#someone asked me to include more belly noises so I tried including both

[comfortablecomfort]

Tord's Discovery

(*inhale* It's time. This is my first fic with Tord as a ler or lee. I know I technically put him in a fic by adding his female counterpart, but whatever. Enjoy, but warning their is some slightly different stuff being included in this, it also has feet tickles.)

Ler: Tord

Lee: Tom

It's been an hour, Edd and Matt haven't returned home yet.

Tom sighed and looked at the clock.

"Hm, they should be back by now." Tom said

He DID enjoy the peace and quiet, but he kinda missed them.. Oh well

But little did Tom know, that his peace was about to be altered.

"Thank God honestly, I deserve a break from those two screaming and forcing me to-"

Just before he could continue his little rant, Tom heard some muttering and rattling.

"Hello? Edd? Matt?" The noise startled him

There was no response, now this was getting weird.

Tom slowly got up from the couch, grabbing a harpoon and making his way towards the noises.

"Guys, this better not be another prank... or I swear to God." Tom muttered

When he finally reached the noises, he Shouted.

"WHO GOES THERE?!" pointing his harpoon at the possible intruder

And when he looked, there was a shadow of a familiar face.

But there was something different about this shadow.

It wasn't Edd or Matt at all, it was another face he knew, he despised looking at, someone he will never consider a friend.

It was none other than...

"Oh! Hello, Old Friend~"

Tord, it was Tord

Tom nearly dropped his Harpoon at the sight of his enemy.

"T-Tord?!" Tom asked in disbelief

"Wasn't expecting you to find me, Jehovah's Witness. I thought you and the other two were out." Tord said

"What the hell are you doing here? I thought you were gonna "making it in the big city." Tom asked

"Oh, I'm just getting something I left behind, nothing huge." Tord said simply, but something felt off

"Okay, why is that "something" in my room?" Tom asked with suspicion

"Well, this was originally my room.. wasn't it? I just forgot to take it with me when I left." Tord said in a once again simple tone.

"Bull." Tom had enough of Tord's supposed lies

"Pardon?" Tord asked

"You expect me to believe the shit you're saying right now? If you left something behind, you wouldn't sneak in to get it, commie." Tom scoffed

"Well, this thing isn't just a normal little object-"

"Well, when Edd and Matt get back, they might wanna figure this out." Tom said

Tord growled, he's been discovered by his enemy, and Edd and Matt could come home any moment now. He had to think fast.

But what should he do? Attack Tom? Tie Him Up so he doesn't rat him out?

"Well Tom, we're both pretty lucky that Edd and Matt aren't home at the moment." Tord teased

"What are you saying?" Tom asked, even more suspicious now.

"Well, this thing I'm looking for is very is very important to me, and I can't have you telling anyone about this, can I?" Tord asked, moving closer and closer to Tom.

Tom kept backing away, Harpoon back in hand.

"H-Hey! What do you think your doing?! Back off you-"

Tom was immediately cut off as Tord grabbed his arms and legs and tied him in an eagle position.

"What the hell?! Let me go you piece of shit!" Tom fumbled angrily as he tried to free himself.

"Well, that's better." Tord grinned at Tom's position

"What are you gonna do? Kill me?!" Tom asked, livid

"Well, I can't just leave you here without inflicting something.. so I'm not sure..." Tord was stuck, now what should he do?

But then he noticed Tom's exposed belly slightly showing.

Without warning, he squeezed Tom's side.

"Pfft, D-Don't do that!" Tom tried not to giggle at the tickly touch.

"Here's a question for you Thomas, are you ticklish?" Tord asked that hell that was a question.

"N-No! I'm not, now get me out of this!" Tom demanded

Tord rolled his eyes and prodded Tom's hips

"You're not a very good liar, Jehovah's witness." He teased, and Tom held it in

"Pffft, MHMHMHMH D-Dohon- *snrk*"

Tom was grinning but struggling to hold it in, he did NOT wanna get defeated like this.

"Look at you, trying to keep it in. Don't keep it in Tom, I already found out." Tord picked up the pace, and Tom was already starting to lose it.

"Wahahait! N-NAHAHA." Tom let out giggles, dammit

"There we go, that wasn't so hard..." Tord remarked

"SHUHUT-"

"Where else are you sensitive, hm?" Tord searched everywhere for a potential weak spot, he settled for the underarms

Tom already attempted to kick the Norsk off him

"STAHAHAHAP IHIHIT! YOU DIHIHIRTY COHOMMIE!" Tom screeched and kicked, but to no avail

"You better watch that tone of yours, I could do this for as much as I can." Tord teased, though he did have a time limit.

"NOHOHOHO, YOU CAHAHAN'T, I SWEHEAR WHEN I GEHEHET OUT OF THIS!" Tom laughed with a slight warning thrown in there.

"What a sight, but I'm not done yet... I wonder if I can find a spot that makes you beg." Tord stopped and looked around again

"D-Do your worst, you son of a bitch." Tom snarked

Tord paused for a moment

"I'm sorry, what did you just say?" Tord asked in a cold tone

"I said, Do your worst you son of a bitch." Tom replied witha similar tone and a cocky smile.

That. Was. It.

Tord looked down at Tom's feet and wondered if this would work.

"Y'know, I haven't tried this spot yet."

Tord started undoing Tom's shoes and threw them to the floor, scoffing at Tom's checkered socks.

Tom immediately panicked when Tord reached for his socks.

"No! Wait!" Tom was about to beg

"Yes?" Tord ask with Tom's original cocky tone

"D-Don't touch my feet, I'll die." Tom begged with a slight sigh, Tord chuckled at this priceless situation

"Now you're scared? I had a feeling you'd regret saying what you said." Tord slipped of Tom's checkered socks and threw them to the floor as well.

Tom bit his lip and prepared for the worst, but raised an eyebrow when Tord reached into his pocket.

He pulled out a long quill

"Edd found this on a beach and gave this to me as a good luck charm, I kept it in case I needed it, and now's the perfect opportunity." Tord explained

Without another warning, Tord leaned down and scribbled his fingers all over Tom's soles, and the pineapple man burst.

"EEEEAHAHAHAHA N-N-NO! TOHOHOHORD- TOHOHORD NAHAHA!" Tom begged and chortled

"I'm waiting for the begging." Tord teased and used the quill to target Tom's right foot.

"NAHAHAHAT THAHAT ANYTHING BUT THAHAT! STAHAHAP NAHA!" Tom laughed and shaked his head, trying to free himself from the restraints.

"This is quite the discovery. Who knew you'd be so ticklish, Tom?" Tord asked with a tease being hinted.

Tord turned the quill around and used it's end to target every part of Tom's sole, from his arches to right underneath the toes.

From the intensity from the quill, and the constant teasing. Tom was actually breaking.

"NOHOHOHO MOHOHORE! PLEHEHEASE NOHOHO MOHOHORE!" Tom begged and gasped for air. Thankfully for him, Tord slowed down.

"Yeah, I'm getting a bit exhausted as well." Tord finally let up and took at good look at Tom

His face was red and stained with tears of laughter, he was sweating too. He breathed heavily when he let up.

"Well, I think I should get back to what I was doing. I'll be taking this." Tord said as he picked up Tom's harpoon.

"Anyway, I got what I came for." Tord headed to Tom's room.

"W-Wait! You're gonna leave me here?!" Tom asked, getting upset again.

"Of Course, you think i'd untie you after all of this? I'll leave you there for Edd and Matt to find. I'm off now, so long Jehovah's Witness." Tord taunted as he finally opened Tom's locked door, and entered as soon as possible.

Tom was at his breaking point, he felt himself being blessed as soon as he heard a car parking outside. Edd and Matt finally arrived home, but stared in shock at their captured friend.

"Tom! Are you okay?! What happened? Why are you tied up?" Edd asked with great concern, undoing Tom's binds.

Tom could only tell his roommates one thing.

"He's Back."

The three panicked when they felt the house rumble.

(Finally Fucking Done, this is probably the longest fic I wrote. I'm not a huge fan of Tord. So that explains why this is his first ever fic. Also, sorry if you don't like this fic. I tried to make it as SFW as possible, so I hope you don't mind. Bye now.)

[askbloatedbellyblog]

Suneater’s Pants Problem

(Once again I try to write a short drabble and then it is definitely not)

The patrol day at Tamaki’s internship started so well. As he changed clothes from his civilian outfit to his hero uniform, he was pleased at the progress that he had been making with Mirio in the weight room and training. He was always proud of it and took it as a symbol of Mirio’s hard work and being able to be stronger to protect his now powerless friend. His stomach growled loudly in protest from lack of being fed after their hard workout after Tamaki had to leave the gym directly to go to his internship with Fatgum.

He pulled on his black spandex compression shirt over his defined muscles, his athletic and toned muscles, though not as big as others more muscle bound than he (Mirio came to mind), bulged out from the stretched fabric. It brushed over his abs even as his empty stomach behind them groaned in need, the cobbled muscle still concave down to his narrow waist. “Can’t you be quiet for once?” He asked his own body as he rubbed his hand over his abs to try to signal that now was not the time. Kirishima walked into the locker room just as Tamaki was done putting on his shirt and about to put on his hood and vest. “Looking good there Suneater! So manly!” the redhead added, not so subtly checking him out. However, Tamaki’s stomach didn’t want to be left out and let out a mighty roar of hunger like a monster was clawing its way out. Both looked down at Tamaki’s flat stomach. Tamaki lowered his hood in embarrassment. “...Sorry... I didn’t get to eat.” This ended up being Tamaki’s famous last words.

Several hours later, after their shift was done, Tamaki groggily pulled himself into the locker room with a hiccup. It had been a slow day on patrol with Fat Gum and Kirishima had taken the opportunity to spill the beans that Tamaki was hungry. Not only that but Tamaki’s stomach agreed with the statement and let out a growl loud enough to even make Fat Gum worry. “Don’t worry there Suneater! We got you covered! You’re a growing boy, we’ll make sure you get plenty to eat!” Fat Gum said, slapping Tamaki on the back hard enough that he almost went flying. Kirishima was all smiles though there seemed to be a glint in his eyes that the anxiety ridden Tamaki worried meant something else, and he was right.

The pair had apparently made it their mission to feed Tamaki plate after plate of food at the local restaurants on patrol. Tamaki was pretty sure he had lost count as he just tried to keep up with everything that was shoved into his face. He knew there was more to it when he was full and trying to tell Fat Gum he had had enough, but Kirishima kept pushing for Tamaki to eat more. “You should have heard how loud his stomach was! It’s so manly, we got to make sure he eats just as manly an amount!” as he got Fat Gum to pay for another order.

But now the damage was done. Tamaki had had to undo his vest and utility belt to make room for his aching stomach, and was grateful for said vest and his hoodie to hide some of the damage the food had done to him while he was shoving food into his mouth. He just wanted to be done and home and rest off his protesting food baby that stretched the skin on his middle. His stomach was just as noisy as before but instead of growls of hunger, it was giving off sounds of protest. His stomach glorped and gurgled, with shifting food inside as it made its way down his digestive tract painfully obvious as he moved. He sat down with a huff and bent over to try to undo do his clothes in front of his locker. As he bent forward with a grunt, he burped unintentionally as he took off his robe then his tight fitting spandex pants that hugged his butt and legs and looped around the arch of his foot. His protesting and burbling stomach in his lap pressed down on his legs, making it painfully obvious just how round and bloated he really was.

Tamaki rubbed his belly to try to take the edge off or coddle it to let it know he was painfully aware of it’s protests. It wasn’t exactly his fault he ate so much. I mean it partly was because deep down he liked being full, bloated, heavy, and round; letting his inward gluttony come out. But he didn’t want it today! They just kept shoving food at him, especially Kirishima! Well at least that’s what he tried to say softly to his stomach as he worked up the courage to continue to change his clothes. Taking a deep but painful breath, thanks to his overly engorged middle, he took off his spandex shirt that had put in a good fight over his indulgence but had moved past being able to contain his bloated out abs completely and had ridden up to his stretched belly button. It was near hard as a rock before thanks to his training and now his middle was near hard as a rock from his eating. He grunted loudly as he pulled the shirt off over his chest and head and then pulled his arms out of the tight material.

Steeling himself once more, he grabbed his boxers and put them on, grunting again as he had to work around his bulging belly in his middle to slip his feet into the hole and then stand up. He was forced to have them low, under the swell of his belly. “One down…” he said with a huff, his dark bangs moving a bit out of his face from the puff of frustrated air. He tried to bent at his knees a bit to then grab his jeans and tried to balance as best he could to put on the jeans while standing since he was not eager to let his belly get in his way once again. He tried to use the side of the locker as a brace for balance and pull up the jeans and fit his feet through the holes. He let out a sigh that this procedure was substantially easier than putting his boxers on despite his lack of firm balance. He grunted again as he bent down to grab the waistline of the jeans to pull it up to his waist. The jeans always showed off his legs and butt, and had only gotten better at doing so thanks to Mirio’s constant training. He could feel them sliding over his muscular bubble butt. He felt relief like this eating adventure was almost over and he could go home and rest.

That is until he went to try to zip up the fly of his pants. His belly had grown enough aside from the first inch and half of his fly near his crotch and snatched waist that the two sides of the fabric refused to meet or be forced together, let alone their marriage at the button at the waistline. The blood drained from his face. Somehow despite having eaten himself to such a state before, it hadn’t occurred to him it would happen and he had tried so hard to prevent this from happening on his internship days. “Oh no, no, no, no…” he started to whimper to himself as he tried once again to zip up the remainder of his fly. He sucked his stomach in, much to it’s annoyance as he burped loudly at the pressure though it was directed at his muscular chest as he was quite focused on looking down even though he couldn’t see the results over his bloated belly. His stomach sloshed around hard as he sucked in again and then let it out. He sucked it in one more time getting up another inch or so of progress on the zipper but any progress he made was immediately lost and his zipper even conceded territory once he let out his inhaled breath and it almost looked like his stomach was even bigger than before.

He then made an ill-advised attempt to try to force his pants higher on his body by jumping up and down, his gut protesting at every shake. The firm and heavy organ seemed delayed as it moved up and down just a bit slower than the rest of Tamaki, making it slosh around like an overfilled barrel. He jumped and tried to pull the two sides of the zipper together at the same time as it only served to make the jeans ride up higher and hug his muscular ass even more. But as soon as he let go, the zipper would spread open like the parting of the Red Sea with his stretched pale flesh filling the gap almost immediately.

Tamaki gave up and sat down on the bench in a huff, dejected that he’d be forced to go home with his pants so exposed. Shirtless and with his belly in his lap he brought his head to his hands as he tried to think of something to do or at least get up the courage to finish dressing to then go out and face the world with his globe of a gut.

However, he never got prepared for that moment, for it was at that point that Kirishima opened the door to the locker room and found the bellied hero sitting there in anxiety ridden despair. “Dude! Look at that monster belly mound! You really do look like you ate the sun! That’s manly as hell,” he said, going up and rubbing Tamaki’s bloated and rounded abs with his hand and poked it to test that it was real. Tamaki let out a soft belch though was almost too dejected to worry about the intrusion of his personal space. “I...ate too much. Why did you keep having me eat?”

“Because you were hungry and you’re eating is crazy awesome and honestly kind of hot. Tell you what, we can get you some dessert on the way home, and I’ll help provide some cover for your belly by walking in front. Besides with your shirt on, I doubt anyone would even notice!” Kirishima said still more focused on Tamaki’s bloated belly than anything else.

“You’d do that for me?” Tamaki asked hopefully. “Sure!” Kirishima said, tossing Tamaki his shirt. “Though I got to say, you’re also looking pumped as hell. Those workouts are really paying off for you.” He commented while Tamaki put on his shirt and sweater and tried to cover most of his belly. It covered his opened pants but it was still very obvious that Tamaki was bloated as hell. Kirishima patted Tamaki hard on the back in a show of friendship but all that did was make Tamaki let out a belch that rattled them metal of all the lockers in the locker room. “Excuse me…” Tamaki croaked out as he wiped away some of the spittle that had come shooting out of his mouth thanks to the extra powerful belch.

“No worries dude! Now let’s think about what to get you for some dessert. By the way, just how much do you think you can fit in that thing? Something extra big?” Kirishima asked, trailing off as they left the agency locker rooms for their dorms, but still no doubt making some additional eating pit stops for them both along the way.

[acourtofsnakes]

Let Me Show You - Bucky Barnes x F! Reader (smut)

Gif by @buckysbarnes

Summary: You and Bucky have been dating for a few months now, and the man has given you everything - literally. One night, Bucky encourages you to let go of your anxiety and let him show you just how sinful that mouth of his can truly be.

Warnings: 18+!!! Brief mention of drinking, Swearing, smut!!: Oral - f receiving, fingering, praise kink, arm kink, (Bucky kink?), unprotected PinV sex, fluff, encouragement

Word Count: 4k+ - I got carried away. 

A/N: Aaahhhh, my first ever request from @kaylee-krystal  I hope I did your idea justice and this is what you were hoping for. I added my own ideas for backstory and such, so I hope it’s okay 🙊thank you again, so, so much for requesting!!! I have reread this a couple times, but I’ve no doubt missed something somewhere, so apologies in advance. 

Masterlist

Permanent Taglist: @greeneyedblondie44 @mamacitapascal @mypedrom @undiscovered-misunderstood

James Buchanan Barnes. 

Now there was a topic you could talk about day and night. 

And probably even in your sleep. 

You’d been dating for a few months now, and everyday was better than the last, even it did sound cliché. 

You’d met in a local Brooklyn bar, having frequented it now and then with your friends for relaxed nights out or after work drinks. 

The first time you’d seen the soldier, he’d been sitting at the bar alone, brooding over a beer. 

It had taken you a few moments, but you’d suddenly realised who it was. 

Bucky Barnes, ex-Winter Soldier, Avenger and now often seen with Sam Wilson. 

THE Bucky Barnes was sitting in your local. 

And instantly he had taken your breath away. 

A set of cheekbones that could cut glass with a jawline to match. Plush lips that looked irresistibly soft - and sinful. 

A tangle of dark hair that was begging to have a pair of hands run through to mess it up. 

You could see the broad line of his shoulders from where you were situated in the booth, and you went home that night imagining everything else about him. 

The next time you saw him, it was about a week later. You were waiting for your friend to arrive and had gone up the bar to get drinks ordered. 

And there he was, just like the last time. 

Only now, you saw that he had a pair of gorgeous eyes, a blue like the Arctic Ocean and just as deep. 

And they were settled on your face with a cheeky little smile, which only grew when you looked at him. 

Moments later, you were seated next to him, lost in conversation about whether the Hobbit was better than Lord of the Rings. 

After laughing at one of his jokes, he’d asked you out on a date, instantly enamoured with the way your eyes lit up like the Brooklyn Bridge and you radiated goodness. 

And the rest was history. 

One date fell into two, and then three, and then just like that... you were dating. 

Boyfriend and girlfriend. 

Picnics in Prospect Park and afternoons at the Smithsonian. 

Nights watching all the movies and tv shows he still needed to catch up on and mornings where you joined him on a run. 

It was beautiful. Sure, you had a few tense moments where you might disagree, or he might have a bad day where memories crept up and he lashed out, but you never backed down. Never ran from him or looked the other way. And he did the same for you. Holding you when you needed him to but firmly expressing himself if you ever went too far. 

It was healthy, enriching and you had both grown so much in just a few months. 

Especially in the intimacy department. 

You weren’t lacking knowledge or experience, not by any means but it was just... some things you were a little uncomfortable with. 

It wasn’t that you had bad memories of the past or had been hurt, it was more a personal thing. 

And you had explained some of these hang-ups to Bucky, who’d taken them all in his stride and been amazing about it. 

When you were in these moments, he would ask if you wanted to try something and if you said no, he respected it and moved on. And if you said yes... well. Then you got a lesson in just how good he could make you feel. 

Bucky had learnt your body in no time at all and... He was mindblowingly good. He knew exactly how to make you cry out his name like a plea, a prayer and a sin all in one. 

It had gotten to the point where you’d drift off in the day, your mind taking you back to the way his lips mouthed over your skin, the way his fingers arched and curled inside your walls just right to reach that spot that hard you arching from the bed all the whole those baby blues were locked onto yours, watching you fall apart with an adoring fire blazing in the blue depths. 

The man only had to give you that killer smile and you’d be instantly soaked. 

He was going to be the death of you one day. 

~~

“Bucky!”

The sound of his name bounced around the walls of your bedroom, high and keening as the fingers of his vibranium hand stroked your inner walls with a relentless rhythm and pleasure. 

“C’mon baby, that’s it..” he mumbled the sweet nothings against your chest, his mouth pressing kisses across your hot skin, over your collarbones and breasts. 

His hair tickled your neck as your tipped your head back, eyes squeezed shut and mouth  parted in pleasure. 

He was working you to your second orgasm of the night already. 

The man had practically pounced on you when you walked through the door of your shared apartment and you were only too willing to drop everything - underwear included - and lose a few hours. 

Your hips jerked against his hand, bucking in time with his fingers. The heel of his hand was pressed to your clit, applying delicious pressure with each pass of your hips as you chased down your release, feeling it coil tighter and tighter in the base of your spine. 

You slid a hand up into his hair, knotting your fingers in the silky chocolate locks “Fuck-“ 

God, you were so close, so, so close-

Bucky already knew, and he scissored his fingers inside you, sucking at your nipple and triggering your orgasm, gently pushing you over that edge. 

Pleasure tore through your body, making your blood sing and his name bounce through the room again. Every single orgasm he gave you made your body catch fire, and you felt it from the crown of your head to the tips of your toes. Through the haze, you heard his lust roughened voice, cooing those praises that only succeeded in making you come harder, “Good girl. Look at you... you look like a goddess. A fucking goddess that deserves to be worshiped every single day.” His hot breath fanned over your skin, “Make me want to do this all the time, give you everything, baby.” 

He kept moving his fingers inside you, the noise filthy and almost forbidden as your slick coated his vibranium fingers. He moved and moved until you pushed lightly at his hand, the sensation almost too much. 

Bucky met your eyes when they opened, and he brought his fingers to his mouth, sucking at them and he moaned low at your taste, a wicked grin spreading around them when you groaned. “I’ll never get tired of this.” 

Of your taste. 

You let out a soft huff of a laugh, feeling your body hum still as you beheld the sight of your boyfriend sucking your juices off his fingers, all dark eyes and ruffled hair. “You will be the death of me one day, you know that right?” 

His chuckle was husky and he kissed your neck gently, “Oh, I know. But you will too, so the feeling is definitely mutual, doll.” 

His lips brushed over your belly button and a ripple of apprehension tickled down your spine and you struggled a little to focus on his words. “Every day since, you just blow me away. Everything you do. The way you’re so determined, the drive you have.” His kissed above your hip bone, tracing his tongue over the skin and he drew a little heart with his saliva, “You make me want to be a better person. You make me feel brave enough to make amends, to let go of my past and accept it.” His words were so heartfelt, so meaningful that they threatened to bring tears to your eyes. 

But then his lips brushed lower, and you knew where this was going. 

He had tried before, a couple of times now in the last few months and each time you’d stopped him. 

And each time, he did so without hesitation and just moved on. 

Your eyes snapped open, spine locking up, “Bucky.” 

Instantly, he stopped. His head lifted as he heard the hesitancy in your voice, the apprehension, “What is it, baby? Are you okay?” His lust-blown eyes were wide, a frown between them as he looked over your face for the cause of you stopping him. He realised what he did and his face softened, “Shit, baby... I’m so sorry.” He pressed a soft kiss to the inside of your thigh. 

Your heart was pounding through your chest and you were convinced he could hear it. “No, I’m sorry. It’s not you... I just... um..” 

Oh, you wished the ground would swallow you up. 

Bucky’s warm, broad hand rubbed soothingly over your thigh and he felt the tremble in your body, “Hey... relax. It’s okay, you don’t need to tell me... .”  

You swallowed, shame tinting your cheeks and you stared at the ceiling light, too afraid to look at him. But he had shared so much with you... and you wanted to share this with him, “No one... no one has ever...” a cringe took over your features, “Gone down on me before.” 

Silence. 

Oh, god. 

Your voice came out quiet, hesitant, “Bucky...?” Gathering your courage, you peered down at him. 

He was staring at you, that frown still between his eyes as he looked over your face. He had his suspicions as to why you didn’t like it, but he was never sure. “Is it because... Have people refused to? Because if they have, they were not worth your time. You are beautiful, completely and utterly beautiful and deserve to have someone worship you like that.” there was a tone to his voice, like he would go and tear into anyone who refused to give you such pleasure. 

Oh. 

Shaking your head quickly, you sat up on your elbows, “No! No, it’s not that. They’ve asked to it’s just... me.” 

It was true. 

You had partners who asked to go down on you all the time but... something in you just couldn’t. You weren’t sure entirely why. 

Whether it was the idea that someone would be so close... there. 

What if you weren’t... pretty enough?

What if you didn’t taste good?

What if.... you did something wrong?

It had always been a bit of a hang-up, and even when your friends described how unbelievable good it felt... you just couldn’t do it. 

Bucky’s eyes danced between your own, as if he could read all of this in your expression. He let go of your thigh, crawling up your body and he slide a hand around your jaw, his fingers resting behind your ear, “Baby... you have nothing to worry about. You are absolutely gorgeous, so, so beautiful. Every single thing you do, it blows my mind.” He stroke his thumb over your cheek, “You can walk to me in sweatpants and my hoodie and I’m struck dumb.” 

You laughed a little despite yourself and he copied you, eyes lighting up when you did, “Having someone go down on you... it’s like the ultimate act of worshiping. You are in control. You tell me when to stop, pull me closer or push me away... On my knees for you, tasting you and taking you to that edge.” He cocked his head, “It’ll feel a little odd at first but when you’re used to it... Oh, doll, it’ll feel so good.” 

His words filtered around you, moving through you. 

You knew he was good at his craft, at reading your body. And you also knew he would never make you feel uncomfortable and he would always stop if you asked him to. 

And god, there was a part of you that so desperately wanted to feel it, to feel someone’s tongue between your folds, moving inside you, between your thighs...

An image came to you, his dark locks nestled between your thighs, rumbling moans vibrating against you as you arched above him...

“Okay.”

He blinked, perhaps not having expected you to accept so quickly., “Are you sure? If you’re not-“

You swallows, lifting your hand to his on your cheek, “I... I want to. Show me. Show me how good it feels.” 

Bucky looked deep into your eyes, checking for himself and when he seemed satisfied, he nodded gently. “Okay... Okay. If you feel uncomfortable, if it hurts or it’s too much, please tell me to stop. Use the safeword, hit the top of my head, kick me, anything. Okay?” 

God, he just cared so much didn’t he. 

Heart melting, you nodded again, a smile mixed of anticipation and a little bit of nervousness on your lips, “Okay. I promise.” 

Sndjcidks djcocks djckc

The approach of your impending third orgasm was almost painful, the heat in your belly tightening impossibly, every single muscle in your body locking up and screaming for release. 

Bucky was there, already reading it in your body and his free arm lifted from across your waist, reaching up and sliding through yours. 

You tightened your fingers around his cool metal ones, your hips now free. 

An instinct came over you, and you began to rock your hips against his face- 

Heat and shame flushed your cheeks and you opened your mouth to apologise, to try and stop your hips from moving - 

But then Bucky let out a rough moan that reverberated through your walls, through your clit and you realised - he liked it. He liked you fucking yourself on his tongue, smearing your slick over his chin and lips. 

Holy fucking god. 

You wanted this, you wanted this all the time, him all other time. 

Bucky rubbed harder at your clit, running tight circles and his tongued slide over your folds and then speared inside you, like white hot fire. The tip of his tongue stroked that spot, that spot that he seemed to have a direct route to and then - you were falling apart. 

Your orgasm barrelled down into you relentlessly, searing through your body and turning you to light and stars and something entirely ethereal. 

It felt like every cell in your body exploded, sending shockwaves of pleasure through you that just didn’t end. 

Bucky took it all, took every ride of your hips, every clench of your thighs around his head and he worked you through it, tongue lapping up your juices like a man starved as you came apart above him. 

He didn’t let you go, holding you steady in the whirlpool of pure sensation as you ever so slowly came down back to Earth. 

You panted softly, your eyes slowly opening to the familiar ceiling of your bedroom. 

Fucking hell. 

Fucking. Hell. 

A stunned laugh escaped your lips and you unclenched your fingers from Bucky’s hair, rubbing over your face. 

He pressed soft kisses to your thighs, trailing up your body and then lightly pressing his lips to yours. 

You could taste yourself on him, and it was intimate and a little filthy and god - you loved it. You loved him. 

Kissing him back with equal fervour, you couldn’t stop grinning. 

Bucky matched your wide smile, his body held up over yours and he brushed back your damp hair, “How do you feel?” Always looking out for you. He pulled away gently from your lips, trailing his mouth over your jaw. 

You chuckled again, breathlessly, “I feel... amazing. Like my body is singing.” You shook your head just slightly in awe, “I don’t know how I’ve gone so long without that. You’re fucking good...” 

You felt his shit-eating grin against your jaw, his teeth lightly nip your skin, “See... I told you. You deserve to be worshipped, baby. And I plan on doing it again and again, on my knees, under you, over you... like the goddess you are.” He brushed his lips over the shell of your ear, his voice a rough, husky whisper, “And I plan to carry on right now.”

The rest of the night fell away as he slipped back inside you effortlessly, and you climbed to the sky together again and again, and all you could think was... This was it. 

You’d only been with him for a few months but in that time he had shown you more than anyone ever had. He had lovingly and carefully peeled back your layers and revealed such a shining light beneath, the light that had always been there and he had seen since that first meeting. 

You wanted this forever, all the time. His love, his trust...

And his lips and tongue. 

[midnightwinterhawk]

I put together a little collection of Sterek and Steter fics for funsies. “Just a few fics”, I thought, “nothing too crazy.” Thirty fics later I had to cut myself off and finalize the list. You can thank @the-cookie-of-doom​ for the inspiration. 

These primarily fall under the Hurt Stiles Stilinski category because I apparently like to see my comfort characters suffer. Most of these have hopeful/happy endings but mind the tags. For reals.

Placed under a cut since I have no self control and this turned into a long post.

Sterek

adore to see your eyes fly by @1001cranes

(11,309 l E)

stiles is a pyromaniac, derek is a sociopath. a match made in some kind of heaven. teen wolf kink meme fill.

take my heart from me by @areiton

(23,188 l NR)

He didn't really mean to adopt Derek's pack of puppies. He didn't mean to make himself important to them.

To Derek.

He just wanted to keep them all safe.

That's all Stiles ever wanted.

"Why Can't You?" by @asterekmess

(3,602 l T)

Now. This was happening now, and he couldn’t be less prepared.

-

After a long night, things between Stiles and his father come to a head.

And You Say You're Alone by bi_leigh_bi

(30,314 l E)

Between the kanima, the Argents, and Peter's untimely return from the dead, everything has fallen apart. Stiles and Derek try to put their lives back together once the crisis has passed. Stiles deals with the aftermath of being tortured, and the distance growing between he and Scott. Derek attempts to become a stronger alpha and keep his pack safe, and that includes Stiles.

A Victory March by @churkey

(2,688 l T)

When Stiles is eight he learns that nothing will be the same. His dad comes home one day after work and sits Stiles down for a talk. He explains that werewolves and all the monsters are real.

They're real and not hiding under anyone's bed.

Bury the Moon by darthjamtart

(16,592 l M)

First things get bad. Then they get worse. Stiles doesn’t know what he’s sacrificed until it’s too late.

Dying is the easy part.

Love's Violent Delights by @dexterous-sinistrous

(10,685 l E)

Derek caught the way the man’s eyes looked over Stiles before lingering on his ass. He waited for the clerk to place the key on the counter before he reacted.

Stiles startled at the loud noise, turning away from the pamphlets in the display box to see Derek pinning the clerk’s head against the counter. He drew in an even breath, looking between the struggling man and Derek.

Derek briefly looked at Stiles, hesitating before he saw the gleam of excitement in Stiles’ eyes and the hint of lust in his scent. “Ever look at him, or any other Omega, like that again, and I’ll slice your eyes out with my claws.” He shoved the man back, not caring of the commotion that was made as he snatched up the key from the counter.

Empty by @discontentedwinter

(48,034 l M)

Jordan Parrish is the new sheriff of Beacon Hills, a town haunted by its past.

Your Vision Borrows Mine by hazyascent

(188,781 l E)

Stiles has encountered a fair share of monsters before, way out of his league - the kinds that children are afraid are hiding in their closets and under the bed.

He’d even become one himself when he was void. The nogitsune was in his house, his body, and his mind.

But the worst monster he’s ever faced took even more from him and got away with it.

It’s why Stiles has never really been as terrified of werewolves and kanimas and darachs as he should have been. They’re really not that scary, relatively speaking, and he has a whole team on his side. They always found a way to win - until they lost someone they really loved.

Stiles doesn’t know how to be normal, not after everything he’s done and everyone he’s hurt. The nogitsune is gone, but another monster is on its heels.

His uncle is back. And Stiles has never felt more alone.

It Was a Wednesday by @isthatbloodonhisshirt

(80,129 l M)

“What happened? Where are you? What’s that sound?”

Derek jumped, having momentarily forgotten Scott was on the phone with him because Stiles had started moving. He’d stalked over to the other side of the cave, still eying Derek warily and growling, then settled protectively over a mass of clothes, leaves and animal innards. It was probably where he was sleeping.

Lovely. No wonder he smelled like death.

“Stiles,” Derek said, answering Scott’s question. Or, one of them, at least.

“Stiles? What do you—Stiles is making that noise?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“How fast do you think you can make it to the south lot of the Preserve?”

Tiny Houses by @ohmyjetsabel-blog

(77,183 l E)

"So this is what Stiles does. He lies in Scott’s bed and waits for Melissa to say she’s found someone to get it out of him, to cure him of the wrongness and the bad, and he dreams.

God, he dreams.

He dreams of fire and swollen bellies and that scene in Alien, of giving birth to jackals through his urethra, the whole horrific nine yards. His head is a terrible place to be, he can’t imagine his stomach is much better, why anyone would want to put a thing inside of it."

I'm There in the Water by @spaceprincessem

(15,878 l T)

“But it’s—” Derek paused, his words unsure, “it’s not like us,” he swallows hard, chin dipping to his chest in frustration, “it’s like a…”

“An abomination,” Stiles finished, nodding his head as he finally lets his gaze really look at Derek since Scott had pulled them from the water.

He suddenly wished he hadn’t because the way Derek looks at him makes Stiles feel like he is ten years old again. Like Derek is seeing him for the first time since they accidentally fell into each other’s orbit all those years ago. Like Stiles isn’t a burden or invisible.

Like he is enough.

Or five times Stiles felt like he was drowning and the one time he finally caught his breath

Gunplay is Not Really Our Kink by theroguesgambit

(2,577 l M)

“The rules to the game are simple. One bullet, six chances. You pick it up and take turns pulling the trigger on the other man, or we gun you both down right now. You play along, only one of you has to die. Fun game, huh?”

--

Derek and Stiles are captured by a group of hunters and forced to play a twisted game that only one of them might walk away from.

The Price by theroguesgambit

(18,452 l M)

Stiles must surrender the most important thing in his life to protect the town… and no one can figure out what it was.

Nieważny by Zethsaire

(2,037 l E)

The pack is gone, everything they've ever cared for destroyed. Now Stiles and Derek hunt the hunters, taking revenge in the only way they know how; blood.

Steter

Make Me Bleed by @asarcasticwitch

(2,304 l E)

Peter’s expression contorts, impressed or surprised, Stiles can't decipher, but the grin on his face proves he’s not exactly disappointed with the unexpected turn of events.

“Which bite exactly were you hoping for, hm?” The older man curls one hand around the back of Stiles’s neck, trailing his thumb along his pale, fragile throat.

Stiles tilts his head back in unyielding submission, giving the wolf no room to debate his sincerity. “I’m sure you can figure it out, Alpha.

Two Roads Converge in a Graveyard Town by @cywscross

(15,645 l T)

The Deadpool brings one more assassin to Beacon Hills. A man's gotta eat after all.

when you're going through hell (keep going for me) by cywscross

(57,022 l T)

Peter is abandoned in the aftermath of the fire, and Eichen House takes ruthless advantage. Six years later, when he's finally able to move again, he finds himself in a cell with a boy in a straitjacket.

(Kate’s biggest mistake was letting Peter live. Eichen House’s biggest mistake was letting Peter meet Stiles.)

Don't Fail Me Now by @discontentedwinter​

(36,315 l E)

Stiles goes to Derek looking for help.

He finds Peter instead.

Peter takes what he's wanted for a very long time.

Sanctuary by DiscontentedWinter

(56,525 l M)

The Hale Wolf Sanctuary isn’t just for wolves.

It turns out it’s for Stilinskis as well.

Bite Down by EclipseWing (@shadow-of-the-eclipse)

(27,586 l M)

In which Stiles is forced to survive the zombie apocalypse with a sociopathic murdering werewolf for company.

Into Eden by @graciebirdie

(12,232 l M)

Stiles deciding to bring home the stray alpha he'd hit with his jeep probably made him certifiable, if it hadn't turned out Peter was as crazy as he was.

Before you let go (and the light takes you in) by Issay

(4,032 l E)

Stiles makes one last errand - goes to leave flowers on all the other graves. Fuck, so many graves. The grief is as endless and as inescapable as the sky.

He goes home and there is a thing wearing his father's face, waiting for him in the kitchen.

Call My Name by KouriArashi ( @gingersnapwolves )

(81,370 l M)

After moving to Beacon Hills, Stiles starts having recurring dreams of a man in some kind of prison, who needs his help. Things get so bad that he ends up in Eichen House, where he finds out that the man is real.

Hide my tears in the rain. by MrsRidcully

(6,865 l M)

After  years spent successfully dodging werewolves, evil spirits and wendigos,  it was a drunk driver who stole his Dad, a drunk driver with a  suspended license and a record sheet as long as Stiles’s arm. Stiles  would have laughed at the irony if he hadn’t been so busy screaming.

In My Veins Like Disease by romanoffbarton

(1,140 l T)

He tries to leave once.

Foreshock by @twothumbsandnostakeincanon

(22,816 l E)

The day Stiles’ mom died, he almost leveled his house.

Not on purpose. Not even by mistake, really. More by instinct.

Since then he's dug his fingers into everything his has left, holding on with desperation.

Desperation never stopped an earthquake.

Your Touch is My Choice by twothumbsandnostakeincanon

(2,171 l T)

The first time John does it, Stiles is two years old and about to run into the road.

“Mieczysław!” Heart pounding, John grabbed him by the back of his neck and got a hand around his tummy, snatching him back. “No, you have to stay away from the road,” he said firmly.

Shameful Company by Whispering_Sumire (@whispering-sumire755)

(38,779 l E)

"Did I turn into a unicorn?" Peter asks dryly, and Stiles glares at him for a moment before the laughter bubbles up, unbidden, nearly unwilling, and he looks so surprised at the sound, his shock dimming it for a moment before it bursts through with even more trembling ferocity. A long, thin, willowy hand curls into a soft fist over his mouth, and he's shaking, frail, more tears falling, but the copper of his eyes are glowing, crinkling around the edges and scrunched with mirth.

"No," Stiles chokes, chuckling wetly. "No, fuck you, a unicorn? What, like, Rainbowcreep? Zombiesparkle?"

[About a year before the fated Hale fire, Peter starts having nightmares that involve a woman with red hair. The nightmares lead to a spell that brings a man back through time, and, eventually, though the time-traveler is traumatized in the most horrific ways, and Peter's never been good with or for people, in general, they develop a bond that neither of them expects.]

Would You Forgive Me If I Called You Hope, Peter Hale? (Hope, By Any Other Name) by Whispering_Sumire

(10,099 l T)

Stiles has scars. He owns that, he accepts it, he's cataloged and memorized every single one, he's hyper fucking aware of them all.

//

"What do you want, Peter?" Having the more untrustworthy of the Pack getting protective weirds him the fuck out, leaves an odd fluttering in his chest, like moths, waiting perilously and suicidally to be burned.

He doesn't like it.

"You're injured," the man says, "and whatever it is, it's put you in enough pain that I nearly fainted when I-"

"- Used your werewolf mojo on me without my permission?" Stiles smirks, and Peter gives him a black look, crossing a leg over his knee and smoothing out some invisible wrinkle on his pants.

"Tell me the truth Stiles, how bad is it?"

[Or: The one where Stiles has scars, is more than a little fucked up, and Peter notices. He helps.]

[admiral-alby]

bob fic recs galore

here’s the fruits of my labour. a working fic rec master-post containing multiple bob ships and many, many amazing fics. the writers in this fandom are absolutely incredible and their talent astounds me every time I read a new fic. all the kudos to y’all. keep on keeping on!

this is a long post. recs and some general notes are under the cut :)

(04/13/21) I’ll do my best to keep this list updated... or I’ll make a part 2 depending on length. if anyone has any recs that are not already listed in this post, please please message me! this is no way an exhaustive list and I’m sure I missed some fantastic fics out there - to get started I mostly just plucked from my bookmarks. I’d be happy to add on new fics for ANY pairing, rare-pairs included. I don’t really have much for rare-pairs in this rec because I haven’t read much yet but that will change soon when I have some more time on my hands to get into them  :)

if you are an author on this list and you would like your work removed from it, please just message me. no explanation necessary I will take it off asap.

I’ll make the disclaimer that while I tried to include some general information about each fic, I did not include tags/warnings. so if you choose a fic, read the tags and proceed at your own discretion.

 @capsparkyspeirs   you’re a lovely human being and this is probably not what you were imagining when I said I’d be happy to rec some fics for you. I admit it got a little out of hand but there’s so many great fics out there I couldn’t stand to choose just a couple to send your way... so you get them all! you inspired me to do this, so this is for you and anyone else who wants to read some great fics but doesn’t know where to start <3

WINNIX (RICHARD WINTERS/LEWIS NIXON)

Long Ago and Far Away (Canon Winnix) by churchkey (Series) Rated T-E / Canon Era / 18013 Words (Total) / 4 Parts / Not Complete

Summary: “A few scenes exploring how Dick and Lew became the timeless cosmic lovers they were born to be.“

*Each part can be read as a stand-alone!

It Happened One Night by raquelelpillo Rated M / Groundhog Day AU / 7704 Words / Complete

Summary: “ Nixon gets the chance to do the day before the big jump over and over and over (or, Every Fandom Needs Groundhog's Day Fic).”

Finding Our Way in the Dark by rilla Rated E / Canon Era / Soulmate AU / 8477 Words / Complete

Summary: “After Dick and Lew share their first kiss in Austria, they open their eyes to find a golden thread binding their wrists together.“

Mutual by miss_grey Rated G / Canon Era / 2105 Words / Complete

Summary: “Dick couldn’t help wondering to himself when exactly Nix had decided that Dick’s personal space had become their mutual space.“

Let Me Be Close by armyofbees  Rated G / Canon Era (Post-War) / 8679 Words / Complete

Summary: “Five things Nix loves about Dick, and one thing Dick loves about Nix.Or,The thing about Nix, Dick is beginning to learn, is that he doesn’t love in halves. Nix loves with everything in him, and sometimes that means moving to the middle of nowhere in Pennsylvania for Dick. Sometimes it means making spaghetti with him because Dick came to New Jersey and planted tomatoes, of all things. Sometimes it means telling without saying.”

Let’s Start the New Year Right by slightlytookish Rated G / Canon Era (Post-War) / 10523 Words / Complete

Summary: “Nix had always been able to pick Dick out of a crowd, even when he was lying on his belly in the dirt two hundred yards away, squinting through binoculars at an entire company of men wearing identical uniforms. It was easier to spot him in the crush of people inside Penn Station, even out of the familiar uniform: the same tall figure, the same bright hair, the same way he always seemed to find Nix just as easily and turn towards him, like an arrow on a compass.”

Lancaster County by raquelelpillo Rated T / AU / 31500 Words / 17 Chapters / Complete

Summary: “Nix is born later. Dick is there. (AU). Set in the summer of 1942 in Lancaster, Pennsylvania.”

**It is part of a series with the other works being small ‘extras’ set through the story. This is the main work. It ends a bit ambiguously.

SPEIRTON (RONALD SPEIRS/CARWOOD LIPTON)

The Desolate House by Howling_Harpy Rated E / Canon Era (Post-War) / 26672 Words / Complete

Summary: “It's been fifteen years since Carwood has last seen or spoken to Speirs when they reunite suddenly at an Easy Company reunion and have both recently relocated back to the US. Carwood has promised to his mother to finish packing and cleaning the family's boarding house that's about to be put up for sale, and on a whim invites Speirs to help him. He didn't expect him to actually show up.”

and you on my mind by seabright Rated E / Canon Era (Post-War) / 11081 Words / Complete

Summary: “’You say that you don’t want any of Easy to know that you’re in Boston but you give me your address.’  Following a relationship through the end of the war and beyond.”

Of Soldiers and Secrets by nanuk_dain Rated E / Canon Era / 62988 Words / 26 Chapters / Complete

Summary: “A series of moments in the life of the Easy men, from Foy until after the war, focussing on the development of the relationship of Carwood Lipton and Ronald Speirs.”

Erasure by Howling_Harpy Rated M / Canon Era (Post-War) / 15255 Words / Complete

Summary: “Carwood takes time off from work to visit his mother to get away from his lonely life in Boston. Ron is deployed to Korea and has been for a long while, and after spending a year alone and even longer lying to everyone, Carwood is not sure he wants to live like this anymore.”

Fluences by masongirl (Series) Rated T-M / Canon Era / Soulmates AU / 12818 Words (Total) / 5 Works / Complete

Summary: “ Soulmate AU in which soulmates can sense each other's emotions if they are close enough.”

**Mainly Speirton centric. Part 2 is Winnix & Part 3 is Shifty/Tab.

A Thousand Kisses by Arwen88 Rated T / Canon Era / 1993 Words / Complete

Summary: “ A late night in Hardigny brings Carwood to the room where Ron is dealing with paperwork, but even with a comfortable bed, he can’t find his peace. Late night chats have Ron showing a side of himself that Carwood had not expected.”

stop the world by languageofthebirds Rated T / Canon Era / 3001 Words / Complete

Summary: “The way his hair fell in mussed waves over his forehead made Carwood want to reach out and run his fingers through it. He was sin personified, in that moment.”

**Did I throw in a shameless self promo? Sure did.

WEBGOTT (JOSEPH LIEBGOTT/DAVID WEBSTER)

rivers always reach the sea by bitchbutter (Series) Rated E / Canon Era / 40790 Words (Total) / 2 Works / Not Complete / Last Updated March 17, 2021

Part 1 Summary: “Joe breaks things off with Web in Austria. Of course, nothing with them is ever that simple.“

Part 2 Summary: “The end of the war could be the end of a lot of things. If Joe could let it be.“

if i know you at all, i know you’ve gone too far by starblessed Rated T / Canon Era / 2654 Words / Complete

Summary: “How many stars d’you think there are, Web?” Joe asks after a moment.David has no damned clue. “A lot,” he answers confidently. “Millions.”“Millions,” echoes Joe. The glittering stars are reflected in his eyes, like black pits sending each beam of light back outward. It’s almost hypnotizing, the way they flicker. If he stares too long, David knows he will get lost in them...  and that doesn't seem like the worst way to go.”

Teller of Tales; Song of Songs by thedastardly Rated E / Canon Era (Post War) / 8352 Words / Complete

Summary: “He hopes that he dreams about the mountaintop tonight. He isn’t in the mood to dream of the water, the shore, the everything after, again.”

the only noise beating out is ours by lakehymn Rated M / Canon Era (Post-War) / 3470 Words / Complete

Summary: “Over the next couple weeks, Webster realizes that Liebgott has effortlessly invaded every corner of his life. Even on the days when he barely sees Liebgott at all, he can always find comic books or packs of cigarettes lying around somewhere. It’s almost disconcerting how ordinary it’s beginning to feel to stumble upon someone else’s belongings in his own house.”

push and pull by LT_Aldo_Raine

Rated T / Modern AU / 4115 Words / Complete

Summary: ““got hands like an ocean, push you out, pull you back in” And David Webster never could resist the ocean. OR: Webster snorted, a sardonic sound that echoed across the hotel room. “You don’t know the first thing about what I need.””

hang in there, baby by rilla Rated M / Modern AU / 3116 Words / Complete

Summary: “Written for the Kisstober prompt 'upside down Spiderman kisses'. '“I don’t know what I was expecting when I asked you what your top fantasy is,” Web says, “but it wasn’t this."'”

In His Wildest Dreams by Impala_Chick Rated E / Canon Era / Dream Sharing AU / 3891 Words / Complete

Summary: “While David is in the hospital, he starts sharing dreams with Liebgott.“

Black Ink on Some Blue Lines by thelastfig Rated E / Canon Era & Post War / 10185 Words / Complete

Summary: “It’s been sixteen years since the letter was written, but it never found its way to the one it was intended for. The thing about secrets is they eat away at you, not all at once but slowly over the years, and you begin to wonder, to play out the what if scenarios in your mind. Instead, David buried it away and pretended like it never existed. He should have killed it, he thinks to himself, not buried it while it still had breath in its lungs. In which David remembers his evolving relationship with Joe over the course of the war and decides to deliver a letter.”

LUZTOYE (GEORGE LUZ/JOSEPH TOYE)

The best laid plans by masongirl (Series) Rated G-E / Modern AU / 52652 Words (Total) / 15 Parts / Complete

Summary: “Modern AU in which Joe and George find each other as college students and build a life together.“

each and every day (of the year) by bruce_the_shark Rated M / Modern AU / 21630 Words / 2 Chapters / Complete

Summary: “Joe grins, lifts his hand from George’s hip to grip him by the chin, twists his face around to catch his lips in a bruising kiss. George relishes in it, likes how the taste of Joe’s preferred brand of liquor mixes with the taste of his own on his tongue. He grins against Joe’s lips, knows it’s going to be a good year.”

Babysitting and Other Rationales by aces_low Rated T / Modern AU / 3267 Words / Complete

Summary: “George Luz is a god damn saint, or at least some kind of kid whisperer. And Joe's just trying to keep his head on straight.”

who let the dogs in? by starblessed Rated T / Modern AU / 1869 Words / Complete

Summary: ““And he heard me shouting and I guess it inspired him or something, cause he full-on charged at me, Joe, and before I could even slam the door, he was just —“ George cuts off with an incoherent noise, gesturing grandly to their front door. “In! And then he was running, and sniffing everything, and exploring our shit, and he peed —““Not on my damn couch,” Joe growls.“No, on the nice carpet. Marking his territory, y’know? Except it’s our territory, but I guess it’s his now, because he won’t freakin’ leave.”

BABEROE (EDWARD HEFFRON/EUGENE ROE)

Call me sweetheart, please? by mariamegale (Series) Rated G-E / Modern AU / 95865 Words (Total) / 12 Works / Complete

Summary: “A not-relationship in the making.”

**Each part could be read as a standalone I suppose... But it’s so worth it to read the whole series!

between the walls by CountlessStars Rated M / Canon Era (Post-War) / 2275 Words / Complete

Summary: “ Eugene decides to paint his living room. It should be easy, it really should, but it doesn't go as planned (in more ways than one).”

Walking Wounded by papersky_pencilstars Rated G / Canon Era / Magic AU / 3501 Words / Complete

Summary: “Prompt: Canon-era; Either Gene or Babe have magic, or both. Maybe magic is known or maybe they need to hide it.”

JOHNNY MARTIN/BULL RANDLEMAN

they don’t know about the up all nights (they don’t know I’ve waited all my life) by PotofCoffee Rated T / Canon Era / 22010 Words / 3 Chapters / Complete

Summary: “ Johnny and Bull throughout the war, in a slow meandering dance you might just call love.”

All My Love to Give by Muccamukk Rated E / Canon Era / 8852 Words / Complete

Summary: “ Johnny wants to screw around to pass the time. Bull wants to show Johnny how he feels without having to risk saying it”

The Red String by Arwen88 Rated M / Canon Era / Soulmates AU / 1834 Words / Complete

Summary: “He had to wrench his gaze away from the sickening sight, from the machine that was probably moments away from killing his soulmate. He would’ve thrown himself under that tank if that meant saving his lover, but he couldn’t do it. He had to take care of his men, and so he forced himself to stop looking, to order his men to retreat, to see that they did what he was screaming at them.“

Over Where You Began Muccamukk Rated E / Canon Era / 2949 Words / Complete

Summary: “ The way Bull saw it, Johnny was mad at him now, and Bull had no idea what he'd done wrong. Maybe it was better to just let it lie, let Johnny come out of whatever angry mood he was in on his own, instead of kicking an ant's nest.”

Simple as a Glass of Chocolate by ThrillingDetectiveTales Rated E / Canon Era / 2600 Words / Complete

Summary: ““It was supposed to be syrup,” Johnny muttered darkly. “Says right there on the can!”“Reckon it started out that way,” Bull shrugged, biting his lip against a smile when Johnny narrowed a glare over his shoulder.(In which Johnny and Bull try to sweeten up their sex life and it doesn't go exactly as planned.)”

CHUCK GRANT/RONALD SPEIRS

to Babel, in ruins by captainkilly Rated T / Canon Era (Post-War) / 5114 Words / Complete

Summary: “Chuck knows recovery isn't a linear event. Knows there are times when words will leave him and the night will place him back beneath the dirt. Knows there are things he just can't speak about.Captain Speirs hears him anyway.”

pulse by captainkilly Rated T / Canon Era  / 4706 Words / Complete

Summary: “ Ron Speirs knows how to kill. Knows how to hurt, how to twist, how to maim. He doesn't think he's figured out how to love, not really, not where it counts the most, but the touches he reserves for Chuck Grant beg to differ.. “

AUTHORS

there are so many authors on this list that have written tons of amazing works for one or multiple pairings. as much as I would have loved to, I couldn’t rec all of their works... I had a hard enough time keeping it down to 3 or less works from the same author! similar to fics, I’ve only linked authors that I am familiar with/know have written multiple fics, so feel free to send me more people to add to the list :)

churchkey - is a sweetheart. has multiple amazing winnix works. she has recently gotten into super rarepair toye/malarkey. godspeed I’ll see you there when I read those fics.

ThrillingDetectiveTales - writes for multiple pairings. all of their works are fantastic! every time I see their name as the author I go !! and know it’s going to be good.

Howling_Harpy - has written so many fics. many different pairings. lots of speirton. they’ve ripped my heart out and made me cry but then gently kissed my forehead and put my heart back. I think that’s praise of the highest order.

masongirl - another fantastic author who has written so many amazing fics. tons of speirton and other ships too. also has made me cry and then quietly wiped my tears away.

mariamegale - baberoe queen. that’s all I have to say. I was tempted to just rec all her baberoe fics. check them out!

Muccamukk - another multi ship, multi works writer. i had a hard time only choosing a few of their fics to rec. they’ve got so much to offer!

Impala_Chick - writes lots of great webgott and other pairings too!

captainkilly - if i could rec all her fics I would. there’s some rarepair pieces that are fantastic. I didn’t list it here because it’s more of a character centric piece with an OFC and a little bit of ron/chuck dashed in mostly at the end, but read her form & void series. seriously. read it. I have nothing else to say because her work speaks for itself.

Arwen88 - another writer for multiple pairings with multiple works! love to see it. some great rarepair stuff and also fantastic popular pairings.

LT_Aldo_Raine - love their work! they write for multiple pairings.

[alderaani]

more than gold

summary:  A lost Jedi Temple, a riddle, some literature, and feelings that Cody isn't ready to speak out loud. | AO3

note: written for @codywanweek and the alt day 5 prompt Sith/Jedi Artefact Shenanigans! sliding in on the last day with one more thing written than expected, so i’m happy with that! i’m pretty ill today so i hope it actually makes some coherent sense 😂 also if the riddle was super obvious, soz, never written one before and turns out it’s really hard.

-

“You know, I could have sworn I told you not to touch that,” Cody says conversationally, from where he’s splayed out on his back.

“Really? I’m sure I didn’t hear you,” Obi-Wan says, cheerful despite being crumpled in a heap. His elbow is in Cody’s gut. Cody glares at him.

The room they’re lying in is circular, stone, carved out of some Forced-damned mountain and according to Obi-wan, practically thrumming with power. The ceiling is high and vaulted, letting in slivers of light where intricate mirror systems catch the sunlight of double suns and project it deep underground. It takes on a slightly blue cast, reflecting off the huge pool of water they were lucky to not fall into. Four walkways at each cardinal point lead to a central platform, and interspersed between them are four waterfalls.

It should be serene. Except now the waterfalls are travelling backwards, and all the doors, including the one they came in by, are blocked. Cody scrambles up onto his elbows, dislodging Obi-Wan with a grunt.

“What did you do?”

Obi-Wan follows his gaze and gasps, delighted. “Now, will you look at that?”

Cody is looking. Frankly, he doesn’t trust this place enough to not keep his eye on it at all times. Obi-Wan keeps saying that this temple was built long ago, by ancient, peaceful Jedi as a place of learning, and that it won’t hurt them. After they got cut off from the rest of their men at the entrance, however, Cody thinks he could be forgiven for having his doubts.

As Obi-Wan himself proves, peace-keeping hardly rules out danger.

“Amazing,” Obi-Wan breathes, hoisting himself to his feet without a second glance, to walk back up to the plinth and stalk round it, examining the incomprehensible runes engraved there.

Cody is left to peel himself off the floor, and instead goes to prod at the barriers now sealing the exits with the end of his blaster. He tries not to look too much at Obi-Wan, at the soft sweep of his hair and the span of his shoulders. Being on their own like this is something he’s avoided, of late - not because he doesn’t enjoy it, but because he’s starting to enjoy it all too much.

He doesn’t trust the way his heart leaps when Obi-Wan smiles, when he asks him to call him ‘Obi-Wan’, when the cycle draws on and they’re up late again, companionably finishing reports and debating strategy. Or, as they had been doing until Cody got cold feet and started finding excuses, debating novels, which Obi-Wan checked out of the Temple archives and read aloud, one chapter at a time, before they turned in for the night.

He doesn’t trust himself not to ruin this by overstepping. There’s something about his general that makes him lose all control of his tongue, and puts him in danger of voicing thoughts that really he should not be having at all.

It’s agony. It’s bliss. It’s stretching him to breaking point, and this is possibly the worst situation they could have ended up in, really.

“These are made out of water,” he says over his shoulder, grunting as he tries to push his blaster through. He is, of course, unsuccessful.

“Ingenious,” Obi-Wan says. “How did they manage that, I wonder?”

Cody cuts a glance back at him, and grins, despite his exasperation.

“You’re not more worried about how we’re going to get out?”

Obi-Wan waves a hand. “I’m sure the path will reveal itself, in time. Oh, look - Cody, I think this is a puzzle!”

Cody bites back a groan. They do not have time for this. They never really had time for it, but Obi-Wan promised it would be a brief detour on their way to the capital for hyperspace lane access negotiations. He’d looked so excited by recon reports of a lost temple that Cody just hadn’t been able to say no. He’s never able to say no to Obi-Wan, even when he isn’t following orders. It’s probably his fatal flaw.

“I don’t suppose there’s an off switch? A back button?” He asks hopelessly. The Force, at least the Jedi sort, very rarely seems to work that way. Obi-Wan is always talking about moving through problems, about seeking balance and adapting to what’s around you, rather than manipulating it. It’s not Cody’s favoured approach; he was trained to leverage his environment to its maximum advantage, and finds he has little patience for anything else.

Obi-Wan snorts. “This is a defensive mechanism, I’m afraid. Judging by the architecture this was built at the height of the Sith Wars. This artefact is designed to trap us here until we understand the mechanism and progress, or until, back when the temple was occupied, someone would come and deal with the intruder.”

“That doesn’t sound very peaceful,” Cody says.

Obi-Wan shoots him an amused look, the warm, soft kind that makes heat rise from the pit of Cody’s belly right up to his ears.

“Even a pacifist may defend himself,” he says, then leans over the pedestal. “Now, how about you stop grousing and come help me with this?”

Cody rolls his eyes, but goes, slinging his blaster across his back and crossing his arms.

“And stop looming,” Obi-Wan laughs, catching one of Cody’s gloved hands and pulling it down to rest at his side. The simple touch makes Cody’s cheeks burn.

“Don’t see what help I can give you, Sir,” he says, frowning down at the characters surrounding the bright blue artefact. “I was never any good at Ithorian.”

Obi-Wan pauses, then tilts his head up. “Ah. Is that what it is?”

“I - I think so?” Cody was never any good at his language flashtraining; he never had the proper patience for it, but he can usually figure out the basics.

“No, no,” Obi-Wan muses, stroking at his beard with his free hand. “You’re quite right. Goodness me, it's been a long time since I last saw this dialect. Let’s see now…”

Cody steps back and waits, keeping his attention firmly split between their blocked exit points while Obi-Wan ponders. The slow upward movement of the waterfalls is eerie - it still makes noise, but none of it is right. Instead of the gentle patter he expects of water joining a larger pool, there’s a faint gurgling as they move further into each grate, travelling somewhere he cannot see.

Obi-Wan finishes his fifth circle round the platform, and the hand at his chin goes still. Cody stands at attention, expectant.

“It’s a riddle,” Obi-Wan says, and if possible, his delight grows. “Yes - the language is coming back to me now. Do you know, I haven’t looked at Ithorian in maybe 12 years?”

“Sir?” Cody says, tilting his head to look at the characters more closely. He doesn’t have even a passing proficiency at modern Ithorian, and presumably it’s changed a bit over the millennia. His training was focused on the basics, and only the useful bits, at that. He thinks he can make out the words for ‘ water ’, and ‘ enemy’ , both of which are either unhelpfully descriptive or frankly discouraging, but that’s about the extent of it.

“My old master - he loved prophecies. When I was a teenager I could never see the point of it, but it meant I spent a lot of time learning the old Ithorian dialects. They’re known as the most peaceful species, did you know?” Obi-Wan shakes his head. “They’ll exile anyone violent, it’s quite remarkable, really. I suppose in some sort of idealistic emulation, a lot of the early Jedi texts are written in their dialect.”

His blue eyes are keen, his laser sharp focus firmly on the podium. It gives Cody a moment to observe his clever fingers, the long line of his neck, the open delight with which he tackles this new problem. It’s a rare thing, to see him so relaxed, and Cody can’t help the fond smile that creeps up on him despite the circumstances. This almost makes it worth it, and on reflection, he’d rather an ancient temple than the last thing that had made Obi-Wan so happy; a wretched, bioluminescent fungus, which had infected half the battalion and given them hives. Their general had studied it for weeks.

Obi-Wan’s lips quirk up. Cody barely trusts himself to speak.

“I didn’t know, Sir,” Cody croaks, then pauses, fishing for something normal to say. “Didn’t we have to defend the governor’s daughter from an Ithorian bounty hunter on Ganaris-IV?”

“Well,” Obi-Wan grins. “Those exiles have to go somewhere, don’t they?”

Cody huffs a laugh and reaches up to scratch his neck at the seam of his bucket.

“Let’s just hope they didn’t all come here. What’s this riddle, then?”

Obi-Wan shifts to the side, then points at a spot on the podium. “As I said, it’s been a long time, but I think it starts here, and goes something like:

A thing to be forged, where water is thicker,

Worth more than gold, unless it’s pyrite that glitters.

An enemy of my enemy, or in hard times, in need,

Sometimes fair-weather, or in high places indeed.

What are you, traveller? ”

All of Cody’s hopes that it would be something nice and obvious, like “lightsaber” or, given what’s going on around them, “gravity”, escape from him like smoke. Jedi and their metaphors. It’s not just a quirk of Obi-Wan’s, clearly.

“Does that mean anything to you, Sir?” he asks, turning the words over in his head once, twice, then frowning when nothing comes immediately.

Obi-Wan’s brow is also furrowed, but in a leisurely, meditative manner.

“...I have some ideas, I think,” he says. “How about you, my friend?”

What does he think? He thinks that there are other sorts of puzzles he is much better suited to. Word play and idioms...what does a clone have to offer that?

Still, Obi-Wan is watching him, expectant and gentle, and he sifts back through the lines, a little more seriously this time.

“Ice, maybe?”

Obi-Wan nods, slowly. “Perhaps. Walk me through it.”

Cody swallows. “Ice is something that can be made, right? It’s not exactly forged, but…”

He trails off in uncertainty.

“Go on,” Obi-Wan says with another one of those soft, devastating smiles. It fractures all the thoughts in Cody’s head, and he has to stop, clear his throat and gather up all the pieces.

“I suppose...it’s just thicker water, isn’t it? On warm planets it’s a valuable commodity, it’s found in high places, and I suppose if you wanted snow, a freeze would be fair weather.”

Obi-Wan is rubbing his beard again, and he’s still smiling. “Fascinating. I would never have thought of that...only, I don’t think it’s quite there. That mention of pyrite is troublesome, and the ‘enemy of my enemy’, where does that fit in?”

Cody shrugs his shoulders, frustrated, and feels a hot flush creep up his neck. “Don’t know why you’re asking me, to be honest, Sir. Kamino hardly covered poetry.”

There’s a slight pause, then Obi-Wan’s hand is on his again, tugging it slowly down from where he’s crossed his arms.

“I wish you wouldn’t do that,” he says, soft.

“Do what?” Cody’s voice is gruff.

“Dismiss yourself. You do it sometimes when we’re reading together. There is often no right and wrong answer to these things, no secret. There is only perspective, and you see things I never would, if only you would trust yourself.”

Cody looks down and away, back towards the waterfalls and their slow, glacial climb. He isn’t sure that’s true. He enjoys what Obi-Wan shares with him, what other lives he gets to touch in their books, but more than anything they convince him that, beyond war, he knows very little of anything at all. He would like to, someday.

His eyes land on Obi-Wan’s lips briefly, before he tears them away. Particular experiences he would like to know more than others.

There was one book that Obi-Wan had read early on, back when this infatuation was just setting its first tendrils into him, about a forbidden romance at the heart of the old Mandalorian court. Two heirs of rival clans battling to be together against the good approval of their noble relatives. It had been torrid, ridiculous and entirely unexpected when Obi-Wan had suggested they break up their reports with some literature.

But what it had done was give him the words to express the crawling heat in his stomach, the urge he has to reach out, to touch, to soothe, to care for. He’d known what he wanted before that, of course, in a more rudimentary manner, but it had gifted him the language of yearning.

Suddenly, a particular passage springs into his mind and he straightens.

“You don’t think it could mean ally, do you? In Beneath the Armour, Mata threatens Clan Riza by saying he has ‘allies in high places’.”

Obi-Wan pauses, and then a brilliant smile spreads over his face. “Yes, that’s it! Pyrite - Fool’s Gold; a false friend! Brilliant Cody, whatever made you think of that?”

Cody grins, even though Obi-Wan can’t see it, and doesn’t answer.

“Is that really it?”

“I think you’re very close,” Obi-Wan says. “The characters engraved into the platform...yes! Stand close to me, Commander.”

Cody does, watching curiously as Obi-Wan lifts his hands, shuts his eyes, frowns, and pushes . Six blocks that make up the platform lift, the characters on each glowing bright, lurid blue. Under their feet, something scrapes, shifts and clunks, before the platform lurches upwards, spinning gently.

There’s a thunderous gurgling sound, before all of the pool beneath drains away.

“The answer,” Obi-Wan says, slightly breathless, his hair a little out of place. “Was friend.”

“The doorways are still blocked,” Cody notes drily. The plinth with the blue orb that started this whole mess has also risen, and underneath it are a set of very wet, slimy looking steps. “I don’t suppose it’s as simple as just walking down these and getting in?”

“Likely not,” Obi-Wan agrees, then inexplicably shifts a little closer, so that they are sharing space. Cody’s heart skips a beat. “But it’s like I told you, Cody. You are far greater than what you have been given.”

Cody coughs and looks at his feet, at their boots almost toe to toe, pleasure at the praise singing low through his body.

“Now,” Obi-Wan says, too close and not close enough. “How do you feel about another puzzle?”

Cody groans, laughing, and after a moment, follows his General into the dark.

[lemonandpeachess]

Small Moments

Pairing: Wrecker x Female Reader

Rating: G

Word Count:2,220

Summary: You and the squad have a little bit of downtime before completing a job from Cid. This time allow you to think ahead for the future of the squad, and of Omega. 

AN: I hope you all enjoy! This is my first bit of writing in a long time so we’re keeping it pretty simple. xx

Gif credits to the owner <3 

The noise was no stranger to you, the deep and seemingly endless drumming above your head. An icy coolness slips into your skin underneath your clothes, your eyes slipping shut at the sensation. While for the most part you enjoy your time on the ship with your crew and it feels just as much of a home as you could ask for, it did have its drawbacks. The closest thing to a simple rainfall you got to experience while cruising through space were meteor showers, and landing in the middle of one of those was not the most relaxing experience. You feel a small, hand wrap itself into your own, giving it a small squeeze. Your eyes cast down and you smile at the sweet brown eyes peering up at you from beneath wet, blonde curls. Omega has her hood over her head, holding down the side with her opposite hand against the wind.

“I sort of missed the rain (y/n).” She says, looking up at the sky and smiling, the raindrops sprinkling down on the two of you. You lift your head back up, sticking out your tongue. Omega looks at you, her brow furrowed. “What are you doing?”

“Catching raindrops. You can do it with snowflakes too. We used to do it on my home planet when I was small.” The tiny clone follows your actions, laughing as she lets go of your hand and makes a show of running around you, catching the water droplets from above.

You were thankful that for both the sake of you and the squad, and for Omega herself, that she had taken the business of being a part of the team so seriously. The young one dove into everything that was ever handed to her, from Hunter’s hand to hand combat routines, to Tech and Echo’s near constant technological learning. She was a fighter, and a determined one at that.

Your heart was heavy at times however, thinking about how she was still a child. She should be able to enjoy the things children enjoy. The sweet, small things that with adulthood and the burdens of growing up, we all tended to forget and appreciate. You took it upon yourself to make your training for Omega to be how enjoy things she could not before, to make her feel like she wasn’t restricted, or stripped of her curiosity. You encouraged it.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, my data shows that the atmosphere on this planet coupled with the local vegetation means excessive consumption of precipitation could lead to harmful side effects.” Tech says as he walks past, guiding his scanner around you as he too gets off the ship. You purse your lips and look down at your small companion once more, chuckling.

“Bit of rain won’t hurt you.” Hunter says as he comes up behind the two of you, handing Omega her small backpack you had found for her at a market during your last job for Cid. You wanted her to have something of her own and found some amenities to put in it as well. Some new fresh clothes, and a small toolkit among other things, including her beloved clone trooper doll. “We should get inside though. Cid said we can stay at her camp here before we continue to the other side of the planet for the exchange tomorrow. We can’t proceed until late morning at least. Best to get some rest while we can.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice Sarge.” Wrecker yells from the belly of the ship. You hear his footsteps as he barrels down the gangway and feel him join you both. He grabs your own pack from your shoulder and puts it over his own, its size shrinking against his broad form. “You and the kid take your time, beautiful. I can take our stuff inside.”

“Wreck I can take that, it’s just a few things.” You laugh, grabbing for your pack. He dodges your efforts and keeps walking forward, turning to wink at you as he follows his brothers. You huff out another laugh and lead Omega towards the cleared path in the forest. “Well, I guess I’ll just escort you then my lady. I’ll get you settled in in Hunter’s room before I join them so we can go over the mission details for tomorrow.”

“Can’t I be there? I want to know what’s going on tomorrow too!” Omega asks, her shoulders slumping down a moment under her cloak. You squeeze her hand and nod.

“Alright Omega, you can come with me. We’ll drop your pack off and then find our way. Just be weary. I’m not sure what kind of mission this will be or what Hunter’s plans for you are. This may be one you need to sit out, for all I know the both of us might be sticking behind. You’re a part of the squad so I see no issue of you being there. Just be ready to play the part Hunter and the others have planned.” You tell her. Thankfully, Hunter had begun to allow her a little more freedom with her involvement in missions. There were still runs Cid sent you on however that weren’t worth the risk.

“I promise I will!” She says, saluting you. You look ahead as a clearing broke out of the path and you see a glassed-in observatory style station come into view. It looked like a two-story home, perfectly rectangular in shape. The walls were made completely of glass, save for the metal framing around the edges and planforms, holding the building above the ground. You imagined the views of the forest were breathtaking from inside. You had to give it to her, Cid had taste. 

“(y/n)? Can I ask just one question before we go in?”

“Go on Omega, I’m listening.” You answer, still looking towards your quarters for the night.

“What are snowflakes?” ***** You sigh as you enter the code to your keypad Wrecker directly behind you as you all retired to your rooms after the mission briefing. Omega left in happy spirits with Hunter as he had a part for her to play in this mission, the situation being a simple drop-off of supplies with payment, nothing too messy. Since Omega had paid off all your debt with Cid, you were able to stick to more low-profile jobs while you figured out a new plan regarding Omega’s safety and the unsettling end of the war.

“The kid seemed happy that she has a job to do with us. I like when she’s able to come out in the field with us.” Wrecker says, starting to take off his uniform. You cross your arms over your chest, still a little chilled from the rain as you look out. You were right before, as the whole building, including your room, was surrounded by windows. Thick, one-way, bulletproof windows, as Tech made sure to point out, given who owned it. It really was a beautiful sight.

The view made it easy to look out into the forest, the leaves on the branches, bright from the rain and crisp air. The foliage swayed back and forth with the wind, creating the most soothing hushing sound, mother natures lullaby. Accompanied of course by what had to be some type of owls, their deep calls coming from their nests in the surrounding trees. Open space had a soothing effect to most. It’s infinite darkness with specks of light, but to you, it was far too quiet. No outside noises penetrated the thick hull of the Havoc Marauder, only the synthetic beeps and whirs of the engines going off in the night could soothe you in the deafening moments.

“I know that ain’t true, you smacked me in the face with your pillow the other night cause you said I was snorin’ too loudly.” Wrecker points out, lifting his chest piece over his head, his upper body now free of the extra weight. You hadn’t realized that you were thinking out loud, though you often did it around Wrecker. He was your partner, for a couple years now. Hunter, Crosshair, Tech, and Echo you trusted with your life. With Wrecker, you trusted him with your life and your heart. You take his chest piece from his hand and set it in the trunk he had carried in along with your bag. “

That is different!” You laugh, coming back to take the final pieces of his suit, leaving him just in his black thermal set. You lay the final piece into the trunk and sit on a chair that faces the windows. “This place reminds me of things I love. The birds, the trees, the smell of the rain. You can’t find that in space big guy. I’m glad we’re able to take Omega with us to these different planets and worlds. It’s important she knows about the world and everything in it. Good and bad. I just try my bests to let her see the good to remember during those bad times. She’s going to have to fight for a lot in her life, an unfair amount…”

“Hey, listen-“You feel Wrecker stand behind you, putting one hand on your shoulder and gesturing for your other one. You put your hand in his and bring the warm top side of his to your lips, kissing it gently. His hands dwarfed your own, as he did most parts of you. You were always safe when you were with him, and you knew if he wasn’t near, it wouldn’t take much to have him barreling towards you at any moment when you needed him. “We’re gonna look after Omega. We made it this far, I’ll stand in front of anyone that tries to hurt her… Or take her away.”

“I know you would Wreck, we all would. She just adores and admires you all.” You say, his fingers grazing your cheek as you speak. You were honest too. If your run in with the bounty hunters wasn’t enough, you knew in your heart that child was probably the most protected thing in the galaxy.

“She likes you a lot too ya know. She tells me all the time.”

“Does she?” You smile to yourself. The word ‘love’ was seldom used around the ship, usually only regarding Mantell mix by a select few. The feeling was always present of course, the brothers all loved each other, and as the time went on, it extended to both yourself and Omega as well. Wrecker had told you after he told you he loved you for the first time in your relationship, that it was the first time he had said it to someone in such a way.

“She does. She thinks your beautiful, and smart and kind. I like her, she’s a smart kid.” Wrecker lets go of your hand and comes around to the front of your chair. You barely have a moment to look up before he picks you up into his arms like you were nothing, carrying you to the plush bed that was made up in the middle of the room. He sets you down gently and crawls into bed with you. 

“Cause I think you’re beautiful, kind, and smart too.”

You laugh and prop yourself up a little more as Wrecker settles beside you, who is also sitting up to look at you. You extend your hand and cradle his face in your hand, your thumb brushing along his cheekbone. Before you can reply you feel a yawn manifest in your throat before it escapes, your hand covering your mouth as you try and keep your gaze on your favourite trooper.

“Am I that boring?” He chuckles. You swing your legs back over the edge of the bed, starting to unhook your boots. Wrecker gets up from the bed again and walks to your pack, grabbing your sleep pants from it.

“No Wreck of course not. I’m sorry, I just feel really tired suddenly.” You reply, pulling off your boots and setting them beside the bed, keeping them close just in case. You feel his hands slip under your shirt and you let him lift the fabric from your body, leaving you in just a worn sports bra. As you wiggle out of your tactical pants, he hands you the black sweatpants and you slip them on, relishing in the feel of the soft fabric. You never seem to realize how tired your body is until you properly stop for a moment.

“It’s okay baby, it’s been a while since we had a break. Even when we do, you’re always doing something for us, or for Omega.” He says, joining you in bed again. You lay back on his chest, relaxing into him as you look out the array of windows and out into the wilderness around you. You wished you had time to explore more, and to enjoy your time there, but you could already feel sleep tugging you down, not being helped by Wrecker’s fingers grazing up and down you arm.

“I know- but I still wish we had some extra time. We haven’t had a lot of time together either, just the two of us. I’m sorry I’m wasting it.” You sigh, fingers dancing over his chest.

“Don’t worry (y/n).”  Wrecker takes his arm around you and rolls you onto his chest, almost laying you almost on top of him, kissing that spot on your neck that makes your heart thrum. “There’s always the morning. You know how much I like breakfast.”

[bronwiebear-brad]

Somebody to you - 1/3.

Warnings: this fictional story will include mature content, language, and themes including but not limited to violence and nsfw content. Storie line before covid. The male lead bears no likeness to the real Brad Simpson apart from PHYSICAL APPEARANCE. Please if you’re not confortable with this type of content, do NOT read. You were advised.

A/N: this is my first time writing stuff this big, sorry in advance if you find any mistake and thank you for supporting. Also this was supposed to leave early but tumblr wasn't posting, so sorry for that. Lots of love x.

Wet curls staining the pillow on your lap, as your fingers delicately undid the knots. The television was muted and the only audible sound in the appartment was the calm breaths that came out of his mouth, peacefully sleeping. The small cuts over his eyebrow and nose caught your attention as they started to turn purple. Your mind running along the possible scenarios you've heard from him about what really happened to leave him in this state all beaten up. They were playing over and over again, leaving you awake and wondering what you got yourself into.

The day you moved into your apartment you knew life would change for the best. Third year of college and you've managed to find a nice paid internship. Sure it wasn't the ultimate dream job but helped you paid your bills and live a pretty decent city life out of that crowded university dorm. You got your three girl friends helping you with the boxes the next days in exchange of paid dinner and wine and the night was spent with gossiping and laughing. Not until your friend Jo got glued to the front door of the apartment on her way to get the pizzas, peering through the monocle as she stood on her toes. The rest of the group, Steph and Lizzie, tryed to peek tru the same hole bumping on each other and arguing to be the first to watch the pretty heated make out session in the hallway. 

"Oh that must be my next door neighbour. Brad." You simple said walking back into the living room that was also the kitchen and your work space, since the house was not that big. The three girls following you intrigued and excited to know more about the misterious boy who was literally eating some girl face agaisnt his front door. 

"Just my next door neighbour?" Steph asked taking her previous spot at the couch. 

"He's ...exciting." Jo was the most interested about the boy asking you more details. The other girls gasp excited sitting on the floor ready to listen more about this guy.

"I know his name because the girls he brings home almost everynight shout pretty loud. Just in luck his bedroom is in the oposite wall of my bed." You explained rolling your eyes and the face of the three girls lit up, giggling and begging for more gossip. You’ve met him a few times when he held the front door only exchanging Good Mornins or Good Nights in that thick accent of his that you couldn’t figure out yet. Little they knew that later that night after everyone went home and you stood on the couch trying to get some work done on your computer and got disturbed by loud music and people talking that you got the courage to actually knock on his door. 

“Are you the stripper?”“ A blonde guy with short hair opened the door. He looked at you from head to toe leaving you unconfortable and frowned, a plastic cup on his hand. “Kinda basic if you ask me but you’re cute” He said to someone else inside the house and a few guys laughed. Your cheeks turned red and you tought about aborting the mission.

“I’m not a stripper.” You told him quietly and he laughed loud making you cringe. You weren’t sure anymore if this was a good idea but it was late now. “I’m searching for Brad, please.” 

“Go find him.” The boy rolled his eyes and disapeared out of your sight. He left the front door open and you took your chance to come in. The music got louder and you were pretty sure the neighbours would soon complain. The smell of cigarettes and alcohol made you crunch your nose and besides the people dancing, talking and playing poker by the dinner table, you notice a few smoking some weird stuff. That place look like a frat house and you really wanted to leave as soon as possible.

You noticed him when you got into the kitchen were he was preparing some drinks. His eyes never left his task. You took a change to have a propper look at him and see what the girls were so fuss about. His hair was nicely brushed back and he was wearing some black jeans and a clean white tshirt. His hands worked on the glasses making you notice his rings and how muscular he was. He wasnt that much fit but his body had a nice shape. His cheeks were rosy and the way he trapped his bottom lip between his teeth concentrated made you realise that he was pretty. He was actually very handsome.

 “Are you going to talk or what?” He sounded playfull and sarcastic. When you look at his face after jumping on your spot he was looking directly to you, smiling.

“Hm y-yeah. I-”. You tried to talk but got embarassed for being caught checking him out. Your cheeks started to blush and you hated yourself for that. You were suposed to act mad and cold to complain about the noise that was disturbing your work session.

“Nice pants.” He laughed pointing at your pijama pants. You blushed even more and condemned yourself for not exchanging clothes before leaving the house. When your eyes crossed again you were about to explode. His glance was so intense that he left you with a cold sensation on your belly. Also the wine you took previously was starting to leave your system and the courage too.  

“Thanks.” You displayed a small smile and he blinked at you.

“Anytime. Did you come for the party?” He asked before taking a shot. Your eyes followed his moves and how he placed the glass carefuly back on the table. “Here, have one shot.". He offered you a glass and you were ready to refuse.

“ No and no. I’m here because of the noise actually.”  You said bitting your cheek and expecting him to brust out. Instead he just smiled widely and took the shot he held in his hand.

“Of course." He said sarcastically after passing by you and leaving you alone in the kitchen. You stood there a few seconds in disbelief. Is this guy for real? You tought to yourself.

“What-what do you mean?” You followed him as he passed thru the people and handed them the shots.

“I mean of course you’re here for the noise.” He didn’t bother looking at you. 

“So you’re aware you’re bothering other people” You said frowning. This guy was an assole after all. Predictable. He stop walking and turned to you, smirking.

“Darling, don’t you like to listen good music?” He asked closer to you, due to music.The nickname caught you by surprise. 

“Yeah but-” You tried to explain but he interrupted.

“So you’re welcome” He laughed. His breatth tickling your ear. “Now, have a shot. Please, cortesy of the house.” He grabbed your hand and made you grab the last shot. His hand was still touching yours as you got lost in his boyish smile. Skin on fire and your heartbeat raced as you notice a good song playing in the background. 

“On three, let’s go.”  He started to count, a bottle of beer on his hand that he grabbed from the table while he made eye contact with you. You didn’t knew what got into you because when the count got to an end you took the shot. The green liquid burning your troat and making you frown and cough hard. “Easy, easy take a sip. It’ll ease the burn.” He offered his own beer, raising himself the bottle for you to drink while one hand caressed smothly your back. Your eyes lock on his and he smiled at your red cheeks. 

“Thank you.” You said bitting your lip. This was all so overwhelming and new that you got embarrassed. “I should get going.” You pointed to the door and got ready to leave. 

“I’m (y/n).” You shook his hand and for a minute you both stood in the middle of the living room in silence, skins touching. 

“Wait.” He prevented you from leaving. “I don’t think I know your name. I’m Brad.” He raised an eyebrow and offered his hand to shake. You look at his hand on the air and his face. Should you grab his hand again? You were still recovering from the interaction that happen seconds ago.

Oh fuck it.

It was hard to leave after that but it felt like you ran your way into your apartment. Locking the door behind you and leaning agaisnt it with a goofly smile recovering. 

“So, I’ll see you around, darling.” He said smiling and squeezing your hand slighly.

That nickname again...

The bloody and wounded lower lip, which had begun to swell, contrasted the shape of the curves of his smile. He should smile more. You tought getting a memory of him smiling directly at you in a previous occasion. The smell of soap from the clean clothes you gave him to change invaded your senses and made you  get out of the couch carefully not to wake him. The mess on the bathroom floor caught your attention and since sleep had long been interrupted you decided to clean it up.

As you rub the little drops of blood from the floor tiles you couldn't stop reliving the previous events. The more it went on inside your brain the intensity of the rubbing increased...

A big tud came from the front door. Someone knocking violently and desperately. Making your immediately wake up and get up from the bed.. 

“It's me, open up!". You heard your name being called behind the door. The familiar voice made you open the door in a glance. A tall boy with a mix blond-pink dyed hair and a pierced nose looked surprised that you really opened the door at such hours. It was a long time since the last time you saw him, he sure was diferent. Not leaving you time to ask what he was doing or what was happening he talked frenetic. "It's Brad. He's...". His expression changed intensively and that scared you, even more than before. "He just wants to see you. Keeps saying your name over and over. So I brought him here. I know he doesn't live here anymore but he insisted." He pointed to the stairs and you notice the shade of someone sitting on them. "I hope you don’t mind. I know what happened between you two but". You dind’t had time to process what was happening but he kept explaining. "He's pretty hammered. It's bad." Tris indicated as soon as you passed the front door and headed the familiar shape. Him following you closely.

This wasn't the first time you took care of drunken Brad. A few times during your somehow relation and after heated arguments when he showed up at your door begging and causing a scene. So this wasn't new. You tought to yourself getting angry.

Grunts of pain and curses could be heard in the hall and when you came across the scene your heart sank. There he was sitting on the floor leaning against the wall and clinging to the right side of his ribs. His white shirt stained with drops of blood that you didn’t know if it was his or from others. An almost empty bottle was placed on the floor beside him. He looked in bad shape. Dark spots under his eyes and bigger hair. Reminding you that uncountable times when you asked him to let his hair grow and he would just laughed it off saying he liked it short.

"Oh hey beautifull.." He called you as soon as he saw you. His voice was hoarse and shaky and with a hint of surprise that you were really there. Mixed feelings as he looked at your intire body. He still got an effect on you after 2 months.

"What happened Brad?." You asked cold, kneeling down next to his legs to watch the cuts carefully. Your hands were shaking with nervousness and fear but you tried to hide them in your pockets. Your eyes darting to his hands and seeing purple marks on the knots. Indicating what you fear the most, he was fighting again.

“I broke the asshole into fucking pieces!” He said proudly, his voice echoing in the hall. His breath smelled like alcohol and that made you put the pieces together. He was completely drunk to the point where he couldn't even keep his eyes open or walk properly. “The sucker thought he took me for granted.” He kept talking, his voice was angrier remembering the events. “Nobody fucks with Brad.” He grabbed the bottle and brought it to his mouth drinking what was left of it. When he took it out of his mouth he looked at you smirking. “But not you, angel.” The nickname made your stomach turn. “You can fuck me anytime." He started laughing but stopped right away when his ribs started to hurt.

"Alright let's get you inside." You said moving to help him out of the stairs and preventing the neighbors to call the police about the noise since it was 4 am. Tristan helped you by grabing his left arm while you stood on the right. Loud curses left Brad's mouth as he was obligated to move and somehow walk a few meters until your apartment and into the bathroom.

You turned to Tristan who had a serious expression on his face asking what had happened. He seemed quiet and you assumed he was probably drunk too but at least he was controlling it.

“He fucked up”. Tristan gesture you. “We where at Urban’s pub downtown when Marcus came in with his shitty gang. We had a few bottles already and-” He was interrupted by a loud grount from Brad.

“Tris, shut up” Brad warned his friend with a deadly glare.

“Keep going, Tristan.". You demand to the blonde boy and ignoring the brunette. At this point you just wanted to know how he got into this mess. You took a quick glance to the drunken boy who settled himself on the bathroom floor, back into the tub tiles. A thin line of blood coming out of his nose.

“They came out hard, unnoticed, starting to-” Tristan got interrupted again. This time aggressively.

“Shut the fuck up, asshole!” Brad shout from the floor and his angry voice made you jump. How can someone change so fast from giggly drunk to angry in matter of seconds.

“Mate, she needs to know!” Tristan protested. “Look at your fucking state, you probably need to get to the hospital".

“And you need to get the fuck out!” He pointed to the door. "Leave Tris, I don't need you anymore". He demanded and the blonde looked at you searching for an answer. You stood quiet looking at the interaction not knowing what to say. "Just fucking leave already."

“I..I will get first aid it’s... uh it’s in my kitchen.” You weren't ready to be left alone with him. It all becoming to real and scary. Tristan followed you outside and gave you a apologetic smile before heading out. Telling you to call him if you needed anything and apologizing his friend stubborn ass.

Back into the bathroom you knelled down closer to the boy and opened the aid. Nether of you exchanging words as you took out a few dressings and bandages. Him watching you closely as put some scar cleaning into one of the dressings and handed it to him. His fingers brushed yours slightly making you nervous.

"You might need to get to the hospital." You simple said looking at his face.

“No. I don’t.” He grunted as his hand move to his face to clean himself. The strong pain on his side stopped him and made him cry in pain.

 "Here." You offered your help as you took the dressing out of his hand and carefully applyied it on his eyebrow. Your face coming closer to his. He was looking at you and licked his lips You could feel his hot breath on your face, intoxicating you and making you more and more nervous.

"Don’t be nervous”. It was surprising that he still managed to know you so damn well. He grabbed your hands and that action made you soften a lil. His eyes were less darker than before.

"Are you going to tell me what happened?" You asked.

"No." His answer made your roll your eyes. Unbelievable this guy was the same after all. “Your hair looks diferent.” He changed the subject but you ignored. 

"I’m going to take your shirt off I want to see your ribs. It might be broken." You demand getting far from him. You were starting to get annoyed by the fact he wasn’t helping you to help him.

"How do you know all of this?" He asked curious while you grabbed the end of the tshirt and lifted it slowly. His necklace falling into his tanned chest and your heart softed seing the silver object still on him.

"My cousin made the whole family took a first-aid course when she was pregnant." You explained analizing his right side. “Doesn’t look broken but i’m going to bind it with plasters to relieve your pain and for you to move better.”.

“Thank you, (y/n).” He tried to grab your hand but you were fast enought to move. “Ouch.” He played offended by your reaction.

“I don’t think you’re in the position of acting offended here.” You weren’t making eye contact with him and that pissed him.

“Look I know I fucked up. I fucked up good. I really did. But here you are helping me. That’s got to mean something.” He said an hint of hope in his voice making you stop what you were doing and look at him frowning. 

“You came into my work and beat my colleague just because he was texting me.” 

“I didn’t beat him.” 

“You’ve threaten him. Agressively.” 

“That’s not beating.” 

“That’s violence.” He stood silent. You knew you had win this one so you continued. “You knew how I felt about you being like that and you ignore it. You didn’t trust me after I told you I didn’t cared. I cared only about you. You were everything.

You could tell he was sobering up slowly. His face changed to regret and hurt. You know that inside his head he was blaming himself.

“Damn it Brad, you show up at my door at 3am all beaten up and looking like a absolute mess. And you still want me to believe that you’ve changed? That this mean something?”.You raised your voice. 

He was starting to get angry at himself knowing that every word you were saying were true. So he decided it was better to leave, coming here was wrong. He tried to get up to leave between grunts. 

“You’re not going anywhere. I’m not finshed.” He stopped and looked at you as you sat carefully on his legs to prevent him from moving.

“What are y-” 

“Shut up Brad, I’m trying to fix you.” You cut his words since the patience was coming to an end and quickly applyed the plasters. Earning a few curses on the way. “Now you’re done. I’m going to make us tea. Meanwhile you should take a shower to sobber up. I’l be waiting for you if you really want to talk.” You were surprise by your audacity to control the situation. Getting up off the floor right after and leaving the bathroom.

He stood there disbelief, enjoying and surprised by this new you.

The one he didn’t knew.

Yet.

[rattlerinthewheel]

Beast of Our Behaviors: Scud/OMC

Scud and a friend hang out like old times.

For a prompt request by @pandoratriestowritestuff: 9) "I don't care how good it feels, you'd better not cum until I tell you to" and 13) "Touch yourself for me", taken from @palettes-and-prompts’ 100 Smut Dialogue Prompts.

Fic title is a song from The Crystal Method.

Chapter title is lyrics from TCM and Bubba Sparxxx’s PHDream, which is what Scud has playing when he meets Whistler.

- - -

"Old man, fuckin’ prick. Ain’t even around yet and he’s pissing me off. 'He’d do this, he’d do that.' Bullshit."

Something about one of his bosses not being around, and they’re looking for him, Marley thinks. He isn’t sure, he’s been zoning in and out, letting Josh vent.

Marley lets his head go ragdoll-limp and flop on the lump of beanbag his weight’s rearranged. Just getting a hazy picture of dark shapes, so he blinks, and then he can make out a pair of pacing red denim legs. They’re baggy and hide the feet, except for the toes of the white socks. The only bright thing in the studio, with the lights off, except the crummy TV playing some DVD the guy on the street said was popular overseas (didn’t tell him it wasn’t in English, the asswipe, so it’s reduced to background noise rather than entertainment).

The pacing halts, blocking half of the yellow-haired chatterbox, and a sigh freshens the earthy reek that was just beginning to fade. He pulls it in, a deep inhale, like he isn’t high enough already. Not like second-hand does much for him.

Any kind of it. Emotions included, which is why he ignores the grumbling and reaches out, fingers wavering because his world’s inverted, to snag the hem of the pants. "Jus’ tell him to fuck off, then."

The denim kicks free. Marley goes for it again, getting a better grip, ignoring the, "Quit bein’ an ass," as the denim kicks again but can’t get loose.

"Point’a you coming over if you’re just gonna bitch?" Marley asks. Something in his neck aches as he lifts his head to look up at the face that owns the denim he’s latched on to. "Thought we were gonna do shit."

"We always do shit," chapped lips huff.

Marley licks his own. Inspired, forgetting about the denim, he fumbles off his bean bag and drops to his haunches in front of his mini fridge. Bristling with anything a stoner could want (well, the shit that doesn’t need to be cold is piled on top) but all he goes for is a soda. He thinks he read something once about it dehydrating more than doing him any good, but he’s pretty sure that’s bullshit. It’s cold going down and wets his lips, how couldn’t a drink hydrate?

Government bullshit.

But when Marley turns around, his seat’s been stolen. He doesn’t mind the view it gets him: Josh, splayed out across the chair, an angry starfish. His joint’s in one hand, sagging in a half-assed pinch between his middle and ring finger, and Marley would worry about the carpet catching if he wasn’t drawn to the point where those sprawled legs lead.

Haven’t done shit yet, might as well, so he takes one big swig of his soda, jams it up on top of the fridge between two bags of chips, and pounces—if crawling over on his hands and knees and pawing at the practically-offered bulge could be considered a pounce. A stoner’s pounce, he decides: lazy and slow.

"Mm, thought you’d never," Josh hums, and Marley scoffs and elbows his thigh.

"Been tryin’," Marley grumbles as he pries away the zipper, then the boxers beneath, to get at the stiffy that’s just beginning to take. It’s easy to pull it out, get the foreskin down, and he gets in three slow pumps on his own before Josh starts to arch into his hand. "So now you wanna."

"Man," Josh pants, somehow going boneless and tense at the same time: his limbs melt while his body goes rigid. It gives Marley something to work against, and the sigh a slower pump earns puffs the hit Josh takes up into the stuffy apartment air.

"Gimme," Marley tells him, thrusts stumbling as he reaches for the joint with his free hand.

The end’s bitten and wet but he gets his lungs filled with earthy smoke anyway, and he forces them to hold it longer than he usually would’ve. When Marley does let it go he’s dizzy, and he wavers on his knees and has to grab one of Josh’s thighs.

The joint sticks out between his fingers, wagging with him, and Josh hisses as it bobs dangerously close to his cock. "Watch it."

Marley giggles as Josh reaches for the joint for another hit. It’s a brief fight, because Marley knows Josh was hogging it way too damn much and Josh doesn’t want to interrupt the hand job. In the end he’s got the joint back in his mouth, and he’s not a starfish anymore, propped up on his elbows so he can watch. Marley doesn’t mind an audience, so he gives Josh a show.

"Fuck," comes on the heels of his thumb swirling around the head, then his palm taking its place so his fingers can drape down and stroke up. That doesn’t get as much of a reaction, so Marley goes back to his first grip. The firm, sluggish stroke down to the base mashes his hand into the blonde curls springing around it.

Josh bucks his hips again, and Marley freezes, near the tip this time. "Behave," he teases.

Blue eyes lock onto brown and Josh growls, "Y’want me to do you after? Keep goin’."

Marley giggles again, a true high giggle, as Josh tugs him forward so he’s close enough to kiss. It’s awkward, the joint getting shoved to the corner of Josh’s mouth, singing their cheeks. But it’s good, because that means Marley gets a mouthful of earthy smoke on top of the sugar of the donuts they scarfed down earlier.

Josh’s cock twitches in his grip when he leans forward enough that his own stiffy, clothed, bumps it. "Uh uh, you ain’t finishing unless I say."

And Josh snorts at that, and Marley can’t keep his composure. He outright laughs and topples onto the stoner under him, kissing him harder, forgetting about the hand job. Josh doesn’t, grinding under him, which reminds Marley that yeah, right, he’s got one too. Funny how weed can make him forget that. It aches, like he’s going to explode right there, now that he remembers.

"Touch yourself," Josh pants as Marley’s rucking up his band shirt. It’s awkward, with how he’s straddling Josh, his legs kind of holding him and kind of not. Too much distance, the bean bag and body puts between the floor and his hips.

Marley’s too busy running his fingers over the scars webbing the exposed belly to pay attention; a pinch to his hip makes him jump, and he’s scrambling for his own fly as Josh watches, smoke fogging his face, but Marley can still see the tongue poking out in the corner that means he’s concentrating.

"Cute," Josh teases as Marley gets his jeans down as much as he can while keeping his position—because right, his zipper’s busted, damn—but pauses to scowl. "What? They are."

Marley scoffs and parts his boxers briefs—ignoring the red, yellow, and green zig zags; so what if they’re stoner colors, they were a gag gift someone got him, they fit, so why not use ‘em?—and groans when he plants one hand on Josh’s shoulder to brace himself and starts to stroke. Easy to ignore, when he wasn’t getting too much stimulation; but now, shit, he’s shaking and greedy and gladly lets Josh paw at him to help.

They get in their scuffles, know how to fight, but it’s not too often they resort to it; not now, either, but the rough pets make Marley shudder, the lack of lube, the tugs that rut his balls against Josh’s pinned shaft under him. They’re both getting off, this way.

"Not till I say so," he hums when he feels it—pre-cum, not his, making a damp spot on the thigh of his boxer briefs.

Josh hisses, holding out. Marley gasps as Josh’s other hand clamps onto the back of his neck, holding him down so Josh can buck his hips up. Josh’s cock slides along his thigh, up onto his hip, and Marley angles them down to trap the rut.

The carpet’s concrete compared to the bean bag as Josh flips them. "What was that about not being a fighter, Fromeyer?"

A scoff pants into his neck as Josh tucks in to nip. "Scud, like stud, dammit. Dunno why you don’t just call me that."

"Because it’s stupid," Marley grunts as Josh picks up the pace.

They’re grinding like horny teens, kissing and pawing, but fuck it—Josh’s got work now, and it’s been a while. Probably will be, again, before they can do this again. Hopefully his hardass bosses don’t drug test.

Josh’s leaving a bigger damp spot on his thigh as he trembles and finishes. Marley’s on his heels, getting that band shirt dirty, he’ll get bitched at for that. But for now, he’s content to just let the other stoner lie on top of him. They’re trapping the mess, getting it over more of them, but fuck it. They’re high, and Marley sighs, and grabs for the joint that’s been left smoldering on the carpet. Landlord’s an asshole, anyway. Can deal with it when his lease is up.

Marley snatches his fingers back as a boot grinds the joint to nothing. He yelps, and Josh fumbles and swears. The unfazed face above them tracks Josh as he gets to his knees, no real shame as he tucks himself away, then to his feet, gesturing at their intruder but not kicking his ass. Knows him, apparently.

"B? The fuck, man?" Josh hisses. Yeah, he knows him.

Marley isn’t as brave, and his high tanks as he blushes and tries to make it look like he doesn’t have white striping his thigh, smearing his hip. He stuffs himself away, at least, in time for the black dude to finally look at him.

"Uh, hi." And because Marley vaguely remembers manners, he points to his fridge: "Pretzels?"

Which feels wrong to ask this guy, somehow. Doesn’t fit with the vibe the room’s got now. He’s still a little high.

B ignores him, and Marley can’t help but frown when he sees Josh is packing up his shit, zipping his bag and jamming his boots on. He’d hoped they’d have a little more time. Not be interrupted, at least.

"You said you were grabbing provisions," B tells Josh flatly.

It doesn’t sit right with Marley. He doesn’t talk... normally. Too formal. But Josh is used to it, doesn’t say anything except, "Yeah, had a detour. Relax, man."

"Oh, I’m a detour," Marley scoffs, poking at the remains of the joint as B steps off to look out the kitchen window. Well, the everything window, since it’s a studio. Joint’s done for, and Marley sighs. His fun’s over, anyway.

"We’re already late."

"Yeah, yeah, I—Jesus." Josh is in front of Marley, then, as he finally clambers to his feet. That catches him off guard. So does the nudge Josh gives him. "Should be back in a few months."

"Months? Shit, what kinda job is this, dude?"

"Classified," comes from the door.

Josh rolls his eyes. "Tell Davey to have more of that good shit grown, yeah?"

"Only if you bring better snacks," Marley negotiates. Chips had been salt and vinegar. Gross, even if he’s too high to care much about flavor.

"Deal."

The quick peck Josh sneaks when he headbutts him surprises Marley, and then Josh is gone, scruffy and flushed and clomping down the stairwell outside the door with his bag. Too soon, too fast, Marley thinks. Would’ve been nice if they could figure out what the DVD was about.

Not as fast as B, lunging back into the room when he looks like he’s going to leave—no, checking to make sure Josh’s gone—and hurling Marley back against his bookshelf. It doesn’t hold a lot of books, more just junk, and an empty turtle shell clatters to the floor.

"Name?" B asks, and his coat twitches, and—holy fucking shit, that’s a big knife, and Marley tells him so. "It’s a sword. Name," B says with the weird patience of someone who doesn’t have time but knows he’s dealing with someone who’s high, and forcing him to hurry won’t do any good.

"Marley." The knife, the sword, taps his shoulder. "Jacobs. Wait, what—"

The hand pinning him goes for his face, his mouth, and Marley winces as his lip’s stretched down. B lets it curl back up just as fast, leaving behind the taste of fake leather, then he’s tilting Marley’s head to the side. Marley wants to tell him to maybe take the shades off first, but then he remembers this guy has a sword. He’s learned a thing or two from buying weed and a little bit of harder stuff. Don’t piss off the guy with the sword isn’t a rule verbatim, but it’s a cousin to don’t get into shit with Stevie, who’s known to carry.

"How do you know Scud?"

Josh, Marley thinks. "Uh, friends. High school, kind of." At B’s head cock, he hurries, "Well, Josh dropped out. We still hung out after."

"Why don’t you call him Scud?"

Jesus, who is this guy? "Not his name," Marley shrugs. "I’unno, I... like it better."

"And you hang out."

Marley says, "Yeah," even though he doesn’t think he’s being asked.

B’s tone suggests he knows what hanging out implies. Marley nods, and B steps off him. For a beat, there’s nothing but the background noise of the TV, what’s a funny pastime for them flat-out embarrassing now. Doesn’t matter that it’s not in English, the yellow-haired boy’s voice is grating, annoying to both the other characters and the audience. Chanting something about a hokage, whatever that is. Soup looks good, though.

The stack of junk over the fridge crinkles as B takes something—a bag of pretzels.

"Hey, what..." Marley trails off, expecting to be ignored as B heads for the door, this time for real, Marley thinks. But he pauses. Waits. "Is Josh okay? He got this job after he got jumped at some festival, I dunno if you knew. But he’s... what kind of job is this?"

Because it clicks. B: this is Josh’s boss. Josh sure bitched about him often enough. Not to mention: provisions, running late, classified.

"Like I said," is all B gives, which, yeah.

But Marley tries anyway. Steps forward, kicks his turtle shell by accident. It skitters further than it ought to, bumps the heel of a clunky boot. "Look, just..." I don’t know what the fuck happened, but is he suicidal? Is this some bullshit he took up to off himself? Is he in too deep with something? Mob? Cartel? "... is he gonna be alright? Is he gonna come back?"

The boots turn. A gloved hand picks up the shell, and then B’s pushing it into Marley’s hands. It’s not gentle, but he think it tries to be. "He’s useful."

That sounds... less than great, but Marley takes it. How many teachers bitched at Josh for goofing off, skipping classes, not being anything but a waste of space?

"Yeah," Marley says, "okay."

- - -

In the morning he wakes up hungover, the TV screen on a purple input screen, the DVD player fried because his soda must’ve fallen off the fridge and spilled. Marley wants to just turn over and go back to sleep on his futon, but blue and red are thrown up on the walls, cops—and Marley’s wide awake and checking that his stashes are hidden like any good stoner.

There’s a body bag being rolled out of the lobby, he sees, with his face pressed up to his window. When he pokes his head out to see if his neighbors know anything, one tells him it was the landlord being carted off. Shot point-blank, and Marley cringes at that. Sure, he was a strict asshole (only available at night, no food in the lobby, no black lights in the apartments) but that’s just... rough.

Well. Hopefully Josh doesn’t have to deal with that kind of violence, wherever his job takes him. Marley entertains the idea that maybe he’s with the CIA. Nah, not Josh, who treated Rage Against the Machine like commandments when they were in high school, who rolled his eyes at army recruiters, who laughed as they got their asses chased by truancy officers.

He’d just as likely be running around with monsters, Marley snorts, and rips off a chunk of stale donut and goes back to bed.

[jerkbitchidjitassbutt]

It Was You (Part Five)

A/N: Jensen and Y/n are childhood best friends. When his agent informs him that his image could use some improvement for a role, will she help him? Or will her feelings get in the way?

Catch up here!

A holiday (Christmas centric) Jensen x Female!Reader Best Friends to Lovers series for @spnchristmasbingo​​​. This chapter and others will fill the square of ‘fake dating’ and this one specifically checks ‘ugly Christmas sweaters’. Un-beta’d, so all mistakes are mine. Header created by me with images from Google. Chapter word count: 3909 (its a longer one, oops)

Series Warnings: cursing, angst-ish at times (if you squint), but mostly all the fluff. Chapter warnings: an original character is sort of mean.

I consider this an AU, as Jensen is single in this fic. This is completely a work of fiction, and I wouldn’t want his reality to be any different, this is purely for entertainment.

Since you arrived late in the afternoon, you and Jensen had little time to rest before the party began. You stowed your things in your respective rooms in Jared’s home across the hall from one another and found the ugly sweaters Gen had chosen for you.

Jensen tried to peak into your room to see yours, but you shot him a look before you closed the door. “Oh c’mon, Y/n! Let me see!”

“Nope! We get to share in each other’s humiliation together!”

You heard him grunt on the other side of the door before he stomped across the hall and shut his door.

Yours was a bright, Christmassy red with white reindeer and an intricate pattern and overall, kind of cute. She also left you a jingle bell bracelet and earrings, so you quickly changed into a pair of jeans, your sweater, and a pair of black ballet flats. Loosening your hair from the tie, you let it fall and fluffed it a bit and applied a small amount of make-up, before finishing the look with some red lipstick and a small amount of gloss to be festive.

When you opened the door, you were met with a very grumpy looking Jensen. He pouted and gestured to himself, causing you to throw your head back in laughter. His sweater had red sleeves and a collar but had black and white patches with various designs all over, including a poinsettia, a string of lights, and a snowman. He was also wearing dark-wash jeans but had put on his black boots beneath that accentuated his slightly bowed legs. You couldn’t help but melt at the sight – he looked absolutely adorable and his pouty expression reminded you of when you were kids, when you wouldn’t share your ice cream with him after he’d eaten all of his own.

Covering your mouth to quiet your giggling, he put his hands on his hips and gave you a bitch face but softened his features when you told him how cute he looked.

“C’mon though,” he wined. “You look adorable. Your sweater is at least bearable. I look ridiculous.”

Something made you reach out to him, sliding your arms around his trim waist as he wrapped his around you. His dimples reached his cheeks as he smiled at you, a bit flirtatiously.

“Hey,” you reassured. “I’m sure you’re going to be the hit of the party with that outfit. You look great.”

Jensen sighed a deep breath, content to feel your body in his arms, “As long as you think so, sweetheart, I’m happy.”

“I always do.”

You felt that urge again as he glanced at your lips, the fire in your belly hadn’t quelled since that morning. Jensen growled down at you as you bit your lip once more, the noise making your blood rush to all sorts of places. He raised his hand to cup your cheek before tangling it into your hair, his mouth mere inches from yours.

Jared called from out of view at the bottom of the stairs, making your heads snap in the general direction, “Hey, guys! You almost ready? We’ve got your drinks made.”

You could hear some distant chatter, meaning that people had started to arrive. You shared a frustrated smile with Jensen as he pulled his hand from your cheek, grazing it slightly before he let go. You gripped his hand tightly as you led him down the stairs, but he was now pouting for a different reason.

You were met with hugs and smiles as you bounded into the room, Jared and Gen mixing in with the crowd of old friends and new faces. You were introduced to everyone and mingled, straying away from Jensen only slightly. He was chatting with a mutual friend of Jared’s as you socialized with a few of the women from the neighborhood, but each of you kept stealing glances at one another every few moments. Everything had shifted, both suddenly and slowly all at once. Instead of the casual glimpses you’d throw in each other’s direction when you were at a party in the past, which were more of just silent conversations asking if you or he needed saving from the person you were talking to in that moment, the stares tonight were affectionate and heated. It felt like he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you and anytime you were within reach, he made some sort of excuse to have his hands on you. Whether it was casually placing his hand on the small of your back to lead you somewhere or brushing your hair from your shoulder, he was constantly touching you in some way. It was comforting and fraying your nerves all at once.

You made your way into the kitchen to freshen your drink and grab a few of the snacks that Gen had made. She always pulled out all the stops for her parties and tonight was no different. She’d made a gigantic charcuterie board that expanded across their entire kitchen island, full of a variety of meats, cheeses, crackers, sauces, fruits and veggies. You filled your dish and grabbed a napkin and your drink before making your way back out to the living area where everyone was gathered, saying hi to a few people that passed by you.

Setting your drink down beside you, you picked through your plate as you began talking with Gen’s college roommate about the random happenings in Austin when Jensen’s form caught your eye. He was talking to someone who had their back turned to you, but she looked familiar though you couldn’t quite place how until she turned to wave at someone, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. It was Melanie. She was one of those people who always showed up to Jared and Gen’s parties and that everyone knew, but no one really cared for. She was very open about the fact that she was trying to up her social status in town and was anxious to settle down with someone who could help her do so. She paid to get into all the right clubs and have all the right things, but the hunger and greed radiated from her. Granted, to each their own and you wouldn’t normally judge, but you knew why she was being so chummy with Jensen. You felt a pang of jealousy that he was being his usual, charming self with her, chuckling when she told him a joke. His eyes scanned the room before they landed on you and his smile lit up his features, but when Melanie placed her hand on his forearm his attention went back to her. She was trim and beautiful on the outside and you couldn’t help but feel a bit protective and bitter that she was trying to sink her claws into Jensen, and so a bit of doubt flowed through your mind that he would want someone like you.

Jensen internally groaned when Melanie started another conversation about her macrobiotic diet as her acrylic nails drummed against her glass, praying that she would take a breath so that he could excuse himself. He let his mind wander to Y/n for a moment, anxious to be done with this party so that he could be alone with her again. He needed to know what she was feeling about them… and couldn’t wait to find out. His attention shot back to Melanie when he heard her shrill giggle and she asked, “So, are you seeing anyone?”

He knew that look. She’d given him that look plenty of times before – she plastered on a coy smile, trying to seem sexy as she batted her eyes up at him.

“Well…” he began, but paused, which Melanie took as an opportunity to shoot her shot.

“If you’re not, we should go out sometime. I know this great little club downtown that—”

Jensen held his hand up to stop her gently, “I’m sorry to if I gave you that impression, Melanie, but I’m spoken for.” He said firmly, and he meant it. She wouldn’t be his type on any given day, but he also knew he didn’t want to see anyone else anymore. At least not until he explored things with Y/n.

Melanie seemed taken aback, and almost offended. She turned her nose up slightly and scoffed before jutting her chin in the direction where Y/n was sitting. “Well, have you told her? She’s going to be a bit disappointed when she finds out.”

Jensen felt anger rise in his chest, his features contorting into a deep scowl, more at the fact that Melanie even had the audacity to mention Y/n, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, come on, Jay.” Don’t call me that, his mind roared. “She’s been clinging to your heals for as long as I’ve known you.” You don’t know me, she does. “You two have been in the news lately and everyone’s always questioned how close the two of you were.” You have no idea. “It’s not like she fits in here, you know.” She said disapprovingly as she glared in your direction, making Jensen’s blood boil.

He cleared his throat loudly, making Melanie jerk to face him in surprise. When she looked at him, he had a fire in his eyes that made her swallow thickly, but he kept his voice calm as he spoke, “Honestly, Melanie? Who I am or am not seeing is frankly none of your business, nor is it anyone else’s. And Y/n?” he motioned to where you were still seated, “No one compares to her. She’s the most beautiful and caring person I’ve ever met. She’d give anyone the shirt off of her back and she deeply cares about other people, not about what they can do for her. You could learn a thing or two from her.” He barked, moving to step away from her. “She’s one of the only true friends I have in this world, and I’ll be damned if I hear her name out of your mouth again.” With that, he left her standing with her mouth agape and waves of emotion rolling off of him.

Jared eyed Jensen heading for his back patio, looking more pissed than he’d ever seen him. He caught Y/n’s worried eyes and gestured that he’d go, following him as he weaved through the crowd. He found Jensen gripping the railing, steam radiating from him as his knuckles turned white.

“Hey, man. You okay? What happened?” Jared called, noting the tension in his shoulders.

Jensen huffed, pointing over his shoulder in the direction of the party, “Melanie.”

“Yeah? What’d she say?”

“Just something about Y/n. It pissed me off.”

Jared crossed his arms, immediately becoming concerned. You were one of his closest friends as well, so he wasn’t about to stand idly by if Melanie was talking about you, “What the hell did she say?” he asked, his own anger growing.

“She was trying to ask me out. When I told her I was seeing someone, she made a smart-ass remark about Y/n, talking about how her and I are always together and that she didn’t fit in.”

“Are you kidding me?” Jared’s voice rose. “She belongs here more than anyone else! Especially Melanie. That bitch wouldn’t know shit about fitting in.”

“I know. She’s insane.”

Jared had already made up his mind to say something to Melanie, but his focus was on his best friend at the moment, “Try not to let it bother you, okay? I know you have your fears about what’s going on with Y/n, but her fitting in isn’t even a question.”

Jensen nodded, “Nah, it’s definitely not… and that’s not even what bothered me the most.”

“I know.” Jared empathized, “We always get defensive about people we love.”

Love. Jensen smiled a bit at the word, and Jared caught it. He clapped him on the shoulder, Jensen returning the sentiment, before Jared his way back inside and immediately seeking out Melanie. When he couldn’t find her, he assumed she’d left and he was more than happy to see her go. She wouldn’t be on the guest list of anything else he had a hand in any time soon.

Y/n ventured outside in search of Jensen, abandoning her glass in the kitchen. He was leaning his elbows against the railing with his shoulders slumped. He didn’t look as upset as he had before Jared came out, but she could tell he was still angry about something.

“Jay? You okay?”

He turned towards her, his green eyes shimmering in the dim light casting from inside. He actually looked sad, more so than angry. “Hey sweetheart, I’m fine.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing, really. Melanie’s just an ass.”

“Well, yeah… I could’ve told you that.” You laughed, making him smile a bit.

He pulled you to him, circling his arms around your shoulders as you rested your head on his chest. The gesture was welcome, but it worried you all the same. You ran your hands on his back, feeling him take a sigh of release and letting the tension melt from him. He rested his cheek on your head, inhaling that floral scent once again.

After a moment, you eyed him from your place under his arm, “You sure you’re alright? Is there anything I can do to help?” you asked.

Jensen smiled to himself again. That was one of the things he loved about you. It was a humble question, but it was very meaningful to him. You always tried to care for him in the simplest ways, even if it was just being there, and no one could comfort him the way you could.

“I’m fine, Y/n/n.”

You pursed your lips, but didn’t press, “Okay. Do you want to stay out here a bit longer? Or go back into the party?”

“We can head back in.” he said, pressing a kiss to your hairline. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

“Of course, honey. I’m always here if you need me, okay?”

“I know.”

He already knew it, but he’d never get tired of hearing it. He walked back into the party with his hand securely bound around your waist, not caring about the wandering eyes and looks. That was the point of the original arrangement anyway, right? To make people talk? These were people, and they were talking. Now, though, the arrangement didn’t matter. He was holding you because he wanted to, and he wanted everyone to know just who he was here with.

He steered you towards the kitchen and poured himself a whiskey, taking a long sip as you accepted a glass of champagne from someone that was passing them around to all the attendants.

Jared and Gen were standing together in their large living room as they called everyone’s attention, “Everyone!” Jared’s voice boomed over the noise and the soft carols playing in the background. He raised his glass of champagne in a toast, “We just wanted to thank you all for coming out tonight. We think of you all as family and couldn’t think of a better way to celebrate the holidays than with everyone here. Our lives are blessed, so thank you. Merry Christmas everyone, and happy holidays!” Gen acknowledged to everyone in the room as she smiled brightly, tucked beneath Jared’s arm.

You and Jensen were huddled beneath the doorframe that entered their kitchen, your back lightly pressed into his chest as you both sipped from your glasses.

“Uh oh!” A loud voice sounded behind you, causing a few people to look your way. “Looks like someone found the mistletoe!”

You searched the crowd, trying to find who the man was talking about, but found that everyone was looking at you. You and Jensen both glanced up at the same time to find you were standing beneath the small plant that had been tied to the mantel with a red ribbon.

You looked at him wide-eyed but remembered that the two of you had an arrangement to appear as a couple. He raised an eyebrow, and when you nodded up to him, a flirty smile graced his lips. His hands came to cradle your face, with yours coming to rest on his forearms as you peered up at him.

Before he could question himself, he laid a feather light kiss against your lips and your eyes fluttered closed. It was quick and enticing, making your nerves stand on end. When you moved to wrap your arms around him, he deepened the kiss, the cheers and clinking of glasses a dull whirl in his ears. Your heart was pounding furiously in your chest and your skin tingled and buzzed, lit aflame at the slightest touch. It felt like every fiber of your body had sparked to life as his fingers danced across your skin and his lips molded to yours, laying small but deep kisses against them. He pulled away but kept you in his embrace, leaning down to whisper in your ear, “We’ll continue this later.” He promised, his voice deep and smooth.

You smiled up at him as you laced your fingers with his that still rested against your cheek, “Yes, please.” You breathed.

Everyone around you had gone back to chatting or eating, ignoring the two people still standing beneath the mistletoe, except for Jared. He’d initially been worried when his old friend Cole had outed that the two of you were under the mistletoe, but now he was grinning from ear to ear, knowing that he just witnessed something special for his two best friends. When he met Jensen’s eyes over the crowd, he jerked his head to the side, signaling that the two of you should leave with a slight smirk.

Jensen shot him a wink and grabbed your hand, pulling you towards Jared’s front door and you gladly followed on unsteady feet, but still feeling as though you could float if needed.

“Hey, Jensen?” you heard a voice call.

It was Melanie again, and Jensen’s grip tightened on you as you shot her a glare.

She stayed a distance away with a guilty but remorseful expression, “I just wanted to apologize. I didn’t have any right to say what I said. I’m sorry.”

Jensen’s hold softened, and he gave her a curt nod, “Thanks.”

She gave a gentle smile and added, “You’re right. I could learn a bit from her.” Before she ducked behind the banister, making her way out of the house and to her car.

You looked to Jensen with a questioning gaze, but he shook his head and gave your hand another reassuring squeeze, “I’ll tell you later, okay? I don’t want to think about it right now.”

He pulled you around to the side of Jared’s house, where there was a large garden and strings of lights illuminating the area. Tugging you towards him, he rounded on you to back you against the brick. You weren’t entirely surprised when he caged you within his arms and leaned in to rest his forehead against yours.

“Y/n.” he breathed, “Is this okay?”

Not trusting your own voice, you nodded.

“Sweetheart, I told you I’d never do anything to ruin our friendship, but I’m afraid I might be about to.”

Even standing in his embrace, the words made a wave of fear course through you and Jensen saw it flash in your eyes. “You’re my best friend, Y/n/n. You’ve been there for me through everything and there’s no one I’d rather have by my side, and I hope what I’m about to say won’t change that.”

With a trembling voice, you asked, “What is it, Jay?”

He tangled his hands into your hair, holding the base of your neck in his palms, “I can’t think of you as just my best friend anymore. I tried. I can’t do it. You’re so much more, Y/n. So, so much more.”

You released a relieved breath, smiling with tears in your eyes as you took his face in your hands, feeling his scruff beneath them. He closed the distance between you even further, pressing his body into yours so that you could feel every ripple of strength and softness that his build provided. Slowly, torturously, he leaned down and gently grazed your lips with his.

Your eyes fluttered shut as you carefully kissed him in return. After a single touch, he pulled back, almost desperately asking for permission. His eyes shown with a mixture of affection and desire as he silently searched your features for any sign of hesitancy. When you nodded up at him, he pressed himself against you and kissed you with more need, his plump lips puzzling to yours with ease.

Jensen’s tongue ran across your lower lip, opening you to him as you gasped into his mouth, the warmth of him flooding your senses as you grasped his shirt in your fists. His hand traveled along the hem of your sweater, lifting it slightly to press his palm against the small of your back, creating chills as the heat sunk into your skin against the chill of the Texas December.

You stayed outside for a while, simply exploring each other in a way you’d never had, with bodies entwined and hands searching out every inch. When you heard people loudly making their way towards their cars and pulling from Jared’s driveway, you returned to the house hand in hand. Jared and Gen were cleaning up the kitchen but stopped when you came through the door. With reddened cheeks and huge grins, there was no denying what you two had been discovering in the depths of their backyard.

You began to help them clean up, you and Jensen hip to hip as you washed and dried the dishes, still beaming at one another.

“So, how’s the ‘fake dating’ thing going, you two?” Gen quipped.

Jensen winked at her, “It may have started as fake, but it’s real now. At least for me it is.”

“Me too... but you and I can talk about that more later.” you said giddily, adding the last part just for him.

Jared spoke up, apologizing for earlier, “I’m sorry about Cole and the, you know, mistletoe.” He said, pointing to the incriminating doorframe.

You laughed and patted his arm for reassurance as Jensen shrugged beside you, “It wasn’t exactly how I wanted our first kiss to happen, but I’m happy it did.” He said, his eyes bright and happy. You didn’t miss that he had thought about your first kiss before that, so you noted to ask him about it later.

The rest of the night was spent laughing and talking with your best friends before the two of you excused yourself to bed. You had a drive to Dallas tomorrow, and your parents were expecting you for lunch.

Jared and Gen each gave you both a hug goodnight and watched you retreat up the stairs, giving each other a high five when you were out of sight.

When you reached your door, Jensen shuffled nervously.

“Do you want to come in?” you asked shyly.

His chest visibly rose and fell as his eyes darkened, but a gentle chuckle left his lips, “Of course I do, Y/n… but I don’t want to move things too fast.”

You giggled, opening the door to your room, “We’re not, Jay. I’m just talking about a sleepover.” You winked, happy when his eyes lit up.

He grabbed his pajamas and changed before meeting you in your room, sighing as he tucked himself underneath the covers and pulling you by your hips to meet his. You fell asleep to the rhythm of his breath in your ear and the rise and fall of his chest against your back, feeling both of your hearts beat along with one another.

To be continued...

………………………………………………………………………………

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12 ~ But Tonight, You Belong to Me

A/N: this is just the beginning of the chaos....also i’m almost at 1k followers!! that’s insane, and because of that i might just have something special coming for once i do hit it ;) one more thing, i’m doing a summer semester this year, and because of that the next couple of months might have more slow posts. i just ask that you please be patient with me when it comes to posting for now. thank u so much for reading!

Category: Angst

CW: Talks involving a case, talking about panic and stress and how dark the mind can go. please don’t read if you don’t feel comfortable with reading.

Summary: Y/N and her friends search for the person who left the note. Things don’t go quite as planned once they find them.

Words: 4530

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~

The weight of the world was on your shoulders. You could only feel the pins and needles from your elbows to your fingertips as if they were numb. Everything was heavy, from a single case file to someone speaking. At one point you couldn't hear words, you just heard muffled voices through the white noise. Your mind couldn't stop running a million miles a second with the worst of the worst while trying to keep it together. Agents were walking in and out of your apartment, checking for any bugs or clues from the hallway camera footage. Your team went asking others in your building if anything strange had happened and Garcia came straight over to multitask work and comfort. She sat next to you on the couch with her laptop in front of her. You kept your focus on the clicking and clacking of her nails hitting the keys as you ate the donut she got you and drank your tea, the sweet comforting taste of pumpkin almost calming your nerves, but not by much.

Not looking away from her screen, Garcia placed a hand on your back, rubbing up and down softly. Being pulled out of your thoughts, you took a quick glance at her. The team all looked so tired and drained. When you found the letter at your door, you immediately called everyone including Gacia, sobbing and trying not to scare your dogs too much. They solved the case the next day and then came straight to your apartment. Garcia came as quickly as she could after the call. Spencer was worried sick, he didn't want to leave your side and almost argued with Hotch about it. But you told him that doing his job will help immensely, and he listened to you. Still mad at Hotch, he stormed out with Emily to ask around.

After hours of searching and not finding much, all the other agents packed up their gear and equipment and headed out, while your friends stayed behind. Spencer sat next to you on the other side of the couch while everyone else sat in the chairs in the living room or grabbed a chair from the kitchen. Seth came by as soon as the whole bureau left, as they wouldn't let him in to take care of the dogs for you. He sat on the floor by your feet, petting Draco while you were holding Benedict. The softness of his hair helped you calm down enough to talk to your friends.

"Y/N," said Rossi, "are you sure you know who left you the note?"

"I'm positive," you weakly spoke, trying to hold in everything, "It's him. It's Michael Gabin."

"How do you know Gabin?" asked Jj, holding the letter in its plastic evidence bag.

"He was my high school 'best friend', although he wasn't really a good one..."

"How so?" asked Hotch.

"He never supported me in my dreams. He made fun of me like everyone else, he would ditch me for parties and use me. I was just something to do to him, we weren't really friends now that I think about it."

Spencer put his arm around you, pulling you in and kissing the top of your head as he rubbed your shoulder. "I just don't understand why he would do this. He didn't give a shit about me."

"Maybe there's something deeper going on with him. We'll figure it out." said Morgan.

"How do you know it's him, though," asked Emily, "What in the letter stood out to you?"

You slowly grabbed the letter from Jj and moved the bag around so then it was better to see. You drifted your finger along the first sentence. " 'Did you connect the dots, you nerd?' That was what he called me. Almost every sentence towards me ended in that and it got annoying at one point. I wasn't even upset anymore about the name just the fact that he used it all the time to get on my nerves."

"You'll get the bastard, I know you can!" said Seth. There was silence. You looked down at him and smiled, knowing that he was really saying that he's right beside you in this. You looked around the room, feeling the same thing for all of them. They were your family, and they were willing to do everything and anything to keep you safe and help you. You didn't know what you did to deserve people like them.

"We'll pick up again bright and early in the morning," said Hotch, "When we come in, Garcia, I need you to look into Gabin's backstory-work, school, family, friends. Morgan and Emily, talk to his parents or any family member to get their side of the story. Jj and Spencer, I want you both to stay with Y/N tomorrow and help her go through his story, compare what she knows to what we find out. Maybe there's something that's there but just never clicked. Rossi and I will handle protection for you, Seth, and your father."

"As for now, let's all try to get a bit of rest," said Rossi, standing up from his chair and fixing his suit. He walked up to you and put a hand on your shoulder, "Don't you worry kiddo. We're all here."

As everyone got up, gave their tightest hugs to you, and started heading out the door, Spencer stopped Hotch. "Hotch, is it ok if I stay with Y/N tonight?" He asked.

Hotch looked at him, then at you, then back at him, and nodded. Then left and closed the door behind him. Seth left with the crowd, saying he'd come tomorrow to look after the dogs for you. The two of you lay on the couch, you on top of Spencer as he played with your hair. Your head was on his chest, laying on your stomach with your arms rested on top of his shoulders. It shouldn't have scared you that badly. Yeah, he wasn't a good friend. But Michael doing this years after high school, he was being the loser this time. Not you. Spencer reminded you, though, that anyone leaving a note like that at your door is scary. If they didn't leave a clue that would help you figure him out, anyone would be terrified.

~~~

Waking up to the smell of french toast and coffee, you learned as you walked in on Spencer setting the food down on the coffee table, that he knew what to do to cheer somewhat up in some ways. He knew what to do to make you smile even if it's small like making you breakfast. You watched from the hallway door frame as your dogs chased each other around your apartment, almost knocking Spencer over while he had your glasses of water in his hands. What gave you away was your little giggle. He looked up after setting the glasses down, smiling. You walked over to each other, right in both your arms and his, almost seeing who can give the tightest hug possible.

You tried to look as best you could for going into work, but you really weren't feeling it. You were told to not come in today but you could still do work from home since you're now both agent and victim. Jj came over early that afternoon with lunch in her hands. She had gotten subs from a place around the block and some peach flavored ice teas, and when she walked in and sat everything down, she let you and Spencer know that you weren't needed yet until Garcia, Morgan, and Emily got their info so then we could try and match them up. She played with your dogs with Seth while you tried to watch tv or YouTube videos to keep your mind of something you didn't need to really think about at the moment.

Spencer sat next to you on the couch, one arm around you while the other held his coffee mug. One leg over the other, he used his knee to balance the book he was currently reading. That's what was really helping you distract yourself after a while, as you had turned on a lofi video to have music going in the house, the way his fingers would go down the page like he was pretending to read. His middle finger would travel the page while his ring and index fingers were in the air, not missing a single word. You nuzzled the back of your head on his shoulder, hands to yourself. Everything finally felt fine.

~~~

Later that afternoon, Garcia, Morgan, and Emily came in, the dogs running up and jumping on them. The two sat in the chairs while Garcia sat on the other side of you on the couch setting up her laptop. Jj was still with Seth and the dogs on the floor, petting them and giving them belly rubs. After asking if they wanted anything, you got up and went to the kitchen to make them coffee. Spencer didn't want you to at first, but you reassured him that you were ok enough to make it. You never met a man like him that had so much trust in you after speaking up on his concerns and worries. Setting them down on the coffee table, it was time now to compare.

"Garcia was able to find his mom easily," said Morgan, "She moved to D.C. a couple years back."

"And Michael had been staying with her for the past year," Emily chimed in, "He had got into trouble in Detroit with drugs and his mother had him move in with her so he could get help."

"That's a big lie," said Garcia, typing away at her laptop, pulling up different windows that showed his spendings and purchases, "He's been sending money to someone through Venmo and by the looks of the prices, he's not just giving this person gas money."

"Did he experiment at all in high school?" asked Jj.

Taking a moment to process the info that was just told to you, you think back again to the days he'd sneak into your room from the window after a party, trying to tell you all he did and be either be too drunk or pretend to be too drunk to care about you in the slightest. You'd be asleep and you'd feel him shake you awake at 3am. He never asked how your day went, not that you cared if he did after a while, but you listened and listened until you were drifting in and out, trying to stay awake.

"Not really," you finally said, "he would drink sometimes at parties but most of the time he was faking it to seem cool. He was lying to everyone back then and everyone knew he was just puffing his chest. He thought he was so cool because all the popular kids and druggies and alcoholics would always talk with him and hang out, but really they were playing him like a game, or like some form of entertainment."

"His mother said she let him stay with an old friend of his after a few months living with her. Do you recognize the name Sarah Sammuels?" asked Morgan.

"Yeah. She was one of the popular girls."

"Looking into her backstory," said Garcia, "she had been a stoner all throughout high school. And from what it looks like, after high school her and Michael bumped into each other, became friends, and she got him into weed and other drugs like LSD, cocaine, molly. When he found out she also had moved here, he convinced his mom that it was best if he lived with her. Since then, they've been going to the same guy."

"Where does he work?" You asked.

"He works at a burger joint and...eww it's a really crappy burger joint called Ben's Burgers," She typed away, pulling up more windows, "Doesn't pay him enough as he's said in multiple posts on Facebook..." Her face looked as if two people ran into each other and got seriously hurt, almost like a 'That's going to hurt in the morning' type of expression, as she read one of the posts. We all looked and everyone else had the same reaction. You, on the other hand, weren't too surprised by this.

"That definitely sounds like him," you said, "Michael could never hold even the shittest of jobs."

"What else do you know about him," asked Emily, "Did he ever talk about home?"

"That's all he talked about when he was drunk. His dad was abusive to him when we were kids and then left him when we were in middle school. His mom really did try throughout the years but he wasn't having it. He was always so mean to her for no reason. Come to think of it, it's quite shocking he and Sarah get along so well. He never really treated any girl or woman with respect."

"Was his father like that?" asked Spencer.

"I'm not sure, but I wouldn't be surprised."

"I did look into both his parents," said Garcia, "His father was definitely not nice to women at all growing up. His mother was very abusive towards him, going so much as making him stay home from school a lot to get her alcohol and hurt him. She'd lock him in the shed with no food or water for days and no one knew. By the time he was ready to report her, she passed away due to liver failure."

"So...maybe this is Michael's way of getting back at women. Maybe his father told him something before he left." said Jj.

"Maybe. But right now, let's give this information to Hotch and Rossi and then we'll continue our search from there." said Spencer.

Morgan got up from his chair and pulled his phone out of his pocket as he walked to the kitchen. Seth softly rubbed your knee as a way of showing support as he got up from the floor. He said he was thinking about walking the dogs at the park and offered to everyone if they wanted to join. You focused on the conversation, but your ears were also paying attention to Morgan and what he was telling Hotch.

"Hotch," said Morgan, "so we found some more things on his back-..." He was cut off mid sentence, listening to what Hotch had to say. From the look on Morgan's face, it didn't sound like good news. "Wait he did what?!...Um, ok we'll be there in five...are you sure?...yeah you're right. Ok, we'll be there as fast as we can." He hung up the phone and looked at all of us worried.

"Seth, you're going to have to walk the dogs on your own today. Something happened at Quantico and Y/N needs to come with us."

"What happened?" asked Emily, everyone looking quite concerned.

"Michael somehow managed to sneak another note in one of the case files. Everyone in the building checked everything but he was nowhere to be found, so either he somehow disguised himself as an agent or we have a mole helping him out."

The weight was coming back. Everything was slowly getting heavy again, and Spencer could tell. He held your hand tightly and squeezed, letting you know he was there. It shook you from your thoughts and suddenly a little of the weight lifted once you looked into his hazel eyes. He smiled, and for a moment you felt safe all over again. That only lasted until you got to the 6th floor, where you found Hotch and Rossi sitting in Hotch's office. When they saw you guys come in, they came out and stood at the railing. Looking around, you saw some agents from different departments running in and out, collecting all they could to help out yours. Phones were ringing like crazy, and the amount of talking that was going on turned into white noise again.

Hotch advised everyone to go to the conference room, and as you all walked in Spencer still held your hand firmly, even when you sat down. He rolled his chair closer to you, and while you thought that Hotch would say otherwise, he surprisingly didn't say anything about you two being so close. He stood with Jj in front of the screen, looking around the room. His eyes met with yours and you could tell he saw right through them. The worry and the panic, the fear and the pain.

It was almost as if he understood so much that he was letting you be.

Rossi later walked in with the new note already in an evidence bag in his hands. Jj soon put it up on the screen for everyone to see (read), but looking around the room you saw confused expressions.

"So the guy is a fan of codes?" asked Morgan.

"Does any of this mean anything to you?" asked Hotch.

You nodded. "Michael was obsessed with codes. He'd give me one that he didn't think I could solve and when I did he'd give me one even harder. I knew he was doing this to get under my skin, but honestly I had a ball solving them. Codes are always fun."

"Go with Garcia and Spencer to her lab while they look over the letter and figure it out. Jj, the press somehow found out about today's note, so I would like you to talk to them and tame the situation. Emily and Morgan, you're with Rossi and I to go to the morgue and look at the bodies again. Compare what you find with what happened today and anything the three can find."

~~~

"We've cracked some of the hardest codes an unsub can come up with, yet THIS ONE is the one that's giving us so much trouble. Even for our boy wonder over here and it's numbers! His favorite."

"That's Michael for you, Garcia," You said. You were sitting next to her at her desk while Spencer sat on the table behind you, watching the monitors from above, "It's shocking that he got better at them. I thought he'd be over it after we graduated." You turned around and saw your boyfriend, looking stumped.

There was a moment of silence. "Hello? This is where the doc comes in with some other ways of solving the code." said Garcia.

The more you stared at him the more you realized he wasn't stumped, he was in his head figuring it out. "Bubs?" Spencer snapped out of his thoughts, blinking a few times. "Yeah...yeah sorry," He got up from the table and walked closer to the screen. He and Garcia got to work, pulling up all different alphabets and putting them in grids. The three of you came back together and compared the note to each one, but still nothing.

The more you stared at the note, the more you began to think. It was right on the tip of your tongue. It felt so familiar to you, so nostalgic. It then hit you like a train, the numbers and how they were specifically arranged. They didn't belong to any real alphabet, only yours. "I know what this is."

"You do?" They asked at the same time.

You signaled Garcia out of her chair and once sitting, you went to work. "The one thing he used on me to make me think we were actually friends was our code. He created a code for us to use in class or any situation where we wanted to talk to each other without anyone knowing what we were saying. He liked using stuff like that because he knew I was a sucker for this kind of stuff." As they watched, you put the numbers from the note on one line, and your alphabet in a line below that. The computer matched them up and generated a message that read:

'Why was the princess locked in a wine cellar? So then she could spend her days planning an escape. But the grandfather clock kept ticking, and when she sobered up, she soon realized it was all a lie.'

"Who knew we had two geniuses in our pockets!" said Garcia, who you switched spots with so she could put it together in her file.

"Not a genius, just gullible." You said, trying your best to sound ok. Spencer could tell, however, that you weren't. You pulled your sleeves down so then your hands were covered before crossing your arms over your chest. You looked down to the floor, staring down into space. Was this starting to get too much for you? The more you figured out, the closer you were to getting him. Sure, he wasn't a good friend to you in the slightest, but what if it got bad? What if he had to be shot at?

"You ok, bubs?" He whispered to you, but you didn't hear him. Your mind kept building up your worries, making you shake a little bit. You felt like you were about to explode until you felt someone grabbing your hands, making you look up and see Spencer looking worried.

You grabbed his hand and gave a half smile. "I'm ok." You said, giving you a half smile in return. He understood you were trying to be strong, but didn't like seeing you in so much stress. He wished he could hold you tight while laying on the couch and make you feel safe. He wanted to protect you from whatever was going to happen, protect you from Michael. Even though he was of course going to let you do your job if Hotch allowed, he wasn't going to not do anything if the chance came.

"Ok, looking at this there is one obvious clue," said Garcia after a few moments of silence, "like how the princess is you, but I'm stumped on the rest."

You looked at the first sentence again, trying to put something together. "Garcia, are there any abandoned restaurants in D.C. that would have a wine cellar?"

She looked through her database and came across one that was surprisingly down the street from your apartment. "It was just recently closed down about 6 months ago and it's expected to be demolished two days from now." said Garcia. With this info, you ran with it and took it to Hotch, who gave his orders to the team before calling in backup. You walked to the cars with your vest on and gun ready, thinking you were going to go on the field with them until Hotch walked up to you as you were about to get in one of the cars.

"Y/N, I need you to step back only a little bit. You are going out on the field but only to talk to Michael. In no way are you going to fire at him if it does come to it, understand?"

You nodded. "I understand. I wouldn't want to shoot him even if I had to. He deserves to be locked up, not killed."

Hotch nodded as he put a hand on your shoulder, patting it a few times as he walked off to the other car. You sat next to Emily in the back while Morgan and Spencer sat up front. A ride that took only 10 minutes felt like hours, as the nerves in your stomach grew and grew the closer you got. For a split second, you almost got mad at Morgan because you thought he was taking his sweet time driving, which wasn't like him at all-or really any agent for that matter. You weren't really ready to see Michael again, especially in a situation like this. Graduating high school, you remember giving a big middle finger to the building before you got in your dad's truck. Not only was it generally to the school, but also to its students, including Michael. You thought you'd never see him or anyone from your class ever again.

What would he be like? Would he be completely different and act as any other unsub would, or would he be himself? Michael, who used his charm to get what he wanted out of you. The one who would pretend to be nice to you around certain people and then turn into a douchebag around others. What would he do this time? Would he even try to do anything at all? There was more to the note that you didn't even touch on, which usually isn't like them. Maybe they just wanted to get the bastard as fast as they could, but the last part, 'But the grandfather clock kept ticking, and when she sobered up, she realized it was all a lie'.

What was the lie?

~~~

The building was deteriorating bit by bit, ripping away all its history. According to the file on your phone, this restaurant was a family business for almost 100 years and they were getting ready to build a whole new, more modern take on the place before it completely crumbled to the ground. There were apartments above it, where the whole family lived. This was the perfect spot for Michael to hide-old, broken, and so weak that one touch could be dangerous.

Getting out of the cars, you gathered with swat in front of the building and began coming up with a strategy. Spencer held your hand tightly and kissed the top of your forehead before separating. You were with Hotch and Rossi while Spencer was with Jj and Emily and Morgan with swat. You carefully entered the front, as the door was already unlocked. Immediately you knew this was a trap and you hoped that the rest of the team knew that, too.

Flipping the switch to see that the electricity was still working, you checked all over the bottom floor from the dining area to the kitchen. Nothing seemed out of place, nothing looked like an obvious clue. Everything was clear, but before you could get upstairs the lights went off and everything became a blur. You heard gunshots, yelling coming from everyone around you. Then you heard an even louder scream, lower in tone but very familiar, and the panic began to set in.

"Spencer?" You called out.

Silence.

The lights shortly came back on and everyone gathered in the dining area again. You looked everywhere for him, but you thought you were just too frantic that your brain wasn't working right. Bumping into someone, you thought it was Spencer but instead when the person turned around and saw that it was Rossi, you broke. Without even thinking, you wrapped your arms around him, crying on his shoulder. Rossi held on tightly to you, not knowing why until he heard you whisper Spencer's name repeatedly.

"HOTCH," yelled Morgan as he came out of the kitchen, "Where's Spencer?"

"He wasn't with you?" asked Hotch.

"He was until the lights came back on. I thought he went to Y/N."

'Michael didn't," you thought, '...Michael couldn't have.'

[el-gilliath]

not complete without you

Yeah so I decided to venture into The Old Guard fic with a 6+k fic. This was written for a prompt by @andrea-lyn, who did not want to write it herself but knew that angst and character death is right up my alley, so here we are. A big thanks to my bellowed @winged-fool for the beta.

Though this might be character death, I still find this to be a happy ending. All you need to know is in the tags.

Also includes an immortal dog, and what might be reincarnation.

AO3

Nicky knows his time is up in the most innocent of ways, he stubs his toe against the table in one of their safehouses and it doesn’t immediately stop hurting. Instead, it hurts for hours. His suspicions are confirmed when he cuts himself in the kitchen the day after and the wound doesn’t seal the way it usually does. He hides in the kitchen, cooking for hours until it stops bleeding and he can pretend it isn’t there.

He’s careful the next few days, so very careful, not to let Joe notice that he’s no longer healing. Instead, he watches as Joe spars with Nile, watches his bruises fade into the ether. Instead, he sucks marks into his skin as they make love late at night, admiring them for the three seconds before they disappear. He holds Joe close, distracting him with the sweetest of kisses so he can have another second, minute, hour where they’ll live together for another millennia and neither of their time is up.

He breathes calmly, smiles widely, loves fiercely, the way he always has. He avoids it for three days, allows himself to picture another thousand years with Joe, with Nile, with Booker. The good times they would share and the joy they would experience together, the lives they would save that would go on to save others.

He stops avoiding the minute Joe looks at him with worry. His Joe, his Yusuf, the man he killed countless times before he recognized what was in front of him and loved him fiercely from then on. The man whose love transcends everything, the man he hasn’t needed to speak words to for centuries, couldn’t speak to in the beginning, and now they just understand what the other needs and wants.

The man whose touch still thrills him after all this time.

Nicky closes his eyes, hangs his head, and prays. Maybe there’s no God, and Andy would’ve mocked him for it were she still among them. But he still has faith. Faith gave him Joe, gave him someone so he didn’t have to spend an eternity alone, how can he not still believe.

“Nicoló?”

He can hear the fear in Joe’s voice, feels it deep in his heart as he opens his eyes and looks back at him. God, will the sight of Joe never make his heart stop beating faster, will his short curls never make him want to run his fingers through them? He hopes not, for whatever time he has left.

“Three days,” he replies. He lifts his finger towards Joe, shows him the cut that’s still healing three days later. The cut he’s worked so hard to hide. “It’s my time, Yusuf.”

He knows he should’ve anticipated the wail of grief that escapes Joe as he looks at Nicky’s finger. Knows he should’ve anticipated the complete collapse to the floor the other half of his soul does. Knows he should’ve anticipated his sleek and very quick everything to lounge for a knife from their collection of weapons and slash himself on the arm. Maybe he did anticipate all of it, just like he knows that he needs to let it happen.

He listens as the wails turn louder, watches as Joe slashes his arms again and again in the hopes that his healing won’t set in. Both of them know that it will, but Joe still tries and Nicky still lets him. Watches him try again and again with tears in his eyes and running down his face, his hands clasped tightly together with the sounds of Booker and Nile just outside, asking them what’s going on. He tries to tell them that it’s okay, that they’re good, but he can’t. His world is hurting. His world needs him more than their teammates does right now.

He moves closer when he can. He knows Joe wouldn’t hurt him, but he needs to let his grief out. Nicky’s not going to stop that, he’s had three days to grieve. It’s Joe’s turn now.

He gets close enough to touch Joe and as he stretches out his hand Joe drops the knife immediately, gathering Nicky in his arms as he buries his face in Nicky’s hair.

“Nicoló. Non voglio che mi lasci. Per favore.”

“I’m not leaving you, il mio cuore, not for a long time,” Nicky whispers, moving Joe’s face away from his hair and drying his cheeks with his thumb. “We still have time, mi amore, so much time.”

Joe shakes his head. The grief is so very visible on his face and it breaks Nicky’s heart. “But not as much as we wanted. I cannot continue without you, my heart.”

“You can do whatever you need to. But for now we have time. Anything else will wait,” Nicky replies, giving Joe a soft kiss as he buries his fingers in Joe’s hair as he always wants to. “My immortality might be gone but I’m not gone yet, my Yusuf. I’m not lost to you yet.”

“I wish you would never have to be lost to me.”

“We will deal with this too, as we have dealt with everything else in our life. I swear, I will not leave you before I have to.”

They look at each other, losing themselves in each other as they always do. Nothing will change that, hasn’t in the millennia they’ve been together and it never will. Neither will the force of their kisses, Nicky knows and experiences as he’s drawn into a forceful one. It’s as passionate as always, as loving as always. But tinged with desperation, with sorrow. With loss.

“Yusuf.” Nicky moves away, just slightly, only just enough. “I have not left you. I’m right here.”

Joe nods, the grief on his face disappearing slowly but surely. Nicky knows he’s only hiding it, but he will let him. They will deal with that another time.

“Take me to bed, il mio cuore,” he says, smiling as Joe gets a familiar gleam of heat in his eyes. “I wish to spend the night wrapped in your arms.”

“Then in my arms you shall spend it.”

The next kiss is softer, not as tinged with the despair of the future. It lights his everything on fire, stokes it in his belly the way only Joe can. The way he’s lit it for so long. He cradles Joe’s head, pulling him tighter, closer. Always closer. Joe makes him stand up, walks him backwards to their bed, laying him down slowly as they hit the edge. Their lips never separating. It’s familiar, loving, safe. But still as thrilling as all the other times Joe takes him in his arms and kisses him, still as thrilling as all the other times he undresses him slowly and makes love to him.

Spending the night in Joe’s arms is still the safest place he will ever be.

———

He wakes the next day still cradled in Joe’s arms. They’re naked, the way they prefer to be when they have a room to themselves and everything in Nicky screams to stay there. But the need to talk to Booker and Nile is bigger, though he has no doubts that Booker at least suspects what’s going on. Booker is too smart for his own good at times, as history has shown.

He extracts himself from Joe’s arms, leaning down to kiss his brow and whisper sweet nothings when he makes noises of protest in his sleep. Nicky can only smile at the put open sigh as Joe settles back down, never wanting to be parted from Nicky.

He still leaves him alone in bed, leaving their bedroom and walking downstairs to the kitchen. He knows Booker and Nile are in there before he enters, feels them in his spirit the way he’s always done. He knows they feel him too, their eyes upon him from the second he walks into the kitchen. He has not lost that, still.

“Good morning,” he says smiling. He’s happy to see them smile back. Though he knows they are suspicious, from the way Booker doesn’t completely meet his eyes, or the way Nile’s foot keeps bouncing as if she’s having trouble staying still. “Have you eaten?”

“Not yet, Nile wanted to wait for you,” Booker replies, in the open and honest way he’s been since… Then and all that happened.

“Then I will make us some bre-”

“Are you and Joe okay?”

Booker clears his throat pointedly but Nile just waves him off, obviously not concerned in the slightest by whatever plan Booker probably suggested and she said she would go along with. Nile’s quest for the truth has always been something Nicky has admired, loved, about her. It never gets boring with that around.

“We’re good, Nile. As always,” he says as he starts pulling food out of the fridge, finding a fresh loaf of bread Booker probably left to buy early in the morning, the way he always does when the four of them are near Paris. Still so very French, after all this time. Though Nicky isn’t sure he can say anything, he’s never turned less Italiano after all these years of being alive. “It was a rough night, that’s all.”

“That was not just a rough night, he was-”

“Nile.”

Nicky’s eyes find Booker’s, as he speaks up to make Nile stop her questioning. Booker’s eyes are filled with questions, so Nicky nods, just once, short and precise. He watches Booker’s eyes fill with grief, his posture sagging as he takes in the new knowledge of the world.

“What’s going on?”

Nicky smiles, a loving thing that speaks of the family that they are, Booker smiling back in the same way before they both turn to Nile. She looks worried, scared, in a way Nicky wishes she didn’t have to be. She doesn’t deserve to be, but it’s a testament of who they are and what they go through that those feelings never completely disappear. They never will.

“I’m mortal, Nile,” Nicky replies, going to her and crouching down in front of her as he takes her hand. “I stubbed my toe four days ago and it didn’t stop hurting. Then the day after I cut my finger when I was cooking and it didn’t heal.”

“Nicky!” She yells, her voice wrought with fear for him.

“Shh, it’s okay. Last night was Joe finding out. He did not take kindly to the information.”

“You’re dying!”

“No, Nile. I might be mortal but I plan on living a long life still.” He cups her face, smiling in the face of the tears pooling in her eyes. “I am not leaving anyone in this family any time soon. Besides, I could not leave you alone with only Booker, it would be a cruel fate.”

“Haha,” Booker says as he moves to take over the cooking. “You should be happy I do not speak ill of my elders.”

“Since when?” Nile asks sceptically.

“Since now. If Nicky’s mortal, it means he’s officially a priest again, and one has to follow the teachings of the Catholic Church when in the presence of a priest.”

Nicky can’t help but laugh. He hasn’t been a priest in so long and he’s not planning on becoming one again. He’s done far too many unholy things with Joe, and in his long life, for that to be the case. “I do not think the Church would accept me back, Booker, after all we’ve done.”

“That might be, but you still have faith after all this time.” Booker cracks a few eggs into the skillet. “And in your own words, everything happens for a reason. Your faith wouldn’t let you down like that.”

“I don’t think so either,” Nile says. The only one besides him to still have any sort of faith. “It’s not your time yet.”

“No,” he replies. “It is not.”

He gets to his feet, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of Nile’s head before he walks over to Booker, pulling his head down so he can press a kiss to his temple too. Booker swats him playfully, but he knows it’s just for show. Booker accepts the free affection of his family much easier now, knows he needs it to survive and fight the depression he’s always battled. It’s a sign of faith, of love and forgiveness to kiss his temple for Nicky, whenever he can get away with it. It might not be often, but he still enjoys it when he can. The simple affection and kindness come easy for Nicky and Booker deserves to be shown them.

“Why is everyone but me getting kisses from my Nicky?”

Booker snorts at the mock indignation in Joe’s voice. “He keeps giving them to me, how can I refuse.”

Joe mutters under his breath but still moves over and places his own smacking kiss on Booker’s other temple before he moves over and does the same to Nile. Nicky watches Booker’s reaction, how he freezes slightly before continuing to make (almost burn) the second round of eggs, quickly followed by bacon. Joe has shown Booker he’s completely forgiven many times, though the darkness in Booker doesn’t always believe that. Even knowing as he does that he served his penance in more ways than one and none of them hold it against him anymore. Nicky squeezes his shoulder before moving over and joining Joe and Nile at the kitchen table.

It’s an easy morning, simple and quiet, the way many of their mornings have been in the years they’ve been together, but deep down he knows something has changed. He knows his days with them are numbered, knows that he wants to eventually live out the rest of his days away from the action. And him living out his days means that Joe will leave too. Even if he tried to make Joe stay, there’s no way that he will. No way that he would be left alone without him.

“Did Copley the Fourth give us any information on our target?” Joe asks, reaching for Nicky’s hands and tangling them together as Booker brings their breakfast over to the table. Not the easiest way to eat, but Nicky will never say no when Joe wants to be close.

After James Copley there was Elaine Dawson. After Elaine there was Darren Whitaker. After Darren there’s Mustafa “Moose” King. Or Copley the Fourth as they affectionately like to call him. The Copleys are all chosen by their predecessors, happily keeping them secret and helping them stay out of the ether. Merrick taught them a lesson they never wanted to learn, but they learned it well when they had to. And their habit of trusting one person has proven valuable over the years.

Though Nicky has reservations about Nile’s relations with the current Copley. But he knows this is a tale she must discover for herself. He’s had Joe the entire time, how can he begrudge her some happiness.

“His name is Mustafa. And yes, he did. He gave us all the info we needed,” Nile replies. Joe, Booker, and Nicky all share a look, hiding their amusement from the youngest member of their team. All this time and she is still such a 1990s kid. “We still have about two weeks until we can move out, so I’ll monitor with him-”

“I’ll bet you will,” Booker murmurs under his breath, causing Nile to give him a slight smack.

“Until then there’s no harm in us staying here, right?”

“Staying right here, close to your boyfriend. Yes, no harm.” Booker laughs as Nile smacks him again, harder. “We can stay, Nile. The perimeter is secure and so is this house. I promise.”

“Okay, good. We agree then? Two weeks and then we move out.”

“Si.”

———

They spend the two weeks together, being near one another as much as they can. Nicky knows it’s because they want to savour their time with him, in case something happens on the mission they have to see through. In case he actually dies and does not come back. It’s a somber thought, and one he will not entertain for long. It is not his time yet.

He’s still restless, uncertain in ways he hasn’t been in years. Possibly never, but he doesn’t really remember anymore. The last time he felt any kind of nervous was when Andy was mortal. Though a mission was not what killed her, he does not believe that will be his end either.

———

He’s almost wrong. Feels the panic settle deep in his skull as the bullet tears through his leg. Hears Joe yell in fury, as Booker sprints, faster than Booker has ever sprinted, over to him and starts putting pressure on the wound. Sees him and Nile, even Joe, finally accept that he is indeed mortal when the wound doesn’t close.

He decides then and there that if he survives this then he will leave, unless they need a sniper. He wants to live the rest of his years with his Joe, his Yusuf. He doesn’t want to miss out on the things he never thought he would have.

“I was thinking about that time in Malta,” he whispers, hands tangled with Joe’s as Booker patches him up and Nile watches from the side. Ever vigilant, even if they are out of danger.

“Which time in Malta?”

He gives Joe a look, a slight, secretive smile on his face. The smile he knows Joe adores more than almost anything. His kiss is the only thing Joe adores more.

“Oh, that time in Malta.”

“We should go back there. And stay.”

Booker’s hands still for a second, two, before he goes back to wrapping the wound. Nile takes a deep breath, her controlled breathing loud in Nicky’s ears. Joe just looks at him, a bit of the grief he holds inside on his face. But he smiles back, loving and warm as always.

“Yes, let's go back to Malta.”

“Do you guys mind, if we leave?” He asks. He will not leave Booker and Nile alone if they do.

“Not if we can come visit,” Nile replies, her gaze sad but a smile appearing on her face. Booker nods in agreement, short and sure like Booker always is nowadays.

“Any time you like,” Joe says, looking at them both. Nicky watches him catch Booker’s eye as he says the second part of his sentence. “If we don’t see you at least once a year we will come find you, comprendre?”

“Oui. Ce sera mon honneur,” Booker says with obvious relief. “Where in Malta will you go?”

“We have a place.”

———

Nicky understands now, why people who get hurt complain about the lingering aches of time. His foot healed well, exactly the way it should but ten years from that date it still pains him on days with bad weather, when he takes the wrong step or if he sleeps slightly wrong. He’s felt every one of these ten years, from the way his body aches in ways it never has before, to the greys in his hair, to the way Joe looks at him. He’s never doubted that Joe loves him, he doubts it less now, their simple lives in their cottage a testament to that love and devotion.

Their cottage is a place of emotion and has been since Nicky acquired it in the late 1800s. It’s been ‘inherited’ down his family, all of them versions of his alias of course. But from Nicolò de Genovo to Nicky Genova it’s still his. His place to call home with Joe. Secretly at first, in the open now though Joe is still careful when he’s outside so people do not believe he hasn’t aged. A little makeup and some hair changes has always kept them safe.

Nicky doesn’t need that now, aging gracefully as he is. Some part of him has been waiting for this, but his sadness at doing this without Joe is still there. He keeps it to himself as much as he can but after so long it’s not the easiest to do. Knowing Joe feels the same makes it all better.

He knows Joe tests his healing every month. In the hopes that his has ended well. It breaks both their hearts that it hasn’t. But they do not focus on it.

Instead, they focus on the good things, how living a quiet life suits them. They focus on Joe’s endless fascination and admiration for how Nicky changed. They focus on loving one another and making the most of all their days.

They travel when they want to, rediscovering memories in good places, make better ones in bad places. It’s a simple life, but a good one. They meet up with Nile and Booker when they are able, the two of them still together and doing what they can for the world. Joe joins them at random intervals when he’s needed or wanted, Nicky as well. Though now he stays out of sight, doing his best work with his sniper rifle when it’s needed.

A simple life, a quiet one. But still filled with excitement and adrenaline, when they want. And if Nicky joins Moose in doing research often enough that Moose gets exasperated because technology is not Nicky’s strong suit, no one has to know. Though Booker laughs at him when he has the chance. So everyone knows.

His favorite days still belong to Joe. Sleeping till late, spending slow and quiet mornings in bed, soft touches and lazy kisses that turn hot and possessive in mere minutes, their skin gliding together in a symphony well practiced and lovingly done, both of them screaming for an encore the minute they finish, even if Nicky’s body doesn’t always appreciate it these days. He still loves to bury his hands in Joe’s hair, tugging the way he knows Joe adores while pressing bruising kisses into his skin as Joe takes them in hand and brings them to completion on the less than good days, or one of them coming deep inside the other on the better days.

His body might grow older, but their passion never does.

———

Twenty years down the line and he’s noticeably older, his hair longer and full of grey, his body softer and slightly less defined even if he’s still muscled and fit. His body is technically in its 50s now, even if his mind and experience have passed a millennium.

They’re still in Malta, still in their cottage, still living a peaceful life. But over the ten years they’ve been joined by a Briard dog that Nicky found on the streets one day, his tawny colored fur matted and filthy, the dog angry and scared as Nicky approached it. Thankfully he’s always been patient, he has been with Joe for a very long time and his lover does know how to push buttons, so with a bit of time and some cold cuts he managed to get the dog safely back to their place.

Booker didn’t laugh the first time he heard the dog had been named after him, but a mangy and scared Frenchman, even if the man in question had four legs, was too good to pass up. A few years later and even Booker laughs when both he and the dog react to their names at the same time. And he’s always there to doggy sit if Nicky and Joe decide to travel.

He keeps being told of the adventures of Booker and Booker when they get back from their travels, never by Booker but by the people that live close to them. He decides early on to never tell Booker that he knows, just in case the day comes when he wants to tell them himself. He hasn’t so far but Nicky has faith, always faith.

Though Booker the dog doesn’t seem to be aging, so perhaps Booker the man has finally found the companion he’s been searching for. Nicky sincerely hopes that is the case.

Joe has taken to not being around the other people in their village, after twenty years in the same place without him looking any different, even if Nicky carefully dyes silver into his hair so it seems like he’s aging. Nicky thinks the town’s people know, or at least suspect, their… Joe’s secret. But no one seems to care. Just like no one comments on how Booker and Nile have never changed, on their yearly visit (that often turns into 6 times a year). Nicky pays close attention when he’s out and about with them, especially Joe, but the people around them just smile and greet them as if nothing is out of the ordinary. He’s incredibly thankful for it, he really doesn’t want to leave their place. Especially now that Joe has taken to not going on missions at all.

Instead he stays home with Nicky, seemingly loving the way he turns older, how his flesh fills out more in a natural way of aging, how his hair is turning more and more silver, how the blue of his eyes never loses their shine or affection for the things around them. Joe never stops touching him, never stops running his hands down his body or through his hair, kissing his neck or cheek or shoulder, whichever part that is reachable at the moment. Growing old with Joe by his side is a blessing in that he never feels unwanted or unloved, never feels like his ever changing body is a source of disgust or annoyance. He’s just loved in every moment of his mortal life, as he was in every moment of his immortal one.

It’s a wonderful feeling and it never stops being wonderful, spending the days within reach of Joe and in his arms.

———

Thirty years down the line and he’s in his 60s. He’s been completely fine with his aging body, but turning sixty has been the complete opposite. Especially with Joe’s still young and gorgeous self around. He hates how things are starting to sag, he hates how he can’t keep up with Joe, or even Booker and Nile anymore, he hates how old he feels compared to them. He hates that his foot still randomly hurts.

He has moments of extreme self consciousness, where taking off any piece of clothing in front of anyone, even Joe, wrecks hell on his confidence and self-image. He’s at times afraid to touch Joe because he believes that at any moment Joe will shy away from him, give him a look of unbearable disgust that would destroy his everything. Sometimes he forgets, his mind tricking him into thinking that he’s still young and immortal and he kisses Joe without thinking about it. He’s always horrified when he remembers. But Joe always smiles and wraps his arms around him, no sign of any discomfort on his face. He’ll whisper sweet words into Nicky’s ear and crook of his neck, biting him gently and sucking bruises into his skin, lazy kisses anywhere on his skin and flicking his tongue over the lobe of his ear to rile him up. It always makes Nicky chuckle, that soft, quiet chuckle of his, which in turn makes Joe smile widely and kiss him properly, his hands running up and down Nicky’s body like he never wants to let him go. It usually leads to slow and easy love making that lasts deep into the night, Joe coaxing as much pleasure out of Nicky as he possibly can, while Nicky himself just turns into a puddle of goo who is so deeply in love with his partner that nothing else matters. It reminds him of who they used to be, though Nicky knows that they’re still those people, even if he is older.

He needs the reminder that even if he has trouble loving himself at times, aging as he is, Joe has no trouble loving him, worshipping him, being thankful for every day by his side. He needs to remember, then he won’t have trouble believing it. And perhaps he won’t feel like he has to let Joe go, to live his life away from him and Booker (who really isn’t aging) so he can live it to his full potential with Nile and Booker and not stay with a sagging old man and an undying Briard. Joe wouldn’t leave even if he tried to put it forward and he won’t ever disrespect him like that. It would only cause a fight, one that Nicky doesn’t want to have. He loves Joe too much for that.

“Nicolò, il mio cuore, are you planning on joining me in this water or are you going to stay there all day?”

Nicky looks at Joe, laughing as he splashes around in the deep cerulean water not far from their cottage.

“No, my Yusuf, I don’t want to get my hair wet,” he replies, tugging slightly on his longer, now silvery hair.

Joe snorts, a deep sound that makes Nicky smile fondly, though the smile turns to a grin as Joe walks out of the water and towards him. His body is muscular and gorgeous, tanned skin stretching beautifully over lean hands and slender legs, his shoulders wide and so gorgeously touchable, his waist narrow and tapered. He’s slightly sad he can’t see Joe’s rear, but watching his front in tight swim trunks with the beautiful thighs that he knows the exact strength of is not a bad option. He still spins his finger, laughing lightly as Joe actually turns around and flexes, showing off his ass and his delightful back that Nicky has spent many hours touching, kissing, worshipping as if it is a wonder of the world. And to him it is.

“Prego,” he says as Joe looks over his shoulder. Joe winks and wiggles his ass just because he can before he turns around again and walks over, sitting down in Nicky’s lap facing him.

“I do like your silver hair,” Joe murmurs, his hands coming up to run through Nicky’s hair. Nicky closes his eyes and just relaxes into his talented hands, soft moans dropping unwittingly from his lips as Joe gently massages his head and tangles his fingers in his hair just the way he likes it.

“Jesus Christ, Nicky, you know what those moans do to me.”

Nicky opens his eyes, watching Joe bite his lower lip as he continues his ministration. “It feels very good when you touch me, Joe, you know this.”

“You are a goddamned tease, Nicky.” Joe uses his hands and pulls him close enough to give him a deep kiss. “No wonder I married you.”

“Did you? Marry me? I do not remember this.”

Joe mock gasps, one hand leaving Nicky’s hair to land dramatically on his chest. “Why I never. And here I thought we were madly in love and had a delightful ceremony.”

“You made me speak the Rite of Marriage since Booker said I would become a priest again when my immortality ended,” Nicky says, still smiling adoringly at his beloved, moving up to stroke along his lower back.

“Yes well, we had witnesses, the words were spoken, we both said yes. We’re married.”

“Of course we are, mi amore.” Nicky pushes himself forward to put a small kiss on Joe’s cheek. “I have married you many times during our years together and I will marry you as many more as you wish of me.”

“Molto bene,” Joe whispers, kissing Nicky softly. “Can I touch you?”

The damning insecurity rears its ugly head, making Nicky freeze without meaning for a second. He shakes it off, but Joe is already looking at him with a look he always hopes he doesn’t have to see. It’s not pity, it’s not despair. It’s just a look of understanding that feels wrong, even if it isn’t.. “I’m-“

“Please do not apologize, Nicky. You never have to apologize to me.” Joe sighs, his gaze deep and imploring as he looks at Nicky. “I love you no matter what you look like or feel like. You are the love of my life, nothing changes that.”

“I know,” Nicky replies. “My insecurities about me aging and you staying the same are catching up to me. I know you love me, I know you still desire me, I know you still look at me with lust in your eyes. My mind must catch up, but I do not always find it easy.”

“As long as you know that I do. And that you know I love touching you, feeling your skin against mine.” Joe runs his hands through Nicky’s hair as he talks, moving his hands down the front of his shirt and around to his ass. “I desire your presence every hour of every day and that will never stop. You are my heart, Nicky, and I love you more than life itself.”

“Did I not call you an incurable romantic, once?” Nicky asks softly. He probably has what Nile affectionately calls heart-eyes, but he does not mind one bit.

“Mm, in an armored van on our way to be tortured. What a life we’ve lived together.”

“We still have many years, Joe.” Nicky smiles, a hint of the smug smile he also knows Joe loves. “But for now, do with me as you please.”

“Any time you wish,” Joe replies, locking their lips together. And Nicky loses himself to the man he loves, gladly, willingly. Lovingly.

———

He’s closer to eighty, now. Forty years and change since he lost his immortality. He’s become much more frail in the last ten years, his back aching and his leg never really feels good any more. He’s in slight pain more often than not, even if he’s still in somewhat good shape. He still does light training with Joe when he feels up to it, still swims whenever he can so he can still feel somewhat fit next to Joe.

But he knows it won’t matter for much longer. He can feel it in his bones, in his faith, that he’s running out of time. His mortality has been good, what he remembers of the first thirty-three years and what he knows now of his last forty-five. And all those years in between, all of them with Joe. With Andy, Quynh, Booker, Nile, and Booker the Briard, who’s still running around, currently with the two-legged Booker and Nile who never leaves their side for long.

He’s lived a good life, and a very happy one with a lot of good days. But it’s now that he’s coming up on his last days that the sadness of leaving Joe appears again. It’s always been there, at the back of his mind. Lurking like a bad dream he will never be rid of, the day he goes off to pastures unknown without Joe.

Joe still loves him like he was thirty-three, like he was forty, fifty, sixty. They still sleep the same way they always have, Joe wrapped around him, they still have lazy mornings in bed and long make out sessions that leave them both breathless and panting. Nicky laments the fact that his libido has slowly disappeared more and more over the years, but he still gets an amazing thrill at seeing Joe in the midst of ecstasy, he still adores helping him through it, be it by hand or mouth or their greater collection of toys. He still wants and needs to give Joe everything he can, just like Joe does for him.

They’re having one of those lazy mornings in bed, Nicky tenderly wrapped in Joe’s arms when he notices it. At first he thinks his mind is playing a trick on him, a cruel joke on the last of his days. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and reopens them. It’s still there. His heart starts beating a bit faster, his breath taking a quicker pace.

“Joe. You have a bruise on your throat.”

For a moment, a second, two, there’s quiet. Their breaths can’t be heard as they’re holding them, the sound outside the window disappears, the creaking of their cottage stills.

“Are you sure?”

He hears the trepidation in Joe’s voice, and he nods instead of answering. His finger lifts to press slightly on it, he hears Joe do a sharp inhale as he feels it. And once again his everything lunges for a knife, but instead of the slashes he did all those years ago, he does a small cut to his finger. Much like the small cut Nicky did when he first discovered his mortality.

They both watch as the blood wells. And how it doesn’t stop welling as it’s wiped away.

“We’re mortal, together.”

Joe cries, after that. Nicky holds him tightly in his arms, as silent rivulets of tears run down Joe’s cheek. The last of Nicky’s days, and they’re finally here together. The way they’ve always been since they found one another all those years ago, after a few rough starts and a mountain of bad blood to wash away between them.

Nicky can’t help but thank his Dio, the God he might not always believe in anymore but still has faith in that he doesn’t have to live in the afterlife without Joe for long. He doesn’t doubt that Joe is sending his prayers to Allah for the same thing.

They stay in bed that day, the last of Nicky’s days. He knows it now, knows that this is what he was waiting for. Waiting for his faith to give him his happy ending, with the other half of his soul. He falls asleep in Joe’s arms like he has so many times before.

He knows no more from then on.

———

A few days later Booker, Booker the Briard, and Nile enter their cottage. Booker the Briard starts whining the second he gets through the door, running to the bedroom and opening the door with his paws the way he’s done a thousand times before. He stops in front of the bed, a soft woof leaving him as he looks at the two men on the bed.

Nile follows, Booker behind her. They stop inside the door, knowing instantly that both men are dead.

“Of course they went together,” Booker says, grief welling inside of him but still he smiles as he sees their two beloved friends, their family, wrapped together on their bed. In their home for so many years.

“Do you think...”

“No, Nile, they would not take their life like that. Nicky has always had faith that when it was his time to go Joe would follow. And Joe believed the same.” He smiles at her, taking her hand. “Nicky might’ve lost his immortality first, but Joe was never going to leave him alone. There wouldn’t be the one without the other. They were soulmates, from beginning to end. That’s all.”

“We need to bury them,” Nile says, after a few minutes. She’s holding Booker’s hand tightly, tears flowing freely. Grief unites them, but they both cannot help but be happy that Joe and Nicky are still together, wherever they are. “We’ll give them to their final resting place, together.”

“Together.”

———

Years later Booker and Nile dream. Dream of two men, waking up together in immortality. Their hands holding the other, flashes of blue eyes and curly dark hair.

They wake up and smile, Booker the Briard barking around them as if excited about something. Maybe reincarnation isn’t a thing, maybe it never will be. But they still choose to believe.

They find them in a cottage in Malta.

[itubainaretro]

TW // mentions of violence (the attack) 

Sunday, November 15th 2020 -  22:53 

Maybe right now Sander and Robbe are still together in Sander’s house, putting the last of their dinner away and almost done with cleaning the kitchen so they can head to Sander’s room and get settled for the night.

-

Usually, Robbe spends Sunday nights at home, with his mama, finishing some last minute homework and assignment that he had left unattended during the week, but not tonight. Tonight he’s staying at Sander’s place, just like he has been doing since Friday night, and he still thinks it’s cute how Sander made sure to ask Robbe’s mama himself if there was any problem with Robbe spending the entire weekend with him, including Sunday night, more than a week ago. She said there was no problem as long as Robbe finished his school work on time and really went to school on Monday morning and not skipped classes to stay with Sander. Robbe promised his mama he would be responsible and he made sure to keep that promise, finishing all his school work by Thursday and leaving for Sander’s house Friday afternoon after giving his mama’s cheek a kiss and hugging her goodbye.

Robbe didn’t think too much of it when Sander asked him, thinking maybe Sander just missed him and wanted to spend some alone time with him since his parents would be gone for the weekend so they would have the house all to themselves, besides, he would never pass up the opportunity to spend all the time he could with Sander, so he simply agreed to it, without giving it a second thought. 

Until he realised the date.

Things changed when Robbe woke up today and noticed what day it was and what happened to them a year ago. Their first date. The countless hours they spent at the bar, their bar, talking, getting to know each other, drinking, flirting and taking silly photos of one another. The breathtaking kisses they shared outside. And how it all came to an abrupt end. 

Robbe tried not to think too much about it, he tried to keep those memories out of his brain, locked in a box he shoved at the back of his mind and pretended to forget it existed. Instead he tried to focus on the good parts of the night, like when he got to the bar and saw Sander waiting for him by the bike racks with the most beautiful smile on his face, or when they entered the bar and Sander held the door open for him like a true gentleman, or when he pulled that stupid magic trick he learned when he was a kid and Sander found it amusing despite telling Robbe to stop, a sweet smile adorning his face.

It wasn’t the easiest thing to do, but he managed, being easily distracted by Sander’s presence and all the plans he had for them throughout the day. 

After waking up they watched an old movie, one of Sander’s favourites, in Sander’s bed, and stayed there cuddling for what felt like a thousand years, until their bellies started making weird noises, signaling it was time for them to get up and get some breakfast in their systems. They spent the rest of the morning listening to music and cleaning the mess they made in the kitchen yesterday, during their spontaneous instagram live to try out their new Croque 2000 machine, that was left there to be taken care of later after Sander’s near death experience choking on a tomato. They laughed while remembering Sander’s face after getting rid of the offensive tomato and hugging Robbe, thanking him for saving his life and promising to not try that ever again. Robbe couldn’t stop himself from kissing him and calling him a dork. 

For lunch they had some leftover pizzas they had had on Friday night and sometime during the afternoon, after taking a nap together in front of Sander’s TV while some random documentary played as background noise, Sander requested Robbe’s help in the kitchen again so they could start making dinner. Sander decided to go all out and make them pasta from scratch and it was a delight to see them both messing up until they finally got it right and managed to not only make a decent meal from scratch but a delicious one at that.

-

So right now they’re almost done with the dishes, Robbe washing and rinsing everything and Sander drying them and putting them back in their rightful places. 

After rinsing the last of the cutlery, Robbe washes his hands and waits for Sander to finish drying and putting everything away, leaning on the counter and smiling as he sees Sander shaking his head to the music that plays softly from his phone.

As soon as Sander puts away the last fork he was drying he absentmindedly throws the dishcloth somewhere near the table and grabs Robbe’s waist and pulls him into a kiss. It takes Robbe a bit by surprise but he soon after follows Sander’s lead, opening up to him as soon as he feels Sander’s tongue grazing his bottom lip, asking for entrance. It’s urgent, fast, all consuming and all Robbe can think about, feel and smell is Sander, Sander, Sander.

They make their way to Sander’s room, closing the door out of habit, and Sander pushes Robbe against it to kiss him again. It’s another urgent kiss, but this time it feels desperate, like they’re both trying to hold onto something they don’t know how to name. It feels off.

Sander is the first one to break the kiss, breathing heavily and leaning his head against Robbe’s with his eyes still closed. He takes a deep breath and Robbe waits for him to say something, gently caressing his neck from where his hand had found its way to earlier, hoping it soothes him.

Sander shakes his head, sighing. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” Robbe whispers, “it’s okay.”

“No,” Sander shakes his head again, “it’s not.”

Robbe pulls away a little, trying to search for Sander’s eyes, but he still has them closed. He caresses his thumb across Sander’s laugh lines and hopes he understands what Robbe wants from him. Sander opens his eyes but doesn’t meet Robbe’s gaze, looking down instead.

“San, look at me,” Robbe tries again. “Please?”

Sander finally looks at him and the sight of Sander’s defeated green eyes is enough to make Robbe’s heart break.

“What’s wrong, baby? Talk to me.”

“I’m sorry.”

Robbe shakes his head. “Sander, there’s nothing to apologise for. What’s going on?” 

“Yes, there is,” Sander nods. “Tonight I wanted to show you how that night was supposed to go, how it was supposed to have ended,” his voice is barely a whisper. “But I don’t think I can.”

Robbe takes a sharp inhale of breath and silence falls between them.

After a few seconds Sander breaks the silence. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for bringing it up and I’m sorry for that night as well.” He sounds choked up.

Robbe shakes his head and engulfs Sander in a hug. “Sander, please, it wasn’t your fault,” he whispers in his neck. “It was never your fault.”

Sander holds him tight and both of them can feel the other’s tears making a wet trail in their clothes the moment they both break down crying.

“And we were both thinking about it the whole day today, so don’t apologise for bringing it up either,” Robbe’s voice is hoarse.

They stand like that, just holding each other for a long time, until Sander pulls away a little bit and kisses Robbe’s forehead, disentangling them from the hug and leading them to his bed.

When they get settled, side by side, Robbe is the first one to speak. “Do you want to talk about it?”

They never properly talked about that night, about how they felt or how hard it was, avoiding all the pain that came with the memory of it, just that they shouldn’t let the existence of close-minded people allow them to make their world smaller, but Robbe thinks it’s about time they do, as painful as it sounds.

Sander nods. 

“I tried helping you, but I wasn’t fast enough,” Sander starts. “I’m sorry about that.” His eyes are still gleaming with the tears he shed earlier. “And I’m sorry we had to go through that, I wished it had never happened...”

Robbe grabs his hand and gives it a gentle squeeze.

“But most of all I’m sorry for what I said and how I treated you after”, Sander continues. “That wasn’t a case of shit happens, Robbe. It could’ve cost us our lives and we should’ve gone to the police, and I know it’s no excuse, but I was afraid. I was so scared, Robbe. I didn’t want to relive that night ever again and just the thought of having to tell someone what happened and go back to those memories, tracing step by step of what and how everything happened killed me, that’s why I told you we shouldn’t go. I’m so sorry.”

Robbe hugs Sander closer and lets his head rest on his shoulder, trying to give him some sort of comfort and seeking some for himself too. He feels Sander dropping a kiss to his hair before he takes another breath and speaks again.

“And the thing with Britt, I….”

Robbe squeezes Sander’s hand. “San, it’s okay.” Because they’ve already talked about that, and Robbe doesn’t want to make Sander talk about all the things that hurt him, hurt them, all at once if he’s not ready for it.

Sander musters up enough courage and goes on anyways. “Somehow I made myself believe it was all my fault and that you’d be better off without me, safer... and I couldn’t bear the thought of something ever happening to you again, Robbe, so I had to keep you away from me. I deliberately tried to push you away, even though I knew it would hurt you, because I thought you being with me would hurt you much more, and I couldn’t have that. That’s why I went to that party and kissed Britt and let her post those stupid photos. As soon as I did it, though, I knew it was wrong. But there was no going back then, it was already too late…” Sander shakes his head. “I’m sorry.”

Robbe starts crying at the same time he feels Sander’s tears falling down on him, so he turns around and climbs into Sander’s lap to hug him as close as humanly possible in that moment. Sander squeezes his shoulders, burying his face on Robbe’s neck, and doesn’t let go.

After some time, when their tears have subsided and they’re just trying to find comfort in each other’s arms Sander rearranges them so they’re sitting in a more comfortable position, facing each other. 

Robbe bites his lips before finding the courage to talk too. He breathes in and out twice before he starts. “The first thing I need you know is that it wasn’t your fault, Sander. None of it was, you know that, right?” 

When Sander nods, he continues. “Please believe it.” 

Robbe gives him a lingering kiss on the forehead before speaking again. “I wish it had never happened to us either and I’m sorry it did. I’m sorry I couldn’t unlock my bike fast enough or reach you when those guys came for us, I was so scared too...” he takes a deep breath. “And I’m sorry we couldn’t support each other the way we needed to in the aftermath.” 

Sander grabs his hands and gives it a squeeze, interlocking their fingers and resting their hands on his lap.

“But the way we reacted wasn’t our fault either, Sander. We both went through a huge trauma that night and what we did afterwards was us barely trying to find a way to cope with whatever was being thrown our way. It hurt, yes. You hurt me, but deep down I always knew there was a deeper meaning behind the things you did. You weren’t doing those things out of spite to purposefully hurt me. You’re not cruel, San. I know you and I know your heart, and I know we weren’t together for long back then, but I knew you then as well. And I knew you wouldn’t want to hurt me just because.”

Robbe disentangles one of his hands from Sander’s grasp and lifts it up to caress his cheek. Sander nuzzles into it and Robbe smiles weakly. He brings their faces close and rests his forehead against Sander’s.  

“But if you need to listen to this to make peace with it I’ll tell you: I forgive you, Sander,” Robbe says sincerely. “I had already forgiven you back then, when you found your way back to me in the flatshare on that Friday night,” he caresses Sander’s cheek again. “But I need you to do something for me too.”

“Anything.” Sander answers in a beat.

“Forgive yourself too,” Robbe whispers. 

Sander nods and hugs Robbe tight against his chest, Robbe’s fingers finding their way to Sander’s hair like it’s second nature and staying there for a long time.

“I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like you couldn’t talk to me about this,” Robbe whispers some time later against Sander’s ear. “What happened that night hurt the both of us, Sander, and if you ever feel the need to talk about it you can talk to me, no matter how much it hurts me. I know it hurts you too.” His voice breaks. “But you’ve always been there for me when I needed you and I want to be there for you too, okay?”

Robbe can feel Sander nodding against him.

“We will get through this together,” Robbe reassures Sander. “It may have taken us a whole year to talk about it, but we finally did it and now we can finally start healing from this together, like we always do.”

Sander’s voice trembles when he speaks. “I know.” 

“I love you, and nothing will ever change that, okay? Please remember it.”

“I love you too. More than anything.”

Robbe closes the distance between them and kisses Sander.

-

They spend the rest of the night in bed curled around each other underneath the covers, still talking about that night, but trying to focus on the good part of it instead. Trying to separate the traumatic event from the happy memories they had from their first date.

“I was feeling like the luckiest man in the world, Robin,” Sander smiles down at Robbe, still playing with his hair that’s going in a million different directions now since Robbe’s been  resting his head on his chest for the past hour. “You looked so pretty in all those lights.”

Sander can feel Robbe’s smile before he sees it. “Despite us only having had that one beer I think I have never felt drunker in my life than I felt that night,” Robbe admits, looking up at Sander, an adorable smile adorning his face. “I guess maybe I was just love drunk.” 

Sander can’t help leaning down to give him a quick kiss.

“I know I keep talking about us going back to that bar until it feels right again because it’s our bar, but you know we have all the time in the world, right?” Sander asks. “It doesn’t have to happen now, or a week from today, or even in the next 10 years, okay? I don’t care if it takes us our whole lifetimes to go back there again, I just want you to feel safe. That’s the only thing that matters.”

“I know,” Robbe reassures him, nodding. “We’ll take things day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute.” He smiles. “We’ll get there eventually.”

Sander nods. “And I’m sorry to bring the topic back,” he says hesitantly, “but if we still want to report what happened to the police we can. There’s no expiration date for these things and it doesn’t matter if they’ll catch whoever did that to us or not, we still have a right to let the police know what happened to us.”

“Thank you,” Robbe whispers. “I know it won’t be easy to talk about it, for neither of us, and I actually don’t even know if I’m ready to talk about this with anyone else besides you for now, but thank you for letting me know.” He rearranges himself in the bed so he can be on Sander’s level and look him in the eyes, both boys now laying on their sides. “When we’re both ready we’ll do it. Together.”

Sander nods and gives him a soft kiss. 

Robbe’s hand travels up to Sander’s face, gently caressing the small scar he has by the side of his eye, making Sander close his eyes at the soft touch. “Thank you for being so patient with me...” Robbe whispers so close to Sander’s mouth that both boys can feel the vibrations of the words on their lips. “... and thank you for tonight.”

Robbe can feel Sander’s small smile on his own lips when he speaks. “There’s no need to thank me, I love you.” He emphasizes his words with a kiss. “And the night didn’t go exactly as planned, so…” He trails off.

“Maybe not, but it happened the way it was supposed to happen this time,” Robbe says. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way, San. I’m exactly where I want to be. Laying in your bed with you, not even an inch separating us from each other,” he reassures him. “I feel like talking about this has made my heart the calmest it’s ever been,” he confesses.

“Mine too,” Sander agrees, smiling.

“See?”, Robbe smiles genuinely at Sander. “I’m happy and I hope that you’re happy too.”

“I am,” Sander’s smile is the most beautiful thing Robbe has ever seen in his life. “I really am.”

[wanna-do-bad-things]

You Belong To Me.

Summary: Y/N is Henry’s co-star and unbeknown to them at the start, an Omega meant for him.

Type: AU.

Word count: 1223

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics, size kink, strong language, masturbation (both fingers and toys).

A/N: I’ve never written this before and so I’m a little nervous, especially as this is quite different, especially for Henry. It’s something no one asked for, no one wanted but I just played around with this. It’s only short because I didn’t want to go all out if it wasn’t truly wanted. If you do read it, I hope you like it :)

I’ve not included my tag list because of the theme. I didn’t want to make you feel as though you had to acknowledge this if it wasn’t for you.

I’m basically hitting post and then hiding until I work up the courage to post again. 

_____

You’d known early on how easy it was to be in Henry’s presence. He had a way about him, an ease which made you feel calm, especially when working with certain people who gave you the heebie-jeebies without you really knowing why. His broad grin, the pop in his cheek and the way his eyes will crinkle as he smiles is every woman’s weakness. 

His words, both as sweet as they sounded, could win over any parents, though you know deep down that he had the ability to compliment your mom on her cooking while the fingers of the hand beneath the table were deep inside of you.

You didn’t believe for one moment Henry was all sweetness and innocence. You’d felt the way he’d gripped you close to his body, held you there as he’d thrown you around during filming. He picked you up as though you weighed nothing despite that not being the case. He never faltered, never adjusted, never made any sign of discomfort; just held you there in his arms like a rag doll as his lips had crashed upon yours and the thick outline of his cock had pressed against you. You could smell the Alpha scent radiating from him and you knew you should have run, but if you’d smelt him, he’d certainly sniffed you out too.

The first time your tongues had mixed, something had ignited within you and judging from the way he reacted, within him too. His eyes had darkened as he pulled away and the look on his face as he tried to work it out was something else entirely. He’d pulled his tongue over his lips, your pussy had clenched at the sight of it and if the thought of grinding yourself against his mouth as he devoured you hadn’t entered your mind before then, it certainly had now. He was testing you, needing to see how you reacted and you wanted nothing more than to make him work for it.

You’d checked once, twice, three times and hell, even a fourth to make sure. You knew your cycle, you knew when you were due to come into heat and it wasn’t supposed to be yet. It shouldn’t be now. The closer you and Henry became, the worse it was. Acting was difficult at the best of times but more so now when the lines were blurring more than ever. The chemistry you’d hoped would show on screen was thick in the air with each new scene the two of you shot.

The first time you’d come into heat was not long after the two of you had begun working together. If his demeanor had changed after the kiss, it was nothing compared to the way he was around you when you needed that touch. You’d curl yourself in a ball in your hotel room, sweat soaking through your shirt even though you were only in a simple cotton t-shirt and a small pair of panties. You shouldn’t be as hot as you were, yet the pain and need building in your body had you writhing around in frustration until you’d pushed your hand between your legs and pictured all the things you desperately wanted Henry to do to you.

Tonight is no different. Your pants fill the room, your back arches from the mattress as your fingers stroke over your swollen clit and three are inside of you. Your vibrator had been used, and this was the 5th or 6th orgasm that you were bringing yourself to. You should be overstimulated, the bed is soaked from your previous climaxes, your thighs are splattered with your juices and weak from tensing them. Your toes ache from the way you’ve curled them as your vision has split into white noise when euphoria had hit and yet after it’s gone away, rather than feeling satisfied, it’s there again like nothing had happened. Your pussy walls are swollen, pulsing around your fingers as they envelope them.

Your mind fills with images of your co-star. His thick arms, the feel of his chest hair beneath your palms as you’ve kissed. You remember oh too well the taste of him too. If you think hard enough, you can remember the feel of his cock against your belly, your inner thigh as he’d pressed against you, pulling your knee up to his waist and forcing you to wrap it around his waist. Sex scenes should be awkward with over twenty other people in the room with you, hot studio lights burning down and cameras filming from every angle but it had felt natural.

Your orgasm takes over as you think of the way his facial hair would feel against the soft skin of your inner thighs as his mouth presses to your cunt, his tongue deep inside of you as his thumb rubs the very same circles against your clit as you do. Your fingers curl within you, hitting your g-spot with precision by this point and already you feel your current orgasm rolling into the next one. Your muscles tighten around your fingers so tightly it’s hard for you to move them but you do, needing to feel something else other than the burning need to mate with him.

A bang outside of your door and raised voices echo along the hallway breaks your thoughts. A second bang and the wall your door is on shaking has you sitting up abruptly, your hands pull from between your thighs quickly, and you reach for your discarded clothes. The voices are still arguing, Henry’s is cutting above the second, someone you don’t recognize by vocal alone but you can smell him; another alpha. You’re able to catch the odd word, most of it muffled by the fire door thickness as you wash your hands, not wanting to go out with your juices still coated over your skin but when you do, it’s a miracle you don’t come on the spot at the sight before you.

Anger radiates from Henry, his forearm is pressed against the other man’s throat as he pins him to the wall. Words are being uttered in a level too low for you to hear but the look on his face is both terrifying and arousing. Your wetness only increases at the sight of it, and when he turns his face towards you, you know he can smell it.

“Get the fuck out of here.” He hisses, lowering his arm and shoving the guy away from him with such force, he stumbles away from him and trips, sprawling to the floor but neither you nor Henry give him a second glance.

“I’ve tried to stay away, I’ve tried to ignore it but tonight I can’t.”

“You’re in rut.” And the other guy must have been a potential, driven here from another room by your scent which had kick started Henry’s dominance. Given the way the two of you are together, you couldn’t see Henry stepping aside and allowing someone else to claim you.

“And you need someone to fuck that out of you.”

“You don’t have anyone else who can satisfy your needs?”

“I could, but then I heard you moan my name three orgasms ago and no-one else is going to be as tempting as you are right now. Say the word and I’m yours.”

[lewdanimevsirl]

Do you know whale have 1500 litres?

WARNING: This story is a work of fiction and contains many mature elements. Please do not continue if you are unable to handle such content.

NOTE: The characters in this story are based on their depiction in Fate Grand Order which is developed by Delightworks and based on Type-Moon's Fate franchise. I am neither a marine biologist nor a lore expert, thus some terms and information used may be inaccurate, but I have provided references (you hardly see those in these type of content) at the end. Sorry for any weird English or grammatical mistakes.

Summer

Jeanne d' Arc, Maid of Orléans, Holy Maiden of Salvation, Ruler. And now lying on the shoreline in front of me, covered in white gooey substance and her swimsuit all torn and tattered. Her black bikini was hanging off her body while her blue hoodie was covered in white sticky substances. How did this even happen?

It was summer, and like most servants, Jeanne had a summer-swimsuit form. The holy maiden of the tropics, the star of the dolphin world. I always wonder why she became an archer that shoots dolphins. But after this incident, I realised the truth behind it….

A few months ago,

Ever since I summoned Jeanne into Chaldea, we had a healthy Master-Servant relationship. We fought enemies together, we shared our worries together, we shared our joy together.

One day resting with Jeanne after a hard day of farming,

"I can't wait for summer to come. Can't wait to just sit back and enjoy myself." I entered my room and slammed my face onto the bed. "We really deserve the break from all the farming and fighting that we do. Not to mention we can finally bring out those swimsuits." "Yes, it's good to take a break." Jeanne followed behind me and took a seat at the table.

"Jeanne! Anything you looking forward to in the summer?"

"Summer? Hmmmm…. Heading to the beach. Can't wait to meet Reece. I missed him," Jeanne smiled while answering the question.

"Reece?! Oh ya, your dolphin… You never did tell me how you met Reece" I sat back up, hoping that Jeanne would share some stories about her dolphin with me.

"Ahh… uhm… It's a long story, we can leave it for another day." Jeanne quickly brushed off the question.

"Fineeee… But mind introducing me to Reece? I would love to chill with a dolphin!"

"Uhm… sure, Master, if you don't mind…"

I did not notice it then, but Jeanne was embarrassed and was hesitating with her words. I thought it was because she was tired, so I did not ask her any further questions. But it was during summer, that I finally found out the truth behind her words.

Summer

Finally, it is summer. I can sit back and enjoy myself. No more farming. No more grinding. I get to enjoy myself on the beach and enjoy the cold sea breeze. Well, that is what I thought I would be doing. But instead, I am stuck in a crammed room, helping the Dragon Witch, Jeanne Alter AKA Jalter (Jeanne's tsundere alter) with her work.

"May I come in?" a knock from the door interrupted our discussion over the work.

"Stop interrupting us! State your purpose and leave," Jalter shouted intensely, "Some of us have work to do!" "I am sorry, I just want to ask if Master is free now" the door swinged open and Jeanne sheepishly entered the room.

"Master, how do I look?" Jeanne strolled happily into the room, dressed in a black bikini wrapped around with a blue hoodie. "You asked about my swimsuit the other day."

"You look stunning…." I replied immediately only to be met by a stack of paper slapped onto my face. "Stop staring her and start doing work, you pathetic Master!" "Sorry you tsundere Witch, I am just complimenting your sister! Don't tell me you are jealo…" another stack of paper hit my face before I could finish my sentence.

"Sorry Jeanne, I am unable to join you and meet Reece now. I need to help this annoyance with her work…." I apologised to Jeanne. "You better be!" Jalter quipped in. "Don't wait for me, you should enjoy the summer. I will find you after I am done."

Jeanne looked at the piles of papers stacked across the room. "It's fine Master, work is important. I will just head off first. Will not interrupt you guys any further" Jeanne took a bow and start making her way out. "So sorry about…." "Quit yapping! We need to get this done by today." Jalter interrupted me as I sadly watched Jeanne exit the room, leaving the both of us struggling with work.

At the Beach

"Jeanne, you look loving today!" "Jeanne, join us!" "Jeanne, pity Master could not join us!"

While I was stuck in a crammed little room helping Jalter with her doujins, the rest of the Servants were enjoying themselves at the beach. Some of them lying along the shore suntanning, some of them swimming and surfing, and there was even a sandcastle competition.

"Jeanne, are you not joining us?" "Sorry, not today. I have something I need to do." Jeanne politely declined the other Servants. Instead of partaking in the activities with the rest of the Servants on the main beach, Jeanne made her way onto the far side of the beach.

"Now that Master is busy, I should take the time to indulge myself" Jeanne thought to herself as she walked towards the far corner of the beach.

Far side of the beach

"Reece!" Jeanne ran towards the shoreline and shouted for her beloved dolphin.

Squeaking and splashing noises could be heard as a dolphin could be seen swimming towards the shoreline.

"I miss you so much!" Jeanne run towards Reece and hug the dolphin tightly. Reece rubbed against Jeanne and squeaked in delight. "I know you are excited, but not here Reece. You know the drill, let us go further out." Reece squeaked and started swimming towards a rock formation at the corner of the shore.

"Smart boy, you know what I wanted" As Reece swam back from the rocks, he brought back a raft. The raft appeared stable and looked as though it has been used multiple times. Jeanne boarded the raft and petted Reece on the snout. "I know you are excited, I am too, let's go so that I can give you your reward." Reece squeaked and started pulling the raft towards the middle of the ocean.

"I wonder how Scrooge has been doing. It has been a long time."

Although research on the anatomy of aquatic mammals and how they reproduce is still ongoing, current research has found that the reproductive organs of aquatic mammals such as dolphins (Howard, 2009) and whales (Whales Online, n.d.) are hidden in a genital slit. During mating, the penis of the male partner will protrude out of the genital slit and penetrate the female's vagina. Due to this, many aquatic mammals mate either belly to belly or turned on the side.

Dolphins do not only engage in sexual acts with the intent of reproduction. They also driven to engage in such acts for pleasure. "It is more accurate to state that animals (including humans and dolphins) are often driven to engage in sexual acts because the act itself is rewarding" (Dolphins Communication Project, 2014).

A typical size of a common dolphin's penis is approximately the size of a human hand (Lunau, 2017). However, they have a prehensile penis, meaning they can "swivel, grab and grope, much like a human hand" (Wetzel, 2020). This is so that they can navigate the "unusual vaginal folds, spirals and recesses" (Orbach, 2017)

In the middle of the ocean

"Alright Reece, this is far enough." The dolphin stopped and started squeaking loudly. "Alright alright, I shall reward you for your effort." Jeanne leaned forward and petted Reece on the snout, before kissing him on the lips.

People have often wondered about the story behind Jeanne and Reece. Some say Jeanne rescued Reece from captivity. Others say Reece respect Jeanne for being a holy maiden of the sea. But unlike the simple and typical girl-meeting-dolphin stories that people believed, the truth is that Jeanne and Reece helped to fulfil each other's sexual needs.

Jeanne slowly descend into the ocean while leaning against the edge of the raft. "Alright Reece, I am ready! Time to receive your reward!" Reece squeaked and started swimming around Jeanne, before stopping in front of her and rubbing his snout against her chest.

"Stop it Reece, you know what I want." Reece stopped rubbing and ascended with his penis protruding out of his genital slit. "Good boy! This is what I have been waiting for! Enjoy your reward, you naughty boy." Jeanne began rubbing Reece's penis with her hands before placing it into her mouth.

You might think the irregular-shaped prehensile penis is unable to fit into the Holy Maiden's petite mouth. But Jeanne was experienced in putting irregular-shaped objects into her mouth. Jeanne started bobbing her head back and forth, licking the tip of Reece's penis while rubbing it. "Someone has been a bad boy, someone's cock is grabbing my tongue, so aggressive." Jeanne continued to lick Reece's penis while occasionally touching herself.

After a few moments, loud squeaking sound could be heard. Reece squeaked loudly as he erupted all his dolphin semen into Jeanne's mouth. White gooey dolphin semen dripped down Jeanne's mouth and splattered onto her black bikini and blue hoodie. "Delicious! Just like the first day we met." With a single gulp, Jeanne swallowed it and started licking her mouth. She then proceeded to lick Reece's penis clean. "I hope you enjoyed your reward Reece," Jeanne kissed the happy dolphin on the snout. "Now that you are clean, I need you to call Scrooge for me."

Instead of calling for Scrooge, Reece squeaked and started to nibble Jeanne's breasts. Within seconds, the dolphin had bitten Jeanne's bikini top off and began to nibble on her nipples. "Stop it… Hyahh… Reece! I… Ahhhh… already given… Hyah… your reward." Jeanne tried to stop Reece in between moans. "I… Ahhh… know you…. Haa… want to… Hyahhh… make me cum… Ahhh…but I am…Uhh… preparing for… Hah… the main course."

Reece whimpered softly and stopped nibbling. "I know you are a good boy and you definitely made me happy with all the dolphin cum, but I am preparing for Scrooge." Jeanne petted the dolphin. "I will let you do me next time, alright?" Reece squeaked loudly and started diving into the ocean.

"Ok, time to prepare for the main course." Jeanne laid back onto the raft and adjusted her black bikini bottom such that her vagina is exposed. "I wonder if Scrooge will be happy to see me." Jeanne thought to herself while she touched her own breasts and vagina.

Soon, a rumbling sound could be heard beneath the ocean.

Like the dolphins, the penis of the blue whale is prehensile to navigate the multiple folds of the female's vagina (Whales Online, n.d.). However, the size of the blue whale is much larger than that of a dolphin. An average size of a blue whale penis is 2.4 metres (Whales Online, n.d.). When erect, it expands to about 30cm (12 inches) in diameter and about 3m (10 feet) in length (University of Wisconsin, 2012). "The erect penis can be guided using muscles, almost as if it were equipped with a homing device" (Whales Online, n.d.). In addition, "each ejaculation of a blue whale could produce around 20 litres of sperm" (Whales Online, n.d.).

During mating, the male and female will spend time rolling around each other, before flying upwards and crossing the surface. As they cross the surface, "the male will thrust his penis into the vulva and ejaculates" (University of Wisconsin, 2012).

In the middle of the ocean

Jeanne always hated having to act prim and proper. On the surface, she would put on the demeanour of a pure and innocent holy maiden, but when she is alone, she would often indulge in self-pleasure.

Ever since she became the Holy Maiden of the Sea, it has become an annual tradition for Jeanne to meet up with Reece and Scrooge. She provided them with love and comfort, in return, they provided her with the sexual release that she desired, that she craved, that she needed.

A loud roaring sound could be heard as a blue whale emerged from the sea.

"Oh Scrooge, I have missed you and your long enormous cock so much! Come on and devour me, you naughty boy!" If anyone were there, they would have not believed that the Holy Maiden of Salvation would be lying on a raft, in a seductive position, fingering her own vagina and saying such sexual things.

The blue whale roared as water sprayed out of his blowhole. "Someone's excited! Come on Scrooge, let us not wait around and fuck me already!" Jeanne screamed as the blue whale approached the small and petite Jeanne lying on the tiny raft. As Scrooge approached the raft, the shadow of a 3m penis could be seen emerging from his genital slit, covering the entire raft.

Back in the room with Gudao and Jalter

"Finally! We are done with these!" I shouted as I slammed the last piece of doujin onto the ground. "I can finally head out to the beach and enjoy myself!"

I should have been at the beach enjoying myself, soaking the warm sun and enjoying the waves. But instead, for the past few hours, I have been stuck in this crammed room helping Jalter with her work. I even had to give up the chance of hanging out with Jeanne and Reece.

"We could have finished this an hour ago if someone had not fallen asleep on my lap." Jalter shouted from the couch that was covered with piles of paper, while scrolling through her phone.

"While at least I don't droo…." A pillow slammed into the face, interrupting me mid-sentence. Throwing the pillow back at Jalter, I retorted "At least, I don't sit around and used my phone all day."

"Ya, whatever," Jalter shrugged both the thrown pillow and my remarks off. "But at least I found this meme about that holy saint." My eyes lit up with interests as soon as I heard that. "You can't just say something like that and not show me!" I rushed towards Jalter and tried to grab her phone. Jalter immediately kicked me on the face in response. "Stop trying to snatch my phone, you pathetic Master. Alright, I will show you before you destroy my phone."

Jalter pulled back her leg and showed her phone to me. "This one here. The one that they compared that holy saint to a blue whale."

The picture on the phone read "Did you know that the Maid of Orleans, Jeanne d'Arc, is 159cm in height. But Blue Whale's penis is about 2.4-3.0m in length, which is almost twice of her height"

"Oh, and this one here"

The next picture read "Did you know that the maiden of orleans, Jeanne d'Arc, weighed 44 kilos. In contrast, a blue whale can ejaculate around 1500 litres of semen"

"What the fuck Jalter?! What the fuck did I just read?! What am I even supposed to do with that information?!"

"It is a meme, idiot. You are not supposed to do anything with it." Jalter continued to use her phone amidst my confused and panicked screaming. "Only a degenerate would draw or write anything based on this information, which I hope you are not"

"I guess you are right, there is no chance Jeanne would associate herself with whale penis and whale semen. I know, I shall find Jeanne and tell her…."

"Hahahaha," A crackling laughter could be heard coming from Jalter. "Ya, you tell her about whale penis and whale semen. I cannot wait for her to look at you with eyes of contempt and disgust."

"Well, Jeanne isn't like you, you big tsundere of a witch…" As soon as those words come out of my mouth, Jalter snapped and started throwing pillows at me. I quickly ran out of the room with Jalter chasing after me with murderous eyes. "You little shit, I am so going to kill you!"

"Jeanne! Save me!"

Meanwhile in the middle of the ocean

"Yes Scrooge! Fuck me! Pump it into my pussy!" The Maid of Orléans moaned loudly as the blue whale positioned his 3m penis near her vagina. "Come on Scrooge! Give it…" Jeanne's words were interrupted with loud moans of pleasure as the blue whale penis began to insert slowly into her vagina. The force from the whale's penis caused Jeanne' bikini bottom to snapped and hanged off her body.

"Ahhh… Hyahhh…" Screams and moans of pleasure could be heard emitting from the mouth of the Holy Maiden. A rush of satisfaction and joy had washed over her. Her mind was lost to the pleasure derived from the penetration of the blue whale's penis into her vagina.

Since Jeanne's vagina could barely fit the tip of Scrooge's penis, any movement made by Scrooge resulted in Jeanne erupting into moans of pleasure. "Yessss… Fuck me…. Deeper… Scrooge…" Uncontrollable moans filled the air as Jeanne gripped tightly to the side of the raft while her vagina was being ravaged by a 3m blue whale's penis.

"Arghhhhh!"

Jeanne erupted into orgasmic pleasure as she ejaculated all over Scrooge's penis. Her fluid sprayed all over the blue whale's penis that was still inside her. As she laid on the raft panting, Scrooge continued to move his penis, which caused Jeanne to resume moaning and screaming.

"Ahhhh…. Scrooge… Stop… Ahhh… Give me… a break…" Jeanne tried to get Scrooge to slow down amidst all her moans and screams. But it is to no avail. The horny blue whale ignored her pleas and continued pumping into her vagina.

"Hyahhhhh!"

Jeanne screamed in pleasure as she ejaculated again all over the large rod penetrating her. She laid on the raft, paralysed, her mind long broken by the pleasure she experienced. Her facial expression was something unbecoming of a holy saint. She had been fucked senseless by the blue whale that was still penetrating her. Although she was unable to move her body consciously, her lower half continued to twitch and vibrate with every movement and every pump that Scrooge made.

As her body prepared for her third consecutive orgasm, Scrooge started to roar loudly, and water began to sprout out of his blowhole. The 3m penis started vibrating and a wave of semen began to shoot out of it into Jeanne's vagina.

At the same moment that Jeanne erupted into her third ejaculation, her vagina was engulfed by a sea of whale semen. As Scrooge starts to retract his penis back, whale semen continued to shoot out of it, eventually covering the Holy Maiden and the raft. Traces of whale semen sprayed onto her blue hoodie and black bikini.

There lies the Maid of Orléans, Holy Maiden of Salvation on a tiny raft, swimsuit torn and tattered, covered with whale semen, with a mixture of her own fluid and whale cum leaking out of her vagina.

Scrooge roared loudly and started diving back into the sea. As he did, he created a wave that started sending the mind-broken Jeanne back into the shore.

A few moments ago, at the beach

"Oh look, a whale!" "You hardly see one of those around, especially when it is not whale season."

I was at the beach, busy looking around for Jeanne, when a water sprout could be seen in the ocean. Most of the Servants were captivated by what seem to be a whale.

"Have anyone seen Jeanne anywhere? I am looking for her."

"Jeanne? I spotted her heading there." Musashi pointed to the far side of the beach. "She might be chilling with her dolphin."

"Thanks so much!" I thanked Musashi as I quickly headed towards the far side of the beach. But I was not prepared for the scene that would soon be presented in front of me.

Far side of the beach

"Jeanne! Jeanne!"

I shouted for Jeanne while walking towards the far side of the beach. "Where did Jeanne go?" I thought to myself as I had not seen a single soul on my way there.

Nearing the end of the beach, I spotted something white floating along the shoreline. Curiosity got the better of me as I ran towards the white unknown thing, hoping to find out what it is. If only I was not that curious, if only I had given up on finding Jeanne, then I would not have to face the terrible truth that I was able to witness.

"What in the world…" The white thing has a humanoid shape and it looked to be wearing a swimsuit. I inched closer to it, hoping to figure out what it is…

"What?! Noo… No…. Why…." I finally figured out what the white humanoid thing and as soon as I did, I fallen to my knees in despair. I could not believe my own eyes at the very sight that was displayed in front of me.

The sweet innocent Jeanne d' Arc, swimsuit torn and tattered, with her bikini just hanging off her body. The Holy Maiden of Salvation Jeanne d' Arc, covered in white gooey fluid, and fluid oozing out of her lower regions. The Maid of Orléans Jeanne d' Arc, with a face of euphoria as if she had been fucked senseless.

"… …" I was speechless and I had no idea how to react anymore. I sat on the beach, staring at the atrocity that was lying in front of me, unable to process anything or do anything. I just sat there, paralysed by the sight that was in front of me.

"… … Oh… Master… You are here…"

After what felt like forever, Jeanne finally spoke. "How… do I look? Guess… you finally… see my true self…" Jeanne calmly sat back up and started cleaning the white gooey fluid that was lingering on her body. To my horror, she started to lick the fluid that had covered her hands and face.

"… Yes Master… I am a naughty saint… I am not your innocent good girl… I love cocks… and love being fucked in my pussy…"

I could not believe the words coming out from Jeanne's mouth. The person sitting on the beach in front of me was an entirely different person that had fought together with me, that had laughed together with me, that had cried together with me.

"Oh… Are you thinking about this fluid? It is Scrooge's cum…" I stared at her with a face of disbelief. "You know… Scrooge… my blue whale? Ya… this is his cum…" Jeanne continued to explain while fingering out some of the fluid oozing out of her vagina and licking it seductively. "I don't know why you are surprised… Did you not read my skills? A constant supply of mana near the sea? It comes from this… I had to get mana transfer somewhere…"

It was pure torture hearing those words, and it was even more painful seeing the sweet and holy Jeanne fingering herself and licking the fluid off her hands. I wanted to run away, but I don't know whether it is curiosity or fear, I was rooted to the ground, unable to escape from the horror that was in front of me.

"Uhm… Jeanne… Does the rest…" I tried to force some words out of my mouth to break the silence between me and Jeanne.

"Does the rest know? Of course not, you silly Master." Jeanne suddenly crawled towards me and placed her fluid-stained finger in my lips. "This is a secret between you and me, not even Jalter knows about this."

"I know! Let us make a deal!" Before I could even ask what she meant by that, she had already leaned onto and kissed me on the lips.

"Noo… Jeanne… Please… Stop…" I tried to struggle and break free from her, but the horny saint just gripped tightly onto my face and continued to kiss me aggressively. All I could taste was her cum-stained mouth and tongue. I could not escape. Somebody please save me from this nightmare.

"With this… this entire thing will be our dirty… little… secret." After what felt like an eternity, Jeanne finally let go of me. "If you are cooperative, I might even let… you… fuck… me…" Jeanne began to touch and finger herself at her vagina. Sensual moans began to emit from her mouth.

At that point, I could not take it anymore. I fumbled myself away from her, and began to lifelessly walk back towards the main beach. As I silently walked back, I was haunted by her final words…

"Remember… Ahh… Master… This… Hyahh… is our… Hahh.. dirty… little… secret…"

End.

Author's Notes:

So… uhm… Thanks for reading. This is the first ever fanfiction that I have written so some parts might have sound weird. I would not have imagined that I would research and write about this type of content. (What am I even doing with my life).

If you were wondering, yes, this was based on the actual Jeanne-blue whale meme. Thanks to the wonderful people at citov4810 (Instagram) for "motivating" me to think of such a story. In case you were wondering about the format of the story, the original plan was to make a doujin, but since I am bad at art, I reckon I would write out a story first, so that it will make it easier when adapting into a doujin. (It would not be anytime soon)

Oh, but I might write a sequel involving Musashi and Jalter in the future (since I mentioned both of them in the story). Hopefully, those would not involve any whales or dolphins.

Please give some feedback and of course, you are always welcome to create fan art based on this (I know some of you horny artists are reading this). And if there is a talented or experienced doujin artists reading this, you are always welcomed to make a doujin based on this. I would love to see the type of degenerate content people might create.

No dolphins or whales were harmed in the writing of this story. This story is a work of fiction. And please do not fuck a dolphin or a whale.

References:

Butter-T [@Butter_T]. (2020, July 19). Knowledge Time. Did you know that the Maid of Orléans, Jeanne d'Arc, is 159 cm in height. But Blue Whale's [Tweet]. Twitter. https://twitter.com/butter_t/status/1284788510407356416

Citov4810 [@citov4810]. (2021, June 5). [Meme]. Instagram. https://www.instagram.com/p/CPuz8vZhhG8/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link

Dolphin Communication Project. (2014). Top 5 Dolphin Myths - Dispelled!. https://www.dolphincommunicationproject.org/index.php/2014-10-21-00-13-26/dolphin-science-factoids/item/94358-top-5-dolphin-myths-dispelled

Howard, C. J. (2009). Dolphin Chronicles: One Woman's Quest to Understand the Sea's Most Mysterious Creatures. Bantam.

Jay [@highonthighs]. (2018, July 30). Did you know the maiden of orleans, Jeanne d'Arc, weighed 44 kilos. In contrast, a blue whale can ejaculate around [Tweet]. Twitter. https://twitter.com/highonthighs/status/1023747660027752448

Jeanne d'Arc. (2021, June 13). In Fate/Grand Order Wiki. https://fategrandorder.fandom.com/wiki/Jeanne_d%27Arc?oldid=953090

Jeanne d'Arc (Archer). (2021, June 14). In Fate/Grand Order Wiki. https://fategrandorder.fandom.com/wiki/Jeanne_d%27Arc_(Archer)?oldid=953914

Jeanne d'Arc (Ruler). (2021, May 10). In TYPE-MOON Wiki. https://typemoon.fandom.com/wiki/Jeanne_d%27Arc_(Ruler)?oldid=195455

Lunau, K. (2017, October 11). Scientists Inflated Dead Dolphin Dicks to Simulate Cetacean Sex. VICE. https://www.vice.com/en/article/j5gzqg/cetacean-reproduction-sex-dolphins-seals-dalhousie-university-science

Orbach, D. (2017, April 23). An intimate look at the mechanics of dolphin sex. EurekAlert!. https://www.eurekalert.org/pub_releases/2017-04/eb2-ail041217.php

University of Wisconsin. (2012). Blue Whale Reproduction. Balaenoptera musculus. http://bioweb.uwlax.edu/bio203/s2012/olson_rile/reproduction.htm

Whales Online. (n.d.). Reproduction. Whales Online A Gremm Project. https://baleinesendirect.org/en/discover/life-of-whales/behaviour/reproduction/

Whales Online. (n.d.). Reproduction System. Whales Online A Gremm Project. https://baleinesendirect.org/en/discover/life-of-whales/physiology/reproductive-system/

Wetzel, C. (2020, November 17). Nine of the Weirdest Penises in the Animal Kingdom. Smithsonian Magazine. https://www.smithsonianmag.com/science-nature/nine-weirdest-penises-animal-kingdom-180976274/

[greenninjagal-blog]

Deja Vecu

Hello, its been a while!! Please accept this release of the unpublished scene from Chapter Two of Deja Vu. Its basically 4k of Remus being gay for a stranger he keeps seeing die, and ain’t that a mood? :)

Summary: The Missing Scene in chapter 2 of Deja Vu, in which Remus agrees to help a stranger rob a casino.

Words: 4397

Read on Ao3 || Hero Worship Series || My General Writing Masterlist

At twenty-one years old, Remus finds out that robbing a casino is a lot less fun than Ocean’s Eleven led him to believe. It’s almost ridiculous the amount of security that went into protecting the chips and the cash on hand: following the path of the cash box from earlier, there’s two hired security guards framing the employee’s entrance, neither of whom like being touched nor can be persuaded to leave their posts together. There’s a card reader locking the door which despite looking like walnut wood, is actually steel with a clever paint job. And that’s just the first level.

“Predictable,” Dee says from where he had made himself comfortable on Remus’s bed with the complimentary note pad the hotel had supplied him. He had left his suit jacket on the desk to avoid the wrinkles but lounged on the foot of the bed without taking off his shoes. Remus had tossed himself down next to him, stretching out to gather all the pillows and built a throne for himself like he was eight instead of twenty-one.

Dee had watched him, back to wearing the face of the man who had approached him in the casino. Remus thinks he looks nice like that: hansom enough to please anyone who looked his way and charming enough to disarm anyone who might have seen him as out of place and forgettable enough that Remus couldn’t remember if they had gambled together previously.

“You don’t have to do that, you know,” Remus had pointed out. “I know what the real you looks like.”

Dee’s pen digs into the paper a little harder than necessary and Remus pretends he hadn’t noticed. The smile he receives is light and joking but it doesn’t meet his eyes at all. “I happened to like this appearance.”

Remus hums, “Lame. The scales are cool.” But he had let it drop in favor of twisting the purple casino chip between his fingers.

Dee taps his pen on the comforter in thought, his borrowed blue eyes distant as he mulled over Remus’s reports from futures that won’t happen. “What else did you notice?”

“Tessa isn’t your wife anymore, Danny.”

Dee snorts, which, by all means, should not be as graceful and elegant as he makes it seem. There’s a fluidity to the way he dips his head and scribbled on the pad of paper that makes him looks dignified. Or maybe that’s just the angle that Remus is looking at him with. A lock of his dark hair slips into his eyes and he brushes it back with two gloved fingers.

Remus falls back against the stack of pillows he had built around himself, breathing deeply and settling himself. The air smells like the lemon cleaner that the hotel staff had used to clean his room earlier when Remus had been out and about, but there’s hints of something else—something sweet and spicy with an undertone of wood.

--Dee blinks at the question, shifting so that he’s lying on his stomach, his head resting on his palm. “I wonder,” He says, with eyes so bright and blue and innocent that Remus feels like he’s stuck in them, “if you mean the Cardamom scent from my aftershave.” And Remus’s heart beats just a little faster, a little harder, a little more.—

“When I ask what else you notice,” Dee says, drawing Remus back to the present, “I meant your other senses. You’ve told me about what you’ve seen. What about sounds? The smells? You said you experience this as a first-person thing, correct?”

Remus waves a hand. “Its both. I’m there in person but I’m also having an out of body experience, too.”

Dee squints. “Doesn’t that…get confusing? How can you interpret all the stimuli at once?”

“Stimuli! What, are you a scientist in your free time?” Remus mocks, but Dee’s shoulders tense at the insinuation.

“You don’t have to tell me.” He says, “I was just curious.” He’s not, though. Remus isn’t quite sure how he knows, but Dee’s curiosity is more than just a simple question. It feels like it’s more, like he’s gathering information and sorting it away for later, like he’s making decisions based on Remus’s answers that have nothing to do with the how they are going to get into a Vault protected by a six digit code that only three people have and then get back out with more money than they can physically carry.

“Shame,” Remus says, feeling the shift in the bed as Dee’s shoulders unwind. “If you were a scientist you could dissect me for all the goodies inside! Of course, you can do that without being a scientist, too, but it’s not as fun.”

“Are you speaking from personal experience?”

Remus flips the coin in the air and catches it with the same hand. It comes up heads. “Why, does that scare you?”

Dee watches him, the pen absently twirling in the air between them. Remus can feel the weight of his gaze like a physical thing, pressing on his chest and making him self conscious of exactly how many breathes he’s been taking. The cotton comforter has a square pattern on it that he hadn’t noticed before, but he can count only three squares between the two of them. For some reason that information feels important.

“No,” Dee says after another moment passes and the air simmers. “I supposed it concerns me.”

Remus swallows the urge to laugh at his face.

“You just seem to be a useful person,” Dee continues, defensively. “I would hate to see that usefulness be squandered.”

This time Remus does laugh and it’s a bumbling bubbling burst of noise in their quiet world. His lungs shake and his heart hurts, but he laughs and something about it makes Dee’s smile softly too. The air is light, but there’s an underlying tension there, lurking in the shadows and reminding Remus that for all the dashing good looks and the semi honest expressions, the man before him is a stranger wearing a borrowed face and absolutely no one would miss him if he disappeared.

He flips the coin again, watching it roll over itself too many times to count, bounce off his hand and then flop to a stop direction between the two of them. Dee pokes it with the butt of his pen, like he was expecting it to get up and walk away.

“To answer your question,” Remus says, breathing in deeply enough to smell his cardamom aftershave and wondering why no one else in his twenty-one years of living had thought to ask him. “Seeing the future does get confusing. But it’s whatever. It never causes anything worse than a nosebleed.”

Dee hums and scribbles something down on his notepad. If Remus sat up just slightly, he would be able to see it, but he finds he likes the mystery more. Was it notes to use against him? Or was it things to think about in the future? Or was it still the colossal list of numbers they weren’t even a fraction of the way through?

--They manage to draw the guard’s attention away with a faked emergency: Remus never put stock in his own acting skills so he stumbles and falls on another patron and lets his head crack against the corner of the a craps table just far enough away that the guards are drawn the few steps over to check on both of them. Remus doesn’t bother responding to any of their prompts until Dee with the face of Tim the dealer swipes his borrowed card and lets the door behind him close. They had radios from the same place where Dee had procured the keycard from, and Remus thinks he could fall asleep listening to Dee’s breaths.

“Left, right, or center?” Dee asks.

“Left,” Remus hums, watching the casino patrons around him. A woman in her thirties just won at a baccarat table and tried to kiss the dealer. “There’s a camera at around the corner, but it roves. Your future self said to wait five seconds then go.”

Remus waves down a waitress and orders a mojito while he waits. Dee gives soft laugh at the concept and Remus tries to calm his nerves.

“You’re so uptight,” He says softly, almost to the point where Remus can’t hear him over the chattering of other people. “Relax a little, Remus. It’s just my life.”

“The Elevator code is 7-1-3-2,” Remus tells him. “And you’re going to want change your pretty little face to someone of a higher ranking on the casino hierarchy unless you want Terry Benedict to know what we’re up to.”

Remus holds his breath as the elevator dings, and then as Dee repeats the code as he types it in, and then as the doors rumble closed. He twists the glass of his drink when it comes as he listens for the subtle clues on how far Dee is inside the belly of the beast. It takes him a moment to realize that Dee is humming softly, and his lips twist into a smile without his permission.

There’s some garbled conversation on Dee’s end, pleasantries and greetings and nice things that Remus never bothered to memorize. Dee glides through the conversations with ease, deceiving and grifting like he had been born to do it. And who knows? Maybe he had been. Polite conversation gets them through another three doors, including a hall wracked the cameras and the final elevator that can only be opened with two keys and a pin code graciously provided by an aware high-level friend that followed them in and was still chatting about their Perfect Child’s first steps.

Remus sips his mojito and watches the girl at the nearest roulette table eye the betting board. She’s still going to lose so Remus finds himself more entertained by trying to extract the lime from his drink than from watching her pout yet again when the ball lands on the red 36.

“Ah yes, the vault code,” Dee’s voice says, dragging Remus back to the mission at hand. He’s casual, loose, and ready, and Remus doesn’t understand how he does it. He glances down at the piece of paper in his hand and reads off the six-digit combination that was next on their list.

“5-1-3-2-7-6,” Remus presses a hand to his earpiece, listening as closely as he can. His breath shortens with each second, crafting infinities out of each passing tick. He can hear Dee’s laugh and his he listens closer he can make out the guard that’s next to him still chattering away. Each button bings when Dee presses it in, soft and charming and not at all like a guillotine that’s cut their mission off a hundred-some times before.

“Hey man you, okay?” The person with Dee asks, less out of curiosity and more out of suspicion.

“Yes sorry my finger slipped,” Dee says quickly and punches in the next number in ascending order out of blind hope that it might be the correct one but it isn’t and Remus knows it because that’s when the person next to Dee asks him to back away and demands to know who he is and Dee’s placating answers are never enough so he tries to shift but bullets are faster than he is and Remus rips out his ear piece right before the gun goes—

“Another bust,” Dee sighs, drawing a snake on the corner of his paper. “Somehow I feel like we could win more playing on the casino floor than doing this….” He trails, off eyes distant again, thinking more about money than about the number of deaths Remus has witnessed.

It seems strange, that Remus would care so much more about that then he does, but in a way that doesn’t surprise him. Its Death with a capital ‘D’ and in Remus’s twenty-one years of experience, the only people who feared death were those who were aware of how close it was. Remus was practically best friends with Death, with the taste of the asphalt on the highway, with the feeling of a free fall, with the awkward fit of a hotel bathtub. He’s familiar with the cold silver of fear, but it doesn’t make him any less afraid.

Dee knows he keeps dying, though. Dying alone, deep inside a labyrinth of a building and Remus wonders if he should stop this while he’s ahead. He knows once that half hour mark hits in the future there’s no more Dee to be waiting for, no pay out. Just the pain of seeing a swarm of S.W.A.T. officers covertly weave between the patrons and leave with a human sized black bag. But Remus still waits and watches, holding dutiful vigil over a fruitless endeavor and letting hope build just for it to shatter with reality.

“Why does this mean so much to you?” Remus asks, somewhere between the fifteenth and the hundred fiftieth casino themed wake procession. His eyes burn a little, and he tries to tell himself it’s just the brightness of lights.

“Money is everything,” Dee marks the next two number off his list on his notebook and talks without listening to his own words. Its not fair that he sounds so convinced it’s true, when his mouth moves like he’s practiced this in the mirror. “What about you? Why do you continue to watch?”

Remus sinks back on his pillows, holding on to that faint scent of wood and spice and the feeling in his gut that comes from every time Dee listens to his advice from the future, from every time Dee listens and adheres, from every times Dee just believes.

Remus wonders how so much trust could be from this stranger who’s known him for an hour or two, and yet Roman had never been able to just accept what he said without an argument. He sounds crazy when he talks about what will happen, but Dee just nods and lets his lips twitch into a smile when handing him a roll of toilet paper.

Remus rips off another length the cheap paper and folds its in half before shoving it on his face. There’s blood in his mustache, which is frustrating and tastes just as gross as all the other times he’s had blood dripping down his chin.

“Remus,” Dee says, without looking up from his notepad.

“Yes, dearest stranger taking up half my bed?” He inhales hard.

“This is a fourth, at most.”

“Tomayto-tomahto.”

Dee shoots him a look that he can just barely make out around the clomps of flimsy paper he’s holding to his face. He looks like he’s trying not to be amused. Which is funny! Because, well, Remus can’t remember the last time someone who wasn’t related to him was in his company long enough to find him amusing.

“Why are you doing this?” Dee asks. “Other than the money, which we agreed would be a fifty-fifty split, regardless of how much we manage to walk out of here with….but somehow I don’t see money being enough for you to watch me die over and over again. Otherwise you wouldn’t have stopped me from lunging for that cash box.”

Remus is twenty-one when he shrugs and says, “It’s something to do.”

Dee huffs another dazzling laugh and for a moment Remus thinks he can see a flash of sharpened teeth in that smile, fangs like a vampire come to life, but it’s too fast for him to be sure. “Ah, I see we’re both liars tonight. Ready for the next attempt?”

Remus wonders if it’s still lying when its technically the truth. He’s doing this because its time spent with this shapeshifting sham, this enlightening enigma, this confusing con artist who lies as easily as breathing. Remus has a hard time believing anything personal he says is true, and yet he finds himself eyeing the three squared spaces on the comforter again wondering if it would be too much to make it two, one, none.

For someone who trusts Remus to see the future seven billions times as they try to figure out the vault code, who follows every direction Remus gives without hesitation, who continues to act as if Death is not something that can happen to him, he is extraordinarily hard to trust in return. Words are meaningless because he flaunts them, and Remus grew up watching Roman practice lines enough to know when someone was acting. Dee probably isn’t even his real name.

But Remus…Remus hasn’t been seen the way that Dee sees him before. Isn’t that enough for him to want to spend as long as he can with this stranger? Regardless of the danger Dee is running straight into? Regardless of the slight thrill that he gets from the prospect that they might get away with this?

-- There’s some garbled conversation on Dee’s end, pleasantries and greetings and nice things that Remus never bothered to memorize. Dee glides through the conversations with ease, deceiving and grifting like he had been born to do it. And who knows? Maybe he had been. Polite conversation gets them through another three doors, including a hall wracked the cameras and the final elevator that can only be opened with two keys and a pin code graciously provided by an aware high-level friend that followed them in and was still chatting about their Perfect Child’s first steps.

Remus sips his chocolate martini and watches the girl at the nearest roulette table eye the betting board. He knows from all the other times he’s watched that she loses, although as he peaks over at the numbers she’s never far off. It must be that excitement of the near win that keeps her there.

“Ah yes, the vault code,” Dee’s voice says, dragging Remus back to the mission at hand. He’s casual, loose, and ready, and Remus doesn’t still understand how he does it.

“5-1-3-3-4-1.”

He can hear Dee’s laugh and his he listens closer he can make out the guard that’s next to him still chattering away. Each button bings when Dee presses it in, soft and charming and not at all like the bells of victory when the code is right, holy shit. The Code was right. Dee’s breath catches in his throat, and Remus nearly drops his martini on the floor. His heart races in his chest with an emotion that he can’t quiet put a name too.

They did it.

They…won. Remus makes his way towards the doors where they were set to meet back up, and Dee continues a casual conversation with the armed guard about children as he fills both his briefcases with as much money as he can fit. By the breathless excitement in his voice, Remus can guess there’s more money in front of him than he expected to be able to get. He invites the guard over for family dinner next night because he’s an asshole and Remus finds that quality admirable.

He waves down a waitress to get a second drink, Dee’s celebratory drink, because as soon as he got past the doors they were home free-

“Hey! Hey! Stop him!” A voice yells in Dee’s ear and the shapeshifter curses.

“Remus!” He yells, “The executive is in the halls! He-!”

There’s a gunshot and a thud and Remus rips out his earpiece and screams loud enough to make all the nearest games freeze in their tracks—

“Let me guess,” Dee says, rolling over, “Another bust? The next numbers ar—”

“No,” Remus throws himself into a sitting position, and blindly grabbing for more toilet paper. The back of his throat is slick with a metallic taste and his head spins a bit when he tries to stand up. “No, Dee!”

“No?”

“Dee, we did it! That’s the code,” Remus says, pretending like his knees don’t buckle when the floor rolls under his feet. Dee is there in a moment, hands under his arms and holding him up completely. Its almost like a hug, Remus thinks distantly. He’s twenty-one and he can’t remember the last time someone hugged him even as a joke. His skin itches at the contact, blistering and burning at the warmth of someone else being so close to him. The cardamom scent is so strong, but Remus thinks he might be okay if that was the only thing he smelled for the rest of his life.

“Are you…okay?” Dee asks. “Why are you…?”

Remus uses the back of his hand to wipe away the stream of blood from his nose and inhales hard. “You died again. The executive you choose to impersonate is in the building and you run into him right before getting out with the cash.”

“Who was it? I can change into someone else.”

Remus shakes his head. “Oh no. I’ve got no clue, but if there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s get someone’s attention.”

Dee grins, “You certainly got mine. What are you going to do?”

Remus slides his weight back and manages to stand on his own legs. Remus’s heart does a dance routine in his chest, moving like if it slows for even a second Dee will lunge forward and rip it from his body.

Remus tells him, “I’m going to go make a girl win at roulette so much they think she’s cheating. With a hundred thousand dollars on the line that should have their attentions, right?”

It’s not really a question. Remus knows from experience that the more games in a row that you win during a game involving so much luck, the more interest people start to take in it and you. He just needs to convince the girl to bet only where he tells her to, and then bet as much as she can.

He knows how to do it, too: simply walk up to her and offer her a free Barney if she bets on the square he tells her too. Once she wins, he tells her the next one, and maybe she puts a nickel down, or a quarter, just in case he’s wrong. When she wins again, he’ll tell her the next number, and she’ll put more on it. Then more. Then more. She doesn’t even need to believe that he can see the future. She just has to reap the rewards.

“Oh,” Dee says staring at him. “Oh.”

Remus isn’t sure what he’s looking at. He just knows that Dee’s eyes are as blue as the ocean and deeper than anything he’s ever drowned in. He’s looking at Remus again, like this is the first time he’s seeing him in this lighting, and when he smiles, his teeth are definitely sharper than before.

“I do believe,” Dee says, “we could make the best team of thieves there is out here.”

“You’re just now figuring that out?” Remus asks. “Come on. I didn’t listen to you die nine hundred times just for you to chicken out now.”

He grabs his jacket, and buttons it. With a swipe of his hands he’s hair sets back in the position before, like some type of magic act. If Dee’s the magician, Remus thinks he would be honored to be in the front row every time he performs.

“So, you’d be up to doing this again, correct?” Dee asks, with his hand on the doorknob.

“They won’t fall for the same trick twice,” Remus says, “And what makes you think that this is something I enjoy?”

“I didn’t ask if you enjoyed it. I asked if you’d do this again. Not here, but somewhere else.” Dee glances at him, side eyeing him in a way that makes the hair on the back of Remus’s neck stand on end. “You still owe me.”

“What?” Remus turns to face him, and if there’s a spark in his chest, a nudge of excitement, well who can blame him? People don’t usually want him to stay around.

Another step in the hall. “We made a deal, unless you’ve forgotten. You said that if I could figure out how you were cheating, you’d do one thing that I want you to do.”

Remus snorted and motioned between them, “What do you call this? What we’ve been doing for the past hour?”

“This?” The man gives him a shark-like smile, “You did this of your own volition!”

“I seem to recall you asking,” Remus challenges.

Dee shakes his head too innocently. “Not in this timeline.” He pulls out his pale-yellow handkerchief and offers it to him, “You still have blood on your face by the way.”

There’s something nice about the way that this man is looking at him, the way he’s still looking at him, like Remus is something more than a nuisance, more than a distraction, more than an unwanted, frustrating intrusion. It makes his knees weak and the back of his throat taste like blood again and he so desperately wants to look to the future but won’t let himself do it.

“What do you want?” Remus says, because the uncharacteristic fear in his chest is slowly turning all his organs to butterflies and he never goes back on a promise.

“Well, you did say anything I wanted right? Anything at all?”

Remus nods, rolling his finger over the snake design on the stolen poker chip. Suddenly there doesn’t seem to be enough air in the world, and he’s afraid if he inhales too deeply trying to get more, the whole reality will shatter.

Dee’s form shimmers, shivers, and dissolves into Tim the dealer as they wait for the elevator to take them back to the casino floor. It’s an entirely different person but when he looks at Remus all he can see is Dee’s expression.

“Well, Remus,” He says, “After we finish up here, I want you to come with me. Work with me a bit. Let me help you amass a bit of a fortune. Strictly professional, of course. I won’t ask about your past and you don’t ask about mine. We don’t even need to be friends! Just…”

Dee offers out a gloved hand to him. “Business partners?”

Remus is twenty-one and he thinks there might be a timeline out there where he says no, but he doesn’t even entertain that thought.

“Business Partners,” He says and shakes on it.