even though she knows it’s futile. Years of chasing down serial killers and getting into their minds has made Aaron paranoid. He has backup plans for the backup plans of their backup plans. He has safety plans for anything that could possibly go wrong, some that even Haley doesn’t know, and this must just be another one of those plans.

Aaron repeats himself a little more forcefully, and that’s when Haley knows it’s over for her. At least Aaron is still alive, and not dead like she had been told he was. At least Jack won’t be completely orphaned. It was a small comfort.

 If Jack survives, her brain reminds her unhelpfully, but she pushes that thought down. For all of Aaron’s faults, he’d never let anything happen to Jack. And if the only person Aaron saves is Jack, then Haley can die peacefully. 

  When she hugs Jack, she doesn’t even realize how tightly she’s holding him until he tells her, and it’s with reluctance that she loosens her grip. Logically, she knows it’s safer for Jack to go off and do whatever Aaron told him to do, but the motherly side of her brain is screaming to hold her baby boy to her chest and never let him go. She can keep him safe and protected from the world, she just knows it. She’s protected him this long from the reality of the world - fed him stories of villains and superheroes to try and explain where his dad was and why his dad so often woke up in tears - so she can do it just a while more.

And if she can’t protect him, she selfishly wants to keep Jack close to her for a little longer, for both of their sakes. For Jack, she wants his last memory of her to be one of happiness and love — a final hug from his mom who loves him so, so much. For Haley, well, she needs that last bit of bravery. Aaron keeps telling her to be brave and to not show The Reaper any weakness, but she’s never been that person. She’s always been the emotional and dramatic one of the marriage.

(If she had more time, she might have considered that, no, she actually wasn’t the dramatic one and that up until the bitter end, she had been reasonable and willing to compromise, and it was Aaron who believed the weight of humanity was on his shoulders, despite the fact that he was nothing more than a man. But no one would ever believe that Aaron Hotchner was overemotional, and like most things, it’s just easier to put it on Haley.)

As if reading her mind, Aaron’s voice cuts through the silence. “You’re so strong, Haley, stronger than I ever was,” he assures her, and she can’t find the right words to say, not when her mind is racing a million miles a minute.

 She thinks of her sister, her best friend in the whole world, and how she never got to say goodbye. They had been planning on taking Jack on a weekend camping trip when Haley got pulled into WitSec. There had been no fanfare, no tearful farewell. Just a nondescript car from the hospital to a nondescript building where Haley Brooks went to disappear. She wasn't able to tell Jessica that she loves her or to thank her for everything she had given up for Haley. Now Jessica was going to lose her little sister.

And her dad… God, the last thing Haley did with her dad was fight with him. It was something so stupid, too — Roy had insisted on Jack going into Pop Warner football even after Haley had told him multiple times that she didn’t want Jack starting in such a high contact sport so early on in his life. They had gone back and forth on it for close to an hour before Haley had stormed out in tears because if she had to hear one more word about “Jack needs to develop tougher skin” and “he should be around more male figures, it'll be good for him” as if it was Haley’s fault that Aaron didn’t make it to see Jack the past two weeks, she was going to lose it.

God, she was so bone-deep, achingly exhausted of everything always being her fault. 

“You’ll hurry, right?” she asks, eyes never leaving the Reaper. He’s stalking across the room, gun hanging lazily at his side.

 “I know you didn’t sign on for this,” Aaron starts, and it’s not lost on Haley that he avoided her question.

Still, she doesn’t need an explicit answer from him. The Reaper is behind her now, his hot breath creeping down her neck and the column of her spine, meeting perfectly halfway with the tip of his gun. “Neither did you.”

The conversation somehow switched from comfort to a goodbye without either of them ever realizing it. “I’m sorry for everything.”

The cold steel of The Reaper’s gun nudges against Haley’s back. A braver, tougher person than Haley might have fought back - might have elbowed him in the gut and kicked him where the sun doesn’t shine and escaped - but Haley’s accepted her fate. All she’s able to do now is grip the phone a little tighter. It’s the closest thing she has to holding Aaron’s hand one last time.

“Promise me that you will tell him how we met,” she starts, and her voice becomes steadier and more confident than it had in years, “and how you used to make me laugh.”

“Haley…”

She thinks back to the Aaron she met in high school - tall and lanky and smiling despite already feeling like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. She hadn’t seen him smile in so long. Aaron always believed himself to be a protector, and Haley knows that he already blames himself for Sean and Gideon and Spencer. God only knows how far he’ll spiral after this.

“He needs to know that you weren’t always so serious, Aaron.” She takes a grounding breath and says the next part to him directly, hoping that he’ll understand what’s unspoken. “I want him to believe in love. Because it is the most important thing. But you need to show him. Promise me.”

There’s a long pause that makes Haley’s stomach drop. A million things still need to be said, but she can’t bring herself to say them. She can’t even think, not when she hears the click of The Reaper’s gun cocking. She can’t be brave any longer.

The air in the room seems to get thinner, and Haley gasps desperately to try and get a breath while tears stream freely down her face. She’s going to die alone and Aaron and her son are going to hear it and oh God, Jack is going to be in the house with Foyet and nobody to protect him. Her one job as a mother is to protect her child and she’s going to die a failure. 

They both know what’s going to happen next, but in his own bit of stubbornness, Aaron doesn’t say goodbye. It’s not what she wants to hear, anyway. He decides to give her comfort, a promise that he’ll see through her final wishes, although it’s not the first promise he’s made and broken. Haley wishes she could go out believing him.

BANG

Haley cries out in pain, falling to her knees as white hot pain spreads like a fire through her abdomen. The phone drops out of her hands, but that doesn’t stop her from calling out for Aaron. 

“Aaron… Aaron, help me… Please,” she begs through tears. She wants to hear his voice again, to tell her that it’s going to be okay and that he’s about to burst through the front doors and save her. She wants to hear him say goodbye and that he loves her. 

All she gets is silence from Aaron’s end. The only proof she gets that he’s still on the line is the rumble of the SUV he’s in. Black spots dance in the corners of her vision, so she can only barely make out the Reaper towering above her and the barrel of the gun being pointed towards her face.

Haley calls out for Aaron again, unable to say anything but his name through her sobs. It’s useless to beg for her life, she knows that, yet she still tries. Tries to reach out to him and tell him how sorry she is. Sorry for not being stronger and for not protecting Jack. 

The Reaper raises his gun, and Haley immediately wishes that she had said more to Aaron. She wants him to know that she never stopped loving him and that she doesn’t blame him one bit and that if she had the chance to go back, even knowing how it all was going to end, she absolutely would because Aaron is all—

BANG

[sp00kyjellybeans]

Constant Pining [Mickey Altieri x reader]

A/N: I wanted to write something cute tee hee. Lmk if you guys want a part two to this because this was supa fun to write and I might continue it. Gender neutral reader by the way!

Word Count: 2,089

Warnings: College drinking

---

Mickey entered the lecture hall with a bounce in his step. It was his third class of the day and by far his favorite. Well, second favorite. A good runner up alongside his film class. As soon as he passed through the doorway with his folder in hand, his eyes fell to where you sat in the middle of the lecture hall. 

You were writing in your planner, five minutes early to the class as always. Mickey approached and realized you were clueless about your surroundings. Students would shove past to find a seat and you didn’t even give them hum in response.

Mickey grinned at this. He crept up behind your hunched figure and grabbed both of your shoulders, shaking them violently. 

“RAHH!!” He growled. Instead of a scream, Mickey earned a hard glare. You furrowed your eyebrows at the boy, not saying a word. “Really?” He said, exasperated. 

“You messed up my planner. I was writing something.” 

“Seriously. Not even a squeal?” Mickey dropped into the seat next to you. 

You cracked a smile, “I saw you coming. I thought about acting surprised but... I like making you work for it.”

“I’ll scare you one day, I promise you that.”

“Oh, I bet you will...” You chuckled, turning back to your planner. 

Mickey’s smile grew wide, watching your precise yet comfortable mannerisms. His glance lingered until he felt a small hand tap on his shoulder. 

“Mickey... you’re in my seat,” The film student turned to see Halley with a hand on her hip. His face drew back into a look of confusion.

“What? This isn’t third grade, we don’t have assigned seats.” 

“Maybe not but I like sitting next to (Y/n). They take good notes.”

You turned your head to watch your friends bicker. It was entertaining.

“Then I will use that to my advantage,” Mickey said and turned back to face the front. 

Halley huffed in frustration. Once she realized that Mickey wasn’t going to move, she rolled her eyes and grabbed Mickey’s shirt collar. The fabric squeezed his throat, making him jump up in surprise. Halley took her place quickly before he could do anything else.

Mickey placed his hand around his throat, glaring at the girl in front of him. “Jesus Christ son of Mary... You’re brutal...”

“Don’t mess with me, Mouse,” Halley said, not giving him a second look.

The sound of bells rang from campus meaning class was to begin. Any seats near you were taken, so Mickey was forced toward the back of the hall. He dropped his head in defeat once the professor entered.

“Did you really have to do that?” You whispered. “I mean- ...it was funny don’t get me wrong but he wanted to sit next to me.”

“And I want to pass this class,” Halley said. You pursed your lips. “Besides, this adds for a nice build-up.”

“Build-up?”

“For when he finally gets the guts to ask you out. This makes him want you more.”

“He does not want me!” You gasped. 

“Yes he does,” She grinned. “He’s staring at you right now.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do. If I’m right, you have to come to the Delta Theta party tonight.”

You glared at Halley, “That’s Mickey’s frat house. No way. You know they get rowdy.”

“Just look!” 

You rolled your eyes, complying, and took a tiny peek at the back of the lecture hall. There sat Mickey, his head rested on his hand and looking right at you. 

The boy was in a dazed state, his eyes falling onto the back of your head in the minutes prior and he had forgotten to pull them away. Your hair was gorgeous. It fit your head perfectly. You had a really nice neck. 

The wave of your hand snapped him out of his trance.

Shit!

Mickey sat upright in his seat. He totally just got caught. Shit! Shit! Shit! His sudden movement scared the living daylights out of the students next to him. Realizing he caused a scene, he dropped his shoulders in embarrassment. Just relax, he thought. He was staring at you like a creep. No problem.

He waved back. There, that was good. You took it well. Now you’re looking away. All is well.

If he could, Mickey would have slapped himself silly on the spot. This wasn’t the first time he was caught drooling over you. All of his friends and frat bros wouldn’t let him drop it. Not since the first day of school. They could tell that his crush on you grew bigger as time went on. They would remind him of that.

And hell, he wasn’t the only one who thought you were a sight for sore eyes. He could specifically recall Randy Meeks scheming up a plan to ask you out, but the little weasel never got the courage. Other people have thought and tried but you always turned them down.

Mickey never bothered asking you out on a date, despite his strong feelings. He considered himself smooth and confident up until the idea popped in his head. What if you turned him down?

Now, a year had passed and as he feared... he was in the friend zone. He couldn’t be happier about how close you two were... but he wanted more. 

Mickey rubbed his face in exasperation. He needed a chance, he thought. Staring at you, waiting for results, won’t get him anywhere.

Since Halley’s assumption was correct, you were coming to the party. You mentally cursed her eyes that sat in the back of her head. The sound of the party blared through the wooden door in front of you. It was fine. Just a party. You don’t go to parties, but it’s fine.

You creaked open the door since it was left slightly ajar, and looked over the sea of dancing college students. This was unlike anything you’ve been to in months. At best, the most action you’ve seen was the tame cocktail mixers that sorority’s hosted.

Pushing through the crowd you made it to the backyard of the frat house. There was a pool and a few tables set up for drinks, drinks, and more drinks. Some people were even swimming. 

You scanned the crowd in hopes of finding one of your friends. Halley was nowhere to be seen, great. You let out a sigh, turned back to the sliding glass door where you had entered but stopped dead in your tracks.

Mickey stepped through the glass pane, also looking around. His hair was messy but cute and he was wearing a t-shirt that was a little tight. It squeezed the biceps you didn’t know he had. 

That was a lie. You knew very well that he had muscles.

One of his friends approached for some awkward greeting and he grinned. He smiled his toothy smile that made you melt. He was so casual yet sexy.

Goddamn you, Mickey. 

Oh no! He was coming this way! You placed a hand on your head and looked around viciously. You desperately needed to act casual. Nearby sat a table of shots. You snatched it and downed the liquid. It burned your throat but it managed to calm your nerves. 

“(Y/n)!” Mickey’s voice called out. “I didn’t realize you were coming tonight.”

“Neither did I,” You clapped your hands together. “Halley convinced me.”

“Awesome...” He smiled. Damn that smile. “You wanna dance?”

This is where you felt every pulse, every organ in your body freeze in motion. Dance? Did he just invite you to dance?

“Uh-”

“If you don’t want to-”

“No! I mean, yes... I do!” You smiled sheepishly. “Let’s dance...”

Mickey nodded in satisfaction and gripped onto your hand to drag you back into the frat house. On the way, you snatched another shot off of a table for some liquid courage, feeling the tension release from your muscles. A warm feeling spread across your chest.

On the outside, he was keeping it cool, smooth, as he always was. But the instant the word “dance” tumbled out of Mickey’s mouth, his heart was pounding a mile a minute. A part of him wished he was not sober right now. It would make this a million times easier. But he feared he wouldn’t enjoy it as much if he weren’t. 

The lights in the living room had dimmed since you first arrived. The music had definitely become louder but it was darker, the only light drawn from a lamp and a rainbow disco ball on the floor. You and Mickey were able to see each other’s faces clearly, only since the two of you were squished in the crowd of dancing college students. 

The colors on your face flashed from red to green to blue in the room, igniting a flame inside of Mickey. Your eyes shined a different way with each color. The rainbow surge that danced on your skin was breathtaking. You were breathtaking, he thought. 

“I can’t really dance that well,” You said, now realizing the mistake you made. 

“What?” Mickey yelled. The music was too loud.

“I’m terrible at dancing!” You matched. Mickey laughed, dropping his head next to your ear, his fingers touching your elbows to bring you closer to him.

“Let me show you,” He said normally. If the room wasn’t so loud, you wouldn’t have given this a second thought. But hearing his deep voice, his breath hitting your ear, break the deafening sound of music made you shudder. You nodded, looking back at him with those big eyes. 

Mickey’s hands traveled from your arms down to your hips. He pulled on the belt loops of your jeans to bring you closer to his body, “Is this okay?” You bit your lip and nodded once more. “I’m going to guide your hips...”

His large hands rested on a respective hip bone and rocked them side-to-side to the beat of the music. The song was a medium pace, a consistent beat to follow. Perfect for this moment. You looked down to see his waist matching the speed of yours, but never made contact.

“See... Easy.” Mickey said. 

He loved touching you. His hands were melted to your lower body. Everything about this felt just right. The spinning lights, the music, the lack of space between the two of you. Everything was loud and nonstop but at this moment all senses excluding sight and touch were lost. Mickey expected you to reject him before he got this far. But you didn’t. Could that mean something? Were you okay with him touching you like this?

The film student inclined his head instinctively, your own was tilted upwards for perfect leeway. Your smell was potent. Intoxicating even. It lured him in. Mickey found his nose nearly pressed against the tip of yours. 

“Holy shit, (Y/n)! At a FRAT party?” Randy Meeks slurred, landing his hand on your shoulder. “This is like seeing Bigfoot..... or some shit-”

You guys jumped away from each other, snapping out of whatever was about to happen. Mickey’s moment of ecstasy was shattered. By Randy fucking Meeks. A drunk Randy Meeks.

“I know,” You chuckled nervously. “What a surprise.”

“I totally-” Randy hiccuped between words- “Meant to ask you this sooner.... but we need to go see the next Alien movie. It’s the third out of the franchise.... and I know you LOVE sci-fi.”

Little did Mickey know, you felt the same side effects of that moment. Although you loved Randy’s geekiness, this just wasn’t the time. You wanted to shoo him away but here came another obstacle.

“(Y/n)! There you are...” Halley squealed, drink in hand, “I thought you’d never show.”

“Here I am...” You said in a sarcastic sing-song voice. Mickey was the only one who noticed your tone.

“Come here, I need to tell you something!” Halley said and yanked your arm. “Sorry Mr. Pink, but I’m taking them with me. See ya...”

“Just... glad you know the reference,” Mickey called after you two, which neither heard. He stuck his hands in his front pockets and glared at Randy. “Really?”

“What?”

“I was totally-” Mickey snapped but stopped himself from yelling. He pressed his hands against his face. “Never mind.”

Mickey ditched the geek, threading a hand through his hair. He stood in the backyard frustrated. He wanted more than anything to dunk his head in the glowing pool in front of him. But instead, he snagged a shot of tequila off of the table, letting the drink burn his throat.

So close. He was so close. 

[pleasantanathema]

Graves into Gardens | Reiner Braun x Reader | Chapter Two

Chapter Two: Sins of the Past

Pairing: Reiner Braun x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Warnings: Modern AU, spoilers up to season four, slight manga spoilers (only by including characters met later), captivity, mentions of violence, mentions of character death, enemies to lovers, angst, and eventual smut (don’t worry, it’ll come sooner than you think).

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: As promised, here’s chapter two! Chapter three will take a little longer to come your way as I have a final thesis due in a few days. Also, I promise that I’ll give answers to things that have happened in the past between Reiner and reader. Just gotta wait for the right time to reveal it all. 💕

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          Reiner laid flat on his back, chest twisting with melancholy as he eyed the lazy ceiling fan. He couldn’t sleep even if he tried, not with the day’s events still so fresh in his mind. Everything happened too quickly, a whirling rush of movements and decisions that left him caught in a purgatory of past and present. When Zeke had kicked your head into the floor, Reiner instinctively put pressure on the trigger of the gun squeezed too tightly in his hand. He wondered if things would be easier if he had taken the situation into his own hands and not let you live to torment him another day.

           Though, he knew the ghost and the guilt would haunt him even more than your living presence.

           That saying was rolling around in his brain, the one his mother always used to recite whenever he’d get into mischief as a child, be sure your sins will find you out.

           Well, they had, and one of his biggest regrets was now asking him about fucking Marco Bott. How long had it been since he heard that name? The Scouts had stopped muttering it even before the boy’s blood ran cold. He still remembered the smell of gun smoke, remembered how Bertie had fallen into his chest and cried at the horror of it all.

           But there was nothing new to be said about that past, yet even still, Reiner feared that you already knew what had been left unsaid.

           He hadn’t even bothered to undress, just let his weight sink into his mattress until his restlessness got the better of him. He knew his agonies would call to be smothered, that his frustrations would lead to him marching down the same hallway to face the inquiries of an equally troubled mind.

           He debated going to Zeke first. He knew his comrades would still be up in the meeting room, sleep and disgust in their eyes. Last he checked in, the Chief had Bertie scribbling on the whiteboard as he threw out all the notions and ideas that they had on how to break you down, on what you could possibly know that would be of interest to them. Reiner hadn’t stayed long enough to watch the black ink dry—he didn’t want them to pry into his time with you. He’d told them just enough: you didn’t give him anything worthwhile other than admitting you might speak if you were fed information from their side as well. When he’d left, the last thing written out in bold letters was a list of lies to feed you.

           Reiner was going to end this shit. One way or another, you were going to disappear from his life again; he was going to throw you back into the sea of the past where you belonged, dead or alive.

           A sick pride boiled inside of him as he saw the shock and fear spread across your pretty face as he threw open the heavy metal door. Good, you should be scared of him.

           He spoke your name with a bitterness he’d become too familiar with, dragging a chair from against the wall to sit directly in front of your iron cage.

           He’d only been gone a few hours, yet you already looked more tired, a little more frail, like if he screamed too loudly you might melt into a puddle where you sat on the floor.

           Too much time alone with nasty thoughts can make you weak, that much he knew all too well.

           He cleared his throat, cracking his knuckles beneath his fist, “Listen to me. You talk now, and maybe I’ll be merciful and kill you quickly before the others get the chance to come pick at your bones.”

           “You know my stipulation, Braun,” he watched your eyes narrow, determination coating your voice, “answer my question and I’ll answer yours. Let me die knowing the truth about—”

           “There is no truth about Marco.”

           “I know you had something to do with it. I kept finding holes in your story, and now that I know who you really are, I have no doubt that there’s something you aren’t telling me.”

           An angry sigh rushed out of his nose. He didn’t know what he was thinking coming back here so soon, why did he ever suspect that you’d ease up on this issue? He should’ve known that all your disdain for him began when that idiot got himself killed.

           “Marco was cute and clumsy, you know that. He was in the wrong place at the wrong—”

           “No, he wasn’t!” you sat up on your knees, shackled hands shaking, “I trained that kid myself. I know he knew how to use his gear; I know he wouldn’t just…he couldn’t have gotten into that situation alone.”

           “You’re running out of time. Stop wasting your breath on something as useless as Marco Bott.”

           He could tell there were more words brewing in your mouth, but you were swallowing them down.

           Reiner leaned his elbows on his knees, burdensome back hunching as he debated what to do here. He watched you closely for a moment, saw how you were constantly shifting your weight, fidgeting with the cuffs around your wrists. Bruises were blooming on your skin, especially around the tender flesh of your fingers where he had crushed them earlier. A vile mixture of remorse and compassion spread down his nerves at the sight of you.

           “My friends don’t know I’m here,” he admitted, observing how your still brilliant eyes looked up at him.

           “I was once your friend, you know.”

           You spoke the words so slowly, so dolefully that he actually felt them begin to pierce at his heart.

           “We were never friends.”

           That much, he knew, was a lie.

━━━─── • ───━━━

          “Reiner,” your tongue pressed against the back of your teeth as you stared into his golden eyes. He felt dangerous, fingers mean against your flesh, digging into your thigh, petting at the column of your throat.

           But you felt protected, secure, your hands threatening to tear at the buttons of his shirt from how tightly you clung to him. You craved a comfort that you’d come to find from being pressed against his body.

           “I’d kill someone for you, I hope you know that.”

           You wondered if the same memory was playing in his mind, behind his older, more noble face. You felt them, the sins of your past, like a heavy string binding the two of you together in this cold room. You knew there were feelings you could tug on, emotions that could have you both tumbling to the floor and wishing that the past could be washed away. But there were too many scars, too many faults that bound you together, wounds that time could not heal.

           And you knew your time was running thin.

           Selfishness reared its ugly head. You wanted to live, you needed to get back to Paradis, back into the arms of the people you loved. You didn’t want to die because of your stubbornness, or out of some forged loyalty that you knew friends would even give up if it meant being together one last time.

           “We know about the arms trading,” you conceded, head hanging low.

           You heard his chair scrape against the floor as he sat to attention.

           “How?”

           You thought about all the carefully considered words that you’d played in your mind earlier. You couldn’t give too much, but you had to lay enough on the table to make yourself valuable, to perhaps make yourself trustworthy. You needed to sprinkle lies into the truth, give a little in hopes of taking a lot.

           “Not everyone knows. It has been an investigative project I’ve been working on with Erwin and Miche…” you sucked in a deep breath, eyes closing, “we only figured it out because it came up as we were inquiring into the legitimacy of the President of Paradis. We’re pretty sure he’s a pawn, that there’s some untouchable group of aristocrats pulling his strings and ruling the nation from the shadows.”

           You waited patiently to see if he had any remarks, but the brooding man before you stayed silent. You could feel the weight of his gaze, scrutinizing, curious, perhaps disappointed that you’d be willing to give away secrets so easily.

           “That’s what you can give to Yeager. Tell him that…tell him that I’m tired of working and killing for a government that I can’t trust, whose true intentions I don’t know. Tell him I’m willing to work with him.”

           “And why would he be interested in that? You’re much more valuable as an information source than an agent.”

           You finally lifted your face to him then, a bold trepidation creeping over your skin.

           It was now or never.

           “Reiner, what I have to say next is something I’ve saved only for you. You can do with it what you will, but I beg of you, be careful with it. This could hurt you as much as it could hurt me in the long run.”

           Part of you expected him to leave again, to bristle at the thought of hearing something he doesn’t want to know.

           But he stayed, brows wrinkling together as he studied you before him. You felt like a beggar at his feet, spreading out all you carried in hopes that it was enough to appease the executioner before you.

           “Tell me,” he demanded, “though I make no promises to keep it silent.”

           You felt your courage implode. You almost wanted to gobble up your information and let it rest inside you forever to be gnawed at by your conscience.

           But if there were any fragments left of the man you once knew, of the Reiner Braun who had once held you so dearly, you knew that he would latch on to your words.

           “Zeke—your war chief—is working with Paradis. He’s plotting something so devious that even Erwin can’t pinpoint what it is, but we are certain he has contacts within the government that go beyond securing weapons for Marley.”

           You took a moment to pause, to let what you were saying sink into that thick skull of his.

           “Reiner, something seriously fucked up is going to happen if we don’t figure out what’s happening. And what’s happening is bigger than us—it’s bigger than all the shit we’ve been through. Help me, or it will be more than just me dying.”

You surveyed him as he straightened his broad shoulders, rolling them like a predator who was examining his prey. You’d just offered your life to him, held it out on willing hands with perhaps irresponsible words.

           You held in a sob as he left wordlessly, leaving his empty chair behind.

━━━─── • ───━━━

           Reiner sat with his arms crossed, trying to keep his face neutral as he watched Bertie haphazardly stretch his long arms across the board to erase of their previous work, writings of threaten Erwin, reveal the past of Paradis, and remove the bucket so she can’t piss all being wiped away from thought. He wondered, for a moment, if his friends were idiots, or just wasting time because they knew he’d wander back into her orbit sooner or later.

           He’d come straight to them, of course, straight to his trusted comrades and announced he’d managed to pry your lips open.

           Sans torture, he had stressed to Galliard.  

           But he had sat on the real information you gave him, letting your confessions about Zeke fester in his mind.

          Part of him wanted to believe you; he’d always been wary of his superior officer, always knew that his cunning and depravity could lead them all down a path of no return one day. But another part of him thought you were toying with him, trying to manipulate his doubts and sow seeds of skepticism into his mind. You’d always been so capable of getting whatever you wanted, always had a charm for subtle exploitation.

          “How can we believe any of this?” Annie berated, lighting a cigarette in the room despite knowing it was against Zeke’s rules.

          “Because we know she’s close to Erwin, close to the brass that runs the Scout Police Force,” Reiner countered.

          “More like she has always been up his ass, probably in his fucking bed too.”

           Reiner didn’t like the image that flashed in his mind, didn’t like the thoughts of the Commander running his hands across your skin, of you tangled in his sheets. He chided himself, worried it was a jolt of jealousy, but at this point, he could never distinguish his emotions anymore.

          “Annie,” Zeke hushed her, finally taking a seat at the rounded table instead of pacing a hole into the floor, “everything she has said adds up. I’ve kept our arms trading as quiet as I can, but if those little rats were going around interrogating congressmen, then it’s very possible one of them squealed on our operations just to keep their puppet president in power.”

          “So, it’s true then?” Bertholdt chimed in, shaking a marker within his aching fingers as he paused from taking notes, “that the government of Paradis is basically a sham.”

          “I’m afraid so.”

          And how do you know that? Reiner wanted to question, wanted to prod at the smug man who was waving cigarette smoke from his face.

          “So, what are we going to do with her?” Reiner finally addressed the elephant in the room, pulling at the last remaining thread to this horrible game they had gotten themselves into.

          “We’ll keep using her, of course. Though I don’t think she will give anything else up so freely. We need to give her some hope that we trust her, that she’s going to live through this little nightmarish web we’ve caught her in.”

          Reiner didn’t like the tone in Zeke’s voice. He seemed too relaxed, too humored by it all.

          It was at this time that Pieck wandered into the room, carefully balancing a crutch underneath her arm. She was carrying that soft smile of hers, leaning against the wall momentarily before also settling at the table.

          “A little birdy told me what all is going on,” she turned her grin to Galliard, whose chest puffed at his recognition, “Sorry I couldn’t make the last mission, Chief, the old leg just couldn’t handle it. But, I do have a suggestion to your little, hm, captive issue here.”

          The room felt tense, everyone focusing on the small woman as her prim cheerfulness refused to fade.

          “Let her free, under supervision, of course. Turn our old reconnaissance mission on its head; watch an outsider from inside our group, see if we can get her comfortable enough to open up again.”

          “Yes, exactly, Pieck!” Zeke let out a hearty laugh as he smacked the table with an open palm, wicked delight brightening over his features. He ran his fingers through his blonde ponytail, like he was settling into relief.

          Reiner felt his heart sink into his stomach, acid tearing at its flesh.

          “And it seems we have just the man for the job, seeing that he magically got the little vexation to open her mouth.”

          “No.”

          Reiner gritted his teeth, jaw flexing at the thought of being your god damn babysitter.

          “Oh yes,” Zeke fished around in his pocket then, pulling out a set of keys and sliding them across the table. Reiner didn’t move, just let the clinking metal fall into lap and sink into his thigh.

          “Go let her out of her cage, let her know we’ve agreed to take up her offer of help, but only if she follows orders and stays in your sight.”

          “Don’t you think a woman is more suited to this?” Annie chirped, carelessly smothering her cigarette out directly onto the table, hot ash settling into the grooves of oak.

          “You already passed on this task, sweetheart. Besides, it seems she might find Braun a little more tolerable after all.”

━━━─── • ───━━━

          And all this, all these words, all this fucking time passed, led to Reiner standing before you once again. His head rested against the rusted iron; grip so tight around the metal bars he worried he might actually bend them.

          He’d relayed the messages, but ensured you that this fucking Zeke business had stayed behind tight lips.

          When he opened his eyes, his vision focused on you, still sitting, an almost dumbfounded look on your tilted, tired head.

          “Thank you,” you whispered to him, a sincerity he wasn’t used to pooling in his ears, dripping down his skin.

          “Don’t thank me yet. There are still long nights ahead of you.”

          Ahead of him, he recognized.

          All he wanted was for you to disappear, to be washed away, but it seemed you were about to become a permanent stain on his life—a living, breathing body to remind him of the past he had left in the dark depths of his mind to rot.

          Be sure your sins will find you out, he mused, looking at a sin that might be too tempting not to partake of.

Next Chapter

[atlafan]

Office Neighbors - Part Two

a/n: here we are! a little shorter than part one, but there’s some good stuff in here I think! enjoy! (also reblogs/feedback is super helpful) not proofread

warnings: fluff, slight smut (but not with who you think) 

words: 10K

masterpost

You groan heavily when your alarm goes off at 5AM Tuesday morning. You wanted to make sure your body had time to go to the bathroom before Harry picked you up. You knuckle at your eyes, and then get out of bed. You make yourself a quick iced coffee, and then get dressed. You decide on a cropped pair of leggings and one of your t-shirts that wicks away sweat. You pack an extra pair of socks, another shirt, and another sports bra just in case you get really sweaty. You make yourself some trail mix, and throw an extra water into your pack. Harry said he would bring actual sandwiches for the two of you. You get your ponytail through your hat, and use the bathroom again before waiting him.

Harry: here

You grab your pack and head out to his car. He had similar attire on as he did when you hiked with him the last time. Shorts, a sleeveless top, bandana and clip holding his hair back. You both nod at each other. It was still too early to speak. When you get to the trailhead you both spray each other with bug spray and begin.

“How long do you think it’ll take?” You speak up.

“Why, you in a hurry?” He smirks at you.

“No.” You nudge him. “Just wondering.”

“It’s about two and half miles up. It’s gradual, but there are also some really steep parts. If I were jogging, it would only take a couple of hours, but we can take our time. That’s why I wanted to leave so early.”

“You’ve…you’ve jogged this?”

“Sure.” He shrugs. “It’s just running uphill.”

“Big nope from me.” You laugh. “I like the idea of just taking our time.”

“You get a fuller experience that way, I think. Don’t be afraid to tell me you need a break too. Some of the steeper parts are killer.”

“Will do.”

You both talk about your fall courses, what you plan to do differently, if anything. You talk about how you’re actually excited to have some student advisees, and how you might approach the meetings.

“It’s okay not to be super serious. Most importantly, you just need to listen, which you should have no problem with. You’re a good listener.” He says, blushing slightly.

“Sort of trained to be one.” You chuckle. “But I get what you mean. Now that I know the curriculum and the course sequence a little better, I definitely feel more confident to lead them in the…wow…that is steep.” You gulp as you look at the area ahead.

“We’ll just take our time.” He smiles. “It’s not a race.”

You make it up the first steep hump, and you tell him you need a water break.

“Christ, and here I thought I was in shape.”

“Hiking can be pretty humbling.” He uses a rag to wipe some sweat from his forehead, and takes a drink of water as well. “All set?”

“Mhm, let’s keep going.”

Every so often you stop to take pictures, and there is a moment where Harry veers off so he can have a “wee”, as he would call it. You had drank half your bottle of water and you definitely needed to pee too, but you were too embarrassed.

“Are you sure you don’t need to go?”

“I’m fine.”

“Look, that’s a flatter area, you could-“

“What if I get a mosquito bite…down there?” You whisper.

“It’s not mosquito season.” He laughs. “Did you bring some T-“

“Yes.” You mumble.

“So, just go, it’s fine. You’re being silly. I’ll stand right over there and keep watch.”

“Ugh, I can’t believe I’m doing this.” You groan and take the bit of toilet paper you brought out of your bag. Your eyes stay glued to the back Harry’s head while you do your business. You stick your rubbish into a plastic bag and stuff it away, then you use some hand sanitizer. “Okay.”

“All set?” He turns to look at you. “Not so bad, was it?”

“Not something I’d like to make a habit of, but no, it wasn’t terrible.”

It takes about two and half hours to get to the summit. You both were sticky with sweat, but it was worth it from the view alone.

“Oh my god.” You say slowly as you look around. “This is incredible.”

“Isn’t it? I feel so lucky to live here.”

“I’m starting to feel the same way for sure.” You take a few photos before sitting down, letting out a sigh.

You look over at Harry who’s taking his shirt off and your eyes widen. You knew about the birds on his collar bones, but the butterfly and the ferns were a complete surprise. Harry had such a nice body. He was toned, but still had a softness to him. He notices you looking at him and he blushes.

“Sorry, I’m soaked.”

“No, it’s okay…sorry, I just…your tattoos, I haven’t seen those ones.”

“Oh…” He looks down at himself. “I got these so long ago. Got a few more you haven’t seen.” He pulls up one side of his shorts so you can see the tiger on his thigh.

“Didn’t those huge ones hurt?”

“Eh.” He says sitting down next to you, grabbing a sip of his water. “Some did and some didn’t. The trick is to get a little tipsy beforehand.” He winks at you. He leans back on his elbows and closes his eyes for a moment before looking out at the view again.

“You know, I think you had the right idea about the shirt…do you mind?”

“What?”

“Well, if I took mine off for a bit. I packed myself a spare, but-“

“Oh! Yeah, um, I don’t care, uh, do what makes you comfortable.”

You nod and peel your shirt off. You lay it on the ground next to you, feeling better already from the breeze hitting your hot skin. You were glad you thought to wear one of your cuter sports bras. Your heart was racing slightly, mostly because it had been a while since you had last taken your clothes off in front of someone, but it was just Harry, after all.

“I brought some peanut butter sandwiches, are you hungry? I know it’s not exactly lunch time, but-“

“That sounds amazing, I’m starving. I didn’t eat beforehand.”

“You didn’t?!” He sits up fully.

“I didn’t want to have to…really go to the bathroom.”

“Oh, Y/N.” He laughs while he gets the sandwiches out of his pack. “Here.”

“Thank you.” She notices his eyes drift to her cleavage. It was only for a moment, and she didn’t mind it.

“No problem.”

If Harry were twenty-years-old he’d probably try to make a move. Kiss you, press you up against a tree, fuck, put his hand over your mouth so other hikers wouldn’t be able to hear you moan. But he wasn’t twenty-years-old, he was thirty-two, and he had an eleven-year-old son who he wouldn’t want to treat a woman like that. He wanted to set a good example, to show him how a respectful man treats a woman. So, he eats his own sandwich, trying to keep his eyes anywhere but your body.

“Do you want some trail mix?” You take it out of your bag.

“Sure! Thanks.” He reaches his hand in the bag and takes some out.

You guzzle down some more of your water and stand up. You didn’t want to sit too long and get stiff.

“Harry, would you take my picture?”

“Of course.” He stands up and takes your phone. He smiles at your smile as he snaps the photo.

“How about a selfie?”

“Of the two of us?”

“Yeah.”

“Like this?” You made him so fucking nervous, he was never like this with anyone else.

“I don’t care if you don’t. I’ll just stand here, and you can stand in front of me to get the shot.”

“Oh, right.” He thought to maybe put his arm around you, but that clearly wasn’t happening. You both smile and he takes the shot.

“Do you two want a picture?” A woman says. She was with a couple of other people. “I’d be happy to take it for you.”

“That would be great!” You snatch your phone from Harry’s hand and give it to her. “Are you still sweaty?” You look up at him.

“I don’t think so.”

“Good.” You put your arm around his waist, and he puts an arm around you, hand on your shoulder.

“Alright, I took a couple.”

“Thank you so much, would your group like any?”

“Would you mind?”

“Not at all.”

You take a few photos for the group and then you look over the photos of you and Harry.

“These are great.” You smile and show him.

“You’ll send those to me, yeah?”

“Of course.”

“I’m walking down like this, I don’t wanna get my spare shirt sweaty. I was thinking we could grab a real lunch after this…if you don’t mind me taking up your entire day that is.”

“I would love nothing more than to stuff my face after this, Har.”

You decide to just go down in your sports bra, not wanting to get your spare shirt sweaty either. The way down feels like it takes no time at all. It was definitely easier to hike down a mountain than to hike up a mountain. That is, until you got to one of the steeper parts.

“Just step down on the side and take slow steps. Don’t go straight down.”

“Would, um, hold my hand? I’m a little nervous.”

“Of course.” He looks back at you and takes your hand, giving you a reassuring squeeze.

He helps you down the steeper parts, taking your hand each time until things get more gradual again. You feel incredibly proud of yourself once you’re back at the parking area.

“That was amazing, Harry. I feel amazing.”

“Good, I’m glad.”

“Andy’s done that with you before?”

“Oh, sure. Plenty of times.”

“Incredible.” You chuckle as you grab your spare bra and shirt from your pack. Harry dabs his chest with a rag before putting his t-shirt on. “Shit, where should I change?”

“Um…backseat?”

“I’ll just be a second.”

He nods and waits outside the car while you quickly change. You feel so much relief letting your breasts free, giving yourself a second to cool off before putting your fresh bra on. You pull your t-shirt on overhead and get out to sit in the passenger seat. Harry hops in the driver’s seat and off you go.

“I can’t believe it’s only 12:30.”

“Another benefit of getting up early. Did you see how full the lot was? People are so uneducated. I’d never start a hike now.”

“I know! There were so many people going up when we were coming down. I couldn’t believe it.”

“And now they’ll have to rush.”

“Have you ever hiked at night before?”

“I have, actually. I used to help lead this moonlit hike thing during move-in weekend for first year students. It was a lot of fun.”

“How come you stopped?”

“Not a junior faculty anymore.” He shrugs. “I just didn’t feel like it after a certain point. I still help with other things, but I definitely don’t give up all my free time to the school anymore.”

“I volunteered for that casino night last fall. I was on campus until almost midnight, I was pooped. Sometimes those kids make me feel so old.”

“You’re not old.” He chuckles.

“I mean, I know, I just feel out of touch sometimes.”

“How can a person who studies social media feel out of touch?” He raises an eyebrow at you.

“It’s more so the lingo. I was giving a lecture, and I made a really great point, and when I was done one student shouted ‘period’ and everyone laughed. I had to look it up on urban dictionary.” You both laugh at that.

Harry drives into town, and parks near the local diner.

“How do you feel about brunch?”

“Sounds amazing.”

You both get out and head inside. The morning rush was gone already, so you’re sat right away. You both inhale your food. Greasy hash browns and omelets. And coffee, a lot more coffee. You split the bill and Harry starts the drive to your apartment.

“So, you’ll hike with me again?”

“I’ll hike with you again.” You nod with a smile. “Do you think Andy will be jealous?”

“Nah, he already knows. I’m sure he’ll be expecting lots of details.”

“About what?”

“Um, just how the view was and all that.”

“Right.” He pulls up in front of your house, and you both look at each other. “One of these days you’ll let me pick you up.” You unbuckle your seat belt and he nods. “Thanks again.”

“Anytime.”

“I’d hug you…but I’m a little gross, so…”

“No worries.”

“Well…” You weren’t sure what the next time you were going to see him was.

“Sometimes, while Andy is still in school, I’ll use the library on campus to work on things. It’s got a/c…less stuffy than our offices. I usually only go on a rainy day, but-“

“Cute, we can study together like classmates.” You giggle. “I’ll let you know if I decide to use the space.” You smile and get out of the car.

//

Harry was enjoying his shower, it was quick, but it was good to clean off. He throws on some comfy clothes and nearly dozes off on the couch.

“Dad, I’m home!” Andy shouts, immediately waking him up. “How was the hike?” He plops down on the couch next to Harry.

“It was good, Y/N had a nice time.”

“Is she going to come camping with us?”

“I’m…not sure.” He sighs. “That’s not something just a friend would join in on, you know?”

“I don’t, but…”

“I’m not going to press her about it, I think she’s thinking it over. We’ve got time yet…” He sits up a little straighter. “When Mum comes to get you on Friday she’s going to come in for a bit and chat.”

“About what?”

“What you want to do this summer.”

“I spend summers with you.”

“Yes, but usually you spend the school year with her, that’s why you get me over the summer.”

“You don’t want me this summer?” He leans into him to rest his head on Harry’s chest, and Harry puts his arm around his son.

“Of course I do, but your Mum wants you too. I don’t know, I’m going to propose she get you for July, and I get you for August, I think that’s a good compromise, but she may not see it that way.”

“What about June?”

“Well, you have school for most of June, so you could go be with her end of June through July. It wouldn’t be the end of the world, would it? I wouldn’t hate having my own lake to swim in every day.”

“I guess that’s true…and Noah’s boat is pretty cool.” He sighs.

“I just wanted to give you the heads up.”

“Thanks.”

Harry was up reading in bed later that night. The rain had started and he could hear it tapping on his window, almost starting to lull him to sleep. He heard his phone buzz and his eyes lit up when he saw it was you.

You: hey! Almost forgot to send these to you!

You sent along all of the photos from the day.

Harry: thanks! Really glad that lady was there to take these of us

You: me too…so when exactly is this camping trip?

Harry: middle of June…when Andy gets out of school…June 20th I think

You: if I really won’t be intruding, I think I’d like to go. I’m trying to do more things to get out of my comfort zone

Harry: are you serious?! He’ll be so excited…I mean, I’m excited too.

Harry: I think he wants his friend Brandon to come so having another adult there would be a huge help

He didn’t want his first text to sound too eager.

You: lol well I’m happy to help how I can ;p you’ll tell me what to pack and all that right? I literally have no idea what I would need for overnight stuff

Harry: if you can get yourself a sleeping bag you’ll be all set, I have two tents and a ton of camping stuff. You would just want to bring your own food, clothes, etc.

You: alright sounds good :)

//

Harry hadn’t told Andy about you coming on the trip just yet. He wanted to save it as good news in case the conversation about summer with Paige didn’t go well.

“I guess let’s just start.” Paige says after eating a quick dinner with Harry and Andy in Harry’s home. “Ideally, what would you prefer?” She asks her son.

“To not go back and forth a lot. It stresses me out, I feel like I need to remember every little thing I don’t have two of.”

“Do you have any vacations or anything planned?” Harry asks, looking at his planner. “Right now for us it’s just the camping trip, and that’ll only be the weekend he gets out of school.”

“I was hoping to have him for the fourth. The Barrett’s are coming to staycation at the rental two doors down.”

“Really?!” Andy perks up. “I like when they visit.”

“So…why not spend the rest of June with me,” Harry begins. “You could do July with mum, and then come back to me mid-August.”

“That actually sounds good to me.” Paige says.

“What about Brandon?”

“It’s only a thirty minute drive, I’m sure his dad won’t mind it when you two wanna hang out. Hell, I’ll even come pick you up and bring back here if need be.”

“And if there’s a weekend you wanna just come see Dad in July, you can. You won’t be held hostage.”

“It’s just…you work during the day, Mum.”

“I know honey, but Noah’s got the home office. He can stay in with you and Rachel, and you two could go swimming and have fun at the lake. He could take you on boat rides too.”

“Okay.”

“Really?” She says.

“Yeah, I think all that seems fair.” He looks at the two of them. “I know…I know I can be sort of difficult sometimes, and I’m really grateful that I got to spend the school year with Dad, and I really hope I get to do it again…”

“I think that can be arranged.” Paige smiles. “You’ve never done so well in school, we’re both so proud of you.”

“Yeah, bud, I think this school was a good fit for you.”

“So…I’ll be able to do it again next year, I can keep living with you?”

“If that’s what you want, Mum and I are okay with this new arrangement.”

Andy shoots out of his seat and hugs the both of them.

“Go on and get your things for the weekend, sweetheart.” Paige smiles.

“Okay!” Andy races into his room.

“You’re surprisingly cool with all this.” Harry says to her as they both stand.

“I want him to be happy, and if he’s happier here then what can I do?” She shrugs. “Are you alright continuing to take all this on?”

“Yeah, plus he’s getting older. He can be home for a bit before I am.” Paige hums her response. “How, um, how did you feel about my friend?”

“Y/N?”

“Yeah.”

“She was really nice! She seems sweet, why?”

“She’s going to come camping with us.” Harry whispers. “And I just wanted to make sure you felt comfortable with it.”

“Oh, Harry.” Paige smiles. “Thank you, yeah, I’m perfectly fine with it. Andy seems to really like her.”

“Who?” Andy says, coming out with his backpack and duffle.

“Y/N.” Harry says. “I told her how you wanted Brandon to come camping, and I’ll need some help, so she’s coming camping with us.”

“She is?! Oh my god, we gotta work on your flirting then, Dad. You need help.”

“Excuse me? I’m great at flirting.” He scoffs. “Back me up.” He says to Paige.

“It’s true, Andy.” She chuckles. “Your dad can really turn on the charm when he wants to.”

“Well, you didn’t see him trying to ask her to come to my birthday party. I thought he was going to wet his pants!” He laughs.

“Oi, I was just trying to play it cool before you blurted it out.”

“So, what, you have a thing for her?” Paige asks.

“I like her, yeah.”

“Does she like you?”

“She must if she’s coming overnight with us, right?”

“You know, I’ve never really known you to hold back with a woman you liked before…” She raises an eyebrow at him.

“I work with her, it’s a little more complicated. She’s mentioned a couple of times how she doesn’t think dating in the workplace is smart, just offhand, so I’ve been nervous.”

“I think you guys should hang out again before the trip.” Andy says. “Oh! You could go to her place to help her pack.”

“I’m not gonna invite myself over!” Harry rolls his eyes. “Alright, that’s enough. Go have a good weekend with Mum.”

Andy laughs and gives his dad a hug before leaving with Paige.

//

“God, you feel so good, it’s been way too long.” Ray grunts in your ear. “Should have never stopped doing this.”

Ray was an old flame from your previous institution. You decided to go home to Boston this weekend because your brother had some new recipes he wanted you to try. You happened to bump into Ray at a bar, and went with him back to his place for some promised fun. He was a decent enough fuck, he knew how to scratch your itch, and that was good enough right now. Although, you didn’t feel the need to answer his dirty talk. You just grunt and moan and try to focus on what you’re after.

You’re close, but you’re not quite getting there. He was fucking into you from behind, and hitting the right spots, but it wasn’t…it just wasn’t…

Harry.

Your fingers slip to your clit, and you rub harsh circles into yourself as Ray continues to fuck into you. Your eyes pinch closed, and suddenly there are tattooed arms around you. A raspy, deep voice in your ear.

“Come on, you can do it. Show how you make yourself come.”

Your eyes snap open and roll back when you feel your release. You cry out and collapse onto the bed after Ray spills into the condom. You get up after catching your breath to use the bathroom. Ray watches as you put your clothes on.

“Going so soon?”

“Yeah, I’m staying with my brother…be sort of weird not to come back tonight.”

“It was great to be able to do this again.”

“Yeah.” You smile and kiss him on the cheek. “Thanks for the fun.”

On your uber ride back, it starts to settle into your mind that you just had to fantasize about your friend, Harry Styles, to get off while having sex with someone else. This wasn’t an accidental dream, this was on purpose.

“Shit.” You pinch the bridge of your nose and sigh. This camping trip wasn’t going to be easy.

//

Harry: hey! Was wondering if you want to come out and have some ice cream with Andy and I? He got straight A’s! Think it’s worth celebrating.

You: oh wow! Sure, I could definitely meet up for ice cream. Just at the place down town?”

Harry: yup! 6:30PM work?

You: sure! See you soon :)

Harry: :)

“Andy…”

“Yeah, Dad?”

“Wh…what’s this?” He shows Andy the text conversation on his phone.

“Oh…I, uh, asked Y/N to get ice cream with us while you were in the shower.”

“Why didn’t you just ask me to ask her?!”

“Does it matter? She said yes.”

“Of course it matters! Ugh, I can’t believe I’m gonna have to change my passcode again.” He reads over the conversation again. “I should ground you or something…no toppings on your ice cream.”

“But-“

“Sorry, thems the rules.” Harry smirks and grabs his keys.

You were waiting patiently outside of the ice cream shop for the two of them. You smile when you see Harry’s car pull up. They both get out and greet you.

“Congratulations, Andy.”

“Thanks!” He gives you a quick hug before going inside. You and Harry follow.

“Hey, uh…” He grabs your wrist. “Not that I’m upset or anything…but he actually stole my phone and texted you.”

“Oh!” You start laughing. “Glad I didn’t say anything naughty then.” You wink and walk up to the ice cream counter. You all get your ice cream and sit at a table across the street in the town common. “No toppings, Andy? I’m surprised you didn’t get a sundae.”

“Dad said I couldn’t.” He huffs, and bites into his mint chip ice cream.

“That’s what you get for stealing my phone, you little bugger.” Harry jostles the hair on Andy’s head, and Andy swats his hand away. “Did you have a nice weekend with your brother?”

You nearly choke on your ice cream. You clear your throat and nod.

“Yeah, um, yeah it was good. He came up with this new sauce for his raviolis, it was delicious.”

“Do anything else? Must be nice to go to a city that has things open past 9PM.” He chuckles.

“Um, yeah, I mean I went out, but nothing too exciting to report back.” You were blushing slightly. “So, Andy, straight A’s, how’d you manage that?”

“Brandon and I call each other to do homework a lot. He’s really smart.”

“So are you, don’t sell yourself short. You’ve worked hard this year.” Harry says.

“Yeah, but Brandon’s, like, really smart.” You furrow your brows a little as your lips curve up. It almost sounded like Andy was swooning. “He’s really excited to come camping with us this weekend. Are you excited too, Y/N?”

“I’m…excited to see how it goes.” You laugh. “Should be interesting to say the least. Instead of you coming to get me I could just meet you at your house so we can leave from there.”

“That would be great. Brandon’s sleeping over the night before so we can just get up and go.”

“You should sleep over too, Y/N.” Andy says.

“Andy.” Harry says to him.

“I’ll need all the sleep I can get before camping, and in order to do that I need my own bed, but thank you very much for the offer.” You smile.

“I could swing by the night before, though, and pack everything up in the car.” Harry says.

“Now there’s an idea.” You say with a grin.

//

“Okay, I’m trusting you both to be good while I’m gone for a bit. I shouldn’t be out too long, but still. Please be good.”

“We’re literally watching a movie then going to sleep, I don’t think we’re going to burn the house down.” Andy says, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, Mr. Styles, go see your girlfriend, we’ll be fine.”

“She’s not my…” He sighs. “I’ll be back soon.”

Harry drives to your apartment, and you buzz him in when he gets there. You had gotten caught up all day doing research, so you were running around in a tank top, shorts, and socks. Your door was open for him. It was the first time he had ever been inside your place.

“Y/N?”

“Coming!” You yell from your bedroom. “I’m so sorry, I’m not quite all there yet.” You say, dragging out your pack. “I can’t seem to get the sleeping bag on here without it unravelling.” You look up at him and pout.

Harry was sweating. Even though he had seen you in just a sports bra and leggings, this was almost more revealing.

“I can, uh, get it to stay on there tighter for you.”

“You’re amazing.” You go back into your room to pull out a couple of more things. “I definitely over packed…it’s going to be too heavy.”

“I kept some room in mine in case this happened, no worries.” He gets the sleeping bag tied on correctly. “There we go.” He stands up and is suddenly only inches away from you.

“Let me give you the tour.” You step back. “It’s a two bedroom, I use the other one as an office. It’s way too much of a mess to show you but, that’s the living room.” You show him. “Got a half bath over there, and full bath down the hall, kitchen…and that’s my bedroom.”

“It’s really nice.” He walks around with his hands behind his back. “You’re really good at decorating. Are you sure you didn’t go to school for interior design?” He raises an eyebrow at you, making you giggle.

“No, but it’s certainly a hobby of mine. It relaxes me to look through magazines and go to stores to get ideas.”

“Your office at work has the perfect balance. Mine must look all over the place.”

“No! I love your office, it’s very inviting.”

“Thanks.” He looks you up and down. “Are these the, uh, pj’s you packed for camping? You may get cold.”

“I’m not an idiot, I packed sweats.”

“Oh…good.”

“What are the sleeping arrangements going to be like?”

“Well, I have two tents. One for the boys, and then I have this larger one I figured we could, um, share…if it’s not too buggy I may sleep outside. Would you feel comfortable being in the same tent?”

“Sure.” You shrug. “I was going to make some tea, would you like some, or do you need to get back to them?”

“They should be fine on their own for a bit longer, a cup of tea sounds great.”

You nod, and his eye grows when he notices a park on the back of one of your shoulders. It looked like a fading bite mark. He glares at you without you seeing. Who the fuck did that to you? He wonders. It should be him leaving marks on you.

“So, when you went to Boston, you really didn’t do much?” He asks as he sits down at your kitchen island.

“Well, I wasn’t exactly going to get into it in front of your son.” You chuckle and turn your electric kettle on. “I went out to an old bar I used to go to when I was living in the area, ran into an old friend.”

“And how was that?”

“Okay.” You shrug, and put two tea bags into a couple of mugs. You pour the water over them and put one in front of him.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“So…you and this friend…” He just wanted to confirm if his suspicion was true. “Did anything happen?”

“Like what?” Harry rolls his eyes at you. “Oh! Harry…”

“Come on, you can tell me.” He was trying to pal around, he just needed to know the truth.

“He was an ex-boyfriend…and…yada yada yada.” You sip your tea. “I don’t know why I did it…guess I just wanted to feel close to someone, and it was easy with someone familiar.”

“Right, I get that.” It stung to hear. “Paige and I hooked up a few times after we ended it. Sometimes you just wanna be with someone who knows what you like without you having to say it.” He thought he’d sting you a bit too.

“Mhm.” You didn’t want to think about Paige getting to fuck Harry. Perhaps if you had been drunk you would have asked him what he liked.

“Well, I should probably get going. Early day tomorrow and all, thanks for the tea.”

He grabs your pack and you walk him to the door.

“I’ll be at your place for seven. See you in the morning.”

“See you in the morning.”

//

You drive to Harry’s house in the morning, and the kids burst outside with a little too much energy for you so early. Harry says hello to you, and you notice he’s not wearing his glasses, something he rarely did.

“Morning.” He mumbles.

“Morning.” You open the passenger car door and get in. The boys climb in the backseat.

“Alright.” Harry turns to look at them. “I had to listen to you two hyenas all night. I’d like a nice, quiet ride to the trail head, got it?”

“Yes.” They both say at the same time.

You smile at Harry and he winks at you as he pulls out of the driveway. It’s about a forty-five minute long ride to the trail head. Harry parks and gets everything out of the car. The boys walk a few paces ahead of you and Harry like you expected them to.

“So, they kept you up?”

“You have no idea. I must have told them three times to knock it off.” He groans. “Little…twats.” He says under his breath and you can’t help but laugh.

“I heard that!” Andy says without looking.

“Good, you were supposed to!”

“Are you his father or his brother?” You tease.

“He’s just trying to act cool in front of his friend.” Harry nods toward Brandon. “Which I get, but I can’t let him get away with too much.”

“So, how come people tend to do this overnight?”

“Well, it’s about five miles up, and that’ll take the majority of the day. It’s not really safe to hike at night, so we set up camp, have dinner, hang out, and then once the sun goes down we’ll set up a campfire and stuff like that.”

“I’m excited to see the sun rise.”

“Yeah, that’s the best part. I taught Andy about sun salutations so we’ll be doing that too.”

“And you’ll teach me too, right?”

“Of course, you can follow right along.”

You smile at each other and keep walking. You all take your time, enjoying the scenery around you. An hour or so in you all stop to take water and snack breaks. The boys go off to have a wee, and then you keep going.

“So, you said there’s no shower at these bathrooms, right?”

“No, there’s not. But you can use the sink, and they do have men’s and women’s separate restrooms, so you’ll have some privacy.”

“Okay, great. I just didn’t want to feel gross when we go to sleep.” Harry nods at you. “It’s such a beautiful day. I’m really glad I’m here with you.” You clear your throat. “With all of you.”

“Yeah, me too.”

At one point you needed to stop to pee. Harry got the boys to not giggle and tease you, somehow, as you took a few moments to get yourself situated. You were about midway, and Harry knew the part of the trail where you could see out just a little bit. It was nice and flat, and the perfect spot for lunch. They were light lunches, veggies, nuts, and more water. Harry explained it wouldn’t be good to fill up too much because it would make going up a mountain that much more difficult.

“When will you two know what class you’re in next year? Sixth grade, that’s pretty wild.” You say to Brandon and Andy.

“Next year they’re putting us on teams. You either still have two teachers or four.” Andy explains. “We wanna be on the four team.”

“Why’s that?” You ask.

“Because then you’re not stuck in the same two classrooms all day.” Brandon says. “It’ll make the day go by faster.”

“That’s what a kid on the basketball team told us, anyways.” Andy shrugs. “We heard the four team has nicer teachers too.”

“I just hope they don’t put one of us on the four team and the other on the two team, that would be the worst.” Brandon says.

“Is it by last name or anything?” Harry asks.

“We have no idea, when we asked our fifth grade teachers they didn’t really say there was much reason behind who gets what.” Andy says. “I’ll worry about it in August.”

“Yeah, I don’t even want to think about school right now.” Brandon says.

“Y/N, do you still do work over the summer like Dad does?” Andy asks.

“Yes, I’m still technically in school. So I do research like Dad, but mine is so I can become a doctor like him, he just does it to keep his name out there.” She nudges him playfully.

“Oi, my work is more than just for vanity, thank you very much.”

“I don’t know Dad, I think Y/N has a point. I’ve seen you do your research.” Andy grins.

“Oh, this I’d love to hear.”

“Dad watches really sad romance movies, cries, and then pauses the movie to take notes about how he’s feeling.”

“I do that to compare to the books that the films are based off of, and I see how I felt while reading the book versus watching the movie. I also make notes about the cinematography and mise en scene, because music-“

“Mr. Styles, you lost me at the cinnamon tography…” Brandon says and everyone laughs.

After lunch you get going again. You’re amazed that the boys don’t need a lot of breaks and don’t seem tired. They get excited when they see certain critters or flowers. As you get closer to the top, you notice it getting a little steeper. Harry had the biggest pack on, and you were fucking floored that he wasn’t huffing and puffing his way up. He was sweating for sure, but he was in no way struggling. Impressive, to say the least.

“Dad! I recognize this part, we’re almost there!” Andy exclaims.

“Yeah! Shouldn’t be long now!” He calls ahead. “How are your feet doing?” He asks you.

“Not too bad, I’m glad I changed my socks when we took our last break. I’m sure I’ll feel it tomorrow.”

“After we get to the top and everything we’ll make sure to stretch. Your legs will tighten up too much if we don’t.”

“Makes sense. Has Brandon gone hiking with you before?”

“Oh, sure, tons of times. Never overnight, though, so this will be nice for them.”

A few more paces, and a few sharp turns, and you’ve made it to the summit.

“Holy shit.” You say to yourself. Mountains and greenery as far as your eyes could see. No lake this time, but you didn’t care.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Harry says to you.

“It’s…incredible.” You were still in shock.

“Congrats, it’s your first 4,000 footer.” He puts his hand on your shoulder and gives it a squeeze before getting his pack off. You all get your packs off.

Dozens of pictures are taken. You take some of the boys with Harry, and Andy uses your phone to take one of you and Harry, and he even wants one of just you and him, it was sweet.

“So…where’s the campsite?”

“Oh, just down that way a bit. Figured we could hang out here while we stretch and stuff. Just chill and take it all in before we go to set up the tents.”

You all sit on the ground and stretch your legs. It felt good to just take some time to breathe slowly and let your legs relax. You all walk to where the campsite is and claim your territory.

“So over there are the bathrooms, and then that hut over there actually has a snack bar in it and a few forest rangers.”

“That’s so cool! Do you need help with the tents?”

“Have you ever set one up before?”

“Never.”

“Then you can watch. It’ll be easier if Andy and I just do it.”

You nod and take a step back with Brandon as Andy and Harry work to get the two tents situated. Andy and Brandon get their sleeping bags set up the way they like inside their tent and then they head off towards the bathroom.

“Alright.” You say after tossing some of your things inside yours and Harry’s tent. “I’m gonna go change.”

“Okay, I’m gonna get the firewood together. Gotta get cooking soon.”

“What are we having?”

“Regular hot dogs for the boys, vegan ones for us, that work?”

“You had a cooler in there?”

“And a cast iron pan. Ain’t my first rodeo, darling.” He says cheekily, but you blush anyways from him calling you darling. He had never called you that before.

You grab the things you need for the bathroom, and you’ve never been so thankful to see a clean, working toilet in your life. There were some other people around setting up their own campsites as well, it wasn’t just your group. You use a washcloth to freshen up and then put on some new leggings and a long sleeve shirt. You take your hair out of its hat and put some dry shampoo in before putting it all up in a messy bun. You sigh happily now that you feel a little cleaner.

The boys, and Harry, had changed into some comfier clothes as well. You notice that Harry is wearing his glasses once again. They were all sitting on different blankets around the fire Harry had just gotten started.

“How many would you like?” He asks you as he takes out the different types of hotdogs.

“Two would be great, thank you.” You say, sitting down near Andy.

“I also have some other veggies, I cut up some bell peppers.” Harry takes the baggy out of the cooler. “I figured beans wouldn’t be such a great idea.”

“Dad, can I have two hotdogs?”

“Same here.” Brandon chimes in.

“Of course, boys.”

Harry makes up the vegan hotdogs first, and then makes the boys. They all munch on the veggies and other snacks that Harry packed. He even made sure to bring Oreo’s, Andy’s favorite. Once the sun sets, and everyone bundles up a bit more, Harry breaks out the items to make s’mores.

“Brandon, do you think your dad will coach basketball again in the winter?” Harry asks him.

“Yeah, he said he should have the time. I like him better as a coach than the guy I had a couple of years ago that’s for sure.”

“I like the way your dad coaches, he’s not mean.” Andy says. “I had one guy one year that just yelled and drilled the whole time, it wasn’t any fun.”

“You’re just kids, why would anyone yell at you?” You ask, biting into your own s’more.

“Some of these people are just looking for excuse to be aggressive.” Harry sighs. “This was a much better year all around for everyone I’d say.”

A light hearted ghost story or two is told before the boys both call it a night, their long night before finally catching up with them. Harry makes sure all their trash is thrown away and secure, and he reminds them of the buddy system for if they need to wee in the middle of the night. He also gives them a flashlight so they’ll be able to see everything.

“I think they had the right idea.” You yawn after coming back again from the bathroom. “I’m pooped.”

“Same here. Go get settled, I’m gonna put the fire out.”

You nod and go into the larger tent Harry set up for the two of you. You roll out your sleeping bag, and use one of your spare sweatshirts as a pillow. You get settled in and sigh. It was sort of nice to be unplugged, away from screens and research. Harry eventually crawls in, and gets settled into his own sleeping bag. He sets a dim lantern on his side so he could read a bit.

“What are you reading?”

“The screenplay that was adapted to make The Notebook…” He mumbles.

“You’re working?”

“Sort of…I usually bring books like these camping. They’re easier to read.”

“Should I be offended that you were about ready to read instead of staying up to chat?” You smirk.

Harry’s eyes grow slightly. You wanted to have pillow talk before bed? Is that it?

“Um…well…I just figured you were tired, and I usually read to fall asleep-“

“Harry, relax, I was just teasing. You can read if you want.” You smile at him and turn over, nestling into your sleeping bag. “Night.” You say, looking over your shoulder at him quickly.

“Night.”

Part of you wanted to whine or complain that your makeshift pillow wasn’t comfortable so he’d offer to let you lay on his chest. Maybe he’d caress you and even read to you for a bit. Maybe you would have done that if his son wasn’t in the tent right next to you.

Harry couldn’t concentrate on his book. His eyes kept glancing over to your curled up body. You looked so soft and peaceful, and he just wanted to wrap his arms around you. He wanted to keep you safe and warm all night. And because Harry usually sleeps holding onto a pillow of some kind, he felt a little fucked. He sighs and turns the lantern off. He lays on his back for a while until his eyes eventually flutter closed. You both were exhausted from the hike.

//

You wake up feeling warm and cozy. You weren’t sure why you had woken up. It’s not like the sun was shining yet, the whole point was to get up and watch the sun rise. No, you woke up from feeling small puffs of air by your ear and a strong hold around your stomach. Harry must have rolled over in his sleep and started cuddling with you. You almost wish you were in a shared sleeping bag so you could get even cozier. It would be like one giant sleeping bag burrito. You feel his arm pull you closer into him, and his breathing changes.

You shift and turn on your back so you can look up at him, and he keeps his arm around your waist. You gaze at each other, and he moves his hand up to smooth some hair away from your face before letting it caress your cheek. You both look like you’re about to say something when-

“Dad, come on! The sun’s gonna be up soon!”

Andy startles Harry so badly, it’s like he wakes up all over again, like he didn’t realize what he was doing with you. He nearly jumps away from you and sits up.

“Okay, one second! Go get washed up.” He sighs, and then looks at you. “I-“

“Let’s get to it before they find a way to get in here and drag us out.”

“Yeah.”

Harry unzips the tent and you both use the bathroom before heading out with the boys to the summit again.

“Alright everyone.” Harry says, and he starts doing some simple yoga moves. The boys follow and so do you.

It was amazing to actually do sun salutations as the sun came up. After sitting and looking out a while longer you all head back to the campsite breakfast. You drink water instead of coffee in fear of really needing to use the bathroom later. You each have a granola bar, and then start to clean up the tents. You get changed in your attire for the day, as done everyone else, and you all start working your way down the mountain.

“What did you think of the sunrise, boys?” You ask.

“It was so cool! I can’t wait to show my parents the pictures I took.” Brandon says.

“Must be nice to have a phone that actually takes decent pictures.”

“I took plenty of pictures on mine, Andy.” Harry says. “You got two more years, I think you can wait.” He chuckles as Andy looks back to give him a pouty face.

“How’d you sleep, Y/N?” Brandon asks.

“Oh! Um…” You and Harry look at each other briefly and then blush. “Pretty good, slept the whole night through, I think. How about you two.”

“My mom gave me some melatonin, so I slept good.” Brandon shrugs.

“And I’m used to camping, so I was fine.” Andy says.

“Good, that’s really good.” You say and clear your throat.

You both knew you’d have to have a conversation about the way you woke up, but now obviously wasn’t going to be the time. Finally, after hours, you make it all the way back to the trailhead, and get everything into Harry’s car. It was an incredible couple of days, but you couldn’t wait to get home to take a proper shower. Hell, you may even take a bath just to relax your sore muscles. Harry drops Brandon off, and Andy helps him with his things. They hug goodbye; it’s awfully sweet.

“Dad, can I shower first? I feel gross…”

“Sure, just don’t take too long.”

“Okay! Thanks again for coming Y/N.”

“Thank you again for inviting me.” You smile as you all get out of Harry’s car. He waits for Andy to go inside before speaking up.

“I’m sorry about this morning, I hope I didn’t make you feel uncomfortable…when I sleep I usually have a pillow or something and-“

“I wasn’t uncomfortable.” You say as you grab your things out of his trunk and put them into your own. “In fact, I can’t remember the last time I felt so comfortable.” You look at him and close your trunk.

“Oh.” His eyebrows raise and his cheeks grow slightly red. “Um.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I have him for the rest of this week until I send him off with Paige for July, so I wanna spend as much time with him as I can, but-“

“Call me when you’re free. I don’t mind waiting.”

Harry was chilled to his bones from your words. He watched you get into your car and drive off before going into his house. You said what you said because you had a feeling Harry had been waiting for you to get your act together a bit. You’ve known him for almost a year, and he’s been a great friend, but there’s something that’s been brewing between the two of you. Probably since the day you met.

//

“Is that everything?” Paige chuckles as Andy brings another bag into her house.

“I wanted to make sure I had options.” He grunts as he gets inside.

“He’s just like you, I swear.” She shakes her head at Harry.

“As if we needed more proof that he’s mine.”

“So…I heard the camping trip went well, what’s next for you and Y/N?”

“Not sure, I’m gonna give her a ring the second I’m on the road.”

“Did anything happen between you two in that tent?” She raises an eyebrow at him.

“No.” He mumbles and kicks some dirt at his feet. “Not much I could do with two eleven-year-olds right next door.”

“Harry.” She laughs.

“We woke up…very close together, that was about it. Bottom line is we need to talk, and now I’ll have the time to do so.”

“You know you’re going to need to fill Andy in on everything when you have your chats on the phone.”

“Please, it’ll be the first thing he asks me instead of how are you…”

“Okay, that’s everything.” Andy says. “Love you.” He hugs Harry and Harry sighs as he wraps his arms around him.

“Love you too, call if you need anything, and be good, promise?”

“Promise.”

Harry waves as he gets into his car, and he calls you right away just like he said he would. The phone goes straight to voicemail, which makes him feel like he got kicked in the gut, especially because it rang twice first. Suddenly, a couple of texts come up on his screen.

You: hey!

You: sorry, I’m at the library getting some work done. I’ll call you later

Harry sighs, but he completely understands. Not too long ago it was him using every free moment he had to get his doctoral research done. He had his own work he should be doing, so he goes home and gets settled up in his office.

He was getting some incredible work done on his latest manuscript, the journal that publishes his works will definitely be pleased. He blinks and sees it’s already 8PM, and you never called, or texted. He hoped you were alright. He stands up and stretches, and decides to grab a quick shower. The house was quiet without Andy, and he didn’t like it. He flops down onto the couch in just a pair of boxers and turns the TV on. A ring on the doorbell startles him, and he gets up right away. He peers through the window to see you, holding a box of pizza and a bottle of wine. He cracks the door open so you could only see his face.

“Hey! Sorry for just dropping by. I got really busy earlier, and I thought this would be better than calling. Hungry?” You smile brightly at him.

“Yeah, that sounds great. I was actually feeling pretty-“

“Um, Har…”

He had opened the door more just out of instinct, revealing his mostly naked body.

“Shit, let me, uh, come in, I’ll go throw something on.” You giggle as he basically scurries to his bedroom to change. He comes back out in a t-shirt and joggers. “Thanks for bringing all this.”

“I planned to come by earlier, I know you dropped Andy off today…how are you doing?”

“I’m okay…work distracted me, but it’s hitting me now. It’s really quiet without him already…I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too.” You pop the box of pizza open. “Wanna get this bottle open?”

“Yeah.”

He grabs his wine opener, two glasses, and two plates. He gets the bottle open while you set the pizza out. He pours you both a glass and you sit down at the table.

“So, you got a lot done today?” He asks you.

“You have no idea! I was on fire.” Harry laughs at that.

He listens to you talk about what you got done. He couldn’t help but watch every movement your lips made, and how your eyes got brighter and brighter at how excited you were.

“Sorry, I’m going on and on about my thing, what did you get done today?” You say, sipping your wine.

“Worked on my manuscript for the journal.” He shrugs. “Nothing special.”

“Oh, don’t say that, you do incredible work. I love reading your articles. I actually think I used to read your work when I was still in grad school.” You start blushing. “It’s sort of cool knowing the person you’ve been able to learn so much from.”

“Just sort of cool, huh?” He scoffs playfully and you nudge him. “Wanna move outside, I put up a screen around the perimeter for bugs, or are you still hungry?”

“No, I’ve had plenty, but I’ll be bringing this bottle with us.” You grab the wine and you both head outside. “When did you even have time to do this?”

“Andy helped me. It wasn’t too difficult.”

You imagine Harry doing handy work, and it makes every part of your body flutter.

“I wish I had outdoor space like this, it’s my one complaint of my apartment, no balcony or anything.”

“Yeah, we didn’t like it much either, we didn’t stay there long.”

“We?”

“It’s where Paige and I lived when we first came here. I got my master’s from the university first, then my doctorate. Her grandparents lived in that big house, so they helped babysit Andy a lot.”

“Oh.” You didn’t have any problems with Paige, but she didn’t love being reminded that they were once together and in love.

“Were you sore after the hike or anything?” Quick to change the subject, maybe he felt the same way.

“Um, only for a day or so. I didn’t stretch as much as I should have when I got home. Thought the bath I took would have been good enough.”

“Would you ever do it again?”

“I would! I had more fun than I thought…but I’ll only go to the mountains that have working bathrooms.”

“Deal.” He smiles and takes a sip of his wine. “Maybe we could do something like that later this month.”

“With or without Andy?” You raise a playful eyebrow at him.

“I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t mind an adults only trip.”

“Is that so?”

“Mhm.” He finishes off his glass and pours another. “Refill?”

“Please.” You hold your glass out for him and he pours some more. You take a sip and lick your lips. “And why exactly would you like it to be adults only?”

“Perhaps…I wouldn’t have minded not being interrupted that morning.”

“Andy really startled you, huh?”

“I almost forgot he was there…” He plucks at his bottom lip. “It was…an interesting how we woke up.”

“Very interesting.” You sip your drink. “I was sort of…hoping you were going to cuddle me or something.”

“You were?!” His eyes widen.

“Yeah, it was sort of cold, even in sweats and a sleeping bag. I felt so cozy when I woke up.”

“You didn’t even flinch when you looked up at me…”

“Why would I have?”

“I don’t know…sort of weird to wake up in a friend’s arms, isn’t it?”

“Not so weird when that friend is you.” You look at him. “You back peddled when you tried to explain why. It’s okay if you wanted to hold onto me.”

“I literally sleep with a body pillow, you can check my room.” He defends. “I’ve always been like that.” He mumbles.

“So it wasn’t about me?”

“No…I…I wanted to cuddle you.” He wanted to do more, but again…his son was there.

“Well…I’m glad you did. It’s nice being the little spoon once in a while, and your cologne always smells so good, no complaints here.”

“You…you like my cologne?”

“Love it, actually.” You finish off your glass and you grab the bottle to pour just a little more in. “It’s nice when the person you have to see every day at work smells good.”

“Let’s see….” He holds his hand up to count on his fingers. “You like my work, you’re happy I cuddled you, and you enjoy my cologne.” He looks at you. “What should I be thinking of all this?”

“I…” You swirl your drink around. “Do you remember when I had that really awkward dream about you a while back?”

“Yes.”

“That was a complete accident, a freaky thing that happened that I didn’t want to have happen.”

“Is this one of those compliment sandwiches?”

“No, I’m…please…” You look at him. “The last time I went to Boston, as you know, I hooked up with someone.”

“Yeah.” He rolls his eyes.

“But…I was having trouble getting there…and…well…” You look away from him. “You popped in and I was happy about it. I…thought of you…and…”

“And were you able to get there, Y/N?”

“Yes.” You say just above a whisper. “I wanted it to be you.”

“I thought you didn’t want to date colleagues?”

“I don’t, but…” You look at him again. “I think I like you too much to care about that anymore.”

“God, I…” He gets up and kneels in front of you, taking one of your hands. “I like you so much, you have no idea.”

“Well, I have a small idea…woke up with you pressed against me.” You smirk.

“No way you felt anything between two sleeping bags and all the layers of clothes.”

“Little bit.”

“Christ.” He groans.

“Again, not complaining, it’s flattering, actually.”

“So when you let that guy leave that mark on the back of your shoulder, were you hoping it was me who did that too?” He stands up now.

“You saw that?” You gasp as you look up at him.

“I did…when you were running around your place getting everything together.” He pulls you to stand up, and he tucks some of your hair behind your ear. “You were wearing a pretty flimsy tank top.”

“I don’t exactly get dolled up when I’m home all day working.”

“I guess we have that in common.” He pushes his glasses to the top of his head, and cups your jaw with one hand, and hooks his other arm around your waist to pull you closer.

“Are you going to kiss me?”

“Do you want me to?”

“Yes.”

Your eyes flutter closed as he leans in, and you tug at his shirt as his lips meet yours. It’s soft at first, he’s just getting a feel for you, and then it turns needy. His hand slides to the back of your head, tugging softly at your hair to crane your head up more. You gasp at this, and he takes the openness as an invitation to nip at your bottom lip. You moan softly, and your tongue peeks out to meet his. They mold together like they were supposed to all along. Suddenly, he takes a step back.

“Wh…what’s wrong?” You wipe the small trail of spit from your mouth that he left behind.

“Nothing, I just…I told myself I wouldn’t do this while we were drinking. There have been a lot of times I’ve wanted to kiss you, but I haven’t because we were drunk or something.”

“I’m not drunk, are you?”

“I’m a little tipsy, yeah.”

“I, okay, yeah, so am I.” You chuckle

“So, I think we should stop for now. I wanna do this right. I wanna take you on a proper date.”

“I’d like that.” You smile, and then chew on your bottom lip. “It’s the right thing to do anyways, we shouldn’t jump into this too quickly. I have some different trips planned this summer, and I’m going to be busy working on things, getting my classes together…not exactly a whirlwind summer romance we’re looking at.”

“I have a conference in New York later this summer, so I’ll be busy as well getting my lecture ready.”

“Wait…I have a conference to go to in New York later this month too!”

“Really? Is it the CMT?”

“Yeah! I went last summer too and had such a good time. I had no idea you were giving a lecture, the itinerary doesn’t come out until next week.”

“I’m presenting some research about my wellness course…I’ve been collecting some data over the last three years I’ve been teaching it.”

“Ah, so you’re not going to be discussing the complexities of Pride and Prejudice?” You smirk at him.

“Nope, saving that for a rainy day.” He smirks back.

“Wow, well…that’s sort of exciting…we’ll be going to the same place for a few days.”

“We could, um, drive together if you wanted.”

“I was just going to take the bus…”

“I get free parking at the hotel since I’m part of the conference.”

“It’s a four hour drive…that’s a long time for you to be stuck with me.”

“Was stuck with you overnight not too long ago, and I didn’t mind it one bit.” He puts his hand on your shoulders. “Are you staying at the hotel where the conference will be?”

“Yes.”

“Great.” He smiles. “It’s, um, it’s a date then.”

“Yeah.” You smile at him. “Although…might be nice to go out before then…make sure we still like each other, and all that.” You joke.

“Yeah, I could easily not be into you in just a couple of weeks.” He jokes back and you can’t help but laugh.

“Let’s go inside, I need some water before I go home.”

“Good idea.”

He leads you in, and after a two glasses of water, and giving you a mock-sobriety test, he lets go. Well, not before giving you another steamy kiss by your car after you promised to text him when you got home. It was just as needy as the first kiss. He didn’t press his body up against yours, but from the way he was sucking on your bottom lip, you could tell he wanted you desperately. But like the responsible adults you were, you ended it there, and called it a night. A very good night.

[glitterge1pen]

Have You Ever Considered Craft Supplies Instead Of Drugs? Then This Might Be For You.

Kyōtani Kentarou x reader, sfw, fluff, 1,691word count 

His room for the most part was clean. It’s main function was for sleep though. This was apparent. His clothes, which were mainly basketball shorts and blank t-shirts, were scattered about in a way that told you he threw them there when going to bed.

Kyotani had told you to give him a few minutes, while he was in the bathroom brushing his teeth and struggling with the cap of his eyeliner pen. You felt comfortable enough in his apartment to check the fridge and see if anything was worth your while. But still you felt a bit like an intruder in his bedroom, which is where you had wandered off to.

The walls were white, mostly bare. There was a poster up for some band you didn't recognize, and another one advertising the Sendai Frogs that looked like he had ripped it off one wall to get onto his. You smiled at the thought of him stealing the poster from the grocery store display window or stadium parking lot.

You give his room one last once over before turning to leave. On your way out you trip over a shoe box. You would have just ignored it but a few tufts of paper flew out from the lid. You bend down to collect them but find that these aren't just trash from the shoe box. Quietly, and with a tinge of guilt, you kneel down to gently put the papers back in the box. The little scraps of paper you had found were actually sticky notes, you couldn't decipher the writing on them because of how faded and old the paper was.

You get one quick glimpse inside the shoe box on Kyotani’s floor. There are dozens of papers, printed photos, receipts, tickets, and what you assume are old keys. You feel like you've seen something very private of Kyotani’s and when you turn around to find him standing in the doorway, you gasp in shock.

“What are you doing in here?”

He seems more concerned and confused about you versus the fact that you are in his room. You decide sarcasm is the best choice of action.

“What? You embarrassed about me being in your bedroom?”

“Shut up and get out!”

Kyotani puts his hands on your shoulders and tosses you out into the hallway.

“Hey, hey, what time is it because we might actually be late to the movie now,”

You say pulling out your phone to get a glance at the clock. There was only twenty minutes before you were supposed to be at the theater.

“We’ll be fine, the trailers always play for too long anyways”

He says leading you out the front door.

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

When the team wins a game and you head out to eat with the guys afterwards, your eyes don't usually follow Kyotani’s hands so closely. You hope that no one else has picked up on your new habit. But last week's venture into his bedroom has left you reeling in thought.

Kyotani doesn't really like to be hugged. During movie nights he sits separate from the pile of pillows and bodies. He tolerates head pats and high fives. When he hangs up the phone you can feel how difficult it is for him to say something like “bye I love you” platonic or not.

You hadn't really considered it before, at least not so intently in relation to Kyotani. Most people were easy to understand in their affections and how they garnered it. Or if they weren't so obvious, they made some sort of distinction, a simple “I don't like when people do this” or “I prefer this”.

Being friends with Kyotani you had assumed that he was content with what people gave him because he never asked for more. He didn't hug you when you two parted ways, and you never forced him to. He didn't ask or push on others boundaries but now after seeing that shoe box you wondered why he had never advocated for his own. You thought perhaps it wasnt that Kyotani disliked those other forms of affection or care, but rather he didn't regard those other acts as affections at all.

The sounds of the restaurant fade back in as your thoughts simmer down. You feel Tsukishima and Yamaguchi next to you. Enthralled in a conversation about some show they had been binging together. Apparently Yamaguchi had watched a few episodes without Tsukishima and everyone found the annoyed, bitter expression on Tsukishima hilarious, the table erupting in laughter.

“You good? You've been staring at nothing for five minutes,”

Kyotani said to you before taking another bite into his food. He sat across from you, his elbows propping him up over his plate of food.

“Yeah, just tired today,”

You say shaking your head as if trying to wake yourself up.

As the evening wears on, your eyes still follow Kyotani’s hands. Trying to catch the moment of thievery in action. To see if your contemplations are grounded in Kyotani’s actions or rather thoughts with nothing to hold as they pass you by.

But as everyone files out of the restaurant, the bill already split, the copy of the receipt abandoned on the table, you watch as Kyotani lingers for just a moment, to pocket the slip of paper.

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

You couldn't remember the last time you had attempted to burn a CD. Was it you who did it or a friend? It was years ago though that was for sure. You had made three playlists on spotify, checking and double checking that they were private playlists. After arranging them and finding the songs that fit just right with each list you started finding youtube videos of each song. From there you converted the links to MP3 audio.

While your computer whirred and the audio filed loaded onto the disk you thought about decorating the CD cases. Of course covering the clear plastic case with glitter gel pen and cute stickers was very tempting. But you weren't sure that was Kyotani’s style. At the same time this was supposed to be a gift from you. You met yourself halfway.  Decorating one CD case like how you would have wanted, and the other with more of a Kyotani flair, the third somewhere in between the two.

When the CD’s were done you carefully placed them into their new plastic homes. Grabbing a black sharpie to scribble the playlist names onto each. You felt like wrapping them would be too extravagant so you settled for tying a ribbon around the two.

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

“What the hell do you want?” Kyotani says as he pulls up next to you on the curb outside your place. You had texted him earlier while he was at work, asking if could stop by after he got off. He has the window rolled down and you take it upon yourself to unlock the passenger door and climb inside.

"I wanted you to test these out"

You were hoping that you had done everything right with the computer.You hand him the CD's, he flips them over in his hands inspecting them.

“Is it cool if I take these ribbons off?”

You nod and he turns the car radio on to insert the CD’s. As the first song starts playing you turn to him.

“This is that band you like right? The one on that poster in your room?”

Kyotani is visibly flustered by this.

“Yes? Did you...did you make these for me?”

You throw your head back in a laugh.

“Yes, I made them for you,”

“Oh,”

He says in a rather soft amazed tone.

“Look, I didn't mean to, but when I was in your room the other day I tripped over that shoe box you have,”

You keep your eyes trained on the street outside the dashboard window. Unsure and a bit nervous to see what Kyotani is thinking. Tempted by curiosity though, you do look at him for a brief moment, only to find him also intensely staring off into the street. His face lit up red with embarrassment.

“I’m glad that I saw it though. Because that stuff is important to you and I want to know what you think is important”

The air in the car feels like it is clinging to your skin with tension. You think the pressure will start to crack your bones when Kyotani’s voice splinters the suspense.

“It's easier to feel something when its tangible, when you can hold it, it's why people still buy polaroids and go to museums and shit”

You nod, a jovial ease overcoming you as he continues to speak.

“I don't really like, uh, I guess physical affection or even talking or it’s not like talking, people call it words of affirmation or whatever,”

You hold the smile of your lips down, you don't want him to think you’re teasing him in this moment. You're just happy that he is comfortable enough with you to say such things.

“I know lots of other people like to have those types of things though, and I worked really hard to get used to stuff, but I don't know, this is what I like,”

He says gesturing with the CD case to you.

“I mean so like, birthday cards, post-it notes, bus transfers? Things that are directly attached to memories and people? Anything else you want me to know about?”

While it hurts a little that he’s struggling to talk about this matter, you can't help but revel in the unusual brash shyness of Kyotani. He does mutter something, but when you lean in closer to signal that you didn't hear him the first time he repeats himself.

“Event pamphlets. I know it's trash but I like it”

“Promise you won't get mad?”

You drawl your voice out and make it sweet so he knows you're messing with him.

“Hm?”

He says, eyebrow quirked in question.

“I think you'd be really into scrapbooking”

“Shut the hell up before I kick you out of my car”

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

A/N: Took a break from my current writing obsession to spit this out .

[poesparakeet-fics]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Critical Role (Web Series) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Caduceus Clay/Caleb Widogast, Caduceus Clay & Caleb Widogast, The Poly Nein - Relationship Characters: Caleb Widogast, Caduceus Clay Additional Tags: Tickling, ler!Cad, Lee!Caleb, Punishment, Injury, Injury Recovery, Caleb Widogast Needs a Hug, Caleb Widogast is a Mess, Teasing, Queerplatonic Relationships, Pinned, Wrestling, Forced Self Love, And for once I don’t mean that in the sexy way., Safewords Series: Part 3 of The Poly Nein Summary:

Caduceus shows Caleb the consequences of dodging a healing spell around people who love you.

This one’s SFW, so please enjoy it here or on AO3!

This is what happens.

They came home battered, beaten and pissed besides. The others hung around for Jester’s prayer of healing, but Caleb slipped away, too full of old wounds and grey memories to give up his new wounds quite yet. His head ached and his side pulsed painfully while he climbed the stairs. He was nearing his door when a great, heavy hand fell on his shoulder.

“Here,” a warm voice hummed from behind him, “lemme get that for you.”

“Oh Herr Clay, it’s–”

 Caleb’s sentence was choked out by a sudden sucking feeling accompanied by a sharp sound  in his chest as Caduceus’ spell took hold. 

*POP*

Caleb froze, then swayed in his tracks. Perhaps the injury had been a little worse than he thought. He turned around to thank his friend, only to see thunder in the firbolg’s eyes and freeze. He had seen Caduceus upset, annoyed and disappointed, but he wasn’t sure he’d seen him furious before. Until now, that is.

“For real?” Cad’s voice was still it’s usual low, placid cadence. He closed his eyes and pinched the top of his nose.

“Wh-”

“That was a broken rib, Caleb.”

“I was just going to bed–”

“You didn’t take a lick of healing from Jester.” He paused while Caleb floundered under a wave of embarrassment, guilt and stubbornness. “Your rib would have been the first thing to heal, since it’s the most life threatening. Unless you had a dagger through your heart I didn’t know about.”

The lie that was ready on Caleb’s tongue died there.

“I… ah… I did not know it was broken.” He finished lamely.

“That is not…” Caduceus closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, “That’s not the point, you… dammit, OK. OK, We’re gonna deal with this.”

His hand closed around the back of Caleb’s coat, and the now-healthy wizard yipped as he was lifted effortlessly off his feet. As easy as it was to forget Caduceus’ quiet anger, it was easier to forget his rarely-used strength.

Caduceus pulled Caleb into his quarters.

“Caduceus, what–”

“It was one thing when you were still too broken to function or believe anyone could care for you. But that’s not what’s happening here, right? You know better than this now.”

Caleb felt a panicked little chill run up his spine as Caduceus carried him like a suitcase.

“Caduceus, just— wait, I didn’t know–”

“Of course you didn’t. That big, stabbing pain in the side of your body, next to all the vital organs? I can see why you weren’t concerned.” He set Caleb on the oversized bed, and used a stern look to him in place.  “Take off your shirt, I want to check your other ribs.”

“Caduceus, your spell worked fine…”

The firbolg regarded him with mild astonishment. “You really gonna fight me on this?”

Caleb swallowed, and pulled his coat off, then his holsters and shirt. He sat politely and quietly on the edge of the bed, eyes downcast. Caduceus sat next to him, tugging at his arms to manipulate his torso and peer carefully at him. Eventually he let out a breath.

“It looks like the spell healed all of the physical damage.”

Caleb was just starting to relax with slumped shoulders when one large hand caught him across his chest from behind and pulled his torso across Caduceus’ lap. That gave him a chance to catch the wicked twinkle in his friend’s eye and start fighting, but it was too late at that point. He was pinned with both wrists held over his head by Caduceus’ left hand, his torso stretched over the width of the firbolg’s lap while a heavy right elbow held his hips in place.

“Wh-what are you doing?” Caleb squeaked, legs kicking feebly against the mattress. 

“Making sure you remember what happens when you dodge heals from now on. I’m gonna check every one of your ribs, I’m gonna do it until it’s done, and you’re gonna take it because if you bamf away from me, I’m just gonna have to get other people involved.”

With that Cad started to gently trace Caleb’s short rib with a pinching finger and thumb, reaching across the wizard’s body so his arm could block Caleb’s attempts to curl up in a ball.

“Wait, I– Oh, noho!” 

Caleb threw his head back to laugh, every squirm just sending him deeper into Caduceus’ embrace. He could feel the firbolg’s mass shaking against his side, chuckling at his reactions.

“One. That first little one looks OK. Is it supposed to be that small? I should really learn more about human anatomy, huh? Two…” Caduceus moved up one rib, and Caleb’s laughter pitched up despite himself, “Hmm, yeah, that looks good too. So, did you think of what could have happened, if you went to bed?””

“Whahat?” Caleb gasped, unable to grasp the question under the onslaught he was suffering. 

Luckily Caduceus didn’t need him to. “It could have punctured your lung. -Whoops, there’s three.- It could have killed you in your sleep. Four.”

Caduceus was a good way up his ribcage now, and the precision attacks on every solitary bone under thin skin was escalating Caleb’s desperation pretty rapidly. Being stretched out over Cad’s lap made it feel like his breath was being chased out of his chest by long downy fingers.

“Please! I’m sohohory!” He squeaked, heels drumming against the bed. 

“Someone would have found you, cold and dead in the morning. Five. You know, we might have been able to bring you back, but that scar? From finding you? That’s a lot harder to heal.”

Caleb felt a sharp roll of guilt across his stomach. Not that he could express it. “Ahahaha- I-I’m sorry, pleaheeheese!”

“Hm. Are you sorry you did it or are you sorry I caught you? Six.”

“Both!” Caleb squealed, perhaps a bit too honestly.

Caduceus chuckled at him again. “Well, at least I know you’re not hiding things from me anymore. Hmm… where’s seven?”

Caduceus fingers dug around curiously, pretending he couldn’t find the rib he was currently torturing. Caleb thrashed with tears springing into his eyes, but he made no progress in escaping at all. It was like being tormented by a fuzzy mountain. 

Caduceus made a frustrated sound, stopping his torment for a second. Caleb sucked in a few deep breaths.

“You made me lose count,” Caduceus explained, voice full of patently false regret, “I’m gonna have to start over.”

“Nein!” Caleb yelped 

“You’d better hope you have more than nine ribs.” Caduceus teased, laughing when Caleb let out a frustrated growl.

Caduceus’ fingers returned to his lowest short-rib and started counting them out again, quicker than before. This time Caleb was crying by 3, trying desperately to stay still and expel all his ticklish agony without making Caduceus start over again. 

“OK, I found seven this time. Are you ready?”

Caleb sobbed and shook his head no, but Caduceus continued anyway, ignoring his squeal.

“Pleaheeheese! Please, I’m sohohorry!”

“Eight. I do believe you, now,” the firbolg answered, “but the only way you’re getting out of this is to use that special word.  And since you’re too stubborn to use that thing when Jester tortures you for fun, I’m guessing you’re not gonna use it now, when you know you deserve it. Not for little old me.”

Little old Caduceus was currently tickling a powerful mage to tears without so much as a bother, but Caleb didn’t have the breath to point it out. The first time Caduceus had seen the Nein really tickle Caleb to pieces, he had broken it up. Jester had to have a patient talk about safewords to convince him it was OK. Now he was wielding it against Caleb, and if he could, the wizard definitely would have pouted about it. 

As it was his face was forced into a bright smile that he tried to hide against one bicep, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes to roll past pink cheeks and red ears. His feet kicked helplessly at the air when Cad’s fingers moved again.

“There’s nine. So I think you’re just gonna have to take this, but if you’re cooperative and not stubborn, we’ll get through it quicker, OK?”

Caleb wanted to wail that he didn’t know what that meant but settled for just wailing instead. Caduceus was quickly getting to the ticklish spots that his holsters usually protected.

“Ten. So, are you gonna do it again?”

Caleb felt a flash of panicked confusion before he remembered what had gotten him into this mess.

“Nein!” he wheezed between fits.

“Good to hear. Eleven. Why aren’t you gonna do it again?”

“Bitte! Pleheeheese I can’t” Caleb choked, breathless.

“Oh, yeah you can. Come on, why aren’t you gonna do it again?”

He switched to one finger and a lighter touch, leaving Caleb in hysterical waves of giggles while also giving him a chance to catch his breath a little.

“Because- it would- ahaha- upset theheehee others!”

“Hm. Well, I’ll take that for now. Twelve! Now, what’s gonna happen if you do it again?”

Caduceus had to realize that the shrieking wizard had no way to answer, so he answered for him.

“This is what happens, right? We have a zero tolerance policy from now on.”

Caleb sobbed and nodded in understanding, his whole body bending to try and save the one patch of ticklish skin without any success. Then Caduceus’ hand started to wriggle and prod into his armpit and his whole body jerked like he was electrified. 

“AAHahahaha nahahahaha!” Caleb couldn’t get enough of a break to beg for mercy.

“Hmm. Looks like that’s it. Is twelve the right number?”

“Yahahahas!”

“Oh, well, good to know then.”

Caduceus released him, letting the teary-eyed wizard’s arms snap down to belatedly shield his ribcage, his face disappearing into his hands while his body shuddered with laughter.

“Shh,” he soothed as though he wasn’t the perpetrator of Caleb’s state, “ just breath.”

Caleb tried, rolling onto his side to breath into Caduceus’ linen shirt. Hysterical, pitchy laughter jerked out of him when the other man tried to pat his back and immediately stopped with a soft apology.

“You… just… please never do that again.”

“I think that’s up to you, based on the arrangement we just agreed to…”

“-under torture!-”

“… and I mean, it’s gonna happen again. At least one more time tonight.”

There was a moment of heavy, terrified silence.

“…What?” Caleb felt like a cup of ice water had been poured down his back. His eyes went perfectly round.

“I said I was gonna check all your ribs. I feel like if I don’t follow though I’ll set a bad precedent.”

Caleb immediately tried to scramble away from Caduceus, and he would have hit the floor if the firbolg hadn’t reached out to grab him around his middle and hoist the smaller man into his lap.

 “Mist! Nein! You can’t, please!”

Caduceus started the patient, gentle work of getting a grip on the wriggling wizard in his lap. He kept his right arm looped around Caleb’s middle, his other arm working to try and grab a flailing wrist. When he wasn’t quite quick enough he made a frustrated sound in Caleb’s ear, right before planting a raspberry between the smaller man’s shoulder blades.

“Hold still!”

Caleb let out a wordless peal of squealing laughter under the onslaught of soft lips, velveteen nose and wooly beard. It bolted down his spine and made his whole upper body collapse.

One big, soft palm gripped his now-limp wrist and heaved it upward, exposing his currently un-tormented right side. Caduceus looped his right arm under Caleb’s captured one, bracing his palm on the back of the smaller man’s head. Caleb’s left arm was pinned against his chest as Caduceus’ other arm wrapped around him to keep him in his seat and hover downy fingers over Caleb’s exposed ribcage.

“Pleaheeheese you’ll kill meeeheehee!” Caleb whimpered through anticipatory laughter, eyes glued on Caduceus’ hovering hand. 

“Sssh.” The firbolg soothed into the back of Caleb’s head. “I’m not gonna kill you. We’re just gonna take it really easy, OK?”

His left hand started to rub Caleb’s side in smooth circles, each one climbing higher than that last

“Nooohoohoho!” Caleb whined, eyes squeezing shut as the firbolg’s fingers found his short rib. 

“One.”

“Bitte!” Caleb squealed through gritted teeth.

“I want you to repeat after me, OK?”

Caleb tried to turn and look at him, teary eyes astonished, as though Caduceus had asked him to move the moon.

“I -yeeheehee!- I can’t! Please!

“You can, I promise. We’re gonna start off really easy. How about “I deserve to live.”

“Whahahahaat? I can’t–”

“Two.”

“-Aaah! Nohoho! OK, ok, please!”

Caduceus only gave him a moment to take a breath before it spilled out “Ideservetolive!”

“Very good!” The hand holding Caleb in a half-nelson patted his head. “How about ‘I don’t deserve pain.’ for number three?”

“Ahahaa! Says the one torturing meheeheehe!”

“Ha! Are your ribs hurting? It’s a good thing I’m checking on them. Four.”

“Aaahaaa! I don’t deserve pain!”

“See, you’re doing great,” Caduceus praised, “we’ll be done in no time. I know this one’s going to be a little tough for you, are you ready? Five. I want you to say ‘I’m loved and I deserve that love.’”

 For the first time that night, Caduceus’ request made Caleb’s jaw lock up. 

“Nein— no, aah! I can’t!” He managed to whine through his teeth and the increasingly hysterical laughter that Caduceus was pulling out from deep in his chest.

“You have my permission not to believe all of these for now, but I want you to say every one. Six.” “AhahaHA! Nein, habt Mitleid! Mehehercy!”

Caduceus snorted. “On your ribs or on your low self-esteem? Actually, don’t waste your breath. I already know the answer. Seven.”

“Aaaaii! Please! I c- I can’t remember whahahat I’m supposed to sahahay!” Caleb sobbed, body starting to go limp with exhaustion in Caduceus’ arms.

The firbolg laughed, letting up for a moment to use his sleeve to wipe the tears off his captive’s cheeks. 

“I’m loved…”

“I’m… loved…” Caleb panted, his unpinned hand holding on to Caduceus’ currently-stilled tickling hand for dear life, as if it might save him.

“And I deserve that love.

Even breathless and exhausted, Caleb winced like the sentence left a bad taste in his mouth. “I… deserve that… love.”

“Hey, good job. That was one of the hard ones.”

The sound that started to flow out of Caleb was somewhere between a panicked giggle and an exhausted sob. One of the hard ones.

“For this one I’m gonna need the whole phrase. ‘My name is Caleb Widogast, and I am a good man’ Are you ready?”

“No! Please have mercy!”

“Aw, sorry buddy. Not this time. Eight…”

“NIEN, can’t– s'too m-muhuch pleaheese–”

“Nine indeed!” Caduceus chuckled, fingers jolting upward to take advantage of the joke. “It’s not too much. I know you can do it.”

“I c-c- NO PLEASE I can’t while you–  CAN’T! BITTE!" 

Caduceus chuckled, fingers jumping up to tweak the next rib and yank a short little scream out of Caleb before he stopped moving his fingers and froze, still and menacing.

"That’s ten. Come on. I can’t make you believe it but I’m gonna make you say it.”

Caleb’s weight was leaning into Caduceus’ chest, his head leaning back against one solid shoulder with his eyes closed as he gulped in breaths.

“I'm… a good man.”

“And what’s your name?”

“Caleb Widogast… is a good man.”

“Aw, very good.” Caduceus praised, squeezing Caleb in a small hug. “Ready? Almost finished. Eleven.”

Caleb didn’t even plead this time, he just started to laugh again with his head still thrown back against Caduceus’ shoulder. 

“Last one, I promise. I want you to say "I am going to take care of myself for the people who love me, or Caduceus is going to tickle me until I scream. Every time.”

“I CA- I CA- nohohoho! Too lohohong!”

“Twelve.”

Caleb’s back arched and his feet kicked while he shrieked, unable to get even the first part of the sentence out. Caduceus did have a little mercy, then, pausing to let Caleb suck in the breath he needed.

“I'mgoingtotakecare *pant* of myself *hic* forthepeople *hic* who love me or… *hic* this is what happens…”

“Every time.” Caduceus reminded him, tapping his fingers on Caleb’s top rib.

“Every time! Every time! Pleaheeheese!”

Finally, Caduceus let him go, angling himself so the wizard could flop over onto his bedspread. Caleb curled up on his side, face in his hands as the residual laughter started to slowly die down and the shuddering feeling in his bones faded.

“Do you wanna stay here tonight? Least I could do.”

Caleb unfurled with a heavy sigh. “Ja, please." 

"Hey Caleb? What time is it?”

“Ah… *hic* probably between 10 and midnight, why?”

“Oh. No reason." 

Caleb could see the firbolg’s smug little smile, but was entirely too tired to do anything about it. 

Caduceus started to shrug off his outer layers and lowered the lamp while Caleb tucked himself in up against the wall.

"So just to be clear, this is what happens when you dodge a healing spell–”

“Yes! Yes *hic* you’ve made your point!”

“-But it’s going to get worse every time.”

Caleb just whimpered into the pillow. 

“I mean,” Cad continued, “getting Jester involved is obviously the last resort. She is the ultimate escalation. And Molly’s not far behind. Maybe Beau first?”

“Nien!” Caleb jerked himself up in the bed in a panic. “Not Beau! She’s right under Molly. Not Beau.”

Caduceus chuckled, sliding himself into the big warm bed next to Caleb. 

“So that leaves Yasha, Fjord and Veth. Wanna fill out the ranking?”

Caleb chuckled a little along with him, then whined. 

“Nooo. I feel like I’m being made to dig my own grave.”

“If it makes you feel better, you’ve definitely already done that. I saw that reaction to the raspberry. That’s how I’m counting next time.”

Caleb groaned in the back of his throat. The threats felt like they were melting him.

“Mein gotten, to think I used to believe you were the nice one.”

Caduceus chuckled again. He slung one arm over the Caleb ball next to him and pulled the wizard in for a cuddle, rubbing his back soothingly when the other man tensed up. 

“Hey, I’m done. For now. Seriously though, who’s most dangerous after Beau.”

Caleb gave a defeated sigh as he relaxed into Caduceus’ soft, solid embrace. The softly lit room took on a golden haze. Caduceus smelled like spices, cardamom and rosemary. Caleb hid his face in one wolly shoulder, his breathing evening out.

“Fjord because he teases, then Yasha because she bites.”

“Heh. So Veth’s the first level of escalation? Good to know. She seems more likely to keep this between us anyway… Caleb?" 

The only answer was a snore.