#the half naked man on the couch is a nice upgrade

[ghostoffuturespast]

Don't have time rn to check out all the updates, but Grandpa did ride the train back to H10.

(And got confused by the train connections, because of course.)

[dopescotlandwarrior]

Someone like you-Chapter 34

On AO3

Ch-28  Ch-29  Ch-30  Ch-31  Ch-32  Ch-33

Chapter 34

The chilly air was invigorating as we made our way to the bridal shop. I prayed that Jenny would not want further details about sex between Jamie and me because he was her brother and that was just weird.

The owner asked us to sit and chat for a few minutes while her assistants were pulling the dresses she wanted to show us. She asked me tons of questions about Jamie, what we both did for a living, and for fun. I didn’t think the questions were intended for anything because they seemed so random. When the assistants came in with dresses she sent half of them back pulled three to the dressing room and the rest on racks nearby.

“Alright," she looked at me smiling. "You can look all you want but I believe the three I’ve chosen will be your favorites. Call when you need assistance.”

“Out of the thousand or so dresses in this place how could she know yer three favorites?”

I shrugged my shoulders at Jenny’s whispered question. I believed it was a sales technique of some sort. My taste was off the beaten path, always had been, no way she could target my style. I looked at the vast number of dresses that hung near the huge dressing room and thought I better get started.

I looked at the three bridal gowns and my first thought was the absurdity that I would choose one of these and actually marry the man who stole my heart when I was ten years old. I felt tears pricking my eyes and resisted the urge to pinch myself. The gowns were stunning and I was very careful touching them. I pulled my clothes off and tried to find a zipper or buttons to put the first one on. After five minutes I was getting cold so I called Jenny to come in.

“Christ Claire, put my jacket on before ye freeze to death. I think I got it, no that’s not it. Edith, we need ye help with this.”

It was the owner who came in, still smiling, and offered to help. “Arms up lass.”

The fabric of the dress slid down my body and legs feeling like a cool slippery second skin. I have a theory about the perfect dress and it has proven right every time. When the dress feels like it was made for you, sums up your personality and goals you have for the event you buy it. This was the dress I would be married in, I knew it as it slipped onto my body, and I was delighted with it.

“Lass, I dinna ken what to say. It’s breathtakin, you’re beautiful in it, Jamie will have a heart attack when he sees ye in it.”

Heavy lace sleeves from my wrist to five inches below my shoulder attached to the heart-shaped bodice that was close fitted and decorated with thousands of hand-sewn pearls. The skirt was two layers with a modest flair. The owner went to get a stiff slip and the fabric fell onto it like a whisper. Jenny had a strange look on her face and pulled my arm so I would turn around to look in the mirror. I have never felt so elegant or had such a beautiful dress in my life. The tears would not be held back and I looked at the owner like she was magic.

“How could you possibly know?”

“It’s my job to see the person inside, and I’ve been dressing brides for thirty years.”

The owner explained the heavy lace sleeves would add some warmth for my winter wedding. I turned around to see the sharp dip to my waist, exposing my back. Keep me warm indeed, I thought. Next, we lost ourselves in gorgeous silk stockings, garter belts, tiny panties, and stunning shoes. I chose the highest heel she had because I wanted to look in Jamie’s eyes whenever I turned in his direction.

I watched Edith and Jenny with a keen eye and noticed what they drooled over. I let the owner know I would pick up those items tomorrow as Christmas presents and to please set them aside for me. I could not help seeing Edith’s eyes land on a beautiful beaded clutch. She did not touch it but her gaze landed on it several times. I indicated to the shop owner I would take that as well.

After three hours we piled out of the shop completely exhausted. Jenny went her separate way to do Christmas shopping and I drove Edith home. The sky was hosting large swollen black clouds and I saw the lights on Edith’s house from a block away. It made me happy inside that I had a friend like Edith who taught me how to cook, got me to therapy, loved my dog and my husband to be, and embraced my whole family. I helped her inside and hugged her.

“I love you, Edith, thank you for spending such an amazing day with me.”

“We will see you on Christmas dear and I will bring some things.”

I laughed at that. Some things meant an entire meal that would be remembered throughout the year. I turned my pockets inside out to show the Butter-lovers he was not sequestered against his will and they lost all interest in me walking to his bed with their tiny hearts broken.

“Maybe it’s time to have Butter for a play day,” she said looking at her depressed pugs.

A last hug and I was homeward bound with a deep sigh of relief. I was getting married on Hogmanay and it would be a day to remember. I needed my groom in a big way.

When I turned onto the road to Lallybroch I saw a man and a dog in a far-field. The dog was running to him after retrieving a stick when he suddenly dropped it in the snow and looked at the man. It was Butter, my favorite dog who never found the value in an old stick. I looked beyond the confused K-9 and saw Jamie waving his arms at me. I parked and walked across the field, first to be assaulted by Butter, and then Jamie. His blue eyes sparkled against the snow-covered field and his smile was brilliant.

We walked home to a warm fire and a few hours to binge Netflix before dinner. Since we were alone in the house we stretched out on the couch and spent a relaxing minute and a half and then gave in to the naughty arousal of making love in the living room where we could be caught by Jenny or Ian returning home. I decided risky sex was delicious and put a star next to it on my types of sex mental list. No sooner did we dress than I heard the kitchen door slam and Jenny’s voice say something about dinner. I smiled at Jamie and he acknowledged the close call as he pulled me on his lap and tickled me.

“Oh Christ, ye two are making me sick. I am goin to lay down before dinner, I’m sure ye can get by an hour without me.”

Jamie sat at the kitchen table working on the renovation drawings while I got a pork roast ready for the oven. I made rice pilaf and a broccoli casserole and looked over Jamie’s shoulder asking questions. I was so excited about this renovation. We would have the entire upstairs, including the huge bathroom and tub, a room for the nursery that could later be divided for a second child and Jenny’s old room to create whatever we wanted. It was a glorious amount of space and freedom to raise our family. Jenny and Ian would enjoy the same luxury a level below us.

“Why didn’t we think of this before! I am so happy and excited and you are brilliant, can’t wait and I love you and…”

I had dropped into Jamie’s lap halfway through my happiness tirade and he seized the only way I had to communicate my joy. He moaned against my mouth and pulled me closer to him.

“I decided on a pork roast because I learned in nursing school that pork has special … rejuvenation …um …enzymes that target…” I inclined my head toward Jamie’s crotch. His eyes got wide and he looked down at his lap and then smiled like the devil himself.

“Sassenach, you are such a delight and yer learning such important things. I am a lucky man.” His smile was so big he could hardly kiss me.

Crap. It was supposed to be a joke but he didn’t laugh. Hm, I vowed to tell him someday so it wasn’t really lying and now I had pork in my bag of seduction tricks. Sorry, Jamie but you are just too adorable right now and I sense another hour of percolation and you will cripple me tonight. Oh, Christ, we may cripple each other. I turned the oven temperature up fifty degrees.

Dinner was perfect thanks to Edith’s secrets. I thought about tuition for the private Culinary Institute and how many students learned from her each semester. It was a staggering amount of money because they recruited the best chefs to teach. That made me giggle because I have her all to myself every Saturday. Jamie leaned into my ear as I popped a piece of pork in my mouth. I blushed at his whispered suggestion and smiled despite myself.

Jenny pointed her fork at me, then Jamie, “I’m gonna kill one of ya in yer sleep and I love ya both the same so it’ll be a coin toss. I canna get any peace wonderin what’s goin on in there so it’s been nice knowin one of ye.”

“Jenny, my back is sore from all the standing today. Do you mind if I use your tub tonight?”

“Yer a terrible liar and ye know yer welcome to all that I have if ye do my share of dishes tonight. I don’t feel that great.”

Jamie was doing his magic table-clearing act where all the dishes suddenly vanish from the table and appear in the sink, stacked for quick washing. Ian jumped to aid Jenny so it was just me and the adorable one. He kissed my neck as I powered through the washing.

“Sassenach, I must advise ye of the danger yer in. It feels like fifty horses are draggin me to bent ye over right where ye stand. Have mercy and show ye love by gettin in the tub if ye must. I’ll no wait much longer.”

He pulled my hand to his crotch and I squeaked quite involuntarily. So, the Blue Whale is not extinct after all and I must upgrade the potential danger to crippled for life. I decided I didn’t need the use of my legs anyway. I tried to kiss him and struggled for his mouth as he spun me and gently pushed me out of the kitchen.

“If yer not in bed naked when I get upstairs I’ll have ye where I find ye mo chridhe. I ate entirely too much pork I think.”

I was stuck looking at him being so sexy and saw his eyes get dark saying time is up, here I come. I vanished from the kitchen and my hands shook as I dropped into the hot water. I lit the fire after stacking three logs that erupted in flame casting a romantic glow in the room. I never tired of how the fire threw dancing light on Jamie’s skin as he moved causing a thrill when parts of his body were revealed. I pulled the bedding down so it would not hinder our movement.

Jamie gave me a total girl gift when the weather got cold. A floor-length transparent robe made from exquisite soft fabric, huge sleeves, and yards of material that was belted. When I touched the fur that ran around the collar and down the front I recoiled believing it was real until Jamie showed me the tag that said simulated mink. It was my guilty pleasure and his ignition switch.

Jamie came in and looked at me like a starving man. Without a word, he disappeared to the shower and cut his impressive time by a full minute. He wrapped his naked body around me and my fingers raked through his wet hair.

“Would you like a glass of whisky love?”

“Nah, I want yer forgiveness. This will no end soon, mo gradhag, and I’ll be lucky to get a full minute of tenderness in before I take what I want from ye. Give me yer mouth Sassenach.”

My two orgasms were award winners but I stayed quiet by holding my hand tightly against my mouth. I’m not sure it worked because on the orgasm planet I visit I have no ears. Just vibrating nerve endings that sing a song of pulsing delight. When I leave and come back to earth my ears are always attached to my head again so I can hear Jamie growl and pant as he rides his wave of euphoria.

This amazing day had ripped the energy and strength from me. I was descending into the void so fast I grabbed Jamie’s arm as if to stop myself. His hand was splayed on my still flat stomach and he was asking me why there was no bump. I looked from his hand to his eyes and felt my heart explode. I told him quickly how much I loved him and tried a second time to form the actual words that still didn’t sound right. Jamie laughed and pulled me to him as he reached for the light.

I ascended into consciousness slowly seeing the light of day behind my closed eyelids. This was one of my favorite times of the day as I became aware of the world again. I yawned deeply and twisted to the other side running right into Jamie. My eyes flew open at this unexpected obstacle in my morning bed. He moved slightly but otherwise continued to sleep. I wanted to jump up and down and clap my hands at this rare surprise to enjoy a Sunday morning lounging with my favorite person. I snuggled into him and went back to whatever plane I woke from.

Sometime later, I took a deep breath and let his scent fill my nose and lungs, feeling it energize me. He kissed my face over and over again until I was fully conscious.

“Ye have the prettiest eyes God ever gave a lass. Tell me what great things ye did in heaven to win them mo chridhe.”

I pushed myself up knowing my hair was acting out a riot and smiled at him. “Jamie?”

“lass?”

“You need to tell me something important, to get it off your chest, so to speak.”

Jamie said nothing but stared at my eyes and shook his side to side.

I brought my face within an inch of his and looked in his eyes. “You have the eyes of someone who adop0ted a kitten on impulse, so tell me where it is so Butter doesn’t eat it accidentally.”

Jamie was blushing crimson and laughing. He finally stood up and went into the hall then pushed a large box into our room. I realized it was a sixty-inch smart tv and called out every ounce of inner strength not to jump on the bed and demand he set it up and turn it on. We were a bit frugal, all of us sharing a single television that his parents owned.

“I was gonna give it to ye for Christmas but that would be a mistake, I think.”

“I don’t know about that, I can get your present ready …I just have to catch it and hold it still while I wrap it.”

“Yer givin me one of yer chickens for Christmas Sassenach?”

“No fair guessing, you have to wait and be surprised.”

“Lucky for the chicken, I dinna give ye the tv for Christmas.” He looked at me and the energy changed abruptly as stared back at him.

“I got ye, us, a honeymoon to remember, love.” He pulled an envelope from the top of the TV box and handed it to me.”

I turned it upside down and let the contents land on the bed as my eyes saw brochure pictures that made my heart pound. “We’re going to the Bahamas!”

I jumped on Jamie screaming with delight. He didn’t grab me fast enough so I escaped to jump on the bed, butt naked, still screaming with delight. “Tell me more!”

When he was silent I looked down at him watching my breasts bounce with my efforts. I dropped to the bed and pulled him on top of me. I felt him hard and large through his sweat pants and pushed them down over his magnificent butt. I was naked and squirming under him as I kissed him hard.

“It’s gentleman’s choice until noon and I am a slave to your pleasure Jamie.” I opened my mouth suggestively. Jamie whispered his instructions for an erotic experience that charged my batteries and made them explode. He told me where to put my tongue, how to slide it around his sensitive head, how to lay my tongue flat against him and let him pump my mouth. He stopped to say something and I saw his eyes lose focus. I shoved him in my mouth, to my throat and heard him groan loudly for what seemed like a full minute. While I was still swallowing I heard skin slapped.

“Fuckin Jamie!” Ian sounded like he would barge in our room and choke him to death.

As we struggled to stop laughing I remembered Jenny`s wicked sense of fair play, payback, and revenge. She was a master at tit-for-tat. I wondered what she will expose me to when I`m nine months pregnant. I scowled at Jamie and suggested he stop laughing.

[violetsmoak]

maybe this is how it starts [1/?]

Cover & Disclaimer

Warning: In case it hasn’t been made clear, Dick Grayson is currently “dead” (since this takes place during some of the Spyral arc)

AN: I had way too much fun writing this. Dialogue is my happy place. 

Maybe this is how it starts: with Jason lugging a bleeding and unconscious Red Robin up a rickety fire-escape, swearing every time the kid’s stupid fucking cape gets stuck on a metal edge.

Ivy’s latest creations—some kind of Venus Flytrap-vampire hybrids—have done a number on the guy. When Jason found him, his erstwhile replacement was suspended by a network of razor toothed vines doing their best to burrow through his suit’s Kevlar. Judging by the puddle of blood below him, they were pretty damn well succeeding.  

As luck would have it, plants and vampires have the same aversion to fire. A brief stint of arson later (and a few gashes of his own to show for it), and Jason had Tim hoisted over his shoulder and Ivy knocked out. After a moment debating it, he’d grappled toward his nearest bolthole, the police sirens wailing in his wake.

It’s pure coincidence he found him. Jason’s only just gotten back to the city, taking a short break from intergalactic outlawing. As far as he knows, Tim’s been zipping around the world playing chicken with a bunch of ninjas and an irritating reporter. Not that they interact much beyond the occasional text or major crisis in Gotham under normal circumstances, of course. But Bruce’s demon spawn’s been back from the dead for two weeks now, and everyone’s been sticking closer to the home front since then.  

Not too close though.

Jason’s still twitchy about spending long stretches of time at the manor. Since the demon brat’s resurrection gave him a bunch of friggen superpowers, Jason’s erred on the side of self-preservation. It’s not as fun teasing a ten-year-old when said ankle-biter can lift a car and crush the life out of you with it.

He’s pretty sure Tim has been steering clear of the manor for that same reason. And avoiding any parts of Gotham where Batman and Robin might be patrolling. Because of course Bruce is crazy enough to take a twerp with a hair-trigger temper on patrol.

Like it doesn’t matter he has the means of caving someone’s head in with a flick of his finger.

It’s why Jason took a detour near Robinson Park tonight (he avoids thinking about the fact it was part of Dick’s usual patrol route). It’s also why he happened to stumble upon Ivy about to turn Tim into plant food.

And really, Ivy? Vampire plants? How bored were you?

This safehouse is one of his smaller ones, the top floor of a three-story walk-up listed as unsafe and condemned for demolition. Jason’s been paying city officials off to ignore it for as long as he needs it; it’s not the fanciest or most upgraded spot, but it’s got running water and it came with the furniture. That’s about all he cares about when he’s tired and when someone unsavory comes looking for him in his usual digs.

This neighborhood is also in the anti-social and distrustful part of the Upper East Side where no questions someone in a scarlet helmet carrying what looks like a dead body up a fire-escape. Especially someone stumbling around and making as much noise as Jason is.

Vines must have been poisonous, too. No wonder the kid’s out cold, I feel like I was hit by a truck. And my arms going numb where they got me.

The door’s easy enough to get open, even one-handed, but he must stoop and contort to get himself and Tim inside considering all their armor. Blood smears across the handle and he makes a mental note to scrub everything down with bleach tomorrow.

Tim makes a discontent sound when his head knocks against the archway,

“Oh, yeah, like you felt that,” Jason mutters, kicking the door closed behind him and heading through the kitchen and down the narrow hall toward the living room and bedroom.

He bypasses the couch because stains are a bitch to get out of that upholstery and he doesn’t want the whole place smelling like stale blood forever after this. Bedsheets are easier to toss. There’s already a rubber sheet on the mattress here, legacy of several incidents where he’s shredded his stitches or didn’t bother changing after a particularly brutal fight.

“You’d better not have this thing fucking armed,” Jason tells Tim after he tugs off the cape and cowl and reaches for the tricked-out bandolier. “I mean it. If I get electrocuted, I’m letting you bleed out.”

“Awesome…bedside manner,” Tim mumbles. “Ten out of ten…would recommend.”

“Dick.”

“No…Dick’s dead…I’m Tim.”

Jason groans. “That was pitiful. Like, me levels of bad. How much blood have you lost?”

Nothing but a pained wheeze in response, and Jason rolls his eyes, continuing to strip the kid down to his underwear with rough efficiency.

Though Tim’s arms and legs are peppered with bruises and a few tiny gouges leaking blood, those injuries are superficial for the most part. It’s only the one gaping hole in his right side where one of the vines pierced through the armor; it hit nothing vital, but it’s bleeding like a son of a bitch.

Jason heads to the bathroom to grab the med kit (which is stocked better than most hospital supply closets) and injects them both with something to counteract the poison. It’s a broad-spectrum antitoxin, geared specifically toward Poison-Ivy related emergencies (and he really hopes she hasn’t gotten more creative than the whole vampire-plant hybrid thing) and sets to work stitching the rent flesh and muscle in Tim’s side back together. He takes longer than normal because his vision is blurring, and his fingers trembling.

Side-effect of the antitoxin.

Tim’s already passed out again, his chest rising and falling in a regular rhythm that assures Jason the kid’s not about to seize up and die. Still, he maneuvers him roughly into a recovery position and sticks a bucket beside the bed. It’s not unheard of for Ivy’s poisons to cause projectile vomiting.

“Don’t say I never do anything nice for you,” he grumbles, and takes the time to check for injuries of his own. The room sways, his eyes drooping, and he decides if he hasn’t bled out now, there can’t be anything too pressing.

Jason barely shrugs out of the bulkiest bits of his armor before plummeting face-first onto the bed beside Tim.

Horizontal is good; he likes being horizontal.

He doesn’t intend to stay there. Not being the same bloody mess as Tim, he’s okay with crashing on his couch because it’s an amazing couch. He might actually sleep better on it than the bed.

Except, sleep is a goddamn glorious temptress and sounds so much better than willing himself to trudge back across the apartment.

“You’d better not snore,” he tells Tim’s back, before pressing his face into the pillow and letting beautiful unconsciousness swim up around him.

֍

There’s no transition from being asleep to being awake. One minute, Tim is swimming in the dreamless black of total oblivion, and the next he is staring up at an unfamiliar cracked ceiling.

His mouth has the rancid metallic taste it always gets when he’s been dosed with something—sedative or antitoxin, maybe—and there’s a body beside him. It’s a fact that should concern him—he’s woken next to unconscious or dead bodies more than he’d like to admit—but the unhurried, easy breathing suggests it is voluntary unconsciousness. Scent returns next, the air damp and cool, with a hint of mold mixing with odors of cordite, gun polish, drying blood and cigarette smoke.

Familiar cigarette smoke.

Jason, he decides, not even having to glance to his side to confirm his deduction.

Memories of the night before return, along with the itchy sting of new stitches in his skin and what appears to be a hundred paper cuts across the rest of his body. He can feel that especially well, since he has no clothing other than his underwear and the air is aggravating the broken skin.

This had better not be another Paris situation.

He’s not sure why that’s his first thought, because obviously he had to lose his uniform to be treated, but he doesn’t like the idea of being manhandled while mostly-naked. Not that there’s anything to worry about from Jason. Even if he wasn’t an ally-maybe-friend-not-quite-brother most of the time, the Red Hood has a very well-known attitude towards untoward behavior and minors.

Still going to check his phone for any blackmail material, though.

It’s what Dick would do in this situation.

Would have done.

Tim swallows the painful lump in his throat.

He continues to stare up at the ceiling for another few seconds, choosing to collect his thoughts rather than dwell on unpleasant realities. It’s easy to put together the chain of events from when he passed out in Ivy’s clutches to waking up in what is clearly a safehouse. It’s happened to all of them at some point, so there’s no associated panic. He is, however, curious about one thing that’s different from usual.

“Jason.”

The flatness of his tone marred by sleep, makes him sound groggier and less aware than he would like.

There is no response. He knows the older man is awake now though; it’s a universal talent of the Bat-trained, being able to rouse from a deep sleep to peak awareness at the drop of a hat.

“Jason,” he repeats, a little louder, still studying the cracks in the plaster that spread and merge with a spot of water-damage.

“Mmf…ckff…”

The words are muffled by a pillow, but understandable. He’s awake enough to formulate a response. Good, on to the next bit.

“Why am I in bed with you?”

And is there any way to make that question not sound disturbing?

“…No blood on the couch…” is the grumbled, surprisingly coherent response. “S’my favorite couch…”

Which makes a Jason-like amount of sense, even if it doesn’t outright answer what Tim is asking. He decides the conversation isn’t worth the trouble of dragging it out of the other man, mostly because he’s pretty sure a half-asleep Red Hood is just as hard to interrogate as an awake and alert Red Hood. Maybe harder, given the propensity for slurring his words.

And so, Tim eases himself gingerly upward into a sitting position, hissing when the movement tugs on the skin around the wound in his side. He examines it with a frown, noting that it’s far too close to his right kidney for his liking; he’ll have to take a break from patrol for the next few days to let it heal, and to make sure it doesn’t get infected.

Though, it won’t be due to subpar first aid, he allows, considering the neat row of stitches holding the still angry red wound closed. “At least your sewing has improved.”

“Screw you, my sewing’s awesome.” This time Jason definitely sounds more awake, and there’s a shift of the bed. “Martha Stewart’s got nothing on me. You snore, by the way.”

“I do not.”

Tim glances over at the other man, taking in his somewhat bloody appearance. He’s in a sweat-stained t-shirt, and there are a few slashes in his arms that are scabbing over; probably from the vines. He hasn’t shaved in a long while, and he’s got a bad case of helmet head—the red roots are coming out again. Coupled with the bloodshot eyes, he looks like someone who just got off a bender.

“You look like crap,” Tim tells him bluntly.

Jason rolls his eyes.

“Aw, thanks Timbers. And you’re welcome, by the way. You know, for the whole saving your life thing.”

Tim grits his teeth, knowing the slightly mocking tone is meant to get a rise out of him. Jason is nothing if not excellent at pushing people’s buttons.

“Thank you,” he says. Annoyance about this whole situation aside, he is grateful. He thinks a year ago Jason might have left him to him die. “I appreciate it. Really.”

“You’d better. I almost left you to strangle on the fire escape in that ridiculous cape of yours. You know one day that’s going to get stuck in a jet-engine or something right?”

“Bruce is the one that tackles runaway jets, not me.”

Jason makes a dismissive gesture.

“So, how many times is that now?” he asks then, reaching for the shabby night table beside him and finagling open a drawer. He pulls out a rumpled pack of cigarettes and a zippo. “I’m starting to wonder if I should be waiving the family discount for my services. I mean, it’s not like you can’t afford it.”

“What’s the point? You’ll have died of lung cancer before I have to make a payment.”

Jason makes a point of holding his gaze as he lights the cigarette between his lips, just to be contrary. Tim makes a face at the acrid waft of smoke that follows.

“And that’s my cue,” he sighs, swinging himself over the bed and promptly putting his foot down in a bright red garbage pail.

“Watch the bucket,” Jason tells him after the fact, mocking lilt in his voice.

Tim closes his eyes and silently counts to ten.

It could be worse. It could be Damian.

“Can you, for one second, not be a total jerk?” he asks conversationally, carefully stepping out of the bucket ad getting to his feet. “Where’s my suit?” Jason motions vaguely in the direction of the floor, exhaling a stream of smoke. “Thanks. That’s really helpful.”

“I aim to please.”

“Right.” Tim is the one to roll his eyes now. “At least tell me you have a coffeemaker in this place.”

He’s getting one of those headaches, and at least forty percent of it is not caused by Jason.

“That would be lying though and lying is wrong.” This is said with a shit-eating grin. “Your choices are Earl Grey or mineral water.”

Tim curls his lip. “You’re destroying the whole tough-guy image I have of you. What kind of vigilante doesn’t drink coffee?”

“The kind that likes having a sparkling white smile?”

“I don’t know if I can take you seriously anymore.”

“Yeah, well, I never took you seriously,” Jason retorts, flicking his cigarette into the nearby ashtray. “I’m taking you even less seriously since you’re standing there near-naked with rat’s nest hair and a hard-on.”

Which causes color to flood Tim’s cheeks and an unfortunate automatic flick of his eyes downward to see that, damn it, he’s right.

“Shut up!” he snaps, grabbing the nearest pillow to cover himself, and Jason guffaws. “It’s a normal biological reaction.”

“Still funny, though.”

Tim’s already stumbling from the bed in embarrassment, looking for the bathroom.

“Door on the right,” Jason calls after him, disgustingly amused. “Don’t get your stitches wet.” Just as Tim reaches it, he pitches his voice louder: “And if you need to rub one out in there, have the decency to rinse down the wall!”

Mortification hits Tim even harder than before.

“Fuck off Jason!”

He hears a roar of laughter from the bedroom.  

I take back what I said about Damian.

TBC

Next Chapter

[pinetree-in-hatchetfield]

Peter Parker’s Perversions - Spideychelle Fic

A/N: Alternatively titled, Suit Smut, Tony Regrets The Suit’s Precautions, and Tony Just Regrets In General. Credit to @parker-is-full-of-shit and @duhmj for helping come up with this fic.

Peter wasn’t sure when he realized it, but it made sense. He felt more confident as Spider-Man. Which was a stark contrast to Peter Parker, who was unnoticed and pushed around by anyone who wanted to. But he realized that the suit was becoming a turn-on.

As a young scientist he knew he had to expirament with this idea. And as a teenage boy he knew how to do it.

So that’s how Peter Benjamin Parker ends up masturbating in the Spider-Man Suit the next time May is out. (Thanks to Tony’s latest upgrade, the pants and boots were now detachable like the mask or gloves.)

Meanwhile on the other side of New York, Tony Stark is checking up on his systems throughout the Avengers Base. Suddenly he sees that the Spider Suit is active. ’That’s odd. It’s not patrol hours.’ he thinks. (Tony and May established time frames for Peter to be Spider-Man when not fighting some kind of major threat so they both felt better about him doing it at all)

Maybe he’s fine. Maybe he’s in trouble. What if someone has found who he is? What if they’re attacking? What if he needs me? What if T-. That’s when he opens the cameras. He closes them immediately and makes his way to the bar.

After a few glasses of scotch to help the new found trauma he calls Peter. He answers with a “Hey, Mr. Stark. What’s going on? Do you need my help? Are the Avengers in trouble?” a gasp of excitement from Peter, “Is it-” Tony cuts him off before he gets to a point where he couldn’t be stopped. “Peter. What you were just doing in the suit. Please don’t, not in my suit.” he could feel the embarrassment through the call. “S-sure thing Mr. Stark.” Peter answers. Tony sighs “I thought I told you it was Tony.” “Right. Sorry, Tony.”

The next day Ned was sick at home, so it was just Peter and MJ at their usual lunch table. Peter hadn’t said a word all day and he was staring at his lunch. MJ decided she was sick of it. “What’s your deal, Parker?” she asked squinting at him. “Nothing.” he answered quietly. She raised an eye brow before replying, “No-one is that interested in potatoes, Parker. And you haven’t gone on for half an hour about the latest trailer drop or anything. So yeah, you have a deal.” Peter took a breath before looking up at her finally. They had been dating for a little over 6 months now but he would never get over her Tell-Me-Your-Secrets-Parker look. “You can’t tell anyone.” “Not even Leeds?” he paused. “Ned can know. Later, I’ll tell him.”

MJ nodded “So what’s the deal?” Peter sighed before looking back to his lunch and saying “Mr. Stark caught me….doing things.” MJ simply looked at him for a moment before an evil smirk fell on her face. “He what?” “He caught me..ya know…doing things.” “How? He visit? He some kind of perv?” Peter quietly murmured “There are cameras in the suit.”

Her evil smirk widened to a smile. “You were caught jerking off in the Spidey Suit by Iron Man?” He looked up at her panicked and wide eyed. “Not so loud!” he managed through gritted teeth before he slumped into his seat.

MJ paused for a moment before stating, “You should wear the suit next time we do it.” he choked and coughed for a solid minute before he looked up at her, eyes even wider than before, and her evil smirk returned. “What? I can’t. It’s just. You’re. I’m. It’s not. I just. What?!” she shrugged to maintain her uncaring appearance and said “You found an interest. You should pursue it.” “This isn’t like bad mitten or something! This is-” he couldn’t find an end to that sentence.

She rolled her eyes and she asked “Do you wanna try it or not?” his eyes drifted down to the space between them on the table. He mumbled a “Yeah.” She gave a small smile of victory. “Thought so, Nerd.” she said leaning over the table to kiss his cheek. She grabbed her book and began to leave stating “Your place. Saturday. Don’t bail on me Parker.” she gave him an affectionate shove and left for class.

Soon enough Saturday came around and May was out with friends for the weekend. So MJ and Peter are engaging in previously planned activities.

Meanwhile back at Avengers Base Tony is on the hunt. The hunt for his sunglasses. He could’ve sworn he had then recently. He also couldn’t believe he hadn’t put a tracer or locator in them. But then he remembered the other night. Everyone was at the base when someone pointed out Peter kind of looked like Tony. And everyone else agreed and starting insisting Peter try dressing like him. (This is why Tony didn’t like them drinking this much outside of parties.) But they chanted and won out. Tony gave Peter his blazer and sun glasses. He put them on and damn it. He did look like him. When Peter grinned up at him like that, Tony felt a twinge of pride. (More like surge) So Tony took out his phone and pressed Peter’s contact. He would know where it is, right?

Back at the Parker Apartment Peter and MJ lay on Peter’s bed half naked. (Different halves. Not there yet.) Peter’s long since removed mask lay on his nightstand, but because he has the torso still on, the suit is still active. So he doesn’t hear when Karen announces “Incoming call from Tony Stark. Would you like to accept?” Unfortunately the suit’s mic is plenty close to hear Peter when a few moments later he moans “Oh fuck. God yes MJ.” So Karen takes the call.

“Hey Peter. I’m just looking for my glasses, you don’t happen to remember where you left them do you?” No response. Then a muffled groan from a ways away. Why is he so far away from his phone? “Peter? Hey Peter. Pete? Peter!”

Peter’s eyes shoot open as he hears his mentor call for him. He falls off the bed in a panic. “Parker, what the hell-” he pressed his finger to his lips to signal for her to be quiet. Then he slips on the mask quickly. And with the logic of a panicked, currently-extra-hormone-run, teenage brain, he places his hands on the eyes to cover the cameras. “H-hey Mr. Stark.” He starts breathlessly. “Tony.” the man corrects quickly. “Right. Tony. What’s up?” his voice is higher than normal. “Do you remember where you left my glasses?” “uh, Yeah I think they’re on the coffee table.” “Are you sure? Could’ve sworn I was just ther-” That’s when Tony sees his phone screen. “Peter?” “Yes?” his voice is slightly higher and it cracks. “Why are you covering the cameras?” “um…” “Why are you even in the suit?” “…” “Are you doing what I think you’re doing?” “….maybe?” Suddenly MJ chimes in with a “Sup Iron Dude.” and Peter is ready to die. Tony sighs. “Sorry Mr. Stark.” “Tony.” he corrected slightly annoyed before hanging up. And surely enough Tony spots the coffee table and there lie his glasses.

Peter pulls off his mask to see MJ holding back laughter. And failing. Peter looks down shoulders falling. She chuckles again grabbing his hand. “Come on, loser.” she pulled him to sit next to her and kissed him gently. Peter gave a small smile despite still mostly willing to die there.

A few weeks later Peter begins noticing that his suit doesn’t smell normal. Instead of technology and sweaty teenage boy, it smells nice. Like some kind of mixture of tea, flowers, and something else. It all seemed familiar but he couldn’t quite place from where. He eventually realizes it the smell is very similar to that of his girlfriend. But he doesn’t spend that much time with her in the suit. So why would it smell like her all the time?

Peter then gets an idea. He’s in his bedroom when he asks “Karen, can you show me the Baby Monitor Protocol?” “Of course.” she answers. Surely enough there’s way more footage than there should be considering how often he wears the suit. “Play footage.” The videos begin. He skips the first few clips of him. Then suddenly there’s a clip with his suit, his bedroom, his mirror, but that’s not him in the suit. The clip begins and he immediately recognizes the person in the suit as MJ. Her voice, her body, her everything. And she looks good. Like really good. Since the suit adjusts to fit the wearer, the suit clings to her form. It accentuates certain…curves features. And then she’s posing. And it doesn’t help his situation. He’s a teenager with an insanely attractive and smart person he’s lucky enough to call a girlfriend, so he keeps watching, sue him. His body reacts the way you’d expect, but he tries to keep his attention on watching the videos. He almost doesn’t notice when she starts doing impressions. “Look at me. I’m Spider-Man. I save people by night. By day I’m a massive dork with a cute butt.” The rest of the videos are more of that. Her posing and making comments about him via impression. Peter has a new mission. He has to see her doing this in person.

A few days pass and MJ is hanging out at Peter’s place. Ned’s illness caught to his family, so now he has to take care of them. (Peter texts him updates about what’s happening to keep him involved) And May is out on her now biweekly weekends with friends. So once again. It’s just Peter and MJ. They’re watching a documentary via Netflix. Peter is sitting on the couch and MJ is leaning against him. (For support, as she had insisted) About half way through Peter “realizes” that they’re out of soda, so he heads to the store across the street.

He pauses once he’s out the door, ear to the door. Once he hears her moving he waits another minute before silently entering again. He makes his way across the apartment as quietly as he can. Once he reaches the door to his room he peeks inside to see MJ. In the suit. And it’s even hotter in person.

He slowly makes his way to her as she poses again having not seen him. Once he’s behind her, she’s sees his reflection and freezes. Then she stands straight and swivels to face him. “Peter! Hey! I thought you were gonna be longer.” She actually sounds almost nervous. Oh he was definetly enjoying this. He tried not to grin like crazy when she offered a “It’s not what it looks like?”

He simply took off the mask, backed her against the wall, leaned up, and kissed the hell out of her. It didn’t take long for the kiss to grow heated. Things only escalated from there.

Tony poured himself a cup of coffee before going back into his office. He went to return to his business on the computer he left open when he left the room. But unfortunately for him he had forgotten to close the Baby Monitor Protocol Feed from the last time he checked it a few days ago. And the mask happened to be in just a position so it was pointed at them. So he was greeted by the image of Peter and the girl he always talked about kissing, with Peter’s hand having disappeared within the suit. He closed it as quickly as he could. But it wasn’t quite fast enough. He had heard things. He then dialed Peter.

Back at the Casa De Parker Peter and MJ were really getting into it when- suddenly his phone rang. Peter sighed in annoyance as he went to answer it. MJ groaned in frustration, she couldn’t take much more of getting interrupted. “Hey M-Tony,” Peter caught himself. “What’s up?” “Bring the suit back soon as you can. For my own sanity I’m uninstalling the Baby Monitor Protocol.” Peter blushed furiously as he slowly faced the mask away from them. “Y-yes sir.” Tony hung up as Peter gulped and hung his head. “Caught again?” MJ teased with a mischievous smile. He nodded. She chuckled before pausing. “..Wanna do it while I still have the suit on?” Peter slowly looked up at her and grinned. She smirked, “Shut up loser.” Then she pulled him in for a kiss. And she finally got to finish their activities.

[thescriptorium]

[anchored embers]

Natsu&Lucy

Who would have thought ghosts and dragons got along so well? Quite an unlikely duo, especially considering their friendship is technically illegal. But, with the magical world dwindling, who else is there to spend eternity with?

Natsu wasn’t scared. Scared was for children, for the wimps and losers who couldn’t handle themselves when things got a little out of control. He preferred the term creeped out. Yes, that was more like it. He wasn’t shivering in a corner—whimpering and sucking on his thumb, but he couldn’t deny the crawls that skittered across his skin–down his back.

Natsu wasn’t scared. Being afraid meant there was something to be afraid of. A face to the fear. There was no such thing with him. Just the brash drops of temperature when coming home, like he’d forgotten to close the window earlier. It was the fatigue that hit at certain times in the night. It was the how the lights would turn themselves back on after he had flipped the switch, then off, then on again. It was the eerie sense of a presence behind him when he scrubbed the soap from his eyes in the shower.

It was how things always ended up mysteriously broken whenever he turned an eye. His microwave blaring an errored scream when too many buttons were pushed. His tv dissolving into snow when all of his cables were pulled and snapped. His plastic cups falling to ground over and over again.

No, Natsu wasn’t scared. He was going crazy. That’s what he told himself, anyways.

The apartment was a piece of shit. It was stationed next to an ancient railroad that flung its ancient train down the tracks every day at two in the morning. The floors were about as old as the city itself; they hadn’t been redone in decades probably. Neither the walls or anything else in the building. Just the occasional appliance that was upgraded when Natsu even bothered with a complaint.

Everything around him belonged in a museum, and he was no different. Only Natsu aged much more nicely than his surroundings. Other than a few scars here and there, he hadn’t a single wrinkle on him. That fact was stunning for a man his age.

Yes, he has lived long, but he was still a child at heart. He made friends everywhere he went, as well as enemies. He had the smile of the sun itself, and the glare of a demon. He was no two ways, and that was a good thing. He enjoyed his wild path of emotions, because he needed too.

Working as a hired gun was often a strain on a good mood. Though that wasn’t typically what he called himself (it was more of a bodyguard act than anything), the results were all the same. If someone comes at you, get to them first.

He was a guardian. That’s what he did best. He excelled at protecting things he owned, things he liked. Things he didn’t want anyone else having.

Luckily, his possession could be bought for a nice price. Once the exchange was made, you were his, and he was also yours.

Though the pay was definitely sustainable, that didn’t make any of his more annoying clients easy to withstand. Sometimes he brooded through the entire exchange, and sometimes his wild emotions got the better of him and he ended up doing the one thing he was hired to prevent. He never killed anyone (other than who he was paid to), but he couldn’t help a good hit to the nose of a snooty brat in way over his head.

It was tedious at times, but he loved the excitement. Danger was one of his favorite flavors. Only when he knew he could win though, which he always did. The fights he fought were simple. Bad guys doing bad things that needed to be stopped.

They had faces. They had substance.

The ominous presence in his apartment now, did not.

Natsu had almost gotten used to the hit of exhaustion that came with entering his front door. It was as if the entire day just oozed out of him in clumps. He had no idea why coming home made him so dreadfully tired when his heart was still pounding of adrenaline three steps back.

Natsu dragged his feet through the clutter of his abode. He had no problem with tripping around on his own junk, on the faded, prickling smells of old dishes in the sink, and clothes on the floor; on ancient trinkets he found in the strange towns he travelled in on jobs, and even some he found already in his apartment, before he moved in.

Like the chain of golden keys laying underneath his bed when he was searching for his missing sock. They were chipped and dusty, but still probably worth a hell of cash. He found he liked how they shimmered though, once cleaning them up, and decided to keep them. He never did find out what all those keys unlocked though, but lost interest soon after discovery.

The couch sagged as Natsu slumped into it. It groaned when he moved, and the floor whined in a harmonious chime, as if they all wanted to sing a song together. He let his lazy, drained eyes travel to the tv to watch a show maybe, but of course, all he was allowed tonight was a snowy haze. His eyes flicked down to where the receiver plug sat, unplugged.

He didn’t feel like getting up to plug it in. He didn’t even really feel like watching tv.

Natsu felt a sense then. A watching sense. He wasn’t scared, but the hairs on his arms stood on its ends. It was too quiet without the tv. He could hear the train blare its horn in the distance, letting the world know it was coming soon to startle everyone awake in the deep night.

In a flash, Natsu jumped at the movement that scurried in his peripheral. His fists had locked, but only to stop midway of punching the everliving shit out of the animal in his lap.

“Shit, Happy,” he lifted up the cat, who meowed in response.

He petted the cat’s smooth fur tersely. Happy didn’t seem to mind.

With the shot of adrenaline, Natsu found the motivation to get to his feet. He went to his kitchen, not even sparing a glance to the mountain of cups and plates in the basin, and went to grab a beer from his dingey little fridge. Little pops went about his feet though; he had kicked around another plastic cup he could’ve sworn was in the pile with the rest of them.

He was just glad he never found his glass cups flying off the shelves.

Flicking the cup away with the toe of his boot, Natsu cracked open his can and downed nearly half of it in one swig. He debated whether he wanted to shower tonight or not. It always seemed like a chore with him.

Plus, he got the creeps the most in the shower. Or maybe he just felt more vulnerable when he was naked. Could be either, or both.

Just as quickly as the energy had been drained of him when he arrived, Natsu felt like he had been submerged in a bucket of ice water. Something around him had sucked all the heat from the air. He felt his skin prickle again. It was eerily silent. Out of habit his eyes skittered around. It wouldn’t be the first time someone had broken into his place for a hit, but he usually sniffed them out before any real damage could be done.

His senses were, to put modestly, above average. He listened, searched, and waited. The floors creaked beneath his feet as his weight shifted. For a second he thought he heard it echoed right beside him. But alas:

Nothing.

Natsu went to check his thermostat, and found that it was unchanged. The AC hadn’t ever, or probably would, turn on. So what was it? he wondered. Natsu was never cold, and he was standing here shivering, tired. Hallucinating.

Just go pass the fuck out, he ended up telling himself. The job he had returned from was hard and bitter, with an snotty princess who liked rebelling against her parents to look after.

“Happy c’mon,” he called out, turning down the hall to his bedroom door.

A creak sounded from inside his room and Natsu expected to see the spoiled cat laid out on his pillow already. When his hand brushed the splintered door, he froze. His eyes slid down to the mass pressing on his ankle.

Happy, wrapped around his jeans. He stared at him with his doe-like eyes. Full of innocence.

And not in the bedroom.

Natsu was not playing around anymore. He crashed into his own room, punching the light on only to have it flicker. His eyes dashed around for the intruder, his feet pulled and fists ready to take on whoever wanted him dead now. The lights flickered to emptiness. Then popped on fully.

Natsu checked behind the door. Still nothing. Heart still hammering. His skin still shivering and weariness still gnawing at him.

Something groaned behind him. He whipped to it, only to see a flash of gold disappear down the hallway he’d just come from. Without thinking, he chased after the intruder. “Hey!” he yelled.

All the while wondering how the fuck someone got in and past him, Natsu tried to remember where he dropped his guns. In some pile probably, and empty of its ammo.

The flash of gold rounded another corner to the main area. It made no sound as it ran, as breathless as the wind. Natsu, fed up, pent up of months of this trickery, whirled around the same corner as it. His blood pumped lava. His lungs breathed smoke. His skin bubbled with rage and out shot his fist.

A bloody, curdling ball of fire exploded in the room. It dazzled in his eyes—a magnificent light as bright as the sun. Flames licked the walls and ceiling, a gruesome heat enveloping them both, swallowed whole.

Natsu blew out a smoker’s breath. Only he did not smoke. There was simply, a fire in his lungs. He waited with a churning courage for his flames to dissipate, and reveal what was left of the intruder. He now could put a face to this fear of his.

Only, it wasn’t a face he expected.

A simple human. A woman. The flash of gold he’d spotted before–her hair. Long tresses that fell down her back, over her shoulders in a wild haze.

Her hair wasn’t what had Natsu speechless though. It was her, in and all, of herself. Other than the horrified expression that engrossed her, she was completely unaffected. She was as flawless as him. Unscathed. Unsinged. Unburned.

How?

No one could evade his flames. They were trained to chase after exactly what he wanted, and destroy it—erase it from existence. Unless what he wanted couldn’t be touched.

His fire went right through her. His apartment was smouldering, the floors, walls, everything, blackened to a crisp. The kitchen counters he could see behind her—scorched. Not because she moved–she was well frozen in place–but because she wasn’t really here. And she also was. Her form flickered like the lights liked to do. She was a breath of air, a soft wind, fragile yet unstoppable.

Realization hit Natsu like a swift kick. All of what’s been happening here, the unusual activity, the unexplainable wonders. It had all finally snapped itself into place. It was this. It was her.

“You’re a ghost,” Natsu said. He left no room for consideration, for debate. He knew without a doubt in the world.

The girl let out a breath. A ghost breath. One that wasn’t real. Her eyes were as blazing as her hair.

“You’re a dragon,” she replied. Her tone matched his identically.

Natsu considered himself then, with a start. That was a secret he’d managed to keep for a majority of his life. Usually those who discover this don’t live long enough to tell the tale.

It was forbidden to use his magic. And even more so to know what, exactly, he was. In this modern day and age, that was cause for treason with the Magic Council. All supernatural beings that were still alive needed to be kept a secret.

They needed to be kept fairy tales.

Despite it all, Natsu felt his sharp canines pull from his lips. “Well, shit.”

Natsu had forgotten how exhilarating these situations were. The fear of someone unknown knowing his secret, a secret that could quite easily destroy him. The idea of someone catching him off his guard like this. Especially a someone who couldn’t be burnt to ashes–taken care of so simply. Yes, it was quite a turn of events for him.

The ghost seemed to finally catch her voice after a few pounding moments. Smoke billowed around her, a scorched vortex circling where her body should be, given it was real. Her voice trembled from her lips: “You can see me?”

Natsu cocked an aggressive eyebrow. “Yeah? Why else would I burn the hell out of my apartment?”

Offended, she frowned. “Well usually you can’t.” she said, stubbornly.

That cast an unknown sense into the air, a curious, debateful mood. Why was she visible? Now, of all times? Assuming of course, that she’s resided here much longer than Natsu or anyone else.

Natsu, always thinking on his own track, let his voice go shrill and scratchy of realization, “So, it was you around here! You’ve been messing around with all my stuff.”

The ghost, despite having no blood flowing through her veins, seemed to flush. She toyed with the ruffles of her dress, “Oh. Well, yes. I suppose. I can’t really recall–”

Natsu scrunched up his nose then, not to be intentionally rude. It was a curious habit he had, one that coincided with his ‘observing’ face. He hadn’t noticed the strangeness of how she spoke before. Her voice was accented in a dialect he couldn’t distinguish. It wasn’t elegant, but definitely more proper. The ends of her syllables flew up at the ends, in a high pitch that could only mean nobility.

With this observation, Natsu took more to notice. She was styled in a gown, one with frills and layers and a corset that looked hard to breathe in. Guess she’s lucky she doesn’t have to breathe anymore, Natsu thought, then grimaced at the grim humor. Despite the nice dress, she appeared disheveled. Her hair still flowing wildly, some rips in the fabrics, shoeless.

She was quite the mystery. They both were.

“What, you don’t remember sucking out all of my energy every time I passed through that door?” Natsu questioned.

She was nearly appalled at his bluntness. Then she considered it. “I don’t remember doing much of anything here.”

“What do you remember then? Don’t you know who you are?”

The ghost seemed happy he asked, warmth filling the smile on her cold, dead lips. She let out a chiming, fanciful laugh. “Heiress to the Heartfilia Konzern, Miss Lucy Heartfilia,” she crooned, and curtseyed. She held out her dress with two painted nails, her accent thick and rich.

Definitely a weirdo, Natsu couldn’t help but think.

“And you?”

“Natsu Dragneel,” he amused her, “Of the dragon race.”

The way she lit up at that joke had Natsu stifling a smile. “You really are a dragon then! I’ve read so many books about Fiore’s creatures but I never thought I’d actually get to see one.”

Natsu felt a swell of pride. It’s been awhile since he’s last been praised for his powers, instead of persecuted. She seemed to notice the damage done to his apartment now, noticing the singing scars that now coated every crevasse surrounding her. “You are quite the monster.”

There was no bitterness to her tone, so Natsu took it as a compliment. One he welcomed.

Lucy seemed to wander then, her attention quickly caught to the other mechanisms of his loft. Now, being able to actually feel things with her fingers, she touched everything: the cool stone of his kitchen counters, the masoned tiles beneath her feet, the chilling metal of the kitchen faucet. She flicked it on and gaped at the stream of water pouring from it, onto his pile of dirtied plates. “This is clean?”

It took Natsu a moment to realize she meant the water. He supposed from her time, having that so accessibly would be astounding. He nodded casually.

Off, and on. Off, and on. She moved to the other side of the island and a laugh escaped her. Despite her manifestation, she was still a vague enigma compared to Natsu. Her voice had no origin or end, a simple breath in the room that bounced from wall to wall, between each of Natsu’s ears. “Oh, I remember these! They’re my favorite.” she said, and with her accent sounded more like faahvorite.

“Wha–”

PLONK

A plastic cup bounced around on the tiled floors now, Lucy laugher careening off the smoldered walls. She watched with a fantastic gleam as the cup rolled to a stop. She picked it up again and let it drop to the floor. “They’re indestructible,” she gasped, squeezing the sides of it.

Natsu watched like an aging parent as Lucy scampered around, flicking on lights, asking how the fires managed to ignite so quickly and then diffuse, what kind of instrument the microwave was to play such shrill beeps, what the tangle of cords were that belonged to Natsu’s weary tv (ones she tangled herself), and anything else in between that she could ask questions about.

Suddenly the room began to shake, the floorboards trembled beneath their feet and walls shivered. Lucy whipped around her, fear overtaken on her curiousity a second before. “What is that–what’s happening? Natsu?” Natsu eased her with a simple gaze. “It’s just the train passing by, it’ll be over in a minute.”

“Train?” she echoed. Something familiar, they both realized. Something not utterly foreign to her. “Where?”

Natsu led her to one of the few windows he had in the apartment. It’s view was particularly sucky, but as he came with a fresh pair of eyes, a pair as pure as hers, whom probably never even seen such a thing, he came to see the city in a new perspective.

Flashing billboards, bright marquees, honking cars, dozens of people walking around despite the lateness of the night. Up aways, an overstanding bridge that held the train passing by, the steady clunk clunk clunk of its tracks sending corresponding jolts to their bones.

Lights dazzled Lucy’s eyes. “Unbelievable. This is Hargeon now? All of those lights, those colors–how? And those things–no horses? How–” that seemed to be the only word she could summon.

Natsu said the only explanation he could give. “The world moves pretty fast sometimes. It’s kinda hard to keep up.”

Lucy wasn’t expecting someone like him to relate to her disbelief. Though she supposed now, as she recalled the knowledge she read so long ago, that dragons didn’t age exactly as humans. He looked no older than 20 years old, but it was obvious he was much older than that. Lucy could see years behind his eyes.

Her eyes travelled back to the last seconds of the passing train. In old faded letters on the car, she saw the company name, and a smile slipped onto her lips.

“I see my father didn’t fail as he expected he would,” she murmured.

Natsu didn’t understand. She pointed to Heartfilia Railways painted on the escaping train car. Lucy leaned her arms on the windowsill and held her cheek in her palm. Something solemn crossed her features then, a bittersweet flash that Natsu hadn’t enough knowledge to understand.

“How am I here?” she asked, in such a way she wasn’t sure to herself or to the stranger next to her.

“Well, I think you died,” Natsu attempted. He looked again at her clothes, “I’m guessing a helluva long time ago too.”

“It doesn’t feel that long ago.”

Natsu wasn’t sure what to say then. It was after all, his first encounter with a ghost. He’s crossed paths with many monsters and mythologies in his life, gods and devils, but this was the first time he’d ever had a true conversation with one. Heard their thoughts, what they felt. What they were going through. Usually he only had time to get a few crude words in before he had a ice sword aimed at his heart.

It was weird. This was weird. And the ghost? Definitely weird. All of this weirdness had him weary—his feet stumbled him into a wooden chair. The choppy legs wobbled under his weight.

“Feeling okay?” Lucy asked, after she tore her view from the world outside.

“Yeah…tired,” he replied. Then the lightbulb in his head flickered. “You taking my energy again or somethin’?”

Curiously, Lucy stood before him. Then she looked down at herself, at her tangible arms and legs, at the tile she could feel with her feet. “Possibly. Not sure how to stop it though.”

Natsu hummed, his cheek in his palm and eyelids fluttering. She continued to observe herself though, and in her eyes pages were flying by, the books and articles she studied all those years ago about gods and monsters. Some were fairy tales, some a man’s life worth all wrapped into a biography. Somewhere, she knew, she had the answer.

Then her own lightbulb popped on.

“You found my trinket!”

Natsu, half-asleep, felt a bite of cold on his hand, “Your wha?” It was Lucy’s hand, tugging him up to his feet. He stirred awake at that and was led like a puppy around his apartment.

“Ghosts are just souls too tied to something on earth for them to move on,” she explained. “It could be anything really, just something that mattered a lot to them when they were alive. It’s like they picked up some magical voodoo stuff after-death.”

Natsu sat on the arm of his couch as Lucy tousled through his stuff, searching bookshelves and cabinets and ducking under furniture.

“Okay,” he said. He rubbed his eye and yawned. “So what about it?”

Lucy looked up from her place on the floor, eyes wide and brown. “So, my trinket must be here! It’s the only explanation as to why I’m here!”

Waving a hand at his clueless look, Lucy continued on her search. The couch moaned and the floor groaned as Natsu slid from the armrest onto the cushions. He slumped and watched Lucy with a sleepy look.

“You died a while ago though, haven’t you always been here?” he asked. Sure, he was a dragon and apart of this magical world, but it didn’t mean he knew everything about everything. He knew who and what he was, and that was all he ever needed to know.

“I’ve been stuck here,” Lucy clarified, “Stuck flickering lights and playing with cups. But something activated my trinket. Some kind of magic—your magic.”

Even Natsu knew that magic wore off after a while. It could be from no use at all, or too much at once. There needed to be a medium with its use, or else the consequences could be deadly. This trinket of hers was probably getting too old, but somehow had managed to survive. Perhaps what Lucy was taking from him wasn’t his energy, but his magic flow.

“My rage is my magic,” he murmured, face stuffed in pillows.

Lucy smiled, “That I don’t doubt.”

She was stuck on the floor now, feeling the coarse fibers of the rug beneath her knees and the heat start to build underneath her dress. New feelings, new sensations. They were all starting to flow back into her, one by one, as Natsu sunk further and further into the couch. She bit her lip in worry. She was taking too much of his magic and didn’t know how to stop it.

If only she found her trinket.

“It has to be around here somewhere,” she sighed. “Once I get it…” Well, she wasn’t entirely sure what would happen to her. Just that Natsu would be okay.

In a second she crawled over, tapped her fingers against Natsu’s cheek. He stirred awake from a sudden sleep again, groaning. “Think Natsu. Did you find anything when you moved in here? Something out of place? Something weird?”

Words tumbled from his mouth in a mess, trapped by the pillow. Lucy perked, leaning in closer, “What? What did you say?”

“F….fuckin’ rats in my bathtub…” his eyes slid closed again, “Wasn’t cool….”

Lucy shoved him back on his pillow and fell back on the carpet. She huffed at him and looked around uselessly. She was never going to find it. She didn’t even know what it was.

Natsu was going to die. And then, she heard it.

The jangle. Not any jangle, but the jangle. One that had her crashing through years and years of her life, shattering windows of memories and old rusted feelings she hadn’t felt since she was a child.

A kitty trotted pass her then, weaving between table legs and under chairs, jangling with each step. Lucy followed, her speed kicking up as she struggled to make sense of where she heard that chime before.

Then she saw it. The cat had rounded the corner behind the couch, and sat. With a keychain between it’s teeth.

Half a dozen golden keys hung from that chain, as glittering and perfect as the last day she saw them. Her heart…thumped. With misery of how much she realized she missed those keys. Of course they would be the trinket.

It was the only item in the world she cared more than her life about.

And it was when her fingers brushed the steel, that Natsu gasped. He started, power rushed his veins in harsh gulps, pouring down his throat and filling his lungs. The tang of it burnt his nose, seared his eyes. He sputtered, once, twice, before settling back into the moment. He breathed out a breath of smoke, the burning in his chest refocusing as well. His vision cleared.

“Hey,” he sang, “you did it–”

Silence drove itself into Natsu’s ears. He turned and was met with a creak in the flooring beneath him instead Lucy’s voice,instead of her face, her scent, her presence. Happy sat, licking himself—the space in front of him bare.

He got to his feet, eyes traveling with every sharp turn of his head. “Lucy?”

It sunk in him like a river stone, the thought. The weighted coil that tied his throat. The drop of his gut.

She was gone. Just like that.

The first person that was like him. That he liked. Who he didn’t have to hide his entire self from. It felt stupid in a way—he had only just met her, but their circumstances were…special. Unusual. And he only clicked with people like that only so often.

Now she was…where? Heaven, hell? Probably not hell. But in the afterlife, certainly. She’d found her trinket tying her here, and that was how it worked right?

She had saved him too.

Disappointment left a taste Natsu didn’t like in mouth. He didn’t even get to say thank you. Or goodbye.

Happy’s mewl snapped Natsu back into reality. His physical, non-ghost reality. Sighing, he picked up the cat and brought them both through the scorched living room, down the hallway, and to a restless night in bed.

It took some time for Natsu to get used to living without Lucy. He didn’t realize how much she affected his life, day in and day out, until she was gone. There were no more cold spots, no more fatigue or woozy spells that hit when he passed through his door. Cups stayed on their counters, and the floorboards only creaked when he stepped on them. He was no longer looking over his shoulder in the shower, or checking his peephole for some threat behind his door.

His apartment was boring. It had lost all it’s character, all its Lucy. Everything that made him sure there was still magic in the world. That he wasn’t like last of his kind, stranded out here amongst mortals.

She was a type no one would ever know was still here. A type he wouldn’t be arrested for for assembling with without Magic Council permission, because ghosts are notorious for being forgotten about. Not to mention untraceable.

It frustrated him how perfect it was. How perfect their friendship could’ve been.

But, as he had learned a long, long time ago: time moves on, and he had to do the same. Getting left behind while the day and age changed was not something he would wish upon his worst enemy. And so of course, as soon as he had toughened himself up and looked toward a brighter future, put Lucy and her fiasco behind him, there was only one thing that could happen.

Lucy herself, in her flickering, ghastly essence, tumbling onto his bedroom floor in the middle of the night.

It was the sound that woke Natsu, the buzzing lights that sat him up, and the sudden figure next to him that had him shrieking and a small fire burning his bedsheets.

“Natsu!” Lucy exclaimed.

“What the hell?”

She approached him as one would approach a floppering fish on a dock. All tangled up in his singed sheets, Lucy hopped around his form as he made it to his feet. His chest heaved and breathed plumed smoke, but when their eyes connected, that was when he stilled. It had been months since they’d last seen each other.

“I’m back,” she said. She smiled tentatively, unsure if it was the right thing to be said. Reading his expression wasn’t a skill she had yet obtained.

It wasn’t until a grin nearly broke his face in half that she was certain it was. He launched off his feet to her then, arms spread wide, but while he expected to meet skin, perhaps dead, cold skin at least, every part of him simply breezed right through her. They turned to face each other again, standing in each others places.

Natsu couldn’t help but welcome the freezing rush that prickled his skin.

“Perhaps not entirely as I was before,” she continued, “but I believe the longer I stay in this realm, the easier it’ll get for me.”

Something off about Lucy caught sight then. Not wrong per se, but definitely different. She seemed older. Not in age, but in the mind. She looked as though she finally fit into her skin, like an amatuer who finally gotten that incessant trick, and was now a master of them all.

Lucy was no longer a lost, wandering soul. But a ghost, a ghoul, with every single one of her wits about her.

Natsu was too busy studying her to notice her drifting fingers reach toward him. It was the slightest brush, the most electric shock he had felt in months. It had his skin crawling with bumps and heart stuttering. Only a single moment in time felt like a hour, before her touch phased through his arm.

“See? Already getting the hang of it.” she smiled, cheekily as she could.

“I thought you were gone,” he said, then, “Well, gone for good.”

“So did I,” she admitted, “It’s been a crazy adventure since I left.”

Some gleam in her eye just had Natsu on the edge of his toes. Like a spark of fire in his chest. So similar to the sparks he felt way back in the day. “What happened?”

Natsu was eager to know and Lucy was just as eager to tell. So, that’s what she did, for what felt like hours. She talked on and on about her venture into the ghostly afterlife, about her mysterious lion guide and entire realm of mystical spirit beings. Different magical beings go to different afterlifes, different heavens and hells and everything in between. Lucy, being a special breed herself, unbeknownst, had quite a special realm waiting for her. Some good things happened, and some not so good things, and now she was here.

Back where she started. Yet so entirely more her.

Hearing Lucy go on, about her fears and joys, about discovering buried places and ideals, it had that flame in Natsu’s heart flickering. Blowing air to the ember. It pulsed and heated, and Natsu couldn’t remember the last time he had been on such an adventure, on something so heartstopping and exhilarating.

Ever since the Magic Council had captured him. Put a dulling curse on his fire magic.

“I wish you could’ve seen it, Natsu, there’s no possible way I can explain it right,” she breathed, sighing back onto the couch they sat on. “It was unlike anything I’ve ever seen before.”

Natsu laid back too, copying her motion, and sighed right alongside her. “Yeah, I know a few places like that too.”

“Like the celestial world?”

“No,” he attempted, “Just…amazing places. Amazing people.”

Lucy turned on her side, her eyes trailing up his form to land on his face. That familiar curiosity lined her features again, the one Natsu knew so well.

“Like where you were born?” she asked.

“Something like that.”

“Is it still here? In this age?”

That was a question Natsu asked himself nearly every night, when his eyes betrayed him with falling closed. “Ah, I doubt it.”

“But you don’t know for sure?” she insisted, sitting up. “What if it’s still there?”

Natsu looked to her, with stars in her eyes and dust on her cheeks. It blew another breath on the controlled fire in his chest, the chain around the ember rattling.

“We could look for it.”

“Lucy,” he started, but stopped. She didn’t understand. She couldn’t understand, she never would. He couldn’t say that he had tried this before, and failed. That he was captured and imprisoned for hundreds of years, by decree of the Magic Council. That when he was released, he didn’t know where he was, or how drastically time had changed. How nothing or no one he knew before was there anymore, and the familiar charge of his magic was muffled by a spell, only to be undone by a Council member on their say so.

“It’s dangerous,” was all he could say.

“And I’m dead,” she joked, “And that little fire trick—”

“Not that kind of dangerous,” he didn’t mean to talk over her, but she wasn’t understanding. “It’s illegal for magical folk assemble in numbers anymore, Lucy. And it’s especially illegal to be stirring up old civilizations that are long past their due. All because I’m feeling homesick.”

He felt stupid saying that. All his life all he ever did was exactly what the Magic Council hated. He never thought in a million years he would be talking himself out of breaking the law—he was Natsu fucking Dragneel, Salamander of Magnolia, the monster of everyone’s fears. He could burn down a city and go slay a Vulcan with power to spare. Nothing could stop him.

But now?

He could barely scuff up his apartment without feeling drained. Without the coil wounding around his chest squeezing his lungs, his veins of power.

Lucy had fallen quiet, and Natsu knew it was because of him. He always had trouble keeping those emotions at bay, the longing of it all. “Then I will. For you.” she said.

The look Natsu gave Lucy matched Happy’s when someone yanked on his tail.

“They can’t imprison a ghost, and they certainly can’t kill one. And…this is important to you.”

Something squeezed Natsu’s heart then, and it wasn’t Lucy’s ghastliness or the Council’s spellwork. Here she was, back from some wild, insane adventure and ready to hop on another one. God, he missed those days. Missed that feeling of no quest ever being enough.

His mortal job as a bodyguard only did so much for him. In fact, it did very little.

What was the point of being this amazing creature if he couldn’t live as an amazing creature? Why was it he was forced to act normal, like mortals? Did he really plan on spending eternity like this, pretending like his whole world died away while he was busy wasting away in prison?

No. Lucy wouldn’t get to be the lucky one to go off on adventures. Not without him she wouldn’t. It was time for the monster to come back, for the dragon to earn his wings again. He spent hundreds of years in prison once, he could do it again. But like hell would they capture him as easily this time.

“It is important to me,” he told her. He stood from his place on the sagging couch and the groaning floorboards, and felt his fingers tingle with flame. “And fuck it if anyone wants to stop me from going where I wanna go!”

Lucy sprouted a grin that quite scarily, matched his.

“I want to you show my home and that’s exactly what I’m gonna do!” he said, voice rising with each word. Lucy had popped up to her feet as well, the floor singing with each of their happy steps, “Let’s go to fucking Fiore!”

Lucy cheered. Happy jumped from his place on the back of the couch, a shimmering light pouring from his spine. Lucy smile turned into a gape of horror as a spindly wing ripped its way from the cat’s back, the creature tumbling to the ground between their feet.

“Ew—?!”

“Don’t get too ahead of yourself Hap, we still have to get these spells taken off,” Natsu huffed, picking up the cat as he mewled. The feathery wing sunk back into place, skin molding around the slit as if it were never there.

“Was that a wing?” Lucy yelped. She appeared several paces away from the two, disgusted in every way and form.

“Yeah, believe it or not, he’s not actually a cat.” Natsu chuckled, holding Happy’s nose to his, “But don’t worry boy, we’ll get both our wings and your voice back. Just hold on.”

Lucy hadn’t even begun their magical adventure and she was already too shocked to speak. “You two are spelled?”

Natsu caught her eye from beside him, and felt stilled by those big brown eyes of hers. He considered telling her then, everything that had happened, all the rough and gorey pieces of it. But, he decided against it. It was in the past, and with Lucy, he only wanted the future.

“You think all dragons are supposed to look like humans?” he smirked.

Lucy huffed, all concern vanishing in a blink. In another, she looked down to where Natsu had taken her hand, his skin so smooth and warm compared to her deathly flesh. She almost pulled away, before she found she’d rather not.

“We have a lot to do Luce, and a helluva time to catch up,” he grinned at her. It was true.

They did have forever.

“First stop is getting both me and Happy our wings,” he sighed, his eyes all lidded with the natural smuggery that came with being dragon race. “Time to show you what a dragon can really do with some fire.”

Lucy felt herself being tugged, her lips pulling at the corners. She allowed Natsu to lead her along, out of their apartment, with a blue cat in tow.

“Trying to impress me now, are you?” she mused.

One single, sharp tug and she was bumbling into a hard chest. If she had blood in her veins, she might’ve blushed. Natsu was already eliciting heat like a hearth, and she couldn’t even remember the last time she had felt…warmed.

“I definitely am,” he laughed. “Just you wait.”

Lucy didn’t think she could wait. Seeing how giddy he was, how amazing she knew these places he spoke of must’ve been, she thought she might explode right then and there. She did the only thing she could think of in that moment, and it just so happened to be something she had been thinking of doing since the first she met him.

Her lips found the barest bone of his cheek. She pressed down as hard as she dared, before she realized what she was and pulled away. A ghostly kiss. Cold and clammy and gross, it had to be. She shouldn’t of done that.

But, when she set back on her feet, Natsu didn’t look the least bit disgusted. Confused for a second, yes, but Lucy could deal with that. He couldn’t keep down a grin after that.

“I hope you enjoy this moment right now,” he spoke, deep and happy, “because as of this moment, Lucy, you and me both are now wanted by the Magic Council for treason and conspiracy to unveil. Punishable by 600 years in the Black Vox prison.”

Lucy started, “Wait, what?”

The only answer she got after that was scratchy, unadulterated laughter, and the feeling of fiery flames dancing across her phantom skin.

[noonachronicles]

Kiss It Better

Kim Namjoon/ Rap Monster x Reader 

Sweet Joonie smut request.

Today was a very bad day. Today had been the worst day. Today was a double at work because your coworker quit without notice. Today was sixteen hours on your feet running back and forth being yelled at for things that were completely out of your control. Today was fighting a middle aged business man for the last seat on the train and then crying silently as you waited for your stop to come.

You only cried for about three stops, which wasn’t actually that bad considering that every other time it had gotten bad enough where you cried on the train ride home it had lasted the entire route. This time was different because you knew Namjoon would be home when you got there and just the thought of his arms around you released most of the stress from your shoulders. As you wiped your cheeks you looked across from you and noticed a younger girl reading a book and you smiled, remembering the first time you’d seen Namjoon.

You’d been sitting on the train, not the same train you were on now or in the same seat, but you were sitting on the train going home when you saw him. That day had been pretty bad too but nowhere near the worst. Seeing him immediately brightened your day though because he had maybe the worst sense of style you’ve ever seen in your life. He was wearing a pink baseball cap, an oversize shirt and a pair of overalls that reached just under his shins. He looked terrible and you had to bite your tongue to keep from laughing, not that you thought he would notice. He had been preoccupied, eyes buried in the pages of the book in his lap.

As you continued to watch him you noticed more than his style. You noticed the deep dimples in his cheeks, his incredibly plump lips, his sharp jaw and strong hands. You got so caught up in learning the details of him that you almost missed your stop. Jumping up you had to push madly passed the mass of people to make it through the doors before they sealed shut. You stayed more consistent after that as far as what train car you stuck to on the ride home. He was usually there too. Glasses perched on his nose always a different book in his lap. His outfits got more tolerable but you had an appreciation for the first terrible one for getting you to notice him. He’d caught you staring several times and each time you would look away, or pretend to be looking just passed him in some sort of daze. Namjoon would just smile and look back down at his book.

One day, a rainy day, your usual car was packed when you stepped inside. No seat in sight. As the door closed behind you and the train jolted forward you noticed he was looking at you, really looking, trying to get your attention. He placed his hand on his backpack, that was on the seat next to him and nodded. You slipped through a handful of people and once your were standing in front of him he removed the backpack so that you could sit. From that day on you always sat next to Namjoon.

He would come to admit months later, while you were curled up on his couch together with a half eaten pizza on the coffee table and a movie playing on the television, that he never got off the train at his stop. He had missed his stop the first time you’d seen him because he was too busy looking at you looking at him. After that he thought you might think it was weird if he started to get off at a different spot so he would stay on the train until the stop after yours and then take the opposite line back to his actual stop. That night he asked you to move in and said it would just be easier and less time consuming for him if you both got off at the same stop, and so you did. 

When you opened the door to the apartment the smell of a delicious dinner wafted passed you. You tore your shoes from your feet and dropped your jacket on the ground needing to see him as soon as possible, and not wanting to waste the seconds it would take to hang your coat. As you walked towards the kitchen your heart raced in anticipation of his smile. You got to see it sooner than expected when he popped his head into the hall, he smiled at the sight of you and your heart melted in your chest. You literally skipped the rest of the way towards him and wrapped your arms around him tighter than ever before.

He squeezed back without question engulfing you completely in his embrace. Closing your eyes you took in a deep breath of his scent and sighed. He rubbed your back gently and whispered, “I thought I heard you.”

When you looked up you captured those plump lips you loved so much in your own and the room was silenced save for the sound of smacking lips and boiling water. He let out a sigh as you pulled away, happily surprised by your affection this evening.

“Hi.” you smiled up at him letting your arms hang loosely around his hips.

“Hi.” he laughed, “how was your day?”

“Terrible.”

“Ah, I see.” He kept his arms around you and pulled you with him as he walked backwards into the kitchen, towards the stove. He removed one arm from you just long enough turn off the stove and remove the pot from the burner. Just like that his arms were back around you and he held you tight as he walked you back through the hall, gently pecking on the tops of your cheeks, your nose, your eyes lids, everywhere. You found yourselves in the bedroom and he moved so that the backs of your legs were pressed against the mattress.

“What are you doing?” You asked pressing another kiss on his lips.

He smirked, “Making your day better.”

“Joonie…” you blushed sitting down on the edge of the bed, “You don’t have to do this.”

“Baby…” You sucked in a deep breath. That was your trigger word. Every time you heard that two syllable word slip from his lips you were done for. Without fail it set sparks through your veins like fireworks shooting into the sky. He knew it. He loved it. “I want to do this for you. Now lay back and relax.”

Leaning back on your elbows you watched as he lifted up your work skirt around your hips and tugged your leggings down. With every inch of exposed skin he left a gently kiss. You’re thighs, knees, shins, and calves. Even the tops of your feet. He could be rough when he wanted to be but when he was gentle, that’s when he truly shined. He left little kisses along your thighs again, across your pelvis and then finally against the moist spot in the middle of your panties.

Your body quivered and throbbed simultaneously at his touch. The way he was so delicate with you could have made you cry again. The big strong hands, the ones you’d noticed on the train, softly pulled the panties from your hips and down your legs. He dipped his face back between your thighs. He kissed your lips like he would your face. Light pulls and gentle pressure. He even trailed a soft lick across your sex , as if requesting permission like he did with your mouth. He took your tiny gasp a warm welcome.

His fingers dug into your thighs as he went to work. His lips sucking you gently into his mouth, his tongue alternating swirls between your entrance and your clit. Your arms grew weak and you crashed down into the mattress. With your eyes closed it was easy to imagine you were laying on a cloud. You couldn’t even remember what you had been upset about in the first place. Anything that wasn’t this moment of total bliss had been erased from your memory.

“Mm, Joonie.” you whimpered as he curled his fingers against your slick walls.

“Baby…” you let out a gasp as the fingers you’d had in his hair balled into a fist. You didn’t even remember doing that. “Ah- ouch.”

“Sorry,” you laughed releasing his locks. “Joonie, come here. I want you.”

“Ask nice.”

“Please.” you smirked rubbing a finger gently over his cheek.

He stood up and you realized he must have been stroking himself already because his pants dropped from his hips in an instant. His full erection already glistening beautifully with precum. You were that much more impressed knowing that he had been multitasking that whole time.

As he leaned into you he slipped one hand up your shirt while the other one framed your head. His fingers gently played with your splayed hair as he kissed your neck. He fit inside of you perfectly, your missing puzzle piece in every single way. You tightened your thighs around his hips as he started to groan and grunt against your throat.

“Oh baby,” he muttered, his tongue slipping over your throat and you gasped again, your eyes fluttered closed.

You slipped your hands up the back of his shirt to explore the warm, wide expansion of his shoulders. You could feel the muscles working under his skin as he thrust further, faster, as he got closer to his release. He nibbled on your neck as he came. His warmth gushing inside you taking you over the edge with him. He laid on his side next to you and ran his hand through your hair.

“So,” he smiled, kissing your flushed cheek. “How was your day?”

“It was okay.” you smirked kissing the corner of his smug mouth.

“Excuse you? It was ‘okay’?” he said raising an eyebrow.

“It’s just, I haven’t eaten since breakfast. Maybe if I had some food, I could upgrade to like… good.” you laughed as his smile faded into a glare.

“You’re so mean.” he pouted and rolled off the bed. “You’re so mean I’m not going to give you any of the food I made for dinner. I’m going to go throw it in the trash.”

You watched his naked butt walk out of the bedroom. “Joonie!! No!”

“It was never about me!” He yelled down the hall, “It was always about the food!”

You jumped off the bed and ran down the hall to wrap him in a back hug. You left several quick kisses against his neck and he laughed, “It’s always been about you.”