#ohhh that dreamy gaze

[harleehazbinfics]

Idk if ur doing cannibal reader but just imagine her and alastor teasing her and her just short circuiting and he keeps flirting with her and she s literally almost dies again lolz (also i love ur work sm)

Trying to Flirt with You

Cannibal chef! reader m.list | Author profile

A/N: THIS GAVE ME OHHH ASHLEYYY GLASHBACKS OH MY GODD thank you for liking my fics hsdshd. I didn't do the request 1-to-1 cause i was satisfied how this turned out hsadas I WANT YALL TO SEE HIM BE AFFECTIONATE UNDER ALL THAT EXTERIOR AND WHAT HE DOES WITH HER BEHIND CLOSED DOORS

"Oh, (y/n)~"

You place your eyes on Alastor as he settles his chin on his laced fingers and smiles at you seductively. You flush and hiccup when you see his heated gaze, your eyes turning to their irregular heart shapes.

The both of you were enjoying a wonderful meal together in his room like you usually would, however he's never called you like this before.

"Yes, sir?" you sputter wiping your mouth with a napkin.

"I was just wondering how your eyes turn that way," he says while smiling at you, "I find it quite cute."

You choke on your own spit at his complements, unsure how to react to his flirty remarks. It didn't help that the radio filter enhanced everything. You covered your mouth and fanned yourself from the massive blush you had on your face.

Sure, you were used to love bombing him and all, but you never outright flirted with him since he seemed to dislike other people's advances on him. So, to not end up on his bad side you settled to a more comfortable area where he won't despise you, but he knows that you appreciate him.

So, this was entirely new to you. He never reciprocated any of your affection so what were you supposed to do?! There was no handbook for this!

"Isn't it getting hot in here? Why don't I open a champagne--" You stopped from getting up when he snapped his fingers, a shadow puppet came and delivered the champagne in their glasses while another shadow pushed you back down on your chair scooted it closer to the table.

"How about I take care of that? We've known each other for so long but I want to get to know the real you better," he replies, "I have known for a long time that you're a fantastic cook! You failed to mention however that you went to culinary school and~ owned a restaurant of your own!"

"That is commendable on itself! Why, aren't you just the perfect partner for a cannibal overlord," He claps at your achievements.

"Partner?" you whisper sweat dripping from your form squirming from the amount of attention you're receiving.

"Why, of course! If not my partner, then what else!" he laughs heartily with a laughing track, "unless, of course, you mean to be my spouse?"

Your head exploded at the thought, your heart squeezed and pulled. S-spouse? to Alastor? That was just a wishful dream you had! You never thought he'd utter the words you only dreamed to hear. Several years of you imagining to his significant other, you never imagine he'd open the possibility of it.

While you head was running around, currently, you slumped on the chair as smoke came from your head as you muttered words to yourself with a dreamy smile with an unfocused look in your eyes that maintained their heart shape.

"Oh, (y/n)?" Alastor tries again to gain your attention and pull you from your daydreaming.

However, he unsuccessful. So, he just sighs in defeat with a chuckle and took your hand that was left on the table and caressed your knuckles with his thumb as his chin rested on the other as he admired your dazed form.

He barely started his conversation with you, and you've already turned out like this. It seems he'll have to be patient with you.

🔗Cannibal Chef!Reader Taglist:

@bonnie-02, @marxo5, @whaatttlaufey, @froggybich, @rybunnie, @midorichoco, @lucifers-silhouette, @kimmis-stuff, @bontensbabygirl, @janey, @akiqvq, @wonderlandangelsposts, @spoiled-slutt, @roboticsuccubus83, @atlas-rin, @yuriohoe04, @azullynxx, @milk-bulb, @rainynyy, @s2tng

[pinkchangelingdemon]

RENT

My landlord was an asshole. His name was Scott. Always complaining about doing the bare minimum. I froze for two whole months waiting for him to repair the heating, but hey! don't be late with the rent or he'll kick you out the next day!

One of my neighbours, Ms Everett, a charming old lady, told me that things weren't always like this.

-You see, Scott's mother owned the building. She was a lovely woman, always so helpful. She even organised "rooftop barbecues" from time to time for the tenants to mingle - she said with dreamy eyes.

-That sounds really nice, Miss Everett

Then her expression shifted.

-But two years ago, she got sick. Everyone visited her at the hospital, except his own son Scott.

-What a massive asshole.- I said, not really surprised.

She nodded.

-Sadly, I agree. After she passed, Scott inherited the building and her money. Some tenants couldn't stand him and left. I... can't leave... so it's always nice that good people like you coming to live here.

The way she said she couldn't leave was strange, but another thought came into my mind. I had to tell her.

-Scott... he's going to kick me out, Mis Everett... I lost my job and didn't pay the monthly fee...

-Oh child...

She got sad, but I could see in her eyes she was planning something. Maybe I was imagining it.

I was desperate. I couldn't go back to my hometown to live with my homophobic father. Not again.

-Maybe I have a solution for you - she finally said serious.

Hope at last.

-I'll accept whatever it...- I started to say before someone interrupted me.

-HEY! YOU OWE ME MONEY, DUDE!

It was Scott.

I started to tremble.

-Scott... I... I...- I stuttered

-DUDE! I DON'T WANT FUCKING EXCUSES!

I was scared, but at the same time, I was a little aroused. Scott was a douchebag, but he was hot. The image of him angry in his sweaty and revealing gym clothes was making it difficult to decide if I was scared or turned on.

Then, I stared at his bulge, visible through his gym shorts.

He saw me distracted, and followed my gaze.

-YOU FAG, YOU ARE SO OUT OF MY BUILDING, DUDE.

Then I remembered we weren't alone. I din't want Miss Everett to be part of this.

I looked at my right, but she wasn't there. I breathed relieved. For an old lady, she really was sneaky.

-YOU PAYING ATTENTION, DUDE?

Scott pushed me.

I wasn't able to keep my balance and I fell to the ground.

My head hurt. I didn't know if it was from the fall, but I was hearing a woman singing in a language I didn't understand. The voice was somehow familiar.

I yawned.

All the problems, Scott, my father, my head... seemed foreign to me. I was feeling very tired.

-The fu...- Scott tried to say sleepy.

He closed his eyes and was about to fall on top of my tired body. My body didn't respond. I saw him fell, but before the impact I lost consciouness.

...

I opened my eyes. I was in Miss Everett's house?

-The fuck...?

I panicked. That was Scott's voice, but I was the one who said that, right?

-Shh child, you need to rest - Miss Everett reasured me.

I breathed relieved, closed my eyes again and sleep.

...

A few hours later, I screamed.

-WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON!?- I yelled shocked staring at my now big and muscular arms.

Then I looked at the rest of my bigger body. Pillow pecs? abs? muscular legs? a beard?

In disbelief, I connected the dots. That wasn't my body and I was wearing Scott clothes. I was my asshole but hot landlord.

From the stress and the fall I must have finally lost my mind.

I massaged my pecs, they felt pretty real and amazing.

Then, I flexed my right arm and sniffed my armpit. That was my landlords smell, or... my smell?

The realization of being in my sweaty landlord body woke up my now bigger dick trying to get out of his shorts.

-OHHH FUCK!- I moaned.

In my previous twink body, that thick dick would have destroyed me for sure.

I moaned again at the thought of getting some action with this stallion.

My hands pulled down the gym shorts I was wearing. Of course, Scott's package matched in size with the rest of his body.

I began to stroke my borrowed dick, while my other hand started massaging my hairy sack to finally move to my hairier and probably virgin ass.

The masculine moans were louder, and hearing my landlord voice only made me more horny. After all, I was making the body I had been lusting moan without control.

I was so intoxicated by the power and pleasure of this body that I completely forgot I was masturbating and loudly moaning in my neighbours couch.

After a few minutes of exploring that sweaty hunk body, I felt my cock tensed up. With a primal but masculine moan my previous body could only dream to emit, I released load after load of my landlords cum.

My furry chest and the couch were a sticky mess.

I felt so euphoric and still so horny that I licked all of the cum I could. Savoring the taste of MY cum.

While I was licking it, I heard footsteps approaching.

I stopped abruptly with drops of cum in my beard.

It was Miss Everett, but she looked younger?

-Well, well, dirty boy, I see you are enjoying your new life,uh?

Something was definitely wrong with her. She looked younger, her voice sounded somehow masculine? And her kind expression was now sharpened and smiled, but not like a sweet old lady. There was something evil in his gaze.

-Miss.. Miss... Everett.. I am so sorry- I said ashamed trying to cover the snake bouncing between my legs with a cushion.

She laughed but with an strange echo.

- Don't be, child. I am after all the one who made you look like this.

- Wait, what? - I yelled surprised.

- You are so naive, child. I like that in a man. - she smiled - You see, I'm a demon. I wasn't always like this - she said pointing at herself with disgust while getting older again- but someone trapped me here, inside of this building, in this female flesh a long time ago.

"A demon? Yeah, why not?" I thought.

If I somehow possessed my landlords body, demons being real wasn't really a big deal.

- But... I saw you outside the building many times.

She took a deep breath.

- This flesh can leave and she doesn't know for how long she has been alive, but me, a male demon, I am doomed to stay and wait for her return, only to be a passenger of her boring life.

-Oh, I see... - I tried to keep my cool- but why help me and not yourself?

She smiled rejuvenating again.

- I need your help, dummie.- she smiled again- Also maybe all of these years inside this woman made me a softie.

-A favor for a favor, I see...- I hesitated- What do you need Miss... demon?

-Oh just a drop of your blood and I need you to say "I free you, dude"- She said mocking Scott's voice.

I took a step back.

-My...my blood, why?

She shook her head.

-Not "your" blood, I need the blood of the asshole heir of the greatest son of a bitch who trapped me here.

She pointed at me to state the obvious. Scott's family was connected to the demon.

-You really need my help, uh? - I said with Scott cocky actitude- what if I don't help you "demon"?

The old lady sighed.

-Here we go again... First, demons aren't evil, well some of them are... I'm a lust demon. I only care for pleasure and sex, not harvesting souls and shit. - she explained annoyed, but then her expression shifted. She was deadly serious now - Second, if you don't help me... I'll make sure that Scott beats the shit out of you before you go back with your "dear" father. Don't fuck with me, child - her expression shifted again, now she weared Miss Everett charming smile like a mask- Third, don't forget if you help me you win this sweaty hunk and all his money, sweet child.

I looked at my pecs and muscular arms. Then, I thought of my shitty father waiting for me in my hometown.

-We have a deal.

She gave me a needle.

-Just one drop, dear.

I pricked one of my fingers.

-I free you, demon - I said solemn with my landlords voice.

Miss Everett licked with her old tongue my finger.

That was so gross. I looked away for an entire minute.

-It's done - said a masculine voice which sounded similar to Scott's.

I looked at the demon. He was an exact copy of my naked landlord body but with red eyes.

He massaged his dick while biting his lip.

-Oh fuck, how I missed having one of these.

I was so turned on looking at him enjoying himself that I massaged my identical dick enjoying the views.

The demon smiled seductively at me. Then he looked around him annoyed.

-Ugh, I can't stand another second in this fucking building.

He scratched his naked ass and a red card appeared in his hand. He gave it to me.

-Meet me here, and we'll have a good time - he winked at me while rubbing my crotch.

I closed my eyes while moaning.

When I opened them, the demon had already left.

I scratched my borrowed beard wondering what just happened. Not too much though, because Scott's dick... I mean... My dick was demanding attention.

I opened the door of my new apartment, removed my sweaty gym clothes, releasing my hard dick, ready for round two.

Part 2?

Part 2:

[blithesharem]

What about a drabble based on the prompt "I didn't think I was your type"? 👀

Ohhh Thank You!

So many boys this would be good for (Lev and Satan were top of mind) but of course it had to be Solomon...

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting for this?”

His murmur is soft, a gentle expression of longing, not a reprimand. You smile, turning into the warmth of Solomon’s chest and trailing a hand back up to stroke the nape of his neck. It’s warm in his room, the fire still flickering golden light across his walls, sheets bunched up under his fluffy comforter on his bed.

“Well, what took you so long?” you tease, and he gives his familiar half grin, leaning to meet you in a long kiss. You sigh, lashes falling closed as the arm around your waist pulls you more tightly against him. Here, in this moment, all the panic and chaos that had come to define your time in this world seemed far away.

The kiss breaks slowly, and you watch as Solomon’s gaze fall adoringly down your face, lazing onward to where your bodies are still pressed together. He lets out an exhaled half laugh that ruffles the hair on your brow.

“Well. I suppose I just didn’t think I was your type.” Solomon says it with his typical off handedness, humor sparkling in his eyes and a tease on his lips. But you hear what he doesn’t say all the same.

I didn’t think I could compete.

I didn’t think I would be good enough.

I didn’t think I was what you wanted.

You swallow at the tightness in your throat and kiss him again, more firmly this time, trying to speak your own silent words.

I want you.

There’s no one else.

You’re perfect just as you are.

“So much for the wise sorcerer…” you huff, and he laughs again, and this time there’s no tension hiding behind it.

“Clearly I have much to learn,” he replies, and it’s the last words that are spoken between you for the rest of the dreamy night.

[phantomspiderr]

By Any Means ║ Part 1

Pairing: Joel Miller x *f!reader

Word Count: 1.3k+

Summary: pre-outbreak life was blissful. You’d just begun to settle into your new home with Joel & his daughter and everything seemed perfect

Warnings/Tags: tlou hbo spoilers, major character death(if you’ve watched episode one you know it’s coming), unspecified age gap, mentions of blood, trauma, there’s also mentions of food & eating, crying, promise there is a little fluff too

a/n: ohhh I’ve been working on this nonstop for a little bit and I’ve never been so scared but so excited to post something ever. I truly hope you love it as much as I have, it’s not a finished series. I have about 9 chapters done and they’re all sort of little stories within my own little tlou universe. But yeah love you, appreciate you, hope you have a wonderful day🤍

*no real description of reader or gender as far as I know but I've written it with a female reader in mind

series masterlist | phantomspiderr masterlist

“Eat up kid, big game today.” Joel presses a kiss to Sarah’s head before he joins her at the small kitchen table, a cup of fresh coffee in hand. The smell of a good home-cooked breakfast wafting through the whole house, and Joel eyes up Sarah’s plate to see what’s in store for him.

Mornings like this were always his favourite. He’ll wake up just before his morning alarm, which gives him a good excuse to just lay there for a few moments of calm. He normally finds you still sleeping next to him, and he gets to start off his day admiring your peaceful form before you eventually wake. If he’s extra lucky, that morning you’ll wake up before the alarm too, and you can spend a few more intimate moments together. Then, when the bedside clock starts ringing you’ll both reluctantly get up, Joel usually hops in the shower while you join Sarah downstairs and help her make breakfast. Once Joel’s freshly showered and descending the stairs, he hears the laughter coming from the kitchen, and he finds himself stopping for just a second to listen to the heavenly sound. His house had finally started to feel more like a home, his two favourite people under the same roof, safe and happy, life had started to be kinder to him, and it all felt like a dream.

“Thank you darlin’,” he’s pulled from his dreamy state as you place a plate full of food right in front of him. His arm snakes around your waist, and he looks up at you with a content look settled on his face. Your fingers gently scratch against his jaw before you lean down to press a kiss to his lips, only lingering for a moment.

“Eating!” Sarah mumbles out before stuffing a forkful into her mouth, and both you and Joel chuckle. Reluctantly, you pull yourself away from the table, returning to the kitchen counter to get your own plate while Joel and Sarah fall into easy conversation while they eat. They're talking about Sarah's upcoming soccer game when you join them, Joel as always being the lovingly doting father.

You always enjoyed watching the pair interact. Their undeniable bond is rare, like ever seeing Halley's comet in the night sky. The way they both affectionately poke fun at each other never fails to bring a smile to your face. They both like to tell you stories about the other, trying their best to embarrass each other. It doesn't matter how many times you've heard the same stories or the number of times they interrupt each other, you feel this sense of love surround you.

Sarah had been nothing but welcoming of you, even so much, so she'd admitted to wanting to dislike the whole idea of you and her father dating, but that it had been impossible when she saw how happy he was with you. Joel had waited months to officially tell her, though you'd never admit to him that she already knew, that his brilliant daughter had already worked it out months prior at one of Tommy's barbecues. Even though by then you'd only been together a few weeks, but Sarah had quickly caught onto her slightly grumpy father's longing gazes and too-bright of smiles.

"Alright c'mon go get yourselves ready," Joel looks at his wrist, forgetting for a moment that the watch he was looking for was not there. With a quiet huff, he looks up to the clock on the wall, "we're leaving in a half hour." He shovels the remainder of his breakfast into his mouth, chewing quickly before downing the rest of his coffee. Sarah almost mirrors her father's actions, quickly finishing off her food before downing the rest of her orange juice. Both get up from the table to dispose of their dishes in the sink while you finish eating. Then Sarah disappears upstairs to change for her game while Joel pours himself another cup of coffee. He stood at the kitchen sink looking out the window for a moment before he turns to you with a smile as you approach him. It changes to a half-hearted glare as you shoo him just out of the way, so you can begin washing the dishes. As you start filling the sink with hot, soapy water, Joel goes back to looking out the window and drinking his coffee.

"s'gonna be a good day darlin'," Joel wraps an arm around your middle, pulling himself into you and pressing a loving kiss to your cheek. You crane your neck to look at him again, both intoxicated by the natural domesticity surrounding you. At that moment you so badly want to run a hand through his hair, but your wet soapy hands halt that idea, instead gripping onto the edge of the sink. You twist yourself just enough, so you can kiss him, it's quick almost barely there, but it makes him smile. A sight you think you could look at forever.

Life seems to be full of beautiful, picture-perfect moments like this until suddenly it's not.

~

Utterly devastating. Those are the only words you can think to describe the scene you’ve witnessed. Those words don’t even do it justice, it was heartbreaking, soul-destroying.  It’s been days, and you can still hear her pained cries. The image of her lifeless body in Joel’s arms as he sobbed for his lost daughter burned into your memory. It was consuming your every thought, no matter how much you tried it was still there just playing on loop in your mind.

The days since the outbreak—since Sarah’s death—had been hard, to say the least. Tommy, Joel, and yourself had managed to make it to the highway and had been holed up in a triage clinic since. None of you had gotten much sleep at all, least of all Joel, who you’re sure hasn’t slept more than an hour each day. He’d barely eaten and most of the day would just sit silently staring at the blank white wall. His clothes were still stained with blood and quite frankly he looked awful, you had never seen him in a way quite like this before. It was as if a switch had flipped the moment she’d died, the once endearing, happy-grumpy man you loved was gone and in his place stood a cold, harsh ghost.

You imagined lots of people were like that too now, broken families crowding all around, waiting for the government's next point of call. A variety of people crying for what you assume are lost family members; partners, children, pets, and homes. Your heart breaks for each one of them. Thinking about the other people around takes your mind away from your own heartbreak. Though Sarah was not your own flesh and blood, you’d always treated her as if she was. You’d spent countless nights watching movies till late while you waited for Joel to get home. You would make dinner together and anchor yourselves in front of the tv all evening, laughing and commentating the whole time. Not only that, but you had even started meeting her after school on a Friday, and the pair of you would go to the diner down the street. She’d always get a burger with fries and a large milkshake, every week, without fail. Sarah had even started to confide in you, things she didn’t want to talk to her dad about. Secrets she seemed to only trust you with, and it made you feel special that she trusted you in such a way.

“You alright?” A foot knocks against yours, and Tommy’s voice draws you out of your spiralling thoughts. Looking up, Tommy seems like he towers above you from where you’re sitting on the floor. He nods at you with raised eyebrows when you don’t answer straight away, and it’s only then you feel the wetness on your cheeks.

“’M’fine,” you drop your head and quickly wipe at your face, feeling as if you almost don’t deserve to shed any tears.

“You’re not fine.” Tommy moves to sit next to you, he holds a bottle of water out toward you. Gratefully, you take the bottle and watch as Tommy’s head then falls back against the wall with a gentle thud, “none of us are fine.”

[popcorn1989]

Pairing: Hvitserk and Ivar

Words: 1175 (Oops, got a bit too long)

Warning: Nothing, Water, Fish, Summer?

Note: This is the first time I have participated in something like a challenge. This one is for the Hot Summer Challenge by @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie Hope I did everything right. I took the Fishing prompt.

"Oh man," Ivar moaned to himself, the fishing net resting on his lap. He looked at his brother, but he did not react. So he started another attempt to finally get his brother's attention.

"Oh man, it's hot"

Hvitserk looked from the water to him, he put his eyebrows together for a moment and laughed. Ivar looked at him and narrowed his eyes. "What, you're sitting here, torso exposed and wearing a straw hat".

"I told you not to forget your straw hat"

"And I told you it looked stupid!" Ivar tore at the knot in the net, slowly his nerves were failing him to untangle this web. Hvitserk looked around, "I don't see anyone, we are out on the lake fishing, do you really think anyone cares how we look doing it?"

"It's bloody hot, Hvitserk."

"Oh, Hvitserk, let's go fishing. I've never been fishing before, and it's nice weather" Ivar threw the fishing net off his legs and looked at him crossly "Yes, but now I don't think it's so nice, besides it's boring"

"What did you think? That we would jump in, catch the fish with our bare hands and squeeze their throats? That they'd fight back with swords and go to war?" Hvitserk couldn't help grinning widely.

"No, but I thought we'd move faster, and this stupid net… where did you get it? It's like you just reached into your wife's wardrobe" Ivar threw up his hands.

"What, where, please, should women wear those clothes on their bodies? Not that I mind" Hvitserk cocked his head to one side and looked dreamy.

"It's hot, and I don't feel like it anymore!" spoke Ivar and cried out as Hvitserk stood up, and the boat started to wobble, "What are you doing?"

"We're swapping places, you watch the rod and I try to untangle the net"

"No, you sit down again, you goat" Ivar said in panic and grabbed the railing with both hands.

"Ivar" spoke Hvitserk and sat down again, "You can't fall out, besides I would jump in immediately and save you. Even if you can stand here, in the water. For we have not gone far out"

"We are far enough" Ivar spoke in a huff as his gaze fell to the land, then he looked touched at his brother, "You would jump right after and save me?"

Hvitserk looked confused at Ivar and laughed out "Of course, just to push you deeper into the water"

"Oh, a true brother" Ivar said offended and was about to grab the net when Hvitserk pulled it towards him and started to do his work. "I do what I can" Hvitserk spoke and laughed, he took the straw hat off his head and handed it to Ivar.

"You don't really think I'm going to put that thing on?" disgusted, Ivar looked at the old straw hat

"Better than having the blazing sun on your head, isn't it? You have black hair and that means that…."

"Yaha, shut your mouth" Ivar interrupted him and accepted the straw hat.

Hvitserk watched Ivar put on the straw hat and started laughing. "Right," he said, in between his laughing fit. Annoyed, he looked at his brother, "What do you mean?"

"Looks stupid on you" laughed Hvitserk, when Ivar reached for the hat, Hvitserk stood up again and Ivar clawed against the wood. "Leave him on" said Hvitserk seriously.

"Okay, okay, but then sit the hell back down!"

Hvitserk sat down slowly, but immediately stood up again when Ivar tried to reach for the hat. "I don't want to be to blame if the sun burns your mind".

"Why did I have that idea?" asked Ivar as he hung his head over the rail, ready to vomit his breakfast, but the boat fell silent as Hvitserk sat down again.

"Because you wanted to do something with your favorite brother" he spoke and Ivar saw how proud he looked at that. "Never" spoke Ivar.

"If I have an idea like that again, talk me out of it".

"OHHH" cried Hvitserk as the fishing rod started to move. Ivar's eyes snapped open, is this the first fish in hours? He watched his brother as he pulled the rod and tried to get the fish out of the water.

"Damn it's stubborn, do I have an Ivar on my line?" shouted Hvitserk, who took a few steps backwards and tried to hold the line tight.

"Maybe it's a mermaid?" said Ivar, trying to see what was on the rod. "Please what?" came incredulously from Hvitserk, who was now leaning far back and looked confusedly at Ivar,

"A mermaid! You know, those women with fins for legs".

Hvitserk laughed out "The sun has already made you crazy" he took another step backwards when he got tangled in the fishing net and stumbled. He fell over the railing and landed in the water. Ivar saw the string snap, and it floated loosely on the surface of the water.

"Quick, quick, she's not moving".

"Yes I am fine, thank you for asking" Hvitserk spoke, standing up, the water reaching his knee. Ivar looked at him questioningly.

"You should get in the water and cool off" he said as he walked through the water and round the boat. Ivar pointed to the place where he saw the string.

"There, there" he spoke excitedly. "I see it, I am not blind" his brother said annoyed and took the string in his hand. Slowly he rolled it up on his finger and followed its trail.

"So, is it a mermaid?" asked Ivar, watching his brother as he stood on one spot and gazed into the water.

Hvitserk looked briefly at Ivar and became serious. "That can't be true" Ivar's eyes widened, and he leaned over the railing to see what his brother was looking at. "She is beautiful, but smaller than I thought," Hvitserk said and looked into the water again.

"Can you, can you lift her … can you lift her out of the water?" Ivar was so excited that he bobbed back and forth and nodded as if trying to motivate his brother.

"I can try," Hvitserk said and bent down, his hands were deep in the water, and he was really struggling "AH," he shouted, "She bit me, but I think I've got her!" he shouted to Ivar who was watching expectantly with his mouth open, watching everything.

Slowly Hvisterk straightened up and grinned broadly, an old shoe appeared, and he laughed even more as Ivar looked at him in offense, "If that's your mermaid I'd like to see what you do with it."

"Shut up" Ivar spoke and sat back in the boat looking away from him. Hvitserk dropped the shoe and walked to the boat.

"Brother, what do you say we go home and have a cold beer to calm our minds?"

Slowly, Ivar looked at him and nodded. "Not a word… to anyone" he spoke as Hvitserk slowly pushed the boat towards the shore, "Never!" said Hvitserk and laughed again.

[archesa]

6 of the niche kisses for canach to (I forget how to spell his name) jwhcjc sorry

Ohhh! My starlight & fireflies twigs! 🥰🌵🍂 I don't nearly write about them enough, so it's takes a little time to get them just right! Also they had a mind of their own in the first version of the answer (one that I might post if it should interest anyone ^^ although author declines all responsibility for homoeroticism, jealousy, pettiness and destruction of furniture that may or may not ensue!) so here’s a second one, closer to what I had originally planned for them!

6) Canach slowly kisses each of Galaëd's fingertips.

He stared blankly, his fingers blackened and burned where they had held Rorschach's mangled corpse, the pain all but forgotten in the wake of his miraculous resurrection, but the damage still there, if he tried to hide it.

The sound of glass against wood made him jolt.

Canach offered an apologetic glance and silently sat across the table, purple eyes never leaving his as he unpacked his supplies. The strong scent of mint filled the air, stirring him from his frozen contemplation.

“Show me.”

He obeyed, letting Canach's thumb trace along his wrist and open his clenched fists to assess the damage. A few splinters had broken from his bark - coal and ashes rather than flesh - leaving his fingers raw and tender, a blinding, fiery, molten glow radiating through paper thin skin.

"Doesn't look too grave."

Galaëd remained silent, his voice all but forgotten and the words turning to ashe in his mouth when Canach took the balm and started applying it on his wounds. The salve melted and seeped into his flesh, the cold washing away some of the pain, all but extinguishing the fire beneath and leaving him shivering.

He looked up to the mercenary, finding him frozen, dark eyed and pensive as their fingers intertwined. Canach met his gaze, a lime green glow enlightening his features.

“There’s not much else to do... Unless..."

His breath caught in his throat, luminescence shimmering under Canach's touch as the warrior brought his hand to his lips and laid a kiss at the base of his thumb, a light brush, tender yet eager. He asserted the wide eyes and dreamy smile of the mesmer — his glow almost blinding and the stars in his aura blinking back to light — before he moved to his forefinger, kissing each phalanx softly.

“Better?”

Galaëd took in a shuddering breath and leaned into Canach's touch, holding his hand and vowing to never let go.

"Much better."

[sxlver-sweet]

Ohhh what if?? It's just chifuyu's nightmare? And his s/o is cooing him now cause he started crying?? I can't it's so sad the pang in my heart can't take it 😭😭 let's just make it a nightmare for a bby chifuyu 😭

— HEARTBEATS AND PROMISE RINGS <3

|| m.lists || taglist form ||

ROSTER . . . chifuyu matsuno

SYNOPSIS . . . you’re dead. you’re—are you really, though? // fluff continuation of this request

CONTAINS . . . blood, death, swearing, a happy ending :)

NOTE . . . i’m so glad you submitted this. i wrote this request with a headache as well, so i’m sorry if it isn’t as good as you had been hoping. there’s likely some typos and mistakes in here.

ADDRESSED TO . . . @rengokuswife8989 @kuroiza @sanelly @florssils @dazaisusedbandages

“chifuyu? hey!”

a gasp is wrenched from chifuyu’s throat. his eyes snap open and he bolts upright, his motions so abrupt that he feels his head spin and a wave of nausea crash over him. sirens of alarm blare in his mind, each of his nerve endings set ablaze by a sense of panic that leaves him scrambling to discover why the weight of your body is now absent from his arms. his nail beds are no longer encrusted with dried blood from now long he’d sat there and clutched desperately at your lifeless body. instead, they’re now slick with perspiration and trembling with a fervor so far beyond his control that he can’t even properly form a fist, his knuckles kissed with a shade of white that makes his stomach churn with grim reminders of your—

death?

the haze finally clears from chifuyu’s eyes, leaving him frozen with perplexity as he focuses on the wall across the room—the wall that’s… decorated with polaroids? what the hell?

“chifuyu, are you alright?”

your voice, that was the reason he sat there on the ground with your body cradled against his chest, his laughter nothing more than a piss-poor attempt at consoling himself and beguiling his mind as he recounted moments where he thought he looked really cool during the brawl, hoping—no, praying—that somehow you would answer him and call him a fool for behaving so recklessly… just like you always did.

your voice, that was the reason he sat there on the ground with your body cradled against his chest, his laughter nothing more than a piss-poor attempt at consoling himself and beguiling his mind as he recounted moments where he thought he looked really cool during the brawl, hoping—no, praying—that somehow you would answer him and call him a fool for behaving so recklessly… just like you always did.

your voice, that was the reason he sat there on the ground with your body cradled against his chest, his laughter nothing more than a piss-poor attempt at consoling himself and beguiling his mind as he recounted moments where he thought he looked really cool during the brawl, hoping—no, praying—that somehow you would answer him and call him a fool for behaving so recklessly… just like you always did.

your voice.

it isn’t until now that he finally registers the presence of a hand resting on his shoulder, its warmth seeping through the fabric of his wrinkled t-shirt and blooming like sunflowers cross his skin, quelling the goosebumps blanketing his body and offering a sense of solace that’s hauntingly familiar.

you’re sitting there beside him, eyes bleary with fatigue and the mellow lighting of the lamp beside you reflecting off your shadowed irises. your skin is pristine, a blank canvas unsullied by smears of crimson and grime. candlelit embers of concern are quick to banish the dreamy fog clouding your gaze, coalescing in worried realization before dispersing into a multifaceted prism—shattering into so many shards that it’s difficult to keep up with the ever-changing emotions revolving through your eyes as you hastily move your hands to caress his face. the light in your eyes is so radiant—so pure. no, forget that. there's light in your eyes.

just as there should be.

which means… you’re okay. you’re alive.

“hey, you okay?” breath stuttering with relief, he grips your wrists and leans into your touch. thank god. thank god. thank god. your pulse thrums beneath his palms, but he pays no heed to its erratic pace. all he can focus on is the telltale sign that you’re still here with him. “you were having a nightmare. what happened? you’re—you’re crying.”

“what?” suddenly, chifuyu’s aware of the presence of tears balanced on his lashes, gliding over your fingers in glistening rivulets before dripping into the space between you. he sniffs and scrubs the heels of his hands under his eyes, still reeling from the traumatic event—no, dream—that he’d just awoken from. “sorry,” he mumbles, but truthfully, he doesn’t know what he’s apologizing for. perhaps it’s because all of this is probably spooking you. perhaps it’s because he doesn’t entirely know why he’s crying. or, perhaps…

perhaps it’s because every apology that had spewed from his lips before never reached your ears.

perhaps it’s because this is the first apology you’re actually alive to hear.

“no, don’t apologize.” you scoot closer, drawing his head down to place a gentle kiss to his forehead while he murmurs intelligible apologies jumbled with praises to god—praises that you don’t quite comprehend. “you want to talk about it?”

he shakes his head. “no, no… it’s fine. i…” he exhales shakily, “can we just…”

“yeah,” without requiring the rest of his request, you nod understandingly, a kind smile set in place. eyes still blurred with tears, chifuyu blindly fumbles his way beneath the blankets and relies on your guiding hands to pull him close. he can hear the steady rhythm of your breathing and feel the flexing of your muscles as you stretch out on your side, his head nestled snugly beneath your chin and one arm tossed over your waist. you slide the fingers of one hand through his hair to massage soothing circles into his scalp, softly kissing the top of his head and shushing him as he buries his face into your shoulder. he clings to you, basking in the familiar scent of your fabric softener and allowing the steady thumping of your heartbeat to lull him into a state of tranquility and rest. gradually but surely, his breathing eases, the tightness in his chest decompresses, and the faint trembling of his hands stills.

it’s okay. everything’s okay.

“you have that brawl tomorrow, you know.” you remind him quietly. “you should try to get some—”

“i’m not going.”

“huh?” at this, you withdraw slightly, eyes round with dismay. “you’re not going? you never miss—”

“i’m missing this one.” chifuyu responds firmly, voice muffled by the fabric of your shirt. how could he not? after all, it’s this particular fight that set the stage for your untimely death. tomorrow, according to his dream, one of you is supposed to die; and, although he would prefer for it to be him instead, he would rather that neither of you have to die at all. baji can taunt him all he wants for staying home, and mikey can be as pissed as he wants to be. he’s not going—not after that. “i’m sure it wouldn’t hurt to take a day off.”

“alright,” you muse, taking a second to mull over his decision. “well, what are you going to do instead?”

chifuyu pauses for a moment. what is he going to do? there’s nothing to do, except—

“what’s up?” you inquire, feeling his head shift slightly.

“do you want to, uh…” chifuyu doesn’t dare lift his face from your shoulder, already well aware that his cheeks are more than likely a bright shade of scarlet. he swallows back his anxiety, reluctantly mumbling, “i think we should get matching rings tomorrow.”

“you mean promise rings?” a note of laughter trills in your voice. “that’s what you want to do on your day off? we can do that anytime.”

“yeah, but,” chifuyu hesitates, his breath snagging in his throat as memories of your bloodstained, lifeless figure draped over his lap abruptly flash through his mind. “you… never know when something will happen, so i just think we shouldn’t hesitate for too long. besides, i’ve been saving up some money, and there’s this jewelry store i found the other day. they have these really nice silver rings for cheap.”

“ah,” you move your hand to his forehead, brushing his bangs aside to plant a quick kiss on his forehead. he can feel your smile against his skin—warm and teasing. “you’re weird. but, fine. promise rings it is, then.”

he relaxes, finally letting a tiny smile tilt the corners of his lips. “sounds like a plan.”

“but, i’m paying for yours.” you tag on.

“huh?”

“i said what i said.”

[theweasleysredhair]

I Wanna Be Yours [G.W.]

Character: George Weasley

Word Count: 6025

Requested?: Yes/No

Summary: Love is complicated. Especially when the boy you love likes someone else. Or does he? [Based on the film Some Kind of Wonderful].

WARNING: brief mentions of alcohol and drinking

Tags: @gracemayhateyou @criminalyetminimal @firewhisky-kisses @obsessedwithrandomthings @angelinathebook @iprobablyshipit91 @potterverseimagine @slytherineheir @kpopgirlbtssvt @rexorangecouny @mytreec @hemmoporro @thisismysketchbook @acciotwinz @shadowsinger11 @aaannabbanana @lestersglitterglue @anyasthoughts @lxncelot @harrypotter289 @starlightweasley @slytherinsunrise @valwritesx @hufflrpuffforfred @cappsikle @kiwi-sloan @potter-redheads @pigwidgexn @twinkyjohnson @tinylumpiaa @locke-writes @user12345321 @wand3ringr0s3 @ickle-ronniekins @sehunasbitch @cryingforcrystalpepsi @kashishwrites @girl-next-door-writes @susceptible-but-siriusexual @crissdanvers @whizbangs-78 @heart-of-tempered-steel @oh-for-merlins-sake @heavenlymidnight @aylinw3asley @andineversawyoucoming | message or send an ask to be added/removed!

Disclaimer: Gif isn't mine, credit to whoever made it

A/n: i am again naming my fics after arctic monkeys’ songs - fun fact this one is named after my favourite one of theirs, i’m considering having it for my wedding song bc it cute af

also yes i watched some kind of wonderful whilst writing this and cried. it’s not even a sad fic, i’m just emotional smh

~*~

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST MY WORK! REBLOGS ARE ABSOLUTELY FINE! <3

+ + + + +

“Y/n! Wait up!”

You span round on your heels, wiping away a stray tear that had fallen, “I said I’m fine, Fred! Okay? I’m fine. Absolutely fabulous, in fact.”

Fred stopped in front of you, a shimmer of pity in his brown eyes that made you feel even worse than you already did, “I just want to make sure you’re okay. I-I’m sorry-“

“I know. I know, Freddie,” you replied, your voice quiet as you pressed your lips together, reaching out to grab his hands in yours, “It’s okay. It is, really. I just... I need to be alone.”

“But I- I just... it’s his loss, just so you know!” He pleaded, shaking his head at you, and swore under his breath at the sight of one of his closest friends in tears over his brother, “Merlin, he shouldn’t have given that to her- I shouldn’t have said anything-“

And that’s where your problem had started. Because a few weeks ago, you were, as you claimed, fine. Well, you had a few essays due and were having trouble finding the textbooks to help you write them, but that was all really.

How you wished you could steal a time turner and go back in time.

And yes, when this all started you knew that George had his heart taken by someone else. It’s not his fault, not really, that his whole plan, scheme, escapade turned into something that would completely crush your heart.

Affairs of the heart. That’s where this started. Because before a few days ago, you were unaware of your own feelings. Before a few days ago, you were unaware of any feelings towards him at all.

But that fateful moment - the one where you were sat with George in front of the fireplace, a half-drank bottle of firewhisky sitting between you, laughing and joking - was the one that changed everything.

You hadn’t even realised yourself, until Fred pointed it out to you the morning after, when he’d found you curled up by George’s side, empty firewhisky bottle laying on the floor in front of the couch, George’s arm around your waist, your face buried into his chest.

In Fred’s defence, he thought you knew. He thought you’d be aware of your own feelings.

How was he supposed to know that you didn’t know you were in love with his twin?

_________~*~_________

“This is the year I reckon,” George announced to you as he collapsed onto the sofa beside you, throwing his legs over your thighs as he rested his back against the arm of the couch, his arms resting behind his neck, “She’s finally single, first time since second year. Now’s my chance!”

You popped a Bertie’s Every Flavour Bean into your mouth and closed the book you weren’t really paying attention to, before dropping it on the table in front of the couch, “And how long have you liked her again?”

George blinked at the way you raised an eyebrow at him and sat up a little, “Since I found out she was single again.” At your pointed look, he shot you a grin, “Nah, since before the summer. Point is, I reckon I could really like this girl.”

“Poor love, having you snivelling around her all the time. I wonder how she’ll cope,” you grinned back, throwing one of the jelly beans at his head.

“Well you seem to cope just fine,” he retorted, batting another jelly bean away from his head.

“That’s just because I’m desensitised to you by now.”

“Is that so?” George asked with a raised eyebrow, a grin etched onto his face as he sat up properly, leaning a little closer to you. You turned your head to face him, meeting his stare as you nodded, “Course, how else would I have put up with you so long?”

He leant further forward and pressed a quick kiss to your forehead, “Willingly, because you love me, stupid.”

You nudged him, making him laugh as he went back to lying down comfortably, “Yeah, yeah.”

You watched a few first years clamber through the portrait hole, laughing to each other as they made their way through the common room, an absent-minded smile gracing your lips as you recalled being the same in your first year with your friends.

“How do you reckon I should ask her out?” George’s voice brought you away from your reminiscing as you looked over at him, “She deserves something amazing, something no other guy will have thought of for her.”

You rolled your eyes, knowing this would be the topic of conversation for the rest of the evening, but nevertheless gestured for him to continue on. “I wanna go all out if she’s gonna turn out to be everything I’ve ever wanted in a girl,” George finished, a dreamy, faraway look crossing his features.

Reaching into the box of jelly beans, you grabbed a handful and threw them at him, ignoring his indignant “hey!” as you replied pointedly, “Don’t go mistaking paradise for a pair of long legs.”

Because truthfully, that was why a lot of guys were interested in Kiara. She was smart - being a Ravenclaw and all - surprisingly funny, and, as far as you knew, was really kind too. Not that this mattered to many of the boys in your year (and the years above and below), apparently, because she was also beautiful, with long, glossy brown hair, perfect doll-like features and, yes, long, lean legs.

“That’s not why I like her,” George insisted, grabbing one of the jelly beans that had fallen onto his lap and throwing it back at you, laughing as it hit you on the forehead. You playfully glared at him, rubbing your forehead in mock-hurt.

“Sure it’s not, stupid,” you replied, using his minor insult from before. “Ohhh, I’m the stupid one now, am I?” He scoffed, though the smile on his face told you he wasn’t offended in the slightest, “Now you’re in for it.”

He moved his legs off you and poked your sides, knowing you were ticklish, making you laugh out and push him away, “George, stop!”

“Take it back then, love. Say I’m the smartest wizard you know,” he grinned, continuing his minor tickling assault, making you move away from him so abruptly that you fell off the couch and onto the carpeted floor, bringing him down on top of you.

“Ouch- never! You are stupid, stupid!” You laughed, laying on the floor as you tried to catch your breath, George’s hands either side of your head, holding his weight up above you.

Both of your laughter faded a little and you found yourself staring into his brown eyes, his face barely centimetres from your own. You could have almost sworn that he started moving closer - though maybe it was your imagination - before he rolled away and lay beside you on the floor, his hand brushing yours.

“You’ll help me right?” He asked after a moment. You turned your head to look at him, taking in his side profile as he stared up at the ceiling.

“I’ll help you what?”

“Get a date with her,” he said as if it were obvious, turning his head to meet your gaze. You shot him a smile, “You’re George Weasley. You could get a date with anyone you wanted.”

“Just not you, right?” He turned onto his side, resting on his elbow as he looked down at you. You shook your head with a laugh, “Yeah well, I don’t count. I’m not just anyone.”

The smile he gave you made your heart beat a little faster, “You’re right about that.”

***

“All I’m saying is, is it such a bad idea if you just, I don’t know, asked her out simply? By using words? I really don’t think you need to wax poetic, or write her a bloody song to ask her out,” you shook your head in despair at the nerve-wracked boy sat across from you in the Great Hall.

“I can’t just ask her out,” George replied in a horrified voice, “What if she thinks I’ve not put enough effort into it and rejects me?”

“Trust me, Georgie, if she’s going to reject you, it won’t be because of the way you asked her out, I can guarantee that. It’ll be because you’re annoying, or because you smell, or, and I can’t stress this enough, because of your below-average skills in potions,” you laughed at his unimpressed look, taking the opportunity to grab a slice of toast off his plate.

“You’re supposed to be my best friend, you know,” he grumbled, waving his fork at you. “Yes,” you replied, “And as your best friend, I say to just ask her out. Look, joking aside, you’re a great guy, George. She’d be lucky to have you.”

He nodded, smiling gratefully at you as he reached forward and grabbed your hand to give it a squeeze, “Okay, I’ll trust you on this one. I’ll just... ask her out. How difficult could it be?”

Turns out, extremely difficult. You felt second hand embarrassment as you watched George head over to the Ravenclaw table, to where Kiara was sitting, wincing as he nearly dropped a goblet of pumpkin juice over her.

“Who’re you watching?” A voice said from beside you, making you jump. Fred laughed as you rolled your eyes at him, before replying, “For your information, I’m watching your brother ask Kiara on a date.”

“Wait, he’s asking another girl on a date?” Fred frowned, his eyes darting from George, who was currently speaking to Kiara, his cheeks reddening as she touched his shoulder and laughed, to your confused expression as you looked up at the older twin. “Yes?” You replied, bemused, “Why?”

“Does it not... bother you?” He asked gently. You laughed, “Why would it?”

And as you watched Kiara throw her arms around George’s neck, his hands coming to hold her waist, you swallowed thickly, before shaking your head at the odd feeling in the pit of your stomach.

Why would it bother you?

You forced a smile onto your face as George made his way back to his original seat, a smug grin adorning his features. “Well?” You asked, rather redundantly as you had seen the whole thing yourself.

“She said yes,” he replied excitedly, picking up his fork and popping some bacon into his mouth. “I told you!” You grinned at him, though you pushed your own plate away, no longer hungry.

“Attaboy, Georgie!” Fred congratulated his twin, “When’s the date?”

“This Saturday, at The Three Broomsticks,” the younger twin replied. You zoned out of the chatter on the table about this newest revelation, feeling your heart plummet at George’s words, though you couldn’t place your finger on why.

George was your best friend, you should be happy for him... right?

***

Saturday arrived quicker than you wanted, after a week of tedious lessons, and a bombardment of questions over what George should do on his date.

You watched him pull out two different jumpers, holding each one up at a time and looking at you expectedly. Tilting your head to the side, you pointed to the red one, “Was always my favourite one.”

“Red it is,” he nodded, throwing the other jumper onto his bed as he held the red jumper out to you for you to hold. Without warning, he pulled the t shirt he was currently wearing off, leaving his toned torso on show as he dropped said t shirt onto the floor and held his hand out for the jumper.

You handed it to him, gulping a little as you forced yourself not to stare at his abs. It was no secret the George was good looking - you’d always known it - but knowing and seeing were two different things. Being a Beater had done tremendous things to his body, you noted.

“Do you reckon I should bring her flowers?” George asked you, looking at you through the reflection of his mirror as he messed his hair up a little.

“Couldn’t hurt,” you shrugged, sending him a half-hearted smile as you grabbed your wand, muttering ‘orchideous’ and handing him the bouquet that was produced.

He thanked you, before taking a deep breath, “Well, what do you reckon?”

The smile that spread across your face this time was genuine, a soft look in your eye as you replied, “You look great, Georgie. Now go get her!”

He shot you one last grin, pressing a kiss to your forehead, before heading out of his dorm, leaving you alone. You picked up the t shirt he’d dropped, folding it and placing it at the end of his bed, before grabbing the jumper he’d discarded.

You took a breath before deciding to put the jumper on, relishing in the smell of George’s aftershave as you pulled it over your head, before rolling up the sleeves and heading out of the dorm.

***

“How many dates has it been now, three? Four?” You asked, wrapping your coat further around yourself as you trudged through the thick snow of Hogsmeade, passing by a couple of cute shops.

“The Yule Ball will be the fifth.”

You froze at the mention of the Ball. Somehow you’d assumed you’d be going with George - you didn’t even think about the fact that he’d have a girlfriend he could take, “Oh! So you um, asked Kiara to the Ball then?”

“Last night,” George bit his lip as he smiled, “Can’t wait!”

Your stomach clenched and mind raced, eyebrows furrowing as you realised you now had just under a week and half to find a date to the Ball - if anyone was still available, that was. You thought about every single eligible boy you knew of, wondering if you had the courage to even ask any of them, before you were pulled from your thoughts by George’s voice.

“I wanna buy her something for Christmas, what do you reckon?” George asked, picking at a strand coming off his woollen hat before placing it back onto his head.

“I don’t really know the girl,” you said truthfully, forcing yourself to stop thinking about George and Kiara dancing and him holding her all night, “I assume you’d have better judgment.”

He nodded over to a small shop on your left, one that you’d passed by many times but never had the chance to look in.

“The jewellery shop?” You asked, raising your eyebrows at him. He grabbed your hand and pulled you over to the door, “Let’s just have a look, yeah?”

The bell chimed as you stepped inside and you instantly became enamoured with the little shop, rows of glass cases showing off sparkly pieces of jewellery and adornments. Most, you noticed quickly, were much too expensive for you - and by default, much too expensive for George, too.

“Are you sure about something from in here?” You asked, staring down at a ring adorned with sapphires, “These are pretty pricey.”

“They might be, but she deserves it. Besides, gotta prove I’m better than all the guys that want to date her, right?” George replied from across the shop.

“Georgie,” you looked over at him with a pointed look, “I can promise you are better than all the other guys.”

“No harm in making sure.”

You gave up arguing, knowing he wouldn’t listen anyway, your eyes taking in the beautiful products, before your focus was taken by a rather stunning necklace. Stepping over to it for a closer look, you breathed out in shock at the price, but nevertheless knew you were in love with the chain, a little pendant surrounded by crystals displayed at the centre.

“What’ve you seen?” George spoke, suddenly standing behind you and leaning over your shoulder.

You pointed at the necklace, “Someday, I’m gonna buy that one.”

George glanced down at the look on your face and grinned to himself, “Someday, I’ll buy that one for you.” You turned to look at him, shaking your head in amusement, “You need to choose something for your girlfriend before you start promising me presents.”

“What’s the fun in that?” George laughed as you both left the shop.

You sat beside George on the couch later that night, resting your head on his shoulder as you shared a bottle of firewhisky between you.

“It was not!” You screeched, your laugh echoing through the empty common room as you nudged the ginger boy, making him laugh along with you. “It absolutely was,” he insisted, grinning before taking a sip of the firewhisky, taking in the sight of you looking so happy, and realising your laugh was one of his favourite sounds, “You were the one who wanted to sneak food from the kitchens, so it was your fault we got caught!”

You shook your head, “It was you tripping into that metal armour. All that noise when the bloody head fell off.”

“You pushed me, stupid!” George scolded indignantly, crossing his arms over his chest and pouting like a child.

“I shoved you,” you corrected, laughing as George playfully nudged you, causing you to nudge him back, and soon you were play fighting on the couch.

He, once again, was above you, almost pinning you to the couch as he looked down at you, and it was only then that you realised just how inebriated you both were, the empty firewhisky bottle having fallen onto the floor.

George’s tongue darted out to lick his bottom lip, “You know I love you, right?”

You smiled softly up at him, arms around his neck as you nodded, somehow feeling like those words had more weight to them than usual. Leaning up to kiss his cheek, you replied, “Of course, Georgie.”

Morning arrived quickly, much to your dismay, and you were woken abruptly by the sound of heavy footsteps stomping down the stairs. You couldn’t bring yourself to move to see who it was, too comfortable with your head resting on George’s chest, his arm securely around your waist, but luckily for you, said culprit of the noise came right by your line of sight, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

“Well what do we have here?” Fred cooed, rocking back and forth as he looked at you curled up in his twin’s arms. “Me and George falling asleep after drinking maybe a tad too much?” You replied as if it were obvious.

“You look awfully cosy,” he grinned, “But then, I suppose I would too if I was cuddling someone I was in love with.”

You felt like your heart stopped and you nearly choked on air, “Wait wait wait, someone I what?!”

“‘Someone I was in love with’?” Fred repeated slowly, narrowing his eyes at you, “You do know... right?”

At your blank expression, Fred raised an eyebrow, “You do know you’re in love with George... right?”

“I’m not in love with-“ You paused as you thought back over the years of your friendship. You’d never really thought about it before - never really had to. But you treated George differently to any other friend you had. No one could make you laugh like he could, or make you feel as protected and safe as he did. And no one ever made you feel like you were flying, like he did.

“Oh Godric... I’m in love with George!” You whisper-shouted, a hand coming to cover your mouth as the realisation dawned on you.

Fred nodded, “I didn’t know that you didn’t know.”

“That’s why you asked me if it bothered me when he asked out Kiara, isn’t it?” You suddenly realised, gulping harshly.

Fred nodded again, though a tad more hesitantly than before, “Hey, but listen- I really think he feels the same, if it makes you feel any better! He just doesn’t know it either.”

You moved out of George’s grasp and stood up, pressing your lips together as you looked at Fred, “He’s got a girlfriend, who he’s taking to the Yule Ball and who he adores and they’re probably gonna get married and have kids and I’m going to be alone forever!”

“Hey, that’s not- that won’t happen,” Fred replied, his gaze softening as he saw a tear fall down your cheek. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest and stroking your back comfortingly.

“He loves you, I know it. And he knows it too. He just doesn’t know that he knows it.”

***

Ever since your realisation in the early morning, you’d tried your best to act normal around George. It wasn’t easy, and you felt that maybe you were being a little more distant than usual, however you quickly pushed that thought aside as you noticed George being equally - if not more - distant, sitting at the end of the table beside Fred, Kiara on his other side as he whispered things in her ear, making her laugh.

You felt a pang of hurt, one that got worse the longer you stared at them, watching as they kissed, as George stared at her lovingly, as he pushed her long, brown, stupidly perfect hair behind her ear and making her blush.

Sitting on the opposite side of the table, you made yourself look away, instead immersing yourself in the conversation Ron and Harry were having about the Yule Ball.

“This is mad, at this rate we’ll be the only ones in our year without dates!” Ron hissed at Harry as you were all sat in the Great Hall, supposedly studying. You hid a laugh as Snape walked past and pushed his head.

“Well, us and Neville,” he continued with a small laugh. Harry leant over to him, “Yeah but then again, he can take himself.”

“It might interest you to know that Neville has already got someone,” Hermione interrupted their laughing with a frown.

Ron sighed, catching your gaze as you laughed at him - which made him sigh again, “Now I’m really depressed.”

You observed from the other side of the table as Fred threw a piece of parchment over to his younger brother, winking at you when he noticed you watching, as Ron frowned at the words on the page.

Ron handed the parchment back, glancing around to avoid Snape and whispered, “Who are you going with then?”

Fred grabbed the parchment and crumpled it up into a ball, before throwing it at you, the paper bouncing off your shoulder. You looked down at the paper, before meeting Fred’s gaze with a raised eyebrow.

He grinned at you, before miming the Ball, nodding over at you. You rolled your eyes, glancing round for Snape before throwing the parchment back at him, hitting him square in the face and causing half the table to hid their faces as they laughed.

“Well?” He asked, seemingly unfazed by the parchment that was now resting at his feet.

“Yeah, go on then, I suppose,” you whispered, shaking your head at him as he winked at Ron. When all the attention went back to school work, you caught Fred’s gaze again and smiled thankfully.

He saluted playfully, making you laugh, neither one of you noticing George’s frown and clenched fists beside him.

***

You hadn’t seen much of George since Fred had asked you to the Ball, him being too busy spending practically all of his time with Kiara.

It hurt, you had to admit, that he was constantly choosing her over you. Though you assumed it was only natural, what with Kiara being his first proper girlfriend.

Didn’t mean it hurt any less. And the fact you were so used to having George to yourself didn’t help - sometimes turning to ask him something, and then realising he’s not there.

He’d moved seats in class to sit by Kiara, meaning in some classes you were sat with whoever happened to be her previous partner, which therefore meant you were forced to watch as the boy you loved flirted with another girl, his hands constantly on her waist, sneaking kisses when the professor wasn’t looking, and, more often than not, simply not even acknowledging your existence, not even saying a simple ‘hello’.

In other classes you were sat by Fred, who, by all accounts, was actually a pretty good partner, being able to make you laugh and distract you from the show that tore your heart every time you saw it.

In fact, Fred had pretty much mastered exactly how to make you laugh until you cried, his aim in most lessons now, as he hated how sad you were because of his twin.

You were both giggling in the back of the classroom at something he’d said when McGonagall had pointed it out, asking you both to “Please quieten down.”

You bit your lip to muffle your laughing as Fred looked down at you, just happy he could make his friend smile when he knew how much you were hurting.

Much to the dislike of a certain redhead towards the front of the room, who immediately frowned every time he heard your laugh, knowing he wasn’t the one causing it, but his older twin.

His twin who was taking you to the Yule Ball.

George clenched his jaw as he heard you whispering something to Fred, barely being able to focus on anything else.

He knew you and Fred were friends, but since when were you both that close?

***

By the time the Yule Ball arrived, you and George were barely speaking at all. You’d cried about it more times than you’d like to admit, but you had decided that tonight, at the Ball, you would make it a night to remember, not wanting to mope and ruin Fred’s night since he had asked you pretty much as a favour - despite the amount of times he’d insisted he wanted to ask you, you knew he fancied Angelina Johnson, and had things played out differently, you were sure she’d have been the one he’d thrown the parchment at in the hall that day, not you.

Either way, when you’d made your way down the steps to the Great Hall, your dress swirling around you, hair and makeup perfect, Fred made a huge deal of wolf-whistling and complimenting you.

“Well aren’t you bloody gorgeous,” he grinned, taking your hand and bringing it up to his lips to kiss the back of it, “I am one lucky guy.”

“You clean up pretty good too, Weasley,” you grinned, reaching up to straighten out his tie.

George scowled as he watched you with Fred, hating you being in such proximity to his brother, hands clenching and knuckles turning white as he watched Fred kiss the back of your hand. He had to force himself not to run over and shove Fred’s hands away from your waist, as he guided you off to the Hall. He was so distracted by firstly how stunning you looked, and secondly by how forward his brother was being, that he barely even noticed when Kiara had arrived by his side, until she nudged him a little and he forced out a smile.

He complimented the brunette girl, guiding her into the Hall as his hand reached into his pocket, brushing over a box to make sure it was still there.

Fred had been the perfect date all evening. He was a gentlemen - besides the occasional flirty comment - and insisted on staying by your side and dancing, even when you tried to usher him to ask Angelina to dance.

He was just about to give into your insistence with a laugh, when he noticed your expression changed as your attention was taken from him to whatever was going on behind him.

He cursed under his breath as he watched George hold out a small black box to Kiara, who had a huge smile on her face as she took the lid off. She pulled out a necklace, bringing George into a hug immediately, pressing kisses to his face.

Fred stood in front of your view of them, taking your hands in his, “Y/n... I’m sorry. He’s an idiot- he doesn’t know he’s got such a good thing, and wouldn’t know it if you punched him in the face - which, for the record, I think you should do.”

You wiped a stray tear from your eye, forcing yourself not to cry, “He gave her the necklace.”

“I know. I know, but he-“

“No Fred,” you interrupted gently, “He gave her the necklace. That necklace is one I saw when we were in Hogsmeade, and I said I wanted it. He-He even said he’d buy it for me one day! Not that I’d let him but- He bought it for her.”

Fred’s gaze softened, his heart breaking at the sight of your sad face, wrapping his arms around you and swaying a little to the music absent-mindedly.

“I’m sorry,” Fred whispered in your ear. You nodded, leaning against his shoulder, “Not your fault your brother is stupid.”

The song that was playing ended, and Fred grabbed your hand, leading you over to the table where the food and drinks were, pouring you a glass and offering it out to you. You took it gratefully, thanking him before taking a sip.

“Didn’t know you two were that close,” a voice came from behind you. A voice you knew well, one you could pick out anywhere. Fred reached out to squeeze your hand reassuringly, as you placed your glass down, nodding at him before turning around.

“Fred and I have always been good friends. I do have friends, other than you, you know. Which is a good job, considering you’ve been so distant with me,” you replied, focusing on keeping your voice level, rather than on the fact that he’d just given your necklace to his girlfriend.

George felt himself get angry as he noticed yours and Fred’s intertwined hands, swallowing harshly and shoving his hands into his trouser pockets.

“You know I’ve been trying to impress Kiara, being in a relationship takes up time. Not that you’d know, but I thought you’d understand. Didn’t think you’d replace me that quickly,” George retaliated in the midst of his anger, only being able to focus on you and Fred, and how close you were.

“Replaced you?” You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest, “You barely even say hello to me! So yes, I turned to a friend so I wasn’t alone. You’re the one who replaced me! And you gave her the necklace, George. The necklace you knew I wanted. You gave it to her.”

Not waiting for a response, you shot an apologetic glance towards Fred before rushing out of the Hall, suddenly needing some fresh air.

“Look what you did now!” Fred almost growled, before storming out after you, in an attempt to find you.

George took a shaky breath, cursing as he watched the two most important people to him leave.

“George?” A soft voice spoke from beside him.

“Kiara?”

The brunette girl smiled, pressing her lips together as she looked at the ginger, “I um... I think we should break up.”

George frowned, though he was surprised to find he didn’t feel too badly about what she’d said.

The girl held out a black box and placed it into George’s hands, “This should be hers. It’s more her style than mine, I think you know that too.”

The redhead hesitated, unsure of what to say in this situation, “Look, Kiara, I’m sorry-“

“She likes you,” Kiara interrupted him, grinning despite the situation.

“She doesn’t-“

“She does. And you like her. Now go find her.”

With one last hug, and another muttered apology, he nodded determinedly at her, and ran off in the direction of his brother and, he realised now, the girl he truly loved.

***

“Y/n! Wait up!”

You span round on your heels, wiping away a stray tear that had fallen, “I said I’m fine, Fred! Okay? I’m fine. Absolutely fabulous, in fact.”

Fred stopped in front of you, a shimmer of pity in his brown eyes that made you feel even worse than you already did, “I just want to make sure you’re okay. I-I’m sorry-“

“I know. I know, Freddie,” you replied, your voice quiet as you pressed your lips together, reaching out to grab his hands in yours, “It’s okay. It is, really. I just... I need to be alone.”

“But I- I just... it’s his loss, just so you know!” He pleaded, shaking his head at you, and swore under his breath at the sight of one of his closest friends in tears over his brother, “Merlin, he shouldn’t have given that to her- I shouldn’t have said anything-“

“It’s okay, I promise. It was always bound to happen right? I was always destined to fall for him, whilst he fell for her. Even if you hadn’t said anything, I would’ve realised. I’m- I’m so stupid, aren’t I? Falling for my best friend,” you let out a broken sob.

“You’re not stupid.”

Your breath hitched in your throat and you swallowed back another sob as you turned around slowly, your eyes catching George’s gaze.

He stood, hair messy as if he’d raked his hands through it a few too many times, tie askew and shirt almost untucked in his haste to run and find you. He felt his heart clench, knowing he was the one to make you feel like this, and stepped forward reaching a hand out towards you as you blinked back tears, allowing him to bring you into his arms as you finally let the tears fall.

You knew you shouldn’t, that you should leave to your dorm, but being in George’s arms had always made you feel safe, made you feel protected.

More tears fell as he whispered sweet nothings into your ear, muttering over and over again how sorry he was. How he was a fool, a git, a complete idiot.

You finally calmed down a little, looking around the empty hallway, not being sure exactly when Fred had disappeared but thankful for the privacy.

You wiped away the last of your tears, cursing mentally as you realise your makeup would be a mess - if the state of George’s shirt was anything to go by.

“Kiara told me you like- I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” he breathed out, a hand cupping your cheek as you blinked up at him.

“Yeah well, you’re stupid. I always knew you were stupid,” you replied with a sad laugh.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked with a frown, his hands moving to hold your waist.

“You never asked. And then you-you got a girlfriend. What was I supposed to do?” You asked quietly.

“I’m in love with you,” George said suddenly, earnestly, genuinely as he held you against him.

“Not Kiara?”

He shook his head quickly, “She knew I liked you before I knew I liked you. Maybe I am stupid.”

“Maybe you are,” you let out a watery laugh, looking away from his gaze.

George suddenly reached into his pocket and brought out a familiar box, “This is yours. I don’t know what I was thinking, giving it to her. It’s yours - it’s always been yours.”

He opened the box, taking out the necklace you loved so much, and offering you a sheepish smile, “It’s not a good enough apology, I know. But I’m hoping it’s a start.”

He gently turned you around, placing the necklace around your neck, you shivering at the feel of his fingers brushing against your skin, before turning you back around to face him, this time much closer than before, his forehead resting against yours.

“So, and correct me if I’m wrong,” he spoke as he leant forward a little more, his lips almost touching yours, “Does this mean that I like you and you like me and we both don’t think of each other as friends?”

You nodded a little, offering him a soft smile, “I don’t want to be friends, George,” you whispered just as his lips brushed your own, “I wanna be yours.”

[quokkacore]

with great power I [lee jeno]

summary: there are two things jeno loves most about his life. one being spiderman, the other being you, his best friend. there’s just one issue: after your father’s death, you decide you hate both spiderman and yourself.

pairing: lee jeno x reader

genre: superhero au, high school au, coming of age, best friends to strangers(ish) to lovers, fluff, ANGST, minor crack

warnings (for this chapter): language, violence, gun violence, the mafia, parental death, police presence, sexual references, bullying (ily san im sorry), the dreamies being dicks to each other, police corruption, towards the end jeno experiences something similar to sensory overload, americanized names, pop culture references, VERY jeno centric

song rec: we go up - nct dream // any song - zico // 21 questions - waterparks // talk (remix feat. megan thee stallion & yo gotti) - khalid // sunrise - ateez // i really like you - carly rae jepsen // dare - gorillaz // stray kids - the tortoise and the hare

word count: 10.5k

a/n: this is so late...... i blame attack on titan. but hey!! better late than never :] a huge thanks to @doderyscoffee​ for beta reading <3

main masterlist // story masterlist

chapter one: jeno and the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad week

Jeno despised Tuesdays. He was pretty sure that Tuesdays despised Jeno as well because all of his worst days just so happen to be Tuesdays. He was 96% sure that, if there was a god, his day off was on Tuesdays, or that the planets aligned in such a manner on Tuesdays that it caused universal despair and misery. If he was to take Donghyuck's word for it, his chakra attracted negative energy the most on Tuesdays.

When Jeno was 5, his goldfish Pippin had died on a Tuesday. When he had his ass handed to him on the playground by San Choi in the third grade, it was a Tuesday. And in the seventh grade, he'd failed his Spanish test, missed his bus and walked home in the rain only to find out that his Aunt Sunny was at work, he'd left his keys in his locker and that had to wait an hour before she got home to unlock it for him, all on a Tuesday. 

And wouldn't you know it, here he was, late for the first day of senior year, which was, of all days, a godforsaken Tuesday.

In his eternal wisdom, he'd stayed up gaming with Renjun until two in the morning, and because of it, slept through his three alarms, one set at six-thirty, the other at 6:45, the last one at 7:00. 

He'd woken up at 7:17, to the sound of his elderly neighbor's pet chihuahua barking at a pigeon, checked the time, immediately panicked, sped into the shower, gotten dressed in a haste, grabbed a few granola bars from the pantry, and ran out the door while trying to jam his backpack closed, and managed to catch the train at 7:40, which took about twenty minutes to get to his stop, plus a ten-minute walk to school, and class started at 8:10. Not to mention he’d have to stop by the office and pick up his schedule. At best, he’d be five minutes late to his first class. But tardies were tardies, regardless, and the last thing he needed was to lose his perfect attendance streak. 

He fished out his phone while standing on the train, waiting for his stop, scrolling through Instagram, and liking random pictures. A ping! from his phone caught his attention, then two, then a third. He smiled softly when your name popped up on his screen.

[7:48 AM]

y/n: pssst

y/n: shithead

y/n: where r u ????

[7:49 AM] 

y/n: i can sEE u online on ig u know

jeno: …… i'm on the train

jeno: woke up late

y/n: YOURE GONNA BE LATR

y/n: LATE*

y/n: ON THE FIRST DAY OF SENIOR YEAR

[7:50]

jeno: probably, yeah

jeno: it's the school district's fault, why would they make the first day of school on a fkn TUESDAY 

y/n: ohhh yeahh its terrible tuesday

y/n: [sent an attachment!]

[7:51 AM]

jeno: SHUT UP

jeno: you're not funny >:(

jeno: how dare you laugh at my misfortune

y/n: au contraire im hilarious

jeno: meanie :(

jeno: im gonna be late i hate it here

jeno: it'll end up on my permanent record and i'm not gonna get into college and then i'm gonna die,,,

[7:52 AM] 

y/n: sometimes ur worse than hyuck i swear 

y/n: FIRST OF ALL permanent records dont even exist !!!!!! its propaganda duh

y/n: also ur literally never late 

y/n: im sure o n e tardy wont do anything chill

y/n: dont be stupid youll be fine

Don’t be stupid. Too little, too late, he thought, already having got off the train at a previous stop. Now, he was looking for an unoccupied street or alleyway, which, for once, was easy, taking a deep breath before he did the exact opposite of what you’d told him not to do. Don’t be stupid. 

The buildings are low, he thought to himself, it’ll be easier to see me. 

Don’t be stupid.

Too late!

Thwip!

Jeno didn’t hesitate to use the web fluid to pull himself up onto the wall, climbing in a haste, before running and jumping onto the next building. He quickly built up a quick pace, using the web fluid occasionally to swing onto a building slightly out of jumping range. 

Signs in English, Chinese, Korean, and Spanish flew past him as he seemingly flew over the Queens traffic, leaving Flushing behind and crossing quickly into College Point quicker than he would if he took the train. He glanced to his left and caught a view of the bay, and far across it, the LaGuardia airport watchtower.

Jeno had lived in New York City his entire life. He knew Queens like the back of his hand, knew every dingy alleyway, every sketchy street, which restaurants to avoid if you didn’t want to get food poisoning, which convenience store aunties were the nicest and didn’t pinch his cheeks too hard. It was his home, and most likely would be for the rest of his life. 

But seeing it like this, flying past him below as he glided with ease from building to building would never cease to be a sight to him. It was like watching from the perspective of an outsider, seeing people in their cars, walking along the street gave him a brand new perspective. A Jeno’s eye view, he called it, since he was pretty sure he was the only one in New York City.

Another noise from his phone brought him back to reality. He shook his head, stopping briefly to catch his breath and fish out his phone briefly. 

[7:57 AM] 

y/n: let me know when u get here !!!

No time to respond, he put away the phone and continued his trek to school. He had less than ten minutes to get there. But he knew he was already at least five minutes away, much quicker than he would be if he had decided to stick to the train. He smiled a bit to himself, feeling ever so slightly smug.

The hustle and bustle of the city definitely proved challenging to find a place to land without many eyes, but he figured it out eventually, landing behind a dumpster in an alleyway behind a restaurant that he knew was about three or four blocks from the school. He figured it would be a lot better to take it on foot from here. The notebooks he was carrying in his backpack bounced up and down with every step he took. 

After what seemed like forever, the gates to the school appeared in his view, and Jeno felt a joy in his heaving chest, something he would have never thought would happen upon seeing the absolute hellhole that was Samuel Morse High School. 

[8:06 AM]

jeno: just did >:D

Picking up his schedule was both quick and insanely long. He couldn’t stop himself from tapping his left foot while the secretary found his schedule and handed it to him. “Kibum, please hurry,” He muttered, and Kibum raised an eyebrow at him, but his gaze was teasing. “That’s Mr. Kim to you, in school at least.” 

He handed Jeno his schedule a few seconds later. “Tell your Aunt to come pick up her casserole dish, by the way. She left it at my house after my last viewing party.”

“The Bachelor?”

“Please. We’re too classy for that. Drag Race.”

“Ah. I see.”

“Jeno,” Kibum said, staring up at him from his desk, his gaze now much more serious, “Get to class. Happy first day of senior year.”

“Thanks, Mr. Kim.”

He managed to make it to chemistry class at 8:09 with seconds to spare. His eyes quickly scanned the room upon entering, hoping his friends were in the class with him. He caught a few familiar faces, most of which, like San Choi's, he wished to avoid. No one paid him any mind. Everyone was still speaking to the people next to them, no doubt exchanging stories of summer vacation. 

  A hand shot up towards the back, waving at him. A smile stretched across his face as he registered your face, feet not hesitating to carry him towards the empty seat next to you. His heart skipped a beat at seeing your smile, and he tried his best to ignore it.

“Hey,” You greeted, “That was fast. I thought you said you were gonna be late.”

Jeno shrugged, eyes landing on the dark shade of the lab table. “The train was a lot faster than I expected, apparently.”

You wrinkled your nose. “Why do you smell so bad?”

“I, uh… ran a little.” 

You grimaced, and Jeno tried to casually sniff at his slightly sweaty clothes. It’s not that bad. “I still don’t understand why you won’t let me drive you to school. You’re literally next door.”

“I don’t know,” He answered, rolling his eyes, “Maybe it’s because when it comes to that truck, you are absolutely insane. You won’t even let me drink water in that thing.”

The truck in question, a faded red 1998 Chevrolet S-10, had been your gift to yourself for your 17th birthday. You’d spent two summers saving up to buy yourself a truck, and that was what you were able to get for what you had. To say it was a huge piece of junk on wheels was an understatement. 

The thing smelled like mothballs no matter how many air fresheners you bought it, the engine sounded like an old man having a coughing fit, and there was a very suspicious stain in the backseat that wouldn’t go away no matter how many times you scrubbed it. But for some reason, you treated it like it was your own baby. The amount of times you’d yelled at Jaemin for trying to put his feet on the dashboard was too high to count.

You mirrored his movement, eyes rolling as you sighed. “At least let me drive you home after school today. Maybe you can stay and we can finally watch Blade Runner.”

You’d been trying to get him to watch the film for almost a month now, begging and pleading because you insisted that he’d love it. He offered an awkward stare, before opening his backpack and pulling out a notebook. “Can’t,” He mumbled, “I’m headed into Manhattan. I have my internship afterwards.”

“Oh, yeah,” You said nonchalantly, eyebrows shooting up as you remembered, “Park Industries.” 

He was about to reply when Mrs. Baker, the chemistry teacher, finally entered. She’d been working at SMHS for 30 years and had never, apparently, been nice, if his Aunt Sunny’s stories were anything to go by. However, she had apparently always spoken as if she smoked two packs a day. She was rambling about the importance of making the most of senior year academically, adult responsibilities, college, and whatnot. You and Jeno exchanged glances often throughout the monologue, hoping it would end soon. 

“Enough of that,” She said after what seemed like an eternity, “Everyone quiet down, I’m going to call roll.”

Names were quickly called, and Jeno was ready to pull out a pencil and start working with you until Mrs Baker demanded a switch in seats, beginning to call on random names in an effort to deter everyone from speaking. 

"Please not with Choi, please not with Choi," Jeno muttered under his breath, glancing warily at San, who was staring ahead, looking bored. 

San had had it out for Jeno ever since day one, in first grade. For some reason, everything Jeno did seemed to annoy the other boy. He wasn't funny enough, or too nerdy, or too quiet. Jeno was always too much or too little for him. 

You touched his forearm, and he looked towards you. 

“You’ll be fine,” You said softly, trying not to alert the teacher, “You’re not gonna get paired up with him, and you can take it to the office if you need to.” “Yeah, because I’m sure Coach Peralta would be thrilled if someone tried to get his precious midfielder in trouble.”

“Choi, San,” Mrs Baker’s voice rang throughout the room, and Jeno braced himself for the worst, eyebrows furrowing with worry. 

“You’ll be sitting with… L/N, Y/N.” 

Jeno’s shoulders slumped, but your face remained impassive. You picked up your stuff, and pouted silently at Jeno in apology, before making your way to the front. 

“Lee, Jeno,” Mrs Baker called a few minutes later, “You’ll be sitting with Jang, Yeeun.”

He breathed out a sigh of relief. Yeeun is nice, Jeno thought to himself, I could sit with Yeeun. She wasn’t part of his main friend group, but he had tutored her in math during sophomore year in exchange for her helping him with Spanish, and they’d been pretty friendly ever since. 

“Hey,” Yeeun greeted as Jeno sat down, and Jeno smiled at her. 

“Remember, these will be your assigned lab partners for the rest of the semester. No changes, no exceptions.” Mrs. Baker sat down at her desk, before beginning to talk about something Jeno didn’t really pay attention to.

You exchanged glances with Jeno, and he gave you a look of sympathy as you gestured at San with your eyes. San was talking to you about something—probably bragging about some soccer achievement—but you weren’t paying him much attention. Jeno swallowed something growing in his throat as he looked at how your hair looked today. 

It was nothing relatively new, the same hairstyle you used on most days. But still, there was a bit of a shine to it. He wondered vaguely if you had changed your shampoo, the other day you’d been complaining about how itchy your normal shampoo made your scalp—

“You still haven’t told her about how you feel?” Yeeun asked quietly, and Jeno’s head snapped back to look at her, eyes wide.

“W-what? Me. Like Y/N…” He laughed nervously, trying to keep his voice down. He scratched the back of his head, avoiding Yeeun’s accusatory stare. “You’re hilarious, Yeeun. Tell another one.”

Yeeun shook her head. “You’d better hurry before someone else snatches her up, Jen. She’s not gonna wait around for you forever.”

 “I don’t like her, Yeeun.” 

“Keep telling yourself that.”

“Hey! Jeno Lee!”

“Hey! Jaemin Na! What do you want!” Jeno answered as he sat down, mimicking Jaemin’s tone next to him.

“Well, for starters, a million dollars, and second, a date with Yiren Wang, but I doubt you can help me with either of those, so...”

Jeno glanced at the rest of the table. Along with Jaemin, Mark,  Renjun, Donghyuck, and you were watching the interaction between the pair. “Where are the munchkins?” Jeno asked, noticing Chenle and Jisung’s absence. No one could really call them munchkins anymore. That nickname dated back to middle school, before the two underclassmen had gone through growth spurts.

“Eh, they should be here soon,” Renjun said, chewing on a french fry, “How’s your day been?”

“Pretty good so far, I guess. I got AP Calc with Mr. Washington later, though. That man wants me dead.”

You rolled your eyes. “He doesn’t want you dead. I’m telling you, you and Hyuck have been spending way too much time together. You’re being more dramatic than usual and Hyuck’s being more… weird than usual.”

“And just what is so weird about being enthusiastic about senior year, Y/N?” Donghyuck asked, shaking his head, “It’s our last year in this hellhole, I’m excited that we’re finally getting out of here. And besides—”

“Please don’t bring up the fact that you’re abandoning us next year.” Chenle seemingly appeared out of nowhere, sitting next to Renjun, Jisung following quickly behind him.

“Hi, Sungie,” You said with a smile, and Jisung smiled back. “Hi, Y/N.”

“What were you saying, Hyuck?” Jaemin looked at Donghyuck, who had taken the quick interaction as an opportunity to take a bite of his sandwich. His wide eyes darted to the slim boy, cheeks stuffed with chicken. 

“Oh,” He replied after swallowing, “This is gonna be my year. I’m getting male lead for the winter musical and no one is gonna stop me.”

“Do you even know what musical you guys are doing yet?” Mark asked, “What if it’s like… Shrek?”

Jisung made a face. “There’s a Shrek musical?”

Mark nodded, and Renjun laughed.

“I don’t know about male lead, if it’s Shrek. You should try out for Donkey,” The Chinese boy joked, “With those front teeth, you’re a shoo-in.”

The entire table was silent for a moment, before snorts and chortles started pouring out from everyone except Donghyuck.

“Fuck you, Huang.” 

Renjun flashed the friendliest smile he could muster. “Not if you paid me a million dollars.”

The subject remained on extracurriculars, everyone in your group except for Chenle and Jisung now wary of college applications. Donghyuck had been in theater ever since middle school, Renjun was in the robotics club and the debate team with Jaemin, who was also in the student council. Mark was on the math team with Jeno, and you had founded the film club. 

"You're not gonna believe who asked to sign up for film," You huffed, looking kind of confused. The rest of the table looked at you expectantly, and you pursed your lips, almost as if you were trying not to laugh.

"San Choi."

Renjun scoffed. Jaemin raised his eyebrows before letting out a single, humorless laugh. Jeno made a face, poking his plastic fork at you. 

"What is San Choi doing asking to sign up for film?"

"Fuck if I know. He said he needed one more extracurricular if he wanted to get into some college in Florida and he liked going to the movies, so he wanted to try out film."

Mark rolled his eyes. "I swear there's nothing in that guy's head but hot gas. It blows my mind."

"He's a dick," Chenle grumbled, "I'm still not over how he and Wooyoung taped Jisung to the flagpole last year."

Jisung scowled. "I thought we agreed to never bring that up again."

“Do you think they’ll finally calm the fuck down this year?” Jaemin wondered, looking wistful.

You took a sip of your coke and shook your head. “Doubt it. They’re not the hateful eight for a reason.”

The mood at the table turned tense, until Jaemin frowned at his french fries, before sighing and clapping his hands together dramatically. “I would like to hear,” He mused, “About the nuance that theatre gives the cinematic masterpiece that is Shrek when converted into musical form.”

Donghyuck beamed. “Oh, it’s amazing. You see…”

If it was difficult to get Donghyuck to stop talking in general, it was impossible when it was about theater.

The conversation continued on until the bell rang, and the eight of you had to go your separate ways. Jaemin and Jeno had the same class, so they both walked together down a relatively calm hallway. Jaemin looked both ways, before finally lowering his voice. 

“So, you’re going to see Mr. Park today?”

Jeno nodded, looking down at his shoes. “He said he wanted to give me an assignment. Says there’s something big going on.”

Jaemin’s eyes lit up with curiosity. “Did he say what kind of something?” 

Jeno shook his head, pouting slightly. “I’ll let you know tomorrow.” 

Once school was out, Jeno was getting ready to get onto the subway once again, this time heading towards Midtown. It was only day one and, as Jeno had predicted, Mr. Washington probably was out to get him, because he’d swamped the class with homework.

As he left the school, he spotted you in the parking lot, leaning against your car door, texting someone. He glanced at his phone. He still had plenty of time, he figured. He walked over to you, and when you looked up, you smiled. 

“Hey!” Your voice had that signature tone of enthusiasm to it, and Jeno smiled back immediately. 

“Hello,” He sing-songed. “So, I was thinking… are you free on Friday night?”

You looked somewhere above his head, furrowing your eyebrows before you perked up again and nodded. “Yep! Why?”

“I’m free after nine. Maybe then I could come over to your house? So I can finally get you to stop harassing me about Blade Runner.”

You grinned, pumping your fists enthusiastically. “Hell yes,” You answered, “Do you want me to get like, some frozen pizzas or something?” 

“Pizza sounds good,” He said. “Who are you even waiting for?” 

You made a face that made it seem as if you’d just gotten a whiff of rotten milk. “Well—”

Your response was interrupted when the school doors slammed open, and eight figures poured out, carrying themselves with confidence Jeno both envied and despised. He frowned, trying not to react at their loud whooping and laughing. The Hateful Eight.

“Oh.” Jeno averted his gaze, meeting your eyes again.

“Yeah. If you don’t hear from me later it’s because I jumped out of my truck because I don’t wanna work with—”

“Well, hello, gorgeous!” San’s voice filled the parking lot, and Jeno took a deep breath. Your mouth stretched into a tight-lipped smile at the unwanted ‘compliment’. 

“Hey, San.” Your friendly passive aggressive tone almost made Jeno smile. “I’ve been waiting here for like, fifteen minutes. You could have just given me your number and asked me to send you pictures of my notes, you know.”

He shrugged, turning his body so that his back was turned to Jeno. “Sorry, babe. Coach wanted to talk to us about the upcoming season. When he gets going, it’s hard to get him to stop. And besides, where’s the fun in just asking for pictures when I could come here, talk to you, and take the pictures myself?”

You didn’t respond, but rather pulled out your backpack and began digging through it. When you pulled out your notebook, you handed it to San, who flashed a wink at you. You barely held back a gag. 

“Thanks, Y/N. I’ll just be a minute.” 

He walked over to the hood of your truck, and just as you were about to continue your conversation, two figures slung their arms around both of Jeno’s shoulders, causing him to flinch. 

Out of the fifteen soccer players on the team, San and his best friends—seven of them, to be precise—were the worst. The others were pretty nice. But right now, seeing two of those seven surround your best friend made you uneasy. 

Wooyoung was loud. He was also a temperamental brat. His dad owned three used car dealerships over in Brooklyn, so naturally, he thought he owned the entire world. He wasn’t someone who would get too physical in fights, like San, or Jongho, or Yeosang. But when he was angry, he could easily get you to jump into the stratosphere by yelling at you once. Over the years, he’d made several teaching assistants and substitute teachers cry, only getting let off with a slap on the wrist every time. 

 Yunho was terrifying for completely different reasons. He was friendly, but a little too friendly to the people he wanted to control. He could read people like books and could easily manipulate whoever he wanted. But he wasn’t afraid of getting physical either, especially not when he was built like a goddamn Power Rangers Megazord. 

All in all, they definitely weren't anyone you wanted near you, near your friends. Especially considering how much they had it out for your friends. 

"Hey, buddy," Yunho said, looking down at Jeno with a wide smile. "How was summer vacation?"

Jeno gnawed on the side of his cheek as he considered his answer. "Um, it was okay." He looked at you to catch your eyes darting between San, Yunho and Wooyoung, like you were analyzing the situation. "I kinda stayed in and played video games most of the t—"

"Cool, cool," Yunho answered, carding his free hand through his bleach blond hair. "What about you, Woo?"

"Oh, dude, it was so cool," He bragged, "I went to Brazil for like, a month. I went clubbing with Instagram models and shit, it was wild."

You stared at him as he patted Jeno on the back rather aggressively. "Where did you go? Have you ever even left New York?" 

You knew the answer. Only a few times when the debate team went to compete in different states. Jeno spoke up again. "Well, yeah a few t—"

"Doubt it," Yunho scoffed. He craned his head back. "San, you done yet?"

"Almost!" San answered. Yunho turned to face you, and for some reason his smile seemed genuinely kind. “What about you, Y/N?”

You never understood why it was that the soccer team hated your entire friend group, but seemed to tolerate you. It made no sense.

So you shrugged. “Not a lot, I guess. Did my summer reading. Hung out with my friends.” You flashed a reassuring smile at Jeno. “Right, Jen?”

Immediately, he relaxed a little bit. “Yeah.”

San appeared from behind Yunho, Jeno and Wooyoung. “Thanks, Y/N. I owe you one.”

You waved your hand, wanting them to get rid of them quickly. “Don’t mention it. But next time, just text me for my notes. I have to get to work, so…”

“Oh! My bad,” He answered with fake remorse, before unlocking his phone and handing it over to you. “Here. For next time.”

You stifled a deep sigh, punching in the numbers hesitantly. “Just for homework, got it?”

San took his phone back, holding a hand over his heart and raised his head. “On a gentleman's honor,” He declared, and you bit back a laugh. Jeno looked like he was going to hurl.

“San!” The team captain—Hongjoong—called from a few feet away, “Are you guys done yet or what?”

“Coming!” San yelled back.

“Alright, we’ll let you go,” Wooyoung said, patting Jeno on the back again, a bit too harsh for comfort. “Bye, Y/N! See you around.”

 The three of them stalked off, leaving you and a very frazzled Jeno. “Dicks,” You muttered once they were out of earshot. “You good?”

Jeno shook his head, waving his hand dismissively. “I’ll be fine.”

You tilted your head, frowning. “Jeno—”

“I gotta go,” He said quickly. “I’ll see you later?”

You nodded, offering a lopsided smile. “Yeah. Be careful!” 

Jeno offered a deep bow, fluttering his eyelashes. “On a gentleman’s honor,” He sighed, adding a very bad British accent to it. You burst out laughing, eyes squeezing shut.

You didn’t catch the way Jeno’s shoulders relaxed at the sound.

I want you to know now

Baby, it could go down

I don’t wanna talk about it

Baby, let’s just go now

The train ride into Midtown didn’t take too long. He spent it digging through his backpack for his Park Industries lanyard, listening to music and thinking about you.

When you talk right to me 

You gon’ have to do me

Every time you think you’re leaving 

You running back to me

You’d met Jeno when you were six. Truth be told, he didn’t really remember. For him it was like you weren’t there at one point and by the time you were, you were thicker than thieves. It was a difficult time for him. He had just lost both of his parents, and was moving in with his Aunt Sunny and his Uncle Jinki, who were barely out of college at the time. He’d had to move to a new school and basically restart his entire life. You were the first sense of stability in his life for months. 

Your mom lived next to his aunt and uncle. So naturally, you went to the same school and went on the same bus. And somewhere along the way, you two clicked. You’d introduced him to Renjun, Jaemin and Donghyuck. You were there to comfort him whenever he got pushed off the slide by San or Wooyoung. 

He was there for you when your stepdad and stepbrother moved in when you were nine and you weren’t sure how to deal with it. He was there when your mom died when you were thirteen. He’d introduced you and your friends to Mark, Chenle and Jisung. 

And you were there when his Uncle Jinki got killed when he was fifteen. And because fate had an especially cruel sense of irony, it had happened on a Tuesday. You didn’t know, but at the time, he had just gotten his powers. Your comfort and words unknowingly had a secondary effect: he made the decision to use them for good, and… well. The rest was history. 

Can we just talk? Can we just talk?

Talk about where we're goin'

Before we get lost, lend me your thoughts

Can't get what we want without knowin'

Just like when he met you, he didn’t recall an exact moment where he realized he’d fallen in love with you. He knew there was a world where he loved you, but wasn’t in love with you. And he knew that there was a world here he’d fallen in love with you—he was living in that world now. He realized he was living in that world maybe when he was sixteen, and had been stuck in it ever since. 

You were it for him. He’d had crushes before. But never something like this, where he was so aware of your presence around him. It wasn’t the way he was hyper aware of someone like San, or like Yunho or Jongho. It wasn’t out of anxiety or fear, where a shift in mood activated his fight or flight. He was aware of you in a way that only people who truly know each other do, where he could pick up on subtle changes in your behavior, but not out of fear. Rather, out of a desire to take care of you and to not have you worry about anything. 

I've never felt like this before

I apologize if I'm movin' too far

Can we just talk? Can we just talk?

Figure out where we're goin'...

As the train rolled into the station that was a fifteen minute walk from Park Tower, Jeno put away his headphones and took a deep breath.

The “Jeno Tingle” as his Aunt Sunny called it—Jeno hated the term—had taken him a few years to gain control of. And while he could never truly turn it off, he could at least tune it out enough to be more at ease. The only time he did so was at school or when he was studying, just because he wanted to feel normal, and because being aware of everything going on around him really messed with his concentration. 

Jaemin didn’t understand. “If I was able to tell whenever Seonghwa was behind me because he wanted to scare me into doing his chemistry homework, I’d never turn that shit off,” He’d said once. But truthfully, Jeno didn’t really care. Because while yes, he was still slightly scared of the “hateful eight”, he knew damn well that if things got to be too much, he could kick their asses if he wanted to. 

It was his friends he worried about. He couldn’t be around them 24/7. You, not so much. He knew you knew how to fight. Even worse, he knew that San had the hots for you so you were off limits to the rest of them, be it bullying or flirting. But for everyone else… Well. He couldn’t hover over them like some guardian angel. 

Now that the “Jeno Tingle” was on, it allowed him to sense everyone within a certain range around him. He could zero in on certain sounds with ease, and his reflexes became heightened. Halfway on his walk up Park Avenue, he jumped away from a chihuahua on its leash a second before it started barking at him.

When he entered the first floor lobby of the Park Building, he scoured the crowd of employees and visitors until he landed on one familiar face. 

He'd met Doyoung about a year after his dad started dating your mom. Things between your parents were starting to get serious, and Doyoung was four years older than you were. When they moved into your house, Doyoung as your new stepbrother became the de facto chaperone and babysitter. If you wanted to go to the mall with Jeno, he had to take you. Every time you dragged Jeno to the movies, Doyoung had to go also. 

To an extent, it wasn't that bad. Doyoung was cool, and he was smart—he was the one who got Jeno interested in computers and chemistry. He graduated high school at 16, and finished his bachelor's degree at 19. He'd also interned at Park Industries, and secured a job there almost immediately after college. 

To an extent, he was the whole reason Mr. Park knew who he was, because of one incident. It was relatively soon after he started the whole vigilante thing. Jeno, still figuring out how to maneuver on the webs that shot out of his wrists, had accidentally crashed into your backyard late at night, when only Doyoung was awake. He was standing in the back door while he was waiting for his dog to finish peeing. 

Initially, the older boy had freaked out, thinking that it was a burglar or something. When he yelled out that his dad was a cop and was asleep in the house, Jeno panicked, and pulled off his mask, holding up his hands.

“Woah, woahwoahwoah! Doyoung! It’s me, it’s me!” 

Doyoung’s eyes had widened to the size of saucers, paying no mind to the dog as it sauntered up to Jeno, before turning onto its back in a request for belly rubs.

"You're the spider guy everyone's been talking about!?"

"Spider man," Jeno had answered, voice cracking as he dusted himself off. He cringed at the sound of his voice. "...and yes."

Of course, his cover was blown, and he'd begged Doyoung not to tell anyone, especially not you. And while Doyoung had promised not to tell you, it didn't stop him from telling his boss. 

That had been almost three years ago now. The rest was history, and after that Jeno didn’t have to run around in bright red sweatpants and dollar store swimming goggles. Now, he had a nanotech suit that allowed him to activate protocols of the suit through voice commands using something top-secret Mr. Park called D.R.E.A.M technology. Direct Response Engaged As Machine—yeah, Jeno didn’t get it either. 

Doyoung offered Jeno a smile as he escorted Jeno past security, showing them his employee clearance pass. "Hey. How have you been?"

Jeno shrugged, recounting his day in minor detail as he was led into an elevator labeled authorized personnel only. 

This elevator only went up to the 35th floor, seeing as everything past that was only cleared for a certain list of people approved by Mr. Park and his security team, and everything past the 90th floor were Mr. Park's private living quarters. 

Now, as Doyoung led him to another elevator to head up to the 85th floor, which was always where Jeno got to meet with Mr. Park—which wasn't often, maybe once or twice a year—he wondered where he would be if he hadn’t surprised Doyoung that night. He would probably still be using those ugly red sweatpants as part of his disguise.

"How's Y/N?" Doyoung asked. 

"Oh, she seems okay. That guy who hates me keeps coming onto her though. He's a huge douchebag."

Doyoung frowned. "He's not harassing her, is he? Because if he is—"

"He just won't stop flirting, even though she clearly isn't interested," Jeno said bitterly, "He isn't physical or anything. Trust me, it wouldn't end well for him if he was."

Doyoung wasn't quite sure how to respond to the younger boy's dark tone. He looked down, clearing his throat awkwardly.

“So… how’s the apartment?” Jeno asked. Doyoung perked up instantly.

“Oh, now that Taeyong’s moved in and did his interior design thing, it looks great. He’s really done a great job at it.”

“When am I gonna meet this guy? He sounds cool.”

“He’s really cool,” Doyoung hummed, cheeks heating up. “Things are getting really serious.”

Jeno smiled at how flustered Doyoung, who was normally so level headed and calm, became at the mention of his boyfriend.

“You guys sound like a really good couple,” He said. Doyoung chuckled, waving his hand. “Oh, well—” 

 The elevator dinged, and Doyoung sighed. “I’ll tell you later. C’mon.”

The hallway it opened up to was lined with pictures of the company's history, starting from pictures of black and white of people in vintage clothing, to pictures in sepia tones to finally pictures of the current CEO at locations around the world: Chanyeol Park.

Jeno walked behind Doyoung as he led him down the hallway, before stopping in front of a door, and a friendly looking man in a suit. 

Junmyeon was a part of Chanyeol’s Security and Intelligence team, and often sat in on these meetings with Jeno. The chain of contact also included him. If Jeno couldn’t contact Doyoung (which rarely happened), he’d contact Junmyeon. And if he couldn’t contact either of them, or it was an emergency, only then could he contact Chanyeol. So far, that had only happened once.

"Hey, Junmyeon," Doyoung said, "Mr. Park's 4:30 is here." 

Junmyeon nodded, before smiling at Jeno and giving him a wave. "Hey, kid."

Jeno offered an awkward grin. "Hi, Mr. Kim."

Junmyeon rolled his eyes sarcastically. "Kid, you're making me feel ancient. I've told you a million times, just call me Junmyeon."

Jeno shuffled awkwardly, before nodding at the older man, watching as he pressed a button on his earpiece. "Hey, Yeol. Jeno's here."

The muffled response was barely heard, but Jeno automatically understood what Mr. Park said. Junmyeon turned to open the door, and let the pair inside. The “office”—if it could even be called that—opened up to more of a lounge, than anything. A wall of glass overlooked the Manhattan skyline, but Jeno knew that from the outside it looked only like a wall, due to camouflage technology developed by Mr. Park himself. As Doyoung and Junmyeon stayed back, closer to the door, Jeno took a few steps toward the man in question.

Chanyeol was standing a few feet in front of the glass window, working on a holographic model of a new piece of tech. His face was turned downward in a concentrated frown. He barely spared the teenager a glance as he said fondly, “Hey, kid.”

Jeno was used to this. Chanyeol wasn’t cold per se, but he wasn’t warm at all. He knew that Chanyeol cared about him, even if he didn’t really show it in a conventional way. Chanyeol was a very… eccentric man, so he had his own way of saying and doing things. 

“Hi, Mr. Park. Um… you wanted to talk to me?”

“Yep! Needed some help from the friendly neighborhood Spiderman… A little birdie told me about something going on in Queens.”

“Queens?” Jeno asked, gripping the straps of his backpack. “You mean, other than the usual stuff?”

“Other than the usual stuff,” Chanyeol repeated, nodding. With a wave of his hand, the hologram disappeared, and another one appeared in its place. This time, instead of a 3D model, a few pictures and another, smaller 3D model appeared. Chanyeol turned to face him, frown deepening. He pointed at the model—a long, shiny oval-shaped purple stone. It reminded Jeno of an amethyst, but instead of turning white at the base, it turned to an iridescent jade tone. “You know what this is, right?”

Jeno nodded, remembering seeing the rocks all over the news when he was a kid. “That’s… that’s a Chitauri stone. From the invasion a few years back.”

Chanyeol nodded, standing up straight. “These stones have the potential to power weapons with no need to recharge, or change them out. They’re an infinite, extremely strong power source, Jeno, and in the wrong hands can be very dangerous.”

Jeno took a deep breath, feeling his stomach sink slowly. Chanyeol sighed. “Cleanup of the city after the invasion was long, and difficult, and obviously the government and the company weren’t able to get everything. It caused a black market to pop up. Now, the NYPD has been investigating it for years, but they have their limits… that’s where you come in.”

“M-me, Mr. Park?”

Chanyeol gave him a crooked, reassuring smile. He pointed at one of the pictures, which was of a man who most likely didn’t know he was photographed. He was walking somewhere, face looking angry and stern.

“You don’t know who this is, right?”

Jeno shook his head, and Chanyeol turned his head to nod at Junmyeon. “You’re up, tough guy.”

Junmyeon huffed, before walking up to Jeno. He put his hand on Jeno’s shoulder as if he could tell that he was growing anxious. 

“Jeno, that’s Henry Duke. From what we understand on the intel team, he’s one of the cornerstones of the alien tech black market. He’s one of the top dogs. From what we understand, he likes to be present for all major negotiations that his group makes. A source of ours told us that there’s going to be a negotiation on Friday night not too far away from LaGuardia. We want you to go out there and just get a feel of what’s going on.”

“Just watch them, right?” Jeno looked at Junmyeon, who patted his back reassuringly. “Just watch. Don’t engage unless you absolutely have to.”

“You can do that, right?” Chanyeol said quietly, crossing his arms. “Because if not, then it’s totally—”

“Yeah, of course I can! Friday—shit, Friday. At what time are they supposed to be meeting up?”

Junmyeon furrowed his eyebrows, before answering, “Around eight or nine.”

Jeno bit his lip, thinking about the promise he’d made to you. It would just have to wait, he supposed. Chanyeol rarely asked anything this big of him.

“Alright,” Jeno agreed, “I’ll do it.”

Chanyeol grinned, clapping his hands together. 

“Perfect.” 

They discussed logistics briefly after. Doyoung would be on call with Jeno, his custom made suit allowing them to communicate, letting Doyoung see everything Jeno was seeing via a video feed coming from the ultra thin lenses placed in the white eye sockets of the mask. Doyoung would then report to Junmyeon, who would report to Chanyeol, who would probably report to the FBI. Jeno was only to engage if absolutely necessary.

After that, he set out on patrol. He usually found some discreet place to hide his backpack, and then went all over Queens looking for trouble, quite literally. Around five thirty, he stopped a robbery in Murray Hill. Then, around seven, he stopped a man from stealing a woman’s purse in Elmhurst. Nothing too much.

Around eight, he finally headed home, this time dressed normally, using the train and not web fluid. He walked home, tired, knowing that he’d immediately have to do that cursed AP calc homework. When he got home, he opened his backpack pocket to look for his keys, rummaging between his notebooks and other things. 

Shuffling through his stuff, he furrowed his eyebrows as he couldn’t find them. Thinking back, he remembered this morning, when he’d left in a rush… and had very obviously left his keys on his desk.

“Shit,” He muttered to himself. He rubbed his eyes tiredly, remembering that Aunt Sunny had said she’d be working overtime tonight. He could very easily sneak in through his window, but he was pretty sure he’d locked it the night before, and it was too early. People’s lights were still on—anyone could see him if they just looked up, and then he would be screwed. 

Huffing and zipping his backpack up, he marched up to your house, before ringing the doorbell. He shifted his weight back and forth, from his heels to the balls of his feet, until the door opened up. A familiar man with a face just like Doyoung's, but older, with graying hair and arms scarred and muscled from years of working on the police force stood in the doorway.

“Jeno?” Your dad offered him a warm smile. “Hey, kiddo, what’s up?”

“Hi, Mr. Kim,” Jeno said, smiling back. He shifted nervously. “I, um… I left my keys in my room this morning, and my aunt’s working late, so… could I… maybe wait here? Y/N’s home, right?” 

The man nodded. “Of course, of course. Come in!” 

Your dad had always been super friendly, even from the day Jeno had first met him. You'd told Jeno once that he was the only real father figure you'd ever had. Once everything settled after him and your mom got married, you started calling him dad altogether. And since you and Jeno were practically glued at the hip, he got along with your dad almost as well as you did.

“Okay.” Jeno stepped in and set down his backpack at the base of the coat rack next to the door, as he’d done a million times before. Jeno stepped into the living room, and sat down on the couch. He folded his hands in his lap and looked up at your dad.

"I think Y/N's in the shower, but she should be done soon. You can just wait here if you want… have you eaten anything yet?”

“Uh, I had a granola bar on the train, but that’s it.”

“We have some leftover pasta here, if you want—”

“Thanks, Mr. Kim, really! I’m fine.”

Your dad nodded, sitting down on his recliner. “So, have you started your college list, yet? Y/N said you wanted to stay here in New York.”

Jeno nodded, pushing some hair out of his face. “Well, yeah. It would make things a lot easier, I think. I might want to apply to NYU, but I think I’ll just go to community college, or something.”

Your dad shook his head. “You’re a pretty smart kid, Jeno. I think you could get into Columbia if you set out to. Plus, Chanyeol Park doesn’t give out internships to anybody. That’s your secret weapon.”

Jeno smiled. “Well, you’ve got a point.” 

Your dad gave him a friendly punch on the shoulder. “Come on, trying won’t hurt!” Your dad made a face, and then rubbed his knuckles. “Have you been working out? Those muscles weren’t there the last time I did that.”

Jeno laughed, trying to think of an excuse. “Oh, a little bit? The house needed some fixing up over the summer, and I wanted to help Aunt Sunny, so…”

“Jeno?” 

He turned immediately, eyes landing on you at the base of the staircase. You’d changed into an old t-shirt and pajama pants. Your hair was slightly damp. “What are you doing here?” You asked, with a curious smile.

His shoulders slumped, and he grinned sheepishly. “Terrible Tuesday strikes again. I forgot my keys.”

You grimaced. “Brutal, dude. You wanna come up?” Your eyes moved to your dad. “Or am I interrupting guy time?”

“Oh, definitely,” Jeno answered, playing along. He took a cocky tone as he rested his hands on the back of his neck. “Your dad was just telling me about how much the NYPD needs me.” 

You stifled a laugh. You dad seemed to be holding back a laugh too. "Hey, you're joking, but if you keep working out like that, and if by some impossible chance, the college thing doesn't work out… We might just be able to catch Spiderman if we finally got some brain cells on the force."

"Ugh, dad," You groaned, unaware of Jeno's gut twisting, "Not again."

"Yeah, Mr. Kim," Jeno said, scratching the back of his head, "He's not that bad."

Your dad shook his head. "Look, I don't hate the guy. In all honesty, crime rates have dropped since he started doing his thing. But he thinks he's above the law, and his methods can be a bit… unorthodox sometimes. He’s been undermining us for years and his tech is state of the art. Makes me wonder about what we should do to modernize the force."

Jeno looked downward, wondering what would happen if your dad knew the truth.

"Well, I guess we may just never find out. Jeno'd make a horrible cop. He couldn't hurt a fly if you paid him a million dollars."

But you came to the rescue as you grabbed his backpack, and soon enough he was up the stairs with you, heading into your bedroom, laughing to yourselves when you heard your dad jokingly call out, "Fifteen inch distance, you two! Door stays open!"

He sat on your desk chair while you lay on your bed, limbs splaying out. 

"So you left your keys."

Jeno groaned. "Don't remind me. I was in such a rush to leave, that I… I forgot. I'm so stupid."

You rolled your eyes, rolling over onto your stomach to look at him. "You're not stupid, Jen. You made an honest mistake because you were in a hurry." 

Standing up, you walked over to him and leaned against the desk. "Seriously, Jeno. What's gotten into you, lately? You freak out about every little thing. It's starting to worry me." 

Jeno shook his head. "I don't know," He admitted. "I think I'm just scared about how after this year, everything changes. Renjun’s headed upstate. Jaemin’s going to Boston. You want to go to LA. I think Hyuck and I are the only ones who want to stay here. I just… I don't want things to change." 

Your expression turned sad as he continued. "Everyone is expecting great things from me. You're smart, Jeno. You can get into an Ivy. Or, you have a Park internship, you'll be fine. What if I don't want things to be fine? What if I want them to just stay the same?"

You stayed silent for a few moments, trying to think of what to say. Jeno was relatively level headed for someone your age, but even he had moments of doubt and panic. It made moments like these difficult.  You sighed before grabbing him by the hand. Wordlessly, you tugged him over to the bed, sitting him down and leaning your head on his shoulder. He could feel the dampness in your hair seeping slowly into his shirt.

"I guess I understand what you mean," You mumbled, trying to reason with him, "But come on. You wouldn't really want everything to stay the same. You can't tell me you want to keep getting AP calc homework. And I definitely doubt that you'd want to have your ass kicked by San for the rest of your life."

Jeno looked at the floor. "You're right. But you know that's not what I mean—"

"I know," You huffed, "I'm just saying. Change… it's inevitable. The longer you fight it, the harder it is."

Jeno nodded. "This sucks."

"It does," You agreed, taking his hand in yours. "But at least we have each other's backs, y'know?"

Something of a smile appeared on his face. You were so close to him, leaning on him, stroking his knuckles with your thumb. He hoped you couldn't hear his heart pounding in his chest. 

"We really do, huh?" His voice turned quiet, with a bit of a sleepy lull to it. He allowed his head to rest on yours. "You're so comfortable. Can I like, use you as a pillow for the rest of my life?"

You giggled. "I'll consider it on two conditions."

"Oh, you'll consider. How generous of you."

"Yes, I'll consider. Now, do you wanna hear my terms or not?" 

Jeno raised an eyebrow. "Go ahead," He said, before putting on his best Marlon Brando voice, "Make me an offer I can't refuse."

Snorting, you lifted your head off of his. "Okay. One, you finish your calculus homework here before Sunny gets home."

He pursed his lips. "Okay, I could probably do that. What's the other one?"

"Let me drive you to school for the rest of the year." 

Jeno stared at you, and you nodded, eyes wide. "Trust me, Jen. You wouldn't need to wake up so early! And plus, you can't text the guy manning the subway asking him to give you five minutes because you need to find your keys."

Jeno gnawed on the inside of his cheek. You did have a point, and to be honest, he could probably refrain from putting his feet up on your dashboard.

"Deal." 

You grinned. "Awesome," You answered, before nodding towards his backpack. "Now get to work, Einstein."

The rest of the week wasn't that bad. Yes, you were absolutely batshit insane about your truck in the morning, but he soon realized he didn't really mind. Not when it allowed you both to spend some twenty extra minutes together in the mornings, and they were spent joking around and listening to your extremely varied playlist. 

On the other hand, he was saddled with more and more homework, greater and greater expectations. The looming threat of Friday's mission rolled around, and it made Jeno feel like time was passing much too slowly but also way too quickly. There was so much on his mind. He had chemistry with you on Thursdays in the afternoon, which also meant that San was there. Which also meant that sometimes, his heightened senses would pick up on San dropping a tacky pick up line which made Jeno want to punch him in the jaw.

Finally, finally, Friday afternoon rolled around. As he bid you goodbye and promised to see you later, he tried to ignore the feeling in his stomach. The feeling that something was about to go very, very wrong. He went out on patrol, ready for Doyoung to set up the call and tell him where he needed to go. It didn’t help that there wasn’t a lot for him to do that day. Crime had seemed to slow down altogether. 

When the time finally came, and the sun was beginning to set, Doyoung rang in at about 7, telling him the location. An old warehouse near LaGuardia airport, hidden from prying eyes. Jeno made his way to the place, avoiding security cameras Doyoung warned him about, and found a place to hide. There was a hole in the warehouse roof, which allowed him to peer right into the building without being seen. It was about thirty feet from the ground.

“Why is it always old, abandoned warehouses?” Jeno grumbled. He heard Doyoung laugh quietly. 

“Beats me,” Doyoung sighed. 

And so they waited. Jeno wondered vaguely if you were still working. He wasn’t sure. They made time talking quietly, until a black SUV rolled into the warehouse. “Woah, Doyoung,” He murmured, “Hold up.”

Jeno leaned forward, but quickly realized he probably wouldn’t be able to hear what was being said. “D.R.E.A.M, activate Heightened Intelligence Protocol.”

Activating Heightened Intelligence Protocol.

The protocol allowed Jeno to use the lenses over his eyes to zoom in on specific targets, as well as use a microphone embedded in the suit to pick up audio from far away and feed it directly into his ears.

He watched as three figures got out of the car, a fourth remaining in the driver’s seat. The trio stood in front of the car, and Jeno recognized the man in the middle as the man Junmyeon had been talking about.

“Alright, there’s Henry Duke,” He said, “The one in the middle.”

 “Got it,” Doyoung replied, sounding satisfied. “Now all we have to do is wait for the other party.”

“Did Junmyeon’s sources say anything about who it would be?”

“No. They weren’t able to find that out. Guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”

Jeno’s eyes never left the man. “Do you think it’s something international?”

Doyoung sighed. “I’m not sure. If it is international, then you need to be even more careful.”

“Got it. I think—Wait, here they come.” 

A second vehicle, this one another black SUV, rolled up not too far away from the first car. The lights turned off and the engine sputtered to a stop, and four men stepped out of the vehicle.

Jeno’s stomach dropped, and of its own accord, his mouth let loose a quiet, “What the fuck,” as he registered the person leading them. 

“What?” Doyoung asked, before realizing what—who—he was looking at. “...Is that my dad?”

“I think it is,” Jeno whispered, fingertips suddenly numb. Who was he kidding? They both knew who it was. 

“So,” One of the men next to your dad said, “You show us yours, we’ll show you ours?”

Henry Duke clapped his hands together with an impish grin. “I suppose. Reagan, get the case.”

One of the two men standing beside him started off toward the trunk of the car. “It caught me off guard when I heard that the force wanted to purchase these. Almost made me wonder if this was your attempt at a sting operation.”

“What made you change your mind?” Your dad asked. Jeno swallowed at how cold he sounded. This wasn’t your dad, and it didn’t seem like Officer Kim either. This was someone Jeno had never met before. 

“Honestly, Kim?” Duke raised an eyebrow, shrugging. “It was you. Your cooperativeness and willing to feed us information, as well as your… insurance agreement. And besides, you made a very interesting point when you said that the Avengers Initiative and Park’s alum Spiderman is ruining the way the law operates around here. That type of bitterness… hard to fake.”

Your dad huffed. “We’re fucking tired of it.”

The man leaning against the car your dad had stepped out of scoffed. “If this helps us catch the little asshole, then so be it.”

Jeno frowned. “I’m not little—”

“Jeno, shut up!” Doyoung snapped. 

“—Alright, then.” The man holding the briefcase—Reagan—clicked it open, as if it were a prize reveal on The Price is Right. Five guns, all modified to hold glowing Chitauri stones were placed carefully together side by side.

“You know the basics. No radiation. Keep it away from security scanners and x-rays. They will blow up. And second of all, these are at half the price, along with the promise from the chief of police that my business won’t be touched, and will only be distributed to officers in on the operation and have agreed to turn off their body cameras when they decide to use these weapons. Should this not be a sting operation, we’ll be back here to negotiate.”

Jeno leaned forward, watching anxiously.

“Yes, sir,” Your dad answered, nodding. “We have the money here.”

“Hand it over, then.”

That was when Jeno made his mistake. He leaned forward too much, and proceeded to fall right through the hole, bringing down some scraps of the roof with him. As he tumbled through the air, the zoom on his lenses caused him to grow dizzy as he had no idea what he was looking at. He caught himself before he could fall, clumsily commanding D.R.E.A.M to go back to turn off the current protocol. His vision returned to normal, and he swung up onto a rafter holding the warehouse up.

“So, we have company.” Duke didn’t sound as amused as he had before. His face turned into a sneer. “Get him.”

In less than a second, before Jeno could say anything, five guns were pointed directly at him. He managed to swing away before any bullets could hit him. 

“Jeno, get out of there now,” Doyoung ordered. 

“What about the guns?” Jeno asked, swinging to another rafter. “They know I’m here, I might as well get them before I go—”

“No! Jeno, listen to what I’m telling you. You’ve done more than enough, and you need to let it g—”

Your dad aimed, and a bullet fired right at Jeno’s chest. For a second, he forgot that the chest area of the suit was lined with bulletproof material. While it didn’t shoot into his chest, it ricocheted right off him, and since he was in motion, it somehow caused the bullet to bounce back in the direction in which it came. 

The wind was knocked out of Jeno, but it was nothing compared to watching the bullet land in the middle of your father’s chest. On the other line, he heard Doyoung yell, followed by the sound of something falling. And then, as he made his way back towards the hole he’d fallen out of, he couldn’t rip his eyes away from the body as it crumpled to the ground. 

The others around him scrambled to get back into their respective cars. Jeno was back on the roof now, trying not to hyperventilate. “I’m sorry,” He gasped, “Do—Doyoung, I-I’m sorry, I didn’t want to—”

“Jeno, you need to get out of there, now,” Doyoung said, voice raspy. “GO!” 

So he did, and Doyoung cut off the call once he was out of the vicinity. Jeno didn’t blame him. He swung across buildings, feeling numb as he looked for the apartment complex roof where he’d decided to hide his backpack.

When he finally did, he changed in a hurry, before slumping against the wall and forcing himself to take deep breaths. 

Doyoung’s dad—your dad—was dead. And it was all his fault. 

He cried on the way down the staircase. He cried on his way to the subway. The entire time, he ignored people’s stares. Suddenly everything was too loud, and if he met someone in the eyes he’d just about break down in the middle of the station. 

As he got onto the train, Jeno thought about all of the things your dad had done for you, and for Jeno. All the times he'd taken you both to Coney Island in the summer when you were younger. The year Pokemon Go came out he took the both of you driving around in his car so you and Jeno could catch as many Pokemon as you could. 

He’d formally adopted you when you were thirteen. You were his daughter in nearly every sense of the word, regardless of blood. And now he was dead, because of a stupid mistake that Jeno had made.

What would you say if you knew? He didn’t want to know. Checking the time on his phone, he saw he’d gotten a message from you just three minutes ago.

[8:36 PM]

y/n: lemme know when ur outside!! :)

“Fuck,” He murmured, wiping his eyes. He knew he needed to stop crying before he got to your house, and he had about ten minutes before he got to his stop, and then another five minute walk to the neighborhood. He focused on taking deep breaths and taking long swigs from his water bottle in the meantime, trying to tune out the sound of other people talking and the sound of the train on the rails.

The walk was the longest five minute walk he’d ever taken. The flashing lights of convenience stores did nothing to calm him down. As the stores in his peripheral vision began transitioning into suburban homes, he felt his heart speed up again. The constant movement as he walked meant he missed his phone vibrating in his backpack as you rang his number.

After what seemed like an eternity, two familiar houses came into his line of vision, and his shoulders slumped as he spotted you on your porch, looking small and teary, curled up into a little ball. In one hand, you were clutching your phone.

His stomach twisted as he put on a confused tone, even though he knew damn well that you knew. “...Y/N?”

You stood up, running to him and burying yourself into his chest, crumpling into his arms. You would have fell over if Jeno hadn’t held both of you up. 

“Jeno,” You sobbed, “You’re n-not go-onna believe it.”

He brought a hand up to caress your hair, holding back tears of his own as he asked a question he already knew the answer to.

“Y/N, what happened?”

taglist: @decembermoonskz @itsapapisongo @lenaluvs​ @crescentjen​

[equestrianwritingsstuff]

Ohhh. More drowning, because of the TRAUMA...

That would probably be very, very traumatic for him. In reference to this post, but these torture chapters are going to be shorter unless people ask for more than one per ask.

Drowning Part 8

Masterlist

@shydragonrider @asrasmysoulmate @sunflower1000

Warnings: self-hate, comparing oneself to creature/monster, drowning, restraints, man-handling, regret, flashbacks, drug mention, begging

~

It had been a few days since the procedure. Or so Supervillain imagined, remembering that the doctors gave him a rapid-healing serum to help him recover in a few days- a week at most.

It was sketchy having a painless drug pumped into your body that miraculously healed its ailments. Supervillain shuddered as he thought of it. He would've given anything to heal naturally, like a human ought to do.

But of course, technology forbad such request.

Supervillain was now being rolled into another room- this one distinctively different from the lab. It was still white, which seemed to be the color theme for every room in the building, but this room held a different aesthetic. A large rectangular tub was placed in the center of the room. Pipes and lines led into it, barging through the sides where red tabs enabled whatever liquid that was carried inside to flow. The tub, empty at the moment, had a glass window in the front, but white tile obscured vision from the other sides.

Clinical restraints like the ones in the lab dangled inside. They were even padded, the apparent mood to the whole building.

The heroes pushing the gurney took him right to the side of the tub where grated stairs sat. They led up to a hatchdoor on the top, metal as well.

Then, piecing the whole view together, Supervillain realized. The tubes, the restraints...

He was to be drowned.

"No!" He wailed, sobbing to be exact, as memories of his previous water experience flooded into his mind. "Anything! Anything else, please! Please..." He hung his head and started to cry, every once in a while having another outburst, as the heroes prepared him and the tub for the inevitable torture.

He was completely limp, zoned out of his mind, by the time they were ready. His brown eyes looked at the wall, but they weren't staring or gazing or even acknowledging its very presence.

"P-please," he whispered shakily when a hand dragged him out of whatever mental hole he dugged for himself. He closed his eyes, blocking out the sight in front of him.

He felt himself being lowered, then cuffs latching onto his wrists and ankles. He hung his head, sniffling. He didn't want this. He couldn't do this.

Two sets of hands- equalling four in all- held him steadfast under the water. He thrashed, desperate for relief from the suffocating water in his trachea, in his lungs, but the hands above him kept him under.

"Start the water."

Supervillain stiffened, feeling a cool trickle hitting his toes. It quickly escalated to a puddle-

Blackness crawled at the edge of his vision, body going numb, but the pain- the utter agony of being unable to breathe was still there. He kicked out, hands flying to his shoulders where the humanoid restraints kept him down.

The water was at his knees.

Supervillain flipped himself upwards, feet and shoes breaking the surface of the water, but the darkness was still crashing down on him. It obscured nearly all vision until he was left with a tunnel.

The water crept up to his torso, to his ribcage.

"No, not this again," he whimpered, pulling slightly at his restraints. He looked up through the window to see content heroes, guards, and...

The doctor.

All staring at him, arms crossed in front of their chest, with black sunglasses hiding the emotions in their eyes. Not that there was any. No, these egregious creatures were cold-hearted, practically dead inside. Supervillain wouldn't be entirely surprised if they were drugged or surgically modified to hold such lack of empathy, of feeling.

Because who would ever allow someone to drown, to suffer, in a tub.

Him.

Supervillain did.

Supervillain held Hero under the water until she was close to passing out. He did the same to Villain. Then, he discarded them on the floor like roadkill.

He was the revolting creature that he so much despised.

And he hated himself for it.

The water begin to wade into his mouth now. He took deep, shaky breaths, trying to savor the sweet oxygen.

The water went above his mouth, filling it with the nasty taste of chlorine.

He suddenly felt like he was floating, laying there in the cold water with a dreamy feel. The world around him was ceasing to nothing, just a serene peace. Just tranquility...

Blackness covered his vision.

Blackness covered his vision.

All sound disappeared.

All sound disappeared.

Then it returned, leaving him gasping for breath, straining against the restraints.

They did this everyday until he stopped struggling.

Until he gave up.

[asexual-hugger]

Allison McQueen turns over and over in her sleep. Her bedroom is encased in a dreamy aura, and something forces her senses to go on high alert.

No. SomeONE.

A young man stands at the foot of her bed, wearing a loose-fitting shirt, the top three buttons already open and exposing his chest. He flashes a million-megawatt smile down at her.

“Detective?” Allison lets the word out groggily. “Am I dreaming?”

Detective Ernest Sinclaire approaches her bedside and places a finger against her lips, silencing her. “Sssssshhh.” His touch is gentle, and she feels all her emotions swelling up at once. “You are dreaming, but that doesn’t matter now.”

Allison is wide awake now, staring at him with a look of awe on her face. Her heartbeat quickens. Sinclaire stares back, his blue eyes flashing with desire.

“What are we doing?” Allison asks, struggling to find her voice. He is so perfect.

“What we’ve always wanted to do,” Sinclaire responds. “But first, I think you are wearing way too many layers.” Allison sits up with a mischievous glint in her eye and starts to remove her top, but he stops her. “Allow me.”

Ohhhhh. Allison bites back a moan as Sinclaire’s hands grope at her pajama top, carefully lifting it over her head, and then he pulls her sheets back to get at the bottom.

“You won’t be needing any of this,” he says in a voice dripping with lust.

“Oh, god yes! Please take it off!” Allison begs, barely hearing her own voice.

Sinclaire winks at her slyly and grips the edge of her bottoms in his teeth, slowly pulling them down to expose her black lace panties.

“Ohhh.” She moans softly at his motion. Every part of her that he touches releases a sensation that she’s never felt before. Desire. Longing. Passion. Was this what intimacy felt like? She’d never experienced it before, given her opinions about sex and relationships, but with Sinclaire...

“Oh!” She gasps as Sinclaire drags the bottoms off her ankles, gazing up at her from his lying-down position, and releases them from his teeth. Was he smirking? “Much better.” He looks satisfied as he straightens, and she can feel his piercing gaze raking over every inch of her body. A low growl emerges from the back of his throat as he studies her. “Bloody hell, Allison. Are you trying to kill me with that lacy lingerie? Because it is definitely working. I want to take you on this bloody bed right now.”

“Yes, take me, Detective,” Allison answers, desire clawing its way out. “Put your hands on me and take me, now. Take all of me!”

A wicked grin crosses Sinclaire’s face, and his eyes sparkle. He eyes her black getup with a deep hunger, but his fear of hurting her holds him back.

“Hell, I want to take you, Miss McQueen.” He begins to unbutton his long shirt all the way, slyly letting it fall to the floor. He now stands before her wearing only his boxer shorts, his perfectly-toned, athletic body exposed for her to see.

“Wow, Detective. You look hot!” She shifts her body and reaches out to touch him. He shivers with pleasure under her touch. He grips her wrists, guiding her hands to his waist. Her fingers move upwards, spreading apart slightly to feel the outlines of his ribcage.

“You like what you see?” he asks.

“Hell, yes!” She keeps her hands at his ribs and gazes up into his eyes. “Put your hands on me,” she says again. “Take me like you said you wanted to.”

“I do want to, Miss McQueen,” he responds. “Damn, I want to. It’s just that...I don’t want to injure you by being on top of you. I want to be gentle.”

“Don’t worry about injuring me,” Allison tells him. “Any injury I endure with you will be worth it. Unless you want me to take charge.”

“Oh, yes.” The word comes out of Sinclaire in a low breath. “Do take charge. You want to be on top? I love a woman who dominates.”

With surprising strength, Allison hops off the bed and grips him by the shoulders, turning him around and pushing him on to the bed, on his back. She crawls over and straddles his waist.

“Allison...” Her name comes out in a wheezy breath.

“Detective...” She runs a hand down his bare chest, slowly, letting him give in to her. She feels another shiver of pleasure come out of him.

“Ah!” He lets out a gasp. “Oh, bloody hell, Miss McQueen! Don’t stop!”

“Is this what you want?” Allison runs her fingers along his collarbone, gripping his shoulders and beginning to massage them. “Holy hell, Detective—you are tense!” she remarks, shaking her head in disbelief. “Your muscles are knotted up everywhere!”

“Are they?” Sinclaire looks innocent. “I never would have guessed. Oh!” He gasps loudly as she gives another squeeze. 

“Does that relax you?” she asks, a smirk turning up on her face.

“Hell, yes!” he wheezes. “It feels amazing! You have magic fingers, Miss McQueen! Oh, yes! Please...keep going!”

Without warning, Allison wakes up. Her eyes blink open. Her bedroom is quiet. She lies in her bed, alone. The tree outside her window shudders slightly, the branches creating moving shadows on her wall in the moonlight. 

Ugh. Her thoughts roam to her dream. Detective Sinclaire had seemed so real. The way he had entered her room without a sound and had that wild lusty look in his eyes when he saw her in her underwear.

Stop! she scolds herself. Why did I even have that dream? He’s my boss! I’m not supposed to be having fluff dreams about him! This is so embarrassing! 

Her cheeks grow hot, and she immediately places her hands against them to try and cool them down. Detective Sinclaire can’t know about this. He can’t know that I’m dreaming about him in such inappropriate ways. I made myself clear. I don’t want a romantic, sexual relationship with anyone. Relationships are a waste of time. You get no independence, no freedom to make your own decisions. Once you’re with someone, your singlehood is gone. You’re always thinking about the other person, you’re always tending to their needs and you have no time to yourself. You’re arguing over everything, from money to what to make for dinner. You basically have no life. At least not one that matters to you, anyway. As desiring as he was, and as tempted as she felt around him, Detective Ernest Sinclaire couldn’t be any more than her very best friend who loved her dearly.

She glances at the time on her phone. A little after seven. Perfect. Time to get up and start the day. The dream would be her own personal secret reverie. Something she couldn’t have in real life, but could always come back to in the dream world. She never thought she could ever feel desire and intimacy so strongly, especially not with her boss. She didn’t even believe in such a thing. Besides, she thinks, if Detective Sinclaire ever became my husband, we’d lose that special connection we have. Our relationship wouldn’t be based around the rare bond that it is now. Yes, best friends could love each other without being married. It was a very rare occurrence, but it happened. 

It’s then that she realizes the dream ended before she even had a chance to kiss him.

“Yeah, that’s probably for the best,” she says out loud to the empty room. “I don’t want to have any more tempting thoughts than I already dreamt.”

She is just heading to the bathroom to wash up when a knock comes to the door. 

“It can’t be Detective Sinclaire, can it? It’s Saturday. As far as I know, I don’t work on weekends.” The last time a knock had come to her door while she was picking out her clothes for the day, it had been Sinclaire showing up early to drive her to his estate because he didn’t want her riding her bike in the rain. “Just a second!” She grabs her face mask in case of contact and goes to the door. An empty porch is seen through the peephole.

Strange. They must’ve gotten the wrong apartment. 

But when she opens the door, she is surprised to find a small box sitting on her mat. Attached to the top is a piece of paper with a handwritten note. The writing is looped, neat, and very legible.

“’Miss McQueen: Came across this yesterday when I stopped by the clothing store downtown, and I could see it lighting up your entire figure in all the right places. Thought you could use an upgrade for your wardrobe...and maybe have some special nights in. Detective Sinclaire.’”

She reads the note with confusion. That was what Sinclaire’s handwriting looked like? He just got better and better. What sort of mystery outfit could he have discovered this time? So far, he’d picked out some of the most amazing clothes for her to wear on their undercover missions, and each one had turned a significant number of heads, including his. He’d always found outfits that he was sure brought out her curves. One time he’d told her that she looked like a swimsuit model, and with a body like that, it deserved to be shown off.

“Damn, Detective, you always find ways to get me at my most vulnerable,” she mutters, bringing the box inside. It’s very lightweight. “What exactly did he mean by ‘special nights in?’ I know he’s a lot of things, but cryptic would’ve never been suspected as one.”

She reads the note again. It almost sounds...intimate. Was this what she thought it was?

She tears the box open. Lying inside is a very, yes, intimate set of lingerie. Black, lacy, and revealing in all the places she’d expect. The exact pair of lingerie she had been wearing in her fluff dream.

How in the damn bloody hell did he know??? Was he suddenly a psychic that sensed her innermost thoughts from miles away? Perhaps it was a lucky guess, or perhaps it was his detecting skills set to the highest setting. 

“Dammit.” The word escapes her in a shocked tone. “Remind me to never second-guess the greatest detective in Britain. I’m not even a lingerie-wearing kind of girl, but knowing you...well, I guess I’ll never figure you out entirely. This almost looks like something that I would wear, given my bland, dull underwear collection.”

She heads into the bathroom to change into it. It’s a perfect fit, and definitely emphasizes her body in all the right areas. She might even wear it under her clothes when she went back to work on Monday. She knew that Sinclaire would be thrilled to hear that she had on his gift, and she could only imagine the look on his face when she told him.

“Hell, yeah, I’m wearing this, and it won’t just be for secret, special nights in,” she says, admiring her reflection in the mirror. “I’m wearing it to work next week, just to try it out. Maybe I could send Sinclaire a selfie so he can see me wearing it.” She instantly regrets the last statement. Sending sexy selfies to one’s boss was not a good look. “Okay, totally unprofessional. Scratch the selfie idea. It’ll be better if I just write him a thank you note and give it to him on Monday when I see him. I can just be discreet about me wearing it under my boring, everyday work clothes.”

[ga-yuu]

~Kurama~Main Story Chapter 11~

Chapter 10

*

*

*

------Part 1------

After Sueharu left Kurama's room----

Sueharu: "Hey, everyone. Thanks again for having me."

Benkei: "Welcome back."

Yoichi: "Yeah, it's been a long time."

Sueharu: "I've been very busy, thanks to your orders."

Yoshitsune: "You went to the East this time, didn't you? How were the people there?"

When Sueharu arrives, Yoshitsune greets him with a faint smile.

Yoichi and Benkei, who had been waiting for him, also looked relaxed.

Sueharu: "I should be feeling the sign of war, but it seems peaceful here. The East is a place where Yoritomo's rule is strong. The people there trust him very much."

Yoshitsune: "----His talent for capturing and manipulating people's hearts with a single word or breath is still alive and well."

Benkei and Yoichi: ".................."

Sueharu: "Well, as a merchant, I'm glad to see that the city is gaining momentum."

Sueharu smiles as he pulls some stuff out of the carrier he keeps beside him.

Sueharu: "Also. Here's a little something for you guys. A nice potter's wheel for Yoichi."

Yoichi: "Woah."

Sueharu: "Benkei. I've brought tassels for your armor. They're heavy so, I've already kept them in your room along with some spare weapons."

Benkei: "Sorry for the trouble and also thank you. I'll have a look later."

Sueharu: "You're my clients, so you're in good hands."

Talking amiable as a merchant, Sueharu turned to Yoshitsune and held out his hand in a grand gesture.

Sueharu: "-----So. Minamoto no Yoshitsune, the general of the Rebel army. What do you want? Weapons, human resources, information....anything you like. However it's not for free though, remind you."

Sueharu smiles sarcastically, a hint of male sex appeal escaping his lips.

Yoichi: "Ohh, Black marketers are scary these days. Did you turn evil too?"

Sueharu: "Maybe...but no as much as Yoichi-san."

Benkei: "Come on guys, be serious."

Yoshitsune: "I don't think they're both bad."

Sueharu and Yoichi: ".............."

When Yoshitsune replied with a straight face, Yoichi laughed and Sueharu had an indescribable expression on his face.

Sueharu: "Haa....that's because you are very innocent at times."

Benkei: "Idiot! That's one of the great things about Yoshitsune-sama, isn't it?"

Sueharu: "Yes, yes."

Sueharu shrugs his shoulders as Yoshitsune looks on in wonderment.

Yoshitsune: "....? For a start we have a lot of weapons, people, and information that we want. I want enough to beat the Shogunate. Sueharu, I'll take your price."

-----Part 2------

Yoshitsune: "I want enough to beat the Shogunate. Sueharu, I'll take your price."

Sueharu: "Whoa. Are you sure? You can't say that to a merchant."

Yoshitsune: "We've known each other a long time. I trust Sueharu to have been accommodating after we were targeted for defeat as the Rebels. It was only with your help that we survived an army and were able to rebuild Hiraizumi from a shabby state."

Sueharu: "Haa....Just so you know, mine is not a friendship, it's an investment. I'm a businessman."

Yoshitsune: "Even if you are, I'm grateful. That's all I'm saying."

In response to Sueharu's oblique stance with his cheekbones, Yoshitsune spoke plainly.

Sueharu looked away as if he was out of tune.

Sueharu: "....I see. Then, thank you for everything. I'll let you know the price tomorrow and when each item will be delivered."

Yoichi: "You're going to stay here for a while, aren't you, Sueharu? We're having a party tonight!"

Benkei: "I don't know if we'll have any good sake. Kurama drank a lot of it yesterday."

Sueharu: "Worry not, I've got a bottle with me."

Yoichi: "Oh, that's even better~"

Sueharu: "Praise be to you."

After beating his chest with his trumpet, Sueharu opened his mouth as if he remembered something.

Sueharu: "By the way, what happened to Kurama?"

Yoshitsune: "What happened?"

Sueharu: "He seems to be very close with Yoshino....also he reacts in a very human way."

Yoichi: "Hmmm.....you think so too, don't you?"

Sueharu: "No matter how you look at it."

Benkei: "I can't even say that Kurama himself is unaware of it."

They all look at each other and nod.

Sueharu: "As far as I know, Kurama has a very particular taste in things and people. When it comes to being suitable for those glasses, Yoshino is no just a person, but...."

Yoshitsune: "Maybe so..."

Yoshitsune's muttering words made Sueharu a suspicious face.

Sueharu: "She looks ordinary at first glance, doesn't she? Cute and not out of place..."

Yoshitsune: "There's nothing unusual about the way she looks. But....Yoshino looked us straight in the eye."

Yoshitsune continues to speak quietly, as if in deep thought.

Yoshitsune: "Although she is alert and nervous, I don't see any hostility in Yoshino's eyes. That is the gaze of someone who has endured fear and is quietly trying to grasp the essence of us."

Benkei: "....Yeah."

Yoichi: "It's a shame. If only we had been on the same side from the start....." <-they already like her.

Sueharu: "Ohhh, I see now."

-------Part 3-------

Sueharu: "Ohhh, I see now."

Sueharu, who had been listening in silence, let out a breath.

Sueharu: "A mere pharmacist girl, who is bound to the Nine-tail fox, captivated the attention of Karasu Tengu, joined the Shogunate to fight and is adored by the Rebels....It's a shame because if she was a free bird, we would have never let her go."

....................

(I'm very nervous to stand in front of this guy, indeed.)

Yositsune(expressionless): "I see. You want to go with Yoshino to see a silversmith."

Kurama: "Yeah. I want to make her useful."

When it was afternoon, I was taken by Kurama to visit Yoshitsune-sama's room.

Benkei and Yoichi-san were also present, apparently having a meeting about politics.

Benkei: "Did you forget that Yoshino is a prisoner. She's not allowed to have that much freedom."

(Of course, if you think about it calmly, it's only natural that they won't allow me...)

(But for whatever reason, I think it's nice to be able to get out of this building at least.)

Kurama: "Even if she's a prisoner, she should be allowed to do as I say."

Yoichi: "Hmm....just so you know, she's the prisoner of the Rebels, not just your alone."

Yoshitsune: "As long as Kurama is with you, I don't mind."

Yoshino: "Eh?"

I blink my eyes in surprise at the unexpected statement.

Benkei turned his sharp gaze on Yoshitsune-sama.

Benkei: "Yoshitsune-sama is too sweet with Kurama."

Yoshitsune: "If that's the case, it's partly because Kurama has a soft spot for me."

Kurama: "When did I ever have a soft spot for you? I'm sure I've only trained your body and soul."

Yoshitsune(smiling): "Exactly."

Despite the unchanging tone of voice, I was struck by the dreamy smile on Yoshitsune-sama's lips.

(The bond between Yoshitsune-sama and Kurama still feels a little special.)

Yoshitsune(back to expressionless): "Yoshino."

Yoshino: "Y-Yes!"

His amethyst eyes stare at me in silence, and I break out in a cold sweat.

Yoshitsune: "Are you okay with that?"

Yoshino: "Hm?"

Yoshitsune: "Even if you go out there, you can't escape from the flying Kurama. You'll be dragged through the hostile territory, and we'll be forced to do things to you, that we don't want to."

(Does that mean that if I say I don't want to, Yoshitsune-sama will persuade Kurama....?)

Yoshino: "I..."

After thinking, I opened my mouth carefully.

Yoshino: "I think I'll go with Kurama."

(I don't want to know what they'll do to me if I tried.)

(If that means I should be near Kurama, then so be it. But still....)

I wanted to know the true nature of the unfathomable strength and vibrancy of this demon, Kurama.

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

1. I don't know if I'm useless.(+4/+4)

2. If there's something I can do to help....

3. I don't know what I can do..

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

Yoshino: "I don't know if I'm useless until I've done it."

Kurama: "That's the answer I love to hear. You have my praise."

(Oh)

Kurama, who lifted one end of his lips, pulled my hand.

Kurama: "We're done here. Come, Yoshino."

------Part 4-------

Kurama: "We're done here. Come, Yoshino."

As I was being dragged away, I quickly thanked Yoshitsune-sama and the others.

Yoshino: "P-Please excuse us!"

..............

After Yoshino and Kurama left the room------

Yoichi: "Don't look so worried, Benkei."

Benkei: "I'm not. If it's Yoshitsune-sama's decision, I don't mind."

Yoshitsune: "I'm sorry. I always give you a hard time."

Benkei: "That's not it. But...."

A faint smile played on his lips as he broke off his speech.

Benkei: "But hey, if he's trying to change something by interacting with Yoshino, then maybe that change might not be too bad."

............................

After that------

Yoshino: "Haaa.....finally I'm outside!! It's been a long time and I'm really looking forward to it."

As I breathe in the air and stretch out in the sunshine, Kurama gives me a stare.

Kurama: "Don't even think of running away. It's no fun in killing someone before they've achieved their goal."

(I'd be lying if I said that I didn't think about running away at this moment.)

Yoshino: "I know. I also promise I'd be there and I never break my promises."

Kurama: "Obidient woman."

I blinked in confusion at Kurama, who chuckled.

Yoshino: "Kurama, you look happy."

Kurama: "If I get the silversmith to work, I'll make him do more of what I like. It is the right and pleasure of the strong to have what they want."

(You are really obsessed with shiny articles, don't you?)

Kurama: "And today....you're here."

Yoshino: "Yeah, so?"

Kurama: "Do I have to tell you again? well, whatever."

(Ah)

Kurama turns around and pulls me towards him, looking closely into my face.

Kurama: "You often betray my expectations. While frustrating, your attitude certainly keeps boredom at bay. Let me enjoy myself as much as I can today."

(I don't know what you mean by that....)

When he said it in a voice that resonated in the pit of my stomach, my heart raced as if it were a sign.

Yoshino(blushing): "Don't put so much burden on my shoulders."

Kurama: "You have a small amount of freedom to choose whether to endure the pressure or go under."

-----Part 5------

Kurama: "You have a small amount of freedom to choose whether to endure the pressure or go under."

(I think Kurama treats me like a rare insect in a cage....)

(No, don't think that. It makes me feel empty!)

Yoshino: "I don't know, but I'll do my best...."

Kurama: "I'm not sure how to put this but I'll take it. Let's get on with it."

Yoshino: "Mm. So will you let me go?"

Kurama: "Let go? You've got it all wrong..."

Yoshino: "Hm?"

(Kyaa)

As soon as I felt myself being embraced more strongly, I felt a floating sensation.

Kurama: "I can't wait for you to make your move if I'm to achieve my goal as quickly as possible."

(No way!!?)

Yoshino: "Wait! If someone sees us then....."

Kurama: "I've already made sure there was no traffic. Now we just need to fly high."

Yoshino: "No, no, no..."

My protests fall on deaf ears as Kurama continues to fly up high.

.........................

(Haaaaa, I'm feeling dizzyyyy!!!)

Kurama: "I took the whole trouble in bringing you here and you're wobbling?"

A few hours later, we left the town of Hiraizumi.

Finally, Kurama puts me down and hid his wings.

Kurama: "According to Sueharu's map, it should be around here."

Yoshino: "Yeah. The house that looks like it could be inhabited...."

Looking around, we see a simple hut in the countryside.

Yoshino: "Maybe it's that one?"

Kurama: "It should be."

.........

(Oh my!)

Without any time to stop him, Kurama instantly opened the door and walked inside.

Kurama: "You're the silversmith, right? Come on, work for me."

Old man: "Wh-Who....Who are you?!!?!!?!"

A small old man, who had been sitting alone at the hearth, looked up at Kurama with his soulless eyes.

Kurama: "Don't answer my question with a question, you fool."

(Oh god! He is going to kill the old man!)

Chapter 12

[toxophilitis]

Hot Daughter Peeps  cont

CHAPTER FOUR

Tracy felt creamy-dreamy after the cunt licking. She smiled at Al and purred like a kitten on his sofa. She dropped her hands to her sides and let him feast his eyes all over her naked young body, her legs still open. She liked him a lot now.

Her pretty face turned and her blue eyes peered at a scene on the screen, a woman sucking cock. Her eyes traveled to Al's tall, thick, pulsing prick.

Al read her mind and gave her the encouragement she needed. "Come here," he said hotly.

Tracy swung her legs off the sofa and got to her feet in front of him. He stared hotly at her and told her to remove her T-shirt. She smiled and peeled it off and let it fall to the floor behind her. Then she posed for him, stark naked and beautiful, all curves.

Her eyes fell to his throbbing cock and a quiver of anticipation rippled through her. Al settled back against the sofa and displayed his genitals, let her young eyes examine him thoroughly, just the way she wanted to.

"Don't be afraid," he murmured.

"I don't think I am," Tracy whispered.

She wasn't afraid now. She slowly knelt down between his knees and gazed steadily at his big, wet, throbbing prick.

"It's all yours," Al said thickly.

"Oh, wow," Tracy breathed, eyes hot on him. "It's so big."

Al was the perfect teacher. He sacrificed his own burning urges to let a horny teenager get to know her very first cock. Careful not to alarm her with his own mounting passion, he sat very still while Tracy explored his genitals.

She reached out with one hand and gripped his hot cock-shaft. Her slender young fingers curled around it and held it experimentally.

"It's hot," she observed.

Her other hand reached out and she felt his hairy nuts. Al groaned and Tracy looked up into his face. She squeezed his prick in one hand and fondled his balls with the other, just to see what it would do. It made Al groan again and look very hot. She liked that.

"Do what you saw me doing before," Al said.

"You mean, jerk it up and down?"

"Yes!"

Tracy giggled a little and made her small fist slide up and down on his hard-on.

Al reached out and finger tipped the underside of his cock-head. "Make your thumb rub here," he said. "This spot is like your clit."

"Oh," Tracy said, understanding immediately because she knew very well how sensitive her clit was.

She smiled with confidence and pumped her fist up and down, with her thumb upright to stroke his special spot with each upstroke. Al groaned louder and his hips moved.

"Will you shoot if I do this?" Tracy asked. "Yes!"

"I wanna see it," she rasped hotly.

"Go ahead," Al said.

Her eyes danced all over his raging prick as she pumped her fist up and down a little faster. Her other fingers toyed with his nuts and she felt them tighten up against the base of his cock. She held onto them and gently squeezed them as she jerked his prick.

"Jesus!" Al groaned through his teeth. "I'm so fucking horny from eating you! Here it comes!"

"Oh!" Tracy gasped.

She pumped faster still and her eyes went wide when his cock exploded in her hand. Al threw his head back and let out a howl. He gritted his teeth and groaned.

His cock jolted in her fist and she saw a huge wad of cream gush out of his piss-hole to splat wetly on his stomach.

"Don't stop!" Al bellowed.

Tracy jerked and pumped and his prick spit savagely. Big wads of cock-cream splattered his body and the sofa as his prick jerked and jolted wildly in her hand. He gushed like a geyser and Tracy was astounded by it all.

"Oh, golly!" she rasped as she made his big cock shoot and spit and gush wetly.

She didn't know she could do that. It made her feel like a big girl. She was proud of herself when the volcanic eruption was over and Al was trying to catch his breath. The extreme stiffness went out of his prick, but it was still nice and thick and hot.

The final shots of his jism had spilled downward and Tracy now smeared it all over his cock with her wet hand. It made her feel sexy.

Thoroughly smitten with this exciting hunk of meat men had, Tracy wanted more. She remembered what her horny mom had said to her lover after their first fast fuck.

"That was too fast," she said like a big girl. "Let's do it again."

She laughed at the look on Al's face when she said that. Then she caressed his wet cock in both hands and peered up at him over it.

"I know what to do," she said.

"You do?"

"Uh-huh. I saw my mom with a man this afternoon. She sucked his cock to make it big again."

"Jesus!" Al groaned.

Tracy held his cock upright and gave his sensitive spot a lick with her pink tongue. Al made a grunting noise in his throat, but kept his mouth shut, so as not to discourage the little nymph in any way.

Tracy concentrated on her new sex toy and gave it some more licks, testing it and tasting it. She hummed softly with approval and kissed his cockhead with her lips and tongue. This was better than her mother's vibrator. It was alive.

To Tracy's delight, the cock stiffened right away as she licked her tongue round and round the head of it. It grew thicker and harder in her hands and she caressed it like, a doll as she swirled her pretty tongue.

Free now to satisfy her curiosity, she trailed her saucy little tongue down the full length of the boner. Her chin kissed the hot nuts, then she slid her tongue all the way back up to the bulging cock-head.

"Good girl," Al said hotly.

Tracy smiled with pleasure at his compliment, and slipped her lips over his cock. It stretched her young mouth real wide as she took in several inches of the thick cock.

"Jesus!" Al groaned again.

Tracy moaned on his prick and snuggled closer to his hot crotch, getting comfortable so she could blow him good. She wanted to do that now, more than anything. So she slid her mouth up and down on his cock the way she saw her mother do it, the way she saw women in the film do it.

Sucking cock did something to Tracy. It turned her on something fierce, much to her amazement. She moaned passionately after a while and started sucking harder and faster on the stony prick.

Her fist tightened around his cock-shaft as her sexy mouth sucked up and down. Then she started jerking his prick as she blew him in a beautiful rhythm that drove Al up the wall.

She moaned as she sucked the massive prick. Sucking aroused her and she felt a familiar tickle start up in her belly. Then her pussy started tingling.

Aroused by the monstrous cock in her mouth, she thrust a hand down between her thighs and fingered her clit. She moaned louder then as she sucked and diddled at the same time. Her passion mounted fast.

She suddenly lifted her mouth off of Al's big cock and her eyes were glassy.

"I feel like I'm gonna cum," she panted.

Al picked up her sexy vibes and chuckled. "Sucking cock makes you horny, huh?"

"Yes!" she gasped, rubbing her clit.

"I know just the thing," Al said.

He slid out from her grasp and stood up, his prick extended and pulsing wildly before Tracy's eyes.

"Come here, you little sex kitten," he said. He took her hand and drew her across the carpet a few feet. He got down on the floor with her and laid down on his back with his cock sticking straight up.

"What are we gonna do?" Tracy wanted to know.

"Sixty-nine," Al said.

"Oh!" Tracy said, suddenly understanding. "Throw your leg over me," he instructed. She did, facing his cock.

"Now enjoy yourself down there. I'll take care of your hot little cunt," he said.

"Oh, golly," Tracy gasped.

She threw herself down on his big prick. She took it in both hands and stretched her lips over it. She was sucking even before Al's tongue touched her pussy.

He caressed her curvy ass-cheeks and played with them as he licked his tongue all over her sweet young crotch. Tracy moaned on his prick and sucked faster as he tongue-fucked her cunt. It was a beautiful sixty-nine. Tracy loved it!

"Mmm, mmmmm, mmmmmm," she moaned on his raging prick when his thick tongue tilled her pussy-hole.

It was the most exciting feeling! She wiggled her ass against his hot hands and squirmed her pussy on his mouth. She started humping as if she were being fucked, his tongue was so thick in her cunt-hole. And when he sucked on her quivery little clit, she screamed onto his prick.

Her whole body went crazy then as she came vibrantly. Shudders of ecstasy coursed through her as Al's tongue mined her on something wild. Cum pleasure like she'd never known was now hers as her next door neighbor ravished her pussy for her.

She whacked his cock vigorously as she came in his sucking mouth and she bobbed her pretty head faster to mouth-fuck his prick. The more she came, the harder she sucked, until Al was groaning threateningly.

"Mmmm!" Tracy moaned, feeling his cock enlarge in her mouth.

Al thrust his tongue up into her tight little pussy and got her off even as he thrust his big cock up into her sucking young mouth. His hot nuts lightened up and he drilled his cock up into her face.

Tracy held onto his prick for dear life as she creamed his mouth. She jerked him and sucked him passionately during her quivers of orgasm, then it happened. The monstrous cock exploded between her soft lips and her tongue lashed at the spitting cock-head.

Huge wads of cock-cream burst forth from Al's immense prick and Tracy moaned hotly as she sucked and swallowed and sucked and swallowed. Gobs of thick jism filled her mouth and she gobbled them down quickly, churning her hot, wet pussy on Al's mouth and tongue as she ate him.

She moaned hornily and screwed her hot pussy crazily all over his mouth and chin. And she sucked all the cum out of his balls as if she had been sucking cock all her life. The horny sixty-nine left them both gasping for breath.

"Ohhh, Mr. Benson!" Tracy sighed afterward, hugging him tightly. "That was fantastic! Ummmm, my pussy feels soooo gooooood!"

They were on their sides now and they kissed each other's genitals. Tracy licked at his prick, and Al buried his face in her young crotch. They remained that way for a long time.

Tracy was the first to roll away, and then only to pose naked on the floor for him. She looked lovely like that, just the way he had so often imagined her, young and fresh and virginal with tits and a cute cunt and ass.

"Do you like to look at me?" she asked softly.

"Yes. I'm at my window every day when you get home from school. I see you in your cute little mini-dresses and your T-shirts and skirts and tight jeans like these. I jerk off a lot, thinking about you."

"You do?"

"Sure. You turn me on."

"I've always been afraid of you," Tracy confessed.

"I know," Al said. "I was afraid of you, too."

"You were?"

"Well, not of you. I was afraid of myself around you. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to control myself someday and that I'd rape you."

"Golly!" Tracy gasped. "I didn't know you were that horny for me! No wonder I felt scared around you!"

"Are you scared now?" Al asked.

"Heck, no!"

Al couldn't resist her. He leaned over her lovely young body and kissed her mouth hotly.

He tongued her mouth and she moaned through the horny kiss. Her slender arms circled his neck and she surrendered to the kiss, never having been kissed like that by a man.

The long, hot kiss made her tits tingle and her pussy dampen. Al was well aware of it. He broke the hot kiss and slipped his horny mouth down to her jutting tits. He licked her nipples and sucked on them and fondled her tits.

"Ohhh, Mr. Benson," Tracy rasped. "That feels so nice. Mmmm, lick them some more."

Al spent some time on her ripe young tits, pleasing her curiosity and, her needs. Then he kissed his way down her writhing body to her furry, young pussy. Tracy giggled as his hot lips burned their way over her flesh, past her navel, down to her cunt. Her pretty legs opened by themselves.

He twisted around on the floor and got his mouth flat on her cunt. Tracy whimpered and raised her cute little ass up off the carpet to get more of his tongue into her pussy-hole. Al complied with her unspoken wishes and tonguefucked her cunt again.

He climbed over her trembling leg and knelt between her thighs. His prick was erect again, standing straight out from his bushy crotch.

Tracy's heavy eyes opened and she peered down at his cock, hovering right over her hot cunt.

She gripped her taut tits and massaged them. She licked her lips nervously. Her nipples stiffened. Her clit quivered. Her pussy was on fire. Al's cock was so big and nice and exciting.

"You promised not to fuck me," she said weakly.

"I know," he rasped hotly. "And I won't unless you tell me to. I just wanted to rub it against your pussy a little. Can I do that?"

"Okay," she said, and shivered.

Al gripped his massive prick in a fist and lowered it to her crotch. His wet cock-head kissed her clit and Tracy thought she'd die right then and there. Al held his throbbing cock tensely and rubbed it up and down her wet cunt-crack teasingly. Her pussy moved.

"Mr. Benson," she panted, licking her dry lips. "Fuck me!"

[spicycreativity]

Soft-Shoe Shuffle - Ch 1

Chapter: 1/12 Rating: T (for language) Content Warnings: Canon-typical Remus content. This chapter only: alcohol use Characters: All Pairings: Moceit, background Prinxiety, background Intrulogical (yes I played a little game of "pair the spares") Additional Tags: Hey it's the fic I published on Anon because I was embarrassed of how utterly pretentious it is!, post-PoF, sickfic, dirty poetry, humor interspersed with philosophy and Janus-typical pontification, this is VERY speculative and will get Jossed in the future lmao Summary: After claiming his place in the Light and coming face-to-face with the consequences of his actions, Janus finds himself unwillingly re-calibrating his moral compass. For selfish reasons, of course. But one apology snowballs into several, and soon he's running around the Mindscape with a low-grade fever and a guilty conscience as he desperately tries to regain some sense of self. Oh, and he's definitely not falling in love with Patton, so don't even bring it up. One Last Note: I wrote this in an ADHD fugue state. It is HEAVILY influenced by Dostoyevsky's Crime and Punishment, but there are also references to poetry and various other works of literature. I also deliberately used symbols, themes, and motifs. Most of them are pretty in your face except for the recurring ouroboros, which is used as a symbol of rebirth. ...Told you it was pretentious.

When you wake up to the promise of your dream world comin' true With one less friend to call on, was it someone that I knew? Away you will go sailing in a race among the ruins If you plan to face tomorrow, do it soon

Janus appeared in the Dark side of the Mindscape, elation swelling in his chest. Even the ringing headache and bitter taste in his mouth couldn't hollow the unfamiliar triumph that warmed him to the core. Caught up in his own thoughts, it took a moment for him to register the sight before him: Remus, upside-down on the couch, his brow furrowed and face an alarming shade of purple.

For a moment, Janus stood stock-still as he tried to get his bearings. He must have been more flustered than he'd realized-- He'd been aiming for his bedroom.

But here he was, staring down at Remus, who was definitely going to burst a blood vessel (or several) if he didn't flip over soon.

"That's not horrifying at all," Janus said, thinking it would be rude to dismiss Remus, especially since he had probably been eavesdropping. He had likely heard everything. Everything. Even the ugly parts.

"Do you remember when Thomas read that post about Nutty Putty Cave?" Remus asked in a strained, strangled voice. "That spelunker who died because he got stuck upside-down?"

"No," Janus said, before realizing his mistake. "Yes." He definitely wanted Remus to remind him of the gory details.

"That's what I thought," Remus said with a wicked grin.

Janus sighed through his nose. Remus, though he thrived on attention, seemed content enough to continue his experiment by himself. On the other hand, if Janus didn't bring up a certain insult he'd levied at Roman, Remus most certainly would, and at a time where it would cause the most upset and turmoil. Better for Janus to deal with it now, even if he would have to fight the tension pulling his muscles taut. He wanted to dance. He wanted to scream.

Hesitation proved to be Janus' downfall, and by the time he'd opened his mouth to broach the subject at hand, Remus had beaten him to the blow. "You're not usually this quiet, Oralboros. Snake got your tongue?"

Janus, again, sighed. Rather than answer, he doffed his hat, set it on the coffee table, and clumsily arranged himself upside-down next to Remus. The change in position immediately made his head throb. He ignored it. "I definitely meant it when I called you 'evil'."

Remus' eyes widened in faux-shock. "You called me evil ?" he shrieked, voice ringing out high and clear. "Me? How dare you. I'm an angel!"

At least Remus was taking it well. "Sarcasm is my thing," Janus said, realizing that he might make it out of this without having to properly apologize.

For some reason, Patton's face flashed into his mind, and a subsequent twinge of guilt made his tongue go sour. Fine. If there was ever a time to start telling uncomfortable truths… "But I am sorry I said that."

"Wow!" Remus laughed. "You must be upset." A red stain began to spill across his left eye. "You don't apologize."

"It’s not like I care about your feelings or anything." Janus would have liked to have drawn himself up to his full height, but it was impossible to do while upside-down. "As much as I'm enjoying watching your blood vessels slowly burst, would you please turn over before you hurt yourself? I've suffered enough psychological trauma for today."

"Oh, fine." Remus kicked his legs and landed neatly on his toes like a gymnast.

Janus, by contrast, got his arms tangled in his capelet and nearly folded himself in half before he found his balance again. "I meant to do that," he said, turning to grab his hat so Remus wouldn't see the blush on his face.

The sudden sensation of blood draining from his head made the room whirl. He steadied himself against Remus' shoulder until it slowed somewhat, but nothing could dampen the horrible ringing in his ears.

"Well," he said, adjusting his shirt. The sudden appearance of his conscience had taken the wind out of his sails more than he cared to admit, and all thoughts of dancing bled out of him along with a good deal of energy. "I'm not going to go scream into my pillows until I tire myself out."

"Being an agent of chaos is hard work," Remus said with a sage nod, "but that doesn't sound very relaxing, Mr Self Care."

"It's a form of meditation, if you think about it," Janus said.

Remus made a face. "You know I don't do that."

"...Meditate?"

"No, think."

"Ah. Well." Janus made only a token attempt to hide his fond smile. "Good night, Remus. Please stay up late and injure yourself."

"Can do, Snakeypoo.”

Janus turned. It was close enough, he might as well walk to his bedroom, especially considering how well his last attempt at appearing in it had gone.

The reason why that had been so difficult became apparent in mere moments. Janus froze in the hall and dropped to his knees at the giddy wave of horror and delight that made him too light-headed to stand.

He knelt in front of the empty stretch of wall where his door had been previously.  Heat flooded his face.

"Jay?" The rounded toes of Remus' boots appeared in his line of sight. Janus zeroed in on them, the mud splatters and stains on the soft leather. "You have an aneurysm or what?"

Janus, unable to speak, motioned for Remus to turn around. He couldn't deal with this right now.

"Ohhh," said Remus. "Well. Good luck with that ." He hauled Janus to his feet. "So you're a boner fide good guy now, huh?"

Janus stared over Remus' shoulder at the empty stretch of wall where his door used to be. "That depends entirely on who you ask."

Remus shrugged and rose up on his toes. "You can scream into my pillows instead, if you want."

"As tempting as that is…" Janus trailed off, his eyes still fixed on the wall. It was tempting, despite the constant chaos in Remus' room. But he'd have to face the Light side sooner or later. It wasn't like he could move his room back, not without psychologically damaging Thomas and undoing all the work he'd done. "I'm really looking forward to getting insulted some more."

"Alright," Remus said with a shrug. "Try not to throw me under the bus this time, alright? Unless it's a real bus…" His gaze became dreamy, unfocused. "And it's doing 50 in a school zone and there's a whole pack of screaming kids in the crosswalk--"

"Goodbye, Remus." Janus turned and left.

--

The barrier between the "dark" and the "light" sides of Thomas' brain had been a joint venture. It would have been there in some form no matter what, but it was Janus and Roman (with Patton's tacit blessing) who had worked to put up something more physical between them.

Janus ducked under the red curtain, trepidation percolating in his stomach, but what he found on the other side was anticlimactic to say the least: It was dead silent on this side of the barrier.

Janus wasn't sure what he'd been expecting. He knew by now that the so-called "Lights" had issues working out their interpersonal issues, and this most recent conflict wasn't the kind of thing you just got over. It did follow that they would all go off to lick their wounds for a time.

Hesitantly, toe-to-heel, Janus crept down the hall. It felt for all the world like he was sneaking around a vast hotel, right down to needlessly ornate design on the plush carpeting. That was probably Roman's doing.

Janus focused, trying to call the Mindscape to work for him. He wanted to go to his room.

The Mindscape listened. Janus turned a corner and found a row of doors stretching down yet another brightly-lit corridor. His eye was immediately drawn, not to the brilliant yellow of his own door, but to the figure huddled in front of it: Patton sat with his arms wrapped around his legs, forehead resting on his knees.

"Looking for someone?" Janus asked, slightly louder than necessary.

Patton jerked his head up. "Oh! Janus!" He plastered an unconvincing smile on his face. "You sure pop star-tled me."

Scaring Patton hadn't brought Janus nearly the level of schadenfreude he'd thought it would. He crossed his arms over his chest, extending a third to help Patton up. "Take your time getting to the point.”

"Oh." Patton accepted Janus' proffered hand and got to his feet. Warmth spilled from him, permeating the fabric of Janus' glove and gently heating his palm. "Well, it's just…" He took a deep breath. "I noticed your door and I thought-- Well, I wanted to make you feel welcome!"

A high-pitched tone resonated in Janus' skull. He bit down on the inside of his cheek to keep from wincing at the mounting pressure-pain-exhaustion in his temples. "Aren't you just a saint ." Patton's face fell. Janus fought the urge to swear aloud. He usually had a better handle on himself, and he knew better than to alienate potential allies. "I mean, thank you, Patton. Truly. I appreciate it." Patton had proven himself useful. Janus should at least cultivate that relationship, even if it meant a little discomfort.

"Have you eaten?" Patton asked. "It's a little late, but I could make something if you wanted." He paused. "Maybe we could play cards or something." Another pause. "O-only if you want to, I mean."

Janus let his face remain impassive even as he internally cringed at the idea of staying awake for even another second. It would be so easy to brush Patton off with a few honeyed words and disappear beyond the barrier of his door. But Patton had stood up for him today, or at least he'd tried to. Janus sighed. Quid pro quo. "That sounds like an utter waste of time."

"Are you… I'm sorry, sometimes I can't tell when you're…"

"Yes, Patton. That sounds lovely."

Patton actually hopped in place, an adorable little jig that absolutely didn't send a confusing little shockwave of fondness through Janus' ribcage. "Really?"

"Really," Janus lied.

He followed Patton down the hall into the living room, which opened into the dining room and the kitchen. Janus studied his surroundings, trying to take in as much as his exhausted faculties would allow. Even in the absence of other Sides, the living room felt warm and welcoming. All the lights were on, and they bathed everything in gentle golden light .

"You're awfully quiet," Patton said.

Janus shook himself. "I was just getting my bearings."

"I guess you've never really been over here, huh?" Pattton opened the refrigerator. Was he actually going to cook , instead of just manifesting something? How quaint. "Do you like grilled cheese?"

It had been a long, confusing day. Doublespeak came to Janus as naturally as breathing, but he was obviously running circles around Patton even when he wasn't trying to. "Yes," he said, hoping to telegraph his sincerity by not emoting at all.

It seemed to work. Patton studied him for a moment before turning back to the fridge. "Then that's what I'll make."

Janus took advantage of this temporary distraction to clamber onto one of the barstools. The slick velvet of his capelet tended to disagree with surfaces like wood and vinyl, and he needed a moment to arrange things so he didn't look as unbalanced as he felt.

He watched Patton work in the kitchen, a detached coolness washing out the scene. Quid pro quo, he reminded himself when he felt his facade begin to slip. He owed Patton this.

He certainly didn't feel the slightest twinge of guilt, that he had been the one to orchestrate this breakdown. Yes, the Light Sides had loaded the gun, but in the end it was Janus who had pulled the trigger.

He shook his head and thought about playing cards, good Bicycle playing cards with holes punched through them like they'd come from a casino. "What should we play?" he asked, pulling the deck from his breast pocket.

Patton looked up from the stovetop, his eyes flicking to the cards in Janus' hand. "Do you know Kings in the Corners?"

"Not personally, no."

Patton laughed, but there was something cold about it. "It's really simple," he said. "I'll show you how to play and you can tell me if you like it."

--

It was nearly impossible to cheat at Kings in the Corners. Janus doubted this had been a calculated measure on Patton's part, doubted he had the capacity for that kind of foresight, but he respected it just the same.

They played in funereal silence, staring each other down across the light wood of the dining room table. Janus, ill-inclined to take off his gloves, utilized a napkin to keep from staining them with melted butter from the grilled cheese Patton had made. Neither one of them smiled. Neither one of them spoke.

Janus pulled a card from the deck to indicate the end of his turn and glanced up at Patton. His face was somber, almost sorrowful, and it clashed against the gentle domesticity of the dining room, with its floral table runner and mismatched placemats.

Janus started to laugh.

"What is it?" Patton asked, cheeks darkening. "What? Do I have something on my face?"

Janus swallowed down another peal of laughter and cleared his throat, unable to wholly restrain the smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "You look like I’m holding you here at gunpoint." It was somewhat ironic, considering Janus was the one who felt like he couldn't leave.

"What?" Patton smiled, but it was more akin to an offering than an expression of joy.

"It’s not really funny. " Janus wasn’t quite sure how to make Patton understand.

Patton sat back with a sigh, placing his cards facedown on the table. "But I guess it is pretty funny, huh? In a really sad way."

Janus almost asked what was sad about it before realizing that Patton probably missed his friends. Instead he said, "Yes" and stifled a yawn behind his free hand.

"I'll make coffee!" Patton leapt to his feet and was off to the kitchen before Janus could so much as blink.

The newfound solitude made it that much harder for Janus to ignore his headache, which had only worsened in the hour or so he'd been playing cards with Patton. Despite the nonchalant facade he'd tried so hard to project, he'd been holding himself tense.

Maybe the night (or morning, at this point) would be easier to tolerate if he had, say, a bit of gold rum.

The corner of a flask dug into Janus' hip. He smiled.

"Just how late are you planning on staying up?" he asked Patton when the latter returned holding two mismatched mugs.

"Oh, I don't know," Patton said. Lied. He set a mug down in front of Janus and then resumed his seat, the cards forgotten by his elbow. "I'm… A little scared of what tomorrow will be like."

Janus eased the flask out of his pocket. "Rum?"

"Oh, um," Patton said, staring at the flask. "I don't know…"

Janus raised an eyebrow, working something out. He landed on it a millisecond later: Patton wanted to be convinced. Easy enough. Janus opened the flask and poured what he hoped was a shot into his own mug. It was black, he noticed, except for the yellow snake that wrapped around it, its tail firmly in its own mouth. Ouroboros. "Surely you don't intend to make me drink alone?"

As Janus had expected, Patton buckled the second he was pushed. "I guess not."

It was funny, Janus mused as he carefully tipped rum into Patton's coffee, how lying was only off-limits when Janus suggested it. Hilarious.

But now wasn't the time for bitterness, now was the time to repay the debt he owed Patton. "Cheers," he said, pocketing the flask once more.

"Cheers."

Janus sipped his coffee. "You put milk in this," he observed.

Patton's smile was surprisingly sly. "I know you want me to think you take it black. Virgil did too, at first. I know you ‘Dark Sides’ have an image you like to uphold."

"And how does Virgil take his coffee now?" Janus asked, lifting an eyebrow.

"With Snickers-flavored creamer."

"Well, I do take my coffee black," Janus lied.

Patton's smile never faltered. "We'll see, kid-- Uh, Janus."

"Patton," Janus said, before he could start thinking about the implications of Patton wanting to call him 'kiddo,' "you are planning on sleeping tonight, aren't you?"

"Maybe eventually," Patton said, suddenly unable to look Janus in the eye. "At some point."

"Tomorrow will come whether or not you sleep. It's definitely better to pull an all-nighter and feel like garbage instead of facing everything with a clear head."

"I know." Patton leaned forward so he could rest his head on his hand.

For a moment, Janus was tempted to mirror him. Sitting up straight was becoming quite the chore. "I know how the others love a calm, rational discussion."

"Oh, I wish." Patton's expression turned wistful.

Janus stifled a yawn behind his hand. He had half-expected the coffee to counteract the depressant effect of the alcohol, but all he had to show for the combination was a racing heart.

"I'll be fine out here if you want to go to bed," Patton said. Without seeming to realize he was doing it, he brought his hand to his mouth and bit down on his thumbnail.

It was a tempting offer. A day ago, Janus would have taken it. After all, it wasn't like he cared about Patton outside of professional courtesy. They weren't friends. But guilt nagged at him and wouldn't let him entertain the idea of abandoning Patton for longer than a second.

"That's a remarkable impression of a window," Janus said, waiting for Patton to look confused before elaborating, "I can see right through you."

"You got me." Patton smiled sadly. "That's something I've always admired about you, Janus."

Now it was Janus' turn to be confused. "What?"

"You're so… clever."

Janus narrowed his eyes. "Please do keep trying to change the subject."

"It's just… I don't want to have to lie there and, and think about today and everything I did wrong. I hurt Thomas. I hurt my friends." Patton's eyes were shiny behind his glasses; the unshed tears sparkled in the light when he locked eyes with Janus. "Aren't you going to think about the same thing?"

Anger flared, perhaps prematurely, in Janus' chest. "About what you did wrong today?"

"About what you did wrong," Patton said timidly.

"I," Janus said icily, "didn't do anything wrong." He stared Patton down across the table, jaw set, daring him to push back. Let him lecture and nag, let him prove that he hadn't changed no matter what he said.

But Patton only nodded, his face lined with misery. "Okay," he softly. "I think you're right, Janus. We should go to bed."

Janus thought about how much faster he could get to bed if the table was cleared, and all the dishes and cards vanished in a blink.

"Um, Janus?" Patton said.

"Yes?"

"I don't regret everything that happened today."

"Oh?"

Patton only nodded and sank out.

Janus made a beeline for his own room; better to find his way there on foot rather than risk appearing in the wrong spot.

Once inside, he looked around to ensure nothing was amiss, eyes roving over the dark wood of his bookshelves and desk, his mirrored closet doors, the leather armchairs across from his bed.

Everything was exactly as Janus had left it. He nodded, satisfied, set his hat on the nightstand, and sprawled out of top of the covers without bothering to further undress.

One hazy thought crawled to the surface of his mind before he fell asleep: At least he wouldn't be one of the regrets haunting Patton tonight.

[the-melting-world]

First

~ In which a humble gardener attempts to ignore a brash bard...

Music: “First” by Cold War Kids

Kipling x Calum

Ohhh. They’re just so cute. I couldn’t say no. Based on this amazing piece by Ouiser @vissenta-senadz​💖 Thank you so much for letting me borrow Calum!​

~ 1.2k words

***

“He’s looking at you.”

“He is not.”

“Kip.” Khleo paused in polishing the mug. Then they fixed their dark brown eyes on her. “He’s looking right at you.”

Kipling lifted her glass and groaned into it. She didn’t have to look behind her to know what the patron on the other side of the tavern hall was doing. His name was Calum McPhee and he was probably leaning back in one of the booths, twirling that damn wooden beater and glancing in Kipling’s direction every so often.

Kip put down her drink and sighed. “I just want to write my poems. Is that so much to ask?”

Khleo’s expression grew concerned. “Do I need to tell him to get lost?”

Kipling looked up from her notepad. “No! He’s not doing anything wrong. I just–”

Understanding dawned on the barhand’s face. “Oh. So you like him.”

Heat crept up Kip’s neck. She snatched a glance at the patron. He was still there. Twirling his tipper, sky blue eyes locking with hers. His simple copper necklace glinted under the warm tavern light. He seemed relaxed yet jittery at the same time. As if music was always coursing through him even when he wasn’t actively channeling it before an audience.

“I don’t like him.” The gardener insisted, turning back to her friend. Judging by the look on Khleo’s freckled face, they didn’t believe her one bit. 

“I just know him from around,” Kip huffed. “He plays the drums in a band.”

Khleo picked up another glass to clean, looking away with a knowing smile. 

“Sounds dreamy.”

Kip closed her eyes. “Ugh, Khleo. Just… don’t.”

The barhand gave an airy laugh. “Your little drummer boy is on his way over here.”

The gardener’s syrupy brown eyes opened as wide as they could. “What?”

“I’ll just…” Khleo reached over the bar and gave an affectionate tug on Kip’s ghost lock. “give you two a little privacy.”

The barhand stole away before Kip could beg them to stay. When she realized that she was on her own, she snatched up her notepad before Calum could see. 

The bard anchored himself on the stool next to Kip, his drink already in hand. Whatever it was, it smelled strong.

“Friends with the bartender?”

Kip stole a glance in his direction and went back to nursing her beer. “We’ve got history.”

She didn’t know why she had to put it like that. She wasn’t trying to make him jealous on purpose. Right?

“My name’s Calum. If you’re curious.”

Kip decided she would stop being rude and at least turn a bit in order to see him better.

“I know who you are. I’ve seen your band play a few times.” Something inside Kip fluttered at the way Calum’s eyes widened. “And I’m Kipling by the way.” She hesitated before adding, “Kip if you want.”

Calum’s lithe fingers drummed against the side of his glass. “Kip…” He said it slowly, testing it on his tongue as he would a hard drink. “Hey Kip?” He leaned towards her, his shiny piercings becoming more noticeable. Kip did her best to maintain eye contact instead of staring at the one in his lower lip. 

“You’ve seen me play? Why didn’t you come over and say hello?”

He was close enough now where she could detect scents hanging on him other than the alcohol. Kip picked up on notes of cedar oil – the cleaning kind. It wasn’t an unpleasant smell. Rather, it registered fresh and hearty.

He smokes too, she realized. The sudden image of Calum leaning up against some set equipment with a cigarette at the end of a long rehearsal had Kip’s eyelashes threatening to flutter.

“Why? It’s not like you would remember me,” she said instead, schooling her features into indifference. 

Calum drew back a little, blinking. “I wouldn’t forget–”

Kipling rolled her eyes and stood up. She wasn’t about to bring up what had been bothering her this whole time. The fact that Calum had seen her at one of his shows. He had held her gaze throughout the band’s entire set. Not once had he looked down at his drum or his bodhran tipper. Not once did he pause to move the dark curls that fell into his eyes, whose color made Kipling think of misty hills and open sky.

Forget about his eyes, Kip told herself as she left him at the bar. Clearly after all of that gazing and supposed longing during his performance, Calum couldn’t even bother to remember her…

“Um... is everything okay?” Khleo whispered as Kip breezed by them on her way out.

“I just need some air,” Kipling said without slowing down.

When she made it outside of the Chandrian, she folded her arms. Then she concentrated very hard on trying not to cry when the door suddenly swung open behind her.

“Kip, wait.”

“Go away,” Kip said without turning around. She already knew who had followed her out.

Something steady and swift began beating against a soft surface.

“The bard sold her wedding dress and bought a guitar.”

Kipling paused. She waited to hear more.

“She wrote her lyrics on the wind. So sage and so true.”

The gardener turned around to see Calum holding his bodhran against his chest and drumming up a hypnotic beat.

“Sung them with an earthy lilt. A mystic folk twang.”

The drummer looked at Kipling with the same gaze that he had that day at the concert. Like she was the only person in the audience who mattered. Like she was the only one the song was for.

“Prayed to end all suffering. Through baptism by song.”

The only difference was…

“How foolish of her.”

The words the bard sang were written by Kip.

“How wrong.”

Not Calum.

“How wrong!”

They both knew this was the end of Kip’s poem, which, thanks to Calum, had become a song. Kip noticed that his hands holding his beater and drum were quivering slightly. He set them on one of the benches outside the tavern and rushed to pull something out of his pocket.

“You dropped this at my show. I found it while I was trying to look for you.”

Kip walked up to the bard. She didn’t care about the piece of paper. 

Calum swallowed as she came close enough to shift the palm of her hand against his chest and up to his collarbone. 

“I-I wanted to return it to you, but–”

Kip’s fingers wound around Calum’s copper necklace. She tugged very gently as she leaned in. The gardener was greeted with the taste of bark from the cedar, undercut with whatever cheap tobacco he smoked. The heel of her palm grazed against the hair crowding his lean chest while her other hand floated up to brush against his rough cheek.

Kip pulled back just enough to look into his eyes. “You wrote music to go with my poem?”

Calum’s expression softened. “The beat was born in my head before I even finished reading what you wrote. I picked up the drum, read the poem again and… Kip, I’m sorry, but I couldn’t stop–”

Kipling kissed the drummer again, this time sighing blissfully when he folded his arms around her waist and shared some of that unrelenting, rhythmic energy with her. More than the whiskey she tasted on his lips or feeling the friction in the roughness of his jaw, Kipling felt that drum beating endlessly within.

“No, Calum.” Kip lingered against the smooth metal against his lip. “Don’t ever stop.”

[a-collection-of-villainous-aus]

(

IMPORTANT READ FIRST

This contains sexy times, it's a flash back scene of Hat and Acylius, it's spicy, but I can't promise it's good spicy, there's biting but they're demons it doesn't hurt them like it would humans, tentacles, swearing ect

You read this you're the one who consented to reading it instead of scrolling on by.

I never said I was good at writing this and I haven't read it through it's late at night and I was like damn it I'm gonna write this!)

Acylius leaned forward, down...down until he was eye level with Hat, his ears twitching.

Black hat could feel the warmth of his breath and see the ocean wavering within those blue eyes, what was the Legion demon looking at...well him obviously him but still...

"What are you staring at?"

He snapped, pushing his face away, there was no heart in it, if anything he'd just placed his hand on his face and looked away from his piercing stare, only Legions had eyes like his...hers..theirs, Acylius had declared himself all three, you could gender or not gender him as you saw fit.

Amadeus's cheeks softly tinted in hues of glowing pinks, blues and yellows, a shadow replication of a white lipped pythons shimmer in the burning sun.

Acylius nuzzled into Black Hats palm until it cupped his cheek, smiling as Hat still didnt meet his gaze.

"You're stressed and in heat, I could help you with that, you're not the first of your kind I've taken under my wing."

Hat scowled, dropping his hand

"I see, so you help my kind and play with us like toys?"

Acylius lifted him off the ground, hands under Hats arms, he looked like a disgruntled cat.

"Now Amadeus, that is not what I meant, I help when the help is wanted, you owe me nothing, we have known each other but a few weeks."

Black Hats heart was beating, Acylius could really do with him as he pleased, have him as he pleased...in any other case that might frighten him...anger him, but in this case, in the case of this idiot tree who could smile brightly, full of kindness and at the flick of switch turn darker than a night without moon or stars...

He'd fantasised about him letting out his primal side, chasing him, down the long hallways, with only one intention, he wanted to be the Legions prey and be devoured, consumed with need, completely and utterly.

The fire crackled in the silence

"Do you do not find me desirable, my scent doesn't make you want to claim me...you are either a gentleman or your offer really is an act of a doctor who simply wants to treat their patients."

For one brief moment he was sure, could have sworn he saw Flugs pupil thin, a twitch of his scared mouth wanting to split open into a maw of fangs that could sink into him.

Acylius held him by the collar leaving Hat to splutter as he was walked to what he thought was going to be the door only to be slammed on the wall.

"I see..."

Tentacles bound him to the wall and oh... Acylius's eyes now held only thin slit pupils in white as his mouth split into a grin, sadly no sharp teeth what was...was...

Kisses to his neck and jaw as hands caressed his body, down from the wrists, over his chest, sides, he could feel the finger tips pressing into his flesh, digging into his hips, this wasn't happening, he'd fallen asleep, Acylius wasn't doing this, giving him something he wanted....

Was he?

Softly whining, back arching trying to reach out and touch him but he was pinned, and the rippling growl leaving the Legion, clear that Acylius was pleased with himself as he used a claw to lightly slice open his clothing, parting it with hands that could nearly wrap around his waist.

Hat mewled as claws teased over his flesh, running along scars, shivering at a secondary growl, wondering what had Acylius so excitable until he felt him nuzzling between his thighs, a clear sign of his feelings on the matter.

Acylius's tongue, serpent like trailing up from his waist line, (Think Venom) to hats collar bone, biting softly at his flesh.

"Harder...if you intend to satisfy me... Mmm break the skin..."

He tried to come in contact with him, press his hips to some part of the doctor, he needed the friction.

Hungered, he was starving and the doctor was the only thing he desired, his flushed colours stronger, where scales marked his body, now shimmering, he was straining against his pants and Black Hat was a creature on the verge of madness and need for something.

Acylius obliged gladly to his request and as Hat felt fangs sinking, he wanted nothing more than to grasp him, wind fingers in thick ebony hair and press him closer and still being at Acylius's mercy like this...there was no doubt in his mind that if he asked him to stop he would.

Despite the primal show, he felt safe....for once in his life he felt safe.

He strained at his bonds again, feeling the tip of Flugs tongue lap at his blood, his arms were around him, holding tight and firm, he rolled his hips against the doctors chest, panting

"Damn it whatever you plan to do, do it now!"

Acylius looked at him licking his lips.

Purring

"Ohhh we are bossy..."

Hat had thought his heat scent had no affect on Acylius, contrary it'd been driving him on edge for weeks.

Claws holding their purchase on his hips he dragged him down the wall, the action sudden it took a moment for Hat to realise Acylius had lined their hips and he could.... Damn... Damn oh fuck damn he was proportionate all over wasn't he...

Tentacles forcing his legs around his hips, well when I say forcing, Hat gladly let himself be handled and was absolutely gagging for it.

Hips moved, slow and torturous, Hat bucked, a plea for him to move more.

"Let me feel it...mmmphn I want to feel ever inch of you...like this...savor...I'll give you want you want..."

For a moment in his haze Hat was confused, trying to express some form of speech beside a plethora of growls and whines that displayed just how desperate, how much his needed this and all was clear when something slipped inside his pants, when had they been opened, oh darkness fucking by below he didn't care, looking down he saw Acylius coiling around him, teasing his ridges, over the tip, he nearly came right then and fucking there, the moment his bonds were released he held onto him tightly

"Stop....stop being a bastard...and fuck me."

Amadeus panted, kissing him, his heart swelling as it was reciprocated and Acylius obeyed his command, moving, frotting him, their sensation unified in one coiling want that wound tighter and tighter, Hat was clasping at Flugs hair as Flugs fingers held his hips, firm and bruising in their grip, his body jerked with every thrust, there it was that pure primal instinct, shown at his demand, this want, the way Acylius moved it was more than a helping hand it was that of a beast claiming what was his.

The flame swelled, building and building, clawing at Acylius's back, head back, throat exposed and as any beast would, fangs were buried within the vulnerable spot, Hat loved it wanted it, for his kind it was a claiming mark and he welcomed that want, thrusting back, fucking into the tentacle wrapped around him until he went still and gripped the Legion tightly panting as he spilled his mess, Acylius soon following him.

Sinking to his knees and arms wrapped around Hats body, nuzzling into blood, slowly lapping it up....

"F...feel better?"

He asked, voice hoarse, he was not exactly one to be quiet when in bed or with a bed partner, he liked letting his partner know just how good they made him feel.

Black Hat was distant, spent and dreamy, nodding, completely lost in bliss a final rope of seed splashing over the white of Acylius's shirt, making the Legion smile, oh he really had made him feel good, he couldn't help but take some pride in that...

Stroking his face and kissing his lips softly he whispered

"Sleep my little gremlin...when you wake you'll be clean and cared for."

*******

Hat stared at Acylius leaning against the coffee counter doing a word search waiting for his coffee shop to open.

He sipped his coffee, with goats milk and a dash of hazelnut, how oblivious was the tree, in that moment he would have claimed him as his mate...but...one thing he'd found a reoccurring trait back then Flug had not believed he was loveable...and now in the future where his memory was full of holes, his doctor still believed that he was unlovable... At least unable to be loved by him...

Which was heartbreaking...

Especially when he loved him most of all.