#rye...... snifs you snifs you snifs you snifs you snifs you

[the-valiant-valkyrie]

6 7 13 16 25 33 for the writers ask thing :]

6. What element of writing do you find comes easily?

it's gotta be the prose.... i think anyone who has either roleplayed with me or just bounced concepts back and forth with me knows that sometimes i will just start talking for like. twenty minutes. paragraphs and paragraphs of whatever nonsensical whimsical shit just comes to the top of my head. i love it i fucking love the prose and such. i have no better way of explaining it than this, but it feels like stimming inside of my head to me. it's like the mental equivalent of romping in an endless field. i just keep going and going and going ..... aaough..... 💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

7. What element of writing do you struggle with most?

it's for sure gotta be the dead space in between keystone scenes. i first started writing drabbles and one-shots purely to convey an exact scene down to the minuscule action. but nothing beyond that. there was no context to build because my friends (the only people who ever saw it) knew all there was to know about the context already. there was no dead spaces because i was only honed on one thing. now that i'm actually writing larger pieces with multiple scenes- or feed the roses, which is in itself just. one complete story- it's gotten a lot harder to actually do. other stuff💥

13. First fandom you ever wrote for?

answered over here

16. Any guilty pleasure trope(s)?

it's gotta be the tortures for me. it's where most of my writing origins come from- me in my killing and maiming era as an early middle schooler, and coping with it by tearing fictional characters apart with my bare teeth. i've gotten a lot better at writing a wider variety of things, and i'm not even especially good at writing torture anymore (honestly i don't know if i could have been considered 'good' back then, either). but either reading or writing there's just something about it that gets me hyped up beyond my usual capacity. we love to see some gorgeously written agony.

25. Have you ever daydreamed about side adventures/spin-offs from your fic? Tell us about them!

ALL the time, yeah. the latter half of Caught in a Tunnel was a daydream otherwise unrelated to the initial concept of experimenting with max and wig's fighting styles and how they intertwine when you add their. fucked up personalities into the mix. as aforementioned, i tend to think in specific scenes, so normally if i'm daydreaming about a scene or alternative take to something i already wrote, i've probably found some time to. actually write it, at some point.

i can confess that my most recent ieytd work, Sun on Earth, had me rotating spinoffs/continuations even before i'd finished it. since it was an experiment to see how zor and solaris get along under pressure (or, rather, how they don't get along), and since it was entirely through zor's perspective. i've been considering experimenting with an extension of the catalyst through solaris' perspective. i don't have enough ideas for it to be legitimately considering writing it yet but i do kind of want to.

33. Is there anything you wish your audience knew about your writing or writing process?

i have no clue. i hope everybody thinks i just rub my brain really hard and then words appear on the page honestly. chat check out my sick ass magic trick

[impala-dreamer]

It's Fucking Unprofessional

A Story from The Boys Universe

~ While working as a PA for Vought, Y/N has made one promise to herself: to stay the fuck away from Soldier Boy. Some promises are too easily broken…~

Soldier Boy x F!Reader

2,434 Words

NSFW. Snark. Cursing. Assholery. Fucking. 

For @jacklesversebingo “You couldn’t handle me even if I came with instructions”

JacklesBingo Masterlist

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works

He was terrifying up close. 

It wasn’t just the knowledge that he could rip her apart with a simple flick of his wrist, or shove her so hard she’d splatter against the wall like a bug on a windshield. It was much worse than all that. It was the fact that he was the most handsome man she’d ever seen. His green eyes behind that mask were piercing… the way his muscles pulsed beneath the suit was mesmerizing… the way he walked with that bow-legged swagger was sexy as hell. Being attracted to the epic piece of shit was way more dangerous than the threat of death.  

When Y/N got the job at Vought Studios, she made a promise to her diary and herself. In no way would she get so close to him as to give away the fact that her innocent pussy dripped whenever he was around. She would ignore him entirely. Besides, his behavior was reprehensible. His attitude toward women was disgusting. His ass was so perky and tight and… No. She was going to be strong. She was going to steer clear of all that nonsense.  

Not that he’d ever pay attention to someone like her. The key aspect of her job was to be neither seen nor heard; just a person waiting in the wings to hand off a prop, run and get coffee, and clean up the dressing rooms. It would be easy to stay in the shadows, completely off his radar. 

Soldier Boy was pissed. 

He may have actually been pissed as well as just angry: he stank of rye and stale cigarettes, and fumbled over his lines more than a few times. 

For over an hour, he held the crew hostage while attempting to film his required Anti-Drug PSA. Vought was trying to score some points with the public by helping out D.A.R.E. by pimping out their celebrity supes for commercial spots. Soldier Boy was next in line and very unhappy about it. 

After the twentieth take, he demanded caffeine and production halted until Y/N returned with a styrofoam cup full of black coffee. 

Y/N held her breath and tried to walk away without really looking at him, but Soldier Boy flipped. He sniffed the drink and sneered. 

“Is this hot?” 

Y/N stepped back as he stared into her eyes, daring her to say something. A wave of arousing fear washed over her as he slammed the cup to the floor. It splintered like rotted wood and the hot liquid went everywhere. 

“Iced!” 

She jumped. 

He raged on. 

“Iced coffee!” he screamed. “It’s not hard!” 

Nerves ran down her spine and Y/N moved to grab a rag from the craft table.

“It’s fucking unprofessional!” 

A knot formed in her chest and instead of shying away, she felt a surge of defiance. 

“You’re fucking unprofessional,” she ripped under her breath. 

Soldier Boy’s head cocked to the side. She felt his eyes on the back of her neck, digging in. 

“Excuse me?” 

Y/N turned back with the cleaning rag in hand. “Hmm?” 

His jaw clenched and his upper lip twitched. “The fuck did you say to me?” 

Batting her eyes innocently, Y/N shrugged and bent down to mop up the spill. “I didn’t say anything.” 

His anger followed her down, watching as she dabbed at the floor. Leaning close, he whispered a warning. “I have super hearing, you know.”

Y/N hummed as if she found him boring even though she was screaming inside. “That must be fun for you.” 

Again, his teeth gnashed together and she swore she could feel the air around them grow hotter. A deep growl rumbled in the back of his throat and Y/N met his gaze, unfazed but terrified. He was taken aback by her bravery and somewhat impressed by her attitude.

“You know-”

The director called for attention and Soldier Boy sat back up, getting ready while keeping one eye on the mouthy PA. 

“OK! Let’s run again!”

If he got through two lines in a row, it was shocking. More than once, he stopped just to glare at Y/N. She couldn’t tell if he was contemplating snapping her neck or undressing her with his eyes, so she kept her arms crossed and her expression cool. 

“If taking drugs is uncool,” he mumbled, laughing at himself, “then I’m the most uncool motherfucker on the planet…” 

Some of the crew laughed along, but Y/N sighed heavily and rolled her eyes. “You really are,” she muttered. 

His laugh died away instantly and he threw daggers with his eyes. “Fuck you.” 

Y/N cocked a brow. “Like I’d let you,” she laughed. 

Soldier Boy straightened up, surprised. His annoyance turned to interest and he licked his lips. “Oh, I think you’d let me.” 

She tongued her cheek and popped a hip. “You think?” 

“I know.” 

“Pfft.” Y/N rolled her eyes. “You couldn’t handle me even if I came with instructions.” 

His smile faded and she turned away, giving him a literal cold shoulder. 

The air shifted and her heart stopped when his big hand wrapped around her upper arm, jerking her back a step. 

His lips grazed her ear. “You wanna rethink that last statement, sweetheart?”

Y/N tried to wrench her arm away but his grip was absolute. She spun around to face him and nearly lost her footing. He was impossibly close and regrettably gorgeous. She gasped. 

“Get off me.” 

He blinked slowly and looked her over. He could hear her heart pounding, see the blood rush to her cheeks, smell her arousal. “You’re so… interesting.”

She swallowed hard. “W-What?” 

“Defiant and bitchy, but oh so hot for me.” 

“Fuck you, no I’m not.” Again, she twisted her arm to break free but it was no use. 

His fingers tightened, bruising her flesh. “You are,” he grinned. “I can smell it.” 

“You’re disgusting,” she spat. 

Behind them, the director tried to regain control. 

“Um- let’s uh- if we could just go one more time-” 

Soldier Boy shook his head. “No. We got it.” 

“We really didn’t,” the man pleaded. “I really think we should go again from the top.” 

“No,” he repeated, dragging his eyes down her trembling body. “That’s a wrap!” 

She wasn’t sure if he was carrying her or if they were simply moving too fast for her brain to register her feet on the ground. 

Soldier Boy broke the lock on a random office door and shoved Y/N inside. He flipped on the lights and kicked the door shut as he turned to smirk at her. 

“Now, where were we?” 

Y/N backed away, internally battling her desire and aversion. “I believe I was telling you what a piece of shit you are.” 

He laughed at her daring words. “You’re something else, you know that?”   

She shrugged, playing it cool. “It’s been said.”

“Yeah, but not by me.” With a smug smile, he pulled the mask from his face and ran a hand through his hair. 

Y/N felt her defenses crack. Her vision blurred for a second. “Um… I… really don’t care what you think, actually.” 

He clicked his tongue and took a step closer. “I think you do, actually.” 

Her heart skipped two beats in a row and then struggled to catch up. “Actually, you can fuck off.”  

“Maybe.” Soldier Boy grinned and closed the space between them. “Or…” He reached for her throat and her body tensed. Instead of a death grip, he slipped his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her close. He was gentle, but she could feel the strength pulsing underneath his touch. “I can fuck you.”

She couldn’t think of a protest that would even remotely come off as true but it didn’t matter anyway. Before she could speak, his lips were on her and her mind melted. He slid his tongue between her lips and her breath stopped. He ran his left hand across her tits and her legs went weak. 

When he pulled back, she swayed forward, caught in his pull and utterly on fire for him. 

His laugh was smug. His lips were wet and plump. 

“Knew you couldn’t resist me,” he teased. “But it was a nice try.” 

Every bit of resistance faded into his grin and Y/N dove at him, grabbing a fistful of the fabric collar loose around his throat. He laughed into her hungry kiss and set his hands on her hips. He lifted her as if she weighed no more than a feather, and slammed her down onto the desk like she was simply a toy for his amusement. 

He rocked into her and Y/N moaned loudly. His cock was hard and she reached down, rubbing him through the spandex tights. 

“How- how do these come off?” she whimpered, tugging at his bottoms. 

Another deep kiss blew her mind and Soldier Boy held her chin in two fingers, stretching her throat and setting her face where he wanted. She held the pose while he backed away and stripped for her. Layer after layer of forest green and woody brown fell away and Y/N clenched her thighs tight as more muscle was revealed. 

“Fuck… you’re gorgeous,” she breathed. 

He smirked and spread his feet apart. “I know.” Grabbing his dick, he stroked himself slowly and nodded at her. “Now you.” 

Y/N shivered and hopped down from the desk. Nervously, she tugged at the hem of her oversized periwinkle sweater and yanked it up. 

Soldier Boy sucked his teeth. “No. Slowly.”

She took a breath and started again, this time lifting away the soft polyester slowly and deliberately. Next came her jeans and he hummed in lustful admiration as she tugged the acid-washed denim down her thighs.  

“Very nice.” 

Embolden, Y/N turned and shook her ass for him as she unhooked her bra. 

“Go on…” 

She tossed the garment over her shoulder. 

“Keep going.”

Aching with anticipation, she slid her hands into her panties and inched them down, bending at the hips and showing him everything. 

“Fucking hell…” 

He was on her in a second; big hands tight on her hips, hard cock snug between her thighs. He settled there for a moment, letting her juices drip down onto his throbbing shaft. She leaned back and he scratched his fingers up her sides and scooped her tits into his warm palms.

“Fuck… your hands are so big,” she mewed. 

He jerked his hips and the tip of his cock slid against her clit. 

“Just my hands?” 

Y/N bit her lip and wiggled against him. “Let’s find out.”

He flipped her over like it was nothing and threw her down on the edge of the desk. She spread her legs wide and he set up camp between them. 

“You ready?” he asked, already lining up. 

She nodded breathlessly and arched her back off the desk, begging. “Do it. Please!”

It was almost painful the way he snapped his hips into her. His thick cock spread her apart and her flesh burned at the pull. She bit back a scream when he pressed all the way in; dropped her jaw when he tugged her hips down off the desk. His blunt nails sunk into her soft curves, nearly drawing blood. She held her breath. He thrust his cock deeper inside. She lost her mind. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…” It was all she could say and it amused him like nothing else. 

With a grunt, Soldier Boy lifted her legs high and pushed forward, bending her in half. The new angle pushed him in so deep Y/N thought she could feel his cock tap against the base of her throat. She gagged and her eyes rolled. He laughed and dipped down to lick at her lips. 

“What a good little bitch,” he teased. “Taking my cock so good.” 

She moaned with each hard thrust and her tongue rolled out of her mouth. She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. There was nothing but mindless, pounding pleasure and his bright green eyes. 

He ran his tongue up hers and hummed. “That’s a good idea.” 

In a flash, she was on her knees, swaying side to side as he stroked his cock. His fist was a blur, her eyes were white. 

“Open wide.” 

Y/N dropped her jaw and he slid inside. 

“Suck.” 

Her lips clamped down and she took a deep breath, pulling at his velvety skin. Her tongue undulated against the pulsing vein of his big cock and Soldier Boy fit his giant hand on the back of her head. He held her in place and bucked his hips, jabbing his cock down her throat. She choked on him, moaning in bliss and protest as spit spilled from the corners of her mouth and coated her tits. 

“Fucking perfect,” he grit, throwing his head back and enjoying her desperate whimpers and the tightness of her throat. 

Her eyes began to water and he could hear her lungs screaming for air. He set her free. 

“Fuck!” Y/N wobbled on her weak knees and nearly fell to the floor. 

Soldier Boy caught her quickly and set her back on her feet, bent over on the desk. Her tits smashed against the wood and he kicked her legs apart. 

“You’re one hell of a PA,” he praised. 

Her cunt pulsed as he ran the tip of his cock across its lips. “It’s… my… job…” 

He grinned. “Sure is.” He pushed inside. “Gotta give the talent your full attention.” He slapped her ass hard. “Give them anything they want.” He grabbed the back of her neck and lifted her off of the desk, arching her spine awkwardly. “Isn’t that right?” 

She moaned. “Yes!”

“Correct.” 

He let her go and she fell back down, just a ragdoll for him to fuck to his satisfaction. 

When he was done he slapped her ass, leaving a welt behind as a souvenir. 

“Thanks,” he mumbled, already forgetting about her as he tugged his suit back on and fixed his hair. 

Y/N crumbled to the floor, her legs spread wide, her back against the desk. She sat there for a long while, feeling his palm print burn on her bottom and his cum leak from her cunt. He didn’t look back as he left, didn’t even shut the door. 

Soldier Boy disappeared down the hall and Y/N shook herself, wondering how the hell she’d broken her promise and let him get to her. 

Not that she was mad about it. 

Just sore. 

[blackypanther9]

Over my dead body ! – Father!Alastor x Son!Reader

WARNING!: Mention of drugs, cursing, name calling, Alcohol, mention of attempted murder AND MORE ! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED !!!

A/N: Yay ! Mimzy is back... *Note sarcasm* By the way this happened shortly after Alastor was healthy again. So M/n was still the same age as the last chapter. (Art belongs to rightful owner)

TAGLIST: @l0liamk @dilucragnvindr-my-beloved @moiravim @meg-giry1 @wen01203

Words: 3 321

After Alastor was cured from his sickness and back on the job, he planned to go to Mimzy’s again, for a little conversation and some good old rye. He told M/n about it and he pretended to be happy, but he wasn't thrilled at all.

So he decided to do this for his Father only ONCE and then NEVER again. Mimzy was a Bitch.

At first the night at the Club went by superbly. But as soon as Mimzy wasn’t on stage anymore, she crawled over to him and Alastor.

“Alastor ! Long time no see, sweetheart ! Where have ya been ?!”, she asked happily.

“Oh you know, M/n got poisoned and almost killed last time we were here, so I decided to let a bit of grass grow over it and then I got sick ! Haha ! Where are ya at, these days, Mimzy, Dear ?”, Alastor asked.

M/n put on his fakest smile to please his Papa. He wanted to stab Mimzy.

She started to tell him all about what happened since he stopped coming for a while. Honestly...two years weren’t enough in M/n’s opinion... At some point Mimzy went to get Alastor and M/n a drink. His Papa looked at the boy.

“Remember Cher, what I drink is nothing for you. You are too young for it.”, the Radio Host reminded his Son.

“Yes, Papa. I remember.”

“Good boy.”

It wasn’t long until Mimzy came back, but she looked way too smug and excited as she gave Alastor his drink. M/n knew something was wrong, so he accidentally spilled his own drink.

“Oh no !”, M/n gasped in horror.

Alastor set his drink down quickly, not taking a sip and helped to dry the table. Nothing was left in his glass anymore and M/n gave his Father a pleading look.

“I-I’m sorry Papa. My hand was shaky and I must have lost my grip...”, he said in shame.

“It’s alright, Cher. Don’t worry your little head over it, it happens !”

The Radio Host looked at Mimzy.

“Mimzy, Dear ?”

“Yes, Al ?”

“Can you please get new napkins, while I will order a new drink for M/n ?”

“Of course, suga !”, she said and left.

“Can I have a hot chocolate, Papa ?”, M/n asked softly.

“Of course you can, Dear ! I’ll be right back, don’t leave the table !”

“I won’t.”, M/n promised, crossing his fingers behind his back.

“Good. I’ll be off !”

And with that Alastor was gone too. As soon as they were both out of sight, M/n snatched his Father’s drink and eyed it. He sniffed rye before and had a sip of it once too, thanks to his abusive parents that forced him to indulge in such. As soon as he looked at the rye, it looked off. He knew what Alastor loved for a type of rye and it was the one, sure, but the color looked a bit...off.

The boy looked around in the Club and spotted someone he knew. He got up and rushed over to the table with his Papa’s drink in his hand.

“Cole ! Cole !”, M/n called.

The man turned around and a wide smile split his face.

“M/n ! What are you doing here ?!”, he greeted back.

Cole McGenzy was another nice Coworker in his Father’s Radio Station. He was glad he found a familiar face.

“I’m here with Papa. But I need your help.”

“With what, Kiddo ?”

M/n gave the man Alastor’s drink.

“Some woman brought it to Papa and seemed awfully smug and excited about it for him to drink it. Could you give it a taste and tell me if it might have been a bad glass ? It’s supposed to be Papa’s favorite rye.”

The man chuckled and took the glass.

“Always looking out for Alastor, I see.”

“He decided to look after me when no one else did and I want to return the favor.”, M/n said shyly.

The man ruffled the boy’s hair and took a swig of Alastor’s glass of rye. For a while nothing happened.

“I think it’s fi-....oh Lord...”, the man suddenly grunted.

“Cole ? What’s wrong ?”, M/n asked worried.

“Ah...nothing, Kiddo. The drink was spiked though. Try to keep an eye out for Alastor tonight, yeah ?”

“O-okay. Are you sure you are alright ?”

“I am, kid. Just...go back to your table and keep watch, yeah ? I need to return home now.”

“O-okay...”

Cole got up, covering his crotch and then left, with a few dollars on the table he sat at. M/n returned to his own table, confused and worried. He swiped his Father’s spiked drink from the table, shattering the glass on the floor and acted like he didn’t do it. First Mimzy tried to kill him, now she tried to hurt his Papa...

‘Game on, Bitch...’, M/n thought darkly.

Soon enough Alastor returned with a hot chocolate for M/n. He looked around confused as he saw his drink missing and looked at his Son.

“M/n ? Do you know where my glass of rye went ?”

“Some drunk man swiped it off of the table, it is on the floor with shattered glass. You told me not to move, so I stayed here instead of leaving and looking for you.”, M/n lied swiftly.

Alastor didn’t seem to pick up on it as he nodded with his smile a bit more dim than before. He called over a waitress and asked for a glass of rye again, which she promptly noted down and rushed off to get for him. Mimzy came back, as the waiter was on the run to the bar, with napkins.

“I’m baaaack~!”

‘Please leave again and never come back, Bitch.’, M/n thought sourly.

“Hello and welcome back, Mimzy !”, Alastor greeted her.

She sat down with them again and they continued to talk. Cups of chocolate and glasses of rye later and they finally left the bar, going back home. M/n wanted to tell his Papa about the spiked drink and that it was Mimzy...but he didn’t have the heart to destroy his Papa’s trust like that with someone he knew longer than M/n. So he stayed silent, for now.

“Where did I put my keys ?”, Alastor asked confused the next week on Friday.

He searched high and low for his house keys in his Radio office. M/n looked at his Papa with worry.

“I don’t know, Papa. Maybe you misplaced them ?”

“Perhaps I did... It seems like we won’t be going to Mimzy’s after all tonight.”, Alastor sighed in sadness.

M/n felt bad, but no way in Hell will he ever allow his Father back there.

The next day Alastor planned to go to Mimzy’s again and M/n already knew how to avoid that. They were at the Radio Station and on Saturday’s Alastor only has 5 hours to work, instead of 9 to 12 hours. His work usually started at 6 in the morning and ended 18 o’ clock or even later. Why so long ? Because Alastor was mixed, he came from the Bayou, his previous Boss didn’t like him and the one he had currently wanted him to stay until night so she can try and get into his pants and because he brought a lot of money in. Did they pay him more for the ridiculous long hours ? Barely.

M/n emptied his Father’s left coat pocket, which held his car and house keys. He took them out and then told his Father softly that he was relieving his bladder, which the Radio Host dismissed him for.

Then M/n left and hid the car keys in a supply closet from three, behind a few cleaning supplies and the house keys he placed somewhere on the floor, almost behind a small shoe closet in the hallways, barely possible to be spotted. Then he returned.

-At the end of Alastor’s shift-

“Blazes ! Where are the car keys ?!”, Alastor huffed out in frustration as he continued to search for them.

“I don’t know, Papa. Where did you see them last ?”, M/n asked gently.

“Cher, they were lastly in my coat pocket. In my left one, like always.”

The boy looked at his Father for a while in concern.

“Are you sure they were there last ? Otherwise I am worried that someone stole them.”, M/n said softly.

Alastor growled in frustration.

“Are you sure, you didn’t take them and play me a fool, Son ?”

“I promise, I didn’t touch them, Pa.”, M/n swore.

Alastor couldn’t detect a lie in his Son’s voice either. Usually it wavered in nerves, but not this time... The adult sighed.

“Go to Tony while I am hunting down the keys, Cher. They have to be somewhere.”, the adult muttered, his smile wavering.

“Alright, Pa...”

M/n left and went for his Uncle’s office. He was off air for a while now and probably packed up to leave. Alastor searched for almost 2 hours now and couldn’t find his house and car keys. M/n felt bad, yet at the same time, it was funny.

Soon enough he entered Tony’s office and he spotted Francisco with Peter and Cole in there too. M/n waved gently.

“Apologies, if I interrupted you four... Papa sent me.”, M/n gently said.

“Come on in, Kiddo !”, Tony encouraged.

The boy carefully entered and shut the door.

“What did your Father sent you here for ?”, Peter asked.

“He can’t find his house and car keys so he sent me to Tony to be watched over, until he found them.”

Cole gave M/n a suspicious look.

“You made them disappear, didn’t you, M/n ?”, the man asked after a while.

The boy froze and stared at Cole, while the other three men looked at him in curiosity.

“I did no such thing.”, M/n denied with a wavering voice.

“Liar.”, Peter stated.

“Why would you do that to Alastor, M/n ?”, Tony asked with disappointment in his voice.

M/n looked down in shame.

“I....”, the boy couldn’t get it out.

Cole’s eyes widened as he recalled their last encounter in a speakeasy.

“Is it because of last week ? The spiked drink your Father received ?”, the adult asked.

The other three men snapped their heads to Cole, staring at him in shock.

“What ?!”, Peter yelled in shock.

“Excuse me ?!”, Francisco choked out.

“Mind repeating that ?!”, Tony yelled.

M/n flinched and nodded gently. Cole saw that and had a weird feeling in his gut.

“Do you know who did it ?”, Cole asked.

“Y-yes...”

“Did you tell Alastor ?”

“N-no...”

“Why not ?”, Tony asked now.

“Because that person is one of his friends. He knows them longer and I don’t want to ruin his trust and openness by telling him.”

There was silence for a while.

“You told me it was a woman, who looked way too smug as she gave him his drink.”, Cole pointed out.

“A woman too...”, Tony wheezed out in shock.

“What’s her name ?”, Francisco asked gently.

M/n looked at them and took a deep breath.

“Her name is Mimzy. She owns the speakeasy joint, if that’s true. She performs there as a singer and dancer too. She is pretty short and her voice isn’t all that great, but she is Papa’s friend. She brought him the spiked drink, smugly.”, M/n explained.

“Do you really think it was her then ?”, Peter asked.

“It wouldn’t surprise me.”, M/n replied dryly.

“Why ?”, Tony asked in concern.

The four boys could tell there was something M/n didn’t tell them. He looked at them in slight worry.

“Don’t tell Papa, please.”

“We promise we won’t. Now spill the tea.”, Cole assured.

M/n took a deep breath and then nodded.

“I think Tony remembers when Papa told him that I was once poisoned and by some miracle survived it until the next day and then Dr. Hugo pumped out my stomach, right ?”

The men nodded.

“Who didn’t hear it ? We were all worried sick.”, Francisco stated.

“But that happened two years ago. What does this have to do with anything ?”, Peter asked in confusion.

“Well....I never told Papa that I knew who did it. I met Mimzy for the first time two years ago, as I was 9 years old. She faked to be happy to meet me and we both pretended to get along in front of Papa, but as soon as he left for the bathroom, we both started to hiss at each other. She started it and called me a runt that Papa took in out of pity. I back talked and called her a Bitch. She told me that Papa belonged to her and threatened me that if I don’t disappear out of his life, she will make sure he will get rid of me. I threatened her back and told her that I will tell him everything and I never lied before, so who did she think Papa would believe. Sometime later she brought me my last glass of juice and it tasted different than any other the next day I felt really terrible and told Papa about the drink, he panicked and called Dr. Hugo and he wanted me as fast as possible in the hospital. After they pumped out my stomach I felt very weak, but better. My recovery took a bit, but it was alright.”, M/n shortly explained.

The four men stared at him, gob smacked.

“You should have told him.”, Cole stated darkly.

“I don’t want him to cut everyone off he is close with. He seems very close with Mimzy. Can you imagine, after he cut her off entirely, what will happen to you all ? He might be very distant and dismissive to you all. I don’t want that.”, M/n reasoned.

“He has a point. Al would do that.”, Tony deadpanned.

“We didn’t go there for these two years and last week was the first time in a while.”, M/n said.

“And she tried to pull something on Alastor this time...”, Peter added, getting the image.

M/n nodded.

“That’s why I make his things disappear, or just cause Papa to be unable to attend to the speakeasy. I don’t want this...harlot...to hurt my Father. I would never be able to live with myself !”

The men looked at each other and then nodded and looked back at M/n.

“Then count us in for all your mischief next time. We will help.”, Tony stated.

“Even if we have to go with Al to the speakeasy.”, Francisco added.

“Yo-you guys would ?”, M/n asked in awe.

“Of course we would. We may not be very big on giggle water, but one or two glasses hurt no one. Mostly not with friends.”, Peter told M/n happily.

“Also drinking with Alastor doesn’t sound so bad. And if we keep an eye on him anyways, why not ?”, Cole stated with a smile of his own.

“You guys are the best.”, M/n told them with a big smile.

“For Al, always. This man is such a gem.”, Tony chuckled out.

“Then I need your help today. Help me to keep Papa away from the speakeasy today. If you need help with anything, just get my Father. I am not ready to see Mimzy this soon again.”, M/n said.

“Leave that whole mess to us, Kiddo. Now let us help your Father to find his key sets.”

“The car keys are in the second supply closet in the main hallway, behind a window cleaner spray bottle and the house keys I put on the floor and shoved very close to the big shoe closet. They are hard to spot and almost behind the damn thing.”, M/n informed them.

“Noted. Let’s go boys.”, Cole said and pulled Peter with Francisco out of the office.

“Promise me that you will continue to look out for Alastor, M/n, okay ?”, Tony pleaded gently.

“I will never let my eyes stray from Papa.”, M/n swore.

“Good to hear, Kid.”

Alastor’s coat pockets had holes in them the next week. That just couldn’t do, so he had to go the tailor, who told him the unfortunate news that his favorite coat needed a few hours to be repaired. At least it wasn’t a day.

M/n snipped small holes into the Coat pockets and then pulled some loose threads, making the holes bigger and seem more natural. Alastor barely had his hands in his pockets so he couldn’t tell the difference, he could only suspect that his keys must have been stuck once or twice in his pockets and they caused the holes.

The day after that Alastor couldn’t go to the speakeasy, because Tony needed his help at his own home, to set up a new shelf, because his old one ‘broke’. Tony told M/n that he destroyed his own shelf just to get Alastor to come and help him with a new one.

The next time Alastor wanted to visit Mimzy, his dress pants ripped at the crotch area. M/n pulled some loose threats and it seemed that Alastor really believed that his pants were just a bit too old. Another visit to the tailor and again no Mimzy.

This went on and on for months. The Radio Host barely saw Mimzy. The few times he did see her, or got to the speakeasy was rare and he never came alone. Tony and Peter either came with him, wanting to let off some steam too with him, or Cole and Francisco went with him or M/n went with him or M/n and someone else from the four men went with him or just one of the four men walked with him. Alastor found it a bit suspicious, but he never minded it and brushed it off.

What the adult never noticed, was how the few times he was there, anything that happened on accident, was purely intended. Suddenly Peter spilled his own drink and Alastor rushed off to get some napkins and as soon as he returned Al’s drink was gone. Either it was on the floor, shattered, it fell over or the glass was just empty.

Whenever Tony was with the Radio Host, he had a few nerve problems and could fake them a bit. A shaky hand or a jolting leg was perfect. When he saw Mimzy smirking smugly, he already knew the drink for Alastor was spiked, so he jolted his knee so hard against the table that the drinks spilled over and he apologized each time in shame, mentioning his nerve problem. It was long cured but he never told anyone, he can still fake it well.

Francisco pretended to try and kill a fly, or another small bug he saw, and ‘accidently’ swiped Alastor’s drink over.

And Cole usually was such a savage that he snatched Al’s drink and just gulped it down. Claiming that he wanted to get a raise out of Alastor, which he never got. The adult didn’t even seem annoyed, just amused.

M/n tried everything and anything as soon as he knew the drink was spiked. They let Alastor at least once a month go to Mimzy’s, if they felt generous. There were times they kept him away from the joint for three months.

Over M/n’s dead body will Mimzy ever get a chance to drug his Father. This little Bitch wanted a war ? Now she had it.

Game. Fucking. On.

And M/n seemed to win.

Masterlist HERE !

[max-the-many]

Start here:

'body a day' #19: dad

Took me quite a minute to figure out his adress. Couldn't ask as I was his son. Luckily his phone got face recognition. So an hour later I was on my way out of the city to meet his, or may I say my dad.

He greeted me at the porch as I arrived at a nice little house in the outskirts.

"Almost thought you might skip it!" he chuckled, giving me a hearty half-hug grabbing my shoulders before heading towards a big heap of uncut wood that wouldn't be all of what had to be prepared for the winter. Much time to get to know him while getting to know my new body at the same time, working, sweating, seeing his older version doing just that.

Turned out, he lived alone, beeing one of those weel known, but independent wolfs after his wife left feom one day to the other.

The way he treated me, his son, though, really spoke for a big heart, making me even more horny than in the gym at the same time.

It was pretty late when we finally headed in, going for a nice clunk of golden juice infront of the fireplace.

"Don't you wanna get your stuff in" he wondered.

"My... ah, ehm..."

"You will stay for the weekend as planned, don't you"

"I... sure!" I collected myself "I... damn, totally forget to pack some"

He just laughed it off "Guess it is ur old stuff then. Gonna head for the shower, though. If you wont first"

I didn't. I was just too curious to look around while he was away. When he was, though, my thoughts had another focus. To know, that he was undressing now, getting out of those dorty, sweaty cloth, stepping under the hot shower just got the best of me.

Eventually I gave into it, went up the stairs and ended up infront of the bathroom. The sound of the water, the smell of soap and man oozing out of the slightly opened door... It didn't take long for me to open the door completely, taking in the sight of him behind frosted showerdoors.

"Jacob?"

"Sorry... dad. Cant find any matching clothes. Where did you put 'em" I improvised.

"Didn't move anything" he replied "let me just finish. I'll show you"

I left. That little sneak really got me going, longing for me. His clothes alone, laying on the counter, screaming to be sniffed, to be worn even.

Worn... my mind went for his closet. So I looked around until I found the bedroom. To open the dresser, seeing all that stuff that he wore at some time really was a sight of it own. I almost grabbed some underwear when I saw a basket of dirty ones, going for it at once, fishing out some tighty whities to dive in when I heared the water stopping.

So I rushed back downstairs, chucking the underwear right into my crotch.

"Free to go!" I heared the old one shortly after, so I did, still having a major twitch against that whity if his. At the showers though it wasnt only that. Seeing myself, looking back as his son gave me the rest, sniffing his well-worled pits, injoying his shape under the shower, thinking of his old man while pumping out a major one.

The evening went pretty relaxed, chatting, sitting infront of a nice fire with some nice rye. I couldn't keep myself from reaching down every once in a while, partly out of pure horny, partly out of curiosity on his reaction.

Other than that I broad up some rather particular topics like jerking of. I planely asked if he caught me, as his son, doing it, going further about his own experiences which he answered surprisingly open. My handling though didn't get less at those instances, but he kept chill about it. He never saw his son or crashed into such occations, but as we talked I figured, he would have been totally fine with it. Even as I constantly reached for my crotch now, which he couldn't really ignore, he didn't loose a single word about it.

And I left it like that, injoying my little game, hightened even since I wore the very underwear I took from his dirty bin underneath.

Eventually we went for bed. There I layed, strippee down to just that tighty white brief of the hunk of a dad, laying mere meters away, twitching right there, thinking of him, of me, that dad-son-couple I encountered st the gym, now beeing all in, dying go make a move.

And after slumbering away a little I got up. I just had to, beeing driven over in thar early night, step by step, taken just wearing tjose briefs, eventually Peeking through the bedroom door.

The dad seemed to be asleep as I saw his broad, naked shoulders under the blanked. Quietly I stepped in, slowly, with a pulsing heart, staring at him with tenting groins. I couldn't do otherwise nut getting even closer. He appeared to be deeply asleep.

"Dad?" I whispered. Nothing. So I stepped closer already recognizing the smell from the bathroom if not imagined. My hand reached out like moved by it's own.

Suddenly a twitch!

But i moved on, clearing my throat to further test his state.

When I touched the blanket I felt my heart with every breath, his presence, his warmth. Then I slowly pulled on it. No reaction. Pulling on, bit by bit, revealing his back, inch by inch until... a clean, white waistband got visible. No way. As I pulled further, it got confirmed. He too was only wearing one of those tight, white briefs spanning my hips, moving under heavy twitches from his sons pulsing tool.

I couldn't stop, reaching ever so slowly towards his hairy chest, barely touching it when he suddenly churned, along with deep, sleepy moans. My hand remained. And he remained sleeping, allowing me to fully cup those meety pect, even massaging them the slightest bits while shivers ran theoughout my whole body.

I was so captired by the whole situation that I even didn't realized my hand touching my crotch, massaging it through the aalready damp fabric. His pleasant sighs didn't affect me less. So I continued fondling him, fondling me, getting down over his stomach to his soft but well packed crotch, feeling it while unpacking mine, breathing heavily until I suddenly began to erupt, barely able to contain heavy moans and even heavier grips to his package.

I almost forgot what really was hüpeningat that moment until I snapped concious of it again, a surprised to see that musky man infront of me still asleep with a satisfied smile, my juice spread all over the floor up to his blanket.

To be continued...

[allthebestcowboyshavedaddyissues]

Favorite Seinfeld episodes?

anything past season one (jk.....no but really....)

ALL TIME FAVORITES—IN SEASONAL ORDER:

2.08 The Heart Attack

2.11 The Chinese Restaurant

3.03 The Pen

3.06 The Parking Garage

3.07 The Cafe

3.15 The Suicide ★

3.18 The Limo

3.22 The Keys

4.01-2 The Trip ★

4.04 The Ticket

4.07 The Bubble Boy ★

4.08 The Cheever Letters

4.09 The Opera

4.13 The Pick

4.15 The Visa ★

4.17 The Outing

4.18 The Old Man ★

4.20 The Junior Mint ★

4.23 The Pilot

As you can see season four is dearly loved by me LMFAO

5.03 The Glasses

5.04 The Sniffing Accountant

5.05 The Bris

5.11 The Conversion

5.13 The Dinner Party ★

5.14 The Marine Biologist

5.20 The Fire ★

5.21 The Hamptons

5.22 The Opposite

6.01 The Chaperone

6.02 The Big Salad

6.03 The Pledge Drive

6.07 The Soup

6.18 The Jimmy

6.22 The Face Painter ★

Season 7 episodes 1-7 all FAVORITES

7.11 The Rye ★

7.12 The Caddy

7.14 The Cadillac ★

Season 7 episodes 19-22 bbbbbbangers

8.01 The Foundation

8.03 The Bizarro Jerry

8.04 The Little Kicks ★

8.05 The Package ★

Season 8 episodes 7-11 kill me

8.14 The Van Buren Boys

8.16 The Pothole

8.19 The Yada Yada ★

8.21 The Muffin Tops

8.22 The Summer of George

9.03 The Serenity Now★

9.05 The Junk Mail

9.10 The Strike

Season 9 episodes 11-20 PHENOMENAL 💖

9.22 The Finale IS OUTSTANDING DON'T LET ANYONE SAY DIFFERENT! #LOCKTHEMUP

sorry i went crazy anon.

[twisted-wonderland-shenanigans]

I saw your post about Trey in different AUs and the way Yuu/Grim react to the baked goods sorta - and the fact that you mentioned Kaiju AU reminded me of a buncha bushcraft/survival stuff I've watched online.

Perhaps a Yuu who is well versed in that kinda stuff could at least use those skills and find some kinda grain/wheat to make bread from in the Kaiju AU. Like, cleaning scrap metal to form some kinda metal box/bread tin thingy (I don't know words) and making a dough starter of sorts and seeing if they can make bread or something.

Just food for thought ig lol

Referring to this post here.

Ooooh, that's actually fascinating! Even if Yuu wasn't well versed, MIRA would have access to all sorts of survivalist data videos that can be used to survive! After all, the researchers were effectively stranded on an island far from any possible method of getting supplies, so they would have to learn the basics of producing these sorts of things to sustain so many people.

In fact, I hinted at Yuu learning how to build a survival bed before Sam brought them a mattress (how he got it, though, is a mystery), and they also were figuring out how best to cook the meat that Nevermore/Crowley brought here too!

Honestly, humans are a crazy survivalist species, and seeing how we can even make bread (like hard tac) even out in the wild is amazing! And on an island where most of the stuff that grows on the island (note: MOST) is based closely on or an exact relative of the crops we know of, Yuu would just need to follow the instructions on how to process certain ingredients they need such as sugar or cooking oil or flour!

Hmmm...now I'm thinking that not only would the researchers have a greenhouse somewhere that they can observe isolated species of plant life, but even have their own greenhouse farm to keep certain things available at all times around the clock--including many different types of seeds! So if Yuu were to take some of those seeds (say wheat or rye or oat, etc) and planted them somewhere in Heartslabyul's territory, then they would be able to mimic a similar process to allow Trey to experiment with other foods!

...which only leads to Yuu realizing that these guys are indeed intelligent beyond even anything that the researchers had observed. They are learning... >.>

As for the bread box thing, that's actually quite interesting to consider. 🤔 Though for the Kaiju themselves, I doubt that the bread that's made would last long enough to need a storage box to keep it fresh 😂 And it's not like Grimfang would let Yuu store any for later unless they were hidden inside a satchel (which he'll go sniffing around in anyway), so freshness isn't gonna be much of a problem at this rate 🤣

Thanks for the tip on the survivalist bread stuff, Nonny! I think I'll have to take a look at a few of them and see if I get any ideas in the noodle~ òvó/)

[callunavulgari]

Eddie finds Stevie in the boy’s bathroom. It’s a Monday, which means that he’s still half asleep and reeling from Mr. Donaldson’s delightful first period lecture on The Catcher and the fucking Rye when he stumbles through the doors to the bathroom tucked around the back corner near the band room. Not the good bathroom by the language hall, no— the good bathroom was the one that the cool kids used. The one that Eddie frequents is the one with the ancient wonky toilet that no one ever actually uses because there’s a fifty-fifty chance of the singular working toilet in the room either flushing like normal or of it deciding to fuck you completely and flooding halfway down the hallway.

It’s been Eddie’s designated smoking spot since Rick let him in on the secret halfway through his sophomore year at good ole Hawkins High. Ninety-five percent of the time the room’s an absolute ghost town and if someone does show up it’s usually a fellow stoner looking for somewhere quiet to self-medicate before they’re subjected to the mind numbing horrors of Jeb fucking Houser’s government class a few doors down.

Which is why Eddie’s surprised to swing the doors open on a random Monday in late April and find the room already occupied— not by any of the usual suspects, but by Stevie goddamn Harrington, the queen bee of Hawkins High herself.

For a long moment, Eddie just stares at her like a deer in headlights, his fingers going lax around the cigarette that he’d already shaken loose from the pack. He doesn’t even notice it tumbling to the ground.

She’s sitting on the floor. 

That’s what he keeps getting stuck on. 

She’s just sitting there with her knees splayed out against the grimy tile, her body crumpled back against the far wall like a puppet with its strings cut. Her hair is still big, her nails still perfect, but there had been sniffles when he walked in, loud and ominous in the quiet until she’d clocked him standing there, her head snapping towards him.

Looking at her now… yeah, those are tears. Her dark eyes are big and round and wet, her lashes clumped hopelessly together with even more unshed tears. There are faint tracks down her cheeks where her mascara has run, black smears that skate past her chin.

For a long moment, they both just stare at each other in horrified silence. And then Eddie shifts awkwardly and breaks the stare down, belatedly stooping to scoop up his cigarette.

“Sorry,” he says, gesturing at the cigarette by way of explanation. He jerks the zippo from his pocket and jiggles it in her direction. “I just, uh—” He hesitates, not sure what to say. Should he offer to leave? Leave her to the dubious privacy of the shittiest bathroom in the school and give her back some modicum of her dignity? He thinks that’s probably his best option, to just turn around and get the heck out of dodge, but at the last second, he changes his mind, holding the cigarette out in question. “—you mind?”

Stevie blinks at him, the wet drag of her lashes terribly distracting. He watches them kiss her cheeks as if in slow motion and thinks for a moment, appallingly, of whether they’d feel whisper-soft against the palm of his hand if he touched them, a ghost of a touch like a butterfly’s wings.

Eddie watches in real time as she tries to compose herself, sniffing hard and wiping under her eyes as her spine goes straighter, her knees tucking back together all prim and proper. She bites her lip and for a moment he thinks that she’s going to argue with him, tell him to get out and go find another place to smoke.

Instead, she gives him a slightly watery smile and thrusts a hand out expectantly. “Only if you’ve got one to spare.”

[paintedscales]

FFXIV Write 2023 :: Day 3

Prompt :: You Pick! (Delight) Characters :: Nomin tal Kheeriin, Lorha Keipah Word Count :: 958

FFXIV Write 2023 Master List

A plate of pink cubes of gelatinous sweets, powdered liberally with snow sugar, was placed on the table that Nomin found herself seated at that evening at the Carline Canopy. One of her current companions that had come with her to see to levequests, or various jobs and quests around the city that may have been asked of them, had brought them over after putting them together. Luckily, this companion of Nomin’s was a Keeper of the Moon miqo’te who went by the name of Lorha. Being with her was like having a social shield that prevented people from shooing Nomin away on more than one occasion while they traveled around Gridania.

“Um…what…what exactly are these, Lorha?” Nomin finally asked, staring at the sugared cubes before her. She reached out and grabbed one, feeling it give even under gentle pressure.

“Ala Mhigan delights!” Lorha happily chirped in response. She sat down in the empty chair next to Nomin while waving to a waiter. Once the waiter had arrived, Lorha asked for some tea to accompany their treats.

“Did you get these from Ala Mhigo?” Nomin squished the confection between her fingers a couple times. Part of her was simply mesmerized by how the treat gave and slightly returned to form -- more so was she taken by how the snow sugar separated with cracks. The patterns reminded her of lightning.

“Oh no! I made them myself, actually!” Lorha sounded proud of herself as she reached over and took one of the treats and bit half of it. Her ears had perked up, and her tail curled forward and around her. It seemed that she was enjoying herself well enough.

Lorha then peeked over at Nomin. She noticed the auri still pinching and squishing the cube between her fingers.

“Try one! You said you like sweets, didn’t you? You’ll surely enjoy these!” Lorha urged, popping the other half of the delight into her mouth.

Bringing the cube she held to her nose, Nomin tentatively sniffed the confection. There were fruity hints that she could discern, though there were also some scents there that confused her. The scents that befuddled her were scents she had not once encountered on the Steppe in the past. It made her only somewhat reluctant.

Taking a tiny bite of the corner of the cube, Nomin pushed the sugary substance around in her mouth, allowing it to coat her tongue.

Lemon -- she could taste that for sure. She could swear she also tasted orange, but was not quite sure since she had only sampled a few of them in Limsa Lominsa last time she was there. Everything else was just sweet with a hint of a floral aftertaste. It was delicious, though -- Nomin could certainly see just why the Ala Mhigans would call this a delight.

“It’s delicious!” Nomin said, not too aware how surprised she sounded as she took another bite.

“Isn’t it just?” Lorha grinned and took up another confection. “You know, the origin of the delight isn’t really well known. I don’t even know it.”

“Nothing in Sharlayan that told you?”

“No, unfortunately. Then again, food and how good it tastes isn’t as diligently studied as some may hope.” Lorha took a bite of her new confection before placing a finger to her chin as she slowly chewed and savored the flavor. In her moment of thoughtfulness, she asked: “tell me, have you ever heard of archon loaf?”

“Um…no? What is that exactly?” Nomin put the rest of the delight into her mouth as she awaited an answer.

“Well! I’m glad you asked!” Lorha smiled, but it was not a smile that Nomin found herself feeling as if she were in good company. Lorha had turned to her bag and pulled out a neatly wrapped loaf of bread. It was dark and looked kind of like rye that she saw at the markets at the Shaded Bower. It was sliced and ready to be taken slice-by-slice whenever Lorha deemed necessary, it seemed.

Taking up one of the slices, Lorha used her fingers to break it in half and offer one such half to Nomin. Of course, Nomin was a little uncertain. That smile Lorha had made her feel uncertain. But she tentatively took the half-slice.

It was dense, and the bread did not feel quite…’right’ in her hold. However, Nomin brought the slice to her nose and sniffed. What she smelled almost repelled her. There was a stink of the ocean to it mixed with the earthy, sweet, and bitter scents of a myriad of vegetables.

Nomin definitely did not wish to try it now. However, curiosity compelled her as she nibbled at it.

Almost immediately, Nomin turned and spat whatever she did get back out of her mouth. She scraped her tongue against her teeth, trying to rid herself of the taste before putting the bread down and lunging forward for the tray of delights to snatch up a new one.

“The hells is in that thing?” Nomin asked, stuffing the whole cube into her mouth this time and keeping it there to coat the inside of her mouth with something much more appealing to her sense of taste and smell. Meanwhile, Lorha had been giggling gleefully, all while eating her bit of archon loaf without so much as a grimace.

“Sharlayan scholars have decided this is the best solution to hunger while maintaining their studies -- especially in the fields where aether is so abundantly necessary. If you need a quick boost to replenish your aether, this is your ticket to it,” Lorha replied, not answering the question. “It’s got fish, veggies, flour…your more important food groups that are rich in aether.”

“Ith fial…” Nomin replied, shoving another delight in her mouth.

[ursbearhug]

Wait so homeschooling isn't about hiring teachers with degree to teach your children? What do you mean your average Joe sniffing glue during biology classes is teaching his kid about French revolution, unreliable narrator of Catcher in the Rye and quantum physics?????

I wanna go back to 6th century BCE, this is too much.

[activatingaggro]

I fucking love Shepherd, man.

She is not a character I can use often, for a lot of reasons. Her character summary is essentially: “pre-Imperial warlord who, upon seeing the burgeoning Empire, decided she really liked that, and destroyed her country+devastated its neighbours to ensure that she was on top when the Empire rose. once bombed a horrorterror, and it went very poorly, but she’s willing to try again! very low fuchsia fairly certain that the best way to keep your everyone-below-indigo flock in the pasture is by ensuring they never want to leave the pasture at all. in her 90′s, uses her waraxe as a cane, dumps rock-n-rye into her tea”. Even setting aside the fact the majority of the cast is ~20′s to late ~30′s, her view of personhood starts and ends with fuchsias, and the fact she’s an intolerable bastard to 99% of the people she meets is absolutely a cornerstone of her character.

But she’s a great antagonist for certain situations. The higher you go on the hemospectrum, the more the question presents of - why is your character not just leaving this situation? In a society where violence is not only accepted but largely lauded by the canon, why are they not just murdering their way out of these problems? What is keeping them in a spot that they do not enjoy, interacting with someone that they do not like? And the answer, in this case, is the Carnifex is tyrian, ancient at ~65, and thus thinks nettling his somehow even more ancient ass eugenics-auntie is really fucking funny. And Shepherd is fuchsia, and here to make it everyone else’s problem.. in this case, by using Vadaya as a political pawn to one-up her enemies, and Raphae getting dragged along for the process.

"Pour my drink, boy," Shepherd barks, and for the fourth time today, you bite your fucking tongue.

[...]

Shepherd can, too. She tosses back her rock-and-rye with a loud huff, her fins flipping forward in something that's pretty close to a flare. "Where is he?" she demands, placing a hand on the table to push herself up - then a joint cracks, audibly, and she settles back down. "[The little bastard's late.]" You fucking hate when she switches over to Terquian. "[Must I go and drive him out of the waters myself?]" she demands, and then turns to you.

You're already pouring her next glass. Which is worse, you wonder: Urvata showing up, or Urvata turning this into another mess that you'll have to deal with by fucking hiding?

Raphae’s not having fun.

"<They don't even teach them to wash their fins, Carnifex,>" Shepherd says with a curl of her lip, and for all of your complaints, you're glad your pseudolusus is here right now. "<They're glorified meat shields. The mortar with which out barricades are made. Really, we should be grateful they're bothering to teach them to speak.>" The slow flick of her fins says nothing about gratitude.

[...]

"<We were taught to keep things neat and orderly,>" you drawl, trying not to bare your teeth as you glance at the table. Which was your teacup, and did thye fill it full of tea to sit and cool while they waited? "<So fins were rather like hair- a buzz is best.>" It was no use reminding them that the Corps didn't have to worry about fins, because you were the only one with them.

 Carnifex's response is a half-laugh, brows raising as he looks to Shepherd. "<I see you still have your work cut out for you,>" he tells her as he raises his teacup again. "<On both accounts, really. Does Irrigo have to always be reminded to pour the tea, or does he think Urvata is still his castemate?>"

Vadaya’s not having fun.

Shepherd clicks her tongue, dismissing the comment with a flick of her wrist. "<You're making him uneasy, Carnifex,>" she says, dry. "<I cannot imagine why he might be faltering. Besides, when Urvata is so insistent upon his caste impersonation, how easy it must be for the younger cohorts to forget.>"

"<Am I?>" Carnifex says, the false surprise practically dripping like venom from his fangs as he looks at Raphae. "<I didn't realize he was so soft. Thought that was the sort of thing they worked out of them on those moon camps.>" A quick dig, and in a flash he's sniffing as if Shepherd is the one saying something offensive. "<The boy has eyes. Caste impersonation is rather hard with those fins of his, aren't they? Your little cusp can't even manage an inch of gill arch. As if a seadweller needs to wear their caste to get respect.>"

"<Especially when you tell enough tales about all the respect you got in nothing at all.>" What- oh. Your nose wrinkles just a bit at the insinuation, and at the Carnifex's capriciousness. From aggressive to joking, he's acting more indigo than the actual Indigo at the table.

Carnifex thinks he’s having fun..

But it's not about what they need, is it? It's about what they want, and what Urvata wants, apparently, is a shitshow. Because when he growls, Shepherd..

Oh, of course she fucking laughs again. This is one of the only times you've ever wished you were religious, because if you could say the Messiah's names and get struck down.. well. It'd be a little less stupid than whatever the fuck is going on here. "<You're a violet first, and a psionic second,>" Shepherd informs him. "<Are you growling? Really? And here I thought the Tentus boy would've civilized you more. They're always so good at that. Grounding a troll, and..>"

Is she back on this? "<.. keeping a troll steady,>" she says, and now she sounds like the cat eating the canary. Or - no, ugh, you're not even thinking that, and to make sure that you don't, you start refilling the teacups instead. The Carnifex's cup is exactly a quarter of an inch before he'll start to comment, which is to say, the exact spot that he'll complain about you ruining the warmth of it. But you're not here because they want it to be pleasant. "<Navybloods are just majestic little things, aren't they? Some say that all bluebloods are alike, but it's only when you distill the red from them entirely that you can craft a miracle from the swill of the soil. And the Tentuses - they're just the best of the lot. Serene. Noble. Proud.>"

"<Especially the Tentuses. When Ha'aeho and Carnac were falling to their knees for the Empress ->" Her fins flicker in a smug kind of amusement. "<Well! Domare never bent for her. Did he ever tell you, Pelagi, about how the Edomitus fell under my waraxe? Because by the end of it,>" she says, smug, "<by the end of it, he might well have been renamed Captivus.">

"<Oh, I know how you prefer them in pale, now,>" she sniffs, "<don't make that face. The Tentuses do well in both squares. They're just engaging little things. Urvata can agree, I'm sure - regardless of what they do, they always seem to put in their best.  And they do manage to put in their best.>"

Maybe you do want the Carnifex to kill you.

"<Extraordinary bloodline,>" she says, and takes a long sip of her tea. "<Simply stupendous. And the latest Tentus boy.. he looks just like the Herdsman, doesn't he? Such a sweet little thing!>"

But no one’s having fun here except for Shepherd.

Every time Iconic makes an innuendo, he watches you side-long with this look. Half smug, half worried that whatever his quippy littlr jab was, it might go sailing right over your head. Can you be upset at him if that's so often the case?

Maybe not fairly, but that hasn't stopped you. But maybe... Maybe he had a point about your obliviousness, because you aren't exactly sure what's going on until you're submerged in the filth.

Raphae's face looks almost pinched, as pinched as it can. Carnifex starts off smug, but Shepherd has him flipping to disgust as neatly as if she turned a switch. Oh, he's fine with her beaming praise for navybloods- a new quirk of her's you hadn't realized was there. You hadn't seen that many navybloods in her Program after all, for all her commendations.

"<Maybe don't go talking about your waraxe quite so plainly in front of the pupas,>" Carnifex tells her with distaste, grabbing his cup of tea as soon as Raphae moves the pot away so that he can drain half of it in one gulp. "<Or any other ears close enough to listen. No need to scar another generation with your tales of debauchery.>"

I fucking love Shepherd, man.

[illluminirk]

oh, you see, it's summer

[thesleepy1]

Papa Eskel And His Litter

A/N: @writingmysanity requested a papa witcher fic with Eskel. I didn’t intend for this to be a series but it might be. Who knows lol. This is a sort of fic exchange so I’m super excited. We’re making it fluffy because I’m trying the whole be nice thing out. Tis how one makes friends from what I hear. By the way, this is unbeta’d and not proofread. We die like Vesemir’s sanity after babysitting.

Pairings: Dad!Eskel x Parent!Reader

Summary: For the past couple of weeks, your scent has changed. Eskel knows that it did, he’s just not sure how.

Word count: 3,867

Warnings: pregnancy kink, teasing, suggestive themes, language, threats of spanking,

Part 1

Eskel meditated on a small hillside, the long blades of grass brushing against his side as the wind blew from east to west. His back was to a great, old oak tree and you were to his side dutifully cleaning and polishing his swords. Your hands were skillful as you worked, heartbeat steady as you focused your full attention on the task. The flowers were in bloom and their floral scent almost hid the underlying change in scent on you.

Eskel tried not to make it a habit to sniff you while you were busy but before he realized what he was doing, he was subconsciously leaning into your side. His head laid to rest on your shoulder, eyes closed as he took in your scent. It was still you. The scent of honey and baked rye bread from the morning’s meal, the smell of oats and rosemary infused oil on your skin. But there was also something peculiar. Not bad per say. Just different. It smelt, if Eskel had not known any better, like a swaddled babe.

“Eskel,” you chuckled, distracted from your task, “If you insist on sniffing me, please refrain from tickling my neck as well.” Your hands still, resting Eskel’s swords so as not to hurt anyone as you shifted to better face him. “What has gotten you into such a playful mood?”

Eskel blushed, leaning back and rubbed at his facial scars. He suddenly wanted to hide his face in the side of your body but the bulk of his form was too large to properly hide away. Sometimes he wished he were smaller so he could easily fit onto your lap as you do to him.

“What ails you, my handsome witcher?”

“Nothing serious,” Eskel began, the flush on his face refusing to disappear. “I’ve just noticed that your scent has changed.” When you tilted your head in confusion and not disgust, it was the sweetest thing. Eskel relaxed his shoulders and rested his hand on your thigh in a comforting gesture. “Please correct me if I’m wrong, but you smell like a babe that had just been fed.”

“I haven’t been around any children from as far as I could tell.” You attempted to sniff yourself but all that could gather was that you smelt of Eskel. You wearing his tunic might have something to do with that, but besides the fact, you smelt the same as you always had. Just you and Eskel. “I can take a dip in the river once we get back.”

Eskel tugged on your sleeve as if trying to keep you from leaving. You had made no move to leave the comfort of the shade. And Eskel, having realized what he had done, quickly let go of your tunic. “I apologize.” You brushed him off with a wave of your hand, unoffended and unaffected by his somewhat strange action. “I don’t know what came over me. I-I just knew I didn’t want the scent to leave you.”

You made a teasing, almost knowing face. It was the one of mischievousness that was more common among cats than humans. “It sounds to me that you thought I was pregnant.” A pause as Eskel's face turned as red as his tunic, his expression stoic and forced to be unreadable. “And you liked that thought, didn’t you papa Eskel?”

Eskel hid his face the only way he knew how. He buried his head in his knees and hands, curling up into a ball of embarrassment and heat. What a thought. What a thought! What a dumb and foolish thought. What a stupid, stupid thing to think.

You seemed to think otherwise because the feel of your lips were on the back of Eskel’s neck, hands rubbing gentle circles through his clothes. The definite impression of a grin was at the back of his neck where the spine connected to his head. “Papa Eskel has gotten all fluttered and worked up over just that? Imagine what he'd be like if I really were pregnant?”

“Mercy,” Eskel begged in a faint whisper carried away by the wind. “Mercy please.”

Chuckling, you relented and helped Eskel free himself from the confines of his hands and knees. He sat a bit stiff next to you, perhaps afraid of what you would think of him. You gave him a genuine smile in return. A kiss was pressed to the right of his face, the tip of your tongue darting out to lick at the cleft left by his scars. He was practically forced to soften under your lips and the rest of the day was spent as you had started it. Eskel meditated against a great, old oak and you sat beside him, polishing dutifully away at his swords.

*****

It did not end there. The scent stayed with you despite the number of baths and cleanings you took. Frankly, the smell was stronger after you had just finished cleaning the dirt and grime from your skin. It was going to kill Eskel, not knowing the cause of such a scent. Absolutely kill him. And you were no help, ever the tease.

You were a devil sent to lure him to a hell that apparently smelled of babies and domestic softness. That was the only explanation as to how you made him stop in his tracks just to get another smell of you. Eskel was obsessed and he knew it. You knew it. It had to be some sort of trick but whenever he mentioned the topic you would merely tease him and explain you had no clue. He listened to the sound of your heartbeat like his life depended on it but never once did it falter. You were telling the truth. If you just also happened to enjoy his misery, who was he to stop you?

However, the mystery came to a stop when you both entered an inn also inhabited by one Triss Merigold. Much to Eskel’s relief.

You and Eskel had just arrived in the town and desperately needed to get out of the rain. You were soaked to the bone and Eskel had fared no better. Poor Scorpion had to endure more of the cold than anyone and he was happy to be out of the rain in the stables. After paying for a room for the night, you were both in need of a hot meal.

Triss sat by herself in the adjoining tavern, a piping hot meal and a tankard in front of her. She saw you and Eskel first despite the crowd of locals that had also ran to the tavern to escape the cold. The mage gestured you two over and flagged a barmaid down for two more meals. You were so grateful and sank down onto the seat across from her like an exhausted dog with no manners. As you rung out the water from your tunic, Eskel sat next to you and greeted Triss with a polite smile.

Triss had no qualms about formalities and cut straight to the chase. Her eyes were alight with amazement that neither you nor Eskel understood. “How did you two manage?” she urged you and Eskel, head darting between you two so quickly you were afraid she was going to hurt herself.

“Manage? The storm is not as bad as it seems. We may look awful but we had been out there since the storm began,” you explained, “Eskel and I managed out there just fine. How have you fared since we last saw each other?”

“Quit it with the formalities and tell me how you two did it.” The barmaid had returned with two meals balanced precariously on her hands. She set them both down as carefully as she could but some still spilled over on your lap. She had begun to apologize profusely but Triss merely gave her the coin for the meal and urged for the barmaid to leave. The incident had left you bewildered but Triss continued as if there had been no interruption. “This is a scientific breakthrough! As well a magical breakthrough that some could have only dreamed of. I’ve only heard of it being done twice before and only one of them had survived. The first had been by force and the second was by an accidental potion.”

Eskel, still clueless as to what Triss was referring to, began to sneak some of his meal onto your plate. The table had been served a fatty stew filled with peas and squash. Herbs and chilies drifted in the hot broth. Slices of still steaming bread were laid to the side. There was a warm side dish of potatoes and chicken. Eskel made sure you had extra of everything. “I’m truly sorry but I don’t believe we quite follow.” The witcher made sure you ate some of your meal first before he dug into his own.

“You don’t know?” This was addressed to Eskel who shook his head no as his mouth was full of food. Triss looked upset at the ignorance. She turned to address you with that look of glowing chaos in the eyes. “You’re pregnant.”

Eskel choked on his meal and a perfectly good slice of bread that should have been savored was quickly spat out. Triss pushed her tankard towards Eskel, a look of both sorry and judgment as the witcher took quick gulps to clear his airway. You had gotten up in the fit and stood next to Eskel, hands rubbing his side and back. The poor witcher was as pale as a ghost.

“How could you have possibly not known Eskel? They’re practically drowning in the scent.”

You could not help but let out a chuckle at the mention of your scent. “Oh, believe me, he’s noticed.” A blush coated Eskel’s face that he would have blamed on the ale if questioned. “We just didn’t think it was a baby, all things considered.”

“So you don’t know how you two did it?” You gave Triss a look that Geralt would be proud of. “Well yes, yes, I’m aware of how babies are made. What I meant was how you two managed to conceive a baby considering Eskel’s a witcher and I’m not even sure you had the right parts.” You stood proud at how androgynous you appeared that not even a mage could tell.

You shrugged, a smug look on your face, “I manage.” Triss rolled her eyes as you leaned in close to Eskel, knowing where you were going with this. “We managed just fine, didn’t we papa Eskel?”

“Oh leave it for the bedroom,” Triss groaned, roughly taking her tankard back from where Eskel had been cradling it like a lifeline.

“Why, if I’m pregnant as you say I am. Then we won’t have much time alone in the bedroom, now would we, papa Eskel? I have to make the most of our freedom.” You massaged Eskel’s shoulders as if preparing him for a fight. The fighting witcher hid his face in his arms and laid his head on the table.

“I forgot how insufferable you two could be.”

“Three,” you corrected with a grin and a wink that made Triss smile. She was a close friend and loved your antics despite her words. The mage loved you and Eskel as much as you loved each other.

“Or four, who knows,” she joined in on your teasing, loving the way Eskel tried to fuse himself into the table. “Like I said, I’ve only heard of it done twice before and the first by force at that. The second had used the influence of an accidental potion so it's unclear if it were completely the potion’s doing or the witcher’s. It's so rare that the little information we have is all speculation.” Her face grew gentle and kind. “Merely affection for each other could be the driving force. There was no love or care in the first trial as I’m certain that you two have for each other.”

You nodded at her explanation, smiling and kissing the top of Eskel’s head of hair. “Eskel could have the most potent seed in all of the continent for all we know. There might even be three or more witchers inside of me.”

“Please, I beg of you two,” Eskel moaned into the table, his food long forgotten. “Don’t kill me before I have the chance to see my children.”

“So he does want more than one!” You embraced his back, pressing the weight of your front into him. “Don’t worry papa Eskel. We can always make more if we end up only having one the first time around. Apparently, we have all the time and ability to do so.”

Eskel had gone silent underneath you and you worried for a moment that you had crossed a line. Triss looked on in concern, an apology on the tip of her tongue. “I-I can feel the faint bump of your stomach against my back.”

The three of you had almost been kicked out because of the laugh that you and Triss let out. You two were merciless to the poor, soon to be father.

*****

If Eskel’s scenting you had been bad before, now that he knew that you were truly pregnant it was terrible. His nose was always on you and that meant his stubble as well. You were so ticklish and he wanted revenge for all of the teasing. Eskel was unrelenting.

Your laughter filled the small clearing where you chose to set up camp. It was loud and joyous and probably kept critters away. The cold autumn nights forced you into a tent which was piled with all the furs and bedrolls that Scorpion was comfortable carrying. Eskel would mediate by the opening and keep watch for the night but until then he was preoccupied with getting back at you.

“If only you could smell what I do, you’d understand why I’m so intoxicated.” You smelled of oats and rosemary and the swaddled scent Eskel now had a name to.. Your chest was bare for Eskel’s eyes, the hill of your stomach showing more than when you had last seen Triss Merigold. When you wore your tunics, the front would be extended just enough to leave Eskel staring for hours. When naked, it was clear that if you were not pregnant then you had had a very, very large meal.

Eskel, knowing which of the two you were, was beyond obsessed to say the least. His lips would kiss your stomach, and laughs would be forced from your throat. He would peck at your neck and giggles would be fluttering in the night. What was worse was when he drew his tongue over your sensitive buds and your breaths would be caught conflicted between a moan and a howl.

“I just smell like dirt and monster guts, papa Eskel,” you teased, the nickname a staple for these indulgent nights.

Eskel sucked a dark mark to the side of your ribs, the sensitive skin there leaving you breathless. His hands were a menace as well, always on the small of your back or on your distended abdomen. “You smell like heaven,” Eskel said breathily, rough hands feather light on your skin. “If I were to die now, it would be in bliss. I would lay down my sword to get more of this scent.” Oats and rosemary and a pregnant mate.

“What will you do when I finally lose the scent, hmm?” you asked curiously at your insatiable witcher.

Eskel panted, suddenly breathless. Despite the activities he had just partaken in, this was when he was the most hot and bothered. His skin prickled with sweat, his body heated as his slow heart tried to keep up with him. “I-I-” he stumbled at a loss for words.

You looked at him through your eyelashes, batting your eyes innocently at him. “Would you like to keep me pregnant, papa Eskel?”

“Yes,” he breathed against your mouth, unable to hold himself back as he took your lips in his. “A thousand times yes.” Your hands went to his hair, tugging at him for more and more. “Yes, yes, yes,” he growled between kisses.

*****

One mid winter day, four children stumbled into a courtyard of snow and straw dummies. They walked in the type of row that only children could, there was an unspoken leader and the rest all collectively decided to gang up on them. An old witcher with the most silver hair watched from a balcony as three miniscule bodies piled on a fourth. His heart panged at the sight, a long ago memory resurfacing.

“Give Astrid air, you brats!” he scolded the four scowling wolf pups. Two did as they were told but one refused to let the other up. He was rougher than the others, the deep telltale scar on his chin preluding his personality. “Bastian, let her go before I come down there and hide your bottom!” Vesemir did not tell empty threats. The children knew he kept his words, even if they were violent.

Bastian quickly got up from Astrid, blocking a stray fist that was sent his way as he tried to remove himself from her. He growled at her but she merely snarled back. Although Astrid was the eldest, it was well known that Bastian was the strongest. Or the most reckless depending on how one looked at it.

The boy rubbed at the scar on his chin, lips turned in an irate pout. He looked down at his shoes refusing to look up at the older. “Sorry, Astrid,” he said under his breath. If it were not for Astrid’s heightened senses she would not have been able to hear the apology.

“You must say it louder, lest grandfather hadn’t heard.” The girl with amber eyes and twin plaits down to her waist spoke in an intelligent tone. “You don’t want to be held over his knee, do you?” She had been the first to part from the fight.

“How come you and Demetrius don’t have to say sorry?!” Bastian yelled at the others, digging the heel of his palm into his chin. “That’s not fair.”

Before Bastian could finish whining, the youngest of the four ran to the eldest and wrapped her in a hug. “I’m sorry for piling on you, Astrid.” Despite the threat from the old witcher and the whines of his brother, Demetrius’ words were genuine. His hugs were warm and the faint curl of lips were always upturned in a little smile. No one could stay mad at him for long. How could they when he tried his best not to displease them in the first place?

“You’re forgiven,” Astrid patted the younger’s back, brushing her short, shaggy hair out of her eyes. She gave a pointed look at Bastian and the girl with the twin plaits, knowing how her hair framed her face and made her look frightful. The scratch through her right eye made others shiver in terror at the focused sight. “And what do you two have to say?”

“Sorry,” Bastian grunted, looking at Vesemir for his approval. The elder witcher nodded at the boy having heard his word.

Lastly, three sets of amber eyes turned on the fourth who had started all of this. The one who had insisted on things in the first place. She who had called for the pile and required the apologies. “Why, I, Calwyn, am deeply sorry for having fought with you. Although, I was also the one who held Bastian back so you wouldn’t be harmed.” She batted her eyes innocently towards the others.

“No you didn’t, you liar,” Bastian roared the only way a five year old knew how. “You couldn’t have held me back even if you tried!”

Demetrius stood between the two parties despite his somewhat smaller stature. He held out both hands pleadingly at the two. “Let’s not start anew. Grandfather is still watching. He expects us to one day eventually be old enough to fix our problems without fighting.” The youngest knew how to fight, and how to fight well. But he disliked fighting in any other sense than fun and training. Conflict made his skin crawl. “Everyone said their sorrys. It doesn't matter who started it or who made it worse. Why don’t we all go see if we could go play on the frozen lake?”

“Shut up, Demetrius!” three voices yelled in unison, perhaps the only time they could agree on something. All three swarmed the youngest and soon another fight broke loose. Vesemir had to leap from the balcony before someone lost another chunk of skin or part of an eye. The witcher was getting far too old to still be pulling scrappy pups from biting off each other's ears. Yet here he was, perhaps a half a century later.

“Where are your parents?” Vesemir sighed, holding Bastian and Calwyn by the scruff of their necks. He held Astrid at bay from biting the others with his foot while Demetrius stood off to the side rubbing dirt out of his eyes and trying not to cry.

“They’re making obscene noises at each other,” Bastian groaned as if he had been through this before.

“Da’s reciting poetry again,” Calwyn said with the same amount of enthusiasm. “I bet he’s even written some of his own.”

Even to that, Astrid gagged, the look of pure disgust on her face. With her scarred eye and tongue sticking out, she would have appeared a terror to most. To her grandfather, she looked like a doll. Just as the rest of her siblings did.

“I think it's sort of sweet,” Demetrius piped in, ever the anomaly. “Think of it this way, we might get another sibling out of this.”

Calwyn rolled her eyes, her mock look of innocent nowhere to be seen. “Emery’s enough with her crying and whining at all hours of the night. We have no need for another. Frankly, it would have been enough if only I were born instead of all you lot along with me.”

Vesemir had placed himself in a poor position. He stood in the middle of all four witcherlings, the children of his own boy. If only Eskel had had children one at a time like most folk. But the boy had to be an overachiever, not only with his signs but now with his young. Eskel and his lover had had quadruplets and as if that were not enough, they had another baby years later. If they had another litter, he was making them live in their own keep. Vesemir would not survive another winter with them at the keep.

“How would you lot like to do me a favor?”

Vesemir was met with complete silence as the quadruplets listened intently. They all loved doing favors for Vesemir because most of the time they involved some level of mischief. It was even better than doing tricks for uncle Lambert because the scoldings would be lesser if they had been acting on Vesemir’s will.

“I want you lot to work together and try to prevent your parents from making another one of you stinking wolf pups.”

[insult-2-injury]

Take a Seat-  Chapter 1

After a skirmish up top, your failing shop falls under the watchful gaze of the Eye of Zaun. And his blue-haired gremlin daughter.

Silco x Fem!Reader | Total WC: 34k | Eventual Smut | Slow Burn | Romance | Angst |

AO3 Link

Next chap

"The past is never where you think you left it" -Katherine Anne Porter

The first step into Piltover was always a tad violent on the senses. The sun felt particularly offensive today, its rays clashing furiously with the Undercity smog that battled its way upward, thinning alongside you as the elevator made its ascent, hidden mechanics whirring as you came to a shuddering stop.

You raised your palm to preemptively block out the full brunt of the light as the latticework doors hissed open, proudly revealing the golden child of the two conjoined cities, disgustingly picturesque.

A familiar sense of world weariness nestled into the slopes of your shoulders as you stepped out, squinting toward the towering spires of the new hex gates. You felt out of place here, like a fish out of water. Or, more accurately, a fish who had sprouted two human legs and sauntered its way up and out of the swamp.

You pressed the thin fabric of your scarf to your face as you walked, ghostlike, across the bridge, inhaling a few deep breaths to acclimatize to the change. Even the air here was richer than you.

Loathe to admit, you’d actually taken time on your outfit today, throwing on your favorite dress, a green, watermelon striped piece. You'd even thrown the mirror finger guns before you'd left your place.

But of course, the moment you set foot on the outskirts of the bustling city, you understood why your attempt at fashionable disguise was unfruitful. Because topsiders knew the highly specific likes of their own people, and they could catch onto the stench of a foreign invader in seconds flat.

They sniffed the air like prairie dogs, scattering as politely as they could manage as you strolled through the active marketplace. You couldn’t fault them at all, really- it wasn’t as if a lamb-faced Piltovan could exactly blend in downstairs.

The off-white marble fountain loomed ahead as you turned a corner, wiping the beading sweat off your brows. You were looking around for a place to sit when an orange flash of movement nearby caught your attention.

A young, scrawny boy with shockingly red hair was combing through the food stalls of the farmer’s market nearby. His eyes were glazed over with a kind of hunger that you recognized well enough, the kind that made you impatient.

You recognized him from the Lanes; him and his friends took no small joy in terrorizing the local shopkeepers with ridiculously explicit graffiti. You’d never been able to bring yourself to frown on it, as it was somewhat of a comfort discovering another well-placed, comedically spray-painted pair of boobs hidden around the Lanes. A sign that things hadn’t changed while you weren’t paying attention.

The redhead stood out like a sore thumb in Piltover’s golden-rayed streets. Passersby watched him roving about, wary, as if he was a stumbling, undomesticated dog, growling and foaming at the mouth.

And he did look feral, but in the way that only a fellow child of Zaun could understand.

You slid your satchel onto your hip, heading toward him. You purchased an absurdly expensive loaf of rye and a small block of cheese, having learned long ago that flashing any form of money on the streets of Piltover was one way to put suspicious onlookers at ease, as if adorning yourself in cash made you ethical, less likely to steal.

Oh, thank heavens, they thought, you had money. You weren’t one of those people.

Conversely, if you flashed your coin around the Lanes, you were almost guaranteed to be humbled in a host of different ways if you couldn’t defend yourself. You’d be down cash and your shoes, too, if they looked expensive enough.

“I can spot you a mile away with that hair,” you said, walking toward the kid. “Hope you don’t think you’re being stealthy.”

The kid recognized you, shooting you a glare as you placed the offering beside him. “Least I’m not dressed like some wannabe Piltie.”

You pursed your lips and looked down at your dress. “I deserve that.” Reaching into your satchel that was about a thread away from unraveling entirely, you took out a sheathed knife and placed it into his open palm.

“For the cheese. Or whatever else you’ll use it for. Carving more tits into the walls.”

He examined it closely. “Looks sharp as fuck.”

It took the bothered gaze of multiple passersby to realize that your uncivil discourse had created a ripple of disturbance throughout the peaceful fountain area as a Piltovan child was sullied by their first F-bomb. You, a grown adult, threw another one out for good measure, if only to be on the receiving end of one more glare.

“It is sharp as fuck. What do you think I make, butter knives?”

“Would be more useful right about now.”

It was a brief comfort for both of you, you thought, to find reprieve in the churlish language that only someone from the Undercity could understand. It was the kind of harsh, disrespectful speech that probably simulated something like nails on a chalkboard to a mild-mannered Piltovan. You scanned the fountain area.

“Just wear a hat next time. Cover that hair.”

“Wear some make-up.”

You locked gazes with a familiar face across the way. A warm hand wrapped its fingers around your heart as you abandoned the redhead mid-insult and walked toward your brother.

“Stef,” you said, keeping your voice purposefully flat.

When he spoke your name in return, an aching affection bubbled in your chest, even as you took note of how stale the word sounded falling from his lips. He placed an awkward palm on your shoulder and squeezed, but said nothing else, beckoning you with a tilt of his head. An ancient bitterness ignited in your belly at his lack of affection. He’d never been warm, even when you were kids. You stewed quietly as you fell in step behind him, following him toward the pretentious fountain splashing softly in the heart of the marketplace.

Stefan looked at you with his bright eyes, the same color as yours. His floppy, chestnut hair that he'd started to grow out. His dimpled chin with the scar from when the front wheel had fallen off his bike as you’d both ridden down an unpaved road. He had spared you of any injury, wrapping you in his arms to soften the blow. You blinked away a swell of sadness.

He sat down on the thick, marble lip of the fountain and you perched yourself a safe distance away, criss-crossing your legs and pretending to study your nails, as if being in the presence of your elegantly dressed, Piltovan brother didn’t unsettle you in every possible way.

When you’d been summoned to meet Stefan, you had immediately begun the mental groundwork necessary to keep your emotions subdued. The past could hold no power up top, you promised yourself. Your memories together were nothing but distant drops of water. But they weren’t. They cascaded across your mind like a river carving out a canyon.

“You making knives for kids now?”

Your head turned to where the redhead had ditched the knife in place of his own hands, tearing into the loaf of bread with a vengeance.

“Eh, what’s the worst he could do with it?”

“Plenty.”

Your eye twitched.

“Tell me about the Lanes, anything new?"

Irritation cracked through you like a whip.

“Why not take a little outing? And see it for yourself. Instead of sending some shady Piltie suit.”

You were referring to the lavishly dressed man with impeccable posture that your brother had sent to your door as a physical invitation two nights before. Talk about standing out. You’d be surprised if he hadn’t gotten his ass kicked on the way out of Zaun.

Stefan clenched his jaw and despite your vow to remain unfeeling, you found your voice softening with an old devotion.

“It’s the same, Stef, just more shimmer.”

You brought him up to date on your business, about how recent clientele had boosted your profits exponentially. How because of that you were upgrading the tiny stall you’d rented out in the Boundary Markets. You glossed a bit over just who it was you were selling to. Besides, he was smart enough to figure out that the people who were looking for the kinds of weapons you crafted were probably not looking to use them for soap carving.

Stefan, in turn, updated you. He worked in the council building and shared that they were in the works of planning a celebration for the opening of the hex gates. He hardly responded when you mentioned just how screwed up it was that instead of using a fraction of that money for Undercity reparations, from the devastation topside had wreaked years ago, they were pouring it into an event they were branding the most expensive party of the year.

All in all, it seemed his hierarchy of needs was being met, while you struggled to scrape by. Of course, you weren’t surprised by this in the least.

He sat for a long moment after he finished, clearly mulling something over before running fingers through his hair. “You know, the City of Progress is progressing.”

You arched an eyebrow at his astute observation, biting your tongue. He’d never responded well to teasing.

“And we grow stronger yet.” He saw the way your body stiffened at the word ‘We’. “The Lanes haven’t. Progressed.”

You'd only risen to the surface a handful of times to catch up with him since he'd left the Undercity, but every time you did, you lost further touch with who he was now. He spoke differently, his cadence unnatural, like a child trying to fit into a suit he hadn't quite grown into yet.

“Oh, please do continue.”

He placed his head in his hand, sighing at your barbed words.

"If things were ever to come to a head again, it could get ugly. I just want to make sure..."

"Spit it out."

You knew full well what he was trying to get at. With the rapidly growing wealth disparity, and especially with the opening of the gates, tensions had risen exponentially. And the two cities had certainly not been frictionless before. Aside from that, whatever sort of science was behind the hex gates… well, you could only assume that whatever further experimentations were going on up top came at no benefit to those below.

What he was trying to say was if the Undercity tried to rise again, it would get its shit rocked.

"I'm worried about you."

"I'm fine."

Stefan paused, weighing his next words.

“I know you well enough to know you're probably not associating with the right sorts of people.”

You hummed, unable to form words through the melancholic bitterness that had started to form a nasty, bubbling potion in your stomach, increasing slowly towards a boil.

“I'm afraid that after-" He searched for the right words. "I'm afraid that after... what happened... you’ve become disillusioned. Resentful. I just... I shouldn’t have left you down there so long.” As if you were the last spoonful burning at the bottom of his soup pot, curdling and left to wither. What on Earth did he think you did all day, sit by the door and wait for his return? You stared at him incredulously. “I just don’t want you to be in the crosshairs when we-"

You boiled over.

“I’m sorry, who’s we?”

When Stefan was younger, he’d always had a hero complex and the ego to boot- it was what had pushed away the other children at the orphanage. In a game of make-believe, he'd always had to be the savior, and since no other kids would tolerate his big-headedness, you'd always felt the sisterly obligation to play into his imagination. You'd been a great subject and he'd always stayed true, sheltering you from every storm you would walk willfully into the shadows of.

He had needed you and you had needed him.

So, shooting him off his high horse after all these years felt a little treasonous.

"How’s the council stuff going? You said you, what, water the lobby plants?”

“I’m an administrative assistant."

“That's a fancy word for secretary, Stef. You’re a secretary.” Stefan’s knuckles were white as they gripped the lip of the fountain. “You have a lower security clearance level than a janitor, so keep your mouth shut about the Undercity. At least I provide for the cause.”

You could almost see your brother's head inflating to protect his pride as he bored holes into the cobblestone at his feet. He nodded, as if something had just clicked into place.

“Guess that answers my next question. About whether or not you’ve progressed.”

"And how do you suppose I progress? I'm barely staying afloat as it is-"

"Then let me help you."

"I don't want your help."

"Why, because I'm an evil topsider now?"

"No, because I only accept help from the right sorts of people."

You were being childish, and you knew it full well, but you were burning, the gentle affection you’d felt earlier sprouting thorns that raked down your insides.

Progress. The two of you had entirely different ideas of its definition, you realized. Stefan, he hadn't just moved on, he'd crushed any semblance of his former life in the Undercity. And with that, he'd crushed any realistic idea of who you were.

And you? The past beat in you like a second heart. You cloaked yourself in it, sheltered and basked in its savagery. Looking at your brother with fresh eyes, you thought that perhaps ignorance really was bliss.

"And who's that? Whatever misfit band of criminals walks by next?"

"So, everyone in the Undercity is a criminal now? What about you, you think you're somehow excluded in this?"

"Fine then, stay in the past with your friends."

As if the fountain was suddenly a hot skillet under your touch, you leapt up, hair whipping across your face as a sudden breeze seemed to couple with your wild emotions.

The moment suspended in time, the cruelty of his words beginning to tingle across your scalp, setting in, as if someone had just cracked an egg over your head and the yolk was spilling down your temples.

“You…” Your face contorts.

To his credit, he did have the decency to look a little sorry.

“I just want to protect-"

“Few years too late,” you interrupted, “For that.” You took a step forward. “Hope you can swim.”

With one swift motion, you shoved your brother into the fountain and reveled in the way that he yelped in surprise, hands grabbed wildly at thin air before he toppled over with a satisfying splash. Loud gasps echoed around the open space as he plunged in.                                    

In your head, you’d slain a monster when all you’d realistically done was gather enough courage to push a grown man into a shallow pool. But you took the small victory and ran with it as you watched him struggle to slide his entire body in to be able to stand up.

You jeered at those rushing forward to help. What a scandal.

Your smile dropped as you saw an enforcer among them, charging toward not you, but the redhead at the food stands, who had apparently used the hell out of your small distraction. With how quickly he was foraging through different stalls, he was sure to open his pockets later to an incredibly diverse array of food groups.

“Look out!” You shouted and just like that, you entered yourself as a player in the game. A second enforcer locked eyes with you. Must have been a slow day at work. Or maybe being from the Undercity was cause enough for arrest. Didn’t matter because in a split second, you were running toward the kid, an enforcer hot on your heels.

You may as well have been waving a knife and shouting death threats, the way people dove out of your way as if their very lives were at stake.

“Fucking Run!”

The kid’s eyes were glistening with possibility as he hesitated, wanting more. Needing more. You remembered that cockiness, the way you’d felt invincible when you’d pushed the limits, just barely making it out of a scrape. But as the kid had concerned himself, in his hunger, with the proportion of bread to pocket size, he’d forgotten something crucial: the current ratio of Zaunite to Piltovan.

A bulky shopkeeper lunged and grabbed the boy by the shirt from behind, a comical number of fruits falling out of his pockets as he was yanked forward and grappled.

You growled. Shit. You weren’t about to leave the poor, idiot kid to a mob of topsiders. In the moments it took to cross the 20-foot distance, you weighed your options. Damage to property was most certainly a lesser charge than damage to person, so you targeted the legs of the table instead of the pudgy, veiny legs of the man who held the redhead by the scruff of his neck.

The wooden stilts caved in like toothpicks as you used your momentum to perform a sweeping kick that had the table careening in on itself as you flew past. You spared a glance backward, nearly letting out a whoop at the small burst of adrenaline in your chest when you saw the young boy following in your steps.

Recalling your original purpose, your head whipped over to the fountain and you stumbled slightly. Your brother had always been easy for you to read. It was a sibling thing, sure, but when you were younger, others found his mannerisms odd, cryptic. You'd always been able to navigate his sensitivities, knowing when you’d crossed the delicate line, calming him from his verbal tirades. All because you could just… read him. But in that single second of eye contact, you’d come to a sobering realization that you didn’t know this Stefan, this Piltovan flesh suit of your older brother. And that you actually had no idea where you stood.

You were utter strangers.

The two of you sprinted out of the sunny marketplace and down the stairs, narrowly avoiding attempts of capture by the two enforcers following. It was a bit shameful really, how easily you dodged their flying restraints, like it was a traveling game of Double Dutch.

You should’ve been concerning yourself with the consequences, perhaps. Admonishing the redhead boy who ran a half step behind you for never learning how to shoplift. But you were abnormally quiet. Because your brothers’ golden eyes, blank as a slate, burned behind your own.

The two of you held your gasping breaths until the elevator descended downward, as if a misplaced exhale of air would alert enforcers of your location. The skinny boy was silent, his pride wounded, having been held in the air like a squirming puppy not even five minutes ago. You said nothing, figuring the humiliation was enough.

“Thanks.”

Surprised, you looked over to where he was clearly avoiding eye contact. You muttered, “Don’t mention it.”

He nodded, the movement jostling a single, teetering apple out of his side pants pocket and resolutely, you did not laugh as he bent to pick it up. Instead, you found yourself thinking about the alliterative Piltover headlines the next day. ‘Marketplace Massacre’. Or ‘Terrorist Takeover’. And draw them in with a simple hook: “Have Poor People Gone Too Far?’

The elevator came to a shuddering stop, releasing steam as the doors opened to your city, welcoming in a stench you hadn’t known you’d missed. You inhaled deeply, as if you had been deprived of oxygen your entire time up top.

You settled your face into a steady glare, pulling your scarf tighter around your neck. As jarring as the entrance back into the green glow of the Undercity was, it was vital to not show it on your face. Opportunists stalked, you knew, in the shadows nearby, eyeing those who stepped foot in the city for any chinks in their armor.

You ignored the typical scammers as you walked, those who waited just outside the elevator, ready to sell you ‘the very newest gadgets’ from the City of Progress. It was something you really should fall for only once, and it was dumb even the first time, so the fact that they kept making coin was absolutely mind-boggling.

The redhead took off for home, you assumed, leaving a trail of literal breadcrumbs.

You walked through the heart of the city, figuring you had no reason to worry about heading home. With the harsh changes under Silco’s rule, enforcers hardly ever set foot in the Undercity, only occasionally being spotted around the Last Drop. And well, you could only assume they were pressed under the same thumb.

Besides soothing their wounded prides, Piltover wouldn’t waste resources to go after a young boy who snatched some bread and the likelihood they’d put out a search on a crazed woman who smashed some guy’s fruit stand was slim. They’d shake their fists at the city below as they always did, beefing up security around the marketplace for a short time.

Even so, you were extra aware of your surroundings as you walked back to your home on the outskirts of Zaun, keeping to the shadows.

The routine nightmares were held at bay that night, but only because in their place came the haunting words of your only brother. Curling in on yourself, you drifted into a fitful sleep.

                                  _______________________

You got to work early the following morning, despite feeling exhausted. The hours lost to your brother yesterday had been wasted time, and with your increase in clientele, you actually felt a sense of excitement that had spurred on a surge of creativity.  

You were confident that you’d managed to slide through the cracks as the next day dragged on in your lonely little riverside workshop. You were confident enough that you lost yourself in your work, no longer peering out the windows nervously for prowling enforcers. But it wasn’t an enforcer that had you nearly amputating yourself with a hacksaw as you startled. No, whoever it was quite literally caved your door in with a single knock.

You leapt up, scrambling for your dagger.

“I have a knife!” The intended threat came out more like a general statement and you would have winced if you weren’t so strung out on a sudden adrenaline.

A grunt in response.

You clutched the handle of your weapon and pointed it at the doorway. “Who are you?”

A pause. Then a gruff voice.

“Running errands.”

“For who?”

The man didn’t mince his next words at all, which in any other circumstance, you could appreciate. But at the time, you felt he could’ve done more to soften the blow.

“Silco.”

A bucket of ice water down your back would have been less shocking.

<3 <3 <3

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[bonny-kookoo]

Don't play with your food: Family

In which you slowly start to come out of your shell.

Tags/Warnings: Panther!Jungkook, Bunny!Reader, Human!Owner!Namjoon, Fluff, mentions of past abuse, slight angst, fearful and shy reader, romance

It's been almost two months now, since you've been adopted by Namjoon, and welcomed into his home.

Considering your past, Namjoon is quite astonished at the huge progress you're making; even leaving your shared room with Jungkook nowadays to spend time with him in the living room.

Another major step is how you've come to trust Namjoon, however.

You're standing next to him all alone, Jungkook currently showering, while Namjoon prepares dinner for you both and himself. You're curiously watching what he's doing, attempting to say something here and there- but you can't seem to say what's on your tongue it seems. "Do you want to help me?" He asks softly, and you look up with sparkling ryes, before nodding. "Here-" he starts, putting down a cutting board and playing a smaller knife down onto it. "I'll show you how, and you'll do it yourself then, okay?" He asks, and you nod again, eyes determined and ears in direction of him only. It's adorable, really.

"Here, see? Like this, but maybe even neater.. I'm not that good at it, admittedly." He chuckles, and you instantly shake your head at that, looking at him almost offended.

"No, you're good at this!" You say. "You always cook such nice food for me and Kook.." you say, and he carefully reaches out, making sure not to act too fast before he pets your head right between your two bunny ears. You accept the gesture this time- having shied away from him in the past out of habit- but its getting better, it seems.

"Thank you bunny-" he starts, before jungkook enters the kitchen, eagerly sniffing the air as Namjoon had already put some oil and onions in a pan. He's the polar opposite of you; his tail swaying from side to side, ears curious as he comfortably looks over Namjoons shoulder to look if there's anything to eat yet he could snatch.

"Oh, Bunny!" He happily chimes, now watching you as you carefully cut the vegetable Namjoon had requested you to. "Oh, you're doing good!" He praises, opening the fridge just to have Namjoon shut it with a scolding look. The panther hybrid pouts.

"No snacks before dinner Kook, we agreed on that." He says, and jungkook mumbles something underneath his breath before he sits at the kitchen table instead, head resting on the side on the table, watching you instead. He can't help but grin in amusement at your little bunny tail wiggling around while you concentrate on doing a good job; a lot more comfortable and expressive now. He likes that. You deserve to feel safe, and happy, and loved.

He makes sure of that, after all.

And he eager sets the table while you and Namjoon plate everything; no meat for you, instead some extra vegetables Namjoon had prepared for you. You've told him you could gladly eat meat and that it's no problem; but the hybrid owner had waved you off, determined to keep your diet healthy and balanced, which meant that meat was only in moderation and not regularly.

It's the same with Jungkook; who was a scrawny one when he'd gotten him, but became a lot more strong and healthy due to his care. Namjoon isn't sure why some people like to treat hybrids so badly- but he guesses its just the power play that gives them a feeling of accomplishment, albeit a rather pathetic one.

No, the real accomplishment sat right in front of him, eating dinner with happy faces and healthy bodies.

The real accomplishment was the small family he now had.

Full work can be found under the tag: #Don't play with your food!

[bowiebond]

Across The Dirt Road - Chapter 2

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/39774222/chapters/99579741

Relationships: Eddie Munson/Billy Hargrove, Billy Hargrove & Max Mayfield.

Summary: They found Billy in the Upside Down. Now the dust has cleared and Billy has returned to their small town of Hawkins, ready to finally make things right with his sister. The only concern he hasn’t rolled around his head a million times while in that hellscape is the one where he just can’t seem to figure out what his new neighbor from across the dirt road’s deal was.

CW: Mention of blood & minor gore, nightmares

Billy was going through a box of his things when Susan got home. Max had dug them out from under her bed, sitting beside him and pulling her sleeves over her hands as she picked at her nails. There wasn’t much left. Neil had pocketed a lot of the money from selling furniture before he up and left, leaving them to sell a lot of what was left over to help pay for a new home and food on the table until Susan could earn enough to support them both.

But his denim jacket was still packed at the bottom of the box, along with his favourite Metallic album and his copy of Catcher In The Rye that he stole from his school back in California. His favourite cologne and hair gel was in there too, half empty.

“I read it. After you died. It’s good.” Max nodded to his book.

“I mostly stole it to piss my teacher off. She was a bitch. But I ended up liking it.” He admitted with a shrug, flipping through the pages like a disinterested father was a newspaper.

“Mum never got it. Why I never really visited your grave.” Max thumbed along the tear in her jeans. “But who wants flowers when you’re dead?”

Billy huffed a small laugh.

“Nobody.” He smirked. “I certainly didn’t.”

“I didn’t think you would.” Max shrugged, smiling softly. They both looked up when they heard the front door. Billy stood up straighter, snapping to attention before forcing himself to let go of the air in his lungs. He had no reason to be afraid of Susan. Apprehensive, sure, but not afraid.

“Maxine? Max, I’m sorry I’m late.” Susan moved on swift feet towards her bedroom door and spared only a moment to knock before she opened it. Billy got up from the floor, taking in a deep breath as Max followed his lead.

He didn’t know what he expected. She hadn’t changed much, not really. Her makeup is a little more rushed, hair done a little looser, dark circles just a touch more prominent, but she looks like the Susan he remembered. Fiery hair like Max’s and well dressed.

“...Billy.” Susan breathed, looking upon him with wide blue eyes. She’s frozen, staring upon the young man she assumed dead, and the moment it settles in that he’s there, he’s real, she covered her mouth with her hand and crumbled into herself, sobbing softly and gripping the doorknob to keep herself with falling to her knees in front of her daughter.

“Mom,” Max stepped forward to comfort her mouth but Billy stopped her with a firm hand on her shoulder. She whipped her head around to look at him, but he was looking at Susan.

“Hey Susan.” He greeted softly, coming close to lay a hesitant hand on her shoulder. She sobbed and turned her head away from him, hand to her chest.

“We buried you.” She took in a deep breath, shuddering it out as she turned to look at him. Her hand was shaking as she reached up to touch his cheek, along the three claw marks along his cheek, down to brush the jagged scar on his lip. She pursed her lips, desperate to stop herself for crying harder. “You got hurt again.”

“Yeah.” Billy breathed, offering a tight smile. “I’m okay. Promise.”

“No, you aren’t.” Susan shook her head, mascara diluting down her cheeks. “I let you get hurt again.”

“No. No, this one ain’t on you.” Billy took her hand off his face and placed it back at her side. “Susan, I need you to listen to me. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes.” Susan sniffed and wiped her eyes. “Yes, I can listen, anything you need to say, Billy. You have my full attention, I promise.”

“I need a place to stay, until I can afford my own.” Billy flexed his jaw. He didn’t want to ask her for anything. Didn’t want to admit he needed her assistance, or anyone’s, but he was back in reality now. And real life kept going without you whether or not you liked it. “Can I stay with you and Max until I’m on my feet? The moment I have a job, I am happy to help chip in wherever I can to earn my keep.”

“Oh, Billy.” Despite her tear-stained face, she smiled. “You don’t gotta earn anything. I know you don’t think of me as your mother, but I should have at least tried to be there for you like I was.”

“Don’t-”

“Neil, he’s long gone, but you’re still welcome here, Billy. You will always be Max’s brother in my eyes, and it’s the least I can do after everything I turned a blind eye to in my marriage-”

“Don’t.” Billy bit out. “Apologise. I don’t want it.”

“Billy-”

“You’re right. You aren’t my mom. And you weren’t really a good replacement either. But if you’re gonna stand here and tell me this is also my home just because you’re pitying me, or yourself...Cut the crap.”

“Billy, don’t be an ass.” Max scowled. Billy rolled his eyes.

“I think I’m being a lot nicer than I could be.” Billy turned back to Susan who was blinking wide, hurt eyes at him. “You were protecting yourself. I don’t even blame you for it. He was fucking awful to me, and if he saw fit, he would have done the same to you. I know, because he did it to my mom plenty. I was just an easy target to him, and willing to take a hit for her. I was already broken in, Susan. So I don’t want your apology. I don’t want you to grovel, to try and make yourself feel better, just because he was a shit dad.”

“I could have done more though.” Susan whispered. “I could have, Billy. But I was scared, and you always played it off so easy. Like it barely mattered.”

“I was used to it.” Billy shrugged. “But I was scared too. That he’d move on to someone else if I didn’t take it.”

“You never should have to feel that way...”

“But I did. And I know it was better than taking the chances that he would.”

“You still have a place here, if you want it. We can make room for you, set up your own space...” Susan gestured to the living room outside Max’s room. She sighed and hung her head. “I’ll be honest, I can’t afford another mouth for long. But I will take care of you at whatever cost, Billy, properly this time.”

“I’m not asking you to take care of me, Susan.” Billy took her shoulders in a gentle grip to make her look at him. “I’m an adult now, and I’ve been through a lifetime of bullshit already. A normal job will be a fuckin’ relief to have, and I will pay my dues so when I leave, nobody owes anybody a damn thing.”

Susan looked him in the eyes, rainwater blue against the rocky ocean and her brows furrowed softly.

“Where have you been this past year, Billy?” Billy cracked a sardonic grin.

“Hell and back.”

------

Dinner is a quiet affair. He doesn’t know why he thought it would be different. It’s microwave dinners and a crowded couch, television on. It reminds Billy of when he was younger, the time between Mom leaving and Susan arriving. Except back then he had sat on the floor, picking at his food slowly because his mouth hurt from Neil’s latest ‘lesson’. Overtime he had learnt to eat quicker in fear of Neil snapping at him for being too slow and sending him off to bed without.

Now he was eighteen - though was he really still? His birthday had passed while he was away, he was actually nineteen, huh? - and sitting on the couch, squished next to Max and avoiding her knobbly elbow as Susan sipped a glass of cheap wine with her dinner. The Price Is Right was running on the TV and Billy wasn’t interested in the slightest, but it was better than answering anymore questions.

There was only so much you could say before you start sounding insane, so he kept it vague. He got heavily wounded in the mall fire, barely made it out and got lost. Susan had asked how he got lost, why he didn’t find a road, but he just shrugged and blamed it on his wounds, that he was delirious for most of his wandering. He only got back to Hawkins because he found a bus across the border. It satisfied her for now, even if she didn’t look like she believed him entirely.

She probably would have believed “I didn’t want to come back” more than his near death accident turned adventure in the woods extending a whole year.

Susan was a lightweight at best and excused herself to bed early into the night, saying she had work early the next day.

“She works two jobs.” Max explained to Billy in a whisper. “I feel bad sometimes, that I can’t help her more.”

“Just be a good kid. Focus on your education. Less Mad Max times and more studying.” He reassured her, pulling on her ponytail as he stood and trashing their plates. Max made a noise of disgust, rubbing her head as he grinned. He washed off their cutlery and Susan’s wine glass, barely taking a minute.

“You’re still an asshole, huh?” Max huffed, pulling her hair out of its tie.

“Always, bitch.” Billy dried his hands off with a tee towel and smirked at her. “You’ll get used to it again.”

“Should have left you there.” She scoffed, scratching along her scalp to ease the tension. “I’m heading to bed soon. I know it’s not the most comfortable, but the couch is all yours. I can ask around tomorrow if anyone has a mattress that they wanna toss.”

“I think I can survive a few nights on the couch, kid.” Billy waved it off, sitting down and laying back on it. He was a little too big for it, but if he threw his legs over the end, it was comfortable enough. “You got a spare pillow?”

“You can have one of mine.” Max grabbed it from her bedroom and tossed it to him. He caught it and slotted it behind his head. “Do you need a blanket?”

“Not that cold, this should do.” He made a grab some the shawl over the back of the couch and laid it over his middle. The clothes Eddie had lent him were pretty warm, but his arms were bare so…

“Okay, if you’re sure.” Max stood there a moment, shifting from foot to foot. “Goodnight, Billy.”

“Goodnight, Mad Max.” Billy spared her a small smile and she returned it, still looking a little apprehensive before she turned to her room and closed the door behind her.

Billy got it. She was probably worried he’d disappear again. That his return never happened. He sighed and rolled over, bundling the shawl in his arms and pressed it against the dip of his sternum.

Sleeping on his side had once been a tactic, being ready for Neil to burst through his door, but it had turned into a way to protect himself from monsters of the literal definition. Filling the gap left in his chest from his possessor made it easier to breathe somehow, a comfort he couldn’t explain even to himself.

He turned the light off, the room cloaked in darkness as he laid in it. His pulse spiked. This was familiar. He could never sleep with the light on before and even now he refused to. He wasn’t scared of the dark like a child.

As he closed his eyes, he took a deep breath and hummed softly, curling up tighter to keep away the phantom shivers.

“Freezing…Can’t move at all…”

He drifted off to his own low murmur, a sense of safety wrapped in every low vibration in his throat.

———

Steel. Black. Her. Cold. Hell. Humming.

“It’ll all be over soon.” His hands are strong but clammy around her arms as she struggles.

Steel. Black. Her. Cold. Hell. Humming.

“And then we…are going to end everyone.” She looks so young, so close and scared, and he had grabbed her arm without ever being able to beg her ‘help me. Help me. Help me.’

Steel. Black. Her. Cold. Hell. Humming.

“She was pretty.” She’s sea salt and blue skies, so vivid in his memories, and he agrees wordlessly. She is. And he desperately wants her more than ever.

Steel. Black. Her. Cold. Hell. Humming.

“Hello? Hello?!” He’s back again, where it’s dark and barren, and he remembers his own body growing cold as the pain seeped away into nothing. “I don’t understand…Where are you, you bastard?!” He’s trapped, he’s sure of it. He’s trapped with the shadow and he’s still just as angry as when he died.

Steel. Black. Her. Cold. Hell. Humming.

“I don’t understand…I don’t understand, I don’t deserve this.” It’s become apparent now. He’s in hell. He’s being punished by the devils beasts for every mistake he ever made. “I didn’t mean any of it…Mom, Max, someone, please.”

No one hears his plea. When had they ever?

Steel. Black. Her. Cold. Hell. Humming.

“I don't know how to live trough this hell…” His lips trembled. Burned with the heat of torn flesh and the blood trickling down it. “Woken up, I'm still locked in this shell…” His breath hitched at the guttural growl that echoed above the floorboards, swallowing his own blood to keep praying.

“Frozen soul, frozen down to the core…” He whispered, heart pounding as dust shook down onto his face, a mockery of the freckles that had long ago faded without the sunshine. “Break the ice…” The creaking faded and he curled onto his side beneath the living room that was once familiar to him. He sobbed. “I can't take anymore.”

------

Billy had long ago learnt how to keep quiet after a nightmare. Maybe it’s the hyper-vigilance, but he always wakes before the scream leaves his throat, swallowing it down, down, down until it’s buried and locked up so tight it is forced to stay put. It never really disappears, after all.

It just lays there in the dark for a while, skin slick with sweat and shivering so hard his teeth chatter. He knows it’s not real. It’s halfway through spring, it shouldn’t feel like his bare flesh has been laying in snow for hours.

He let out a shuddering sigh, taking in a deep breath through his nose and wiping his eyes with the collar of his shirt. He forced himself to sit up, to pull himself from that headspace. He hates being aware, too aware, it makes him feel like an idiot when he acts like this.

He ran a hand roughly through his hair and stood, wrapping the shawl around his shoulders. He needed air. At the old house, he would have stuck his head out of his window and let it cool the sweat along his temples. The window above the couch doesn’t open though, clearly for display. So he shuffles to the front door and opens it as quietly as he possibly again, an ingrained habit.

The air outside isn’t cold, but it isn’t warm either. It’s fresh, and that’s all Billy can ask for right now. He sat on the steps with a soft creak, pushing the hair from his face. Even after a year without, he was craving a cigarette. He would kill for a pack of Reds right now. He didn’t even care what brand, he just needed his tongue tingle and his lungs to actually open up enough to breathe.

Cigarettes had made it easier to breath when his chest got tight, even if every stick only killed him a little more.

Billy jumped when he heard a creak in the distance, mind jumping to possibility of those creatures finding a way back to him, but he quickly shook away the thought when he caught a glimpse of a figure across the dirt road between their trailers.

With a thick leather jacket and shaggy black hair, it was easy to guess who it was. Billy scowled, not wanting to be interrupted from his shitty mood, but Eddie didn’t seem to be out here to bug him. No, Eddie looked frazzled enough himself, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and placing one between his lips. He looked like he was trying and failing to get his lighter to work, throwing it with a hissed, “Fucking Christ!”

He did the same to his unlit cigarette, stomping it under his sneaker and kicking up dirt before seemingly losing all the previous anger in one fell swoop, shoulders drooping. He plopped back onto his ass, elbows on his knees as he hung his head.

“Well, that was kind of pathetic.” Billy doesn’t know what urges him to even walk over, to say it, but it feels like normalcy to antagonize someone. At his core, he had always liked annoying people just a little. It was amusing to see people get worked up. But threatening, hurting them like he used to? It had lost it’s thrill after graduation. Back in high school, he usually felt like shit afterwards, but it felt satisfying to win a fight, so he kept starting them.

Eddie whipped his head up, brows furrowed before he scowled.

“Yeah, well you look like a fuckin’ grandma.” Billy blinked at the insult, realising he was still wearing the shawl.

“I don’t exactly have a collection of shit to chose from right now.” He drawled. Eddie rolled his eyes and rested his head back on his arms.

“Just let me be pathetic alone, man.” Billy crossed his arms and watched the man for a long moment. Eddie wasn’t sparing him a lick of attention. His self pitying silhouette pissed Billy off. He huffed and looked down at the ground. He noticed the crushed cigarette buried in the dirt and gritted his teeth.

“You got a cig I can bum?” He asked, playing his reluctant request off with a neutral tone.

“What?” Eddie finally looked back up at him, face pinched in disgust. “Dude, you have awful people skills. And that’s coming from me.”

“I’ve been stuck in that nightmare hell hole for the past year, sorry if I forget my manners, fuck-knuckle.” Billy wiggled his tongue along his lower lip, a small bubble of irritation in his gut. Catching the scar thrice, he gave a falsely humored chuckle. “You got one, or no?”

Eddie stared at him a long moment, obviously unimpressed before rolling his eyes and fishing out his pack. Marlboro Blues. He propped one up for him to take and Billy allowed it to rest in the right corner of his mouth, kicking up the dirt a little before crouching and snatching Eddie’s abandoned lighter. He flicked it a few times and scoffed.

“Your lighters shit.”

“I lost mine on the boat, man, and my pack got soaked when I jumped in after those idiots. The first thing I wanted when I got back was a fucking cigarette and I was only carrying loose change.” Eddie reached out and took it from his fingers. “Come closer, you prick.” Eddie looked tired more than angry, and Billy chanced leaning in even if he got smacked.

Eddie flicked it a few times, hands steadier than previously. He cupped his hand around the end to negate the cool breeze. After a tense moment, it finally lit up and Billy breathed in gratefully, closing his eyes and letting the smoke escape his nose. God, he missed this. There was comfort in the old habit.

“See? Does the job just fine.” Eddie pulled his own cigarette out for the second time this night and lit it without an outburst. Billy chuckled around his stick, pulling it from his lips to blow out a thick cloud of smoke.

“You ain’t half bad, Eds.” He decided. Maybe it was just the rush of nicotine taking the edge off his crabby mood, but if this guy is willing to spare him a smoke, he’s decent enough to sit with. Which Billy does, leaning up against the wall besides the man.

“Eds?” Eddie quirked a brow. “I didn’t know we were that familiar, Bills.”

“God, nicknames only work when I give ‘em, Bon Jovi.” Billy cringed.

“Okay, whatever you say, William.”

“I’ll put this out on you, asshole.” He threatened with the hot tip of his cigarette. Eddie put his hands up in surrender, taking another drag. They delved into a comfortable silence, Billy’s shivers having subsided completely. It actually felt a bit warm now. It was nice.

“So, you were the King after Harrington, right?” Eddie asked, staring up and out into the night sky, looking a little confused. Like he wanted clarification instead of just making conversation.

“Yeah, you could say so.”

“You didn’t really bother us freaks during that time, so I wasn’t sure. I mean, even Harrington gave us a few choice words back in the day, you know?” Eddie frowned. “He’s a pretty good dude now though. Can’t deny that.”

“Yeah. He’s always been pretty soft.” Billy scoffed.

“Hey, he took care of your sister, man. Show a little respect. He’s a badass; Like Ozzy.” Eddie tutted and Billy felt a sprinkle of heat in his ears. He didn’t want to be reminded that he had been a shit brother, so much so that she had to find another figure to take his place and that it had been Harrington of all people.

“He ain’t even close to Osbourne.” He muttered, burning through a third of his cigarette with one deep breath. He blew it out, heavy and fast. “So, your friend died. Is that how you got wrapped up in this shit?”

“She wasn’t my friend...I mean, we could have been, maybe, but we barely knew each other when she...died.” Eddie’s eyes were fixated on the dirt between his feet, thumb tapping the bud of his stick rhythmically.

“That fucking sucks.” Because it was. What else could Billy say?

“Yeah. It does.” Eddie finished off his smoke and crushed it under his heel. “She didn’t deserve that. I just wish I had been able to do something instead of just...standing there.”

“No point in wishing.” Billy flicked his bud, watching it become nothing in the distance. “It’s done. She’s dead. And you’re still here.” He turned his head to Eddie and froze when he noticed tears in his eyes. Shit, he wasn’t made for this kind of stuff, comforting people. He could barely handle his own fucking tears.

Hesitantly, he reached out a hand and awkwardly patted Eddie’s back. Like a trigger, the waterfall came flowing out, Eddie burying his face in his arms and curling into himself with an ugly sob. Billy held back a wince and kept rubbing his back. He had no words of wisdom for him. She died, and that was it. He had died and well...he had come crawling back from hell with enough scars to make a novel out of. He doubted a miracle like that happened more than once, even if he had been the least deserving of that ‘blessing’.

“Shit, I’m sorry, man.” Eddie sniffed loudly and Billy tried not to gag at the sound of snot. “I’ve just been trying to process everything that happened and its - god, it’s a lot.”

“You believed monsters were fairy tales until a week or so ago. I’m not surprised you’re a fucking wreck.” Billy took his hand back and sucked on his teeth loudly. “At least you’re alive.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure the moment the police tells the world I’m back, this town will be gunning for me again.” Eddie laughed bitterly. “I may be innocent, but I’m still a freak who used occult magic to kill Patrick.”

“People really believe you’re a devil worshiper?” Billy scoffed in disbelief, almost laughing. This guy, sure he had the look, but he even softer than Steve Harrington, that he was sure of.

“Yeah, it was a whole thing. Police only let me go because Hopper is back and blamed it on Russians.” Eddie snorted. “Jason and his friends won’t believe that statement, but it might get everyone else off my back. People will be glad to blame it on evil foreigners rather than devil magic.” He wiped his wet eyes with his thumb and then the back of his hand, sniffling one more time.

“I wonder how they’ll explain my return. They gave me a funeral, probably identified my body...” Billy shrugged. “Not like I can’t just up and leave if I really wanted to. This town is a shit hole anyway.”

“Then why are you still here?” Eddie lolled his head his way, looking at him with big, imploring dark eyes.

“...I have some shit to take care of first. Before I can leave.”

“Fixing all your past regrets, huh?” Eddie seemed amused by this. “Second chance to make things right. Like a tormented soul that needs to pass onto the other side.”

“Hit the nail on the head, Eds.” Billy mused, splaying his legs out lazily.

“Well, when you have made things right...” Eddie licked his lips and tongued his upper lip for just a moment before turning his head forward to the dirt road. “...And you take that road outta here,” He pointed out to it and dragged it off into the direction of the gate out of view. “Where will you go, Emeric?”

“Fuck off.” Billy huffed a laugh, tonguing his cheek as he thought. “...California. Back home.”

“California, huh? Bet it’s awesome there. Big city, lots of beaches, sunshine - and I bet the chicks are hot too.” Eddie grinned. Billy chuckled.

“Oh yeah. The hottest...” He was itching another cigarette. He’d have to see about getting work real soon because he didn’t want to keep bumming off others.

They delved into a soft quiet again, Eddie’s eyes up towards the sky as Billy stared at his new home across the road. Looking into the pitch black window, he felt uneasy. He knew he’d have to return to bed soon, that he had to sleep to function enough to deal with everyone’s shock when he went out to town. Didn’t mean he wanted to.

“What was it like?” Billy was startled from his thoughts by Eddie’s voice, turning to look at him. He was still staring at the stars.

“What was what like?”

“The Upside Down.”

“That’s such a dumb name for it.” Billy rolled his eyes. “It’s Hell. Simple as that. I died and I went to hell.”

“Come on, man, don’t you think hell would have more fire?” Eddie made a vague gesture with both hands of flames.

“No. Hell is cold. That I assure you.” Billy glared at the open space before them.

“How did you even survive that long down there? I barely survived a few short trips.” Eddie blew out a heavy breath.

“I’ll tell you for another cigarette.” Billy smirked and Eddie met his eyes. There was glint of mischief in those ocean eyes and Eddie gave into them with a small grin, passing him another smoke.

“You’ll bleed me dry, man.”

“You want answers, you pay for them. I don’t do anything for free, handsome.” Billy plucked the lighter from his fingers with a salacious wink and Eddie barked a short, surprised laugh.

“Is that how you wrapped every lady in Hawkins around your fingers? You’re worse than Harrington back in freshman year, I swear.” Eddie shook his head in disbelief, knocking it lightly against the trailer.

“Oh no, I’m better. I actually satisfied them.” Billy grinned. Eddie slapped his knee with a laugh, covering his mouth when he realised he could wake the neighbours.

“Oh Christ, don’t tell him that.”

“I will. I will, and I’ll kick his ass this time ‘round.” Billy lit his cigarette with a smokey laugh, a soft wheeze hidden beneath the smoothness of it.

“Okay, I want to know, but I’m going to let it go because you still haven’t answered my original question. How’d you do it, Hargrove?”

“Fuck, man, just call me Billy. Hargrove is a dead man’s name and I’m shedding it like a snake.” He took a deep breath and blew it out of his nose like a dragon. Eddie gave a goofy little grin, nodding.

“Nice. I get it, man. That’s metal as hell.”

“Fuck yeah it is.” Billy grinned. He felt weirdly not-shit right now, so he could play friends with this guy. Billy’s never been good at keeping actual friends around anyway.

“So...?”

“You’re a persistent fucker.” Billy groaned.

“I paid. Now fess up.” Eddie beckoned Billy to start talking with his hand. Billy rolled his eyes.

“I survived by sheer dumb luck.” Billy hummed.

“Really?”

“No, dumbass.” He drawled. “When I woke up, I thought I was dead. It wasn’t until I realised I could still feel pain that I actually got to work on not dying again, or at least suffering for eternity.” He shrugged and took another inhale. “I fucking ran and hid from every monster I stumbled upon until I found myself some weapons in the houses, the stores. It was a ghost town, most the food had spoiled outside of canned goods. But I wasn’t hungry often down there. I don’t know, it was like time didn’t move there, so neither did my hunger. I only ate when I remembered. After a while, I realised music helped.”

“Yeah, Nancy said everything had been frozen in time.” He said, thinking. “Music. That’s how we saved everyone from Vecna - music breaks the seal in your mind or something?” Eddie tried to remember the exact words Robin had used. “Wait, how did you realise?”

“Well, you get pretty bored when there’s nobody around. Started singing to myself to get through the dull parts. No offense but this towns library is shit and half of it was trashed. TV didn’t work, no electricity. No record spinning.”

“So you sang.” Eddie concluded.

“So I sang.” Billy shrugged. “I got attacked at my house. Slotted myself under some broken floorboards in an attempt to hide and well...I thought I was gonna die again. I was exhausted, bleeding... So I sang. And it was like I had become invisible.”

“So you just kept singing?”

“Yep. Whenever I couldn’t just kill them off myself, I would sing and hope for the best.”

“Holy shit, man.” Eddie’s lips formed an astonished ‘o’. “What song?”

“Why does that matter?”

“You sang your favourite song, right? What was it?”

“None of your business.” Billy finished off his cigarette and tossed it, beginning to stand. “Don’t stay out too late, Eds. Might catch a chill.”

“It’s spring.”

“Don’t catch the pollen then.” Billy grinned sardonically. “Thanks for the smoke.”

“Did you ever get lonely?” Billy paused in his steps at the question. “It just...sounded lonely. That’s all. It was pretty lonely when I was on the run.”

“...I’ve never needed anyone a day in my life.” Billy looked over his shoulder at Eddie and smirked, winking. “Don’t let the bed bugs bite, handsome.”

“Yeah...You too.” Billy didn’t look back, but he could feel Eddie’s eyes following him back to his trailer.

As he laid down the couch, blanket pulled over half his body, he hummed softly. The same tune, same melody. It didn’t help him sleep, but it soothed his pounding heart.

He hadn’t been lonely. He hadn’t deserved to feel that way. After all, he had been sent to hell but God himself, and it was only through the universes sick intervention that he was back here again.

So, no. He hadn’t ever been lonely. And he never will be. He didn’t need a soul outside himself.

[jlalafics]

How about a fic where peeta has a panty sniffing fetish?

Katniss has a website where she sells her gently worn panties to help bring in extra money to pay for medical school for Prim.

peeta and Katniss are neighbors and eventually she discovers a drawer full of her drawers in his house🩲

Hello! This is a bit of a long one, but I hope it meets your expectations. Happy Sunday!

I'd also like to say that if this is not your jam, do not attempt to read this. We all have different kinks/fetishes and this is just a story of one sort.

-------

“How was your date last weekend?”

Peeta sighed, taking a sip from his beer bottle, and grimaced at Gale.

“Kind of a wreck,” he admitted to his friend. “Beverly is nice, but there wasn’t really a spark. We parted on good terms and hugged it out.” Placing the bottle on the coffee table, Peeta met Gale’s skeptic stare. “I know that you think I’ve been lonely since Delly, but really, I’m okay.”

“I’m sure you’re okay,” Gale said. “I also know that it’s been a year since you’ve been laid. Yeah, there wasn’t a spark with Beverly. But dude, wasn’t there enough of a spark to get an erection?”

Peeta shook his head. “Not even close.” He smiled grimly. “We’re not all as lucky as you, Gale.”

“Why is Gale lucky?”

Madge, Gale’s wife, stepped into the room. She sat next to her husband in the loveseat adjacent to Peeta.

“I wasn’t lucky enough to fall in love with the only female in our trio,” Peeta replied with a smile. “Not that I mind. You’re like my sister, and we look like we could be twins. That’s too much of an incest vibe for me.”

“Glad we’re on the same page, bro,” Madge retorted. She gave him an affectionate smile. “You know we love you, right? It’s the only reason we bug you about your single status. We want you to be happy.”

“And sexually satisfied,” Gale added with a smirk.

“Both of you are too involved in my love life.” He stood up, slapping hands with Gale, and then kissing Madge’s cheek. “I’m going to go and let you do your married things.”

Madge grinned. “Well, I am ovulating…”

Peeta grimaced. “Okay, gross.

++++++

Stepping off the elevator, Peeta dragged himself towards his apartment. He loved his friends, but they could be exhausting with their attempts to help him get his life together—as in trying to help him find true love.

All in all, Peeta had a good life. His job as a graphic designer was going well, and he was up for a promotion. He was close to his two older brothers and his parents were always loving and supporting towards their sons’ endeavor. They were also heading towards their 35th year of marriage and more in love than ever.

His brothers were also happily married; Bran to his high school sweetheart, Cressida, and Rye to his partner, Marvel.

While he, the youngest of the family, remained single.

Peeta didn’t want to be alone. However, there were certain things about him that needed some…consideration.

“Oh, damnit!”

His thoughts were interrupted and Peeta looked to find a young woman kneeling in front of her door, grabbing at the pile of groceries that had fallen from the broken paper bag next to her. A lone cantaloupe rolled, stopping at his feet which he immediately picked up.

He rushed over to her, cradling the fruit. “I believe this is yours.”

The dark-haired woman smiled gratefully. “Thanks.” She took the cantaloupe from his grasp, placing it at her side. “These damn paper bags. It was fine on the drive home and up towards this floor, but the minute I grab for my keys, it ripped!”

“This happened to me a lot, too,” he replied, helping her gather her items. “Then, I found a solution.”

“And what was that?”

“Reusable bags.”

She snorted. “I’ll get right on that.”

Peeta reached into his messenger bag, pulling out the rolled-up bag he always kept on hand. “Here.”

“I couldn’t,” the woman said, her grey eyes wide. “I mean, it’s really nice of you to offer—”

“Peeta. Peeta Mellark.” He pointed to his door, across from hers. “Your neighbor.”

“Katniss Everdeen.”

She held out her hand and Peeta shook it. Her skin was soft…warm. As their palms kissed, a jolt of desire rush through him. It surprised him, the immediate attraction to this young woman. She was at least a few years younger than him, give or take.

“Well, Katniss Everdeen, consider it my welcome present,” he told her. “Why don't you unlock your door while I put these in the bag?”

She stared at him quizzically…no, more like suspiciously. “You’re really nice.”

“Is that a problem?”

“No…” Katniss stood, reaching into the purse against her hip, and pulling out a set of keys. “…I’m just not used to getting help from anyone. It’s just been me and my younger sister, Prim, for a long time now. I’m just used to being the one doing the helping.”

Peeta chuckled. “That’s how I am!”

“We’re a problematic duo, aren’t we?” Katniss opened the door, and he stood, handing her the bag. “I’ll wash it and give it back.”

“Keep it,” he insisted. “Gives me an excuse to knock on your door and see you.”

Katniss leaned against her doorway, her expression curious. “And, how?”

“To check on my bag.”

She laughed, bright and pretty, making his stomach tumble in a way that Peeta was wholly unused to.

“I’ll take good care of your bag, Peeta. Have a good evening.”

Katniss closed the door, and he stepped back towards his own.

“Goodnight, Katniss.”

Peeta turned toward his own door, pondering his sudden need to want to know everything about Katniss Everdeen.

++++++

“This is amazing, Prim!” Katniss read over the acceptance letter, her eyes filling. “I am so proud of you.” She placed the letter on the coffee table and pulled her sister into a hug. “I know Mom and Dad would be too. Medical school—and the top one at that!”

“Sis—” Prim pulled away, blue eyes flooded with concern. “It’s so expensive…and we’re already in so much debt just from me getting my bachelor's degree. How are we going to afford this?”

“I don’t want you to worry,” Katniss assured her. “I’ll figure it out, okay? As for you, look into scholarships because every little bit counts.”

Prim pulled her into another hug.

“I love you. You’re the best sister ever!” They separated and she jumped from her seat. “I’m going to call Rue and let her know that her best friend is going to be a doctor!”

Katniss chuckled at her Prim’s exuberance as she rushed to her bedroom. However, as soon as her door closed, Katniss let the smile slide off her face.

Reaching for her cell, Katniss quickly pressed Johanna’s name, and waited for her best friend to pick up.

Johanna immediately answered, “What’s up, sweetie?”

“Prim got into medical school.”

“That’s great!” her friend said. “But what about the cost?”

“Honestly, I don’t know,” Katniss replied. “I mean, we could try for financial aid, but we’re still paying for Prim’s four-year school. We could maybe receive some scholarship money, but that wouldn’t be much.”

“That’s the shits,” Johanna grumbled. “I mean, I could look into some work at my office—”

“No, it’s fine,” she said. “I have my admin job for that law firm downtown. It’s keeping me afloat along with the grocery store.”

“You’re running yourself ragged.”

“But it never seems like enough,” Katniss told her. “My day job pays the rent and my night job keeps us from starving. There’s no room for anything else.”

“There might be something…but you’re going to need to have an open mind.”

“At this point, I’ll try anything.”

“There’s this woman at work who was kind of in the same boat as you—needing extra cash,” Johanna began. “So, she started to sell a few personal items of hers and made an assload of cash.”

“What do I have to sell? Everything I own is crap!”

“Well…” Johanna cleared her throat. “She was selling her panties.”

“Were they La Perla or something?” Katniss asked. “I own plain old Target panties.”

“She was selling her used panties!” Johanna burst. “There’s a website where people will buy your gently used panties for a huge amount of cash.”

Katniss felt her head begin to throb. “I don’t understand.”

“Apparently, this is a huge turn on for some people,” her friend explained. “You know—panty sniffing.”

“Oh.” Katniss’ curiosity was piqued. “What would I have to do?”

“Just wear a pair for a day and then post them to the site,” Johanna said. “I mean, this would be a worst-case scenario if anything—”

“Prim got into one of the top medical schools.” Katniss knew how desperate she sounded, but they were barely able to keep their water running at this point. “I’ll do anything.”

“I understand,” Johanna told her gently. “How about, while Prim is in class, I come over and we just start you off with one post?”

Katniss sighed, wondering if the orange pair she was wearing would suffice, or even entice a buyer.

“Alright.”

++++++

Peeta toyed with the pair of panties in his hand.

He never really cruised sites like this one, but it had been a year since Delly. The lace pair she had gifted him had long lost her scent, and he had not thought about getting a new pair.

Until Katniss.

There was something about her that stirred him. They hadn’t seen one another since that day last week but his thoughts were constantly of her. Of her raven hair…and that soft olive skin…and that beautiful pearlescent smile…

Peeta thought about knocking on her door, but his confidence faltered as soon as his feet touched her doormat.

Instead, he would leave reusable bags at her doorstep, different things inside. Just yesterday, it had been a bottle of wine that Madge and Gale gifted him from their recent trip to Napa Valley.

His gaze went back to the delicate pair in his hands. It had been the deep orange that caught his eyes—like the sunset. Not to mention, it was his favorite color. They were cotton and lined with delicate lace around the waistline of the bikini-style panties.

He brought the pair to his nose, taking in a deep inhale. The scent was a soft musk with a hint of sweetness to it. Something about the smell caused his stomach to swoop.

There was something familiar about her scent.

It comforted him, thrilled him, and his heart raced because it felt in a lot of ways as her scent was his and his alone. He was never possessive, but the thought of anyone owning any of her pairs caused a sting of jealousy.

Going to his laptop, Peeta immediately favorited the seller before closing it.

Putting the pair into the top drawer of his dresser, he went to get ready for his usual Friday night dinner with Gale and Madge. Madge was trying out a new recipe and Peeta promised to grab dessert. The fancy supermarket was just minutes away from their place and they had awesome cakes.

Hopefully being with his friends would get his mind off the pair…and off Katniss.

++++++

Five more minutes.

Katniss blew the strand of her hair off her forehead as she bounced on her toes behind the checkout counter. Somewhere in the store, Prim waited for her shift to finish so they could head home for the night.

At least, tomorrow was her day off. The office was closed on the weekends and miraculously they hadn’t scheduled her to work. Katniss pondered on what to do with her free day. There was that pile of laundry gathering in their hamper…and also several episodes of The Circle waiting for her on her laptop…

Wow, her life was sad.

“Katniss?”

She looked up to find Peeta Mellark, her neighbor, grinning warmly at her. A heat immediately infused her cheeks and Katniss prayed that she didn’t look too flushed.

“Hi,” she greeted. Her eyes went to the boxed cake from their bakery. “Good choice. I love the chocolate cake.”

“I’m having dinner with my two best friends,” he explained. “Madge is making something new and well, Gail loves this cake.”

Katniss raised a brow curiously—two female best friends? Of course, he had two girl best friends.

Peeta was one of those men who not only unbelievably attracted with his deep blues and sandy swept back hair, but also genuinely charming.

She wondered if this Friday night dinner was code for something else.

Shit—was she jealous?

“Good luck with the new recipe,” she told him. “And who wouldn’t love this cake? I mean, chocolate is an instant mood lifter for girls.”

Peeta’s brows furrowed for a moment before he burst out in laughter.

“I’m sorry if I confused you, but Gail is a guy,” he informed her. “Spelled G-A-L-E.”

“Oh! I thought it was pretty cool that you had two female best friends…my mistake.”

Inside, Katniss whooped in happiness.

“Known them since forever. They’ve been a couple most of my life while I’ve been their third wheel.” Peeta met her eyes. “For a moment, I thought you were jealous.”

“And why would I be jealous?” she questioned.

He smiled widely and her center twisted in hunger. The night they met; Katniss had closed her eyes to sleep but her mind wandered to the man across the hall. She was surprised how attractive she found him and how much she wanted to imagine his lips dragging along her skin.

“I don’t know.” Peeta held out his credit card, his stare firmly on her as she took it. “Maybe it was that I was hoping you were—”

Katniss fumbled, dropping the card but immediately getting together to run it through her register.

She tore the receipt from the feeder and then handed it to him along with the card.

“Thanks for coming in,” she said hurriedly. “I’ll see you around.”

Peeta stared at her for a moment. He almost looked…hurt.

Katniss softened her stance, giving him a small smile. She liked him and didn’t want to scare him off. However, it had shocked her system to hear him flirting with her.

She took a breath. “Maybe I was…a little.”

“You have nothing to worry about,” he assured her. Peeta cleared his throat before stepping closer to the counter. “I know this might sound forward but…maybe you’d want to join me?”

“At your friends’ house?”

He nodded. “Yes, I’d like them to meet you. I may have mentioned the beautiful woman next door more than once.”

Katniss shook her head. “I’m not beautiful. Prim was always the beauty of the Everdeen family. I’m the practical one, the ordinary one.”

His hand covered hers where it rested on the counter.

“I happen to find you inordinately beautiful. This beautiful, ebony hair—” His other hand reached for the tip of her braid. “—that sweet face…” His index finger traced her jawline before lifting her chin. “And those eyes—so full of life. Even in all that gorgeous grey, I can see that spark…that fire.”

Her breath caught in her throat. No one had ever said anything so…passionate to her, let alone about her.

“Katniss?”

Prim stood before them, her blue eyes curious, and Peeta immediately dropped his hand.

Her sister walked over. “Who’s this?”

Katniss swallowed down her embarrassment at being caught.

“This is our neighbor, Peeta Mellark.” She smiled at him. “Peeta, this is my sister Prim.”

“Nice to finally meet you!” Prim said brightly as she eyed Katniss. “My sister mentioned our cute neighbor which surprised me because Katniss never talks about guys. Her last date was about a year ago and the dude was a total douchebag. I thought for a moment that she had given up on men—”

“Prim,” she called out. “Let’s not scare our nice neighbor who helped me with our groceries, okay?”

“It’s nice to meet you, Prim.” Peeta gave her a kind smile before looking at Katniss. “I was just asking your sister if she wanted to join me at my friends’ house for dinner—”

“She’d love to!” Prim beamed at her. “I was worried about her being all alone tonight as I’m heading out for a friend’s birthday party.”

“I’m not sure.” Katniss bit her lip anxiously. What if his friends didn’t like her? She was a twenty-four-year-old loner working two jobs. She never went to college, having to drop out to take custody of Prim after their parents sudden passing. “I’m not exactly party ready.”

“It’s very casual,” Peeta assured her. “I know whatever you wear will look great.”

“Come on, Katniss!” Prim urged. “It will be fun. Don’t worry about having to leave the car here. I’ll take it home. You have the keys, right?”

Her gaze went to Peeta. He was looking at her with a barely concealed warmth and the thought made her chest burn, not in the scary way but in the exhilarated way that made her whole-body thrum.

“Okay, I’ll go,” she relented. “I’m off work now but I have to grab my stuff.”

“Great!” Peeta beamed and her sister clapped happily. “I’ll be waiting right here.”

“You can wait by your car. I don’t want you to have to just stand here.”

“Katniss, for you, I’ll wait for as long as I have to.” His hand went to hers. “I’ve waited long enough for you.”

++++++

“She’s great,” Madge said quietly. “And you two live across from one another?”

Peeta nodded, watching as Katniss and Gale debated over the best archery spots in their town. Apparently, Katniss’ father had been a master archer and had taught his eldest daughter the sport. Gale had been captain of their high school archery team.

“I was heading home from dinner with you and Gale. Her groceries had fallen from her bag, and I helped her out. I haven’t been able to get her off my mind since.”

“I approved, and I know Gale does,” his friend told him. “Anyone who shares my husband's love for archery is a winner in his book.” She watched the two for a moment. “Katniss looks young, but she comes off as a lot older.”

“She’s twenty-four.” They had gone over the basics about one another during their drive over to the Hawthorne house. “I know I have a good five years over her, but she’s no ordinary twenty-four-year-old. Katniss took over custody for her sister when she was just eighteen. She had to drop out of college and start working to feed them both. Now, her sister Prim has just gotten into medical school.”

“Wow,” Madge breathed. “She carries a lot.”

“I really like her,” he admitted. “More than I’ve ever liked anyone. I might not have known her for very long, but I can already see that Katniss has a huge heart. She’s the kind of person I want…need in my life.”

“I just want you to be careful, Peeta,” his friend warned. “Make sure Katniss feels the same. You two are on two different levels. I know that you’re at that point where you want to get married. She might not be. Just keep that in mind.”

“What are you talking about?” Gale suddenly hollered.

“The chocolate cake waiting in the kitchen.” Peeta stood up, going to Katniss. He held his hand out. “Want a piece?"

Katniss smiled, placing her hand in his and giving it a squeeze. His chest burst at the affection in just that one pulse from her palm to his.

She stood up, her smoky eyes on him, and Peeta found himself lost in them.

“I’d love one.”

++++++

“I like Gale and Madge.” They walked towards their apartment door, pressed closely together. “Though that paella was questionable.”

Peeta chuckled. “Well, Madge is good at a lot of things. However, experimenting with recipes is not one of them.” They stopped as they reached their doors and he guided them over to hers. “Thank you for coming with me. It was nice to not be the third wheel for once.”

Katniss nodded, rocking between her feet. It was obvious she was nervous. Rightly so, they were at their doors, and it was that moment where you wondered if you should go in for a kiss or just walk away. Honestly, Peeta wanted nothing more than to feel those cherry lips of hers locked onto his. However, he could sense that this wasn’t the time for it.

Peeta held out his arms, breaking the tension. “Get in here.”

Katniss laughed but stepped into his space before wrapping her arms around his neck. His arms encircled her waist, enclosing them in a full embrace.

He pressed his nose into her hair, taking a deep breath and letting the notes of her shampoo play against his nostrils. She smelled slightly sweet but there another note…a light musk that was almost familiar.

“Have dinner with me,” he whispered, dipping his lips against the curve of her neck.

Katniss shivered, her body pressing closer against him. “When?”

“Whenever you’re free.” Peeta pulled away to look into her eyes. “I know you’re busy, so I’ll take anytime I can.”

“I work the rest of the week and I’m helping Prim with some scholarship applications tomorrow,” she said. “But I’m free tomorrow night.”

“How about I cook us dinner?” he suggested. “I promise I’m better than Madge with recipes.”

Katniss nodded. “Tomorrow night.”

“I’ll knock around six.” Before Peeta could stop himself, he pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek. However, his lips met the space just next to her ear and he hardened smelling the faint perfume near her pulse point. “Looking forward to it.”

Katniss stepped back, smoky eyes round, and pressed herself back against her door.

There was a heat there, an undeniable hunger. He was a second away from launching himself at her. Judging by the knuckle-whitening grip on her doorknob so was Katniss.

“I should go,” she squeaked before turning away and unlocking her door.

With one last smile, Katniss disappeared into her apartment.

Peeta fumbled with his keys, hurriedly opening his door and walking into his own place. He immediately went to his bedroom and towards his dresser. Pulling the top drawer open, his hands grasped for the latest pair from his seller—a hunter green pair with white lace at the waist.

He brought his nose to them, inhaling the musk, and letting his arousal rise. He was already hard from being with Katniss but combined with this feminine scent—it was almost too much. The scent was heady, still sweet, and familiar, so much that he could almost imagine that it was Katniss’ panties he was sniffing.

His climax came unexpectedly, and he doubled over, gripping at the top of his dresser as it rushed through his body.

“Katniss!”

Shit—this had never happened. Not so quickly anyway.

However, the image of this pair on Katniss’ full hips had swept into his mind and paired with the look of want in her smoky eyes had pulled him over the edge.

Peeta let out a gasp, letting himself breathe fully. Placing the pair back in his top drawer, he walked over to his bed, sitting at the end of it and rested his head in his hands.

He knew that fetishes were normal, but he worried what Katniss would think.

Because despite knowing her for the short time, Peeta really liked her. He was well on his way to falling for her.

Peeta couldn’t pinpoint when this all started. He had a healthy sexual life despite this one thing. His first sexual experience had been with high school girlfriend, Audrey, and Peeta had enjoyed it. He loved pressing his mouth to the cloth of her Victoria’s Secret panties, smelling her arousal through the cotton, and tasting as it soaked through.

Audrey had been his first, and throughout their senior year, his constant source for sexual satisfaction. They parted ways amicably, even hooking up during this first Spring Break. After, there were encounters, each time helping him gain more experience. However, Peeta noticed his preference for the feminine scent during his second year of college.

One of his hook-ups had left a pair of panties in his room, and upon them, he curiously sniffed. It had stirred something in him, and Peeta found himself hiding them away to occasionally smell whenever the need arose.

Delly had been the first woman who he had revealed his fetish to, and she had been surprisingly supportive. However, she wasn’t particularly aroused by the thought. Delly indulged him, allowing him to openly sniff pairs of her panties and even giving him one that she had worn right after a vigorous shag they had.

However, it had not been true love and they separated after six months together. Delly had recently married, and he was happy for her. However, it made him wonder if there would be anyone else who would be as accepting as she had been.

Because Peeta wanted to get married, he wanted a life like Gale and Madge, like Delly and her husband, Thom. He wanted a partner in life and in love.

And Peeta thought that maybe, just maybe, Katniss might be it.

++++++

Katniss let out a nervous breath, waiting for Peeta’s knock.

It had been more than a week since she had seen the man. Their first planned date had been unexpectedly cancelled when Prim had come down with the flu and Katniss had caught it. Peeta had been understanding, even leaving some takeout chicken soup at their doorstep and some Theraflu.

Her admin job had allowed her to work from home while she recovered. However, she lost out on her shifts at the store, but had supplemented it with her other…job.

She was surprised at the amount of money that her used panties had gotten. She had paid off almost all of Prim’s leftover debt from her four-year school. Her latest pair would be making up for the lost income from her week of being sick.

Katniss’ curiosity had been piqued by the panty fetish. She had never really thought about the feminine scent and how it was something that people might be into. Then, the night that she was with Peeta, she walked into her bedroom, her body stimulated by his lips against her skin.

Katniss peeled off the obviously soaked pair, a simple white cotton with pink bow, and brought them to her nose.

She was surprised how turned on she was by it. The scent of her was heightened by her arousal of Peeta’s touch. It was quickly followed by the worry of what he might think if he found out that she liked her own scent…more than liked.

That night, Katniss came on her fingers at the thought of kissing Peeta with her taste on both their lips.

The knock on the front door broke her from her reverie and she rushed over to it, pulling it open to be greeted by Peeta’s handsome face.

“Hi,” she greeted nervously.

“You ready?” Katniss nodded, stepping out into the hall and closing the door behind her. Peeta took her hand, giving it a squeeze. “I’m really glad we’re getting to do this. I missed you this week.”

“You did?” Her words came out in a squeak.

Peeta grinned as he led her into his apartment, closing the door behind her.

He wrapped his arms around her waist, tilting her chin up to meet his eyes. “I did.”

Katniss smiled at his words, her heart racing and her center pulsating at the nearness of him.

“Can we just get the kiss the out of the way? I mean, it would have already happened if I hadn’t gotten the flu and I’ve just been waiting for it this whole week—”

She was immediately cut off as Peeta covered her mouth with his. He cupped the back of her head, guiding her as his lips pillowed between her bottom lip, sucking slow as he drew out. She hissed at the contact and gulped in a breath, allowing him to engulf her mouth. His tongue swept it, tasting ravenously, and drawing her own into a sensual dance.

Katniss felt lightheaded, aware of everything and nothing as their hands wandered. She grinded her core to his and Peeta growled, biting at her lower lip and roughly grabbing her ass.

“Oh fuck,” he groaned into her mouth. “That was one hell of a first kiss.”

She snorted, her body thrumming. “I totally agree.”

“We should have dinner first.” Peeta led her to the round table by the kitchen and pulled out her chair for her. She sat down and he leaned down to press a kiss into her neck. “Probably won’t taste as good as you though.”

Katniss grinned. “Cheesy, but I’m into that.”

Peeta had made a light salad, spaghetti Bolognese, and a baguette to dip their sauce in. She was surprised to learn during their light conversation that he made the bread himself. His family owned a small bakery, and his parents still worked there occasionally.

“My eldest brother, Bran, runs it with his wife,” he explained. “My other brother does the marketing.”

“And you?”

“Since I’m the graphic designer of the family, I design all the logos and signage,” he told her. Peeta unlocked his phone and showed her his latest project for the bakery—an updated menu for the autumn season. “I’ve added a few more items like the apple cider donuts and changed up the design to give it a warmer feel. I want to feel like you’re at home, so I made it looked like a chalkboard.”

“That’s great,” she told him. “It’s nice to do something you love and be able to help your family in the process.”

Dessert was tiramisu—made by Peeta, as well—and it was delicious. It was obvious that beside his artistic skills in graphics, he had culinary skills. While they ate, Katniss told him about her life, other than work. She talked about her happy childhood with her parents—high school sweethearts—and Prim. How it all changed when she received a call during her first year in college that altered her, and Prim’s lives forever.

“You’ve been through a lot,” Peeta remarked softly. “And I can tell that you’re the kind of person who takes care of others, never thinking about herself in the process.”

“You just have to do what you have to do,” she reasoned.

“Who takes care of you?”

“I don’t need anyone,” Katniss told him simply.

Peeta stood, helping her from her chair, and leading her to his couch. She sank back against the plush cushions, feeling herself relax. He had decorated the place with simple warm touches, a dark wood coffee table and comfortable furniture. Peeta handed her a throw and Katniss took it gratefully.

He started a fire in his brick fireplace before joining her and she spread the blanket between them. They lapse into comfortable silence, staring at the flames. Katniss relaxed in the warmth of the man beside her.

“This should feel weird, should it?” Katniss turned to meet his gaze and her breath caught at the intensity in his blues. "Just being so comfortable with each other in such a short time?”

“Sometimes, things just work.” Peeta dipped his mouth into hers. “We work.”

Their lips brushed languidly, and Katniss felt the ache between her thighs. “More.”

Peeta indulged her, his hand weaving into her hair before plunging his tongue into her mouth. Katniss moaned, the heat rising as their kiss deepened and she tasted the tiramisu on his lips. Her hands explored, running along his shoulders then down to his chest.

He growled, grabbing her hips to help her straddle his lap. There, Katniss felt his erection pressing against her core and she thrust, desperate for me.

“Fuck—” Peeta ripped his mouth away, his hands playing against her blouse. Slowly, he unbuttoned her, stopping just enough to reveal the black mesh bra she wore. His hand reached, pulling back the cloth to expose her tits. They bounced, nipples perked and at mouth level for him. Gently, Peeta cupped one, running the pad of his thumb along her nipple. “—you’re so beautiful.”

“I want you,” Katniss panted. Boldly, she unbuttoned his pants and reached under the band of briefs to wrap her hand around him. She pumped him slowly and Peeta trembled, his mouth falling as he gasped out his pleasure.

“I want you, too,” he breathed out. “But, not just for the night.” His eyes gazed into her. “I want more for us…does that scare you?”

Katniss stilled at his words, her eyes filling as she wondered how she had gotten so lucky.

“No,” she replied softly. “Not one bit.”

Peeta smiled, kissing her once more. “Hold on.” He stood and she wrapped her legs around his waist. “I’m going to take you to my bedroom. Is that alright?”

She smiled. “It’s a given.”

It felt like an eternity getting to his room. However, it was possibly due to them stopping to kiss between the trip. As Peeta walked them towards the doorway, her mouth pressed to his neck, tasting his sweat, and her core tighten at the taste.

His bedroom was like the rest of house, warm and inviting. His king-sized bed was covered with a dark green comforter, taupe pillowcases accenting the dark motif. The lighting was soft and romantic and as Katniss slid off him, she toed off her shoes, feeling the soft carpet beneath.

Peeta wrapped his arms around her waist, hands spread across her stomach.

“Are you wet for me?”

He undid the button of her jeans and pulled the zipper down. Katniss pressed back, feeling his erection in the cleft of her ass. Her panties, a simple striped bikini, revealed themselves and Peeta reached underneath the band to cup her quim in the palm of his hand.

“Oh gorgeous, you’re soaked.” His fingers dipped along her entrance and her stomach twisted, causing her knees to go weak. Peeta grounded his palm into clit and her arm wound itself around his neck to steady herself. “Tell me what you need.”

“I…ohh…” His other hand palmed at her tits. “I need…your mouth on me.”

“Where?” Peeta sucked at her earlobe, and she sobbed, her back arching at the stimulation. “Your lips, you neck—”

“My cunt!” she cried. “I want to taste myself on your mouth!”

His hands went to her jeans, grabbing and yanking, and tossing them away before she could even realize. Peeta fell to his knees in front of her, his mouth latching onto her clit through the soak cloth of her panties. He moaned hungrily and the vibration traveled through her body, and she reached for anything to steady her. Her hand found purchase against the dresser, and she held on as Peeta tore off her panties.

His eyes met hers. “You’re beautiful.”

He kissed between her thighs, his tongue licking the slick that coated her skin. His mouth kissed at her pussy tenderly, reverent almost, until he found her bud, now free from cloth and latched on to suck.

Her climax overcame her, and Katniss clutched at drawer by her hand. Her body arched, pushing her cunt full onto Peeta’s eager mouth as she snapped.

“Oh—Peeta!”

There was a sudden crash and her world tipped as Katniss tumbled onto Peeta.

She laughed, kissing Peeta, and tasting herself on his lips. The heady scent was intoxicating, and Katniss pushed his pants off his hips, mind clouded with lust.

“I need you,” Peeta said, shifting so he was atop. His cock, thick with arousal, made her mouth water and she watched as he gripped himself to line himself up to her center.

Then, in one smooth thrust, Peeta was inside her.

“Fuck, you feel so amazing around me.” They began to move in sync, her hips meeting his with each plunge of his cock. Her eyes never left his, feeling the elation of her orgasm and the overwhelming affection for the man in front of her. “I know I shouldn’t be saying this right now, but I’m falling for you.”

Katniss felt it once more, the familiar tightening of another climax approaching. She knew Peeta felt the grip of her on his cock as he began to move hurriedly, eager to come with her.

“I’m coming…I’m coming….”

Another whimper tumbled her mouth, and her vision went white. Katniss fell apart, taking him with her. She heard Peeta’s cries and the warmth as he filled her.

After, they laid together on the carpet of his bedroom, both breathless.

“I did not expect that,” Peeta said, meeting her eyes. “Do you need anything?”

“A glass of water and a napkin.” Katniss reached, suddenly making contact with a cloth. “What is this?”

It was a pair of panties. Orange with lace trim.

These were hers.

She sat up and turned to him. “Why do you have these?”

Peeta shot up. “I can explain—”

“Why do you have my panties?”

His eyes widened in shock. “Your panties?”

“Yes, I sold these to pay off Prim’s debt! Why do you have them?”

Peeta took a breath. “I bought them.”

“Oh,” she said in quiet shock. “You like to—”

“The scent,” he explained. “Yours, in particular, as I bought every pair that you posted.”

“Okay.” Katniss placed her hands on her lap. “Do you do this a lot?”

“I’ve had pairs from girlfriends. Yours are the only ones that I’ve actually bought online,” Peeta told her. “I know how this looks—”

“I think that I need to go home.”

Katniss rose, gathering her clothes, and pulling them on quickly.

Peeta followed as she rushed towards the front door. “Katniss, please…”

“I just need to process this. Okay?”

Katniss saw the hurt in his eyes, but her own thoughts were so jumbled.

Peeta nodded, resigned as he opened the door for her. “Okay.”

Without another word, she turned and walked towards her apartment.

It was until Katniss changed for the night that she realized that she left her panties at his place.

++++++

It had been a week.

Peeta stared at the pair that he placed in his dresser. Katniss had left them that night, so in a rush to escape his depravity. Honestly, he never thought of what he was doing as wrong until he saw the look on her face.

The confusion, the sudden realization that the man she had just made love to own such an intimate piece of clothing of hers.

Peeta did his best to respect her privacy, but it was killing him. He missed her. Everything felt hollow and nothing seem as bright without her around.

He closed his account on the website, finding that she was no longer selling as well.

It didn’t matter anymore anyway.

This fetish of his was no more; it stopped the moment he smelled her scent.

Katniss was the only thing he wanted.

Placing the taped bag with her panties on the doorway, Peeta knocked before stepping into his apartment and closing the door behind him.

++++++

Peeta trudged up towards the hallway; it had been a long day for him. However, it seemed that all his day seemed longer without Katniss.

He was expected at Gale and Madge in an hour and something sharp hit him knowing that they would ask about Katniss. How could he explain that Katniss had broken things off thanks to his little fetish? This part of his life he kept firmly a secret from his best friends.

“You look like you’ve had a bad day.”

Peeta looked up, finding Katniss at his doorstep.

He offered her a weak smile.

“A bad week and a half, really. Katniss—”

“I like the smell of myself,” she said suddenly. “And I liked when your frenched kissed my pussy.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I know one of your kinks. So, you should know some of mine.” Katniss stepped towards him carefully. “That’s what people who care about each other do, right? Learn what they like and don’t like in all aspects of each other’s lives.”

“I want to know everything about you,” Peeta told her. “Not just what turns you on. I want to know what side of the bed you sleep on, what your favorite food is, who was you first kiss—”

“Left, curly fries, and a boy named Cato from summer camp,” Katniss replied, tears in her eyes. “I am falling for you, Peeta, but I think we need to know a little more about one another before love comes into play.”

Peeta took her hand. “Is that even on the table?”

She nodded, the tears hitting her cheeks. “Definitely.”

It was enough.

Peeta pulled her into his arms. “I missed you so much.”

Katniss sniffled. “Me, too.” They pulled apart and she smiled. “Can we start again?”

He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. “Always.”

She sighed contently against his mouth. “There is one thing.”

“What?”

Katniss wrapped her arms around him.

“The only panties you can have are mine.”

“Deal.”

They sealed it with a kiss.

FIN.