My People's Poet (pRick) cosplay - Costume test (pre badges) vs final costume

animeverse where eren is still in his cell and hange+others have an idea of bringing ina girl to fuc to 'loosen him up' so he can give info,hange has studies n research to back this up they bring you dressed scantily to go be his whore he knows why ur there n hates u so hes mean and ignores ur advances eventually he hate fucks u w his anger being directed at u from his situation choking xtreme degrading just being rough in general MEAN SERIOUS EREN NO FLUFF OR LOVE

catalyst

eren yeager x reader

warnings: nsfw, roughness, mentions of breeding, degredation, choking, explicit language

a/n: this is my first prompt request n i was vvvv nervous so pls go easy on me ok ok i hope i did your vision justice

“As romantic as this reunion is, it’s not a date, we need answers.” Levi’s words were austere, ricocheting off the passage walls as the three of you traveled deeper below ground. “He’s still a shitty-ass teenager. Hopefully isolation has made him desperate enough for female contact.”

You said nothing, and instead your eyes looked around fretfully. The chamber was inhospitable, forged from naked rock adorned with smoldering torches. Your minimal attire was inapt in its frigid ambience, so you walked clung to yourself, arms wrapped around your bare shoulders to retain as much body heat as you possibly could.

“Are you sure this is gonna work?” Levi questioned Hange, keeping his attention forward. He maneuvered through the sharp turns of the labyrinth, which gave you the impression he’d had many experiences down in the cells with his comrades.

Hange released a tremulous sigh. “It doesn’t matter. We’re out of options.” Their nervous tone had them looking over their shoulder, reassuring you with a placid smile. The gesture was thoughtful, considering it had felt like you’d been a third party to their strategic and undivided conversation, but it did nothing to soothe your hesitancy.

Levi and Hange had tracked you down and invited you to meet with them, urgently explaining that they needed your help with debriefing Eren after his insubordination and his blitz on Marley. He’d refused to disclose any further information about his conduct to anyone in the military, not even Mikasa and Armin, his closest confidants. So Hange suggested bringing in someone unbiased, someone not in the military to ruse more details out of Eren.

You were their prime choice after hearing how you and Eren had met when the Anti-Marleyan volunteers had arrived on Paradis. You’d been one of the several civilian volunteers that had helped with affairs and military proceedings at the port. There you’d met Eren and quickly forged a friendship, although Eren’s friends could have sworn there was more between you two than you would have liked to admit.

You weren’t sure why you agreed to their proposal. Perhaps it was your readiness to help the military in their righteous endeavors, or maybe it was for a different reason. Perhaps you were driven by your own selfishness. You wanted to see Eren again, even under the strange circumstances.

Eren’s cell was at the end of the corridor. Once Hange let out an abrupt “we’re here” your lips carried an eager smile, but your expression quickly faltered once you stepped forward and caught a glimpse of him in his cell. Even with the arrival of visitors, Eren kept his head forward while he sat on his bed, one arm balanced on his knee.

“Nice of you guys to pay me another visit. I’m starting to think you just miss me.” Eren’s voice was deep. So much deeper than you remembered. How long had it been? You couldn’t do the math.

“You know you’re our favorite problem child.” Levi responded humorlessly. He stepped aside for Hange to slip the key in the lock, and with one turn the door was swung open. “Don’t look so agitated. We brought you a gift.”

You made no efforts to step out from behind Hange and Levi, but Eren could see you clearly enough. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but maybe it was foolish of you to envision Eren slipping out of his troubled temper the moment you two saw each other again. Realistically, it never would have been that easy. Eren’s face remained hard, if anything it looked like seeing you made him even angrier.

Hange’s hand found its way onto your shoulder, supportive, but reminding you of the reason why you were there.

You shuffled forward, heels loud against the granite cobblestone. Darkness swallowed you as you crept in further, and you flinched at the sound of the heavy door being shut and secured behind you. Looking over your shoulder, your heart began racing at the sight of solid metal bars separating you from the outside.

“Let’s give them some space,” Levi suggested, stepping back from the cell.

Hange’s mouth opened to protest, but they were discouraged by Levi’s strong grip on their ear.

“We’ll be waiting outside if you need us, Y/N.” Levi announced through Hange’s squalls of pain. He gave you a comforting nod before his eyes drifted to Eren, and his expression toughened again. “Don’t try anything. Screams echo down here.” He paused and then turned on his heel to leave, tugging Hange’s ear before releasing it from his hold.

You watched nervously as the two of them disappeared behind the wall.

Hange’s voice was heard again further down the hall. “That hurt a lot, you know.”

It was the last remark you heard from the pair before you heard the door to the corridor close, and then worry flooded your system like it was on an intravenous drip. The Eren you were convinced you were meeting was replaced by someone you weren’t sure you knew, and suddenly you felt unsafe being alone with him, but you held an obligation to Levi, Hange, and the rest of the military that needed the information they expected you to gather.

You walked slowly, feigning a gentle smile to masquerade as though you were happy. It hurt to know that it was something you had to fake. You sat at the edge of Eren’s bed and took note as he made no efforts to shift away. That had to have been a positive sign.

“You look different,” you chuckled. “I like it.” The weak blaze from the burning torches casted a menacing shadow onto Eren’s stolid face. In the half light of the cell he appeared much older. You reached a hand out to brush away the loose wisps of hair that decorated his face, but your movement was stopped by Eren’s unyielding grip around your wrist.

You jumped, surprised at his roughness.

“Do you honestly think you can outsmart me?” His words were bitter.

You looked at Eren with wide, stunned eyes before blinking quickly and trying to laugh off your clear fright.

“What are you talking about?” You brought your unrestrained hand to his jawline, fingers tracing the shape of his face until your touch met the broad span of his chest, and then you felt gutsy enough to slip your fingers under the fabric of his shirt. “You’ve been down here too long. Not everyone’s your enemy, Eren.”

Your fingers wandered far enough until they met the defined curve of his collarbone and the robust muscle of his chest, but the moment was fleeting, interrupted by the jolt of Eren shoving you backwards. You fell off the bed and teetered, momentarily losing your balance.

“It’s pitiful that you’re letting them use you as a pawn.” Eren’s words were sharp, but venom in his words were bearable compared to the resentment behind his eyes.

He knew. He was smart, you should have known he would catch on. You created distance between yourself and Eren.

“What? They’re not using me as a pawn.” Your voice was unsteady. “I promise Eren, I have no idea what you’re talking about, but you can help me understand if you just—”

“Then why are you here?” Eren rose from his bed to begin closing the distance you created, and your body began to quiver with dread.

You continued inching backwards until your tailbone collided with the edge of the cell’s sink, and you latched onto it with a sweaty grip.

“I’d rather be a pawn than be driven to do terrible things out of my own free will!” You had no choice but to admit what he already knew, and in seconds Eren’s hands were strung tightly around your wrists while he trapped your body against the sink.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized quickly, blinking back tears. You searched for something past his eyes, just a modicum of vulnerability to at least let you know there was a person behind the Eren you were speaking to, but the once fiery hues of green and blue in his irises were now frosted to an unremarkable grey. If it was true that eyes were the window to the soul, Eren was truly void.

“Please let go.” You pleaded and writhed in his grip. “Eren, seriously let go. You’re hurting me.”

“I don’t expect someone like you to understand.” Eren’s face showed nothing but malevolence.

“Someone like me?”

Eren pushed you back further into the sink until you bit back a shrill cry. “Someone that’s never had to make any sacrifices.”

Tear after tear did nothing to ease Eren’s painful hold, and as obvious as it was that he was hurting you, he remained unconcerned.

“Who are you?” You shook your head. “This isn’t the Eren I know.”

“Then your first mistake was thinking that you ever knew me.”

Eren’s words were somber, but he moved swiftly, and in seconds he tore you from the sink and had you pinned up against the wall, it’s jagged surface digging uncomfortably into your cheek. His mouth hovered by your ear, and when he spoke his breath fanned over the side of your face.

“Scream and I’ll break you.”

So you said nothing as Eren’s knee slid in between your legs, parting them far enough so that he could press his thigh to your cunt. His hands retired from holding your arms behind your back, and they traveled to your ass, riding up the fabric of your dress until it was on full display.

“This is nice.” His voice was condescending as tugged on your dress's short hem. “They did a good job at making you look—,” Eren delivered a sharp spank to the exposed skin then he ran his hand over the area searing with pain, “—like a whore.”

You took your bottom lip between your teeth to stifle a wail as Eren’s palm collided with your backside. He slipped a wicked finger under the thin material of your underwear and dipped his touch down between your thighs to stroke your folds through the cloth.

“Why are you shaking?” Eren used his free hand and slid it around your neck, gently at first, but you knew he wasn’t averse to tightening his grasp. “I thought this was all part of your plan.”

It had been, but your tremors weren’t the result of fear alone. You were scared out of your wits knowing that Eren had no reservations about harming you, and the thought shouldn’t have been as enticing as it was, but the combination of not knowing how he would choose to have his way with you had you feeling hot.

Your words were muffled through sobs, and your dazed mind didn’t make things easier, so all you could do was nod, which solicited a dry scoff from Eren. He hooked his finger around the fabric of your underwear and tugged it aside forcefully before parting your folds.

You released a feeble moan, and you could feel your knees buckling. If it weren’t for his tight grip, you were certain you would have collapsed. “Eren…”

“You’re wet already,” he said scornfully. Two fingers rubbed your clit mercilessly before slipping down to tease your entrance. “Acting scared meanwhile the whole time you were fucking dripping at the thought of me touching you like this. I don’t have to tell you how pathetic that is.”

Your breathing grew more labored at the anticipation of Eren’s long fingers entering you, pumping in and out of your hole while he ridiculed you for how desperately you tightened around his fingers, but you inhaled sharply when his touch disappeared.

Instead you felt Eren wipe your arousal on the inside of your thigh, and you had no time to question his behavior. A pitiful cry of surprise left your mouth as he grabbed the back of your neck, forcibly pulling you off the wall before throwing you in the direction of his bed.

“Move,” he commanded.

You staggered, looking back at him in alarm, but observed his directive without sacrificing any more time. Once you reached his bed, Eren followed closely behind, waiting until your back met the mattress to cage you in under his intimidating frame, and it then became clear that he held no other resolve than to use you for his own satisfaction. He disregarded your discernable ache and began unbuttoning his pants, pushing them down along with his briefs in one haste motion.

Eren’s large cock was already half-thickened with beads of precum glistening at its crown. He brought his palm to his mouth and spat in it before grabbing himself in the large curve of his hand to pump his length in preparation. He ran his tip up and down your folds, taking pleasure in the way you squirmed every time it prodded your tender clit, and then without warning he drove his cock into you, kindling a fervid cry that rose from the pit of your stomach and tore through your throat.

The sound echoed off the walls of the concrete box before ebbing into silence. Eren’s eyebrows creased in irritation while he looked down at you, and you suddenly harked back to his threat. You threw a quivering hand over your mouth, and shook your head, spluttering out a fragmented apology.

“I—Eren—I—I’m sorry…”

Yet he took no heed, and he began thrusting in and out of you, rocking back just to slam his hips into yours, over and over again until an uncomfortable pain grew from deep inside you and diffused over the span of your pelvis. All you could do was swallow your wails while your palm did it’s best efforts to smother your pleas. Fat tears ran down your cheeks and soaked into the sheets; your agony was hard to hide.

“Stop crying,” Eren barked through grunts. He pressed his hand to the hollow of your neck, fingers digging into your fleeting pulse. “You said yourself you have no problem being used.”

Sweaty fingers clutched his forearm, and you struggled against his dominance, breaths growing more and more shallow in an effort to conserve the air you were quickly losing.

He grabbed your wrists and held them together, pinning them to the mattress above your head with one hand.

“Maybe I should put a baby in you, then you’ll understand why what I’m doing is our last resort.”

Eren arched an eyebrow, but when you said nothing and only looked at him with glossy eyes a disdainful laugh slipped past his lips. He continued fucking himself deep into you, watching the way your body lurched with his movement, and then you felt his cock pulsate inside you.

It served as wordless notice that Eren was close, especially since he made no efforts to warn you. His eyes shut tightly, jaw hung slack while his groans intensified, and then he was cumming inside you, his hot seed flooding your walls as he claimed you.

You wound your eyes shut too, dark mascara-tainted tears staining your cheeks while you felt Eren thrusting through his high, making sure he had jettisoned every drop of his cum into you before he pulled himself out and wiped the creamy, white liquid that glazed his cock on the inside of your thigh.

“And when you report back, why don’t you tell them—” As if it were nothing he eased his weight off of you, taking a seat on the bed beside your shuddering body while he tucked himself back into his pants. “‘I let him fuck me pregnant because I’m a whore.’”

JUST LIKE HEAVEN (Pt.2)

Fred x female reader (mentions of George)

AN: it is 5am i cannot sleep i need help oh my god i am SWEATING, FRED WEASLEY WILL BE THE DEATH OF ME. he's a dom and i do not accept any kind of criticism. Okay but more seriously, thank you so much for the support for the 1st part! I truly appreciate it and I hope you'll like this one as much as the first one!

WARNINGS: smut smut smut smut and more smut... unprotected sex... and cussing

A few days had passed after your talk with Fred and George.

And still nothing had happened.

And you never thought you'd be so eager for one of them to reach out to you to fill his needs. But you weren't going to be the one to give in first.

And they knew what they did to you, because the first moment they saw you after the big talk they started teasing the shit out of you, and you were too easy to piss off, way too horny to have patience with them. Could be an accidental brush of George's hand on your thigh; Fred whispering things in your ear that weren't necessarily explicit; or again, George finding any kind of excuse to touch you, even the slightest... And that drove you crazy. And the fact that they exactly what they were doing, only made it worse, them making clear that they wanted you.

And today was the day that your patience was at its limits. So you were going to play it reverse on them, and make them suffer a little bit.

You decided to just play it cool, not to look to hard for them, and just let the big boys come to you, as they liked to call themselves. So when you least expected, you saw them appear with the biggest grins on their faces.

You were hanging out with Hermione and Luna at the library, and once again you were going crazy with your studies. You already have had 2 exams, and you could feel your brain slowly dying from all the information it was absorbing.

So obviously, when the twins saw you in such a frustrated state, they knew once again how to play their cards.

"Oh, darling... You look so stressed...", Fred came behind you, "and those shoulders! You're way too tense..."

He winked at his brother and put his hands on your shoulders, slowly massaging them.

Hermione looked at you with an interrogating gaze, not really sure if she should say something or not, to what you unconsciously shrugged your shoulders.

Fred dominantly put his hand on the back of your neck, applying a slight pressure to the sides of your neck, "Keep still, sweetheart..."

You could feel the blood rushing up to cheeks and to other unholy places on your body.

"What. The. Hell.", Hermione mouthed to you, Luna getting more and more confused about all the situation, since she was way too preoccupied reading her Astronomy book.

"I. DON'T. KNOW.", you mouthed back.

Fred continued to massage and apply pressure on your shoulder and the back of your neck, and you felt like you were going completely mad. And when you saw George glancing at his brother, you knew this was another one of their games; so why not join in?

You sighed, mouthed a quick "sorry" to the two girls and started playing.

"Freddie! Oh my god! You're so good!", you softly moaned, stretching your back and neck. You could catch a confused and nervous look on George's face, who was once again looking at his brother, expecting a reaction from him.

"Mmhhh... you like that?", he whispered down to your ear. Fuck, he was a way too good player.

You turned your face to his, just to be a few inches from his lips. "Yeah, I like it...", you said, trying to sound convincing; when you knew that you were affected by him to your bloody core.

You could feel his breath shake as he straighten up, leaving a satisfied smile on your face.

"And what about you, Georgie?", you asked, looking at him with puppy eyes, "How's my favorite Weasley?"

"I'm fine...", he said, smirking, "Why? You missed me, darling?"

You couldn't see any type of nervousness in him, he never answered wrong, always continuing the game.

Not wanting to leave poor Hermione and Luna alone, you decided after a while to semi ignore the twins, and go back to your conversation with the girls, including the boys in from time to time, and when you could feel Fred being totally distracted, you made your killer move.

"OH! I'm so sorry, Fred!", you said, looking how your ink pot just had fallen on his lap.

"Damn it!"

Everybody had taken a few steps back, not wanting to have ink all over them, and when Hermione got up to go for some tissues, you got on your knees and started wiping Fred's thigh with your robes. Fortunately you knew a spell that would make these stains go away, otherwise you wouldn't have sacrificed yourself like that.

The sight of your on your knees, a hand on his upper thigh and the other one wiping the ink stains that were dangerously close to his dick, almost made him cum in his pants. He had spent too much time without doing anything and you being you didn't made it better. You've always drove him completely mad, and the fact that you've actually accorded to be shared between him and his brother was all he could have ever asked for.

He dominantly grabbed your hand, "Bloody hell, Y/N! Stop!", he groaned between his teeth, making sure no one else but you could hear him.

"What's wrong?", you asked innocently, looking up at him through your lashes.

"Shit", he groaned.

He quickly got up, took his brother by the arm and left the library.

"Oh... Where did they go?", Hermione asked with the tissues in her hand.

"I don't know...", you couldn't help but smile victoriously. You've beaten Fred Weasley at his own game. You've put down one of the two twins. You still had to win against George, and from what you've been observing, he'd be the harder one to play against; fooling everybody with his innocent looks.

"Am I right saying that there was completely an unsolved tension in here for a second?", Luna asks.

"Y/N, what the hell was all this?!", Hermione says, clearly aware of what's happening.

"It's just a game! Nothing harmful! Don't worry", you smile, blushing.

"I don't know what kind of games you're playing with them but when I saw Fred going through that door he looked like he could spit fire...", Hermione points out, "I just hope you know what you're doing..."

"I do, Mione... I've talk to them..."

"What do you mean you've talked to them?", Luna asks, curious.

"Oops...", you say as you start getting up and taking your books with you, earning a gasp and shocked laugh from both of them. You winked at the girls and got out of the library.

There wasn't a lot of students out in the corridors at this time of the evening. It was almost bed time so everybody was either in their common rooms or still at the library, just like Hermione and Luna.

So when you felt a hand on the back of your neck again, you felt relief that no one was there.

"Good night, Freddie...", you smiled, his hand adding pressure.

"I hate you", he says between his teeth.

"Oh... Why is that?", you pout. If he'd thought he was the only one able to play this game, he was damn wrong.

"Don't play innocent here, you knew what you were doing"

"Just how you knew what you were doing to me for the past days. Both you and your brother. Am I wrong?", you tried turning your head, but his grip on your neck didn't let you, "Didn't your mother tell you to not play with your food, Freddie?"

The smirk you had on your face the second you pronounced these words could have killed Fred in an instant. It was the weirdest, yet most erotic, thing a girl have ever said to him, and he felt those words resonate through his whole body, specially under his pants.

"Fuck...", he groaned. He grabbed your arm and started leading you. You didn't knew where but you wanted to follow him so bad right now, nothing could have stopped you. You wanted him and you knew the feeling was reciprocal.

You turned a corner and arrived at the second-floor girl's bathroom. Fred quickly opened the door, making sure no one saw them go in and the second the door closed, his pressed his lips against yours. Almost with anger. He was so eager to kiss you...

Neither of you took the time to completely undress the other, you just stayed there, him pressing his body on yours, devouring your mouth.

Without breaking the kiss, he started leading you to the sinks, where he lifted you and sat you. Your skirt almost lifted to your waist and his hands fiercely groping your thighs.

"How DARE you come snog in MY bathroom?!", a whining voice made you both jump, trying to regain your breath.

"Mimi!", Fred breathed out, "Sorry! W-we..."

"Oh... Hi, Frederick...", Moaning Myrtle slowly approached Fred, not even paying attention to you, "You're looking good tonight...", she says.

"You too, Mimi, but we're kind in the middle of something right now...", he says, awkwardly.

"Oh... I see that...", she says, glaring at you in anger.

"Hi, Myrtle..."

"Come on Myrtle, please... I promise to make Harry come visit you tomorrow, but please, please, let us stay here...", he pleaded. You could hear the desperation in his voice and that only turned you on even more.

Moaning Myrtle was taking his proposal in consideration, and quickly ended up agreeing. "Tell him I want to see him in that grey shirt he always wears, he looks so good in it...", she says before completely disappearing in the darkness of the bathroom.

"Wow... So Moaning Myrtle too, huh?", you teased Fred.

"Yeah, yeah, don't start", he quickly cupped your face with one hand and started kissing you again, this time with more passion, more fire. He was kissing you as his life depended on it, his hands always groping your skin; your thighs, your stomach, your waist... He was like an animal, so eager and needy. And you loved every bit of it.

Fred pulled out from your lips and started going down, kissing your jaw... You neck... Licking it and making sure to leave at least two or three visible marks for him to admire the next day. You moaned when he started kissing that sweet spot of you, just behind your ear, as he started slightly pulling your hair. That combination would be the death of you.

"Fuck, Fred...", you moaned in his ear. He raised his head and took a second to finally admire your messed up state, which only made him want to go rough on you.

He leaned in again and started kissing you while unbuttoning your white shirt, not losing a single second. Just as he kept unbuttoning it, he started kissing your chest until it was completely at sight. He groaned to himself when he saw the black lace bra you were wearing that day.

This time, you were the one to not lose time. The second your blouse was unbuttoned, you started attacking his pants, taking of his belt and lowering it a little so you could play with the elastic of his boxers.

"Wait...", he suddenly stopped.

"What? What are you- FUCK!", you loudly moaned as you saw him going down on his knees before you and taking your clit in his mouth. Your hands directly went to his hair, pulling it gently.

You could have come by the simple sight of what was happening, Fred on his knees eating you out, his hair all messy and his arms strongly around your thighs.

"Oh my-... Yes, just like that", you moaned again, making Fred chuckle against you, sending vibrations through you.

He started placing little kisses and kitten licks all over your pussy, licking every inch of it, making it his.

"If you keep... FUCK! Doing this... I'm going to cum... Oh my god, Fred..."

He chuckled again and stopped his movements to look up at you. Fuck, you were looking so pretty, already all fucked up.

He got up, never breaking eye contact with you. He was literally towering you, you sitting on the small sink, your legs around his waist.

He was going to start kissing you again when you stopped him, putting your soft hand on his clothed chest.

"Wait... My turn...", you seductively said, slowly kneeling.

He instantly knew what you were about to do, so he helped you lowered his pants down a little.

"Bloody hell, you're so big...", you whispered.

"Well, wait are you waiting for?", he said, lifting up your chin.

Your mouth instantly started drooling the moment you took him in your mouth. You slowly lowered your head down his shaft, taking all you could of him in your mouth, and then up again.

You started licking his tip and his sides, trying to get it as wet as you could.

"Y/N... Fuck... You're so good at this...", you felt his body lean against the sink you were previously sitting on, and saw his hand grab the edge of it to gain support. "Keep going please, keep going..."

You did as he pleaded. You slowly started to bob your head up and down his dick, both of you making the most sinful sounds. You could feel him throb in your mouth as your lowered your head more and more, and you loved it.

Suddenly, he grabs you by the hair and lifts you up again, helping you sit on the sink again.

"Legs up for me, will you sweetheart?", he says, caressing your inner thighs.

"If you ask so nicely...", and you lifted your legs to wrap them around his waist.

Fred sucked his thumb and lowered it to your clit, drawing figures eight on it, slowly.

"Mmmhhh...", you moaned, throwing your head back.

"Are you ready?", he asks, his thumb still on your clit.

"Yes", you smiled back at him, locking eyes with him and not breaking contact when he entirely slid into you.

"Merlin, you're so tight...", Fred moaned in the crook of your neck.

You grab him by the shoulders and let him start thrusting in and out of you; first at an awful slow pace, making him bite your neck.

"Come on, darling...", you encouraged him. And with that, as if something lightened up inside him, he straightened himself, towering over you again, and roughly putting one of his hands around your neck and the other one around your thigh. That made him gain stability, so he started thrusting deeper and harder tan before.

"YES! Oh my god... Yes...", you put your forehead against his and closed your eyes shut, lost in the feeling.

"Yeah... Like that...", he says, going even faster, hitting that special spot of yours that made you almost scream. "That's it, darling... Show me where I am..."

You clumsily took his hand and tried to find on your lower abdomen the spot that Fred was hitting so you could show him how deep he was buried in you.

"Oohh, yes... There it is...", he says, feeling his tip brushing against his hand. He applied more pressure to your abdomen, making his dick hit that spot again and again.

"FUCKKKKK! YES!", you screamed, eyes almost rolling back in your head.

"Look at me, sweetheart, look at me...", Fred took your face and started to thrust deeper and harder just to watch your reaction, to which he wasn't disappointed. Your swollen lips, messy hair and the spots he had been leaving along your neck and chest were the most beautiful view ever.

He started massaging your breast through your bra as he once again increased his speed.

All you could do was messily breathe and loudly moan as he trusted in and out of you. He was so big. Stretching you so good. And the fact that he was being so rough yet so gentle with you was insane.

Once again he brought his hand to your clit, slowly massaging it and making you moan even louder.

"Ssshhhh... Sweetheart, do I have to remind you how to be quiet?", he says, his hand against your mouth.

You remembered the moment he first pressed his big hand on your mouth, all the thoughts that were crossing your mind and all the fantasies you've created because of that specific moment, and now all of them where becoming reality.

"Do I reckon you like my hand on you like this, right?", he smiled, thrusting deeper.

Your screams were now muffled by his hand, but he could see your eyes starting to water, which only made him increase the pace.

You were a moaning mess, your nails going to his back, his arms and chest, also leaving your little marks.

"Come on, I want you to see yourself when you cum...", he says before slipping out of you and turning you, now facing the mirror.

He put his hand where it belonged: your neck. And started to kiss you again, looking at you through the mirror's reflection.

With no previous notice, he slammed into you from behind, making your face contort in pleasure.

"Oh my god...", you say, trying to grab the edge of the sink.

He pulled your hair again, leaning your head back on his chest.

"Look at you...", he says, "so fucking... pretty..."

He brought his free hand to your clit again, the new angle making it easier for him to massage it in the correct way.

That made you scream again, feeling your legs fail you.

"I've got you, darling... Come on...", he whispered, tightly holding on to you.

He continued his relentless attack on your pussy and clit, making the pleasure almost unbearable for you.

"F-Fred... I-I'm c-cumming... SHIT!"

He smirked at your reflection and didn't stop his thrusting until he felt your inner walls tightly close again his cock. The feeling of you cumming with him inside you made it impossible for him to hold any longer, so as he was helping you riding your orgasm, he chased his own one, both of you moaning loudly in the other's ears and clinging to each other as your lives depended on it.

He stayed inside you a few more seconds, trying to regain his breath and strength.

"I think that deserves a big high five...", you say, lazily raising your hand.

He weakly moaned, trying to high five you, but terribly failed.

He finally got the strength to pull out of you with a hiss, slowly pulling his dick out and letting a pool of both of your fluids form in the sink.

"Thank you", he breathed out, kissing your forehead.

"No! Thank you!"

"I knew this was a good idea!", he says, proud of him.

"The most brilliant idea you've ever had...", you say, helping him putting his belt back on.

"What are you doing?", he asks.

"That, my friend, is a souvenir...", you laughed, patting the panties you just put in his pocket.

"Oh, you're a nasty one... Very, very nasty...", he smirks.

"You have no idea...", you say, kissing his neck again. "Let's go, before the others start asking too many questions"

"We're definitely doing that again, I hope you know that...", he says, entering the Gryffindor common room.

"Isn't that why we've talked about it, you git?" you laughed.

"Hey, where were you two?", Hermione asks, "We've been waiting for you for almost two hours!"

"Oh, we just quickly went to visit Moaning Myrtle...", you say, eyeing how George was looking at the marks on your neck, "Harry by the way, she wants you there tomorrow with your grey shirt. No discussion!"

You hear Harry groan and throw his head in his hands, "Why? Why did you this to me? Why do you hate me so much!?!"

"Come on, she's not that bad...", you say, sitting next to George.

"How does she even know I have that shirt?!", he starts whining, but soon enough, your attention was turned to George, who was playing with the back of your skirt.

"Looking good...", he whispered, "Who would have thought you're such a dirty player?"

"You have no idea...", you smirked.

He looked at you and chuckled, "You'll show me soon enough...", he said, discretely placing his hand on your inner thigh.

You looked up trying to see if anyone was looking at you, but for your luck, they were too busy hearing Harry whine about Myrtle. And then, you crossed Fred's gaze. He winked at you and raised to you his plastic bottle and drank a sip, that making George chuckle again.

For Goddrick's sake... These two were going to drive you completely mad...

comfort

Peter just wants to lay down with you but there's something that kinda makes him uncomfortable and you try to confront him about it...

Pairing: Peter Parker x fem!reader

Status: dating

Warning: mentions of bra's

Y/n's POV

I was laying on peters bed liking the tiktoks that I thought were funny and saving the ones I wanna do for later when Peter suddenly opens the door mumbling a few incoherent words then I can tell he sensed me since he looked up so quickly, eyes wide open and a small smile, getting bigger by the second, appeared on his lips.

"Babyyyyyy" he quickly took his shoes and jacket off and flopped on the bed his head resting on my stomach while his arms hugged my lower belly.

"Oof" I laughed since he basically jumped on me, he looked up resting his chin on my stomach

"I'm sorry did I hurt you y/n/n?" He whispered voice as soft as butter

"No it didn't hurt, it was just unexpected" I smiled playing with his soft hair "come closer, I wanna hug you" I made grabby hands and he just laughed, resting his head on my chest now, hugging my waist his legs were between mine so I crossed them around his middle and wrapped my arms around his neck kissing his head once in a while

He shifted a couple of times, making me think he's just trying to get comfortable so I ignored it, but he shifted again and silently huffed. He gave in for a few minutes then lifted his head up again to peck my lips and lay next to me.

I got very confused coz usually I'd have to make him move but he's never done this before, it made me kinda sad to be honest. Did I do something wrong? Omg do I smell bad? Does my shirt smell bad?

At first I didn't say anything since he looked unbothered and I was anything but that, I mean if you think about it, would you like your boyfriend to randomly stop cuddling you for no reason and just lay beside you? Is he mad at me?

Our cuddles would last for hours! And this one didn't even last for 10 minutes! I turned around seeing him looking at his phone with his left hand and his other is draped around my waist

"So what do you wanna order, babe?" He looked up his brown eyes hopeful for food

"Oh uh" so he's not mad at me? "W-Whatever you w-want" I silently cursed at myself for being nervous, now he'll get suspicious. And in fact he did.

"Oookay? You okay bubba?" He tilted his head? Caressing my cheek for a moment before setting his gaze on his phone again to order some food

"Yeah yeah I'm fine, it's jus- nothing no I'm fine" He nodded slowly not really convinced but let it go, for now. He laid on his side, his right hand supporting his body, leaned in and kissed me. As a way to make sure that I'm not mad at him or anything. I obviously kissed back not wanting to seem more suspicious than I already was.

He pulled away smiling, his eyes adoring my face. I would be a psycho if I didn't smile from that look.

"Ok well I'll go set up the ingredients so we can make brownies after, sounds good?" I only nodded still smiling. But that didn't convince him so he started kissing my forehead down to my nose to my lips a couple times making me laugh.

"Ok ok! We're gonna make brownies" i verbally agreed this time. He nodded happily and left the room, all the doubt I had were long gone.

The food arrived to our luck and we stuffed our face with the delicious hot meal, Peter also got my favorite drink AND were about to make brownies so to say I was happy was an understatement.

"OOOH GIRL YOU'RE SHINING" I was mixing the brownie batter swaying my hips to the song 'classic' by MKTO, while Peter took my spatula and used it as a microphone running around the kitchen singing his heart out

"LIKE THE FIFTH AVENUE DIAMONDDD" he pointed at me and I laughed "AND THEY DONT MAKE YOU LIKE THEY USED TO, YOURE NEVER GOING OUT OF STYLEEE" he shook his head as if he's confirming the lyrics and we continued on well, I continued on finishing the brownies

but Peter did make an effort, he sprayed the pan and sprinkled the chocolate chips. And he said and I quote he did "the most important parts for making a brownie"

"I WANNA THRILL YOU LIKE MICHEAL" he made the thriller dance moves while sprinkling the chocolate chips "I WANNA KISS YOU LIKE PRINCE" he turned around trapping me between him and the counter behind me, grabbed me by the back of my neck and kissed me until the chorus came in. And i couldn't contain my laughter by the sudden energy my boyfriend got from the food.

"YOURE OVER MY HEAD, IM OUTTA MY MIND. THINKIN' I WAS BORN AT THE WRONG TIME" he suddenly pulled away belting the rest of the song "BABY YOURE SO CLASSIC" we both sung together after he stopped me from putting the pan in the oven claiming its 'too dangerous' and he doesn't want me to get hurt, i mean can you blame him? I'm a totally clutz.

"Ok so why don't we watch something while we're waiting for the brownies?" He suggested putting on the timer.

"Sure" I suddenly jumped on his back (but he still caught me) waiting for him to go to the living room. He laughed at the sudden clinginess (he lovedddd it) and walked out of the kitchen. "TO INFINITY AND BEYONDDDD" he shouted sprinting to the living room. And I squealed from the sudden movement.

"Take the remote, babe" he turned so I can take the remote from the shelf.

"Got it" then flopped us on the couch, causing us to laughed. The jump made me cuddle him as the big spoon while his back rested in my front as the little spoon. At first everything was okay, the first 10 minutes of our favorite show was watched at peace but then the shifting began again. Am I making him uncomfortable?

"Babe, what's wrong? You've been doing this everytime we're cuddling today?" I asked him, so done with the feeling I'm getting.

"Uhhh" but to my luck...

*dinggg*

the oven dinged alerting us that the brownies' finished "oh looks like our brownies are done I-I-I'll go get them!" He rushed to the kitchen and I huffed in annoyance.

The rest of the night went smoothly, but I still had the pang of guilt in my heart. I wanted to know what wrong. so enough is enough, I turned my attention away from series to my boyfriend.

"Pete?" He somehow sensed the hurt in my voice and immediately turned to my side cupping my cheeks

"Baby what wrong?" His eyes scanned my face

"N-Nothing it's just- am I uncomfortable?" I didn't know what to say but hopefully he got the message

"W-what? Why would you say that?" The tv was long gone now he caressed my checks with his thumb trying to soothe the tension

"Well, everytime we've been cuddling you'd shift away, I don't wanna sound clingy or anything but y-you've never done that before" suddenly feeling ashamed and embarrassed by question, I couldn't even look at him in the eye. His eyes widened in shock and his face was full of guilt

"Baby it's nothing I swear, you did nothing wrong. He pulled me in so I could sit on his lap, his hands caressed my jaw slightly admiring my features.

"Then what happened?" My voice croaked not believing him by the second.

"Well it's jus-" his cheeks suddenly became darker, the heat risen to the tip of his ears and on his neck. I was confused to why he suddenly got all flustered.

"Pete it's fine, you can tell me" I rested my forearm on his shoulders slightly touching the small hairs that are on the nape of his neck.

"N-no it's just uh ur b-bra is uncomfortable so I just decided to sleep next to y-you inste-ad" he squeaked out, eyes closing from embarrassment. Wait- what?

"What?" A small smile crept on my face, and my mind suddenly pieced everything together, the material of my shirt is rather thin, he hugged my stomach first then I told him to come closer, he shifted a couple times due to the wiring! Oh my god how could I be so stupid?

"Y-Your b-bra, there's nothing wrong with it and I don't want you to feel uncomfortable or anything it's just, I didn't know they put metal on a piece of clothing?" He tilted his head confused.

"Yeah" I nodded laughing "well there's like a wiring around my chest like under my boobs" I showed him the area from his shirt. And I could tell he got even more flustered when I said 'boobs' coz his posture immediately stiffened again.

"We can talk about it pete it's fine, it's normal to communicate in what make you uncomfortable, in fact it's important!" I assured him

"Well I just thought you'd get more comfortable if you were wearing it and if I say something you'd have to take it off or something" he looked down at his lap, I could not believe this boy, he'd think I'd purposely wear a bra even if I didn't have to?

"Believe me, if I didn't have to wear this 'thing' I wouldn't, it's hurts so much at the end of the day since the wiring basically suffocates you" his eyes shot up immediately when he heard 'hurt' and tilted his head.

"Then why would you wear it if it hurts you?" Now it was my turn to get flustered

"Uhh well I just thought maybe you'd get uncomfortable" I nervously laughed

"No no Baby I want you to be nothing but comfortable around me, you don't have to wear you're bra infront of me or when we're hanging out. I looked at him lovingly, proud of how he handled the situation, respectfully and kindly. I leaned in so our lips could briefly touch and mumbled a

"Thanks Pete"

"You're welcome" he replied "now please kiss me" I laughed at his eagerness but Peter didn't have any of it and smashed our lips together.

"Wanna get ready for bed?" He slowly pulled away but right after the words left his mouth he kissed me again

"Yes" we finally pulled away, for real this time. And went or his bedroom. I was already wearing sweats and the thin t-shirt so I was ready to go. Peter came out of the bathroom now in his flannel sweats and a grey t-shirt flopping on the bed and taking me with him. I squealed trying to stop the fall but obviously failing. I stood up again trying to find my bag causing Peter to whine.

"Baaaaabe where are you going?" He whined

"Taking off my bra so we can cuddle, I missed our cuddles since you couldn't give me any today" I fake pouted, taking the bra off and putting it in my backpack. Peter cheeks turned red again turning his head immediately after looking at my laced black bra.

"You okay there hun?" I smirked at his flustered state

"Y-yeah everything's great" he shook his head and grabbed me again, turning us around so he can lay on my stomach

"Better?" I whispered my hands immediately going to his luscious curls.

"Much" he kissed the exposed part of my stomach and covered both of our bodies with his duvet. "I love you" he closed his eyes sighing in content

"I love you too" I replied although I'm not sure he listened since immediately after he talked I heard little snores from him. Finally closing my eyes feeling nothing, but pure happiness.

Idk what this is but I thought of it yesterday and decided to try and make it come to life 😂 tell me ur thoughts! And if u have any requests my inbox is always open :)

Have a wonderful morning/afternoon/evening/night!

-quacksonlover

heyyyy coming in a few days early with the “expression” prompt for @aspecarchivesweek! just a lil something about jon wearing a shirt he doesn’t like. enjoy!

(also on ao3)

_______________

All of Jon’s clothes are in greyscale.

Well, this isn’t entirely true—some are a very light tan, or a dingy brown. One mothbitten vest is a glaring 70’s orange that Jon deeply dislikes, so it stays at the back of his closet. These are the clothes he inherited from his parents and possibly also his grandparents, which he can’t bring himself to throw away. The rest, however, strictly range from white to black, practical to a fault.

Jon has a working theory that he may be the first person in history with an allergy to clothing stores. Entering one instantly stresses him out, and all he wants is to get what he came for and get out as quickly as possible. Figuring out how to match colors, as he eventually learns by the time he’s in uni, is a waste of time and consideration. Much easier and simpler to only buy clothes in shades that match no matter how you swap them out.

Of course, there are exceptions, and as life goes on in its chaotic and unaccountable way, he acquires items of clothing he wouldn’t otherwise have picked for himself. A colorful sweater from Georgie as a birthday gift. A free T-shirt from a uni event. He keeps these things for their sentimental value, but rarely wears them out of the house.

However, sometimes life is not only chaotic but also utterly unmanageable. And sometimes Jon finds himself with a promotion he doesn’t really know what to do with, an entire archive to organize, and less time than he’s ever had to do laundry.

And, well. One has to wear something to work, doesn’t one.

This is what Jon keeps telling himself as he miserably pulls on the last clean shirt left in his flat. He should know; he’s checked four times, and if he checks a fifth he’ll be late for work. He gives himself a glance in the small, dirty mirror stuck to the inside of his closet door, and looks away almost immediately, strangely embarrassed.

It’s just a long-sleeved, striped T-shirt, which is maybe a bit unprofessional for the workplace, but it’s not as though anybody minds how the people who work in the basement dress. The problem comes from its colors. Well, one of its colors. Three of them—black, grey, white—are perfectly suitable for Jon. But following those, at the bottom of the shirt, is a glaring, bright violet.

The shirt is a casualty of the aforementioned chaos of life. A friend of an acquaintance had given it to Jon to wear to a pride parade several years back, which he had ended up skipping out on anyway. Since then the shirt had been kept out of sight and mind, packed into the back of Jon’s closet for a rainy day that he’d never really expected to arrive.

There’s a first time for everything, Jon thinks, almost reflexively. The words don’t mean much to him, philosophically speaking, but they are a steadying mantra nonetheless. He goes to pull on his coat; by some measure of luck, it’s a cold day out. He plans not to take it off again until he’s safely back in his flat that night.

The trouble is, of course, that wearing one’s coat while making tea in the break room in an adequately-heated basement looks rather conspicuous to one’s coworkers, and leads to questions.

“You feeling alright, boss?” Tim asks, as he retrieves his bagged lunch from the fridge.

“Yes,” Jon says, stiffly. “Perfectly fine. I’m just cold.”

Sasha, who has followed Tim in, says, “Not sick, I hope.”

“I’m fine, don’t worry,” Jon says again, though he is beginning to feel a bit overheated. “It’s just cold in here. You don’t feel cold?”

Tim and Sasha shake their heads, looking concerned.

“I’m fine,” Jon says for the third time in thirty seconds, and promptly flees the break room.

By late afternoon, Jon is sweltering, and has no choice but to take off the coat. He’s careful to close his office door before he does so, resolving to put it back on if he needs to be seen by anyone for the rest of the day.

Though the garish violet stripe in his periphery is distracting at first, he loses himself in his work soon enough, spending an hour or two tearing through a stack of statements that are, by and large, utter nonsense.

He loses himself in his work so much, in fact, that when there’s a knock at his office door, he says “Come in,” without thinking.

“Hey, Jon,” says Tim as he enters, “d’you have a copy of statement zero-one-three-two . . .”

Tim’s voice drifts off, and Jon looks up, irritated. “Zero-one-three-two-what?”

Tim’s staring at him, an eager expression on his face, and Jon’s stomach goes cold. He looks down at the shirt, remembering, and stops himself from groaning. If he doesn’t react, maybe Tim will leave it alone. “What number were you looking for, Tim?” he says instead, very calmly and professionally.

But of course it doesn’t work. Tim’s face breaks into a smile, and he gives Jon a big, showy once-over. Jon rolls his eyes even before the words are out of Tim’s mouth. “Looking good, boss.”

“Tim, I have even less patience for sarcasm than usual, so if you could please—”

“Who said anything about sarcasm? You look good! Casual, ah, Tuesday suits you, Jon.”

Jon puts his elbows up on his desk and massages his temples. “I ran out of laundry.”

“Ah, been there.” Tim seems to have taken Jon’s resignation as an invitation, because he helps himself to the chair opposite Jon’s desk. “Wouldn’t have pegged you for the pride flag type, though. Don’t even think I’ve seen you with laptop stickers.”

“No,” Jon says, “I’m not. Not usually. This is just the only thing I had lying around. It’s from years ago, I never wear it.”

“Aw.” Tim genuinely looks disappointed. Jon wonders if perhaps he’s losing what remains of his tenuous ability to read people. “That’s a shame. You look good in purple.”

Jon has reached a point in his life, he’s fairly certain, where he ought to have heard such a comment before, or at least know the proper response. In actuality, he cannot recall a single instance of someone in his adult life complimenting his choice of fashion. He looks down at the shirt again. It’s the same as it was before: too-bright and obvious. He highly doubts it could look good on him in any shape or form. “Um. Thank you?” he says, sounding more bewildered than grateful.

“Really! It, like, brings out your eyes, or something. I dunno, but I think it’s nice on you. Not sure why you went through all the trouble to hide it all day.”

Jon shifts in his chair. “It’s . . . I mean, it’s very loud, isn’t it. And obvious. It’ll just attract attention.”

Tim looks at him for a moment or two. “Jon,” he says, “is this just about the shirt? Or is it also about the shirt?”

“That makes no sense, Tim.”

“You know what I mean.”

Jon, admittedly, does. One of the things he appreciates most about Tim is that they can be honest with one another, if only after some customary back-and-forth. He sighs deeply. “It’s—it’s just . . . a lot. I know it isn’t, really, in the grand scheme, it’s just you and Sasha, a-and Martin, too, I suppose. And it’s London, no one’s going to—it’s safe. I know that. B-But it’s a lot, being seen with everything—out in the open. By strangers. To know that they know. And even if they don’t know, they’ll . . . they’ll probably be able to guess.” He stares down at the scratched, cheap wood of his desk. Long ago, someone had carved a tiny pentagram on the lip of it. If Jon’s sense of humor weren’t buried under three layers of anxiety at the moment, he’d probably find it funny. “And I know it’s childish, to care what a bunch of strangers would think. But I can’t . . . I can’t stop thinking about it. I can’t just let it go.”

There’s a painfully long pause before Tim speaks up again.

“Well, I’ve got good news for you, Jon.”

Jon looks up at him warily, and finds that Tim is smiling at him. “What?”

He points at Jon’s coat where it hangs off the back of his chair. “You can put that back on.”

Jon blinks at him.

“At five,” Tim goes on, “you can put your coat back on, button it up, and walk out of here, and when you get back to your flat, Jon, you can do your bloody laundry. And you never have to wear that shirt ever again. Problem solved.”

“But . . .” Jon’s voice peters out before he can come up with a real protest.

“If wearing pride colors makes you feel like that,” Tim says, his voice gentler, “then don’t wear them. Simple as that. Not everybody’s got to carry a flag twenty-four-seven. Or ever. Doesn’t make you any less queer. Hell, even I take the pins off my bag sometimes.” Tim squints into the middle distance, muttering, “I can never seem to get the laptop stickers off, though.”

“But—what about what you said about me wearing purple?” He’s grasping at straws, he knows, but Tim’s argument is quite good. And the thought of never wearing this particular shirt again does sound rather appealing.

“So wear an aubergine button-down every once in a while!” Tim shrugs. “Or don’t! It’s none of my business.” He tilts his head to the side. “Actually, please do wear an aubergine button-down sometime. You’d turn some heads down here.” He pauses. “Figuratively, I mean. I’m sure everyone would be very respectful.”

Jon lets out a startled laugh. “Alright,” he says, feeling lighter. He runs a hand through his hair. “Maybe, sometime, I’ll . . . I���ll try it.”

“I know you like your blacks and whites, Jon,” Tim says, “and I’m not here to tell you how to dress. But if you ever need advice, or want to borrow a colorful, strictly nondenominational shirt . . .” He points both thumbs at himself. “I’m your guy.”

“Okay,” Jon says, and is surprised to find that, in this one, specific case, he is.

“And,” Tim adds, pointing a professorial finger in the air, “it’s not childish to care about what other people think of you. Pretty sure it’s the most universal thing there is. Welcome to the human race, Jon. You’re among us peons, now.”

Jon raises an eyebrow. “How unfortunate,” he says, drily, and Tim cackles.

Jon wears his coat home, keeping it carefully buttoned, and when he gets back to his flat he tosses the shirt into the back of his closet from whence it came. He’s not going to throw it away altogether, of course. It has sentimental value. Someday, maybe, he’ll dig it back up, if only just to look at.

For now, Jon does his bloody laundry.

Soul ties - Part 4 (Bucky Barnes au)

“And if you're feeling lonely you should tell me

Before this ends up as another memory”

A week. You'd met Bucky a week earlier and still hadn't forgotten the feeling of his arm on your back, the deepness of his voice and the blue of his eyes. How could you? You were trying to spend as much time with Darren as you could, but he was hardly ever home.  When he wasn't working, he was meeting one friend or another to watch a baseball game. You had been married for one week, and this was your seventh day alone in your apartment.

The place you and Darren lived in was small and you had given your best to make it feel like a welcoming home. From green plants to scented candles and beautiful artwork, everything was meant to make any visitor feel welcomed and cozy. Your favourite thing was obviously the couch and beanbag chairs : they were all dark grey and the fabric gave them the impression of a cloud. Not that it mattered to your husband, though... You sighed as you got up from your couch and put your coffee cup on the kitchen counter. Taking out your phone out of your back pocket, you stopped for a moment, biting your cheek. Should you...call him? No. It was too soon and you  hadn't  heard from him at all since the wedding. Maybe it wasn't a good idea. Scratch that: it was probably a terrible idea.  You decided to call Steve instead, hoping he would have some work for you at the compound. You  had already helped out a lot, especially in terms of scientific development. You and Bruce Banner were currently working on a tissue-repairing  technology. It was a work in progress and Banner didn't have much time for it, but you always tried to make yourself useful: there was always an agent who needed a wound to be stitched.

"Y/n? Hi! How's the married life going?" Your heart warmed up as soon as you heard Steve's voice on the phone.

"Hi, uh... Good, thanks. Do you need my help at the compound?" you asked.

"No, not really. I mean, you always find ways to help, of course, but we thought you'd like a week or two, you know." He paused. "Don't you have a honeymoon to go to?"

"Darren's too busy with work. He said we'd go when he gets a week off, which is...not right now. So do you need me there?"

Your friend took a moment to answer. "Yeah, we always need you. Do you want me to send a car?"

"Yeah, Darren took ours and I don't think a taxi can take me there. Thanks, Stevie! See you soon."

"Okay, the car will be at your place in an hour. See ya!"

Hanging up the phone, you already felt better than five minutes earlier. Going to the compound meant working, for sure, but it also meant you got to see and spend time with Wanda, joke around with Sam or just chit chat with Bruce. You could say the compound was like your second home, now.  After a quick shower and changing into some jeans and t-shirt, you deemed yourself ready to go and packed your backpack – no, a handbag was not enough to carry your multiple notebooks and pens.

You scrolled on your phone to make time pass faster and when the bell rang, you furrowed your brows. Drivers usually honked and didn't bother ringing the doorbell. You went to the interphone and pressed the speaker.

"Who's there?"

You heard what sounded like the end of a throat-clearing noise. "It's Bucky. Steve asked me to pick you up."

Your lips froze and your brain stopped functioning correctly for a second. Who? What? Why?

"I'll be down in a sec," you ended up saying, acting as composed as possible.

'Damn you, Steve.' You did want to see Bucky, but time to prepare for the occasion would've been better. Last time he saw you, you were wearing a pretty dress and your hair was done and...shit. You quickly ran your brush through your hair, hoping it would make it better, before thinking of how ridiculous you sounded: why would Bucky care about how you looked, and – more importantly – why would you ?

When you found yourself down in the entrance hall, you caught a glimpse of Bucky through the glazed door. He seemed to be carrying something. You opened the door and greeted him with  a smile.

"I didn't know you'd be the one coming,"  you noted, trying to figure out whether he enjoyed being here or not.

He shrugged and looked at the floor.  "Steve apparently had no one available so...he asked me. Ready?" He handed you what he'd be holding the whole time and...

"A helmet? Why would I- Oh. You don't have a car,  do you?"

Bucky let out a laugh. As brief as it was, you couldn't help but swoon. You looked up and smiled back. "What's so funny?"

"You don't like bikes?" he asked, raising a brow.

"No, I just... They're not as safe as a car. "

"It's safe with me, I promise. Come."

You followed him with a grin as he placed his helmet over his long hair and you tried to strap yours on, fiddling with your fingers.

"Let me help." You almost stopped breathing when his fingers brushed against your chin as he attached the helmet's straps. "Okay, we  should go now."

You nodded and sat behind him, unsure of where to place your arms. "Hum..."

Bucky gently seized your wrists and brought them on his stomach. "Just hold on here." You  felt his back tense as you joined your hands on his body. You hadn't been this close to him since you'd met. Your own body's reaction was to nestle against Bucky's. Whether you wanted to feel safe on this bike or you just needed him to be close, you had no clue. Bucky started the engine, made sure you were holding on tight and started driving through the streets. The wind on your exposed skin made you shiver and after ten minutes or so, you felt comfortable enough to rest your chin on Bucky's back, right behind his shoulder.

Something in the way Bucky drove and took his turns made you think he was  used to go faster. Was he slowing down for you?

"Are you going slower than usual?" you yelled behind him.

Turning his head around would've been too dangerous so he nodded.

"Don't hold yourself back for me then, I'm not a kid!"

His shoulders moving hinted at a laugh as the motorbike sped up. It only made you cling harder to him and when you arrived at the compound half an hour later, you realised  you were smiling too hard for your own good.

"You screamed", he said in a soft voice, a smile floating on his lips.

"No, I did not."

"Yeah, you did."

You  shook your head and tried putting on a serious face as you saw Wanda coming to you. You didn't want her to tease you about your – probably  – huge smile. By the look in her eyes, you could tell she'd obviously busted you. She hurried towards you and hugged you tight.

"I'm so happy to see you," she breathed. "Are you here to work with Bruce?"

"Yeah, or just help around." You lowered your voice. "I needed to get away from home for the day."

Your sister gave you a confused stare before she understood. "Oh. He's working too much again?"

"Yeah. I guess staying home with his now-wife is too much to ask." You looked away for a second. "Sorry, I didn't mean to be bitter."

Bucky got off of the bike as well and stopped next to you, as if waiting for something. He must've spotted the interrogation in your eyes because he gestured to your head.

"The helmet," he explained. "I don't think you wanna wear that all day."

You chuckled. "No, I don't." You struggled once again with the straps and when Bucky unstrapped them for you, the same shiver as earlier ran down your spine. "Thanks for the ride," you added as he walked away to the building. He waved at you and nodded, smiling a little less brightly than he did in front of your house.

"That was some tension I just saw there," Wanda remarked. "Were you even able to keep your hands off him on that bike?"

"Wanda!"

"What? I'm just asking. Isn't he your soulmate or something?"

You ran your hand through your ruffled hair and gave her a disapproving look.

"You"re the one who told me soulmates could very well be friends," you argued. "And you  shouldn't be encouraging me down that road. I'm married, in case you forgot."

"Yeah, to a man who didn't even booked a honeymoon."

"He's busy," you said, looking away from your sister. Finding excuses for Darren was easy. Selling them to your sister was a whole different ballgame.

"Not to me, y/n. You should tell him you want to go!"

"Yeah, maybe tonight." You started walking to the compound. "I need to talk to Bruce about our last meeting. I'll see you later."

Wanda shook her head before going the other way, towards the gardens. You loved your sister, obviously, and she meant the world to you. However, when she was seeing right through your lies and excuses like she'd just been, it always drove you mad at yourself. Sure, you were in love with Darren and he'd never been mean to you, but you knew perfectly you didn't have to take all of his shit. You could feel he was taking you for granted, and you decided that had to change. If you didn't start fighting for your own wellbeing, you knew Wanda would. You weren't eager to witness such events.

--- Just finished writing part 7, so here's part 4 for you! I hope you still like this story :) Your likes really make me smile throughout the day ehe

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Just a Cold

MARK SLOAN X READER

REQUEST: Could you do one for when Mark is the reader is sick, but is doing everything to not have him notice. Then ends up getting worse. Sorry hope this makes sense lol :)- Anonymous

A/N: I loved this request sooo much! I wasn’t sure whether you wanted Mark and the reader to be in a relationship or not so I kinda did it like they might be but it could also be just flirting idk? I hope I wrote it okay and that you enjoy it :)

*WHY ISNT THERE A CONCERNED MARK GIF WHERE HE ISNT CRYING URGH*

I blinked my eyes open as sun shot through the blinds into my room, glaring across the white and grey walls. I groaned and rolled over, covering my face with a pillow as i slammed the alarm clock off. A vicious cough ripped through me and I winced, my chest contracting and sharp pains running through my head. It was my own fault really, i had gotten off work a little earlier than usual and decided to go for a walk while it was still light out. My downfall really was when I had decided against bringing a coat, instead trusting the stupid jumper I was wearing to keep me warm. The weather had looked nice enough to begin with but after 20 minutes the sky had decided to chuck buckets of water down on me and I was drenched, resulting in the now painful cold I had given myself. I opened my eyes again and looked at the clock, trying to turn the minutes back to give me more sleep. When this failed, I rolled out of my fluffy, lucious cloud of a bed and walked to the bathroom, hoping a warm shower would wake me up and heal my blocked sinuses. I rubbed my eyes as I stepped into the tiled room, looking at the mirror. My reflection wasn't too bad although I could see my eyes were a little puffy and my nose was sporting a tinge of flaring red. Sighing, I turned the shower on and undressed, pulling my hair up into a bun and stepping into the relaxing steamy fumes. When I had finished getting ready and had grabbed a breakfast bar that would end up ignored in my locker, I trudged out the door, locking it behind me and starting the 10 minute walk to the hospital. I really hoped I would have time to grab some medicine before rounds but I doubted it, seeing as I had spent way too long dying in the shower. A strong breeze ripped past me and I shuddered, pulling my coat closer to me and trying to hold down the scratching cough at the back of my throat. I soon arrived at the hospital doors and gladly went inside, thankful for the shelter against the weather. I walked slowly to the residents' locker room, smiling at a few nurses as they walked past. The room was bustling with noise as I entered and a few people called out my name but I just smiled, making my way over to my locker next to Alex. He turned to face me once he saw me coming over and chuckled at my pained expression. "You look like crap." He said as I stripped off my jacket and jumper, pulling my scrubs over the long sleeved shirt I thankfully wore. "Thanks so much Karev." I hissed, now pulling off my trousers and yanking on the rougher blue scrub ones. "No worries Y/N." He grinned at me and I rolled my eyes, sitting down next to him. The locker room seemed to be getting louder by the second and I shut my eyes, trying to block out the dull pain in my head. I stayed like that for a few minutes until I felt Alex nudge me, "Come on don't want the interns slacking off." I nodded and groaned, standing up. We walked side by side until we reached the nurse's station and he went off to torment his group of suck ups. I gathered the folders with patient info and dragged myself over to my 4 interns who stared at me. "What are you waiting for?" I said harshly and they scampered, heading off to the first patient's room as I followed behind. I wasn't usually that harsh with the interns but I was strict and they behaved well, eager to learn. I tried my best to educate them but sometimes they really got on my nerves. Once we made our way into the first patient's room, the interns lined up by the door while I walked to the bed. "Goodmorning Mr Davis, how are you doing today?" I asked softly, trying to hide my running nose. "Alright, hurts a little but it's getting better." I nodded and looked over to one of my interns, "Johnson?" At once the intern started pratlling on about Mr Davis' case and I nodded along, half listening to him, half trying not to close my eyes. He stopped talking fairly quickly and I nodded, "well done, we need hourly checkups on Mr Davis' vitals for the next few days but you should be ready to go home in a few days." I directed the last part at the patient who nodded and smiled. I walked out the room and passed the interns out the patient folders. The next patient was Mrs Walker who had recently had a rhinoplasty to fix her incredibly wonky broken nose from falling off a ladder while painting her house. It had been a simple case but there were complications in the OR and she was now under careful watch. I noticed Mark standing in the corner of the room and I winced, hoping he would ignore me. I walked to the corner of the room by the door and stood a little away from the patient, listening drowsily to the interns. "Morning Y/N." A voice behind me whispered and my heart picked up pace when I recognised Mark's flirty tone. "Sloan." I said curtly, trying to disguise my illness because I know he would make a big deal out of it and really it was nothing. "Ouch, what's got your panties in a twist today?" Mark teased, easily letting the dirty words roll off his tongue. "Nothing." I retorted, not daring to look Mark in the eye. I could feel the warmth of his body behind me and I wanted so desperately to reach out and let his comforting hold engulf me but I couldn't, not wanting him to make a big deal. "If you say so missy." He replied, whispering close to my ear. Despite my cold, I could feel heat rush through my body at Mark's seductive words. Normally I could retort with a witty remark but today the only thing my brain could focus on was the increasing ache in my bones. "Mark if you have finished flirting with Dr L/N, we have other patients to attend to." Derek called out, and I blushed, not even realising he had come into the room. "See you later L/N." Mark said as he left the room, leaving me wanting his heat back. The rest of rounds passed by incredibly slow and I now sat in the locker room again, trying to catch up on forms and paperwork that needed filling out. I had turned most of the lights off so the room was darker and was nursing a warm coffee in my hands. The soothing silence was helping to ease the growing ache in my head but the incessant coughing wasn't letting up. Suddenly, my pager started beeping and I groaned, putting my hot drink down and speed walking to Bailey. I was almost in the patient's room when I spotted Mark coming out of another room a few doors down and I quickly leaped into a supply closet before he could see me. I really loved Mark but he didn't need to see me when I was all runny nosed and coughing like a diseased hag. I waited 20 seconds, counting in my head before opening the door again and checking the coast was clear. It was so I walked out and over to Bailey's patient's room where she stood, talking to him about his upcoming surgery. She shot me daggers when I entered the room and I mouthed a sorry before explaining to Mr Morrison the risks. At lunchtime, I had just finished with a code blue, hoping to head to a dark, quiet space away from distractions. I was just stepping around a corner when I bumped into a solid chest, immediately apologising before looking up to see who it was. "Oh, Mark." I said, scanning the area to look for a way out and avoiding his gorgeous eyes. "Sorry about that Y/N, seems I have a knack for bumping into pretty women going for their lunch." I nodded absent-mindedly, trying to get away. "Right yeah urm I need to go." I said, going to walk past Mark but he grabbed my arm and pulled me back. "Woah woah woah what's the matter?" He asked, instantly concerned at my dismissal of his flirting. "Nothing." I said and he shook his head, bending his head down to meet my averting gaze. "You said that earlier." Mark continued, both hands now on my arms as he kept me still. "mm." I hummed, staring at the wall behind Mark. "You sure you're okay, you look a bit like your going to throw up." He said, concern lacing his voice. "No Im fine." I said, smiling weakly before scooting off down the halls leaving a worried plastic surgeon behind. For the rest of the afternoon, I sat on the bottom floor filling out charts. My headache and coughs had been getting progressively worse to the point where I could barely move due to my body aching so much. Luckily I wasn't in any surgeries today and Bailey hadn't been so much on my heels today although Mark had paged me a few times to the Attending room which I ignored. He had spotted me earlier after Mer had wanted me in the research room but I had run down the halls back here before he could catch me. I knew it was only a matter of time before he sought me out. I was almost done filling out the last chart when the door swung open and a familiar head of peppered hair came through the doors. I cringed inwardly and tried to make myslef as small as possible in the gap between the two hospital beds. I waited, trying to control my laboured breathing as he walked nearer, calling out my name. I closed my eyes shut as he closed in on my position. "Y/N?" Mark asked as he spotted my feet poking out from between the two beds. I winced at his voice and he ducked down, crouching in front of me and placing a hand on each of my bent knees. "Y/N?" He asked again and I opened my eyes. He sucked in a breath and immediately tried to bring me closer to him but I groaned. "No please Mark it hurts." I whispered, my voice just a croak. "Jesus Y/N you look like a ghost." Mark said, his face serious and eyes kind. I tried to smile but I couldn't manage, my head flaring up with every movement. Mark gathered the charts I had lying around me and placed them on the nearby bed before squatting back down. "Hey let's get you out of here." He softly said, but I shook my head, sniffling and wincing at the ache. "Come on, I'll help you." He continued, placing a hand on my warm cheek. I looked into his eyes and gave in, nodding slightly. Mark wrapped an arm around my waist and put another on my hip as he helped lift me up, careful to not be to rough. "That's it." He softly spoke, my hands resting on his upper arms for support. As soon as I was standing he brought me into his chest, resting his head on top of mine and stroking my back softly. I closed my eyes and breathed in his comforting scent, relaxing into the warmth. I felt Mark's hand smooth my hair and kiss the top of my head before he whispered, "Why didn't you tell me you were ill?" He stepped back slightly but still held me close, looking into my eyes. "I didn't want to bother you, it's not that bad." I replied, slightly shaky. "Y/N..." Mark said, brushing my hair behind my ear and cupping my face. "What bother's me is not knowing your ill and not being able to help." He said, bringing me back into his arms. "Im sorry." I said, nuzzling into his neck. "It's okay, let's get you into bed." Mark replied, kissing my forehead. Mark had ended up persuading me to go to his house, and I was currently stood in his bathroom, a towel wrapped around me. The steam from the hot shower had freed up my nose a little but the throbbing in my head hadn't let up yet. I walked into Mark's bedroom, rubbing my eyes. "Hey." Mark smirked, making me open my eyes to see his stupid self standing there with a cheeky grin as his eyes ran up and down my body. "My eyes are up here." I said quietly, making him chuckle and a small smile come across my face. "You know I think my towel on you is my new favourite look of yours." Mark said as he watched me walk across the carpeted floor to him. I narrowed my eyes at him and sniffled, holding onto the white fluffy towel that just surpassed my bum tightly. "If I wasn't so ill right now Sloan, I'd punch that pretty little grin off of your face." I hissed, taking the sweatpants and tshirt out of his hands. "Oh so you think I'm pretty then?" Mark teased, eyes still wandering. "Piss off." I said, watching Mark as he smirked wider and I headed into the bathroom again, closing the door. When I had managed to pull the black tshirt on, I looked at the sweatpants and groaned, resenting having to struggle into another item of huge clothing. It was worse than putting leggings on after swimming. I had panties on and Mark's tshirt came down to my mid thigh so I unlocked the door, hoping Mark had a pair of shorts I could wear. As soon as I stepped out, Mark sat up on the bed, eyes raking my body yet again. "Jeez Y/N you think you were trying to kill a man." He said as I walked towards him, cradeling the sweatpants. I was exhausted and couldn't think of any remark so just stuck my hands out, extending the sweatpants to Mark. "I'm too tired to put them on." I said quietly before a violent cough coursed through my body. "Okay come here." Mark said and sat me down on the bed, taking the sweatpants. I expected him to walk off to get some shorts but he crouched down in front of me and lifted my ankle into the cuff of the sweatpants. I blushed and muttered, "thanks." Mark just grinned and winked cheekily, making my face flush even more. He brought the sweatpants to my knees before asking me to stand up which I did. He went to take them up further and started lifting the tshirt before I grabbed his hands. "I think I can do the rest." I said softly, rolling my eyes at Mark's constant dirty flirting. "Worth a try." He remarked, brushing the hair out my face. Once I had gotten the sweatpants on and had gulped down 2 glasses of water and some medicine, I walked back from the hallway to Mark's room, seeing him lying in the bed with his pyjamas on. I yawned and smiled sleepily. "Gonna come join me missy?" He asked, flicking the duvet off to reveal his tartan clad legs and comfy bed. I nodded, dragging myself to the other side of the bed and climbing in before resting next to Mark. He chuckled and lifted me slightly, laying my head down on his chest and wrapping my arm around his waist while he hugged mine. I sighed contently and snuggled into his warming body, letting waves of sleepiness wash over me, lulling me to sleep. Mark turned the bedside light off and kissed the top of my head, whispering, "Night love." I smiled and closed my eyes, drifting off. 

Happy Monday!!! Hope you’re week started well?? It’s that time again!!! What was your first kiss with Jumin like?? Enjoy!!! ♥️

Happy Wednesday now!! I’m sorry it took me a few days to get to this, it’s finals week for me so I haven’t had as much free time. Thinking about this and writing Soft Jumin™ made my week soooo much better though so thank you for sending this in!! :)

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

He had invited me over for brunch at his penthouse as a date. At this point we had only been on a few. A nice restaurant that was way too expensive, his personal garden to walk through the rows of endless flowers, and as his official date to a casual RFA gathering. I had also been over once specifically to meet Elizabeth the Third at Jumin’s request, which had honestly been more nerve-wracking than any of the other occasions. Even with all of this, besides some hesitant touches and brushing of our hands here and there, there had not been too much progress in terms of the physical portion of the relationship. 

This was fine though, unlike me, he had not been in a relationship before so I didn’t want to make him uncomfortable by rushing into anything he was not ready for. I had left the speed of the relationship up to him. 

I ended up arriving at his place way earlier than planned because I was too excited to just sit around at my apartment twiddling my thumbs any longer. I knocked on the door a little too loud out of eagerness and waited as I heard footsteps on the other side of the door. It was obvious he had not been expecting me so early, his face not hiding his surprised look, but it quickly softened into a smile as he greeted me. He was wearing black pants that were slightly more casual than his normal slacks and a white button down shirt with the top few buttons undone, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. What caught me off guard though was the flour-smeared apron he was wearing on top, which had a cat printed right on the middle of it.

When he invited me over for brunch, I wasn’t expecting him to be the one cooking it, but the warm, sweet smell wafting through the open door was definitely reassuring. 

He invited me in and hurried back into the kitchen to make sure none of the food was burning. I gave Elizabeth a quick pet before joining Jumin to see if there was anything he needed help with, and was surprised by what I walked into. The spread on the kitchen counter was impressive, a masterfully cut fruit platter, some perfectly crispy bacon laying on a nearby plate, and an ever-growing stack of pancakes. 

He said he was almost done and the table was already set so he didn’t need any help from me. With nothing to do I stood awkwardly to the side, peering around to watch him pour more batter onto the stovetop grill. He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye and chuckled, “if you really want something to do, just come here and talk with me while I finish up,” he said patting the counter with his hand. 

I turned and jumped up to slide onto the counter next to where he was cooking, wiggling my legs in the air as we happily caught each other up with the events of the last few days, conversation flowing effortlessly as always. 

He ended up needing an ingredient that was on the counter on the other side of me. When he reached over, I can only imagine how red my face turned when I realized how close he was leaning to me in this position. He must’ve realized it too because his face got a bit of an uncharacteristic pink tint to it when we made eye contact, the lighthearted conversation we were having came to a sudden halt. There was a pause, neither of us moving, before he smiled and placed his hands on the counter on either side of me, leaning himself even closer. 

He moved one hand up to gently stroke my cheek, using the excuse that there was flour he was trying to get off, even though I had not even touched any of the brunch preparations. After half-heartedly brushing his thumb against my cheek to “get rid” of the nonexistent flour, his hand lingered for a second before moving it down to tilt my chin up so my face was in line with his. The tension in the air was palpable as I looked back and forth between his eyes, searching for a hint of what was going on in his head. 

“Do you even realize how cute you are?” he asked as his features softened, not giving me time to respond before he leaned in to press his lips gently against mine, wrapping his other arm around my waist. 

He pulled back far too soon, his eyes crinkling in the corners as a wide smile stretched across his face, his steel grey eyes lighting up as he looked at me, “I’ve been wanting to do that since the first time I laid eyes on you.” 

I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him back in, lips nearly touching, “So have I,” I replied before closing the rest of the distance. Both of us smiled through this kiss, which was much less serious than the first and showed off the pure joy we both had in that moment. 

The only thing that snapped us back to reality was the smell of something burning, realizing he had neglected the last few pancakes on the stove. I tried to hold it in but I couldn’t help but laugh as he disappointedly dumped them into the trash, unable to salvage the crispy burnt discs they had turned into. Regardless of this, he topped off the non-burnt pancakes with strawberries and berry syrup, and I helped him move all the food to the table. We ate gleefully, taking in each other’s presence as well as the incredible food he had made. Locking eyes as the meal went on, there was an unspoken mutual realization of how we could easily do this for the rest of our lives. 

Fuckbuddies Aren't Supposed to Share Fond Looks and Give Chaste Kisses

Read on: AO3

Atsushi suddenly pulls away from his mouth, sitting up on his haunches and pulling Akutagawa further into his lap. He’s biting his lip, looking as if he’s contemplating something.

“Can we…can we go further today?” Atsushi asks tentatively, shy violet-yellow eyes gazing into his grey ones. Akutagawa’s (barely there) eyebrows hike up to his forehead, absorbing the jinko’s question.

Or: Fuckbuddies-with-obvious-growing-feelings Shin Soukoku go all the way for the first time. Featuring compliment-starved Akutagawa.

Beginning note:

This work is the second installment for my ongoing series. Check out the prequel to this one, “Did you know male cats have spines on their dicks?”. It’s not a super must, but if you want to you can go ahead and read that first.

Just a precautionary trigger warning for people with weight issues. Akutagawa’s canon height and weight puts him at BMI 16 (underweight), so he is beyond “just slim”. That’s like…Lisa Manoban thin, except he doesn’t have her muscles.

—

Akutagawa wonders how they ended up this way.

Three hours ago they were on a joint mission, blood running high on adrenaline as they crack down on a bunch of armed men while simultaneously dealing with a strong ability user.

Two hours ago they arrived in his apartment, bringing the jinko into his home for the third time now. They ordered some takeout from a random Chinese restaurant, flipped some random channels, and had a random argument about something related to big cats when the TV landed on Animal Planet. 

They bickered some more, Akutagawa progressively getting more annoyed which led him to tackle the jinko on the couch–

Which led to them currently grinding against each other. The leather underneath them squeaks in complaint as Akutagawa grinds his hips downward on the jinko’s crotch. Atsushi moans softly, wrapping his hands tighter around the other man’s hipbones and pulls him further to him, his own hips rising to meet the other’s clothed erection. Akutagawa grinds on him harder, wanting to elicit more moans out of the jinko’s mouth. 

He supposes it was natural, considering the recent nature of their relationship. They haven’t exactly been “purely work partners” for a while now, since it wasn’t really professional to make-out, grind, and give handjobs to your partner. Not to mention they are technically from rival organizations.

Akutagawa feels his arms strain from under his weight, having sustained the position for a few minutes. Inwardly, he curses his weak body for being unable to hold himself up for prolonged periods of time. His elbows start to bend in exhaustion on either side of the jinko’s head.

Atsushi notices his struggle from below him. He leans up to press a kiss on Akutagawa’s mouth before wrapping his arms around his back and turning them over swiftly. Akutagawa breathes out a small sigh of relief as his back hits the couch. Atsushi leans down for another kiss, their tongues dancing at a relaxed pace, neither of them feeling a need to hurry. They have lots of time on their hands, inside the safety of his apartment, and especially since his sister was away on a week-long mission.

He hikes his thighs up, feet rising to tangle themselves around the back of the jinko’s knees. Atsushi pulls away from him briefly, hands leaving their place under Akutagawa’s back and places them on the back of his thighs, pushing them up so the dark-haired man could wrap his legs around his lower back.

Akutagawa’s cheeks flush from the position. Atsushi returns to him, his face also flashing crimson from how intimate it felt (even though they were still fully clothed). He pushes the odd feeling away, hands going back to Akutagawa’s hips and resuming their grinding.

They kiss some more, Atsushi leaving more kisses on Akutagawa’s neck and collarbone while the dark haired man lets out soft sighs of pleasure. The desire to move on to the next stage grows stronger, wearing Akutagawa’s patience thin. He kisses back harder, hoping that the jinko gets his point.

Atsushi suddenly pulls away from his mouth, sitting up on his haunches and pulling Akutagawa further into his lap. He’s biting his lip, looking as if he’s contemplating something. 

“What is it, jinko?” Akutagawa huffs in annoyance. Atsushi blinks at him, an unsure curl on his lips. His teeth fidgets with his bottom lip before continuing. 

“Can we…can we go further today?” He asks tentatively, shy violet-yellow eyes gazing into his grey ones. Akutagawa’s (barely there) eyebrows hike up to his forehead, absorbing the jinko’s question.

Akutagawa blinks back slowly at the jinko. “What do you mean?”, he says, knowing fully well what the other is trying to ask of him. He wants to hear it anyway, his excitement growing at the thought of their relationship reaching a new height.

“I mean l-like…” Atsushi stutters before licking his lips. “Like going all the way.”

Akutagawa opens his mouth and thinks of a few responses, “God fucking finally”, “I thought you would never ask”, or “Well what the hell are you waiting for?”, he decides against all of them.

Because he will never admit it to the jinko, but he had been waiting for 4 months and two weeks, and hearing that question is making his heart beat ecstatically. 

Instead he wraps his legs tighter around the jinko’s waist. Atsushi exhales nervously, waiting for his response.

“Do what you want.”  He says airily, trying to sound nonchalant. Atsushi beams in excitement, biting his lower lip as he reaches between them to pop Akutagawa’s trousers open. He eagerly slides the slacks down Akutagawa’s thighs, the other man moving one of his leg underneath Atsushi to help him pull it off easily. Akutagawa even goes further and pulls his briefs down, eyes locking on the way the jinko’s mouth hang dumbly as he stares at the cloth sliding off his slim legs. He settles back on his previous position, his frilled blouse barely covering his nether regions and leaving very little to the jinko’s imagination. He silently dares the other to continue. 

Atsushi snaps himself back with great effort, his mouth suddenly feeling dry. Well…that was hot.  He reaches forward to push the coat off Akutagawa’s shoulders, but stops to look into the other’s eyes for permission. Akutagawa hesitates for a few seconds before complying, pulling his arms out of the sleeves and hanging the coat on the couch’s armrest. Even in times like this, he feels wary to part with Rashoumon.

Atsushi gazes at him understandingly. Akutagawa huffs, yanking at the jinko’s tie, Atsushi yelping as he’s pulled forward. He gets the hint instantly, pulling quickly on the tie around his neck. He unbuttons his shirt, Akutagawa’s hands assisting him to make him undress faster. The other man beats him to the last button, and Akutagawa yanks it out of the hole almost angrily.

He pushes the shirt down the jinko’s shoulders along with the suspenders, eager to run his hands down the pale chest. Atsushi is some ways away from muscular, but he’s lean, toned, and healthy. He feels a twinge of jealousy at the stark difference of their bodies as he runs his hands appreciatively down the jinko’s chest. He almost feels afraid to show his own, his self-consciousness about his frail body starting to rear its nasty head. His hand reaches the jinko’s navel and he notices burn scars by his hip. He runs wary fingers over them, bringing his gaze back up to see the jinko’s conflicted expression. Immediately he knows there’s a story behind them, but he figures there’s another time to hear it.

Atsushi chooses that moment to reach forward to tug the first button of his blouse open, quickly trying to dispel the memories that threatened to resurface. Unbeknownst to him, the other man was battling with his own turmoil. Akutagawa helps him, pulling his cravat loose and off his neck, fingers trembling the tiniest bit as he wrestles with unfamiliar nervousness for his body. Atushi finishes the last button, only for Akutagawa to immediately wrap his arms down his torso, obscuring Atsushi’s view and turning his head to the side.

“Akutagawa, hey. What’s wrong?” Atsushi says above him, a pleading tone on his voice. He rests his hands on Akutagawa’s elbows, gently coaxing them to uncross. “I want to see you too.” He says one more time, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss on the corner of Akutagawa’s mouth.

Reluctantly, Akutagawa moves his arms away from his body, opting instead to rest his hands on the jinko’s forearms. Atsushi gazes tenderly at him, one hand running softly over the length of his torso, starting from his protruding collarbones all the way to his navel. Akutagawa breathes through his nose, trembling slightly as he watches the other’s reaction. Atsushi leans down, pressing soft kisses on his chest.

“Pretty.” He says, one word to describe the sight before him, because even with such a frail body Akutagawa is gorgeous and he has no reason to hide from his gaze. Akutagawa’s skin colors pink from the comment, eyes darting shyly to the side, but Atsushi gently cradles his jaw back to face him. He leans down to press a hungry kiss on the other’s mouth, wanting to let the other know that he truly wants him. Akutagawa responds just as hungrily, tongues interlocking fervently.

They pull apart with a gasp, but Atsushi’s teeth immediately latches on Akutagawa’s throat.  He notes how slender the other is as he runs his hand down the other man’s sides, his thumbs nearly touching. He moves his mouth lower, lips catching on the other man’s nipple and gives the nub a hard lick, prompting a high pitched moan from the other. His clothed erection bumps Akutagawa’s bare cock, eliciting a sudden pained hiss from him. He whispers a quick ‘sorry’ to the other’s ear.

“Jinko…bedroom.” Akutagawa breathes out shakily, pushing at the other’s chest.

Somehow, Atsushi feels himself go harder at the implication. He swallows, nodding once before placing one hand below his knees and the other below his back. He lifts him easily, his tiger strength unchallenged by the other man’s light body. He remembers to take the coat with him, following his gut instinct that Akutagawa would prefer to have his ability nearby. Silently, Akutagawa approves of the action. He reaches up and cradles the jinko’s cheek to give him a chaste kiss. He doesn’t notice how the other falters in his step, heart soaring with something he has yet to recognize.

They reach his bed, the jinko dropping him gently on the mattress. Atsushi tosses the coat on the nearby desk before returning to him, bracing his arms on either side of Akutagawa’s head to gaze at him tenderly. He notes the way the other man looks softer and more unguarded than usual, eyes losing their almost permanent glint.

“What?” Akutagawa says, so softly that Atsushi almost doesn’t hear him. He shakes his head with a fond smile. “It’s nothing.”

Akutagawa rolls his eyes in mock annoyance, reaching over to his bedside drawer to retrieve a bottle of lube. Atsushi frowns at the unfamiliar object when Akutagawa hands it to him, though he has an idea about what it was for.

“Ummm…is this…?” He asks unsurely, turning the bottle around his hands. Akutagawa chuckles at his uncertainty.

Across him, Akutagawa is amused to know that the jinko has no experience at this level, even though it was unsurprising. He feels an odd sense of relief deep in his chest, the realization that he is the jinko’s first doing something to the beat of his heart.

Atsushi is unaware of the reason why Akutagawa had such a reaction, but all he could think of was: Akutagawa just laughed. Akutagawa just laughed. Akutagawa just laughed and it sounds so beauti-

“It’s to make things easier.” Akutagawa supplies for him, raising himself up to a sitting position before pulling the jinko to him. “Here, I’ll show you.” He takes the bottle from the jinko’s hands. He shifts, spreading his legs open, Atsushi’s mouth falling wide as he stares at his opening. He places trembling hands on both of the other man’s knees, pressing down ever so gently.

Akutagawa takes one of his hands without a word and uncaps the bottle open, pouring a sizeable quantity over the jinko’s fingers. Atsushi tilts his head curiously at the texture. He guides the jinko’s hand lower, closer to his opening, and Atsushi’s cheeks fire up as the pad of his finger grazes sensitive skin at his entrance. The other man looks at him expectantly, and he swallows, starting to nudge his middle finger in as slow as he could. The lube does it work, helping him slide in easily.

I’m fingering Akutagawa. Wow. I can’t believe it. This is my first time ever-

His thoughts screech to a halt as he sees the other man’s uncomfortable expression. Akutagawa must have noticed a change in his face, pulling harder at his wrist and guiding him to move his finger back and forth. Atsushi gets it quickly, sliding his finger in and out more firmly and at a steady pace. He continues doing it a couple more times, noting how Akutagawa relaxes around him, small puffs of breath coming out of his nose.

The other man opens his eyes, his hand on the jinko’s wrist shifting. “You can put in another one now.” Atsushi nods at him shakily, pulling back and adding another finger in. He must have pushed in way too quickly, because Akutagawa clenches around his fingers, a sudden grunt of pain coming out of his mouth.

“I’m sorry!” Atsushi blurts immediately, pulling his fingers back, but Akutagawa keeps them inside by grabbing his wrist with both hands.

“W-wait no. Just…” Akutagawa breathes out, almost pleadingly. Atsushi’s chest clenches at the way the other man blinks with strain. “Do it slowly.”

“Y-yes, I got it.” Atsushi replies hastily, gulping a nervous breath. He does that exactly, sliding his fingers back inside slowly. Akutagawa lies back down, biting his lip and closing his eyes. Atsushi pulls him closer to his lap, raising the other’s hips so he could access him better.

Atsushi notes how it takes longer for Akutagawa to relax this time, fingers squelching as he thrust them at a slow pace. A minute or two later he feels Akutagawa completely relax around him, having fully adjusted. Atsushi hesitates for a moment before pushing his fingers back in firmer strokes, pace quickening a notch but not enough to be fast.

“O-ohh…” A low drawn out moan rips out from Akutagawa before he could stop it, writhing as his hands claw at his bedsheet. Atsushi wonders if he could draw out louder moans from the other man. He does it a few more times, prompting similar sounds from the other.

“M-more, jinko.” Akutagawa tells him, reaching an arm out again to guide Atsushi’s wrist. “Right here, curl your fingers and–”

Atsushi does as he’s told, and was unprepared to witness the sight before him. Akutagawa throws his head back suddenly, teeth gritting and eyes pinching closed. Atsushi worries for a moment if he has hurt him again, only to be completely floored by the pleasured moan that comes out of the man’s mouth.

He pulls his fingers out and drives them back in, quick and sure, rubbing on the same spot that had Akutagawa moaning the way he did. He’s delighted at the louder moan that escapes the other’s mouth, his own hard cock twitching in his pants at the sound. Akutagawa bites his lip, trying to stifle his moans as the jinko continues thrusting his fingers into him.

An idea pops into Atsushi’s mind, feeling a surge of confidence. He slows down for a second, nudging a third finger into the other man. Akutagawa raises his head, wondering why he stopped only to crash his head back down. His back arches, throat releasing broken high-pitched moan as he realizes what the other had just done. Atsushi resumes his pace, intense violet-yellow eyes trained on him, watching his every reaction and burning it into his memory.

In his pleasure-filled mind Akutagawa notes how much better it felt to have the jinko finger him compared to himself. He lets out another loud moan before biting his lip again, already tender from how much he had bitten it to stifle his noises. He opens his eyes, words catching at the tip of his tongue to ask the jinko to stop, or he’s going to come like this.

Instead he sees the jinko’s still clothed erection, eliciting an irritated reaction from him. The sight snaps him out of his pleasure, grabbing suddenly at the other’s wrist.

“J-jinko, stop for a moment.” He says breathlessly. Atsushi complies, pulling his fingers out reluctantly, wiping the perspiration on his forehead with his arm, wondering why Akutagawa asked him to stop. He’s keenly aware of the slick coating his fingers.

He lets out a shocked groan as Akutagawa suddenly yanks at his clothed hips, one hand immediately cupping his bulge. “Why the hell are you still wearing clothes?” The other man says annoyedly, shaky fingers working on unbuckling his belt and yanking it off. Atsushi tries to help him, but Akutagawa was already and unbuttoning his pants and pulling his fly open, fingers darting into the hem of his boxers. Atsushi doubles over in sudden relief as the other man wastes no time to envelope him in his fist. A keen escapes his throat, one hand resting over the one Akutagawa has wrapped on his cock. The other man thumbs at his slit, already oozing with pre-cum. He strokes him slow and steady, the slick from his cock providing some ease. Atsushi groans lowly, eyes rolling back before closing tightly as he thrusts back shallowly in Akutagawa’s hand, desperate for release.

“You thought you could make me come so early?” Akutagawa challenges, pressing his thumb harder on the slit and playing around with the sensitive head, before stroking him at a faster pace.

“A-ah!” Atsushi moans loudly, hips stuttering from the pleasure. He fumbles his hand on Akutagawa’s fist, trying to pull him off, knowing that if he let the other man have his way then he’s going to come right then and there. Akutagawa strokes him quickly several more times before he finally succeeds in pushing the other man hands away from his cock. The man in front of him was smirking triumphantly.

He watches as Akutagawa lies back down, one hand trailing between his spread thighs. His mouth goes dry as the other man nudges his opening with two fingers, gaze locked on him with want.

“Come on, jinko.”

Atsushi’s mind must have short-circuited, because he doesn’t remember pulling his pants and underwear down his legs. He crawls towards the other, pushing his thighs further apart as he settles between them. Akutagawa hastily uncaps the lube once more, pouring an adequate amount on his hand and slathering it up and down on the jinko’s cock with his grip. Atsushi hisses from the contact and continues to shift forward the moment the other was done.

He lines his cock at the other man’s opening and pushes slowly, hands tight on Akutagawa’s hips. It takes a monumental effort to try not to sheath himself fast. He raises his head up to check at the other man’s expression.

Even with his gentle entry, pain still blossoms on Akutagawa’s face. Guilt surges through his heart, a litany of apologies already at his tongue. Akutagawa quickly notices the worried strain on the jinko’s face. He puts a hand over one of the jinko’s, squeezing him as a reassurance. “It’s alri-ight.” His voice breaks at the end.

Atsushi slides slowly, inch by inch until he finally bottoms out, closing his eyes momentarily as he sighs at the tight heat around him. Akutagawa also lets out a sigh before taking a deep breath, trying to will the pain to go away.

“Does it hurt?"Atsushi says nervously, mentally slapping himself for asking such an obvious question. "We can stop if it’s too much–”

“N-no! No. Don’t. I don’t want to.” Akutagawa hastily blurts out, holding tighter on the jinko’s hand by his hip. He closes his eyes in concentration. He did not wait a long time just for them to stop now. “Just…just give me a moment.”

Atsushi breathes out a breathy 'okay’, brows furrowed as he struggles to keep himself from thrusting. Akutagawa breathes in and out, adjusting himself to the feeling of the jinko’s cock in him. Atsushi slides a hand up his navel, thinking of a way to distract the other from the pain. The pad of his thumb stops at the nub on the other’s chest and toys with them. Akutagawa whimpers and opens his eyes, swatting at the hands half-heartedly. The jinko ignores him, continuing to toy with his nipple, pinching them between his fingers.

“You l-little…” He stammers as a keen escapes his throat, glaring at the jinko’s playful little smile as he weakly fends off the jinko’s hands. Atsushi’s other hand joins on his other nipple, doing the same action. Akutagawa blushes heatedly, the experience of his nipples being toyed with making him feel embarrassed.

The stimulation proves to be helpful, the pain dulling away as he steadily got used to the intrusion. He rolls his hips experimentally. Atsushi’s hand do stop from their teasing, hands going back to his waist, thumbs running circles on his hipbones. Akutagawa rolls his hips a few more times before finally only a dull ache remains.

He gives (or tries to) the jinko a challenging look. “W-what are you waiting for?” He says, mentally preparing himself.

Atsushi nods in assent, jaw tightening in determination as he pulls out slowly and slams back in one thrust. Akutagawa throws his head back with a moan, which Atsushi takes as a good sign. He repeats the action, setting a steady pace. He watches raptly at the blissed out face of Akutagawa who was currently letting out mewls, a loud moan escaping on occasion. Atsushi pants sofly, pleasure shooting up his spine each time he thrusts.

“A-ah…you feel so good.” He tells him in between pants, the feeling of Akutagawa’s tight heat around him the only thing on his brain. Below him, Akutagawa’s breath hitches, biting his lip mid-moan. Something dangerously desperate blooms in Akutagawa’s mind from the jinko’s words.

“You’re so tight around me…it feels really good–ha”. Atsushi says again, letting the other man truly know how he felt but then he swears Akutagawa clenches around him. He leans forward a little, searching the other man’s expression and notices the way the man bit his lip shyly, face turned away.

No fair. Atsushi thinks to himself. He wants the other looking at him, wants him letting out those loud moans for him and only him to hear. He adjusts his hold, placing both hands under Akutagawa’s lower back for better leverage, and he fucks–truly fucks the other man as he thrusts harder in quick succession. Akutagawa’s mouth falls open at the change, back arching up from the bed and hands rushing to grip the bed sheet below him. A series of loud broken moans tumble out from his lips.

“Akutagawa–ha…do you know how p-pretty you are?” Atsushi says in between breathy moans, heart soaring with delight as Akutagawa keens with a sob. One of the other man’s hands leaves its clawed grasp on his bedsheet, nails raking scratches down Atsushi’s forearm instead. He doesn’t mind them the slightest bit, in fact he enjoys the slight pain. He revels in the discovery that Akutagawa likes being praised.

He continues the pace of his thrusts, beads of sweat pouring out of his head, hips never faltering as he drove himself in. He lets out a few more praises for the other man, whispering words such as, “So good and tight”, “I can do this again and again."  The other’s cheeks flush permanently pink from hearing his words, teeth catching at his bottom lip often to smother his pitched moans.

Akutagawa’s cock leaks on his stomach and Atsushi feels a little bad for not stimulating him there. He rakes his gaze upwards, admiring how Akutagawa has shed all of his composure for him, eyes watering with pleasured tears. Atsushi reaches for the hand on his arm and presses a kiss to the back of it–once, twice,  before holding the palm close for a few moments.

"S-so beautiful…ha…pulling me in and driving me crazy.” He breathes out over Akutagawa’s knuckles, watching as the other man’s lips tremble, looking embarrassed and pleased at the same time. He guides the man’s hand to his own erection. Akutagawa gets the message, wrapping his hand around his cock.

Atsushi slows down to shift their position, one hand returning under Akutagawa’s hip and pulling him more securely on his lap. He seeks Akutagawa’s free hand with the other, locking their fingers together and pressing their on the bed. He braces himself on his haunches and then–

His thrusts change completely, driving his cock into Akutagawa hard and fast, hips never faltering from his bruising pace. Akutagawa yelps, legs locking behind the jinko’s waist as his toes curl from the intense pleasure. Atsushi shifts his thrusts, angling them lower, searching for that one spot that made Akutagawa see stars earlier. The other man very nearly screams when he finds it, voice hoarse as he throws his head back and arches at an angle that Atsushi’s sure that was uncomfortable. Akutagawa’s teeth clack as he tries to stifle the loud sobs that escape his mouth and fails.

Between them, Akutagawa’s hand falters from the quick strokes he was giving himself, his climax so incredibly close already. Atsushi instinctually knows that he’s close, and he’s leans forward and whispers. “G-go ahead and come for me”.

Akutagawa nods shakily. He strokes himself a few more times, and he’s coming, a heavenly moan tearing out of his throat, and he’s screaming–

“Atsushi!” He yells out, right as his cum paints his chest in a white streak, ass clenching hard around Atsushi in the same moment that the jinko groans loudly.

The sound of his name spilling out from the other’s lips triggers something in Atsushi’s brain. He loses himself a couple of thrusts later, a long drawn out grown spilling from his lips, back bowing forward in immense pleasure while his vision goes white. His hips stutter as he blows his load inside the other man.

Below him, Akutagawa stiffens despite his high, feeling the warm fluid enter him. He tries to tell the jinko to pull out, but all he could manage was a weak glare. They both catch their breath, Akutagawa lying flat on his bed, chest heaving up and down while the jinko bows his head forward panting. Atsushi pulls out when he feels himself go soft, shoulders hunching in exhaustion as he lays beside the other.

It takes them a few minutes before their labored breaths slow down into satisfied sighs. Atsushi moves closer to the other man, pushing at his back to settle behind him. He wraps an arm around the other, pressing a chaste kiss by his nape. Akutagawa hums, feeling content, clutching the other’s arm closer.

“You said my name.” He hears the other breathe out in between soft sighs. “You said my name…” He says one more time, as if he’s yet to truly believe it. Akutagawa blushes a bright red, only realizing what he had done.

“Jinko…” He says, as if to correct himself, but he knows the other already feels like he has won. Atsushi shifts closer, listening intently.

“Y-yeah?”

“Pull out next time.”

Atsushi flushes behind him, a cheeky laugh escaping his mouth. “I’ll remember that.” Akutagawa could feel his smile at his nape, feeling ticklish as Atsushi pressed another kiss.

The jinko can’t see it, but his lips curl into a soft smile.

 —

Ending note:

GENTLE TOP ATSUSHI! GENTLE TOP ATSUSHI! GENTLE TOP ATSUSHI! Huge shoutout to my new friend, @guyfierimpreg who shared my top Atsushi brain cell. This wise person once said: “Akutagawa will pop a lung trying to top and mid-sex trips to the ER aren’t exactly sexy.” Period. Also, this work was inspired by her and @musicprincess655’ fics.

LMAO hopefully I did a good job for you guys, because this is the first time I’ve written serious smut xD As in, dick in the hole smut. This definitely won’t be the last.

These chaste kisses and fond looks man. That’s not some fuck buddy level shit. They’re IN LOVE. But ofc they don’t know that, because they’re both dumb af. Just to clarify tho, I don’t think Aku is very experienced. It’s just that I think it makes more sense for him to have more experience than the jinko because well, he’s older, and Atsushi was a caged tiger (almost literally) for most of his life.

Also guys. Irl sex usually involves more lube. Not that I would know that by experience, because I don’t partake in gay sex. Just so you know…trying to make sure I don’t give bad sex advice to you virgins. And please use condoms.

Just A Friend

Previous

AO3

Another Sunday, another chapter. Hope it’s a good weekend for you all, despite these uncertain times. I always intended this story to be a bit of fluffy light relief from the real world. Thanks for all the support for it.

There will probably be another 3 chapters after this, depending on how the characters behave. I cant seem to make them do what I want sometimes!

Thanks to @wickedgoodbooks for the beta

Chapter 11: From Marriage to Mackenzie

It’s 1pm and I’m in a hotel room, still in a bathrobe, sipping Buck’s Fizz whilst a hairdresser wrestles with my wayward curls, finally managing to corral them into some sort of recognisable hair style.

Geillis is sitting on the edge of the bed incongruously dressed in tiara and bathrobe, her hair arranged in an elaborate updo. I catch her eye through the dressing table mirror and smile before my vision is obscured by a miasma of hairspray.

A few final tweaks of my curls and it’s done. I am just amazed that my hair can be cajoled into such glossy, bouncy curls, held behind one ear by an ornately decorated comb. With suitable compliments and thanks, Geillis and I bid goodbye to the hairdresser.

The bride stands up and adjusts the belt of her robe. She seems the epitome of calm.

“Are you not nervous, Geillis? You’ll be walking down the aisle in about an hour’s time.”

“Weel, I am a wee bit worried about a couple of things,” she admits. “I dinna ken how ma cousin Janie will behave. She may try tae proposition every man under the age of seventy five. And as fer Dougal’s Uncle Eric—he has been known tae get steamin’ drunk and puke in the rose beds. But about the marrying? Nah, I dinna have any nerves about that. I want tae spend ma life wi’ Dougal and that’s what today is all about. I have nae worries about making that commitment. He’s the one fer me. When ye ken, ye ken. Trust me, Claire.”

The pocket of her bathrobe begins to buzz. She quickly pulls out her phone and reads the message.

“I’d best go. That was Mam, fretting about something or other. Are ye ok getting dressed on yer own?”

“I’ve managed for the past twenty nine years or so. I dare say I can manage another day.” I sigh theatrically.

“I ken. Ye can manage on yer own. Ye always do. But thanks fer being here with me today. It means a lot tae have the people who mean the most tae me around,” she leans over and gives me a kiss on the cheek. “But remember what I said, Claire, when ye ken, ye ken. Dinna ignore it.”

Pausing at the interconnecting doorway, she does a quick body shimmy and grins. “Woo hoo! I’m getting married. Canna believe it’s here now,”

From the adjoining room, I can hear a shouted response. “Geillis Duncan, ye get here now. Yer mam reckons that makeup lassie has done her eyeliner wonky. It looks fine tae me. Can ye come and talk some sense in tae the daft cow?”

“Alright, Da, I’m coming.” Geillis yells back before leaving to deal with her parents.

I sit down and study my bridesmaid’s dress, now hanging on the wardrobe door. I’m getting excited about the day ahead. Probably not as much as Geillis, obviously, but a host of butterflies appears to have taken residence in the pit of my stomach.

I’m truly thrilled for Geillis to be marrying Dougal—they love each other so much. But, also, it’s scary to me. She is willing, eager even, to commit to one person, to base her future life, her future happiness on one man. If they should ever leave…well, I’m not sure I’d be able to cope with that. If you love too hard, you can hurt too much. Trust me on that, I know. People leave you. Don’t give your heart to anyone, keep it hidden away, protected…intact.

The ping from my phone diverts me from this somber train of thought.

I’m downstairs at the hotel. Can you come and say hello?

I quickly type:

Come up to the 2nd floor. I’ll meet you by the lift.

Making sure the keycard is in my pocket, I slip my feet into the hotel’s complimentary slippers and shuffle out to meet Jamie.

I’m already waiting as the lift door opens and he emerges. My first thought is oh wow, as is my second...and third. He has made an effort for this wedding, and it’s certainly paid off. Eschewing the more formal Prince Charlie style, he’s wearing a charcoal grey jacket and waistcoat, perfectly matching the grey in his kilt. A crisp white shirt and burgundy tie complement the secondary colours in the tartan. His sporran is black leather, heavily etched or embossed. I can’t quite make out the detail. Then I feel myself blush as I realise I have been clearly staring at his...er, lower body. I look up quickly.

Fortunately, he doesn’t seem to have noticed. He looks me up and down and smiles. “Nice outfit,” he comments drily. “Is the bride wearing white towelling too? What’s the theme? Salon chic?”And is that part of the design?” He points to an orange stain on the front of my robe. I pull a face and tie the belt tighter, trying to tuck the offending piece of material out of sight.

“Must have spilled a drop of my Buck’s Fizz.”

“Drinking already? Dinna be staggering down the aisle.”

He reaches out towards my hair and pauses for a second before making a random circular motion with his hand. “And this…I like yer hair. It’s verra…verra…” he searches for the word. “... asymmetric.”

“Thank you,” I hold the ‘skirt’ of my robe and bob a little curtsy. “That’s totally what we were going for—asymmetric.”

He laughs. “Nah, seriously. Yer hair and yer makeup look grand. I’m sure ye’ll look lovely in yer dress.”

I gesture to my room. “I’d best finish getting ready.”

“Aye, I’ll see ye downstairs.” He presses the button for the lift.

“By the way, you look grand too.” I try to say it in an understated way. It’s true, but I don’t want him to read anything into the statement.

The lift arrives and he steps inside. As the doors close, he fires a parting shot. “Especially the sporran, eh?”

*********

Now in my bridesmaid’s dress, I practice a couple of pirouettes in front of the mirror before hearing a quick knock on the door to the adjoining room.

“Ye ready, Claire? Mam’s jes’ gone down. Only us three left.”

I walk through to the other room to be met by a riot of open suitcases, bags and boxes. A variety of towels, dressing gowns and footwear seem to be carpeting the floor.

“‘S ok,” Geillis’ voice comes from behind me. “It’s no’ ma problem. I’m no’ sleeping here tonight. I’ll be in the bridal suite. This’ll be Mam and Dad’s room.”

I turn to see my best friend now fully dressed and ready. Her father is hovering next to her, clad in kilt and full formal regalia. I always knew she would win that battle.

As beautiful as she looks, the thing that really strikes me is the way her father is watching her, with such love and pride. She returns his gaze and brings her forehead to rest against his cheek.

I swallow hard, fighting the desire to shed a tear. It’s such a precious image, so intimate, but also, I realise that, since Lamb died, I have nobody, no father figure, to share something like this. I feel a momentary pang of, not jealousy, but a feeling of regret over an emotion that I will never get to experience.

And then, just like that, the moment passes.

It always does.

Geillis passes me a creamy white posy tied with a simple ribbon and gathers up her bouquet of peonies, roses and fragrant eucalyptus.

“OK,” she takes a deep breath and breaks into a huge grin. “I think I’m late enough tae get Dougal jes’ a wee bit nervous. Time tae roll.”

*******

The hotel’s orangery provides a perfect setting for the wedding ceremony. Softly diffused sunlight filters through the white muslin drapes at the large windows. A slight breeze wafts the fabric gently, giving tantalising glimpses of the formal gardens outside.

At the end of the room, Dougal and Angus stand beside a large arch of succulent green foliage, staring straight ahead as Geillis and her father begin the procession down the aisle with me following.

Even before he turns to look, I can spot Jamie — his auburn curls are head and shoulders above those around him. He stays still at first, but as we draw near he turns around and grins before doing his funny blink, screwing up his face and closing both eyes, which I have learnt, is Jamie’s attempt at a wink. I return his smile before focussing on the arch getting ever closer.

Dougal appears rooted to the spot, but Angus turns around and watches for a moment before giving me a perfectly executed wink. I smile politely even as I shudder inwardly. The sheer self confidence of that man is beyond belief. Then he disappears from my thoughts as Geillis reaches the arch and passes me her bouquet to hold. The joy on her and Dougal’s faces as they prepare to make their vows is wonderful and I’m so happy to be a part of it all.

***************

They say the sun shines on the righteous. Well, Geillis and Dougal must be exceptionally good, as it’s a perfect summer afternoon. It’s beautifully warm, but not too hot, as all the guests mingle in the gardens, admiring the beautiful surroundings whilst drinking chilled champagne.

The photographer has finished with the formal photographs, so I’m allowed to relax and enjoy a glass or two. I can still spot him wandering around, ready to take more natural, candid shots of the proceedings but nobody seems to mind.

I was initially worried about inviting Jamie to the wedding for a couple of reasons. The first was my friends. Of course, my friends are great, but Anna and Mary can sometimes have an issue with boundaries and I had visions of the ‘conversations’ they might try to have with Jamie — ‘nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition’ unless Anna and Mary are around.

The second reason was that Jamie would literally know only one person at this wedding —me. And that, when I was off doing official ‘wedding stuff’, he would be on his own, billy-no-mates. But, as I look around, I realise I had absolutely nothing to worry about on that score. He has the knack, it seems, to get on with everyone.

At the moment he’s talking to Geillis’s father, laughing and joking like they’re old friends. He notices me looking at him, lifts his empty glass up and points to me. I hold my glass up and nod. He excuses himself and strolls towards the bar.

There’s a slight touch on my elbow. “Hello, dear.”

I draw my attention to the old lady standing next to me—Geillis’ great aunt Frances. I’ve met her on a couple of occasions before and have always enjoyed her company. She’s a straight talker and makes no bones about it. “When ye get tae my age,” I remember her commenting to me “ye dinna have time tae beat about the bush, ye need tae say what ye think.” I like that in a person.

“Hello, how nice to see you.”

“Ye too,dear. I must say ye’re looking awfa bonnie in that dress. It’s a fine colour on ye.”

“Thank you. And you’re looking lovely yourself.”

Frances makes a self deprecating ‘hmph’ sound, dismissing my compliment with a wave of her hand. “Away wi’ ye. Ye do yer best wi’ what ye’ve still got. Which isna much in ma case.”

I shake my head. “Not at—“

But she decides to change the subject and moves on with her next question. “Is that yer young man over there?” She points at Jamie, heading towards us with two glasses of champagne. “He’s a handsome chap, is he no’? Mind ye, that’s no more than ye deserve. Sae, mebbe ye’ll be next?”

“No, we—“

I have no chance to say anything more, before Jamie is by my side and handing me one of the glasses. I take a sip as he notices that Frances has no drink and, without hesitation, he passes the second glass to her.

“Aren’t ye kind… er?” She accepts gratefully.

“Jamie.”

“Weel, Jamie, let me tell ye. It’s been a long while since a good looking young man has brought me a drink. I should make the most of it. Anyway, I was jes’ saying tae our Claire here, how bonnie she looks today. Does she no’?”

She fixes her gaze on Jamie, demanding an answer.

“Aye, she looks lovely.” His eyes meet mine for a second, before I look away and try to change the subject.

“Don’t you think Geillis looks beautiful, Frances?”

But, it seems that Frances has one line of conversation that she is keen to pursue. “Oh aye, she does. But, Jamie, I was jes’ saying tae Claire that mebbe she’ll be next. What d’ye think?”

Fortunately, I’m spared any response as a gong sounds and the maître d’ announces that dinner is served and that everyone should make their way inside to the dining room.

****************

Having narrowly avoided any embarrassment, I am somewhat apprehensive to see Frances at our table. Fortunately, Geillis’ cousin and baby are enough to divert her attention away from any matrimonial prospects that may or may not be on my horizon.

With Jamie sitting by my side, I catch him up on all the behind the scenes activity of my day and we fall into our pattern of easy conversation and gentle banter. From time to time, I can see Frances, opposite, watching us with a look of approval on her face, but she says nothing.

Once the speeches and toasts are over, there’s a palpable change in the guests. Jackets are draped over chair backs, sleeves rolled up and waistcoat buttons undone. I can spot more than one woman moving awkwardly in her chair, struggling to locate the shoes that were eased off out of sight under the table. Cheeks become flushed with an abundance of rich food and tongues become looser with a surfeit of fine wine.

I sip my whisky, savouring its peaty smokiness. Jamie is in a serious rugby related conversation with his neighbour. A rustle of fabric behind me announces the arrival of the bride, a look of frustration on her face.

She greets the table politely before whispering “Can I borrow ye, Claire?”

I make my excuses and follow her into a quieter room.

“What’s up, Geillis? Is everything alright?” I’m concerned that there’s something genuinely wrong.

“It’s his bloody family,” she hisses. “The Mackenzies, if ye give them an inch, they’ll take a fuckin’ mile.”

She takes a deep breath and continues. “Dougal invited his second cousin Gary and his wife tae our evening do. Jes’ the two of them mind. Sae they turn up an hour and a half early and try tae cadge dessert and brandies from the waiters.”

“Where are they now?”

“Och, they’re sitting outside wi’ a couple of spare bottles of wine.” She gestures angrily to the gardens visible through the window. “And they’ll be first in the queue fer the buffet this evening, nae doubt. And what's more, they took it upon themselves tae bring their three bairns too. Weel, I say bairns, but they’re all in their twenties so it’s no’ as if they dinna have a babysitter.”

She finally sits down and lets her shoulders relax.

I take her hand and try to look serious. If this is the worst thing that happens today, that’s not so bad. Although clearly, in Geillis’ eyes, this is a catastrophe. “It’s not going to spoil anything really is it? They didn’t gatecrash the meal or the speeches,” I speak in a soothing tone. “Are you ok now?”

She nods. “Happen ye’re right. I jes’ wanted tae get it off ma chest. And I kent what I was getting in tae wi’ his family. But tae drag Gregory, Alicia and Laoghaire uninvited wi’ them jes’ pisses me off.”

I stare at her. “Laoghaire? Laoghaire Mackenzie?”

“Aye, that’s right. Unusual name, is it no’? Ye dinna find many of them around—thank god.”

FORBIDDEN - I.R.

Pairing: Ivar x reader

Sum: Ivar is forbidden to meet up with the woman he likes to, one day, make his mate

Hello 😊 So, I recently noticed that I now have 200 followers and for that: thank you all for sticking with me! Really, this has been so much fun so far! A while ago I bumped into a post of @rosepetals-flyingbirds​. They came up with a writing challenge and I wanted to do something, but then I got sick and kind of forgot about it… Oops. But now that I am better and with this 200 followers-thing I thought why not? Thus, I randomly selected one and just wrote whatever came to mind. It is an alpha x omega one, but without the smut. Not comfy writing that. I’m not used to writing something from the omegaverse, so I made it a bit of my own. Mixed with all kinds of stuff. It’s kind of focused on the time before a man becomes an alpha. Hope it is not a problem haha. Honestly, it was kind of an experiment. I worry too much, I think. It is set around season four, when Ivar was still a young man. Still cute and vulnerable. Remember that? Haha. Hope everyone enjoys – and again: thank you xxx

The prompt: 46 – “This is chaos”

---

At the edge of the forest, near the remains where according to the stories, the great Ragnar Lothbrok used to live, sat Ivar the Boneless. His eyes were closed as his chest went heavily up and down. His jaw clenched while low curses passed his lips.

The young man was fed up with the world around him. There he sat. A crippled wolf. Not respected by anyone. The only one of the brothers that had not left his home. The only one that was not a true alpha yet.  

At birth, it becomes clear in the first days if the child is to be an alpha or not. It was no surprise to anyone that the sons of Ragnar were destined to become alphas. And so, they were seen and respected as the dangerous and fearsome alpha’s they were meant to be. Björn and Ubbe had each left Kattegat to start their own pack with their mate, Hvitserk was still looking around for the one that could bare his pups and Sigurd had found his mate a few days ago. The mark on his neck was still fresh when he turned his back to his hometown.

And so, Ivar was the last and only son of Ragnar left in Kattegat. His trades had started to manifest already. He had become more aware of the harsh, cold wind that blew through the trees, yet he never felt cold. As the young prince made his way through Kattegat, he would often be overthrown by a sudden want to mark this territory as his. But most importantly, his senses became aware of possible mates around him. It had been a cloudy but pleasantly warm day when his nose first caught a whiff of your scent.

Ivar was sitting under a tree at the edge of the forest, that day. His fists clenched by his side while his mind pondered for possible answers why his trades manifested so slowly. He could feel the alpha inside of him grow with each passing day, and still with one look at the eager man, you could see and feel he wasn’t a true one. It was that sudden wind that carried your scent that made his pondering come to an end. Immediately captivated, Ivar had quickly crawled into the forest, not caring about anyone seeing him. His only goal was to find the source. It took him some time, but eventually he arrived at the end of the forest, far away from the heart of Kattegat. There, Ivar first laid his eyes on you. A young, beautiful omega. Ivar had quickly hidden himself behind a tree. He was careful not to let himself be found by his own scent or betrayed by the growing alpha inside of him who seemed rather pleased with the view. Like this, Ivar was able to take a good look at the one who seduced him to this place. Ivar couldn’t help himself, but a fine grin appeared on his face. He knew right then and there that he wanted you to be his.

The snap of a twig made him hide again and you grit your teeth in the direction of the sound, but as the intruder stepped forward Ivar watched how a relieved smile grew on your lips. Ivar growled lowly as a man stepped towards you. He was tall and broad. A wide grin was plastered on his face that was lathered with scratches and dirt while he proudly showed off the rabbit he had caught. Gritting his teeth, Ivar closed his eyes. He would never be able to attack this man… Not yet at least.

The young prince was more than glad to hear the word “sister” pass the brought man’s lips. Ivar’s eyes fell on your neck. He found no evidence of a mark. For some reason, you had no mate by your site yet, no alpha that had claimed you…

After that day, Ivar kept tracking your scent and looking at you from a place hidden in the shadows. It wasn’t easy. Every day he found you and the man you called your brother somewhere else. It looked like it was only the two of you, never staying anywhere more than a day.

With all those ‘visits’ it was inevitable that Ivar could keep his presence a secret. And on one surprisingly cold morning, your eyes met his when he was trying his best to hide himself behind a small bush. The frightened look you greeted him with, made him doubt himself, but he quickly got up and crawled towards you. He knew his legs could scare you off. But the man was too determined.

He wanted you. And what he wants, he gets.

Ivar’s determination was a real source of irritation for your older brother. When the two men first came face to face, he had laughed at the ‘crippled boy’ and asked you to change your mind. Still, Ivar stubbornness and capability to track the two of you down, made him change his mind. After a while, your brother had to acknowledge that whatever Ivar lacked in speed or physical appearance was nothing compared to his mind and urge to prove himself. And so, he let the two of you be.

Ivar looked up at the sky above him, snorting as he reminded himself of the unfairness in this entire story. During the past months, he had watched how his older brother Sigurd presented one gift after the other to the girl he now may call his mate. He gave her everything her heart could desire, until the day came his eyes turned red and he placed his teeth in the small bonding mark on her neck. Right now, Ivar was going through the same process. Almost every day he showed up with a small present, but to his annoyance your neck remained empty of his mark. Sighing out, he looked down to your resting figure on his chest. One of your hands was resting on his chest, playing with the collar of his shirt. A corner of his mouth turned up as the grey band on your wrist caught some sunlight, making it shine brightly. This together with the pendant around your neck were one of his many crafts that he used to keep your interest solely on him.

Ivar suddenly growled lowly, his face became dark as his whole body tensed up. If the Gods were not joking around before, then now they were straight up laughing in his face. For the only woman, aside his mother, that truly showed interest in him was you. And due to his mother’s love, he was hindered from enjoying yours.

Aslaug saw Ivar as her God, her love, her everything. And that gave him many advantages, but also held him back. A treasure is meant to be protected. And Aslaug was sure to protect hers from any potential harm.

And in her eyes, that ‘harm’ was you.

It was ridiculous to think that she saw danger in your eyes. But once convinced, it was impossible to change her mind. As a sole ruler and a woman, Aslaug may look fine and vulnerable, easy to be ignored or overthrown. But the queen has a few tricks on her sleeve to ensure her position would not be lost to the first man or woman that grew tired of her reign. She is known to be a master with words and always kept a practically close eye on her people. This together with her family heritage and famous background has allowed her to remain in the top position for all these years.

Ivar had shared this information with you but was surprised by your lack of caution. However, his mind was not eased, and his restlessness only increased. For he knew what kind of hidden power his mother possessed. She was not a witch like so many accused her of being, nor had she mages hidden in the forest with whom she could bargain with. No, her power lay in something much more simpler.

With a light chuckle, you brushed your finger along his jaw, effectively making him snap out of his racing thoughts. Ivar pursed his lips.

“You never take anything serious.” He grumbled, his eyes scanning the area while his nose tried to detect any indication of your brother, who went out hunting for food.

The small smile on your lips widened until your teeth were on full display. “I know when it’s time for fun, Ivar”

Ivar scowled and turned his head to the side.

“You should start having fun as well. Might safe your face from an everlasting scowl.”

That made Ivar growl again, although this time more playfully as he pushed you back and tried his best to hover above you. His movements were limited due to his legs. And once again, they made him hiss out in pain as he held himself up with his arms. The dark look on his face warned you not to make any bidding. And you had to bite your lip to follow his command. Ivar muffled a chuckle while he licked his lips, a futile attempt to hide his smirk.

“Oh, the things I will be able to do…” He whispered out.

Maybe it was the thoughts than immediately went through your brain or the fact that he was so close, but a tiny, almost nervous giggle passed your lips. The sound was like music to his ears and made the young wolf eyebrows raise. The confusion on his face, that only seconds ago looked so terrifying, made your laughs only increase.

Ivar dropped his head, one hand grabbed your side and squeezed lightly while his mouth curved into a smile. How was he ever going to get you under his control?

But then your sweet and light giggle got muffled by the deafening sound of a horn being blown somewhere far away. The sound made you and Ivar sit up. Your eyes dashing around in frantic search for your older brother. You hoped that whatever was out there would not get to him. While Ivar’s worst fear had come true. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up straight as he looked at you with saddened eyes. He knew what that sound meant.

Hidden in a chest in his mother’s chamber lay a long, curved horn. The object was part of her family heritage and was promised to him once he came of age. Although the object may appear fragile and uninteresting, the piece was famous for the consequences when a wolf would blow on it. A wolf trapped inside a situation where he or she can see no escape from, may blow on that horn. In that way, the Wolvenhorde, an ancient family of wolves will come to their aid. They are the most powerful and feared pack out there. And Aslaug had the power to call out for them.

With a firm grip on your arm, he turned you towards him. His face had become pale, and his nostrils flared as his voice got lower with every word that passed his lips.

“Listen. She knows. That – That horn was a signal. A signal to an ancient family. I’ve warned you of -“

You shook your head. “But, Ivar-”

“No!” He shouted. “This is chaos. You don’t get what we’re up against. You must leave. Flee. I-I” His voice broke. “I cannot protect you against them…”

A shiver went down your spine at the sight of your lover. The man sat broken on the ground; his eyes focused on the forest in front of him where the sound had come from, while his hand pushed you away from him. All this time he was dreading it, praying, and hoping to never hear that horn. He was counting the days until his eyes would turn red and he would be true alpha. Then he would be able to turn his back on this place, just like his brothers had done, and live his life like he wanted.

But now his mother had still power over him. And somehow, she had found out he had left her to be with you. She had used that horn to find her son. The Wolvenhorde was summoned. And their goal was to get rid of the thorn in her eye: you.

---

Thank you for reading xxx

Tag: @fairyofvoid​

a/n: happy matsukawa monday!! i woke up with mattsun on the brain, so here we are. when i found out he was a mortician in the timeskip i got happier than i could ever possibly explain,,, heres me going crazy about death care for .03 seconds :>

genre: fluff!!!

pairing: matsukawa issei x gn!reader

warnings: this ones gorey and the biggest part of the plot is stuff involving cadavers and the embalming process. please use caution!!

word count: 717

enjoy!!

“how’d this guy die?” you were shaving the face of an older man, probably 66-70. prepping him for the works. 

it wasn’t your first rodeo, of course being a decently credible embalmer, but you were new here. you didn’t know his way of things.

“heart attack, makki grabbed him this morning” matsukawa issei was your new boss.

he had this magnitude you had never seen in a mortician, but maybe that’s what made him good at his job. he was able to charm even the most broken, grieving souls; you’d be lying if you said you weren’t in awe of it.

“damn. who’s makki?” you continued shaving the man's face, cutting the last of the small, grey hairs that adorned his chin. his eyebrows were unruly too, you made a note of that for later.

“oh he’s my friend, i’m letting him drive the van while he’s” he paused to put air quotes around the next words “between jobs.”

you let a small giggle out, showing you heard him, “when’s the viewing for this one again?”

“tomorrow morning.”

you nodded and continued working, trimming the small eyebrow hairs, proceeding to close the eyes and mouth. your needle pierced the underside of his chin and worked the plastic thread upwards, closing the gap between his lips. the suture method.

every once in a while he’d come into your brain again; short black hair and dejected look being more alluring than you’d let yourself think. he’d bust out in laughter from the other room and you’d let a small smile fall from your lips. you felt powerful around him, his aura rubbing off on you. he laughed at your jokes and allowed you to exist in any way you liked, but you had also seen what he’s like when his power takes over the room. it was far more exciting to make his power take over the room. 

the time passed and you clocked out, eager to clean the scent of chemicals out of your clothes. you walked contently to your home, flopping your body on the couch before turning in hours later. 

no matter how many times you did it, the paranoia of something happening with the body during the viewing always loomed above your head. you’d push it down with a glass of wine, but the potential of something little going wrong never failed to worry you.

time passed and sleeps were had, waking up the next morning to a pink sunrise and a sky full of falling leaves. you wore a pair of black pants and a collared shirt, an outfit that you’d come to be confident in, even when it’s practically useless to be. you walked into the funeral home, shoes clicking loudly on the floor, into your boss, putting on his quiet but commanding wake attitude.

“how was your night, y/n?”

“fine, issei. i’ve got a lady in the back i need to sort out, but i’ll be back.” you walked past him into the place where you spent your days, and he followed close behind you, trying his best not to make a noise.

“do you want something?” you snapped slightly, but it was all from anxiety about the day ahead.

“can i kiss you?”

“excuse me?”

he took a step closer to you, eyes looking hungry and full of a wonder you had never seen in them.

“can i kiss you?”

the time passed so much slower in your head as you thought over your emotions, wondering what this would do. you couldn’t deny having even the slightest crush on him. he had power, and that excited you, but you were never expecting him to feel anything too. 

“i gues-“ you spoke quickly, but not quite quick enough for him, as he cut off your words with the impact of your lips. time moved even slower now, feeling each small tingle that made its way to the soft, pink skin. he placed his arm around your body, lifting you by your waist slightly and deepening the kiss. his other hand moved to your neck, finding its home right behind your ear. the kiss seemed to last forever, but ended with a harsh exhale and a, “they’ll be arriving soon.”

“yeah” you stuttered slightly, still in a state of shock “for sure.”

I would love to read something about peter accidentally stealing a piece of Tony’s clothing without either of them noticing, but it’s something extremely valuable and everyone else (like maybe peters friends from collage or something) notice and are very confused. Would you write something like this? (It’s totally fine if not)

This was the actual cutest idea, and I loved writing this! I hope this is the kind of cute-awkward you were going for. Thank you sm for sending me this, honey! I’m an absolute sucker for clothes sharing. This begins as unest and is AU from AOU+. Peter is 18+

The first time it happened, it was a slate grey shirt with silver-leaf decor, the front brazenly depicting a boy with a wolf’s muzzle face. There was an oil stain on the right sleeve where it fluttered about his bicep, and a charred hole on the hem where Tony had skewered it with a soldering iron. Peter had just lost his own shirt to a grinding machine, and had accepted the shirt that Tony had offered him thoughtlessly, promising to bring it back on his next visit. 

Tony had waved him off and told him not to worry - The shirt was old and he had plenty others. Peter had thought nothing of it, not bothering to change as he collapsed into his bed. He had an early lecture in the coming morning, and he’d overstayed at Tony’s. Again.

He still lacked any thought on it when he awoke to his final alarm shrieking at him insistently, and he scrambled out of bed, nearly swallowing his toothbrush as he floundered to get ready. He skid to a halt in front of his bedroom mirror, eyed what he’d gone to sleep in, and deemed it acceptable. The shirt was clean - He’d only worn it to bed that night, and his jeans surprisingly matched it well. 

It was like any other morning, until he’d been in line at the lunch hall for a coffee, and the girl walking past had stuttered to a halt, eyes wide. “Oh, my, God. Is that a Yohji Yamamoto?!” She’d squealed, eyes wide and round, and Peter had blinked across at her, sleep-dead and at a loss. “That thing is like, a thousand dollars! Its limited edition!” She continued, and Peter glanced down, ready to defend his piece of shit shirt. 

Except. 

It wasn’t just a piece of shit, ratty old shirt, was it? No, because it had come from billionaire Tony Stark’s closet. He cringed, lip curling as he stared at the shimmering silver pattern. Ah, fuck. How could he explain this? Several people had noticed her loud speech and were staring, curiosity piqued. And, why wouldn’t they? Scruffy Peter Parker in a thousand dollar shirt. 

“I don’t think so” he barked nervously, before his brain had even come up with a plausible explanation. “I got this at a thrift store! Yeah. A thrift store, so. I mean, if it looks like some fancy shirt, its definitely a knock off” he laughed nervously, clamouring desperately for his coffee before he cast her an awkward smile and shuffled off, fleeing the lunch hall. 

Luckily, he had an old zip-up in his bag, and he tugged it on over the shirt. It meant he boiled in his last classes, but nobody else asked him about his thousand dollar shirt. He drove home with the windows down and the AC on, and when he pulled up outside his apartment, he paused, and rummaged for his phone. It took almost ten minutes to find the shirt he was wearing, but when he did, he sucked in air through his teeth and shoved his phone away. Yikes. A thousand? Closer to two thousand. 

The second time it happened, Peter had been to breakfast with Tony before classes. The older man had presented him with a beautiful custom Rolex, complete with deep, red rubies and rich blue kyanite. An early birthday present Tony had said, clasping it around his wrist with a warm, satisfied smirk. Peter’s birthday was months away, but Tony wouldn’t hear anything of it. 

He’d grown so used to the weight of it in between eating and talking that he’d completely forgotten about it by the time he arrived at his morning study session, sinking down at the library table and pulling out his books. MJ was already there, and Peter offered her a shy smile as he kicked his bag under the table. They were tentative friends after getting to know each other near the end of their final year, and though Peter had outgrown his initial crush, he was still glad she’d gone to the same college as him and Ned. 

He was just pulling out a pen from his case when MJ shifted. “Hey, nerd. What’s on your wrist?” And Peter’s heart seized then skipped when he cast a careless glance aside and watched the sharp halogen lights glint off the brand new gold and precious stones. His first thought was ‘aw, fuck. Not again’ and then his second was ‘how the fuck can I explain a Rolex that costs more than this building?’ 

“Fake!” He yelped, and ducked his head when a sprightly girl two tables across leaned forwards to glare at him. “I mean, y’know. My Aunt...Bought it for me. Thought she’d found a real Rolex on Ebay for $40, y’know? Ha. Some people” he coughed to clear his throat and to hide the fact that his voice had risen several pitches before he reached for his wrist, tugging his sleeve down over it. 

When he looked up, she levelled him with a flat, unimpressed look that clearly stated she thought he was a few marbles short. He spent the rest of the study session twitchy and tense, and she spent the rest of it reading and glancing at him now and then like she was afraid he might start frothing at the mouth. When the hour was finally over, Peter ran back to his car, wrapped the watch in several soft tissues from the restroom and hid it in the glove compartment. 

MJ didn’t mention the lack of watch, but she did pointedly stare at his arm for the rest of the day. It made him prickly and jumpy; a thousand worst-case scenarios running through his mind. Nobody knew he was Spiderman, and since joining college he’d done his best to keep the ‘Stark Industries Internship’ thing on the down-low. That was relatively easy, since most people hadn’t believed it in the first place. As for Spiderman - The only people who knew were May and Ned. He kind of intended to keep it that way for as long as possible. 

He was vigilant then, for the next few weeks. He inspected himself carefully before getting out of his car at college, and he always made sure to remind Ned to remind him any time he wore anything that a struggling college student wouldn’t. All in all, after three months had passed with only a few close calls, he felt pretty secure. 

That was, naturally, his doom. 

But! In his defence, Tony Stark had kissed him. On the mouth. And not by accident, either. One moment Peter was talking about his Chemistry class and how the next Tony Stark was kissing him, lips warm and a little chapped, stubble pricking at the corners of his mouth. 

They'd kissed for almost an hour after that, gripping onto each other, learning what made the other twitch and moan. Tony liked his lip sucked and Peter liked his hair pulled and it had led to eager grinding and groping. Peter had never been more loathe to leave, but he had dinner plans with Aunt May that night. 

Their first kiss had evolved into kissing every time they were together, chaste and shy or filthy and wet like teenagers. Groping turned into Mr. Stark jacking him off and sucking him down, to Peter sucking him in return and to slowly working their way towards Peter getting done up the ass for the first time (four times, actually. Peter was insatiable and Tony had been more than happy to oblige). 

It had been a Thursday night, though, and Peter had a mid-day lecture on Friday. His own shirt had been used as a rag from the first and third rounds, so he shyly accepted when Tony offered him an old, soft black one. It was ratty and stained and he thought nothing of wearing it to his lecture, scribbling notes furiously and paying attention because they had a test in two weeks time. 

Towards the end of the lecture, he felt something brush at itch at the back of his neck, and he twisted to find the girl from the lunch hall sat directly behind him, her arm retreating. He blinked in surprise; he hadn't even recognised that she was in his class at the time. 

"You had fluff caught on your shirt" she noted casually, though her eyes were narrowed suspiciously. Peter gave her a weak smile, mouthed 'thanks' and turned back around. 

It was relatively forgotten until he was done for the day, paused near the doors to try and find his power bank. Footsteps echoed through the hall, and he looked up they stopped near him. Standing there was the girl from his class, and he offered her a warm but puzzled smile. "Hi?" He asked after a pause where she simply stared at him with folded arms. 

"I know your secret" she announced, and he nearly dropped his bag, grumbling to catch it as his heart ticked up. That could mean anything - Tony? Spiderman? Even just the spider bite could be disastrous. He'd have scientists experimenting on him and then they'd know and- 

"Secret?" He barked out a little hysterically, straightening. "What secret? I don't have any. Not any worth exploiting, anyway. I mean, I peed in the pool once, but I was six and I-" 

"I know how you're getting such expensive clothes" she interrupted, arching a brow at him, though the corner of her mouth had ticked up into a smile. 

"What? Oh, the shirt the other month? I told you, it was a knockoff" Peter stuttered nervously, and she gestured. 

"You're wearing a Gucci shirt right now". 

"What? No I'm not. Have you seen this thing?" He asked, plucking at the hem, even as he died a little inside. Was it too much to ask for Tony to shop at Target once in a while? 

"Well, it's in horrible condition, but I looked at the tag in class. I know how you're getting all this expensive stuff" she repeated, and Peter twitched a little, glancing around the hall before shuffling out of the way a little. 

"I want in" she added, following him, and he paused, blinking across at her while his coherent thoughts stuttered to a stop. 

"Uh."

"I want you to teach me". 

"...Uh…"

She rolled her eyes at him and stepped closer, lowering her voice. "I know you're a Sugar Baby, Parker. There's no other way you could afford all this stuff, and nobody puts Gucci in a thrift store. I want you to teach me how to do it. Show me what website you used or whatever". 

Peter stared at the wall over her shoulder, his thoughts effectively flat-lined. Sugar Baby? Website? Teach her? 

"Listen, I don't know who your guy is or how you did it, but clearly, he's minted. And sharing. I'm only able to work part-time around my studies, and I want in. I'm not gonna tell anyone, I'm not a bitch, I just want to be able to afford stuff" her voice softened at the end, and Peter shuffled uncomfortably, trying to kick his brain into gear. 

On one hand, she thought he was fucking an old guy for ratty Gucci shirts. On the other, this was the perfect out for all his mishaps. He considered it, head tilting as the corners of his mouth dipped down, and then he nodded. 

"Sure, why not".

A story by heroes and villains

Logan Anker: Pupil

In learning you will teach, and in teaching you will learn.

Sweets had been gushing about 10b for two years when Logan finally caved and decided to put aside his opinion on under age heroes in training and take a look for himself.

He had to admit, he seemed to be very talented. Most people had two abilities at the most.

10b, however exhibited enhanced strength and speed, flight, several shields, projectile and close combat weaponry. And he had excellent control of all of those.

He nodded to Sweets, who called out to the young hero in training as he finished off his target practice sequence.

“Good Job 10.b.” The kid, because no one could fool Logan, this child was nowhere near finishing high school, looked around and lower himself to the ground, eying Logan curiously.

Or at least, that is what Logan gathered from his body language since the protective gear was hiding the hero in training’s face.

A child. Around Virgil’s age. He might’ve be been in Virgil’s class at some point. A boy who thinks he can face what is out there. He knows Thomas hasn’t told this potential hero about Him yet.

It was Logan’s job to make sure the hero was ready for that information, for the world.

The hero was looking him up and down. Logan had updated his disguise from his old villain getup to a more inconspicuous outfit. One he could be seen wearing in the normal world, though he had it shift colors between a friendlier grey and sometimes navy blue to the deep black he chose for the meetings in the basement. His shading and voice modulating technology had gotten even better and was now integrated in his tie and his glasses. Making for a seamless transition from entering the elevator as Logan to exiting as Brainstorm.

“10.b, this is Mr. BrainStorm. He’ll be assisting us with training and provide you with the tech you need to be the best hero you can be,” Sweets explained.

The shocked reaction was expected. 10b was on edge. Logan supposed he should make him more comfortable around him if they were to work together.

“I see my reputation still manages to precede me,” he stated as calmly as he could. Though he really whished it didn’t. It’d been well over a decade since he’d done anything that made the papers in a bad way. His creations and discoveries had gotten him more than a little credit. The new police chief was actually giving him the benefit of the doubt now, while the former chief had treated him like a criminal every chance he got.

At the end it got so bad that he’d had to hold his talisman clenched in his fist every time the man was in the same building, or even on tv.

Chief Davies was firm and called him out when she needed to. But she truly did have his back when he needed her to support his ideas.

Sometimes he wished he could publish his research under his own name. He wanted Virgil to see the good he put into the world and be proud of him. But that might lead to pesky questions. Ordinary professors didn’t work on the level he did. And he couldn’t draw any attention to himself. Lest He take notice.

On the subject of his son though. Thanks to Virgil he had connected with his students a lot better the past few years. And if he was right about this boy’s age, his experiences with Virgil might help him connect with the young hero too.

“Would it be more comforting if I told you that the initials of my moniker are no coincidence?”

A second’s silence and then an artificially deepened snicker. Success.

“I suspected you might find this funny. I came up with it when I was about your age and thought it was really clever of me. Though I didn’t actually use it until I was closer to twenty.”

Logan was glad his face was hidden, because if anyone could see the pain in his eyes now…

He’d been 19 to be exact. Freshman in college, close friends with Thomas. When Caleb…

And then Helena got the diagnosis… He’d wanted to help. Needed to help.

He didn’t even talk to her long enough to let her tell him her good news… Not until that last day. And then he’d gotten mad. He’d been hurt, angry with her and himself.

And that was the last conversation he’d ever had with his big sister…

“10.b” his new pupil introduced himself as he offered his hand.

Logan appreciated the young man’s restraint. Many would ask him all about his past given the chance. But 10b didn’t. He nodded his appreciation and accepted the offered hand. “BrainStorm.”

Training 10b was a rather interesting endeavor.

Driven was one word to describe him. That much was clear. Logan tried to make him understand that even he had limits. But so far, he struggled to find one.

10b just kept outdoing himself. He was almost tempted to let him go out. But…

“So? Am I ready yet?” Even through the voice modulation Logan could hear the hopeful tone in his voice. 10b was still far too eager for approval. And that was a dangerous thing to want as a hero.

So Logan just shook his head. “No.”

The most concerning example of his stubbornness and need to prove himself was when he kept training from noon to almost midnight with almost no breaks one late summer day.

Logan would be annoyed, he would’ve liked to spend some of the last day of summer with his son, but he was more worried.

“Go home. Your body can’t keep up with your stubbornness. I’m sure you have places to be tomorrow.”

The boy grunted. “I’m not done…” he insisted.

“I am.” Logan turned and left the campus, hoping that his absence would force the boy to quit for the night.

When he arrived home, he planned to check in on Virgil who should be fast asleep at this hour, before getting to bed himself.

But instead he was tackled by his sobbing son. It’d been half a decade since Virgil had hugged him as soon as he walked through the door. After that he had started to learn that his father was not truly comfortable with physical closeness and had made an effort to at least warn him when he needed a hug.

“You are back. I thought… You’re never out this late and… I thought something bad had happened.”

Virgil rambled as he sobbed into his shirt.

“It’s okay Virgil. I’m alright. I’m sorry, I forgot to let you know work was running late.” He hated keeping secrets from Virgil. But it had regretfully become a habit of his it seemed.

He still didn’t talk about Helena or Caleb, despite the fact that Virgil had asked about them a few times in the past already. He had a right to know. But whenever he tried to talk about them to him, his throat closed up and fear and shame overtook him.

And he couldn’t even think about telling him about his powers, his mistakes and therefore his redemption or his second job. So whenever he had to train 10b he said he had to work on a project.

He’d thought Virgil had been fine. Though he noticed that he’d gotten more quiet since he started high school. In light of recent events, that might not have been just normal teenage behavior.

He had figured, if his son was struggling, he would tell him… apparently not.

“It’s alright Virgil. I’m here. We’re both alright,” he muttered.

It took him about thirty minutes to calm Virgil down.

He brought him up to his bedroom and tucked him in.

“We’ll talk about this tomorrow when you get back from school alright? Try to sleep,” he instructed.

“Okay,” Virgil murmured as he pulled the blanket closer to himself.

Before leaving in the morning, Logan checked in on Virgil and found him curled up in his bed, sound asleep. He was about to leave when he noticed Virgil was holding something. Upon closer inspection he saw that it was the old stitch doll , wearing Virgil’s comfort blanket as a cape.

Had they been moved back to the bed at some point since the last time Logan saw them on Virgil’s desk? Or was this something he only did when he needed the extra comfort?

Logan didn’t think Virgil would tell him even if he asked. So he made a note to pay more attention to the doll’s location whenever he came up to the room. If nothing else it might be an indicator to Virgil’s mood. It would be something to consider later.

In class he had a hard time concentrating. He expected as much and apologized in advance.

He greeted each class by looking through his note cards, though after the first he didn’t need to, he found that the ritual was part of the appeal for his students.

“Good day everyone. I’m afraid I’ll be a bit off my ‘game’ today. Suffice it to say, the past night was a as you say ‘big oof’,” he held up the card and flashed it to his students.

A chuckle ran through the class and he smirked, feeling a little bit better after every time.

During lunch hour he called Picani. It’d been a while, but he needed some help and another session.

“He couldn’t breathe. He was terrified. He was… I’ve never felt so helpless,” he confessed quietly.

“Well, sounds like Virgil is certainly dealing with some things. I of course can’t be sure after just this one conversation but could you answer a few questions for me?”

Logan tugged at his hair. “Yes of course.”

Picani proceeded to list a few observable behaviors, things  Logan had in fact noticed in Virgil. Small changes that just seemed logical developments from certain things he’d had since childhood. But, as it turned out…

“I would have to talk to Virgil in person to be sure. But from what you told me, he might have heightened levels of anxiety.”

Logan thought about that. That made a good amount of sense.

“Can you… I’m pretty sure he won’t want to talk about this. If he did, he would have done so already. But is there a list of some sort he could fill out? I’d like to be more certain before I bring up anxiety.”

Picani sent him a list and instructions on how to interpret them. He printed them out and was just reading through them when there was a knock on his door.

“Yes?” he called.

“Hi there Logie! How are classes going?” Patton asked as he walked in.

“Hello Patton. Classes are going satisfactory,” he informed him pleasantly.

“But…”

Logan chuckled. “Nothing gets past you does it?” Patton was a god sent. He was patient with Logan’s social ineptness and didn’t mind if he ranted about Virgil or whatever scientific article had his attention at the moment during most of their conversations. He didn’t ask about his past, he didn’t press if he didn’t want to talk about what upset him in the present. He was amazing.

Logan had fallen for Patton Bonair and hard. He felt like an idiot. Like a middle schooler unable to just tell his crush that he liked him.

But would Virgil be able to handle such a big change? Would he like Patton? Would Patton be able to handle forever having to take second place in Logan’s life?

Too many variables. Patton wouldn’t even be interested in him in the first place.

Things worked fine right now.

“Just teenage trouble. Nothing you can do about it I am afraid. How are you?” he asked. Patton nodded, accepting the change of subject.

Logan didn’t have any evening classes, and 10b had no training planned today, so he was home first and made a pot of chamomile as he waited for Virgil.

“Home!” Virgil’s voice came from the hallway followed by the sound of a closing door.

“Kitchen!” Logan replied as he poured two cups from the pot.

Virgil sat down and accepted the cup Logan handed him.

Once they both sat down Logan looked at Virgil, feeling hurt when he saw his son avoiding his eyes. When had that started? He had thought a lot about what Virgil might be going through and why he wasn’t aware until now.

He landed on the reason Virgil had given about not telling him about bullies.

“Virgil, I want you to know that you are not in trouble. I am not mad or upset with you in any way. Alright?” Virgil nodded, still not quite meeting his eyes.

Logan pressed on, speaking gently to ensure that he didn’t give Virgil the idea that he was frustrated or hurt.

“Last night… Was that the first time you went through something like that?”

What little progress Virgil had made in looking at him vanished in a second. His hands tightened around his mug. “No…” he admitted. Logan had feared as much, but still it stung to know his son had suffered on his own. Or maybe, hopefully, Janus had been there for him. Like he’d been there for the bullies.

“Sometimes I just think too much and I worry and then I freak out and… It always passes, but it’s…” His voice started shaking and Logan caught the glistening of tears in his eyes.

Logan recalled Virgil’s behavior of the night before, the thought’s he’d mentioned running through his head. Imagined being in his place.

“Frightening I’m sure.” His statement finally got Virgil to look at him. Tears still in his eyes, but more than that surprise.

“Virgil,” he began as he pushed the list and pen he’d laid ready towards him.

“I have a list for you, I’d like you to read over it and indicate next to each item how often you experience them on a monthly basis. It’s important to me that you are honest. I have a suspicion of what may be causing this, but I get that talking about it might be hard for you. Therefor I provided you with this as a way to boil it down to simple facts. Can you do this for me?” It was factual and to the point. He didn’t want to add to Virgil’s nerves by making the conversation even more emotionally charged.

Virgil nodded and accepted the paper and pen.

Logan let him fill out the list focusing on his tea. Once he heard the scribbling of the pen stop he looked up. Virgil seemed about to push the paper forward, but his whole body was tense.

His face was pulled in a frown and he was biting his lip.

Anxious about the results and his reaction?

“It’s alright Virgil,” Logan said gently. “I know I’m not always, good, at expressing my emotions, but I do love you. More than I expected to when I first agreed to take care of you. Nothing could prepare me for how much I love you and how proud I am to call you my son. Whatever you wrote down, won’t change that.”

It was a moment of unfiltered honesty and apparently that was what Virgil needed to hear.

He took a deep breath and then the paper was in front of Logan. He read it over and it became apparent rather quickly that Picani was right.

“I’m sorry you’ve been struggling with this on your own Virgil. Can I ask for how long?”

Logan dreaded the answer. But it was vital that he knew this.

“Um… start of last school year?” That wasn’t as long as Logan had feared.

“I didn’t notice it was bad until shortly after Christmas though. I was in the park and started freaking out. After that I was more aware of it I guess.” he explained.

Logan nodded, not showing his relief. When he went over external behaviors with Picani he’d come to fear that Virgil had been dealing with this for years. And perhaps he had. But he’d only known for the past eight months. Still, that was a long time to harbor such a secret from a loved one. Logan should know. Every day that he didn’t tell Virgil the whole truth about himself pressed like a heavy weight on his chest.

“Why did you feel like you couldn’t tell me this?” he asked worriedly.

Virgil squirmed in his seat. “I… I wanted to… but then I started freaking out about freaking you out and…” Logan was about to try and talk Virgil through a breathing exercise he’d researched but Virgil already centered himself with a deep breath and a slow sip from his tea to give himself time to calm down. “I just figured I could deal.”

That was understandable. Logan had certainly used similar reasoning in the past in order not to burden Thomas, or his sister… That had not ended well for him though. And he would not let Virgil suffer because of a misplaced need for independence.

He had tried to teach him to ask for help when he needed it when Remus was taken out of school. But it clearly hadn’t sunk in.

“Virgil, I think you might suffer from heightened levels of anxiety. That doesn’t mean there is anything wrong with you. I would like for you to talk to someone about it though. If only to help you figure out a way to handle these attacks and the thoughts that come with this better so it doesn’t have to interfere too much with your life. Does that sound agreeable?”

“A shrink?” Virgil asked nervously.

Logan was glad he had so much practice keeping his emotions in check. He had perhaps been a bit too vigilant in shielding Virgil from his problems. “I know there is a stigma against it…” He had to do this. If he wanted Virgil to trust him on this, to open up more to him in general. Then he had to open up first. “But my psychiatrist has helped me a great deal with your mother’s death. I hope he, or one of his colleagues help you with your anxiety.”

“You… you went to therapy?” Virgil’s shock was proof that he had probably done too well of a job of seeming put together and in control at all times. He did it to assure Virgil of a stable figure to rely on. But he had deprived him of someone able to truly understand emotional vulnerability it seemed. “Still do from time to time,” he nodded, recalling the appointment he had scheduled for the weekend, making a note to announce it as such when he left. Perhaps he should have normalized his visits to doctor Picani the same way he’d normalized his attraction to men.

Virgil seemed to seriously consider his request now that he knew his father had a history of going to therapy.

“Okay…” he finally said, much to Logan’s relief. “just… can this stay between you and me?” Logan wanted to question why Virgil felt the need to hide this from Janus. Thomas he could understand. Virgil’s honorary uncle was of the helpful sort and might fuss about Virgil just a bit too much. But surely having a friend at school who knew about the potential for attacks and the ways to treat them could be beneficial?

He held these questions back though. Mental health was like your sexuality in that regard. It had to be your own choice when you told who about what parts of yourself. Including the reason you aren’t ready to tell your best friend you are struggling with certain issues.

“If that makes you more comfortable.”

“Thanks,” Virgil smiled before leaving the table with his  tea to make homework in his room. Picani planned in a two hour take in session for Virgil early October.

In the meantime Logan paid extra attention to Virgil’s behavior. Trying to stay vigilant without becoming overbearing. It was hard, but he felt like he managed not to overstep.

He checked in with Virgil every night and found that indeed, Stitch only occasionally ended up in the bed. Usually preceded by a very quiet evening.

So Logan made an effort to coax Virgil into talking to him more when he seemed to hide in his own head. Sometimes he was successful. Other times Virgil asked him to let him just be for the evening and Logan backed off.

Picani managed to soothe Logan’s worries about being a bad father. Normal behavior for this age and such. They did discuss the possibility that Virgil might need some more affirmation. While they deduced that Virgil expressed his love through acts of service and gift giving. He usually paired those with clear verbal statements of his feelings and intentions. Possibly because he himself struggled to ‘assume’ that any action was made with the intention of showing love or appreciation.

The month progressed and when Logan dropped Virgil off for his first session he was probably as nervous as Virgil. He wanted to blow of some steam, but he held firm in his decision to never use that part of his abilities again. So instead he went for a run. By the time he was freshened up it was time to pick Virgil up. Sure, his son was old enough to take the bus, but he remembered how much his own first meeting with Picani had affected him and how intense the man’s idea of a good first impression was.

So he wanted to make sure Virgil was comfortable afterwards.

To his relief Virgil had ended up liking Picani. A second appointment was made for the next week and Virgil actually opened up a bit more after that. He started showing his drawings again, he hadn’t been comfortable sharing his art in what felt like forever.

And Logan must say, though he was never very creative or in touch with art, he could see that Virgil had talent. He could discern the patterns in the pencil lines and could see which sketches were made absentmindedly and which had been drawn in moments of tension. Each and every one though, without fail, was something Logan couldn’t phantom creating himself. He told Virgil as much and it made his son happy.

The name Roman started coming up in conversations again. Apparently he was Virgil’s lab partner this year and if the way his son seemed to struggle not to smile when talking about him was any indication, the crush Logan had suspected in middle school had returned. Or maybe it never faded in the first place.

10b was still training hard to become a hero and still eager to try his skills out in the real world. Logan was starting to worry he might run out of logical reasons to deny him this soon.

“We are done today,” he decided one Saturday afternoon.

“What? No! Why!?” the boy demanded.

Logan sighed and crossed his arms in front of him, taking a resolute stance. “Because, if you are going to be a hero any time soon you’ll have to learn to balance out your hero duties and your own life. School, work, friends, family…” If he’d been better at that aspect things would have ended up differently.

“Sweets and Manifestor both already left to return to their lives. You and I should do the same.” He didn’t wait for a reply and left. Virgil would be returning home from his appointment soon and Logan wanted to be there for him should it have been a difficult session.

Once he got upstairs he received a message from the front desk.

‘There is a young man who claims to be your son waiting for you.’

Logan smiled as he read this. He was glad Virgil had chosen to seek out his presence rather than just taking the bus home.

When he approached the front desk though he could hear the sound of sharp intake of breath, stuttering gasps and high pitched attempts at vocalization.

He was transported back to that terrible night and set of in a sprint.

“Virgil!” he called out, hoping his son would register and identify his voice and calm down.

He rounded the corner and found Virgil doubled over, gesturing frantically with his hand.

He rushed over and grabbed it. “Virgil if you can hear me, squeeze my hand,” he instructed.

“Fine, fine,” he gasped with a squeeze.  Then he said something but Logan could only make out the words “Cant” and “God”.

“Virgil, are you having an attack?” he asked worriedly.

Much to his relief Virgil shook his head before starting to take in slow, deep breaths.

Once he had control over his breathing he whipped at his eyes smearing his running make up even more.

When Virgil looked up he had the widest grin. “You are using the vocab cards.”

Logan cocked his head, confused about why that was so funny.

“Of course. They were a gift from you, why wouldn’t I use them at any opportunity?”

How did he even learn this information?

A muffled squeal answered that question. Logan didn’t even need to look up to know who this was. Patton. Patton met Virgil and talked to him and apparently made him laugh so hard he could barely breathe. Patton had been talking about him with his son.

Virgil luckily snapped him out of his mild gay panic.

“Yes, because you were complaining about not understanding some of the things your students were saying. I didn’t expect you to actually start yeeting your trash,” he chuckled.

Now, Logan was pretty sure Virgil was aware of the nuances of modern slang. He did take meticulous care of making the cards and the updates on every gifting opportunity on top of whatever ‘real’ present he’d gotten him.

Virgil might have just been joking, with little care for accuracy. Regardless Logan adjusted his glasses and looked his son in the eye before informing him that: “Yeet is for distance. For trash I need accuracy, therefore the term used is ‘cobi’.”

And just like that Virgil was doubled over again, though this time the laughter died out on it’s own much sooner.

He straightened himself and addressed Patton with a smile.

“Anyway, great meeting you Patton. It’s good to know dad has someone so nice looking out for him.”

And then, out of nowhere he turned back to him. “You should invite him over for dinner some time. He’s a lot of fun.”

Logan felt his face flush. What? When? Did Virgil just…“Well, you two talk about that, I’m going to wash my face.” Before Logan could collect himself enough his son was out of sight. In hindsight it was foolish to think that Virgil had given up his matchmaker tendencies.

He simply hadn’t had any targets until now. Logan had hoped that after he and Thomas had a fight about the later’s attempt at setting him up with Sweets of all people for some unknown reason, Virgil had come to understand that he simply was not interested in dating anyone. Apparently not. And Virgil had just basically asked Patton out for him.

He looked over to Patton, about to make excuses for his son but then froze. Patton was blushing and playing with his sweater sleeves.

“Patton are you alright?” he hoped Virgil hadn’t made him uncomfortable? What had been said before he arrived?

“Will you have dinner with me?!” Patton blurted out.

Logan blinked in shock. “As… Like…”

“A date! I’m asking you out on a date,” Patton clarified.

Patton wanted to go out with him? “That would be acceptable,” he nodded.

Patton’s face brightened. “Great! Pick you up next Saturday around six? I’ll call you with the details,” he suggested. Logan nodded. “Yes. I’ll see you on Monday.”

“Right! At work. Right here… Bye!” Patton giggled before walking off.

Logan meanwhile was trying not to lose his mind over this.

“Dad?”

Virgil had returned while Logan had stood here frozen for who knows how long.

“Dr. Bonnaire asked me on a date,” he breathed, still wrapping his head around that fact.

“I think you can call him by his first name if that’s the case.” Logan couldn’t see him right now but he was sure his son was finding this funny.

“I… I suppose…” He had a point. Not that he hadn’t been on a first name basis until now. But… Well he always called him by his last name whenever anyone else was around.

It was a habit he couldn’t quite explain.

“You did say yes right?” He must look really out of it. To be honest, Logan was starting to doubt if the last two minutes really happened.

“I… yes, I don’t know what came over me… I’ve never…” After over a decade of  telling himself that he had no time… No business having a romantic relationship…

“Wait… you’ve never been on a date?” Virgil gasped incredulously.

“Not like this!” he clarified frantically as he gestured wildly. Last time…

“Last time, I was an arrogant college student who felt like he had to answer to no one but himself. Now, I am a single father, going out with a coworker. This is an adult outing. I can’t just…” How to even explain his dilemma?

“You really like this guy huh?” Virgil’s voice became soothing, sympathetic.

The flutter of butterflies and the flush of color on his face probably told Logan enough.

Logan sighs and nods with a blush. “He’s so patient and friendly and… I just never thought he could ever…”

“Now stop it right there,” Virgil snapped sternly. “Me turning out like a somewhat stable person, proofs you are awesome. And you just showed him all the reasons why he should date you while taking care of me. You’re welcome by the way. Patton is cool. He’s already met your kid and passed the test. The scariest bit is over.”

That finally caught Logan’s attention. He turned towards his son, who had washed off all make up from his face, and grabbed his shoulders to convey how serious he was.

“You’re really fine with me going out with him? With me possibly entering a romantic relationship?”

Virgil shrugged. “I mean, I’m not a fan of the change, but I want you to be happy. And if Patton is your pick… I wouldn’t have suggested he come over for dinner if I didn’t like him.”

Virgil was doing his best to sound casual about it, but Logan was filled with unmatched joy. He found that words alone were not sufficient to convey his feelings. So he hugged him tight. “I am fortunate to have you as a son,” he told him sincerely.

Virgil shoved him away, blushing awkwardly. Logan didn’t take it personally. It was his own fault that Virgil didn’t know how to react to him initiating physical contact.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever Logie.” What? Had Patton… Oh god. Virgil was much too pleased with Logan’s flustered reaction.

“Let’s go home,” he suggested with a smirk before heading to the parking lot.

Things changed over the next week. He and Patton engaged in more flirty conversation and it had his stomach in knots and his heart racing. But he didn’t mind that too much. Logan was pretty sure Thomas caught on, but he was kind enough not to mention it.

And then Halloween came around. Virgil’s favorite holyday.

They always dressed up together to hand out candy and Logan wondered if next year there would be an extra costume to be put together.

Virgil had been adjusting store bought costumes and doing their make up with enthusiasm ever since he outgrew trick or treating. He’d gotten quite good. From the start of September he’d be designing, sowing and practicing. The past two years it was the only time Logan saw his eyes light up again like they used to all the time when he was little.

This year, Virgil came home beaming.

“And so then I said ‘but ruling sounds like a lot of work’ and everyone laughed!”

Virgil was glowing as he told the story of how Roman had pulled him into a little improvisation.

“You should bring this boy over some time,” Logan suggested. Virgil’s hand, which had been turning him into a zombie professor, froze near his throat.

“I… We’re not… I mean he doesn’t…. We aren’t that close,” Virgil stammered. Logan let it go. Virgil wasn’t ready yet.

Logan had other worries that weekend than Virgil maybe trying to catch the eye of his classmate.

He was checking his tie for the millionth time and Virgil was wordlessly handing him the things he’d forgotten. Keys, wallet, phone…

He was a mess. “You look great dad,” Virgil assured him as he smoothed out his jacket for him. “He’s going to be blown away.”

“What would I do without you?” Logan wondered.

“Still pine from a distance I’m guessing,” Virgil smirked and just then the bell rang.

Logan took a deep breath, checked his pockets one last time and opened the door.

God, Patton looked so good in formal wear. He always looked charming, but now…

“Hya Logie! Hey Virgil! Thanks for letting me steal your dad for the night.” Patton winked.

“Hey Pat,” Virgil greeted.

Logan looked back with worry. “Are you sure…” he started, suddenly not comfortable with leaving his son alone for the night.

“Yes!” Virgil groaned with a roll of his eyes. “Just have a nice time. Text when you arrive at the restaurant and when you leave. I don’t have school tomorrow so don’t hurry home. Pat, steal his phone if he checks it even once during dinner.” Virgil was practically pushing him out the door at this point.

“I will,” Patton winked.

“Good, you crazy kids have fun and don’t do anything you wouldn’t want me to do.”

Logan flushed. “Virgil!” he chastised.

“Love you too!” he shouted as he shut the door in their faces.

Logan felt something twist in his stomach. Was Virgil trying to make sure he didn’t chicken out? Or… No. Virgil wouldn’t go behind his back.

“Logan?” Patton pressed gently.

He took a deep breath and smiled at his date… His date. The smile that appeared at that thought was almost painful.

“Apologies. Father instincts,” he shrugged by ways of explanation.

Patton giggled and hooked their arms together. “Don’t worry Logan. You’ve raised a wonderful boy. I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

“Yes, you are right. Let’s enjoy our evening.”

The restaurant was lovely, the food delicious, and the company perfect.

Patton didn’t need to steal his phone, though Logan was always aware of its presence in his pocket. They talked about much more personal things than he’d ever allowed for at work. He learned about Patton’s love for animals and his ongoing battle with the kitchen, though he was good at baking for some reason.

Patton learned about his fascination with everything space related. They discovered they both loved Sherlock.

Patton really loved his puns. Something Logan found both endearing and frustrating. But he was sure his rants about complicated subjects could be a bit annoying from time to time too. They had fun discussing a few philosophers together and before they knew it it was time to pay. Logan texted Virgil as they waited for the bill.

“I had a really great time tonight,” Patton told him on the ride home.

“As did I. I’m glad you asked me out,” Logan nodded.

“Me too.”

And then they parked in front of the house. Logan spotted slight movement at the curtain of the neighbors. Celine was a curious person but she could keep a secret. He was sure she would ask him all about Patton next time they crossed paths, but he also knew that unless he told her it was okay, her husband nor her son would hear about his new relationship from her.

The lights in his own home seemed to be off. Virgil was probably in his room.

He cleared his throat. “So I guess now it is my turn. Next Friday? There is an exhibit I wanted to visit and I would very much like for you to accompany me.”

Patton smiled. “It’s a date.”

Logan nodded and left the vehicle with a final ‘good night’.

He had wanted to kiss him. Very much so. But he didn’t feel they were ready for it just yet.

Maybe after a second successful date.

When he got to Virgil’s room he noticed that the light was still on, so to be safe he gave a gentle knock on the door. A pause. “Come in.”

When he opened the door he saw Virgil was sitting on his bed, his headphones around his neck and his hair a mess. He’d been listening to music.

“You should be asleep,” he pointed out. It was rather late. He should at least have been trying.

“I wanted to make sure I could tell you good night. How was it?”

Virgil tried to be casual, but Logan could hear how tense he was. Whether it was worry or excitement, he wasn’t sure. Either way, it told him Virgil had worried about his night going well and that meant a lot. But Logan was not going to risk keeping Virgil up even later by rambling about the date.

“I will brief you in the morning. Now you should get adequate rest. Sleep deprivation is detrimental to both your physical health and creativity.”

“Okay, night dad,” he muttered in surrender as he got up to get ready for bed.

“Night Virgil… I love you.” He’d gotten much better at saying the words over the last month and he could see Virgil appreciated the effort.

“Love you too dad,” he smiled gently. And with that Logan closed the door.

How did he end up this lucky?

@moonlightshow00​ @naturallyunstablegamer​ @alias290​ @meowthefluffy​ @frida0043​ @angelic-cali​ @selenechris​

5) Let them go.

Masterlist

Love You More

Pairing: Jaehyun x Reader

Genre: smut, a little bit of fluff at the end

Summary: You hadn’t seen Jaehyun in a while and decided to give him a treat. When he arrived, the surprise was definitely worth it. 

TL;DR: Soft smut with Jaehyun is everything

You were on your hands and knees on the bed, patiently waiting for Jaehyun to come home. He had texted you earlier in the day to tell you that he was coming back early due to an unexpected clearing in the schedule. You decided to give him a pleasant surprise, due to the fact that the two of you barely spent any time together since he began promoting his new album. Of course, what better way to surprise him than to wear your sexiest lace set, turn the lights down, and see the surprise on his face morph into lust? 

As you heard the front door close, your heart race accelerated in anticipation. You hoped that the setup was not too abrupt and started getting a little self conscious at your choices. That was, until you heard a sharp gasp from the open door. “Baby-”

“Hi,” you let out shyly, a stark contrast from your current appearance. “Welcome home!”

“Baby, you look so good. You’re so good for me.” He walked up to you in bed and lifted your face for a chaste kiss, not wasting a second to deepen it before stepping back and removing his black shirt. His grey sweatpants slowly started forming into a tent, alerting you of his eagerness. 

“How was your day?” You asked, shifting so you could face him.

He let out a deep throaty laugh as he joined you in bed. “Oh, it was crazy, but nothing unusual. We attended a radio show in the afternoon, but the morning was an interesting dance practice.” Lacing your fingers in his, you moved closer to him.

Jaehyun let out an appreciative hum as he reconnected your lips and unclipped your bra slowly. “Mm, so nice.” You let out a giggle when your lips parted. He was showering you with praises today and you found it so endearing. 

“You’re in a good mood,” you stated. 

“How could I not be when I have the most beautiful person in the world with me?” 

You nearly swooned at that and felt your cheeks heating up. “Sir, have you looked in the mirror? You’re the most handsome one here.”

He let out a growl and quickly flipped you in the position that you had originally started in, ass up, face down. Jaehyun yanked your lace panties down and threw them somewhere over his back. “No, you’re the prettiest. Can’t fight me on that.” He let out a groan as he looked at you. “Ugh, so wet for me. So good for me.” 

You let out a soft moan at the compliments and wiggled your ass at him teasingly. “Then do something.” He laughed at your neediness, but he wasn’t one to judge you, especially by how painfully tight his sweats were at this point. He quickly took it off, leaving him bare for you to see. You attempted to turn around to look at him, but he quickly shoved your head back down. 

“No looking. Sweetheart, I’m gonna make you feel good, okay?” You hummed. “Use your words,” he clarified. 

“Yes,” was the only word you could reply before you felt his fingers tracing your opening, letting out a loud moan. 

“Look at you. Practically dripping around my fingers. I love that. Can you hear this?” He slipped two fingers easily in you, producing loud squelching noises that only served to turn you on. 

“Please, I want you in me,” you murmured impatiently. 

“Condom?” He asked, taking his fingers out and rubbing his hard length against you. 

“I’m on the pill. It’s okay,” you urged, grinding your hips against his in search for some friction to release. Jaehyun hissed at the contact and then slowly pushed his way into you. As he was doing this, he leaned forward to press a kiss at the juncture between your shoulder and your neck. You could feel his front completely cover your back as he bottomed out. 

You sighed and pushed back on him when the slight prickling pain disappeared. “More, please,” you begged. He moved his head to kiss your cheek and complied, lazily thrusting his hips to meet yours. You could feel his length grazing your walls and let a groan. 

“So tight,” he commented. Jaehyun moved his head from your neck and gently raised his hand to turn your jaw to the side and gave an open mouthed kiss, which you happily reciprocated. The hand that was on your jaw moved steadily to your neck, applying the right amount of pressure. 

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you began feeling the tight coil in your gut start to unravel. “Right there. Ah, that’s-” You started speaking incoherently, feeling your release approaching.

“Mm, baby, you’re so beautiful like that.” You felt his fingers tighten around your neck. The other hand holding your hips would surely leave a bruise in the morning, but for now, you didn’t mind it. “I’m so glad I met someone like you, baby. You’re so perfect. Oh my, fuck,” he let out a deep groan as your walls squeezed around him.

He didn’t seem to be in the mood to take things slow anymore, wanting to feel both of you unravel at the same time. He picked up the pace, the sound of his skin slapping yours resounding loudly in the room. Jaehyun’s breath was hot on your ears as he let out the most beautiful sounds. 

It didn’t take long for either of you to reach your peaks. His hips stuttered as he came into you, grunting softly while muttering praises into your ears about how you felt so good and how lucky he was to have you. You weren’t in any different state, hands collapsing under his weight and legs shaking at the intensity of your orgasm. 

He rode out your highs before slowly slipping out of you and grabbing a wet towel off of the bedside table. “Baby, you were prepared, weren’t you.” He breathlessly noted as he cleaned both of you gently. 

You weakly nodded before trying to get off of the bed. “Wait, hold on. I’ll help you up.” He threw the towel into the laundry basket before lifting you up princess style and helping you go to the bathroom. You did your business and he smiled at you as he handed you clothes to wear, a.k.a. one of his t-shirts that you loved. You thanked him and quickly put it on, walking with him back to bed. 

As you both settled into bed, he spooned you and grabbed your face in his hand before nuzzling his nose with yours. “What did I do to get so lucky with you?” You blushed at this compliment before pecking his lips. 

“Stop, I’m the lucky one.”

“No you,” he joked. 

“No you!” 

After bickering for a little while, you felt your eyelids closing. His arms tightened around your waist and he began to softly snore, you following asleep shortly. 

Two Burning Hearts Are Dared to Break (JJ x OC) Ch. 9

Chapters: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10

In which Elle and JJ fight over her budding relationship with Rafe, aka angst.

A/N: The Pogues don’t know that Rafe killed Sheriff Peterkin for the premise of this story so Elle and the others think he’s *innocent*.

This chapter ended up being really long so I split it into 2 parts and the 2nd part should be up in the next few days!

Word count: 1.7k

Arriving at the dump of a house that Barry called home, or as others liked to call it, the coke den, Elle took in a deep breath, holding it for a second or two before letting it out. Hopping out of the car, she stormed up the driveway past the overgrown lawn and random pieces of furniture stewed around the yard.

The door swung on its hinges and Elle entered, Barry rising to his feet as if he was used to this kind of entrance, “Yo, what’re you doing!”.

“Where’s JJ, Barry?”, she demanded, acting much tougher than she felt.

She watched his mouth turn up into a slimy smirk, “Oh here for Maybank. What a lucky guy, coming here to rescue him,”, he paused, dragging his eyes up her body, resting on her chest for a moment before continuing. “He must have your sweet body on demand any time he likes to repay you for all the times you save his ass, huh? Tell me I'm right.”

A chill ran down her back, disgusted by his demeanor. “You’re a pig.” she scoffed, looking around the house before finding the back door. She wasted no time in pushing past him, bumping his shoulder on the way out the door.

Like always, her eyes found him immediately, in the corner of the garden pulling out weeds. His grey shirt billowed out behind him in the wind, his hair held back by his blue hat as his dirt covered hands worked on manoeuvering the weed out of the ground. She made her way over to him, trying to keep her strong attitude in his presence, “Come on Jay, you don't need to be here anymore, let's go”.

His head shot up, recognising her voice before seeing her. Oh god what was she doing here. JJ’s seen the way people act around here, and even worse, how they get treated by Barry. Turning to look at her, he took in her crossed arms, and pursed lips. He always thought she looked adorable when she was trying to act tough but right now, he was too concerned about the fact that she was actually standing in front of him, in the coke den’s yard, with Barry watching her from the deck with narrowed eyes and a creepy grin. He stood to her height, wiping his hands on his soiled shorts and reaching out to her with his hand, “Elle, please leave, you shouldn't be here”.

Brushing off his hand, she let out a short chuckle, “Yeah and neither should you”.

For the first time in too long, JJ’s eyes connected with Elle’s, pleading her to leave. It usually didn’t take much for either of them to give in when looking into each other's eyes, but his cerulean eyes weren’t going to make her surrender this time.

“I’ve payed him back. Get your shit and let’s go.”

JJ did a double take, “You did what?”, he asked, taking a step closer to her, his face heating up, “I don't need you to pay off my debts Elle”, he said, placing emphasis on her name.

Elle rolled her eyes, she shouldn’t really be surprised though, after all, she knew how much he hated her fighting his battles for him.“You really think he's going to let you leave once you've paid him back JJ? I know you like to play dumb but come on, give yourself some credit”.

They held eye contact as her words sunk in. She was right. Of course she was. She was always right. And JJ hated that. He hated how she knew what to say and exactly when to say it, how she could calm him down just with a few words, and rile him up with even less. For pretty much any situation, she was right, unless it was about anything to do with cars or boats or fishing.

Barry broke up staring contest butting in, “Yo JJ, it’s alright, you can leave now. Your girl gave it all back”, holding up the bag of cash in one hand, “and then some”, he added, throwing in a slimy wink.

In a split second JJ was in his face, holding him with two hands by the fabric of his shirt. “Look at her like that ever again and I’ll make sure she’s the last thing you see with those eyes, you piece of shit!”, he spat, shoving Barry away from him. “And stop selling coke to my Dad, he’s reselling it for more than you’re charging”, he added, trying to rile him up. His Dad would never sell his coke, unless it was for a larger amount. But JJ knew the only way to get Barry to stop selling it was if he thought that Luke was profiting off it more than Barry was.

He felt Elle’s presence behind him, turning to her and signalling with a nod to follow him out. They thought they were in the clear as they made their way up the driveway to her car, until they heard him yell out with a teasing tone, “Hey, Rafe told me about your little rendez vous the other night Elle! If I were you, I’d be careful there sweetheart!”.

She flipped him off with both hands, feeling her stomach flip, god Rafe has a big mouth. JJ didn’t seem to react until they had both hopped into her car and began heading out of Barry’s, onto the road back to Figure Eight.

“You’ve been hanging out with Rafe?”, he asked incredulously, a slight tone of accusation slipping through.

She sighed, fed up with their constant back and forth arguing lately, “No, I haven’t”, she replied, hoping to cut this conversation topic short.

“Then what was he was talking about?”, he pressed, eager to know the truth.

Elle’s eyes remained on the roach but she could feel him staring at her side profile. “It’s nothing JJ! I bumped into him the other night and we had a conversation, that’s it”.

He let out a sarcastic chuckle, not believing her blatant lie, “Yeah that’s great Elle, fraternizing with the enemy”.

“He’s not the enemy JJ, he’s a fucked up kid who just lost his sister, one of our best friends might I add”, she responded quickly, the reality of the situation being apparently lost on him.

“Yeah who almost tried to kill us Elle!”, his voice raised, becoming more frustrated with what he was hearing, “Did you forget about that huh? When he had his hands wrapped around Kie’s throat, or when he pushed you into a wall and bruised your entire fucking body? Do you not remember that? Or do you just not care?”.

She tried to remain calm but her voice was rising too, “Of course I fucking remember it JJ!”

“Then why isn’t that enough!”, he exclaimed. “Why isn’t that enough to keep you away from him?!”.

Elle finally turned to look at him before turning her attention back to the road. Leveling out her voice, she calmly responded “Look, I found him drunk on the beach, the night of…”, she paused, unsure of how to address it, “the night of our fight. We had a conversation, I called Topper and he came and got him, nothing happened, end of story”.

Jj nodded his head, looking down at his lap. He wasn’t sure if he fully believed her, or if she was telling the truth or not, but JJ could count on one hand how many times they’d lied to each in the past. Sure they lied all the time to get themselves out of trouble or get some time to hang out away from the other Pogues when they’d missed each other. But it wasn’t something they did. They’d never had a reason to lie to each other, however, JJ couldn't help the niggling thought that maybe, after everything that's happened, and how much they'd been arguing recently, maybe that had changed.

They let silence fill the car. They needed to take a breather after the intensity of that emotional outburst. Elle debated in her head on what to say next, settling on “What do you care anyway”.

Emotions rised again once JJ let out another chuckle, bewildered at her question, “Really, Elle? Are you really asking me that?”.

Elle kept her hands on the wheel, glad that she had something to focus on right now so that she wouldn't have to see his real-time reactions. “Oh I’m sorry Jay, but the last time we talked you made it pretty apparent that you wanted nothing to do with me”, she quick fired back, sarcasm levels at an all time high.

“And yet, here you are”, he muttered, loud enough for her to hear.

She tried to contain the burst of anger that shot through her veins after hearing that. Instead deciding to change the topic, “Yeah because I have some information on the police investigation we’re involved in, just thought you might like to know about that”.

“What information?”, he calmly responded, the energy in the car changing drastically from sarcasm to curiosity.

“Shoupe is investigating you and Pope further because he doesn’t believe Kie and I, and he’s pulling up anything you can and will be charged for”.

Looking out the window, he removed his hat, playing with it in his hands, “For fuck’s sake”, he let out a sigh, placing the hat back on, “this isn’t going to end well is it?”.

“Pretty sure you can answer that question by looking at what’s already happened”.

Elle expected him to say something. Anything. To discuss the investigation further, and ask her everything she knew, or ask him what he should do to get out of this mess. She was secretly hoping he might ask her how she’s going, or bring up John B and how much he misses him, or that he can’t believe this has happened.

A ringing sound filled the car as Elle’s pocket vibrated, her phone connected to her cars bluetooth interrupting her train of thought. “Topper Thornton calling” displayed clearly on the screen.

“Topper? Why the fuck is Topper calling you?”.

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