#also the mouths are wide enough for a 1 cup measuring cup!!! so i can actually keep flour in em unlike my walmart ones

[six-of-ravens]

Aren't they so friggin cute??!!

#theres 4 of the pink ones in various sizes #those will hold flour coffee and sugar bc the seals are intact #also the mouths are wide enough for a 1 cup measuring cup!!! so i can actually keep flour in em unlike my walmart ones #the white and yellow ones dont have as tight seals but were too cute to pass up. but I'll find something to keep in em lol #they all went through the dishwasher for Sanitizing but need another scrub to get the stickers and grease pencil off

[bakedbakermom]

Stained

Chapter 2: Sedulous // start at the beginning

tagging @today-in-fic @ao3feed-msr

sedulous adjective 1. constant in effort 2. accomplished with careful perseverance --- Research and ruminations.

God, they’re barely more than children , Scully thought, not for the first time, then chided herself for being so dismissive. Mulder trusted them, had known them—at least online—for years, and had vouched for them dozens of times. It wasn’t like her to doubt his contacts and sources. Lord knows the Lone Gunmen had looked every bit as unimpressive at first, and they had come through for them more times than she could count. Deep Throat had given his life for them. Hell, even Bambi Barenbaum had proven herself useful once or twice.

Still, as she listened to them argue, she couldn’t help but wonder if this whole endeavor was doomed.

“I’m just saying, Silence Clarice was lucky Hannibal was behind glass the whole time.” Xander tossed a piece of popcorn in the air, lunged for it with his mouth wide open, and missed. “He would have snapped her like a twig.”

Buffy picked up the fallen kernel and threw it without looking up from her book; it hit him squarely in the eye and he gave a startled yelp. “Small is scrappy, Xander. Don’t make me prove it to you.”

“And it’s just such a classic,” Tara added, face half hidden behind her hair. She put a hand on Willow’s arm. “Sweetie, you know I love the gingers, but you can’t argue the first one still keeps you up at night.”

“Only ‘cause of the thing with the puppy,” Willow conceded.

“Really?” said Buffy. “The whole graphic disembowelment thing doesn’t get to you?”

“I like puppies.”

“I liked that Hannibal fellow,” Anya chirped from behind the counter, where she was sorting a shipment of what looked suspiciously like mummified spider legs, if spiders were the size of golden retrievers. “He had a real flair for vengeance.”

Definitely doomed.

Scully leaned back in her chair and pinched the bridge of her nose. Three hours of pouring through dusty, mildewed tomes while a gaggle of twenty-somethings bickered about pop culture was enough to make anyone’s head pound, even if they hadn’t just donated a couple pints to their newly vampiric partner.

She and Mulder had stopped at a drugstore on their way into town—he stayed in the car rather than face the fluorescent lights—so she could properly bandage her wounds with gauze and some antibiotic ointment. At his insistence, she had also bought a bottle of painkillers and taken two, but the medicine was doing nothing for the throbbing behind her eyes.

“Here,” Giles said, chuckling as he set a mug of tea in front of her. “Trust me, it helps.”

Scully smiled her gratitude and raised the cup to her lips. It was sweeter than she expected, rich with cream, and she lifted her eyebrow at Giles as she sipped. “I thought you Brits looked down on people who don’t take their tea black.”

His eyes traveled meaningfully from her neck, to her arm, and then back to her face. “Trust me. It helps.”

Oh. “Thank you.”

Giles moved so his body blocked her sight of the kids at the other end of the table, giving them some measure of privacy. “Are you all right?” he asked delicately.

Scully bit back her first response; she was well aware of her own penchant for denial when it came to her health, mental or physical. She would say she was fine until her mouth was too full of blood and broken teeth to speak. But the old man was looking at her with such kindness in his eyes, such understanding, that she felt her veneer crack. “No,” she said softly, setting down her mug. The sweetness of it was suddenly too cloying, its herbal aftertaste too much like swallowing graveyard dirt. “And neither is Mulder. I know you’ve been corresponding for years, but I see him every day. You never saw the man he was, and what he’s become now… I don’t know how much longer he can stand it. How long I can.”

“A vampire ensouled is a creature of grief and pain, a demon’s lust for death crippled by human empathy and guilt. I’ve known only one other, and even after centuries to adjust, he was tormented; but he used that torment to do a great deal of good. It’s true Mulder may never be the same, but he can still have a worthwhile life.”

“Centuries,” Scully breathed. “If we don’t find a way to help him, he’ll really..?”

“As long as he avoids sunlight and getting on Buffy’s bad side, he could live forever.”

She thought of the pain in her partner’s eyes, the shameful way he licked her blood from his lips, his cold skin with a monster burrowing beneath it. She imagined him living in darkness, forever, watching as everyone he’d ever known or loved withered and died. He had already lost so much—his father murdered, his mother who took her own life, his sister whom he had lost once and then a hundred times more. What would be left of him when nothing at all of his human life remained? She shuddered.

“And these… kids? They can actually help?”

“I know they look young, Miss Scully. God do I know,” he said, leaning his hip against the table as he sipped from his own mug of tea. “But these strange, loud, infuriating people have been through more than you or I can imagine. If anyone can find something to help your partner, I trust it would be them.”

“You really mean that, don’t you?”

Giles lowered his voice, though the others were unlikely to hear him over their own excited noise. ��Xander is the smartest idiot I’ve ever known, though I’ll deny that completely if you ever tell him. Anya has witnessed a thousand years of human and demonic history. Willow is an actual genius, and beyond that she and Tara are intensely powerful witches. And Buffy…”

Sadness and pride passed over his features—a look she remembered seeing on her own father’s face during those sweet, fleeting moments when parents realize their children are growing up. It made her heart ache. “Buffy is a hero. It’s in her bones to help, to save. She wouldn’t surrender even if her life depended on it. Especially then, in fact.”

He rested a warm hand on her shoulder. “Don’t give up on our man just yet.”

He smiled as he watched the group around the table chatter away, the very picture of the indulgent patriarch. Gratitude welled in Scully’s heart as she saw them the way Mulder must have seen them—a family. Misfits, freaks, and outcasts who had somehow found their way to each other, and despite their broken pieces, built something beautiful and strong.

She knew the feeling.

The Magic Box was empty except for their group, its doors having closed to the perusing public around dusk, but the self-christened Scoobie Gang showed no sign of slowing down. This was their third straight night gathered around the large wooden table at the back of the shop, its legs creaking under the dusty weight of ancient texts piled upon it. The discard stacks in the corners grew every hour, but Giles never seemed to run out of new books to bring in from the back room or his own home.

Despite their subject matter, Scully had taken great comfort in those thick, musty volumes; they reminded her of nights spent in the library during medical school, cramming for exams with her friends, guzzling coffee and junk food and chattering about anything they could think of just to keep each other awake. Some of these books even had the same kind of disturbingly graphic yet coldly clinical anatomical diagrams as her textbooks.

Though these books held nearly nothing of the science she loved, they nonetheless represented the same human desire to document the past and carry it into the future, bound in worn leather and yellowed pages; ships in bottles cast into the world in the hopes their messages would help someone else.

Still, the line had to be drawn somewhere.

“Werewolves? Mummies? Demons? You guys actually believe in this stuff?”

“Dated one,” answered Willow and Xander at the same time.

“Used to be one!” piped Anya.

Scully’s headache grew a shade worse. Giles patted her shoulder and went to retrieve yet another box from his car.

She tried to focus on the ponderous tome open on the table in front of her, a book of remedies written in one of the few languages she could understand—presumably some form of German, though roughly one word in eight was too archaic for her to recognize. The other books were written in languages more obscure still; they had gone through most of the English volumes on the first night of their search. Translating them would be the work of a lifetime; even skimming a single volume for relevant words and phrases took hours, and a fear was growing in her belly that all of this effort would turn out to be futile. If the others shared the same concern, they didn’t show it. Three nights in a row they had shown up with snacks, coffee, and an enthusiasm that bordered on mania. They would be half-asleep in their chairs by dawn—or in Xander’s case, fully asleep and snoring—and she loved them for it.

So much of this still felt so unreal; she turned the thick page and began to pick through what turned out to be a recipe for making cough tonic from the scales of something called a polgara, alongside an illustration depicting a reptilian creature with enormous skewers sprouting from its humanoid arms; the author of the tonic helpfully reminded her to exercise caution around the pointy bits. She wanted to slam the book shut, hop on a plane, and return to the more vague and deniable lunacy of her regular life. Mutants and aliens and government conspiracies she could understand, maybe even explain. But magic? Real magic?

She glanced over at Willow and Tara, their fingers twining together as they compared notes. Those first few hours after Mulder’s… transformation… had been bewildering, terrifying, and while she might have been borderline delirious with blood loss and nursing a moderate concussion, she couldn’t deny what she had seen. It was a sight she would take to her grave.

Buffy had bound Mulder in chains, and he hung between them with a face from a nightmare, snapping and foaming pink at the mouth like a rabid animal. While the other Scoobies took up their places in a loose circle, leveling crosses and crossbows at him—and Scully slumped against the wall, refusing to leave his side even now—the two young women stood before the snarling beast that used to be her partner, uncowed as he hurled graphic threats and curses at them. Scully could only watch in stunned wonder as they summoned something so beautiful and so primal that even now she couldn’t find the proper words to describe it.

She had felt the power in that room as white light pooled into the orb suspended between their outstretched hands, the air itself chiming with its purity. She didn’t recognize the language spilling from their mouths, but she heard the music in it, the command; the chanting doubled and redoubled upon itself, echoing through the space until Scully felt she could reach out and pluck the words like birds from the air and cradle them in her hands.

When finally the spell reached its zenith, power throbbing against her skin like the heartbeat of creation itself, Willow had called out one last echoing command; the light that they conjured fled all at once, leaving Scully staggered and half-blind in the sudden dark.

At first she feared it hadn’t worked, that the dying of the light was a sign that the darkness had won, until she saw the last tendrils of that brilliant light fading in Mulder’s eyes— Mulder’s eyes, green as the first breath of spring, staring out with pain and confusion from a human face still smeared with her blood.

She had wept, then, and stumbled forward on weak legs to drape her arms around him. “Scully?” he asked in a trembling voice. “What happened? I don’t—I don’t remember…”

He would remember, and soon, but for that moment he was just Mulder again. Her partner, her friend. The man she trusted with every inch of her soul.

And Willow and Tara had restored his.

Maybe believing in magic wasn’t so preposterous after all.

Buffy slammed her book closed, sending a puff of dust into the air. The table—and everyone sitting around it—jumped. “All I’m finding here is new and inventive ways to kill vampires. I already know how to do that. In fact, it’s kind of my whole thing. Not one word about how to make one all soft and cuddly again.”

Willow set her own book down in agreement. “I’ve got plenty of stories of humans getting turned into vampires—some of which are actually quite gross, by the way—but nothing the other way.”

“I still think we should try the whole exorcism thing. I’m pretty sure this group can handle a little pea soup and swearing.”

“Xander, I already told you,” Anya said, coming out from behind the counter to sit beside him. “Even if we could get the demon out, the body is still dead. Without the demon to hold it together, all you’d be left with is a pile of dust.”

Tara raised her hand. “I vote against dusting. I mean, of Mr. Mulder. General cleanliness is fine.”

“Well hang on,” Willow said. “Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. I think there’s a resurrection spell in here that could—”

“No!” the others all cried at once, some in anger, some in fear.

The girl sat back in defeat, her eyebrows knit together in frustration, and Tara put a comforting hand on her arm. “No, sweetie. You know those never go right. You know that.”

Something dark crossed Buffy’s face, and the rest of the group carefully avoided meeting her eyes. Scully wondered why, and made a mental note to ask Mulder when they were alone again. “She’s right, Wil. It’s too dangerous.”

“But—”

“Enough.” Giles didn’t even raise his voice, but the authority in it was unmistakable. Even Scully felt herself sitting up a little straighter at his tone. “This man is our friend. He has helped us out on countless occasions, and has given us information that has saved many lives, including some of ours, at no small risk to himself. Now I’ve told this woman—” he gestured to Scully “—that there is no group in this world more qualified to help him, and I believe that. So I would like to see a little less naysaying and a little more optimism. We haven’t even touched the Sumerian archives yet, or the Heian healer chronicles—and they were practically miracle-workers. Not to mention the Anstopiary codex, the Aurora archives, I have an order in with a bookseller in Qatar that—”

“Giles,” said Buffy, lifting her brows. “Focus.”

He adjusted his glasses, a gesture Scully was beginning to realize was his equivalent of counting to ten and taking a deep breath. “The point is, I’m sure we’ll start making headway soon. I am not giving up on this. On him. None of us are.”

His chastisement hung heavy in the air for a long moment.

“Giles is right.” Willow had known Mulder the longest—they met in a supernatural chat room years ago, and it was her bizarre story about a possibly vampiric serial killer that had brought them here in the first place. Scully wasn’t surprised that the girl was the first to speak, but it warmed her heart just the same. “We’re the freaking Scoobies, guys. And Scoobies never say die.”

“I think that’s Goonies, sweetie.”

“Whatever. The point is, we don’t give up, especially when our friends are in trouble. So buck up, buckers, we gotta make with some head.” She paused, scrunching her face as she heard her own words. “Okay, that sounded kinda gross, but we’re gonna de-vamp that guy if we have to tear through every last one of these books and the whole Watcher library. Twice.”

“Thanks for the enthusiasm, Willow.”

Scully’s heart leapt; she turned and saw Mulder coming through the doorway to the shop, balancing several paper cups of coffee, fast food containers, and a bag of groceries in his arms. She smiled at the sight of him, looking almost normal in his jeans and soft gray t-shirt. He was still too pale, but he seemed to be moving more smoothly since his little… snack. His expression was no longer so pained, his limbs less stiff. He saw her staring and winked, shuffling his feet in a dorky approximation of a dance as if to say S ee, Scully? All good here , and she fought not to roll her eyes.

Spike followed close behind him, similarly burdened, though she saw a few containers bearing the familiar logo of the butcher shop mixed in among the coffee.

“Ooh, Scoobie Snacks!” Xander said, in a passable imitation of the cartoon, rising to help carry the provisions to the table. A happy murmur passed through the room and Scully smiled; nothing like an infusion of sugar and caffeine to reinvigorate an all-night study session.

Scully’s fingers brushed Mulder’s as she took her cup from his hand; they felt slightly warmer. “You seem a little better. Should we upgrade your condition to quarter-dead?”

He smiled as he settled into the chair next to hers, a butcher’s cup cradled in his elbow. “Not quite that far. Maybe a third. Spike took me to…” His voice trailed off, and he looked away with that bashful half-smile that meant he was about to say something she would find, at best, incredulous.

“What, Mulder? Spike took you where?” Her mind spun, despite herself—did they rob a blood bank? Knock over a Red Cross van? Did they go hunting ?

“A vampire cafe.” He laughed, and the fist around her heart loosened. “Next to a slaughterhouse. Not exactly the most glamorous place I’ve ever been, but they can mix up a cow’s blood blend that’s almost approaching palatable.” He nodded towards his cup. “He also showed me a few tricks to make this stuff a little less vile.”

“Cinnamon’s the key,” Spike chimed in, stepping up behind Mulder and clapping him on the back. The liquid in his cup sloshed, along with the contents of Scully’s stomach. “Makes it taste all festive.”

“Yum,” Scully said, and immediately regretted the sarcasm in her voice. “I’m glad it’s helping. You really do look better.”

“How about you guys? Any progress?”

Anyone else might have missed the fragile hope in his eyes, the way he delivered his words with a lack of emphasis that, to her familiar ear, belied the desperation beneath. Seven years together—she could read him like a book.

“You missed a couple of mostly-inspirational speeches and a spirited debate about cinema, but no. We’re still looking.”

He nodded and looked away, the flexing muscle in his jaw the only outward sign of disappointment. Her hand on his brought his eyes back to her face. She stroked her thumb over his knuckles. It said I’m not giving up.

He placed his other hand on top of hers and squeezed. Never.

A/N: Our poor, long-suffering Scully, surrounded by a gaggle of mini-Mulders! I had so much fun writing the Scoobie dialogue. It's strange and exciting combining a show like Buffy, which is renowned for its snappy wordplay, with a show like The X-Files, where so much is unspoken and instead conveyed with touch and eye contact. I hope it didn't give you too much whiplash! As always, comments will be printed, laminated, and put into my Scrapbook of Validation.

#stained #my writing #my fanfic #crossover #txf #the x files #btvs #buffy the vampire slayer #fox mulder #dana scully #buffy summers #willow rosenberg #tara mclay #xander harris #anya jenkins #rupert giles #spike btvs

[mandana-the-service-pup]

If anyone is in need of a good treat bag, this is my personal favorite and is on sale on Amazon for $8

I love the phone pocket in the front. I keep a minimalist wallet in the back zippered pocket. I actually use the belt clip on the back of the bag to hold a pack of unscented wipes (I recommend avoiding antibacterial or scented wipes if you feed treats from your hand) The poop bag holder in the front is great and there’s even a spot above for a small Velcro patch.

As you can see in the picture above, I like to carry one of these “mats” with us everywhere we go. It’s absorbent & thin enough to use as a towel if you need to clean up your dog or if they make a mess (such as splashing water on the floor when they drink during public access 😅) but it also has a grippy bottom so it won’t slide much when you use it as a place mat on a slick floor.

These water bottles fit in the side pouch:

For safety, I keep a mini air horn & a mini stun gun in the other pocket (they both fit in one pocket!)

I prefer to use flexible silicone measuring cups for separating treats or you can get one that you can close which is great for stinky treats but it will also stay open for quick access (also can be used as a water bowl)

The strap has little elastic loops, which is perfect for a clicker:

Or small tug toy:

Or anything else you can hang from a carabiner (Avoid the common ones. They break immediately. Try these instead)

#service dog gear review #service dog gear #dog training gear #dog gear review #service dog community #dog training community #service dogblr #dogblr #recommendations #recommended

[zodiakuroo]

copycat

18+, eren jaeger x fem!reader

part two of pierced

inspired by the 'big stick' scene from jawbreaker (iykyk)

wc: 3.7k

contains: mild dubcon, light dom/sub, ball play, choking, dumbification, degradation, spit, creampie

Eren can’t help but admire you from the doorway of your shared bedroom. One would think, that after 30 days of edging, you would learn not to be such a fucking tease. But here you are flitting around the kitchen in nothing but one of his t-shirts and a frilly pair of lilac panties.

‘Stop being a perv. It’s hot out.’ You don’t have to say it. The ‘you’ in his head is already chastising him for the lascivious nature of his thoughts.

The ‘you’ in his head is also already bent over the granite top counter, panties long discarded, presenting yourself to him, begging ‘Please Eren. Fuck me.’

He can’t help it. Everyday he’s found himself face to face with your cute little pussy, absolutely begging to get filled and not being able to do anything about it. It’s not his fault that when he sees you wearing next to nothing, he just wants to stick his cock in you.

Except it’s entirely his fault.

That’s why even though you can feel the weight of his stare as you move around the kitchen, you don’t even spare a glance in his direction.

If there’s one thing these last few weeks have taught you, its willpower. And thanks to your newfound self-discipline you’re able to resist the urge to pounce on him when your boyfriend pulls your back against the solid wall of his chest. “Baby.” He rasps. “I’m all healed up.”

The statement makes goosebumps appear on your skin despite the sweltering heat but other than that, you show no signs of exactly how pent up you are.

Eren made you swear not to touch yourself whining about how unfair it would be and how he would really appreciate your support in his hour of need. Yes he used those exact words. You kept your promise but not without intending to receive payback. It was only a matter of how. The idea hadn’t come to you yet.

“Really?” You don’t even bother to turn around, pushing past him. Partly as a way to tease him but also because you don’t trust yourself to be able to resist him once you get a good look at him. From his scent alone you can tell he’s fresh from a shower and that’s when he’s the most dangerous. He smells cool and fresh like his shower gel, spicy and warm like his aftershave and fruity and floral like his your shampoo. It’s hypnotic.

The trance is broken when he pulls you even closer to him, grinding his bulge into your backside.

“Stop buying that 2-in-1 shit if you’re gonna use mine all the time anyways.” You grumble.

Right.

Revenge first. Dick second. The voice in your head reminds you.

You wriggle out of his hold, remembering why you came into the kitchen in the first place. You breathe a sigh of relief as you open the freezer door, the cold air providing a brief reprieve from the near suffocating heat of your apartment. Once you’ve obtained your target; a cherry popsicle hidden behind some ice packs and frozen peas, you finally take a look at your tormentor.

“Babe c’mon.” Eren persists.

He looks good. Unfairly good considering the fact that he’s not even trying. Fresh from the shower, he has on a worn out white t-shirt, stretched around the neckline which gives you a mouthwatering look at his perfectly sculpted collarbones and no more than the top of his pecs that peak out above the seam. His grey athletic shorts hang low on his hips and outline his print a little too well so you know he’s not wearing boxers. Eren hasn’t bothered to tie up his long hair leaving the damp tendrils dangling above his shoulders with a few stray strands framing his handsome face. He’s putting up a nonchalant front but the tick in his eyebrow gives his irritated disposition away.

Surely he didn’t believe that you would let him have his way with you that easily.

Except he did. Because under most circumstances he would. But today, your own stubbornness (only marginally) drowns out your desire for your Adonis of a boyfriend so you push past him into the lounge, plopping down on the couch with a dramatic sigh.

“Later.” You bring the frozen treat to your lips. “It’s so hot.” Again, Eren tries to keep his face expressionless but you easily spot the way he clenches his jaw as his gaze fixes itself onto your mouth.

Bingo

You close your eyes, enjoying the sweet cherry taste and cool sensation that spreads throughout your body.

“On second thought,” You start, as a mischievous grin spreads across your face. “There is something else I’d rather have in my mouth.”

“Yeah?” Eren dons a matching smirk and stalks his way over to you, sitting down so that you can straddle him. “Tempting but honestly, your mouth isn’t what I had in mind.” His voice trails off, large hands moving down to cup your ass, giving the soft flesh a squeeze for good measure. But before he can take it any further you’re already manoeuvring your way between his knees.

“Oh. You don’t want me to suck your cock?” You pout, resting your head against his thigh, trying your best to sound disappointed.

Eren swallows whatever argument he was about to present when he sees your pretty eyes, shaded by fluttering lashes looking up at him with the tip of the crimson popsicle pressed against your sinful mouth. The same sinful mouth he’s been dreaming about for a month.

Fuck.

“Yeah, okay.” He grumbles while you watch him pull his already half hard cock out of his bottoms. It’s so pretty and long, perfectly thick in all the right places, decorated at the tip with a vertical running titanium barbell.

He’s got a hand around his base, waiting for you to replace the sweet treat in your mouth with his aching cock but much to his dismay your attention is drawn a little lower.

The sight of his plush balls all swollen and full of cum proves to be too much for you to resist. He shudders when your cold lips press against the taut skin. You know he’s sensitive from being so backed up. That’s why he starts panting as you leave wet kisses on his sac, leaving your saliva all over it while his shaft grows harder above you.

“Hold this for me.” You pass him your popsicle, that is slowly starting to melt which he takes in his free hand.

“Okay can you just- fuck.” One more kiss, right on the shiny metal of his newly healed piercing, shuts him up quickly.

Your own hands find their place on his thighs. You dip your head down again and take one of his balls in his mouth massaging it with your tongue.

“Christ.” He groans, slowly jerking himself off while you worship his balls.

“Oh poor baby…. so full.” You murmur letting go of the left to suck on the right one, savouring the weight of them.

“Yeah.” His voice is about a whole octave higher than usual. “Hurts.” He scrunches up his face when you let go of his ball with a pop.

“I bet.” You giggle. Eren is now at full mast, veiny shaft resting against his abdomen, dribbling precum which coats the shiny piercing that crowns his angry-red tip. His wrist flicks ever so elegantly as his hand moves languidly up and down, up and down, up and-”

“Princess.” Your boyfriend whines, yanking you out of your daze. “Enough with the teasing. You wanted to suck me off. Do it already.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, not losing sight of your revenge plot.

“Baby,” You pout. “I really want to but-” It’s so hard to bite back your laugh. “But I don’t remember how.”

“Wait what?” His hand stops right in his tracks, brows furrowed in confusion.

“It’s been so long. Can you show me?”

Eren’s expression goes from perplexed to vicious but you don’t budge, blinking up at him with wide innocent eyes.

“How?” He huffs impatiently. It’s funny actually, seeing him struggle to tolerate a fraction of his own bitter medicine.

Your eyes shift to the frozen treat still in his hand that’s starting to drip down his knuckles. “I’m a visual learner.”

He moves like he’s about to stand up but you won’t make it that easy for him. “Please, Rennie? Please teach me how to suck your cock?”

As much as Eren has you wrapped around his finger, he’s just as whipped for you. So when you look at him with those sparkly eyes and call him the pet name he swears he hates but brings him to his knees when you use it, you know you have him.

Hook, line and sinker.

You use your thumb and middle finger to make a circle around his base, positioning yourself eye level with his leaking slit.

His tongue peaks out cautiously, eyes trained on yours as he flicks it across the tip, testing the waters. Immediately you follow suit, tasting his precum for the first time in so long. His hips buck off the couch, chasing the gone-too-soon sensation but you dig your nails into his thigh, reminding him who’s in control right now.

You quirk your brow at him, making sure he understands what you want.

How many times have you found yourself in this exact position: sitting between your boyfriend’s thighs while he looks down at you, both of you equally as lust drunk as the other. But this time he’s the one panting and whimpering while you have your turn to torture him.

Eren doesn’t like it. Not one bit. He wants to smack that smug little grin right off your face but instead he pulls at your hair, tugging right at the roots and making you yelp in pain. Now you’re scowling. But it’s hard to look at all intimidating sitting beneath him with your head tilted at such an awkward angle. He doesn’t miss the way your thighs clench together either.

Never breaking eye contact, he uses the flat of his tongue to lick a broad stripe up the length of the popsicle. You squirm in place, remembering how it feels to have him lick across your cunt exactly like that.

Fine. He’d play along with your little game. But on his own terms.

You lean forward to copy him but the hand holding your head keeps you in place. Without looking away, Eren launches a glob of spit onto the already drippy ice-cream before licking it away. It’s that simple for him to put a crack in your domineering façade and have you whimpering right at his feet as per usual.

The corners of his lips twitch as a silent challenge to you.

Never one to back down, you use your tongue to trace the vein that runs along the underside of his cock, feeling it pulsate. As you get closer to his prince Albert, you can’t hold back from swirling the wet muscle around the cold metal.

A soft whimper escapes his lips as you pull away, keeping your mouth agape, looking up at him expectantly.

It’s silent for a moment before Eren realises what you’re wordlessly pleading for. “Fucking slut.” He mutters, almost amazed before he gathers more of his saliva to drop into your mouth with a loud khwa pto echoing throughout the quiet apartment.

You close your mouth with a satisfied smile, savouring the taste of sweet, tart cherry and a flavour that is uniquely Eren, letting it mingle with your own saliva before spitting it on to his cock. You use your tongue to spread the wetness all along the shaft, leaving it covered in slick sheen.

“So fuckin’ nasty.” He groans, moving his hand from your head to push his own hair out of his face, not wanting anything to obstruct his view of you right now.

You feel the way his thigh twitches under your palm every time you come even close to his puffy cockhead and your tongue brushes across the sensitive piercing. The idea that you have him like this, desperate and whining, after weeks of him toying with you is exhilarating to say the least.

You have to rein yourself in before you end the fun too soon.

Reluctantly, you pull away and patiently await your next command.

You know what he wants next and so does he but Eren can’t help but feel self-conscious.

Of course, he loves the way you look when you’re going down him. His gallery is filled with pictures of you with your eyes filled to the brim with tears and your lips stretched impossibly wide around his girth. When you’re not around he gets off to the videos him fucking your face, relishing in the way you gag while you try to accommodate him in your throat. He doesn’t think he could ever measure up to how sexy you look with your pupils blown, lips all swollen and your spit dripping down your chin.

But just like you, he’s never been one to back down from a challenge.

Ever so slowly, he opens his mouth and latches on to the blunt top of the popsicle. His plump lips form a perfect O-shaped pout, stained beautiful crimson from the fruit juice. Your gaze is transfixed on his face, the sharp lines and edges tinted with an uncharacteristic blush as his cheeks hollow out, to suck it in deeper.

“So pretty baby.” You breathe out.

He shudders as the cool air fans out across his wet skin.

“Yeah? ‘m pretty?” He smirks, using his free hand to drag his cock across your face, smearing his precum on your lips. “Show me how you treat pretty boys. Please?”

And how could you deny him?

Centimeter by centimeter, you pull him in. Only the first few inches, get to enjoy the warm, slippery cavern of your mouth while the rest of him has to make do with the soft skin of your hand gliding up, down and around.

“Fucking take it inside. Christ.” He groans, frustration evident as he glares down at you.

You simply shake your head a ‘no’, far too content with the taste and the weight of him in your mouth to stop suckling at his cock. If he wants more, he knows what he has to do.

The frozen treat is back between his lips and far too quickly, with not enough thought he pushes it inside as far as it can go until his gag reflex forces him to abort his mission, sputtering out red-coloured saliva.

You pull off of him as you erupt into a fit of giggles.

Eren takes advantage of the fact that you’re unguarded and in a matter of seconds he has you pinned to the floor. The poor popsicle is left in a sad, melting puddle on your couch while his long, sticky fingers circle around both of your wrists, the other hand keeping a harsh grip on your jaw.

Yeah. Not laughing now, are you?

“Was that funny to you princess?” He questions you, almost daring you to hit back.

Knowing when to quit was never one of your strong points.

“Not funny.” You say despite your giddy smile. “My pretty boy just needs more practice.” You snicker.

You’re pushing his buttons on purpose now. At best, you expect some degrading words fitting of your bratty attitude. At worst, you expect the sting of his palm to come down against the side of your face, reminding you of your place.

What you don’t expect is a wry chuckle before he says, “I forgot how bitchy you get when you don’t get stuffed full of cock enough.”

Eren frees your hands in favour of placing both of his on your knees. He spreads apart your legs as wide as they can go, dragging his coarse palms up and up to rest at the apex of your thighs. He flicks up the hem of your shirt to reveal to him the crotch of your panties that's soaked through with your arousal. He pulls them to the side to expose your cunt to him. Eren barely stops himself from tearing the flimsy fabric right off your body and only because he thinks they're pretty and wants to see you wear them again.

He can smell you. But he suppresses the desire to bury his face between your pillowy thighs for as long as you’ll let him. He knows that’s not what either of you really want.

“This needy pussy been missing me?” He coos, keeping his voice sugary sweet and dripping with condescension. He grinds his pierced tip all along your cunt, dipping under your hood to press right against your clit.

You feel it before you realise what’s happening; the burn of his fat head of his cock prodding at your tiny hole, forcing it to stretch around him.

“Jesus fuck- ‘s tight.” He grits out, managing to pop just the tip in.

Tears gather at your waterline as he impales you further and further on his cock, reintroducing your insides to him and his newest body mod. The bulb of the piercing drags deliciously over every bump and ridge that lines your walls. It just keeps going and going until it’s all too much.

Instinctively, your hand flies to Eren’s abdomen, fingers splaying across his tummy. You want to ask him to stop or wait or at the very least prep you. But you’re just so full.

He’s not even all the way in and you’re full of him everywhere. Did it feel like this before?

He doesn't give you a chance to remember.

“Move. Your fucking. Hand.” He grunts before moving it for you and sheathing his cock fully in your spasming cunt.

“Fuck Eren. ‘s big.” Your voice breaks as you utter that last word right one Eren fills you to the hilt. Your arms fly to his biceps, squeezing the muscle so tight that you’re certain it hurts him but he doesn’t complain.

No one would believe that mere minutes ago Eren was the one under your thumb. Not when he’s so quickly managed to turn you into a blubbering mess.

“Where’s that smart mouth now?” He mocks you as if he’s doing any better. In reality he’s keeping himself still, with his pressed against yours trying to regain a semblance of control, not wanting this to end so soon.

Slowly, he starts to rock his hips against you and little by little you open up around him, offering less and less resistance. Hand on the bible, he swears he can feel your gooey pussy sucking him in every time he pulls back, almost like it’s begging him to never leave again. Hand on the bible, he swears that he won’t.

“Huh?” He taunts. “Where’s the bitch who thought she could fuck with me?” He emphasises his point with one sharp snap of his hips that hits the bull’s eye.

“Eren! Right there!” You cry out as you back arches up into him but he forces you to stay down by pressing his palm firmly against your sternum.

“Right there?” He mimics your voice, with a high pitched, nasal tone. You can’t even cringe at how it sounds because the feeling of the rounded metal hitting that squishy patch deep inside you with pinpoint accuracy is too overwhelming for you to think about anything else.

“You want me to fuck you here?” His thrusts start to pick up pace. You’re finally getting used to him again and the slick juices from your pussy let’s him move as fast as he wants, as deep as he wants so you he can use his cock to abuse all of your sweet spots

You can’t exactly speak; only nod, as you dig your nails into his shoulders and back, leaving a trail of crescent shaped indents in your wake. The coil at the base of your belly twists tighter, tighter and tighter still as all your nerve endings work overtime to register the way he fills you up completely, the way the metal rubs along all the right spots and the way Eren rams into you like a man possessed.

“Pleasepleasepleaseplease.” Now you’re begging. It’s impossible to stop the fear bubbling in your chest. You’ve become well-acquainted with this feeling. Absolutely drowning in pleasure and right on the edge of an unimaginable peak before having it ripped away. It’s not unreasonable to be worried that Eren might leave you high and dry once again.

He halts his movements the moment he notices the doubt behind your eyes.

Your pleas become more and more frantic, already thinking the worst. “Don’t stop Eren! Please don’t stop.” You sob but go silent when his hand rests itself firmly around your throat.

“Told you.” He punctuates the sentence with one, deep thrust.

“Fuck. What did I say?” He growls as he falls back into the same brutal rhythm that had you teetering on the very brink of an orgasm before.

God above as your witness, you try and answer but all that comes out is a pathetic squeak of his name before he cuts you off completely by squeezing your neck tighter.

“S-said I was gonna fuck you stupid. Right?”

You nod as best you can, head spinning from the lack of air and your orgasm approaching rapidly.

“Now fuckin’ cum for me so I can keep my promise.”

The second his hand meets your clit, you’re a goner. The calloused pad of his thumb rubs the neglected nub with exactly the right pressure to push you over the edge. Every muscle clenches as that tightening coil finally snaps. The intoxicating pleasure that shoots through your body reaches your head at the same time as the pressure on your throat is released, much needed oxygen flooding your brain and prolonging the high.

You wrap your legs around his waist, keeping him deep inside you as cream around his cock. It’s pointless to hold off his release any longer and with nowhere else to go he spills his load deep in your pussy. The feeling of his hot cum seeping into your pussy has you twitching around him, trying to milk every last drop from him.

You may have blacked for a second, eyes fluttering open as Eren gently taps your cheek. His handsome face, all flushed and sweaty comes into focus. Both of you are wearing equally dopey grins as he asks you, “Did it feel as good as I said?”

#tw dubcon #eren jaeger #eren x reader #eren yaeger smut #eren jaeger smut #eren yaeger x reader #attack on titan smut #eren smut #aot smut #snk smut #eren yaeger x reader smut

[90stvshowgoth]

—BREAKING & ENTERING

—ch.1 —ch.2

summary: after dabi was seen leaving your apartment complex last week, the commission has sent a lesser known hero to help guard the building until new cameras are installed. however, no security measures in the world could keep dabi out.

w/c: 5064

tags: dubcon, cuckolding, creampie, voyeurism, humiliation, exhibitionism, arson

a/n: this is the final chapter to this little duology, and the reason why its so much shorter is because the first one was really supposed to stand on its own, but i got so many requests for a sequel i couldn’t help it. so i just took the kinks i didn’t get to use last time and pay off some setup and voila. however, just ‘cause this is the last chapter of this story doesn’t mean i’m not gonna write a fuck ton of other stuff for him. ily burn man. plus i’m working on a huge, multi-chapter fic for him while i post smaller one-shots >:) that being said, enjoy.

The impact Dabi left on your life was far bigger than you thought it would’ve been on the night you snuck him away from the law. As he was running from the cops someone saw him climb through your window, and a different person also saw him climb down the fire escape. With witnesses like that, the other tenants were downright furious.

You almost felt bad for the landlord, it wasn’t his fault you were insane enough to willingly let a villain come inside both you and your apartment.

Your landlord and the police department came up with a solution. The apartment complex would be installing new state-of-the-art locks on all fire-escape adjacent windows free of charge. This wasn’t exactly an issue with seeing Dabi again, since all you had to do was purposefully leave yours unlocked.

It would take two weeks to install all the cameras, but until then, a community-assigned hero would be stationed to guard the complex.

His name was Kao, a middle-ranked hero with bright orange hair and a winning smile framed with dimples. At first you thought he might’ve been one of the better heroes, waving you off to work and walking you there the other day, but recently he’d begun to creep you out. The friendly conversations about a tv show you both enjoyed began to turn into invasive questions about your love life.

A week of lingering glances and uncomfortable prying culminated that Friday as he had flat out asked you to dinner moments prior.

“C’mon, I just— I said that wrong, lemme try again,” He stuttered, keeping pace with you as you marched towards the building.

“No, Kao, look, you’re cool and all, but I’m really not looking to date anyone right now.” You huffed, striding into the doorway and towards the elevator. That might not’ve been the whole truth but you obviously couldn’t tell him that you had the hots for a terrorist.

He groaned, rubbing the back of his neck, “Well you just got off work, right? I remember which room you stay in, maybe I can swing by tonight?”

You whirled on him, your jaw slack in shock at the insensitivity of his words. The reminder that he knew where you lived sending a shiver down your spine, “Kao, this conversation is done. I don’t want you following me around anymore, hero,”

Deep down, your words sounded familiar. If they were raspier and said behind a thin veil of indifference, you might’ve realized that you were talking like Dabi.

“What is that supposed to mean? We’re the good guys!” You slammed your fist down on the close-door button, your mouth a thin line, daring Kao to make a move and stop the doors. He didn’t, and soon the reassuring pull of the elevator set your shaking body at ease.

‘Who does he think he is?’ You were bitter, rightfully so, you think.

You were so frustrated that you had difficulty inserting your keys into the lock, twisting it with a growl and throwing open the door, ready to collapse onto your pillow and vent to whoever was online about your heroic stalker.

When you noticed the scent of cigarettes in the air.

“Hey, doll,” Warmth surged through your chest at the sight of him, the villain’s feet kicked up onto the coffee table.

You were hanging your coat on the hook before moving beside him to the couch, “What took you so long?”

“Not happy to see me? You seem a lot bitchier than I remember,” The crude edge of his humor was a breath of fresh air compared to the stifling niceties of work, and you smiled for what felt like the first time that day.

Shaking your head, you toed out of your boots and made your way to the frayed couch, “I’ll tell you all about him,”

That got his attention, “Him?”

“A hero,” Dabi’s frown worsened, an accusatory look in his eyes, “before you ask, no, you idiot, I hate this guy, there’s not a chance I’d sleep with him.”

The tensity in his shoulders relaxed, bring the half-finished Newport to his lips as you continued, “Since you broke in last week all my neighbors lost their shit. They threatened to sue if my landlord didn’t assign a hero to watch the building for a bit. I thought he was cool, but I’ve just decided that he’s a total prick.”

He hummed, nodding understandingly, “Want me to kill him?”

You gaped, hitting him on the chest, “Wha—No, Dabi, what the hell?”

He just shrugged, the intensity of his words almost funny to you, and as you recounted the last twenty minutes the ashes of Dabi’s cigarette fell to the floor. The dying lights of the sun streamed through your window, the smoke oddly beautiful in the glow as he handed you the last hit of his cheap cigar.

“You know why heroes are like that?” You shook your head, enjoying the numbing calm of tobacco, “It’s cause they’re spoiled. They go their entire lives being praised for everything they do so they don’t know how to take no for a fuckin’ answer,”

Apparently your smoking buddy was feeling talkative, much to your delight. His words made you pause, remembering the relieved faces of your neighbors whenever they’d see the gaudy costume Kao wore as he strode by.

“Shit... guess you’re right,” You mumbled into his side, not minding the ever-present aroma of burnt skin and smoke that clung to Dabi’s coat.

He scoffed, “I’m always right, baby,” His words earning him a pinch on the arm.

“No, you ass, just about the hero stuff,” He grinned, the staples on his dimples taut against his skin as he pulled you closer, his breath hot against your ear.

“Careful, doll, you’re starting to sound like a villain,” The drop in your stomach sent heat down your skin, yet somehow you were still shivering under his predatory gaze.

You shook your head, trying to will away the red that dusted your cheeks, “No way, my quirk isn’t strong enough to be a villain,”

He raised his eyebrow expectantly, broadly gesturing for you to go on.

“Well...” God, why is this embarrassing? “I can give people headaches.”

You didn’t know if he would laugh at you or belittle you for your meaningless quirk, but he did neither.

“Think you could practice it more? Get better at it?” He was serious, staring at you and expecting an answer.

You looked away, unable to hold his gaze, “I mean, maybe? It’s not hard to do, I guess,”

Dabi smirked, pulling you onto his lap. It felt as if the week hadn’t happened at all and you were right back where you started, your face flushing at the memories of that night. He dragged you close, eyes dark as he whispered something into your ear...

“Think you could split someone’s head open with a migraine?”

Your gut wrenched, flinching at the gory idea and making you sit up in Dabi’s lap. The atmosphere in the room hadn’t changed, his stare as menacing as before.

That is, until he started to crack up. Louder than you’d ever heard before, his fit filled the apartment until he had to cup his stomach from laughing too hard; the wheeze in his rough throat echoing around the room as your blush spread all the way down your neck.

“Oh, you asshole!” If anything, your shove against his chest only made him more giddy. The panic-fueled adrenaline was still surging through your body, unwillingly making the wetness between your thighs spread, even as you tried to wrap your head around the fact that Dabi had been fucking with you.

Your legs shook as he held on to you for balance, his cackling dying down but the shit-eating grin never leaving his face, “You were so freaked out, huh?”

“Yeah, no shit!”

He hummed, running a hand through your hair and suddenly yanking you forward, basking in the sharp yelp it brought from you, “You’re cute when you’re scared,”

You’d missed the way his scabbed lips felt on yours more than you’d ever admit. There was something about him that left you breathless, eager and questioning your life choices. Groaning into his mouth before pulling back and laving your slick tongue along his disfigured lower lip, you rolled your aching heat against him to force a truly pornographic moan from his mouth.

“Oh, fuck—” One of his hands slid down your back, grabbing your ass through your jeans, “Fucking hell, you missed me that much?”

You nodded dumbly into his shoulder, pressing chaste kisses along the ragged skin as he slid his finger past the band of your jeans, cupping your dripping sex with wide eyes.

“Goddamn, s’no way you’re this wet for me already,” His eyes were scrutinizing, trying to figure out why you were hiding into his neck, “What’s got you so worked up, doll?”

You couldn’t come up with a good excuse in time, Dabi thinking back to how your thighs had tightened up when he asked if you could kill someone, your eyes were frightened back then, yes, but there was something else. Something you wouldn’t tell him.

When the realization hit him, it hit hard.

“Holy shit, you get off on being scared?” He couldn’t believe his luck, the embarrassed groan you buried into his shoulder confirming his suspicions.

Dabi ran a hand through his hair, a childish wonder over his features, “Aren’t I fuckin’ lucky?” He sneered, pulling you back til you were at eye-level again.

“I’m gonna try something, baby,” there was an edge to his voice as he settled one hand on the small of your back, pressing your tits against his chest as he held your bra strap back with the other.

“What are you… Dabi, what are you doing?” The scent of fire and burning fabric filled the air, the ends of your bralette smoking between his fingertips, embers turning to ash and sprinkling down the couch until it was flimsy enough for Dabi to rip free, teeth sinking into your neck as he held you still to keep your skin safe.

It was jarring and a bit terrifying to be restrained against someone like Dabi without knowing his intentions. But nothing in you could deny the blinding rush of pleasure it ripped down your spine.

“It’s all starting to make sense, doll-face, I guess I was right the first time,” His hands tossed the smoking bra into hallway, reaching between you and torturously pinching and pulling on the rosy blush of your tits, “you do have a thing for villains,”

“Can’t wait to fuck that tight pussy again, doll,” Without warning he shoved your torso forward, your body bouncing against the couch, his hands flying to the button of your jeans.

“—Didn’t have time to take you right last time, didn’t get to taste you,” his words made you whimper in his grasp, keeping your legs somewhat raised as tugged down the tight denim.

You fully expected him to take you rough like before, make you choke on his cock before having his fill, but as he tugged off your black panties he crawled down the trembling body beneath him, slowly moving over your ribs, your stomach, and finally your drooling cunt.

He never broke eye contact with you as he pulled your thighs closer, keeping them spread wide as the hot fan of his breath on your pussy sent a thrill through your neglected nerves.

“I want you to scream my name,” It was an order, not a request. The unhinged tremor in his hands was unsettling, an unspoken threat hanging in the air.

Dabi’s tongue immediately found your clit, mouth wrapping around the glistening bead and sucking all at once, the moan it drew from your lips unholy. He moaned at the taste, hiking up your hips onto his shoulders.

“Christ, you’re sweet, doll, like fuckin’ candy...” He muttered in disbelief, more to himself that to you, licking a wide stripe along your drenched lips, diving into you deep enough to have your limbs spasming around him.

On instinct your hand flew to your mouth to muffle the sharp cry that the villain drew. He didn’t warn you before bringing his hand up high and slapping it into the bare skin of your thigh, a scream echoing through the living room. Distantly, you wondered if your neighbors could hear...

“Don’t you dare hide a single sound from me, slut, or this ends now,” his ultimatum was scary but the insult felt heavy in a way you’d never felt before, and you nodded without a second thought, breathlessly bunching one hand into the arm of the couch above you and the other into the ashy black of his hair.

You nodded down to him, silently saying to continue; the villain fixed on watching as your chest swelled in time with your breathing, a rush of blood going to the heat of his cock.

His pace was hungry, nipping at your thighs whenever he thought you were too comfortable, spinning circles into your clit with his tongue and chuckling at the noises it brought, “You gonna cum, princess?” You could only respond with a scream of his name, the plea music to his ears, but he needed you to be louder if he was to get what he wanted.

“Louder,” Dabi called your name like a prayer, moaning into your cunt as you practically suffocated him between your thighs, “Fuck—Louder, baby, scream it,”

“Dabi!!” Your orgasm was hot against his tongue and he drank in every last drop of your climax until you were wrenching away his greedy mouth, your pussy swollen and red from his care.

Just as you started to compose yourself, a frantic banging sounded on the door. Someone from the hallway was slamming down their fist, screaming your name.

“Hey! Did you just say Dabi?! Are you okay in there?” It was Kao.

Horror clawed away any kind of afterglow as you cupped your hand to your mouth, leaning up on your elbow and whispering, “What do I say?”

Dabi’s voice was just low enough to hide behind the pounding of Kao’s fists, “Do you trust me?”

Before you could answer the hero behind the wall called your name again.

“If you don’t answer me in five seconds I’m breaking this door down!”

Your gaze flickered from the front door to the villain that was wiping your slick from his chin.

“Yes,”

Dabi grinned, grabbing your wrists and holding you against his shirt, one hand wrapped painfully around your tits and the other erupting with blue fire in his palm.

“Come and get her, hero!” You made a confused squeal, thrashing around in his grasp, eyes wide and afraid as Dabi shushed into your ear, trying to calm you down.

‘Like hell if you’d calm down, he’d practically just signed your death sentence!’ you heaved against the fugitive, trying to shake yourself free to no avail.

All you could do was squeeze your eyes shut and imagine you were somewhere else as door was jolted in its hinges, the doorknob falling with a distant clang, and before you could beg Dabi to stop whatever stupid game he was playing, Kao ran into the room, eyes furrowed and fists raised as the door squeaked on the loose hinges behind him, blissfully unaware.

“Where are y—�� Kao’s voice paused mid-sentence, you flinched in Dabi’s hold, the heat of the redhead’s stare washing over you, naked and wet, making you tilt your head down, trying to hide yourself from the world.

“Isn’t she cute, hero?” Dabi rasped against you, the heat of his fire illuminated against the sweaty sheen of your trembling body. Kao didn’t know what to do, flustered and struggling to hide the tent in his latex costume.

You knew fighting back against the villain was pointless, falling limp in the strength of his arms as he chuckled into your neck, looking over at the bump in his pants, “You were right, babe, I think he likes you,”

“Get your filthy hands off of her!” Kao screamed, diving towards the couch with his fist raised back.

Dabi simply grinned, carefully hovering his flame ever closer to your now bare tits, you couldn’t help but scream at the proximity, and whatever plan Kao had in his mind died before his fist could make impact.

His novocaine laced voice spoke calmly beside your ear, “Any closer and she’s dead,” The hot rush down your legs wasn’t due to his flames, as one hand took to rubbing your sensitive sex, the sounds it elicited from you unintentional and mortifying under the presence of Kao in the room.

“What... what do you want, you bastard?” Dabi laughed at that one, tweaking your clit between his fingers and conducting the most beautiful notes from your pillowy lips.

“I think It’s pretty obvious what I want, don’t you think?” Your name on his lips sent you keening against him despite the inferno roaring inches away from your skin. He couldn’t move without Dabi’s flames hovering ever closer to your heaving chest, and to Kao, you were very clearly about to die. Although you didn’t believe Dabi would hurt you, he had asked you to trust him before he got Kao’s attention, after all, the line between foreplay and conflagration was becoming blurry.

Kao backed up into the half wall that separated the living room from the kitchen, barely making an effort to try and hide his erection anymore, “I’ll send you to fucking Tartarus for this, Dabi.”

“Oooo, scary,” His unlit hand trailed down your jawline, tilting you to his side until he could slide his tongue into your open lips, humming into your mouth, “What do you think, doll?

“Dabi, please... wait,“ The strength in your voice wasn’t as heated as before, and even you had to admit it sounded half-assed.

Kao’s quirk must be no good for long range because all he could do was stand there, trying to avert his eyes from your drooling cunt in favor of glaring daggers at the coy villain pulling soft mewls from your lips, “I swear... I’ll see you rot in prison for this. You’ll be fucking executed, you rapist—“

“—woah, woah, that stings, hero. Doll, is that really what I’m doin’?” You groaned, not exactly answering because you couldn’t hear the question, your eyes still shut tight in embarrassment.

The growl in his voice sent another soaking rush towards your pussy, as his hand grabbed you jaw, pulling you up, “Look at me,” Your eyes widened at the sight of Dabi so close to you, his chest warm against your back, the aches of your last orgasm fading into something new.

“Tell me to stop, princess, your call,” Time stood still as Dabi kissed a soft pathway along your neck, weirdly gentle as he listened for your response, his clothed hard-on pressed firmly against your ass.

Too flustered to speak, you merely wrenched your arm free from his grasp, carding you hand through his hair and pulling him to your desperate lips. You could feel him tug into a smirk against you as your hips eagerly ground themselves on him despite the audience.

Kao choked on his own spit, stepping backwards, but stopped when Dabi aimed his ignited hand towards the hero who was having difficulty piecing together your actions in his head. “What,” His voice cracked when he called out your name, “are you...?”

Dabi pulled away, a feral glint in the blue hidden beneath his hair as he licked a disgustingly wet stripe along your cheek, chest rumbling behind you as you squirmed at the gross feeling, “I’m still gonna need you to beg, sweetheart.”

Your dignity was hanging by a thread, hinging on whether or not you followed his lead, but the insane buzz your anxiety had stirred up under Kao’s confused stare and Dabi’s aching cock was impossible to ignore. He rut himself into the dripping curve of your ass, his jeans soaked with your slick as you found the courage to speak.

“Fuh...” Carefully, Dabi pressed a loving kiss to your temple, his stare fixated on Kao’s as you strung the syllables together, “Fuck me, Dabi,”

The hero couldn’t believe his ears. She’d turned him down countless times despite his pursuits, yet she was somehow fine with this? Kao briefly thought that perhaps his crush was a villain this whole time, but that couldn’t make sense with her weak quirk.

You felt Dabi twitch beneath you, the shameless way you showed yourself off was as humiliating as it was hot, and he laughed in lightheaded disbelief against the back of your neck, taking your ass in one hand and slipping the other down his pants, tugging off the painful metal zipper until his boxers were pulled down just enough for his cock to finally be met with the soft warmth of your cunt.

“As the lady commands,” Dabi grinned, reaching around your waist to take his pierced dick in his hand, rubbing and tapping his swollen head deliberately against your clit, pre-cum drenching your pussy as you felt boneless in his arms.

“Ah-! St..S-top tea-sing, Dabi!” You babbled, squirming to try and find an escape from his grasp or maybe trying to force him inside you, but all your struggling did was make him harder. But before you could beg, you froze at the sight of Kao a few feet away, his legs bending into a sprinter’s pose. He was going to run?

Dabi was having none of it, a controlled jet of flame grazing Kao’s knee, scalding the skin beneath the latex. The hero cried out into the bite of his fist, collapsing into the wall a few feet away.

“Nah, hero. You’re not leaving just yet,” The villain rearranged you on his lap, “See, the thought of you jerking off to my girl? It kinda pisses me off, actually,”

The color in Kao’s face drained as he had no choice but to sit and watch as Dabi slowly sunk you down on top of him, one hand drawing soft circles into your stomach as you reveled in the feeling of his piercings hot against every part of you.

“Though, I’m wondering, what did you think about, huh?” Kao sputtered, unable to form words just like you, formless noises falling from your lips.

His scarred hands grasped at the flesh of your thighs, raising you up only to shove you back onto his cock, the flames that still extended to threaten Kao suddenly flared up in time with his thrusts, the weight of him felt so much deeper at this angle and it was hard to breathe, let alone speak.

“I... nothing! I didn’t—“ Another whip of fire cut through the room from Dabi’s fingertips, a cast of blue leaving bubbling skin in its wake, pain flashing across Kao’s face.

“Fuckin’ liar,” You yelped as Dabi shoved you down, moaning into your ear as you squeezed against him, sobbing his name into his chest as he picked up a steady pace in your guts.

Kao cried out, stuttering and gripping along the inflamed line of skin, “I-I thought— thought about her... fuck— I just wanted her to suck me off, alright? There, I said it! Are you happy now?”

He must’ve realized the mistake in his words as soon as he said them, squeezing your eyes shut but having no choice but to smell the stench of burning flesh and hear the sound of muffled screaming as it filled your apartment, “Can’t blame you though, her mouth is God,”

Your hands scrambled for balance against Dabi as the screaming of his victim made him downright feral, filling your tight heat so well it had you crying.

“Damn, you’re soaked for me, doll, I just knew you were a kinky fuck deep down. You’re a slutty little girl for me, aren’t ya?”

As much as it hurt to admit it, he was right. He was painfully right, and you told him so. The unhinged, unstoppable force that was Dabi ignited a passion in you that’d never been fed before. He was torturing the hero you hated all while taking your cunt in deep, harsh thrusts, the metal imbedded into his cock and his chest behind you were blisteringly hot against your skin.

“Tell him, baby,” His question fell on deaf ears, your tongue lolling from your mouth a bit at the pleasure.

It caught you off guard when he drew his hand back and slapped you across the cheek, a blistering red handprint in its wake, saying your name so softly, turning off his quirk to run his hands through your hair, he whispered, “Tell that fucking hero who you belong to,”

The world tipped over as Dabi gripped your shoulders, pushing you onto the wooden coffee table so your ass stuck in the air. In an instant he was on you again, pounding into your cunt with a glazed fervor, your words downright biblical in his ears.

“On-ly... Dabi ca—Ngh, Only Dabi can fuck me this good,” You forced the words from your throat, thankful for the table serving as an impartial shoulder to cry on as Dabi lined himself up with your cunt.

“More, princess,” The snap of his hips had you drooling onto the table, catching sight of Kao’s slumped body in the corner as Dabi’s breath sounded much louder than before.

“Fuck, baby—” You cried, craning your neck back to look at him. Sweat glistened at the crown of his dark hair, steam shading his breath as he took you hard, “Your cock is— shit its so deep in me,”

Your nerves were spent from exhaustion as he railed you, being more vocal than before as he choked at the feeling of your walls tightening around him, his fingernails digging future bruises into your hip dips, “Wanna feel you cum in me, want you to fill me up— Dabi, wanna make you feel good,”

“Fuck, doll, I can’t...” He ground his teeth together, making you squeal as he mounted you from behind, spreading your legs out wide so you had no way to hide yourself, “Gonna fuck’n cum-gonna cum in you- fuck, fuck, fuck—!“

You both hit your highs at the same time, Dabi accidentally digging your face into the wood as he held you as tightly to him as possible, his cum running hot due to his quirk as he pumped you full, that broken cry of yours like music to his ears, humping you a few times to ride out his climax.

You felt warm and safe, Dabi’s weight a comfortable blanket even with your shivering skin pressed naked into the coffee table. However, the quietly groaning hero in the corner made you quickly come back down to earth.

“Dabi... did you kill him?” Your voice was small beneath him, but he just shrugged.

“Nah, not yet, don’t worry,” He kissed your neck one more time, his thumb rubbing circles into your indented stomach, pulling you off the table and back into his arms.

He pulled out of you and grinned at the sight of his release spilling down your thighs, “Damn...” he whispered, taking in the sight with a satisfied whistle, “C’mon Doll, forget about him.”

You were grateful he carried you bridal style to your bedroom, your legs gelatin at this point, and as he laid you down to rest he grabbed one of your discarded shirts that hadn’t made it to the hamper and wiped down the remains of sex from your twitching cunt before leaving the cum-stained top ignored on the ground.

“You doing good, baby? Didn’t go too hard, did I?” His concern was diminished somewhat by the grin on his face, satisfied with the mumbling, love-drunk form he’d reduced you to.

Shaking your head, you burrowed into the warm blankets, peeking your eyes out from beyond the covers in a way that even Dabi couldn’t deny was pretty cute, “No, just... what are you gonna do with Kao?”

His face was unreadable as he leaned closer, “Do you really want to know?”

Truth be told, no, you didn’t, you were just a civilian, far removed from the complex fight between heroes and villains. You were only in this situation because you’d grown to care about Dabi. In some small, sarcastic way, he’d wormed his way into your life, and he hadn’t hurt you so far, only going as close as possible to bring you over the edge again and again.

“No...”

“Good answer,” he stood up, tucking himself back into his jeans as he went back into the living room. You heard a muffled thud and what sounded like Dabi cursing before he reappeared in your bedroom, Kao’s unconscious body slung over his shoulder. For such a wiry guy, Dabi was pretty strong. Moving to the open window he basically threw Kao’s body onto the outside metal grating, his lungs uneven after carrying him.

Just as he swung his leg onto the windowsill you shot up in your bed, hand outstretched, “Wait!”

He turned back to look at you, genuinely confused as to what you could want.

“Kiss me before you go?”

He froze, then grinned, scoffing at the innocent gesture you gave so openly to a murderer like him. There had to be something wrong with his little villain-in-training to make her okay with it, just like him. Dabi ignored that thought for another day, striding forward and finally giving you the goodbye kiss you’d been denied last time, his tongue trying to map out every detail in case he could ever forget before pulling away with a warm softness to his ocean eyes.

“I think I might be starting to like you, Doll,” A feint rush of color fell on his unmarred skin and you’re sure your heart stopped beating for a good three seconds.

His words were a worn record being played over and over in your head long after he crawled down your fire escape, the teasing, sated haze in his voice hidden beneath a rasp of smoke. You weren’t sure how much he meant what he said, but you’re sure that the first thing you said in return was exactly what he wanted to hear; at least judging from the boyish smile that lit up his face when you said it.

“Come back soon, okay?”

“Okay,”

@effmigentlywithachainsaw @touyasfatcock @thicchaikyuuboys @awritersometimes @chey-the-simp

#dabi x reader #dabi #dabi x reader smut #dubcon #murder #mha #my hero academia #dabi smut #touya x reader #touya todoroki

[hoeforhops]

Us Fragile Things ― September, part one.

in which Valerie Martin and Billy Hargrove find each other for the first time in four years in a dive bar and realize the difference those four years can make.

an explicit Billy Hargrove x OFC fic. rating: explicit, 18+ word count: 10.6k cross posted to AO3. warnings: alcohol/tobacco use, unprotected sex, oral sex, fingering, vaginal sex

SEPTEMBER 1ST, 1989

Leaning back against the brick wall of the outside of the bar, Valerie Martin watched her friend cup her hands around her eyes to stare into the dark bar that was their usual hangout. It was chilly for the first of September, and she shivered slightly, wishing she’d thought to bring a jacket.

“I think they’re closed, Char,” Valerie told her with a sigh, watching as Charlotte pulled on the door handle again for good measure.

“Yeah, I know,” she said, her purple painted lips pouting as she turned around to face Valerie. “I’ve just been thinking about a $1 margarita all day, and now I feel cheated.”

Valerie huffed out a laugh as Charlotte walked away from the door with slumped shoulders.

“Do you want to try another bar, or did you just want to head straight to Amy’s? I’m fine with going home, doesn’t matter to me,” she told her roommate, imagining a quiet night to herself on the sofa at home. She’d spent more than half an hour on her hair and make up to go out, but she hardly hated the thought changing out of her heels and tights and into sweatpants.

“We’ll try somewhere else!” Charlotte was quick to say, already nodding as she looked each way down the sidewalk. “It’s our senior year, and we’re not breaking our tradition of first Friday shots just because Pinky’s is closed.” Her tone was firm, invoking the mention of tradition to keep Valerie from weaseling her way out of drinks. “Besides, this is the first year we’ve both been legal to do it, so it was supposed to be extra fun and public.”

Charlotte was like that, all about tradition and pomp and circumstance. They’d been a random pairing for roommates their freshman year of college and had barely spoken their first week until Charlotte pulled out a bottle of vodka and poured them each a healthy shot, declaring it a celebration of making it through their first week of classes. They became fast friends after that and decided to live together through the rest of their college years, becoming best friends in the process.

Valerie didn’t try to argue with her and mirrored her friend in looking up and down the street. Downtown was quieter tonight than she’d expected for a college town, “I’m pretty sure there’s a bar over on Dorsey. I’ve never been, so I’m not sure what it’s like, but I’m sure it’ll work for first Friday shots. Plus, it’s closer to Amy’s,” she said, nodding in the direction of the bar.

“Okay, yeah, that sounds good. I’ll hang around for a drink or two, then head to Amy’s,” Charlotte agreed, nodding as she linked her arm with Valerie’s to step away from Pinky’s.

As they walked, their heels clicked against the pavement, but they were silent otherwise, and Valerie’s mind wandered to how different things would be a year from now. In 365 days, she intended to be starting her first year of teaching, and Charlotte would be starting law school. Neither of them really knew where they’d end up after this year, and it scared Valerie a little more than she’d like to admit, not sure she was ready to be on her own for the first time.

The bar was well hidden between the other downtown shops that Valerie almost missed it, and as soon as she opened the door, she felt out of place. Pinky’s bordered on trendy and was usually full of college kids, but this place, who’s name Valerie couldn’t even remember, seemed hidden on purpose. It became clear quite quickly that she and Charlotte were the youngest people in the bar, which seemed to be filled with townies for the most part. Like an episode of Cheers , it felt like the whole bar seemed to turn and look at them as they walked in.

Charlotte, never one to be bothered by standing out, spotted a table in the back and pulled Valerie along with her. Most of the patrons were male, a few of them turning their heads to watch as the two of them slipped past on their way to the table. The bar was heavy with smoke and buzzing with chatter and scattered laughs. When she sat down and looked around a little more, Valerie started to feel overdressed in her heavy v-neck sweater and tight corduroy skirt she wore over snagged tights.

“Are we still sticking to vodka, like always?” Charlotte asked, still standing in anticipation of going up to the bar.

“Fine by me. Get a slice of lime too, and a PBR please,” Valerie said, making a mental note to pay her roommate back later, even if she wouldn’t take it. Charlotte nodded, smiling as she turned to go up to the bar in her tight jeans and equally tight neon blue tanktop.

Left alone for the moment, Valerie tapped her thumb against the wooden table top idly, glancing around again. This time she noticed a few people closer to their age and felt a little more at ease. There were a group of guys probably in their early to mid-twenties at the far end of the bar, and the shoulders and hair of one seemed weirdly familiar. Before she could take longer to try and place the familiarity, Charlotte returned, drinks in hand.

Valerie thanked her roommate quietly as the blonde put her requested items down in front of her before taking a seat across the table. She’d matched Valerie’s own order, smiling as she picked up her shot glass and opened her mouth.

“Time for the speech?” Valerie teased, cutting the girl off before she could even start. The comment earned her a gentle kick under the table, and they each laughed as Charlotte held the shot glass even higher.

“Of course it is, who do you think I am?” she responded, clearing her throat as he eyebrows knit together briefly. Valerie couldn’t help but roll her eyes, grinning as she too picked up her shot glass. “Three years ago, we barely knew each other, but we made it through our first week of college together. In those three years, I feel like we’ve earned the upgrade from Burnett’s to Grey Goose, and a lot has changed since then, obviously. I was in the closet, you were still a virgin.” It was Valerie’s turn to kick her under the table lightly at that, and Charlotte paused to laugh with her again. “But, here we are, our last official first Friday shots before we’re actual grown ups, and we’ve made it this far, together, and now we’ll take this shot, together, so cheers, I guess?” She ended her speech with a shrug and another quick laugh then clinking her glass against Valerie’s, and they both swallowed the shot in one go.

Grimacing as the vodka went down, Valerie reached for the lime in front of her to she sucked the juice from it to chase the liquor. Her face was twisted into a stupid expression, doing her best not to full body shudder from the shot, and she turned her said to the side, just as the familiar boy with strong shoulders and honey colored curls turned as well and looked right at her.

The shock of recognition hit Valerie hard, making her gasp and sending lime juice down the wrong pipe to make her choke. Her reaction was completely obvious and she still coughing as she turned back Charlotte who looked concerned. Her coughing caught the attention of one of the older townies at the bar who also turned to look at her before his attention returned to the beer bottle in front of him.

“Are you okay?” Charlotte asked, frowning slightly as Valerie opened her can of beer to take a drink once she was able to breath properly.

“Yeah,” Valerie croaked, clearing her throat and taking another sip of beer. God, her face was absolutely burning, and she could feel it all the way down her neck. “The guy at the bar, in the green shirt. I went to high school with him. I thought he looked familiar before I even saw his face, but it just surprised me that it was actually him, I guess.” Valerie couldn’t stop herself from sinking into her chair a little more, pushing her wavy, dark hair out of her face.

Charlotte’s eyebrows rose in interest and turned her head just enough to discreetly look in the direction that had sent her best friend into such a state of shock. “With the blonde hair?” she clarified and Valerie nodded. “Yeah, he’s still looking over here…and there he goes, his attention’s back on his friends for now.” Her shoulders relaxed slightly at that news and she took a long drink of beer as Charlotte finally opened hers. “He’s cute. What’s his name?”

“Billy Hargrove. And he knows he’s cute, trust me,” Valerie told her, scoffing quietly as her mind wandered back to Hawkins High School, over an hour away. She wished she could say she had forgotten all about Billy Hargrove, that he never crossed her mind, but that would certainly be a lie. He liked to creep into her thoughts late at night with those gorgeous eyes and his pouty mouth, making her wish she was bold and wild like he had always been.

“Yeah, I can tell just by looking at him,” Charlotte responded, unable to stop herself from laughing a little. She nudged Valerie under the table again, grinning as she sipped at her own beer. “Was he mean to you?”

“He was kind of the type that was mean to everyone, I guess, but he never like, targeted me or anything. He graduated a year ahead of me, so we only had one class together,” Valerie explained, remembering the lingering smell of smoke and his cologne that she’d gotten so used to during the semester they’d been lab partners in chemistry.

“Hm,” Charlotte responded, nodding as she mulled the words over. “You gonna just ignore him?”

“I planned on it, yeah,” she admitted, shrugging as she straightened her back some.

“Good.” The word came with a wide smile from the blonde who knocked her beer can against Valerie’s with a soft metallic clink .

The two of them chatted comfortably for a while, nursing their beers as they felt the Grey Goose shots hit. Charlotte was her usual happy self, talking about what Jerry, the asshole in all of her economics courses, had said earlier while Valerie tried to forget about the blast from the past up at the bar. She was only half listening really, trying to remember the last time she’d even seen Billy Hargrove. His graduation, probably. She had heard he’d picked up a job at the Hawkins pool that summer and in turn, avoided that place like nobody’s business.

Just as she was tipping the PBR back to swallow the last of it, the bartender brought over another beer and sat it in front of her.

“I didn’t order this,” Valerie was quick to say, practically leaning back from the can on the table.

“A guy at the bar sent it over, said he thinks he knows you,” the man told her with a shrug that said ‘I’m just doing my job.’ As the bartender stepped away, he took the empty shot glasses and beer cans with him, one of each stained with Charlotte’s purple lipstick and the rim of the others stained with the wine color of Valerie’s.

The man’s words made Charlotte let out a bark of laughter as soon as he stepped away, bringing a hand up to cover her mouth a second later as Valerie grimaced. “Damn, and I was just gonna get up to head to Amy’s,” Charlotte said, sounding truly disappointed that contact had been made right as she was about to leave. She sighed softly, glancing at the watch on her wrist. “I can stay if you want me to.” Her tone was almost hopeful and she was grinning in a way that said she herself wanted to stay to see how it all unfolded.

Valerie thought on it for a moment, pressing her lips together before shaking her head. “No, it’s alright, go see your girlfriend. I’ll probably head home soon anyway. Tell Amy I said hi,” she said, smiling as convincingly as she could manage. Charlotte pouted a bit but shrugged, getting to her feet and coming around to hug Valerie from the side.

“Okay,” she said, dragging the word out as an exaggerated whine then grinning wildly. “I’ll see you tomorrow!” Valerie nodded and matched her roommate’s smile as the girl took off.

With Charlotte gone, Valerie reached for the beer in front of her, opening it as she ran her tongue along her teeth and took a drink. She was doing her best to will herself not to turn around and look to see if Billy was still there, but the buzz of the shot and the first beer made it harder not to give into that urge. If she knew what was good for her, she would’ve left with Charlotte and walked home, pretending that she hadn’t seen or thought of Billy Hargrove at all. She didn’t want to know him anymore, didn’t want to know anything about Hawkins, Indiana, didn’t want to be or know the person she was when he’d last seen her.

Tipsy and stewing in the thoughts she usually buried until late at night when she was thinking about endless ‘what if’s, Valerie didn’t notice Billy walking toward her table until it was too late. He stood behind Charlotte’s empty chair, both hands on it like he was contemplating sitting down as he looked at her. Valerie blinked at him, just barely tilting her head up and hoping she didn’t look too wide-eyed. From his expression, she gathered he was still trying to place who she was.

“Thanks for the drink,” she said finally, raising her eyebrows once before taking a sip of the beer in her hand. He looked so good that she was surprised she hadn’t stumbled over the words. His hair was a little shorter than she remembered and he was, so far, lacking the passive scowl he’d always worn.

Billy scoffed, grinning with the slightest hint of a dimple. “Is that really all you’re gonna give me here?” he said, clearly dragging his tongue along the edge of his teeth.

“You gonna sit down?” Valerie asked, straightening up in her seat in an effort to look more confident than she actually felt.

She watched as Billy’s jaw clenched briefly as he looked back toward his friends still at the bar, then pulled the chair out to sit down. Somehow, Valerie decided, this was worse. He seemed closer now, much more in her space, and she subconsciously tucked her feet under her chair as if accidentally nudging him would make him vanish into thin air. Billy was still looking at her and she swore she could hear the gears churning in his head.

“I know that I know you,” he said, leaning forward in his seat with his elbows on the table. Valerie nodded once, the corners of her mouth aching with the urge to grin. “If I buy you another drink, will you give me a hint?”

Damn, that was a smooth line.

“Get me the drink first,” she said, a smug smile sliding onto her face. Thank god for alcohol, honestly. As she took a long sip of the beer in her hand to finish it off, Valerie couldn’t help but feel powerful and mysterious as she set the empty can down on the table top.

Billy looked impressed, nodding once just as Valerie had earlier, and got to his feet. “You want another beer, or a shot of whatever it was you choked on earlier?” The question caught her off guard as he lingered at the table and she laughed, bringing a hand up to tuck her hair behind her ear.

“Vodka shot, with a lime wedge,” Valerie said, actually smiling a little this time. He didn’t say anything else before starting towards the bar, and Valerie let herself exhale. None of this felt real, and she found herself staring at Billy’s back as he stood at the bar, wondering if he’d disappear otherwise.

“If I’m being honest here, I never thought Val Martin would be one to shoot vodka,” he said when he returned, offering a wink as he sat the shot glass and lime down in front of her. Valerie’s head had shot up to meet his eye at the mention of the nickname, realizing he had been the last, and only person, to call her that.

“Took you long enough,” she responded as Billy took his seat across from her again. He held her gaze, and smirked. “Let me guess, so many girls, so little time?” There was a teasing tone to her voice, enjoying the chance to potentially bring his ego down a bit.

“Ouch, that was brutal,” Billy said, putting a hand on his heart as he leaned back in his chair a little. He’d gotten a shot for himself as well, a brown liquor, but she wasn’t sure exactly what.

“What did you think my shot of choice was then?” Valerie asked, leaning into the table a little a she picked up her shot glass.

“Tequila. Jack, maybe,” he said, shrugging slightly as he grinned. He mirrored her action, picking up his shot all while maintaining eye contact with her. “Cheers to the angel who’s the only reason I graduated.”

Valerie couldn’t argue with that. With a tight smile, she brought her glass to clink against his, and they only looked away from each other to swallow down the shots. Her face pinched as she sucked on the lime a second later, opening her eyes again to find Billy watching her, just glad she hadn’t choked this time.

With the empty glasses on the table, they were both silent for a moment, and knew that Billy hadn’t been exaggerating what he’d said. He’d told her the same thing after their chemistry final.

“I never thought I’d see you anywhere near Indiana again, dead or alive,” Valerie said to break the silence. Her buzz was growing, and she leaned to rest an elbow on the table, resting her chin in her palm as she looked at him. She was pretty sure he’d swore that exact thing to her at least twice before.

“I left for a while after high school, moved back to California for a couple of years,” he explained, hesitating just slightly and stopping there for a moment. “I just moved to town a couple of months ago. My sister’s just started college here, it was cheaper for us to move here together and get a place.”

“Max, right? I sat next to her at graduation,” Valerie said, but she knew she was right. She remembered how firmly he’d remind people that Max was his step -sister, not his sister. People usually learned pretty quickly not to make that mistake again.

“You came to my graduation?” Billy asked, his eyebrows coming together in an expression she couldn’t quite read.

Valerie’s cheeks flushed slightly and she pursed her lips. “You weren’t the only one graduating, y’know. My brother, Ian, was in your class,” she informed him, leaning back in her seat as she crossed her arms over her chest.

Billy nodded and was quiet for a moment. “Do you go here too?” he said finally, meeting her eye as he toyed with his empty shot glass idly.

The question surprised her. She’d never heard Billy Hargrove ask someone a question about themselves so casually like that. Thinking back, she wasn’t even sure he’d ever asked her anything about herself, period.

“Yeah, I’m graduating with my education degree in May,” she told him, and the grin that spread across his face made her heart race inside her chest.

“You gonna be a chemistry teacher?” he asked, and Valerie couldn’t help the way she laughed girlishly as she shook her head.

“Social studies is my focus, so I can teach history, and geography. Stuff like that,” she explained, his gaze on her so intent that it took effort not to squirm in her seat.

“You’ll be a good teacher,” he said after a pause with such sincerity that 17 year old Valerie would’ve never thought he could muster. The compliment made her cheeks turn rosy and she smiled, feeling the same warmth in her chest as when he had thanked her for her help after their chemistry final.

Valerie had forgotten how….entrancing it was to hold Billy Hargrove’s full attention like this. He’d always been so easily distracted by a passing pretty face or short skirt, always being greeted by passerbyers in the library when she’d helped him with his chemistry work that there had been a few times they’d had to meet in empty classrooms just to get him to focus. Being alone with him, it was easy to tell why he did so well for himself with the ladies. He had this way of making girls feel like they were the only person in the world, the only person he’d ever even seen. Even now, it was working like a charm, leaving Valerie willing to do backflips or cartwheels just to keep his attention like this.

“What about you, huh? What are you doing with your life now that you’re back in our fine Hoosier state?” Valerie asked after collecting herself a little, an easy smile on her face. She was toeing the line of drunkenness, waiting for that last shot to hit.

Billy grimaced at the mention of the state nickname, shaking his head. “Don’t ever fucking say that word around me again,” he said, his tone light as he cracked a grin. Valerie actually laughed, nodding in agreement before he continued. “I picked up a factory gig in Hawkins when we were living there, and absolutely fucking hated it. When we moved up here, I worked a few odd jobs, but I started a full time spot in the kitchen in that fancy hotel by the interstate a few weeks ago, mostly doing prep stuff.”

It was such a mundane conversation, but Valerie was practically hanging on every word he said. She was back to resting her chin in her hand, leaning into the table and smiling idly as she listened. Honestly, she wasn’t sure if she was just drunk or if this Billy was different somehow. She hasn’t seen him scowl once, hasn’t sense even a tinge of the ever present anger that had absolutely hung around him like a dark cloud in high school.

“How did Max do with her first week of classes?” Valerie asked, hearing her words just barely slur at the end.

Billy shrugged, sighing. “Fine, I guess. She’s mostly taking gen eds, and is already bitching about that writing course that all of the freshmen have to take.”

Valerie scrunched her nose up at the memory of that class, looking down at her empty shot glass as she fiddled with it nervously. “Yeah, that one fucking sucks. Let her know I’m happy to help if she wants me to proofread or anything for her.” She looked up and met Billy’s eye easily, knowing her face was flushed.

“I’ll tell her, and she’ll probably take you up on that. She’s still a little pissed at me for telling her to go to college in the first place,” he admitted, laughing once as he glanced toward the group he’d started the night with.

“Do you need to get back to your friends?” Valerie asked, licking her lips quickly as she glanced at the clock on the wall. It was nearly midnight already, surprised by how long they spent sitting there and catching up.

“Nah, they’ll be alright. They’re guys I work with, still don’t know some of their names yet,” he said, shrugging one shoulder as he leaned back in his chair a little more. Valerie was having a hard time taking her eyes off him and she nodded, her toes curling inside her heels as he held her gaze.

“I’m surprised to find the former keg king of Hawkins hanging out at some townie bar like this when you could be chasing tail at a party closer to campus,” she told him, biting her lip.

Billy grinned and shifted in his seat again. “Believe it or not, that’s not really my scene anymore,” he said and had the audacity to wink at her.

Valerie’s eyebrows shot up, looking impressed as she nodded. “If I hadn’t seen it myself, I would never have believed it,” she responded, her hand coming up to tuck her hair behind her ear. “If I had a drink, I’d suggest a toast to personal growth, but obviously, I’m out and not in need of any more alcohol tonight.” She was smiling by the end of it, giggling slightly in a way that she’d hate herself for if she was sober. Billy laughed with her and the sound warmed her to the core.

“I could say the same about you though, honestly. All dressed up and gorgeous to hang in this dive? Doesn’t sound much like the Val I remember,” he said, sucking his teeth as he looked her over once with that slow gaze that made her forget how to breathe.

And there it was, the flirting, the cocky attitude, and the tone that had lured in so many girls in Hawkins. She’d been sucked right into it and was damn near helpless to stop it. It was like the thing about throwing frogs into boiling water and they jump out, but if you put them in the pot and gradually raise the temperature, they don’t realize the trap until it’s too late.

Had this all been a trap? Curiosity was already eating at her, wondering what had made him change like this. If he has actually changed at all. Calling Max his sister, speaking so freely about himself and asking personal questions about herself were far from things the Billy she remembered would do so willingly, let alone with a smile. Was this all a gimmick, and he was just telling her what she wanted to hear? It certainly wouldn’t be the first time he’d made that ploy work for himself.

“Well, it didn’t seem like you remembered me at all, so what do you know?” she shot back with a crooked smile as soon as she remembered how to string together a sentence. Valerie was trying to sound playful but wasn’t sure it came across that way. Billy seemed surprised by the words, but that didn’t stop him from grinning. “I only ended up here because our usual bar was closed for some reason. I came out with my roommate earlier, but she took off for her girlfriend’s for the night.”

Billy nodded slowly, licking his lips before he leaned forward so his elbows were resting against the table top. Valerie’s drunken instinct told her to lean back, but she held her ground, keeping eye contact with him until his gaze dropped to her mouth.

“Small fucking world, huh? And you’ve got no boyfriend of your own to keep you occupied tonight?” he asked, his voice low like it was a secret to be shared between them.

Valerie let out a huff of laughter. “That’s an awfully bold question,” she said, trying to ignore the way her heart was pounding in her chest.

“Just trying to do my due diligence before asking if you wanna get out of here,” he responded, leaning forward even more as Valerie sucked in a breath and froze.

The sounds of the bar around them had faded out and she found herself fighting the urge to lean forward more, just as he had. She was practically hanging on every word that left that plush mouth of his, forgetting that it was her turn to say something.

The laugh that bubbled from her surprised Valerie even, bringing a hand up to her mouth to cover the sound. “Are you serious?” she asked, grinning widely.

Billy frowned slightly, wondering if he was about to get shut down completely. “Yeah?” he responded with a slightly defensive edge to his voice.

“Thought that wasn’t your scene anymore,” she said, tilting her head up a little more in an effort to seem confident, like she wasn’t warm all over at the thought of him taking her home.

“Just because I don’t party much anymore doesn’t mean I’m not gonna jump at the chance to take you home and thank you properly for carrying my ass through high school chemistry.” His grin had returned, like a lion playing with its food.

Valerie’s back stiffened, realizing he was completely serious. Biting the inside of her cheek, she tried to think of a way to respond that wasn’t too eager, when really she was so close to bolting for the door and dragging him along with her.

When she didn’t respond right away, Billy leaned a little closer if it was even possible and met her eye with what seemed to be a more vulnerable softness. “Wanna know something?” he asked, and Valerie was nodding before he even finished the last word. “I knew who you were the second you walked in. Even looked over here a few times before you caught me. Didn’t know if you’d want to see me, and was curious to see how long you’d leave me hanging, trying to guess who you were.”

Valerie still hadn’t fully decided if she thought this was a game to him, if he was playing her and trying out new angles to work to pick up girls. But right then, with that, she didn’t even care. It didn’t matter to her if it was, just like it didn’t matter if he was still the same philandering, unattached asshole he’d been in high school. This could’ve been a trap for her from the get go and he could be gone in the morning never to be heard from again, but goddamn she wanted him. Swallowing thickly, she glanced at the door then looking back at Billy.

“My apartment’s only a couple of blocks from here,” she said, practically blurting it out like she couldn’t say it fast enough as she held his gaze. He nodded once and got to his feet, waiting for her to do the same before they headed to the exit. Billy waved to the group he’d been with, but otherwise didn’t say goodbye, too focused on relocating.

It was colder outside than Valerie remembered, a shiver running through her when they stepped onto the sidewalk. She swayed a little on her feet, taking a deep breath of cool air and wishing she hadn’t worn heels. Billy kept close, hand finding the small of her back as she swayed.

“You good?” he asked, grinning when she blinked at him.

“Yeah, I’m okay, just haven’t stood up since I started drinking, that’s all,” she responded, tilting her head up a little more to look at him. He looked beautiful in the glow of the street lamps and she easily could’ve stood there for far too long, just looking at him.

“You wanna lead the way?” he questioned, reaching into his pocket to pull out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. She shook her head when he offered her one, but started toward her place with Billy close on her heels.

The cold air outside did little to cool Valerie down as they walked, her cheeks still rosy from the alcohol. Now that this was actually happening, she remembered that her room wasn’t entirely unpacked yet and most of the apartment was still a mess. She was wearing floral printed, cotton panties under her tights that were far from the sexy lingerie she would’ve liked to be wearing if Billy Hargrove was about to strip her naked.

“Did you run out of things to say to me now that you’ve locked me down for the night?” Billy asked after a moment of walking in near silence.

Valerie scoffed, shaking her head. “Not really,” she said, glancing up at him to see him take a drag from his cigarette. “Just busy regretting the choice to wear heels and ugly underwear tonight.” No point in hiding it, she supposed.

The laugh he let out surprised her. It was loud and genuine, making a pair of girls walking on the opposite side of the street turn their heads to glance at them. Valerie laughed with him, hugging her arms around herself as she shivered again.

“You cold?” he questioned, his arm sliding around her shoulders easily the second she nodded. Leaning into him was easy, happily leeching some of his warmth as they turned onto her street. He smelled different than she remembered and before she could remind herself that it was weird to remember how he smelled, she was saying it.

“Did you switch colognes?” she asked, looking up at her with a creased brow.

“Yeah,” he told her, chuckling softly and not elaborating further. “You seem nervous.”

“Do I?” Valerie responded, not bothering to try and deny it. He nodded simply, grinning.

“How much further?”

“At the end of the street. Why, you getting impatient?” she shot back, watching him flick the spend bud of his cigarette into the road.

“Maybe. Should’ve kissed you earlier outside the bar, and I’m getting tired of of waiting,” he said, both of them stopping on the sidewalk.

“What stopped you earlier?” she asked, arms crossing over her chest again as she slid out from under the arm that was around her shoulders.

“The fact that you almost fell over the second we got outside,” Billy told her, still grinning as he watched her.

“Okay, that’s fair,” she said, the first bit of laughter barely having the chance to leave her before his mouth was on hers.

It surprised her more than it should have, but she was quick to relax against him, bringing an arm up to settle around his shoulders. The kiss was softer than she would’ve expected from him and one hand cupped her jaw to keep her close. Billy sighed into her mouth softly, his tongue sliding along her bottom lip and leaving her to press closer to him. Valerie forgot that she was cold and forgot that they were in the middle of the sidewalk, too consumed by the relatively simple kiss and the way his arm had looped around her waist to keep her against him.

Valerie’s eyes stayed closed for a short second after he pulled away, only to press another shorter, almost chaste kiss to her lips before squeezing her around the waist and pulling back to slip his hand into hers. Somehow, that simple gesture, even if it was to just get her moving again, was the most surprising of the night so far.

By the time they made it into the entry way of her building, away from the cold night, Billy’s patience had worn even thinner, pressing her up against the wall right inside the door. His mouth was on hers again before the door even shut behind them, his hand settling on the back of her neck as he kissed her firmly. It was easy to melt against him, gripping the fabric of his shirt in one hand as she hummed into the kiss.

“We’ve got to get up to the third floor,” she managed to say, the words half muffled by his mouth. Billy made a sound of indifference, like he wouldn’t be opposed to fucking her right there, and that idea wouldn’t be completely wasted on Valerie aside from the fact that she didn’t want to get off on the wrong foot with her neighbors. His tongue slid along hers, making her knees weak as she leaned back into the wall for support.

He pulled back finally, licking his bottom lip and Valerie took the opportunity to slip away from him, taking his hand to pull him toward the stairs. They made it up a whole two flights before Billy was on her again, hands on her hips to pull her flush against him. His mouth found hers with such ease and intensity that the irritated noise she let out faded into a moan. Valerie realized as she tried to force herself to pull away, to get up that last set of stairs, that she’d never been kissed like this.

When she let her teeth catch on his bottom lip, she was rewarded with a moan from him and the sound vibrated through her, all the way to her fingertips. Valerie took the chance to pull away from him with a grin, sprinting up the steps as quickly as she dared to finally reach the door to her apartment. Fishing in the pocket of her skirt for her keys, she glanced over her shoulder to see Billy grinning widely as he followed right behind her.

Her hands were shaking as she tried to fit the key into the lock only to be distracted further by the way he swept her hair to the side to press an openmouthed kiss to the back of her neck. Cursing under her breath, she nearly fumbled her keys as she pressed her ass back toward him, loving the way his hand slid along the curve of her waist.

“Oh, thank god,” she breathed, finally turning the key in the lock to push the door open. Turning, her arm looped around his neck and let him walk her back into the dark apartment.

When the door clicked shut behind them, Billy really seemed to unleash, all hot desperate kisses and wandering hands. She arched against him when his fingers just barely swept under the hem of her sweater, already squeezing her thighs together in the hopes of alleviating the dull ache that had started there. Like he couldn’t feel enough of her, his hand slid down to squeeze her ass with a satisfied hum.

Just as her lungs were burning from the lack of oxygen, his mouth left hers to settle on her throat, and she took a deep, shaking breath as she pressed herself against him more. The blunt edge of his teeth grazed over her pulsepoint to make her gasp as she tilted her head back further.

“Where’s your room?” he asked, nosing at her jaw then pressing another firm, but gentler kiss to her mouth. She stayed there for a beat longer, enjoying the kiss before forcing herself to untangle from him.

Valerie kicked off her heels and Billy did the same with his boots, the slight height difference between them became larger. She took his hand and pulled him through the living room to reach her door. Eagerness and desperation outweighed her need to apologize for the place being such a mess, and behind the closed door of her bedroom, her confidence took off.

Biting her lip, she put a hand on Billy’s chest to push him back against the door and it surprised her how willingly he moved. Tilting her head up, she kissed him firmly again, enjoying the way his hands immediately settled on her ass again. The kiss was short lived though, impatience getting the best of her when she leaned away just enough to pull her sweater off and toss it aside carelessly.

“Holy shit, V,” he breathed, eyes adjusted well enough in the darkness to make out her topless form. The further abbreviation of her name made her grin as he brought a hand up to cup her through the material of her bra, his mouth already moving back to hers.

Valerie felt like she was vibrating, absolutely buzzing as she leaned into him, moaning when he licked into her mouth. Her hands came down to start untucking his shirt eagerly, only getting halfway done with the task before moving onto work on his belt buckle. When Billy nipped at her bottom lip hard enough to hurt, she gasped into the kiss, the sound fading to a moan.

When she finally managed to get his belt buckle open, she worked on the fly of his jeans next with shaking hands, still letting him control the kiss as he leaned back against the door. After dragging the zipper down, her hand slid into his jeans to cup him through the fabric of his underwear. Even half hard like he was now, his size was impressive, making her whine in anticipation as her mouth left his.

They blinked at each other for a short moment, breathing heavily to the point of panting in the dark room. In the glow of the street light flooding in through the window, Valerie could see her lipstick smudged along his mouth. Before he had the opportunity to pull her back to him, she sank to her knees in front of him, enjoying the pleased hum that he let out, fully aware of what she was doing.

Billy watched her closely as she bit her kiss swollen lip, looking up at him as she tugged his jeans and briefs down enough to free his cock. His hand found the back of her head, fingers tangling in her dark hair to guide her forward where he wanted her. She moved easily for him, lips already parted to take the head of his cock between them as she glanced up at him again through her lashes.

With the pair of them already so keyed up and eager, Valerie knew there was no point in teasing him. She took the rest of his length into her mouth and his hand tensed in her hair in a way that made her whine around him as she started to bob her head.

“Fucking hell, Val,” he muttered, watching as his dick disappeared between her lips and down her throat. “Been thinkin’ about this since chemistry. Used to watch you chew on your pen and pop your gum, drove me fuckin’ crazy.”

He knew exactly what she wanted to hear, spurring her on as he hit the back of her throat. She bobbed her head faster, letting her eyes close as he cursed above her again. Alternating between sucking and sliding her tongue along him, she shifted slightly on her knees, finding it hard to focus on what she was doing with the throbbing ache between her thighs.

Her hand came up to his thigh, feeling the tension and restraint in him, and she squeezed him there, hoping to encourage him further. Taking a deep breath through her nose, she relaxed her jaw to take him down her throat a little more, not caring about getting a little sloppy with it at that point. Billy seemed to take her hint and rocked his hips sharply, using the hand in her hair to keep her in place for him. Heat prickled down her spine and her lungs burned from the lack of oxygen, but the sounds of approval he let out were more than worth it.

He pulled out of her mouth a moment later and Valerie’s hand was quick to settle her hand around his length as she caught her breath. He somehow felt bigger in her hand than he had in her mouth, stroking him from base to tip, and leaning in again to flick her tongue over the head of his dick. If she didn’t feel so rushed and needy, she would’ve taken the time to appreciate his cock and his body properly, but that would have to wait.

“Come up here, angel, fuck,” he told her, swallowing thickly as he untangled his hand from her hair. Her knees shook as she got to her feet and his hands were on her quickly, pulling her body flush up against his.

When he kissed her, Valerie gasped into his mouth, so eager for him that she would barely keep still. His cock was pinned between them, pressing against her stomach as he unfastened her bra with ease. It struck her that he was still fully dressed, and she was just about to start pulling at the fabric of his shirt when his thumb dragged over the hardened peak of her nipple to make her moan loudly.

“Go get on the bed, V, let me see you,,” he said, his tone so dark and commanding that a shiver ran through her. He kissed her again, hard and quick, then let her slip away.

Billy was close behind her, tugging his shirt off and not bothering to fix his pants as he closed in on her. She had settled on the edge of the bed and leaned back, watching him approach with a self-satisfied grin. Matching her expression, his hand came up to hold her jaw briefly as he kissed her hungrily, before ducking his head to suck her nipple into his mouth.

“Oh, fuck, Billy,” she whined, already arching toward him and squeezing her thighs together. He figured out pretty quickly what she was doing, and settled a knee between her legs, earning a sound of irritation out of her that he followed with a chuckle.

“You that needy for me, sweetheart? Can’t fucking wait for me to touch you?” he questioned, mouth barely off her breath as he glanced up at her.

Not even giving her a chance to respond, he was leaning back again, both hands pushing under her skirt to tug down her tights and panties all in the same motion. He let the fabric drop to the floor, eyes sliding over her nearly naked frame with a slight smirk, like he couldn’t decide what he wanted next. Valerie realized she was nearly holding her breath, staring up at him and admiring the lines of his body.

His hand slid up the inside of her thigh, disappearing under her skirt again, and her legs parted further instinctively as she willed herself not to shake under his touch. When his fingers slid through her folds, Valerie cursed loudy, her head falling back against the mattress.

“Val, baby, you are so fucking soaked, holy shit,” Billy said, his tone practically dripping with lust by then. She could only nod silently, her hips rocking to try and meet the teasing motion of his fingers. “All this just from sucking my cock, huh?”

“ Billy! ” she groaned out insistently through clenched teeth, hating that he wasn’t giving her what she wanted. Her reaction only made his smirk grow, purposely avoiding her clit as his two fingers teased her.

“I’ve got you, don’t worry,” he told her, leaning over her enough that he could kiss her hungrily and swallowing the sound she let out when he sank two fingers into her. His hand settled on the mattress next to her head to support himself, curling his fingers inside her to see what other sounds he could get out of her.

Valerie’s arm slipped around him, her hand settling on the back of his head and letting her fingers tangle in his hair just as he’d done earlier. She was tight around his digits as they started to pump into her and he was fully entranced by the soft gasps and hums she kept loosing into his mouth.

Billy trailed hot kisses down the column of her throat, sucking and nipping gently at her skin as her breathing quickened. Her nails sank into his scalp and he hissed against her at the feeling, loving the way she couldn’t seem to keep her hips still. When he pressed his thumb to her clit to rub firm circles against the bundle of nerves, Valerie did her best to keep from crying out, already desperate for a release of the pressure that was building in her.

“That feel good, Val?” he asked, his lips leaving the side of her breast after sucking a mark into her skin. She whimpered in response, nodding quickly as her other hand gripped the sheets. “Say it, angel, let me hear you.” The motion of his fingers fucking into her had sped up, curling to try and find the spot inside her that would get her to scream for him.

Valerie huffed out an incredulous breath, absolutely hating that he wouldn’t just give her what she wanted. If his mouth wasn’t already occupied with teasing at her nipple, he would’ve chuckled, loving that streak of bossiness, near brattiness in her.

“Yeah, feels good, fuck,” she panted out, squirming as she tried to press herself closer to him in any ways she could. Her hand in his hair tightened enough to make him hiss as she dragged his mouth back up to hers.

The kiss was filthy, all tongues and teeth as his fingers fucked into her. Her hand on the back of his head slid down to grip his shoulder, whining as his name as she clenched around him. She was so wet that she could hear it as he toyed with her, the friction of the heel of his palm against her clit making her eyes roll back. Billy fit a third finger into her, pulling back just enough to watch her expression change.

“You gonna cum for me, baby girl? You want it so bad, don’t you?” he murmured to her, the words just barely audible over the sounds of their heavy breathing.

Nodding frantically, Valerie cursed, still trying to roll her hips against his hand. “Billy, please,” she whimpered, unsure what she was even pleading for by then. Her mind was clouded with lust, unable to think of anything beyond her desperation for him.

“Go ahead, V, cum all over my hand, show me how bad you want my cock,” he told her, his mouth attaching to her pulse point. Her arm tightened around his shoulders, nails sinking into his skin as she gave into her desperation.

Valerie came with another loud whine of his name, bucking against his hand for whatever friction he could get. He had pulled back to watch her and was murmuring praises to her that she could barely hear over the roaring of her heartbeat in her ears, her body tense as pleasure coursed through her. Billy’s fingers never stopped, pushing into her roughly, hungrily to see how long he could drag her orgasm out for.

God, she was stunning with the way her eyes changed as she came, the way she arched against him for as much contact as she could get. Billy was absolutely hooked, his eyes moving over her face as she came down and leaning to press light kisses to her jaw and mouth. His fingers were still pumping into her, albeit slowly, loving how drenched she was for him.

Valerie had all but melted into the mattress, her eyes closed as she tried to catch her breath, only faintly aware of Billy’s warmth above her. Her hips twitched toward his hand slightly, a quiet gasp leaving her as he continued to tease her. His fingers left her a second later as he shifted, leaning into her a little more as he kissed her.

In their new position, his dick was pressed against her stomach again, making her whine in anticipation. He smirked against her mouth, loving how reactive she was to him then he pulled back to get to his feet to shed his pants.

“You got condoms, angel?” he asked, kicking his jeans and underwear aside as he watched her.

Valerie shook her head, slipping out of her skirt finally to be just as naked as Billy was. “Just moved in, haven’t gotten any yet,” she said, pressing her thighs together as she waited for him. “I’m on the pill though, you can just pull out if you want.”

Nodding, Billy nudged her legs open with a smirk before settling over her again. With one hand beside her head to support himself over her, the other came down to guide her knee over his hip. His mouth crashed hard against hers with renewed desperation when the head of his cock slid through her folds, making them both groan.

“Fuck, you’re so goddamn sexy, Val,” he murmured into her mouth, letting his teeth catch on her bottom lip. Her hips canted up toward him eagerly as she let out another needy sound.

“Stop making me wait,” she groaned out, and he chuckled at the irritation in her tone, letting the head of his cock tease at her entrance.

“Oughta make you beg for it, sweetheart, see how long that brattiness lasts when you’re desperate for me like this,” he mused, loving the way her eyes flashed with panic at the thought. He was kidding himself if he thought he could wait any longer to be buried inside her, and without waiting for a retort from her, he finally pushed into her all at once.

The tight slide of his cock filling her made Valerie gasp, her arm immediately looping around his shoulders again as her hips angled up toward him, already wanting him deeper. In the low light of the room, he could tell that her pupils were blown and his surely were too, transfixed by how she felt around him. She could feel him through every inch of her, just enough to take the edge off her desperation as she practically purred for him. His hand was still holding her under the knee, forcing her leg a little higher and squeezing her there as he let his hips grind against her.

“Shit, that’s good, baby,” he breathed, pulling back each enough that he nearly slipped out and fucking back into her. The motion earned a loud moan from Valerie, whose hand moved to twist in his curls again. His mouth found her throat again, nipping at her skin before his tongue soothed over the spot as he set a hungry pace.

“God, Billy,” she sighed out, her tone so sweet and needy that he could’ve came right there on the spot. Valerie used the hand in his hair to guide his mouth back up to hers to kiss him desperately, letting her heel dig into the small of his back for leverage to rock against him.

His forehead pressed against hers as he caught his breath, eyes dropping slightly to watch his cock sink into her as her breasts bounced with the motion of his thrusts. Valerie’s jaw was clenched, trying to hold back the slew of whines and curses that threatened to leave her, but the second he met her eye again, that all went out the window.

“Touch yourself for me, Val, rub your clit,” he told her, his voice rough with restraint. He knew he wasn’t going to last as long for her as he’d like, but he’d be damned if he didn’t get to feel her cum around his dick. In a truly perfect world, he’d have the patience to make her cum half a dozen times before even fucking her, but desperation quickly took over.

Valerie did as she was told for once, slipping a hand between them to rub firm circles against the swollen bundle of nerves. The added stimulation made her clench around him and his hips slammed hard into hers. She was absolutely soaked, desperate for whatever else he could give her as she chased another orgasm.

He leaned away from her slightly, hovering over her to fuck into her at a different angle that made her eyes roll back. The head of his cock dragged over her g-spot with each thrust, making her toes curl as her hand continued to rub her clit. With her dark hair fanned out around her and that hazy, blissed out look in her eye, Billy wasn’t sure he’d ever seen anything so stunning.

“You gonna be a good girl and cum for me again?” he asked, bringing his free hand up to cup her breast. His thumb grazed over the hard peak of her nipple and couldn’t help but smirk at the way she trembled beneath him as she nodded. Billy’s eyes dropped to her mouth quickly and was leaning in to kiss her again before could stop himself.

Valerie came apart quickly after that, dragging her nails over his shoulder as she moaned into his mouth, practically clinging to him as if she’d float away otherwise. His brow was set in a tense line as he fucked her through her orgasm, trying to hold back his own for just a little longer. When she tugged at his bottom lip with her teeth, he swore loudly and pulled out, forehead pressing against hers as he spilled hot onto her stomach with a groan.

“Fucking hell,” he breathed, letting his lips drag along her jaw as they both panted heavily. Valerie nodded in agreement, her eyes closed as she dropped her head back against the bed. Her arm was still around his neck, fingers lightly moving over his shoulder as she waited her her body to stop buzzing.

She was still shaking slightly when he kissed her, taking his time and her fingers moved up to his hair again to keep him there. This was nice, she decided. She hadn’t expected him to kiss her like this after , but she certainly wouldn’t complain about it.

Billy’s thumb brushed along her cheek softly and pulled back, their eyes meeting for a moment in the dark. His gaze briefly dropped to her mouth when she licked her lips, then pushed off of her to get to his feet.

“You got a towel or something?” he asked, moving around in the dark to look for his pants.

“What?” she responded, her mind still foggy to the point that she hadn’t comprehended a word he’d said.

“A towel, d’you have one handy? Figured I ought to at least be a gentleman and wipe my cum off your stomach,” he said, glancing looking around as best as he could in the hopes of answering his own question.

“Oh,” Valerie laughed softly, happily admiring his frame as he stepped into his briefs. “Yeah, on the chair at my desk.” She tucked an arm behind her head comfortably, drawing a knee up to rest on foot flat against the mattress.

Billy returned with the towel, eyes flickering to her tits as he wiped up the mess he’d left on her stomach. She thanked him softly, biting her lip as she continued to watch him, not sure what to do or say at that point. Part of her had expected him to get dressed and leave without a word the second he’d pulled away, so this was all unexpected.

“Mind if I smoke?” he asked, picking up his jeans and fishing in the pockets already. Another surprise.

“Just crack the window, do it over there,” she told him, shifting to sit up more and leaning back on her hands. He scoffed softly like he was annoyed by her response, but she caught a glimpse of a grin as he turned toward the window.

When Valerie got to her feet, her knees were still shaking slightly, and she was still throbbing and slick between her thighs as she slipped on the short silk robe hung on the back of her door. Holding it closed around himself, she followed him toward the window where he had cracked it like she said. He watched her as she moved toward him, lighting the cigarette between his lips.

The street light outside her window cast a yellow glow over them as she mirrored his position, facing him as she leaned against the wall on the opposite side of the window. Their eyes met and held, both trying to get a read on the other. He looked damn near godlike in the low light, even with his hair a mess from her hands. Valerie doubted she looked even better, and she found herself chewing on the inside her of cheek before looking out the window.

“You want me to stick around?” Billy said after a minute.

Her eyebrow raised as she looked back to him, taken aback by the question. Was this part of his game, trying to gauge how clingy she was or something?

“Up to you, I guess,” she said, holding her hand out for the cigarette. That seemed to surprise him, his eyes dropping to her outstretched hand. He actually rolled his eyes, taking another drag before handing it to her.

Valerie watched him through her lashes as she lifted the cigarette to her lips, unable to read him. Her lungs burned but she managed not to cough, considering she hadn’t smoked a cigarette in years. The corner of his mouth twitched up into a grin briefly and turned his head to look out the window.

“I’ve got work at 8:30, so I’ll have to slip out early,” Billy told her after another pause, watching her take another drag from the cigarette and extending his hand to take it back.

“That’s fine,” she said, matching his cool tone and just barely letting herself smile. Her fingers brushed against his as she passed the cigarette back then she crossed her arms over her chest, shivering as a cool burst of air came through the opened window. She looked out the window again, simply to have something to look at other than him.

The interaction felt so casual, as if he hadn’t just given her the best orgasms of her life. Neither of them seemed to be able to figure the other out, when they’d been so in synch five minutes ago. Billy didn’t seem like nearly as much of an asshole now, didn’t seem like he was ready to hightail out of her place the second she was asleep. He easily could’ve left already, but he was still here and she didn’t know why he would feel the need to lie about staying, only to skip out anyway, if that was his angle. She’d seen him play plenty of girls in Hawkins though, fucking them thoroughly, then moving onto the next girl at the next party, so Valerie wasn’t even sure how much to trust him in all of this.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked, taking a final puff of the cigarette before flicking the spent end out the window and closing it.

“You,” she responded, faster than she’d meant to. He actually smirked, making her roll her eyes and continuing. “You seem really different.”

Billy scoffed, tilting his head just slightly. “That a bad thing?” Valerie shook her head in response, making that barely there smile reappear on his face. “You got a preference on which side of the bed you take?”

“I sleep better on the right side,” she told him, stepping away from the wall.

SEPTEMBER 2, 1989

Waking up alone the next morning, Billy even being there at all felt like a dream. She didn’t know what time he’d left, but she’d woken up close to dawn to feel his arm around her and his leg tangled with hers.

Valerie stayed in bed for a while, replaying the night in her head with a sleepy, satisfied smile. Part of her wished she’d given him her number, but at least now she wouldn’t spend god knows how long waiting by the phone, hoping he’d call. She felt good, proud of herself even.

When she got up, she noticed the piece of paper on her nightstand.

“It was good to see you. Call me. 923-0427.”  

#billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove smut #billy hargrove #billy hargrove imagine #stranger things smut #stranger things fic #billy hargrove x ofc #billy hargrove x oc

[mythicamagic]

In the Company of Wolves: Inukog oneshot

Summary: Every place feels like a temporary home for a Hanyou. Kouga offers Inuyasha a welcome respite within his wolf pack. Inukog oneshot

Written for @gaykagome​, who has been a lovely, encouraging commenter and fandom friend ^^ thank you for your support bud.

Rated T

7,000 words (you can also read this on ao3 via the same username)

In the Company of Wolves

Leaping through sprawling trees, thick white hair flew out behind a red figure. Inuyasha landed on a sturdy branch, legs bent, muscles coiling and springing free as he leapt forth again. He smirked, a fang hooking over his bottom lip.

"Nice try, but you ain't got a hope in hell."

The deer fleeing for its life beneath the branches had skittered to the left, racing through dense undergrowth. Perhaps it hoped to lose him, or maybe it was running scared. Either way, this would be over quick.

Stepping from branch to branch, long fingers flexed, claws catching on sunlight. Pushing off from a tree trunk, Inuyasha sprang down with every intent of landing atop his prey.

He fell within range, closing in- only for his foot to collide with a mass of thick black fur.

Inuyasha's eyes flew wide, crashing into the beast and hitting the floor in a tumble of limbs. The deer merrily pranced away out of sight.

Snarling and lifting his head, Inuyasha cradled his throbbing skull. "Damn it, what the-!"

A large bear-sized wolf staggered to its feet, rumbling a noise of complaint. Two cobalt blue eyes glared at him.

Inuyasha stopped, "Kouga?" he rose a bushy brow.

There was no mistaking that smell. He'd never seen the mangy wolf's true form before though. In all honesty, it was kind of surreal. Hell, the guy even looked a bit more dignified.

Kouga tilted his head, standing. As he shook himself, yellow, static powder fell from his fur like gold dust, swirling into a whirlwind of youki. In a matter of moments, Kouga's humanoid form stepped out, hands on his hips.

"Why'd you get in my way?! You lost me my meal!"

White triangular ears flicked and pressed back against his skull. Fuck taking that. Inuyasha stood, hands balled into fists.

"Your meal?! I've been tracking that deer for at least an hour! You weren't even in the picture, I didn't smell ya chasing it once!"

Kouga tilted his chin up, flashing a cheeky grin. "Tch, that's what happens when you track from downwind, Dog Breath," he muttered, ignoring the pissed off Hanyou and looking around. "How come you're out here huntin' anyway? Isn't Kagome with you? She always carries some goodies to chew on. Tastier than venison too."

Inuyasha glanced away moodily, crossing his arms. "Shaddap. Like it's any of your business."

Kouga hummed, scratching his jaw. Odd. There was no bite in his tone. Sniffing a little, Kouga picked up the faint scent of sadness clinging to the robe of the fire rat.

Inuyasha's face heated. He quickly bared his teeth, "quit with that! She's just busy, alright? Besides, I can still hunt for myself. Ain't you a little far from your territory to be hunting out here?"

Kouga blinked, mildly concerned despite their history together. "Uhh… where do you think you are, Dog Breath?"

Frowning, Inuyasha glanced around. Clearly no answers were forthcoming from the forest, so leaping up, he climbed a tree, digging claws into rough bark to hoist himself up. Minding the tallest branches aside, Inuyasha gaped as he surfaced from the sea of greenery. Sprawling, picturesque mountains met his startled gaze.

How far did I chase that deer?

And why'd it have to lead him to Kouga's turf, of all places?

Dropping down to solid ground again, Inuyasha avoided eye contact. "I just got caught up in running, that's all," he answered the silent question hanging in the air.

Kouga tilted his head slightly, "… right."

A rumbling sound rang out between them. Inuyasha grit his teeth, ignoring the impatient gurgling of his stomach and swiftly turning. "Whatever. See ya," he started walking.

"Hey-" Kouga called, causing him to nearly trip in surprise and frown over one shoulder.

The wolf winced, looking awkward and weirded out to even be asking. "We got leftovers. If you want some," the offer was casual. "Don't want you keeling over on the way back, Kagome would kill me."

Inuyasha stared. Maybe he'd hit his head or something because for some reason, the offer sounded like a tempting one.

"Keh," he grunted, pivoting on one heel and trudging towards Kouga's territory instead. "Better be good," he complained with no energy behind it.

"Its free food! Be more grateful to your host," the wolf snarked, jogging to keep pace with him.

---

Mutters echoed throughout the cave, causing white ears to twitch and swivel atop his head. Inuyasha ignored the curious wolves, digging into tough boar meat. Uncooked. Miroku and Kagome would've called it ghastly. His lips twitched at the thought, soon wiped away. Something squeezed his chest instead.

"Hey, blabber-mouths! Keep it down!" Kouga's booming voice caught his dazed attention.

Ginta and Hakkaku quickly shut up, apologising. The rest of the wolf pack fell quiet, though their eyes blazed with questions.

Inuyasha rose a brow and glanced at the Wolf Prince. Did he think the gossiping bothered him or something? Weird guy. He should know a Hanyou would be used to it.

Kouga's tail flicked as he strode through regular wolves, minding some beasts aside. He then threw himself down beside Inuyasha on some soft furs, stealing a rib. Not having the energy or inclination to snap at him for it, Inuyasha merely flashed his teeth, grunting and continuing to eat.

"So what brings you to us, Inuyasha?" Hakkaku asked bluntly. Ginta gasped and fretted, clearly having wanted to ask more delicately.

Inuyasha drew into himself slightly, noticing a hush fall over the atmosphere within the damp cave.

"Was just in the neighbourhood is all. If ya wanna blame someone for dragging me here, look no further than your precious leader," he snorted, sidestepping the question.

Kouga elbowed him and chuckled in a deep, rich baritone. Triangular ears flicked upon hearing it. "Aw c'mon! You practically tripped over yourself getting here you were so eager," glimmering blue eyes swung to his pack, giving a shit-eating grin. "He's just too proud to say 'thank you for the meal' because he lost his prey and is still being a sore loser about it~"

Inuyasha blinked, noticing his verbal diversion and change in topic. Kouga was... helping him?

Sure enough, the wolf demon gazed at him, brows raised in challenge, trying to encourage a rebuttal.

Relief touched Inuyasha's face for a moment, before snorting loudly and thrusting his nose up in the air, turning away. "Me? You're the one who got in my way, Mangy Wolf."

"Dog Breath!"

"Flea Bag!"

The wolves glanced back and forth between them, noticing the lack of malice in their nicknames. Their scents were calm, giving them away. A touch of humour and enjoyment radiated from them as they bickered.

"Alright, prove it-" Kouga suddenly threw out. "Hunt with us tomorrow. Then we'll see who's better at it," he jabbed a thumb at his chest. "Obviously, it'll be us wolves! I've provided for my pack as leader for tons of years and I'm faster than you."

Rolling golden eyes, Inuyasha picked up a stone, hollowed out cup of water, taking a sip. "Keh, wouldn't be the first time people have underestimated me. Won't be the last," easing slightly closer to get in Kouga's face, he bared sharp fangs in a feral grin. "I'll beat you just like I've beaten everyone else who figured a half-breed couldn't measure up to a full demon."

Kouga stared, a funny look crossing his face- both palms shooting up to wave slightly. "Huh? Nah, you've got me wrong," he grunted, straightening his spine. "I was just trash talkin' you as competition, not because you're a Hanyou. I honestly wasn't thinkin' of that," his voice trailed into a musing tone.

A stab of surprise and disorientation swung through Inuyasha. There was no time to recover, however, as the demon kept talking. "Though now that you mention it, you're probably used to hunting alone, right? We'd call you a Lone Wolf if you were one of our kind. My pack will win through sheer teamwork."

Inuyasha huffed. So clearly it was more like 1 vs 30 rather than a fair fight. Coward.

Ah well. Looking down at the bones he'd picked clean, he gave a rough shrug of his shoulders. Not like he had anything else to do. He could stick around a little longer.

"You're on."

----

Many hours after the sun had gone down, taking its vibrant colourful sky with it, the moon had opened up her blanket of stars. Inuyasha sat at the mouth of the wolf pack's cave, hands thrust inside his sleeves. Tetsusaiga rested against one shoulder.

The wolves had finished singing their melodies to their mother, the moon, so they'd settled down.

Golden eyes slid towards their sleeping forms. They'd packed themselves tight against one another to retain some heat. Only a few had broken off in pairs to cuddle by themselves. Ginta and Hakkaku were well and truly wrapped around one another, swathed in furs.

They all looked comfortable. Trusting, together. A family unit.

Inuyasha stared. The most annoying part about it was that he could never pinpoint exactly what he was feeling, looking at groups like this. It made him uncomfortable, a reminder that they had something he didn't. Maybe he had, for a time, but his friends had all split off to live their own lives. Shippo was growing up. Miroku and Sango had their own family now.

Kagome…

He wasn't needed anymore. Their quest had been over for a long time. He should be over it by now.

Staring at the pack was like looking into a store window in Kagome's time. Unseen glass forever separated him from what they possessed.

Kouga lifted his head from where he lay, noting a chill in the air. Inuyasha met his gaze, quickly turning to face the other way and pretending to look at sprawling scenery. A snort sounded out in the cave before sharp, static youki fanned into the breeze.

Transformed, Kouga stepped around his pack and lay down towards the entrance, blocking out the night's chilly breeze with his thick fur and large form.

Inuyasha glanced behind him with mild surprise.

Kouga was maybe, actually, kind of…

... a good leader.

---

It started at midday.

The pack immediately flooded the forest, racing through it like droves of rats. Inuyasha shared a look with Kouga, before smirking and starting to leap from tree to tree.

Hunting with wolves nearby started to look next to impossible, considering how eagerly they dove and ran through the undergrowth, loud and clumsy. However, the second they caught wind of a herd, they split off into different, smaller groups. Inuyasha watched them from his vantage point above.

Scouts ran on ahead. Kouga kept towards the back of his pack, signalling orders with mere grunts, growls or gestures of his hand. Inuyasha followed the scouts, dropping down to run alongside them. They were slightly younger demons, teenage boys and girls, lithe and built for running. They stared at him but gave tentative grins.

Inuyasha blinked and offered a slight smirk, soon powering on ahead and leaving them behind.

Sniffing out a herd of deer that the wolves intended to close in on, Inuyasha kept to his vantage point in the trees. He rounded one side of a large clearing, heart thundering.

It had been a long time since he'd hunted seriously. It took him back to old times. Kagome had spoiled him with ramen, and complacency softened his body. But now rusty instincts were awakening, shaking the dust away. His fangs ached. Demon senses kicked in, blood pumping. He could hear and smell everything, down to the blades of grass, fusty scent of deer and pungent odour of wolves.

As predicted, Kouga's scouts halted at the opposite side of the treeline. Lower-ranking wolves and wolf demons alike burst through into the meadow then, causing the herd to take off running.

Right towards Inuyasha.

Dumbasses. Didn't they figure they were leading them right to him?

Grinning, Inuyasha's clawed nails elongated slightly. Waiting as a few deer ran beneath his position- he suddenly lept. Free-falling and spreading both arms wide, he tackled a stag around the neck, yanking it down with him using his weight.

Grabbing it by the antlers the second he recovered, Inuyasha gave a quick jerk, snapping its neck cleanly.

Panting and grinning, he raised triumphant eyes-

Only to see Kouga bent over a felled deer not too far away. His mouth was bloodied. His prey lay dead on one side. It was obvious from the number of adults mid-way through their meal that they'd taken it down much quicker than Inuyasha. They'd had the same idea, flushing out prey and leaping upon them from the opposite direction. Somehow they'd evaded even his detection.

Younger wolves looped around, waiting pensively for their turn.

Kouga licked his lips, maintaining eye contact. Dark hair hung loose from its typical ponytail, claws stained crimson. Inuyasha's heart skittered. His breath halted.

The demon drew bloodied lips back over his fangs when a lower wolf sniffed too close to his food- a loud, powerful snarl thrumming through the clearing.

An answering rumble built in Inuyasha's throat, unbidden. Blazing, twisting heat hooked low in his stomach, cock twitching.

Golden eyes snapped wide, realising just what the fuck he was reacting to.

Kouga's feral expression softened back to normal, shooting him a surprised grin and happily digging into his meal, none the wiser.

Shaken, Inuyasha grimly started tucking into his own, busying himself with eating. He then offered some scraps to some salivating teens, ignoring the amused demons watching. He wasn't above dining with pups. Especially if it meant never confronting what had just happened.

---

"So you and Kagome broke up, huh?"

Inuyasha jolted, wondering how obvious he'd been about it. Frowning at Kouga, who seemed content to laze within the den after the hunt, he gave a long exhale. "Have been for a few months now."

"Gotcha."

"We're still friends though, so don't even think about sniffing after her again."

"I ain't about to, Dog Breath," Kouga flashed him a wolfish grin, slowly sobering, "you wanna talk about it? Only it seems to be eatin' at ya."

Running a hand through his hair and giving a dusty sigh, Inuyasha stared blankly at the forest down below. With no other wolves around, he felt somewhat better about talking so plainly.

"Nothin' much to talk about, she's with someone else now. Seems happy."

Kouga made a noise of affirmation, showing he was listening while picking at his teeth with a pinky.

"I've got a crappy track record with relationships."

"You've got a crappy track record with women, yeah."

Inuyasha whipped his head back to stare at Kouga, wondering what he meant by that. If he meant what Inuyasha thought he meant.

Kouga remained in a reclining position, meeting his gaze easily. The late afternoon sun touched his skin, giving it a warm glow, hooded eyes seeming to darken. "You ever think about trying to be with someone else, rather than pining after the same soul over and over?"

Inuyasha's lips thinned, cheeks heating.

"I dunno. I was with Kikyo and then after being sealed to the tree- I woke up and met Kagome like no time had passed," he grunted. This would usually be the part where he clamped up. He didn't like talking about something so vulnerable. Self-preservation had taught him not to divulge too much, even to friends like Kagome. Kouga could easily mock him. However…

Looking over, no sinister motivation seemed to compel the wolf. He was genuinely interested. Inuyasha's insides screamed at him as he reluctantly continued. "It was like… it made sense to be with her, but I barely had a chance to process losing Kikyo. Things just kinda happened," he shook his head slightly. "Startin' fresh? Sounds like a fairy tale."

Kouga chuckled deeply, causing Inuyasha's ears to twitch again. His stomach did a nervous flip, but there was no cruelty in that rich tone. "Kinda set in your ways, huh? You're like a human in that respect."

"Keh, well what about you? Been with anyone recently?" Inuyasha asked flatly. He wasn't fishing or anything.

Kouga stretched languidly, yawning and exposing sharp-pointed canines. Blunt claws flexed wide, before curling into his palms again. "Nothing permanent. My last 'relationship' was with a guy for a couple of weeks. Just casual stuff. Heh, bet that's unthinkable to you, right?"

Inuyasha bristled, cheeks reddening. He tossed his head and huffed in answer.

"Oi, I don't mean anything by it. I think it's great you're such a loyal pup and have soul-consuming relationships instead of flings. Still, it sounds kind of exhausting to me," the wolf shrugged.

"I thought 'wolves mated for life', you sure tried that line on Kagome."

"We do," Kouga muttered, looking at him, "but only after we find someone special. We got an expression, us wolves. It basically translates to 'my heart and liver.' You gotta find someone that really fits your needs, who you pursue like they're a missing organ inside you. Till we find our chosen one, we're free to pursue who we want."

Inuyasha snorted, "and Kagome was that person to you?" he drawled sarcastically.

Kouga shrugged, not catching it. His earnest, blunt disposition was somewhat refreshing, if Inuyasha were being honest. "I figured so. But after three years of thinking about it, I kinda dove headfirst into loving her without really knowing her. I pursued her so hard that I forgot to think about why I was even running."

Unbidden, a smile came to the Hanyou's mouth, a fang hooking over his lip. He chuckled, eyes warming. Something heavy lifted from his shoulders. "We're both dumbasses," he said, golden eyes dancing. It felt kind of good to not be alone in that. To know they both should've done better.

Kouga blinked, gaze roving over his face. Slowly, he gave an answering, amiable smile. "You get a snaggle-tooth when you grin," he pointed out teasingly. "It's cute."

"Don't think you can flirt with me just because we bonded for a second, wolf," Inuyasha rolled his eyes and forcefully snuffed out his grin.

"No I'm gonna," Kouga chuckled, tail thumping beside him.

Something dissuaded the Hanyou from hotly shutting this down. His heart sat a little lighter in his chest, shoulders relaxed. If the dumbass wanted to keep saying stupid shit, who was he to stop him?

----

After that day, Inuyasha resolved to stay- at least until he caught a kill quicker than the wolves during a hunt.

Kouga became somewhat more shameless and flirty. It started out subtle. Well, subtle for Kouga.

One time, Inuyasha had leisurely taken a sip of his drink, setting it down and not noticing the wolf sit beside him. Kouga then proceeded to pick it up.

He crooked his wrist as he lifted the cup so that his lips landed squarely over the same place Inuyasha's had just occupied. He'd performed the manoeuvre so quickly that Inuyasha wasn't sure at first of what he'd seen. But as Kouga drank, he glanced at him, and Inuyasha knew then that the move had been intentional.

There were other small, maddening things. Kouga's tail brushing against his hip in passing. How he always brought over a slab of meat from a fresh kill to Inuyasha first during evening meals. How he offered over and over to take a 'friendly' dip in the waterfall together.

Inuyasha rolled his eyes at the attention. It never strayed too far into 'Miroku' territory, but it also wasn't something to take it seriously. The other wolves by now had caught on and sometimes teased their leader. Kouga laughed it off yet continued undaunted. When he next offered Inuyasha a pot, the Hanyou blinked.

"Are those stingers?" he grunted.

Sure enough, bee stings dotted bronze skin. The idiot hadn't removed the stingers from his hand.

The wolf chuckled, gesturing to the covered pot. "Ya mentioned that honey goes well with meat, so I got some for you."

Staring and feeling weird again, Inuyasha heaved a sigh and grabbed Kouga by the wrist, tugging him to kneel beside him. "Hold still, idiot. Do your feet run away with your brain or somethin'? You have to take these out," he bent over his hand, clawed fingers grasping a stinger.

"I was just eager to get it back to y- OW!"

Huffing, the Hanyou continued in his task, ignoring the whimpering demon. Despite his gruffness however, he leaned Kouga's arm over his knee, one hand gripping the back of the wolf's to keep it steady. He could feel Kouga's sharp inhale close to his cheek.

Finally removing the last of the stingers, Inuyasha's dog demon side betrayed him. As natural as breathing; he'd bent his head and swiped a careful tongue over a red sore to soothe the wound unthinkingly. Human embarrassment kicked in then, and he dropped Kouga's wrist like a rock, lurching back and standing.

"There! Tend to your own damn hand now!"

A ripple of laughter washed over the pack as Inuyasha stormed away, leaving Kouga to stare at the spot of saliva on his hand like it were a dewy jewel.

---

When next hunting, Inuyasha set off on his own under cloudy skies. He didn't keep track of the mass of wolves flooding the forest. Closing his eyes and removing the robe of the fire-rat to leave him in his white underlayer, he sank into a crouch. Burying Tetsusaiga somewhere safe at the base of a tree, he exhaled. The hanyou then began the process of shedding.

Shedding didn't entail fur. Rather, for him, it meant shaking off the layers of bullshit that weighed on his mind. He even stopped thinking about himself as a person. His mind turned blank, running through the forest like an animal.

He hadn't hunted via pure instinct in so long. He forgot how to speak with a human tongue, letting out grunts and growls. Saliva pooled in his mouth. Unknowingly, golden eyes tinged red. Faint markings cut across his cheeks. Fangs and claws elongated, youki pounding through his system with every thunder of his heartbeat.

A hare darted out from the bushes- and Inuyasha lunged.

He was barely aware of Kouga looping closer until he jogged out from the trees. "Hey, mutt- no luck for us today. Think that last hunt scared the herd too far awa-"

The creature hunched over spun around, a mangled kill hanging limp from his mouth. It hit the ground with a sickening thud as long white hair bristled, puffing up. A deep, rumbling snarl deafened Kouga's ears.

Inuyasha gazed at him, unblinking, panting with ragged breaths.

Kouga stopped and stared. Unbidden, the wilder, fiercer side of his nature reared its head. Teeth and claws gleamed, interest piqued.

However, something was wrong.

Inuyasha gasped and grunted, bending low and whimpering with pain. His body began fighting with itself, his demon blood coursing too strong for his hanyou form to withstand.

Kouga didn't really know anything about hanyou kind. However, he knew enough about the situation to realise a particular sword was missing from Inuyasha's hip. Turning tail and hurrying away, it was a simple matter of tracking Inuyasha's scent all the way to the base of a tree.

The fog cleared from crimson eyes, and Inuyasha blinked, panting. He flexed his shaking hand around a muddied Tetsusaiga, the partial transformation leaving him worn and ragged.

Kouga was squatting next to him. Concern probably wasn't the right word for it, but he gazed at him seriously for a moment before standing.

"Don't do stupid stuff just to win bets, Mutt Face."

Coughing, Inuyasha slowly adjusted back into his old senses, gripping his sword so tight his knuckles bled white. "Yeah... fine, whatever... Mangey Wolf."

----

The 'incident' as Kouga called it was not an isolated one in terms of throwing him for a damn loop. After bathing at the waterfall in a nice, refreshing midday dip, Kouga noticed an absence immediately.

"Where's Inuyasha?"

Ginta looked up from polishing some armour.

"I'm not sure. He started getting fidgety and sniffed around- then he looked at the sky and took off without a word to anyone. I think he looked a bit pale."

Kouga frowned. In a few hours, it would get dark. Tracking him would be more difficult.

Wasting no time, Kouga lept from their den, sailing down the side of the rocky mountain face. His black hair and wolf tail flew up to flutter in the breeze. "Be back later!" he called, ignoring Ginta's confusion.

Bursting into a mini tornado of power, Kouga started running, lifting his nose to scent the air. Locating Inuyasha's unique smell, he sprinted into the gloom of the trees. It seemed the Hanyou hadn't wanted to be found. His scent zig-zagged everywhere, even travelling upriver, perhaps intending to lose anyone tracking him.

Kouga smirked. As if that would work on a full demon.

By the time dusk settled in, however, Kouga felt antsy. Still no sign of the mutt, and it was getting dark. Even his scent had become strange and diluted.

Stopping beneath the canopy of trees and frowning, Kouga shifted his attention to the waning light above. The moon was out, but faint.

Kouga's eyes widened slightly. A new moon.

Hearing a sigh and the crunch of weight shifting on dried leaves, Kouga turned, nose twitching.

A willow tree sat relatively still and serene, located near some stretch of water. Weeping, draping branches were parted by Kouga's rough palms. He peered into the shadows behind the sweeping curtain, finding a familiar face.

Inuyasha stood, eyes incredibly dark. Midnight locks of hair split down broad shoulders. He stood weary and watchful, gripping a useless Tetsusaiga.

"What are you doing here?" Inuyasha muttered.

Kouga gave a look, as though it should be obvious, stepping into his private space beneath the darkening tree. "I came here to find ya, obviously."

Dark eyes widened slightly at his blunt honesty. Sighing anew, Inuyasha rubbed at his forehead. "Dumbass. I'm guessing you forgot what night I transform despite seeing it yourself before?"

"Kinda," the wolf demon shrugged, resting both hands on his hips and walking around the tree, glancing at the fresh kill of a rabbit. "Glad ya fed yourself at least. C'mon, let's go back before we lose any more light. Unless of course you wanna stumble around in the dark, forcing me to hold your hand?" he teased.

Inuyasha gazed back soberly, causing the mirth to leave Kouga's eyes. Both fell quiet.

As a human, Inuyasha lost many things. Animal ears, a keen sense of smell, golden irises that gleamed like a treasure trove. He also lost a certain harshness. The thick wall of defence usually built up around his heart had crumbled.

Like this, Inuyasha looked much softer. In more ways than one.

"I don't want to go back looking like this," Inuyasha muttered. "And neither do you."

"What're you yappin' about?"

Bushy brows pulled down, and he backed up slightly. "Listen, you've had your fun little charity experience including a Hanyou in your shit, but I know how full demon society works. I'm not stupid. You're all fine with me hanging around as some little project to measure yourselves against, but when it comes down to it, you don't want to confront this part."

Kouga's heavy brows pulled down, a sneer marring his lips. "Ah, I get it. Ya think my pack will mock you because it's your human night? You're a fucking idiot," he sighed. "I was in love with Kagome. Ya think anyone's gonna say shit? Admit it, you just feel vulnerable because you got baby skin and no fangs."

Inuyasha's expression flickered; an open book. His hands balled into fists, stubbornness setting his mouth into a thin, grim line.

Kouga gave an exaggerated sigh, grabbing his arm, "quit bein' stubborn-"

Yanking himself free, Inuyasha gave a poor imitation of a snarl, exposing blunt teeth. "Get lost!"

Growling, Kouga blurred in the air- appearing behind him and grabbing the failing human around the waist- lifting so that his kicking feet left the ground. "We're going back, it's cold out! Your baby skinned, barely furred ass will catch a cold, and I ain't dealing with that!" he started walking.

With a yowl of outrage, Inuyasha swung his elbow back into Kouga's face. With a grunt, he was released, only for the two to snarl and grapple once again. Heels dug into mud- foreheads smacked, palms clasped and muscles strained on Inuyasha's end to match the power of a demon, failing. Kouga licked at his bleeding nose, before giving a hard shove. Landing on forest ground and losing themselves in senseless scrapping, sharp teeth closed around a curved ear.

Inuyasha yelped, dark eyes flying wide. Did he just?-

He had! Kouga had reprimanded him like a damn pack member.

Sensation burst within his chest, boiling over, consuming. He didn't know how to react to it. Therefore, Inuyasha didn't stop to think about his actions. When drowning in feeling, his mind turned blank, and he acted on impulse.

Curling coarse fingers in dark hair and latching tight- he yanked Kouga down by the back of the neck- mouths colliding.

Teeth knocked. Lips strained against hard pressure. Inuyasha's grip tugged Kouga's hair tight against his scalp. It was painful. It was uncomfortable. It was brilliant.

The wolf demon reeled, inhaling hard through his nostrils. His senses flooded with Inuyasha's human scent.

There was a reason Kagome's slap had cemented her into Kouga's head as a potential mate. He wasn't used to being opposed. Everyone listened to him, and he talked freely. But a push back, a stubborn, fierce 'no!' made his world tilt on its axis. It was exactly what he needed. Someone to raise their voice and get his attention. An opposing view to clash with his own. That was what leaders primarily looked for in partners, not meek obedient types.

And Kouga couldn't say he personally disliked it either.

Releasing him, Inuyasha panted. His face suddenly paled, realisation dawning. "Shit," he muttered, drawing back and falling silent.

Kouga opened his mouth, then closed it. There were no words he could scramble together in his currently fried brain. What he did know- was that the weather still felt chilly, and Inuyasha needed a place to sleep. He kind of felt the desire to prod for more, but judging by Inuyasha's closed off, guarded look, that wouldn't be happening anytime soon.

They picked themselves up, standing. Inuyasha wiped some mud from his ashen cheek.

"You won't come back to the pack tonight, right?" Kouga asked.

Mild relief seemed to touch his features as he nodded glumly.

"Gotcha, well, don't kick up a fuss. I'll take ya somewhere else for the night," the wolf demon stepped away, youki swirling around his form, tumbling faster into a fierce gust. Inuyasha watched as a 10ft tall dark-furred wolf eventually lept out of the whirlwind. Kouga then knelt down as best he could, jerking his head to indicate Inuyasha climb on.

"You've got to be kiddin' me?" he grumbled. It didn't take much prompting for him to give in, burned out from nerves and high tension. The new moon always messed everything up.

Grasping onto thick, feathery fur, Inuyasha climbed onto his back, sitting behind Kouga's shoulder blades. The wolf demon flashed him a toothy smile, pushing off starting to run.

Gaping and swaying from the momentum, Inuyasha ducked down and gripped his hackles. Kouga talked a lot of shit, but he got one thing right; he was fucking fast.

Muscles coiled and shifted, prowling through dense undergrowth with quick footfalls. Kouga panted softly, paws thundering over chilled forest floor, scattering leaves.

Inuyasha ducked to avoid a few low-hanging branches, feeling the wolf's sturdiness and warm form beneath him. Despite being in human form with his dulled, dim senses, the silence of the forest combined with Kouga's rhythmic noises made him feel strangely wild yet lulled. He was a creature again, not a man nor demon. It comforted him.

Kouga's breath fanned out in visible puffs of curling smoke by the time they reached an abandoned cave beneath a slightly upturned tree- it's hanging, frozen roots slightly obscuring the entrance. Snowdrops littered the ground- crunching under Inuyasha's feet as he dismounted and quietly entered.

More snowdrops awaited him inside the mouth of the cave, and he sank down exhaustedly into the flowers, cheek cushioned by soft petals.

Kouga huffed, staring down at Inuyasha's near motionless body. Shifting, he settled beside him, acting as a shield against the elements.

Inuyasha's feet were turning blue. Knowing he'd probably be insecure about holding onto him in inhuman form, the wolf shifted closer, bumping against his side.

Making a tired noise, a dark brown eye cracked open. With a sigh- Inuyasha's coarse hands met Kouga's fur, settling closer into the mass of warmth. "This means nothing," came his muffled voice.

Resting his head upon enormous paws, Kouga ignored this, tail thumping slightly behind him.

"Thanks for... coming to get me."

At that, Kouga stiffened with surprise, lifting his head to look at him.

Inuyasha's breaths evened out, and in the quiet hush that followed, it was difficult not to notice how his dark hair seemed to mesh and meld so naturally into the wolf demon's own black fur.

In the morning it would be harder still not to stare at sprawling wisps of long white hair blending into the snowdrops.

Kouga's blue eyes blinked, nose twitching. It was then he realised he was probably in danger of something much larger than either of them could've expected.

----

Predictably, Inuyasha acted as though nothing had happened.

He stuck around the wolves for a few days longer, before finally approaching Kouga, arms thrust inside trailing sleeves.

"So… gonna be headin' out soon."

Kouga continued sharpening his knife. He then stood, rolling one shoulder and keeping his tone casual.

"For good?"

"Yeah," Inuyasha muttered, face guarded. "No point in sticking around here any longer than I need to. Keh, I ain't in the habit of getting in people's way."

Kouga heaved a sigh, putting the knife away and folding his arms, walking from the cave and out into bright sunlight. Rounding one side of the mountain and following a rocky trail, his tail swished with agitation. "You ain't in the way, Dog Breath. I made that pretty clear. You wanna talk about the kiss or not?"

Inuyasha made a noise behind him. He then scrambled for something to say, "we don't gotta talk about it! Weird shit happens when I turn human! Stuff I wouldn't usually do-"

Kouga cut him off with a dramatically loud groan, turning on his heel to face him. Inuyasha jumped, feet skidding to bring him to a stop- rocking forward with momentum and ending up nose to nose with the wolf.

Cobalt blue eyes remained flat, "dunno how Kagome put up with your damn wishy-washy ass. I ain't about to listen to that crap when my nose can sniff out lies unlike her. Since you're so bad at this, I guess I'll be the mature one; and that's how ya know you're being an idiot, stupid mutt."

Inuyasha blinked, opening his mouth with an irate expression.

"I want ya to stay," Kouga said bluntly. "The kiss didn't bother me. In fact, I kinda liked it and I'm open to doing more of that stuff, weird as it sounds saying it out loud. I was into it," he shrugged broad shoulders. "But if you're too busy getting yourself worked up about feeling like an outsider, that's up to you. As pack leader, I'm telling you you've got a place here, dumbass. You can quit being a lone wolf if you want to. My group won't mind."

Inuyasha stared at him, completely stunned. He put a little distance between them, ears pressing flat.

His expression rapidly changed with a multitude of conflicting thoughts. He opened and closed his mouth, eyes flickering to the scenery, to the rocks, to their bare feet. Heavy brows drew down.

Kouga sighed and scratched his pointed ear, figuring he'd be stubborn about it. Not like he could force him to stay. But still… an odd sense of disappointment weighed in his chest. He'd had fun. He'd had a lot of fun with him around.

"I don't do casual," came Inuyasha's reluctant reply.

Kouga's brows rose. Oh. That's what he'd been having reservations about?

"Fuck- I'm bad at this," the hanyou gazed stubbornly at the horizon, cheeks heating. Hands curled into fists at his side.

Blinking, Kouga let out a rasping chuckle, shoulders shaking. It immediately won him Inuyasha's attention. "You really are," he agreed, tone turning into a teasing one. "I didn't know you were that into me."

Growling and bristling, Inuyasha seemed to assume he was laughing at him, so Kouga held up a hand. He then used it to grab hold of the robe of the fire rat, bridging the distance between them.

Inuyasha's breath rushed out of his nose, exhaling sharply. He froze, becoming completely still. Kouga's mouth remained against his in a firm kiss, before shifting into a yielding one, eventually drawing away.

Kouga grinned, "if you wanna get stuck with me, then I'm totally capable of being serious too."

Inuyasha slowly relaxed. He snorted, lips quirking as golden eyes warmed. "Dumbass," he mumbled, tugging him back in again. This time Kouga's ensuing chuckle came out muffled against his lips.

"Heh, you really do have dog breath."

"Do I gotta keep shutting you up?"

Kouga lifted a shoulder, flashing him a wolfish grin, tail thwacking his thigh. "If that's the method you're going with to do it, I guess so."

Inuyasha's gaze flattened, feeling large hands slide around him to rest on his shoulder blades. Oddly comforting. The warmth of a wolf was a strange, foreign thing, but one he could get used to. Kouga had a strong scent. He could feel it saturating his clothes. The robe of the fire-rat would reek for weeks.

And that was okay too.

Their noses bumped, and they huffed with amusement, teeth nipping. They'd be clumsy for a while, but sticking around suddenly didn't sound so heavy. Inuyasha resolved to stay for a few more weeks.

And then maybe he'd linger for a little while after that too.

---

The wolves always howled in their true forms, conveying their love, heartbreak, hunger, stories and other things into their haunting songs. They were beautiful, powerful, twisting, waxing poetic about nothing and everything.

Inuyasha stepped out onto the summit of their mountain that they gathered upon. When he threw back his head and howled suddenly, it startled the others out of their songs.

His voice strained, held back by untrained vocal cords. It wasn't wild enough and held no finesse, too tempered by humanity. Imperfect.

Kouga beamed upon hearing it. He then transformed, black silky fur receding.

Throwing his head back, he let out a loud howl, hair dancing in the breeze. Inuyasha finished and looked at him breathlessly, heart drumming loudly. His throat hurt, cheeks stinging from the cold bite in the air. It felt fucking fantastic.

The rest of the wolf pack demons followed suit, transforming into their mockery of human appearances. Their inhuman forms joined in, baying with hoarse, powerful voices.

If someone had happened upon the pack that night, they'd have found the wolves packed in close, huddling for warmth in their cave. And at the very centre of the pack would be one hanyou, nestled amongst their slumbering, monstrous forms, nose buried into windswept fur, heart in sync with theirs.

---

It would be a few weeks later when Inuyasha would return to Kaede's village. It had been two months since he'd left.

Kouga jogged around him on the trail, sniffing the air and chattering animatedly. He loved travelling. Inuyasha grunted a few replies but was content to listen to him. It kept his mind off inevitably seeing a certain someone again.

That person seemed to spot them almost immediately as they approached the village.

Kagome came rushing over, causing Kouga to grin and call a greeting- his words going completely ignored as the miko drew back her hand.

Inuyasha blinked at the ensuing slap. His cheek stung like hell.

Salt peppered the air then, causing guilt to sink heavy into his gut.

"H-how dare you!" Kagome's watery eyes blazed. "You disappear for months- without a word to anyone?!- and then just swan back here like nothing happened? I searched for you! Do you have any idea how WORRIED I was? You jerk! You're such an absolute JERK!"

Inuyasha slowly stepped closer and brought her into a hug just as she burst into tears.

Kagome thumped her fists weakly against his chest, shuddering and prattling nonsense.

"I just… needed to get away," Inuyasha muttered, ears pressed back tight to his skull. "Didn't feel right being here."

Letting out a rush of hot air, Kagome drew back slightly to look at him. "N-nothing had to change. I told you that," she hiccuped. "Just because I'm in a relationship with someone else- it doesn't affect us. We're still friends. Your place is here. Miroku, Sango and Shippo were worried too."

"They were?"

They'd seemed so busy with their own lives before. Too busy to hang out with him- or maybe he'd been alone in thinking that? Had he put distance between them unknowingly because they'd all changed but he'd stayed the same?

"Idiot," Kagome and Kouga sighed together.

Noticing their wolf companion, Kagome wiped her tears and turned to Kouga. She gave him a much gentler reception, hugging him tight with gratitude.

"So he was with you the whole time? Thank you for looking out for him, Kouga."

"Heh, no worries. It's actually been pretty fun."

Kagome pulled back and rose a brow, glancing between them. "Really? You two haven't been fighting?"

"Sometimes," Inuyasha scratched his nose, combing some claws through his hair. "That hasn't been so bad either, though."

Completely lost, Kagome tilted her head. She then located a hickey on Inuyasha's neck, the skin bruised and red. She reddened herself, meeting Inuyasha's awkward gaze.

"Oh," she put the pieces together slowly. "So… are you just visiting?" she asked quietly.

Inuyasha nodded slowly. "Yeah. I got…" he took a breath, words faltering. He then continued, voice full of conviction. "I got a place to return to now. The wolves ain't a bad bunch to stay with now that my nose has adjusted to their damn smell."

"Hey-" Kouga scoffed.

"I'll keep coming back here though," he continued. "I'm just-"

"It's okay," Kagome soothed. "That makes me really happy to hear. Sometimes new things are good. Different, but good."

It was the same thing she'd said when trying to talk to him about her new relationship. Inuyasha nodded slightly, rendered mute by the heaviness of her words. Change was inevitable. It had freaked him out enough to run from the only real family he'd ever known.

Sadness flitted through her gaze before acceptance gentled matured features. Ageing had changed her too. That was partly why they'd broken up as quickly as they had. They were too different now than how they'd been at 15, swept up in a whirlwind teen romance. There was a sadness in never being able to return to their glory days, but it wasn't necessarily a bad thing to move on.

Kagome scrubbed at her eyes and smiled for him. She always smiled when he needed it most. Grabbing both of their coarse hands, she tugged. "C'mon, everyone will be wanting to catch up. There's also some ramen I saved with your name on it."

Inuyasha's slack fingers twitched in her hold. He then adjusted them, squeezing her hand. Something brazen, fragile and guarded in his heart soothed and healed. His shoulders relaxed. Finally, he felt a sense of peace sweep over him that he hadn't experienced for some time; ever since they'd been flung out of orbit from their romance and back into friendship.

Meeting Kouga's amiable, enthusiastic gaze, Inuyasha bit back a snort. Golden eyes danced, lips twitching- before tilting up. A fang hooked over his bottom lip, snaggle-tooth peering out.

---

End

#Inukog #inuyasha #inukoga #kouga #koga inuyasha

[shootybangbang]

[Talking Bird] Ch 16: In which the plot finally makes an appearance

[Ao3 Link]

[Content Warning]: suicidal ideation, mild gore

[Note]: this fic has gone through some serious revisions — mostly expanded scenes/dialogue. The chapters most heavily affected are 1, 2, 3, and 7, but I’ve added a changelog to the end notes of each previous chapter detailing the edits that have been made. To save you some time though, here are the three main things to note:

The reader character does not have the bonds

The reader character refers to Arthur by his last name due to unfamiliarity

The horniness from last chapter has been moved to a future chapter. sorry!

This chapter is also pretty long in comparison to the others. From here on out, the chapters will probably be 2000+ words.

———

You look out into the plains, at the last pale band of light disappearing beneath a horizon of prairie grass and dark, looming buttes. The shadows of the scant trees stretch long and thin, their branches like a thousand spindly fingers grasping, searching. The landscape is dimmed to a tableau of reds and blacks, anything not illuminated by the fire slowly sinking into the featureless canvas of night. All of it blurred and indistinct behind a curtain of rain.

It’s a prettier sight by far than any you’ve had in St Denis. Or San Francisco. Or anywhere else you’ve lived, really.

And yet it hangs like featureless gauze behind the endless reel playing out over and over behind your eyes, spinning round like the printed images on a zoetrope.

The O’Driscoll’s hands wet with blood and mud. His eyes wide and uncomprehending. Trying to put himself back together the way one might a broken toy, sieving his viscera between his fingers and scooping it into the cavity of his chest. That initial, stunned bemusement giving way at last to the dawning horror of his own end.

And accompanying it, the numb realization that what bothered you more was the bare abstraction of the act. The burden of this sin weighing heavy with all the others, its addition tipping some moral scale, and —

“Hey.”

Morgan’s voice, jarringly brusque against the murmurings of your own private judge and jury, is almost mercifully irritating.

“What do you want?” you snap.

“Get up,” he says. “Start strippin’ the wet bark off the firewood.”

“For chrissakes, at least give me a second to catch my breath.”

“Why, so you can keep sittin’ there feeling sorry for yourself?” He leans one hand against the stone wall of the outcrop and drags himself back to his feet. The barest shadow of a grimace flits across his face as he straightens his back. “C’mon. Sooner we get set up proper, the sooner we can get back to ignorin’ each other. Then you can sulk all night in peace.”

The cottonwood branches are covered in cracked, ash brown bark that scrapes rough against your palms and fingers, rasping the skin raw as you hold the wood firm for carving. One of the downsides of living easy for so many years, you suppose — all the protective calluses atrophy to nothing, and what remains becomes susceptible to old and familiar hurts. But habits run deeper than skin, and what the mind forgets the body keeps.

As you work your way through the firewood, Boadicea nickers and paws impatiently at the dirt.

“I’m sorry girl,” you hear Morgan say. “Been a hard day for us both.”

You snort contemptuously. Out of the corner of your eye, you watch as he unhooks the horse’s bridle and lifts away the saddle, then starts grooming her with a battered looking brush, brushing with quick, circular motions, going against the grain and fluffing up her coat to dry out her fur with a solicitous measure of care that seems wholly unfitting of a man of his temperament and occupation.

Boadicea makes a low, rumbly noise in the back of her throat that sounds almost like a purr. She dips her head down and chomps at the yellowed prairie grass lining the floor of the outcrop, tearing up mouthfuls with a sedate contentedness that makes you sorely wish you could share in her circumstances.

A sense of fatigue more complete than any you’ve ever felt before settles over you like heavy snow. For the moment, you feel blank and washed out, stripped bare of all pretense.

“Morgan,” you admit. “I don’t have the bonds.”

“Yeah,” he replies. “I know.” He unpacks his canvas roll and yanks free from it the saddle blanket of coarse, undyed wool, then unfurls it over the horse’s back, pulling it over her flank and adjusting the fit. “Figured as much before we left Strawberry.”

“Oh.” At this point, you haven’t even the energy to be surprised. “Huh.”

For a long while, the only sound is that of the knife scraping against bark and the intensifying patter of rain, fat droplets coming down hard and fast.

In a small voice, you ask him, “You’re not really gonna sell me to a brothel, are you?”

He scoffs. “What makes y’think that ?”

“Thought you seemed too… too decent to do something like that.”

“Me? Decent?” Morgan lets out a low, disbelieving whistle. “Thought you’d know better by now.”

He turns partway to face you. In the dim light of the fire only half of him is lit bright enough to see, the rest tapering sharp into dark silhouette. For the lapse of a heartbeat it’s as if all the irreverence and bravado has been ripped away like a sheet of paper, and underneath a viciousness, a suppressed violence that you’ve been too blind to see.

This whole time you’ve been treating him like a dog, when the teeth at your throat are those of a wolf.

Your mouth goes dry and your fingers tighten around the knife in your hand. You stare up at him like a deer caught in his sights — blind panic rising up in your chest and throat like cold water. You swallow hard and try to force it down so you can maintain at least a semblance of control.

“Mr. Morgan…?”

“You ain’t been half as scared of me as you should be,” he says. “holed up with a wanted man, nobody around for miles. Some of the men I’ve run with, they…”

He lets the sentence trail off, the implications clear enough without him saying so. Then he shakes his head, and there is a weariness in him, a kind of cynical exhaustion that ages him far beyond his years. “Girl,” he says. “You keep at this line of work, I guarantee you’ll be dead in a year.”

Morgan slicks his fingers through his wet hair to keep rainwater from dripping into his eyes, and you can see that the hangdog look is back on his face, all his suggested cruelty vanished like smoke. He shifts his attention back to the saddlebags. “No, I ain’t decent,” he continues. He pulls out a tin cup and the individual components of what looks to be a collapsible grill. “But I ain’t so far gone that I’d hurt a woman. Or sell one.”

“But you’d ransom one.”

“Figured it out, did you?” he says. “Thought you might.”

He sits back beside the fire and pieces the grill together, twists its winch tight and positions it over the fire. Then he fills the tin cup with water from the canteen and sets it atop to heat.

“If you don’t hurt women,” you say slowly, your right hand still holding the knife tight as a vise. “Then what’re you going to do to me when you find out I’m not worth ransoming?”

“Doubt that’s gonna be a problem.”

“Why not?”

“Had a brand new Mauser on ya. You know how much those things cost?”

Mentally, you kick yourself. Looks like begging the gunsmith to lend you the best pistol he had in stock has come back to bite you in the ass.

“The gun’s not mine,” you say quickly. “It’s a loan.”

“Those bloomers in your room were real silk. You gonna tell me those were a loan too?”

“You — my bloomers?! Why were you going through my bloomers, you fucking degen—”

Of all the things you’ve accused him of today, somehow this is the one that actually rankles him. “You think I like rummaging through women’s underwear? Had to go through ‘em to get to your billfold.”

You flush hard enough that even the tips of your ears feel hot. “I… I saved up for those bloomers. Not that I’d expect you to understand the importance of—

“That shirt’s custom tailored, ain’t it? Those boots, too. And that’s good leather right there. Far too good for your typical drug mule. Either you come from money, or you got rich friends.”

There’s not much you can rebut here. All you can manage is a lame, “You don’t even know who I am .”

“Got a friend not too far from here who’s plenty familiar with St Denis. He’ll know.” Morgan holds his hand out towards you. “Gimme that knife a second.”

The knife is the only scrap of protection you’ve managed to grab hold of through this entire ordeal. You squeeze its handle tight.

He lets out a short, impatient sigh. “If I wanted to hurt you, I’d have done it by now. So c’mere and hand it over.”

You’ve known men who take a certain vicious pleasure in abusing women. Merchants with cringing wives. Clients with kind faces who’d leave working girls battered and bruised. There’s usually a certain mien about them that sets you on edge and that Morgan, brusque as he is, thoroughly lacks.

You brush the wood shavings off your lap and approach him. When you reach his place beside the fire, he tilts his head upwards to meet your eyes, the look on his face calm and expectant. A self-assured confidence that you’ve seen many times before, in the guises of many different men. It sends a familiar shiver of resentment down your spine.

You could cut out his eye right now. You could sink the blade into the thick cord of his neck. And he’d shoot you dead just for trying it — oh, you’ve no doubt of that — but it’d be quick and it’d be painless, and here comes that pathetic urge again, that little whisper coaxing you deeper, deeper towards the welcoming dark —

But equally pathetic is the nagging insistence that always stays your hand, that strident, desperate plea born from bodily instinct. The shared fear of all life from the inevitable. Cowardice — that’s what it is. A cowardice you’ve never been able to shake, a resentful, stubborn tether that you’ve bitten and clawed at over the years, but that still stays looped firm around your neck.

( And what about Mei? What about her son? )

You hand him the knife, and he receives it without incident.

The water in the tin cup is boiling. Morgan slips the point of the knife through the cup’s metal handle, and delicately removes it from the grate to cool. As you stand there, wet and cold and resentful, but not sure what else to do, he saws the top off a can of beans and sets it on the grill to warm, then pulls something out of his satchel and tosses it in your direction.

Somehow, you manage to not fumble the catch. It’s a can of peaches.

“Don’t eat ‘em yet,” he says. “I wanna take a look at your arm first. Roll up your sleeve for me.”

You grimace. One of the pros of tailored shirts is having sleeves that actually fit. “It doesn’t roll up that far.”

“Then I’ll cut it off for you,” he says, putting the knife to the shoulder seam.

“Like hell you will. This is my last decent shirt.”

Morgan shrugs. “No way around it, unless you wanna take it off.”

A shirt nice enough to present a veneer of respectability costs at least $4. Your usual tailor’s fee runs about $2, plus tip. That’s $6 total: the equivalent of two week’s worth of food for Mei and her son. Good food — white rice and cabbage, maybe even a bit of pork belly. Not the bits of offal scrounged from the butcher and wilted produce she’d resort to otherwise.

You hold out your hand and say, “Give me something to cover myself with.”

Your time spent reading Ovid in college would have probably been better served learning to dress like him, you think to yourself as you try and try again to wrap Morgan’s blanket around yourself like a toga.

“I said I’d give you a minute to yourself,” he says. “It’s been more than three now. I’m gonna turn around.”

“Just ten more seconds,” you respond, hastily tucking the corner of the blanket into the horizontal swathe pulled taut across your torso.

The sheer amount of irritation he manages to convey in the sigh he lets out is really quite impressive. In it, you can somehow hear him rolling his eyes.

When you finally let him know you’re ready, he takes one look at you and has to stifle a laugh. “You could’ve just wrapped it around your chest. Woulda been more practical.”

“Oh, excuse me for wanting to preserve what’s left of my dignity,” you snap, keeping one arm pressed against your chest to keep the whole improvised garment from falling apart.

“Alright Caesar, c’mere. Let me see.”

The cut looks like an angry red furrow ploughed through the field of your skin. Its edges are ragged and torn, separated like poorly cut cloth. In between, the wound itself gleams red and raw, with particles and fibers mixed in with blood and indeterminate tissue.

Earlier, when you’d gingerly untied the makeshift bandage and taken off your shirt, you’d taken a silent moment to survey the damage, wondering with horrified fascination if it was perhaps your own muscle you were glimpsing, that particular facet of your body surfacing through its dermal barrier for the first time.

“I’m gonna hold your arm,” Morgan says. “That ok with you?”

You nod, a little dumbfounded that he of all people would have the foresight to ask for permission.

He lifts your arm towards the firelight so he can better examine the wound, and in doing so handles you with more care than you can remember any lover ever giving you. You tell yourself that it’s a rebuke of your own terrible taste than an indication of any extraordinary kindness on his part, then forcibly dredge up the memory of his gun at your back for good measure.

“You’re gonna have a hell of a scar after this,” he says, running his thumb along the unbroken skin below the cut. “No inflammation, which is good. I’ll patch you up the best I can, but we’re still gonna want to check on it every couple hours to make sure it doesn’t get infected.”

He gets up to rummage through his saddlebags and returns holding a roll of gauze and a bottle of clear liquid. “You’ll be wanting this,” he says, handing over the latter. “This’ll hurt.”

You take a swig and nearly choke on it. “What the hell is this?”

“Grain alcohol.”

Grimacing, you bring it to your lips again and take in two more mouthfuls of the stuff before handing it back, gulping it down quick to get the burn of it down your throat and off of your tongue.

Morgan hovers his hand over the tin cup to test its temperature. “This needs to cool down first. Gives you some time for that liquor to set in too.”

“I think it’s going to my head already,” you admit.

Heat is spreading from the warm pit of your stomach to your neck and face, branching through your veins as sure as blood. The thud of your heart, previously an imperceptible thing, now asserts itself like a metronome.

He glances over at you and whistles low. “Not much of a drinker, are you?”

“Not usually.” You press your palm against your cheek. “Am I turning red?”

“Gettin’ there.”

It’s strange, settling into this oddly comfortable limbo between cordiality and aggression. Your sustained caution of him is beginning to wane so steadily that you have to consciously remind yourself the only reason he hasn’t shot you dead or at least seriously injured you is due to the fact that you’re worth more intact than otherwise.

“So,” Morgan says. “What’s someone with silk bloomers doin’ all the way out here runnin’ opium to Strawberry?”

“It’s a very long and stupid story.”

“Then give me the short version.”

You stare at the ground as though it’ll offer you some way to condense the sordid affair of your life into a couple easy sentences. He’d asked the question with what sounded like genuine curiosity instead of interrogation, and for once you feel inclined to blurt out the whole of it, like a girl in confession.

You want to tell him about how small the missionaries had seemed when you’d waved at them through the train’s grime-smudged window, not knowing it’d be the last time. The tweed jacket tossed carelessly onto the floor, and the cool, smooth sheen of mahogany against your skin. Feng fishing you out from the dark water lapping at the docks. The money, the opium, the blood.

The sight of the Heartlands for the first time, its blue horizon impossibly vast.

“I owe someone a lot of money,” you say finally, fiddling with a piece of grass between your fingers, tearing into halves and halves and halves. “He said it was either this or the brothel.”

“And you chose this. Runnin’ dope to those poor bastards working the railroads.”

It’s not the first time you’ve heard this particular tone of voice. The kind that implies its speaker’s higher moral ground as it categorically condemns you. But coming from him makes its sting especially hard.

“I don’t force them to buy it,” you say hotly. “It’s not just me that’s at fault here.”

“You ever seen a dope addict? They ain’t got a goddamn choice —”

“Well, d’you know what the average lifespan of a Chinatown whore is?” You don’t bother waiting for a response before plummeting to the answer. “Two years. After that she’s either dead from syphilis or suicide. At least with the opium I’ll die out here in the open and not in some squalid closet of a room that smells like piss and men.”

The liquor is starting to hit hard , and a part of you is fiercely grateful for it. It’s been a long time since you’ve been given an excuse to scream out the inequities of your life to someone, and a man who’s holding you for ransom seems as good a target for your vitriol as any.

“You think that just ‘cause it’d be better for the greater good or some shit, they should get to fuck me over? Is that what you think?”

Morgan seems a little taken aback. “I didn’t say th—”

“I don’t give a shit about the addicts. I don’t give a shit who’s life I’m ruining, as long as it isn’t mine. I don’t… I don’t care about anyone else because I’m a terrible excuse for a human being. That’s what you want to hear me say, right?” At this point, you realize that you’ve transitioned into a hysterical rant, that you don’t properly mean half the things you’re saying, but saying it out loud feels good nonetheless, like sucking venom from a festering wound. “But people like you don’t get to tell me so. Because at least I don’t hold people at fucking gunpoint . I don’t rob banks or kidnap women or beat debtors. I’m not a fucking murderer like you—”

The last statement barely clears the air before the image of the dead O’Driscoll, sprawled across the ground with his belly torn open, flashes through your head. You immediately clap your hand over your mouth, as if doing so will let you swallow back your words.

“No,” Morgan says, “You ain’t a murderer. And that’s why you won’t last long.”

“Good,” you seethe. The hot sting of tears begins prickling again at the corners of your eyes. “I don’t want to.”

He raises his eyebrows and regards you with a vague, detached kind of pity that makes you almost wish he’d just outright condemn you instead, then touches his fingers to the tin cup. “Water’s cool enough now, I think.”

You feel like a petulant child who’s just thrown an ineffectual tantrum. Rendered self-conscious and obedient for the time being, you allow him to secure your elbow with his hand and begin irrigating the wound with warm water.

“Jesus fucking god,” you hiss. You reflexively try and jerk away, but he holds you still and tells you to stop squirming, his grip firm as iron.

It’s the worst pain you’ve felt in years. Like a lick of flame passing over your skin, echoing its progenitor again and again as he washes the cut with a series of short, measured trickles of water, flushing away the combined grime of dried blood, dust, and lint.

“You think this is bad,” he says, unscrewing the bottle of grain alcohol. “Wait’ll I sterilize it.”

If the water was flame, then the alcohol is a streak of molten lava, wet fire soaking through the wound in a rush of white-hot burning pain. You don’t scream — you let out a weak, choking sob so pathetic that you cover your mouth again in an attempt to stifle it.

But you’re a little drunk and your subconscious recognizes this as an excellent excuse to cry, and so it lets flood the tears you’ve kept stoppered up for hours now. You whimper, meet his eyes briefly, then start bawling.

Your crying before hadn’t seemed to bother him, but now he looks almost comically alarmed. He must think it’s the physical pain sending you into hysterics, because he starts trying to comfort you the same way he did Boadicea when he’d led her into the river.

“You’re doin’ good,” he says, cajoling you in a soft, affectionate voice. He sets the bottle of alcohol on the ground and pats you awkwardly on the shoulder. “Just a little more to go, and we’ll be done.”

Another agonizing, scorching splash of fire. He doesn’t chide you this time when you try to pull away.

“Shhhh… I know, I know. Hurts like a bitch, don’t it? I’m gonna give it one more rinse, and — yeah, there we go. You’re alright.”

Morgan wraps the bandage over your arm with deft, practiced fingers, and you wonder briefly how many times he’s had to do this for himself, with no one to soothe him. Though better that than the shoddy job you’d done on him six weeks ago, frantically patching him up with just the barest idea of what you were doing.

He ties off the bandage, then picks the can of peaches off the ground, pops open its metal lid with the tip of his knife and proffers it to you like a peace offering. “Here. You’re hungry, right?”

It’s very hard to cry and eat at the same time. You decide to concentrate on the latter.

After tapering your sobs down to a series of quiet, resentful sniffles, you begin gulping down mouthful after messy mouthful of sliced peach. It’s the first morsel of food you’ve had in over ten hours, and you wolf it down so quickly you hardly taste it. Just an impression of cloying sweetness mixed with something faintly aromatic (cinnamon, you think) lingering as an aftertaste.

The old instincts of hunger are hard to shake off. All decorum thoroughly discarded, you raise the can to your lips and drink down what syrup remains, tilting it nearly perpendicular to the ground to get at the last few drops.

“My god,” Morgan says. “I seen dogs with better manners.”

“If you’d fed me earlier, then I— what’re you doing.”

“What’s it look like I’m doing?” he asks. He holds his bandolier in one hand. The other is working at his shirtcollar. “I’m gettin’ the hell outta these wet clothes.”

You clutch at the empty can of peaches as his union suit reveals itself in a revelation of blue. A blue which, you admit to yourself with an uncomfortable surge of appreciation, suits the shade of his eyes extremely well. But when he begins unbuckling his belt, you quickly avert your eyes. “Really?” you ask. The scandalization you probably ought to have felt from the very moment he’d begun undressing finally begins to surface. “Your pants, too?”

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist. I’m keepin’ the union suit on.”

“Are you usually this brazen with the women you kidnap?”

“D’you usually sit around half-naked with the men who kidnap you?” he asks, jabbing his thumb towards your own discarded shirt, which you’d spread out neatly beside the fire to dry.

“That’s different,” you hiss, knowing very well that it isn’t. “I had a medical reason.”

“Yeah, and so do I. I don’t wanna get pneumonia.”

He has a point. You look down at your own sodden trousers, which cling to your skin in a cold, wet embrace, and your internal scale of comfort versus propriety tips decidedly towards the former.

“Turn your back again,” you tell him.

“What for?”

“I’m gonna take my pants off too, and I don’t want you trying to sneak a peek at my bloomers.”

He laughs, then winces and gingerly splays his fingers across his ribs. It’s the first sign of real levity you’ve seen from him. “Oh, that is the last thing on my mind right now, girl.” There’s a tired grin on his face, and were it not for the events of the day, you might have almost found it endearing. “Besides, you ain’t hardly my type.”

“Well that’s good to hear,” you reply, a little offended. “Because I’m not interested in men with terrible taste.”

But he does as he’s told, and when you’re satisfied with the oblique angle of his range of sight, you let the borrowed blanket fall from your shoulders and pull the ribbon securing your braid free. You rake your fingers through your hair until it hangs loose, then gather the ends of it in one hand and twist it tight to wring out the rainwater. Only then do you pull the blanket back over your shoulders and begin to undress.

First, your boots. Then the knee-length woolen socks, which have left their cable-knit weave as an imprint on your skin. After glancing at him one more time to make sure his face is turned discreetly away, you unbuckle your belt and wriggle your way out of your trousers. It takes some maneuvering, and some thoroughly indecent posturing, to finally get them off. You leave your cotton bloomers on, figuring that the warmth of the fire will dry the thin material soon enough.

When you look back at Morgan, you find that he’s since turned back towards you. Not to gawk, but to get a better look at his own wounds in the firelight.

His union suit is half-unbuttoned. Most of his bare chest is visible, and along with it, the bruises from the ricocheted bullet. A mottle of blue and violet, like a spill of ink that radiates from the negative imprint of the flask that took the impact in his place. And right below it, a glimpse of your own handiwork.

When you’d first found him, the cut had spanned diagonal across his torso, trailing shallow from his chest and biting deep near the ridge of his hip. Most of it’s healed over since, but the edges are angry and inflamed still, and you can see the fading marks of your inexpert stitches laid like railroad tracks over the land of his skin.

“Don’t worry, I ain’t looked at you,” Morgan says. He probes gently at an indigo patch and inhales sharply. “Too busy lickin’ my own wounds.”

If you look closer, you can see the remnants of multiple scuffs and scratches. A history of violence storied across his body, told in the pale lettering of scars, many of them recent. An unwelcome pang of guilt settles itself low in your belly. It looks like he’s been on the road for a while, healing sporadically through long stretches of hard journeying. Hard journeying made worse, no doubt, by your theft of his bonds.

“You… uh. You want me to keep carving off wet bark?”

“Nah,” he says distractedly, still trying to determine the depth of the damage left behind. “Should be fine leavin’ the rest of it to dry out by the fire.”

You draw the blanket tighter around your shoulders, then root around your head for something, anything to talk about. Anything to get this burgeoning sympathy for Arthur Morgan out of your head.

“Your friend in St Denis,” you say finally. “He’s not gonna know much about me if he doesn’t speak Chinese.”

Morgan absentmindedly scratches his chin as he begins buttoning his union suit back up. “Wouldn’t put it past him. I know he’s had dealings with ‘em in the past.”

Something clicks in the back of your head. Long overdue recognition like puzzle pieces fitting together. “What’s his name?”

“Josiah,” he says.

“Josiah,” you echo. The spark of some fit of emotion is beginning to rise in your throat. “Josiah… Trelawney?”

His bewildered face is enough to confirm your suspicions. Relief, anger, confusion — all of them flood you at once with such intensity that you have to take a moment to squeeze your eyes shut. When you open them, you take a deep breath and swallow hard. “Josiah Trelawney’s the son of a bitch I sold your bonds to.”

———

Massive thanks to @reddeaddufus for editing not only this chapter, but the entirety of this fic. This whole thing would be a lot more disjointed if it weren't for her.

Definitely give her fic Red Dead Pursuit a look. The main character is extremely compelling, the plot is fast-paced, and the porn is A+. Her writing style is also a delight to read.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan/reader #arthur morgan/oc #fic #red dead redemption #rdr2 #my work #talking bird

[harrypotter-imaginess]

A/N: This was a request by @fiiiinewine . Mentions of charector death for Hogwarts Mystery and canon. It’s a little angsty, but overall it’s pretty good. Takes place maybe 1-3 years after the seventh book. Hope you like it!

- Molly wraps you up in a warm hug the second she opens the door.

- “Mum I’m here too.” Charlie adds, and she just shushes him.

- She pats him on the shoulder before leading you both inside. The house is completely spotless. Which you don’t doubt is because Molly’s been tirelessly cleaning.

- “Anything to eat dear? Must have been a long journey.”

- And before you can even answer she grabs both of your arms and gives a tender squeeze.

- “Thin as bones,” she mutters. “What are they feeding you in Romania? Broth?”

- “I mean, yeah, there’s always soup.”

- And she clicks her tongue.

- “Soup isn’t proper food dear, it isn’t even proper food before a meal.”

- You laugh and assure her that you’re eating enough and everything is fine.

- “What about me Mum, I eat the same things as (Y/N) does.” Charlie mocks hurt at the lack of attention.

- Molly just rolls her eyes.

- “You’ll be fine, you and Bill once “went camping” with pack of biscuits for a week and came back even plumper then you were when you left.”

- Charlie just rolls his eyes and takes your bags up the stairs. And you go with Molly to the kitchen.

- “Molly do you need help with anything?” Long have the days gone where you call her Mrs. Weasley and she tells you “Call me Molly!”

- “Oh please, call me Mom, you and Charlie have been together long enough.” She says with a wave of her hand and you almost laugh. Somethings don’t change.

- You stand beside her in the small kitchen measuring ingredients for for cookies.

- “So when are you and Charlie thinking of giving me some grandchildren?” She’ll ask, and you stutter to a stop, nearly dropping the measuring cup as you do.

- “I-I think you should ask Bill and Fleur that first shouldn’t you?”

- “Just because he’s the oldest?” She asks, a corner of her mouth quirking up.

- “Well, also because they’re married.” And she scoffs.

- “It’s the 21st century (Y/N), marriage doesn’t mean what it used to.” She shrugs, taking the measuring cup full of flour you’ve extended towards her.

- You never thought that Molly Weasley would have such progressive views. She’s been a fairly traditional homemaker and housewife for much of her adult life.

- “Besides Bill has shifted back to Egypt to work on his curses, not a stable environment for a child right now.” You smile, also too far away for Molly to go visit everyday.

- “Well you’ve always got Percy.” You day with a chuckle, earning a scoff from her.

- “With the formality between those two it’ll be years before I even see them hold hands, let alone a baby.”

- And you both laugh at that.

- Before she can talk more about marriage or babies or any other topic you are completely unprepared for, Charlie comes bumbling through the door.

- “Making cookies?” He asks with a raised eyebrow, pulling out a spoon from the drawer before dipping it into the mixing bowl.

- “Without me? Your beloved son who loves baking more than anything in the world?” He smirks as his mother hits him with a wooden spoon lightly, taking a bite of raw sugar cookie dough.

- “What can I do, you love helping so much you always polish it off before I can even bake it.” Her words are stern, but you can see the cheerful twinkle in her eyes.

- She hits him again with the spoon and he laughs.

- “Well I’ll have to take over for (Y/N), Dad’s outside ecstatic that they’re here.”

- You nod, a grin spreading across your face. You’ve been expecting to talk to him about muggles ever since you arrived.

- You pull of your apron, and hand it to Charlie, exchanging a warm look as you do.

- You vaguely hear: “It’s like they’re already part of the family” and you feel a smile spread across your face.

- Arthur is in the living room, scanning a newspaper. And he smiles wide when he see’s you.

- He stands and envelops you in a warm hug, and you note how he smells like old books and honeysuckle.

- “So good to see you, how’ve you been?”

- And you tell him that you’re doing well. That life in Romania is good, that Charlie seems happy. And he smiles.

- “So when are you two planning on getting married.” And you practically choke on your tea.

- “You know your wife just asked me a similar question in the kitchen.” You laugh, but feel a hear creeping up your neck.

- “Oh she’s my wife and no one to you?” He jokes. “That’s your future mother-in- law you know.”

- You can’t help but laugh.

- Charlie’s in the kitchen, rolling the cookie dough out, sprinkling some more flour on top.

- “Are we the first ones here?” He asks, and Molly nods.

- “Ginny, Harry and George will be here tonight, Ron and Percy will be here tomorrow.” She waves her wand, and the rolling pin begins to move on his own.

- “Spent too long in Romania, you’ve forgotten you can use magic.” She chuckles, and Charlie laughs as well as he blushes.

- “(Y/N) always does it by hand so I didn’t realize.” He murmurs, and Molly smiles.

- Charlie’s freckled face is practically glowing red, his dark red hair cut clean, his beard well trimmed. He looks good.

- “You know, (Y/N) would make someone a fine (Daughter/Son) in law.” And Charlie has to stifle the urge to roll his eyes.

- “They don’t want to get married yet Mum.” He mumbles, grabbing a cookie cutter to press shapes into the dough.

- Molly Weasley’s mouth purses into a long straight line.

- “They don’t want to get married yet, or you don’t?” It’s a pointed question, but her tone is soft.

- A long moment of silence falls between them.

- “They feel strange getting married without Jacob or their parents being there.” Charlie finally breaks the silence.

- “And I feel strange getting married without Fred being there too.” This part leaves much softer, and Molly’s mouth begins to relax into small smile.

- “I suppose I should just be glad Bill had the common sense to get married before.” And Charlie almost scoffs.

- “Is that what we’re calling it? Because at the time I remember seeing you tangled in Christmas lights, muttering “the things you do for love””

- Molly lightly shoves her son and they both laugh.

- When the others arrive is when the fun really starts.

- Warm hugs are passed all around.

- Ginny practically squeals when she see’s you.

- “You’ve gotten so thin! And your hair is so shiny!” She looks at you with wide eyes, expecting to divulge all your secrets but you just shrug.

- “Air in Romania is very clean.” Is the best you can offer.

- Harry offers a polite hug, and George practically wrestles you into a headlock with his bear hug.

- “I’ve got some Products I need your advice on!” He says with a big grin, and you smile back.

- “We’ll stay up after they’ve all gone to bed” You nod.

- There’s hot cocoa, and games of wizard chess, jokes and laughter.

- And you smile when Charlie grabs your hand and gives a tight squeeze.

- You and Charlie are split up when the sleeping arrangements are being made. He’s taken away by a grumbling George, who’s wrapped his arms around his shoulders

- “(Y/N) would be better but you’ll have to test out some new products I’m working on.”

- You and Ginny share her room, sleeping side by side on the bed.

- “Are you and Charlie ever going to get married?” She asks, and you can’t help but let out a groan.

- “Oh not you too!”

- She props up on an elbow

- “It’s a serious question you know, how long have you been dating anyway?”

- And you have to use your fingers to count the years.

- “Hmm eight? No maybe nine.” And Ginny huffs

- “Don’t you think that’s long enough?”

- You sigh, Ginny’s so much younger then you. She may not understand.

- “Well for a few years we were long distance you know.” You tell her, through the dark room you can make out one of her bright red eyebrows raised.

- You sigh again. Might as well be honest.

- “For a while we actually were thinking about it.” You admit, and even through the dark you can see her perk up. “But then-“ you have to still your breath.

- “But then Jacob passed away,” you finally manage, and the words don’t hurt like they used to. “And then my parents,” And this doesn’t seem to hurt as much either. “And then Fred.” You whisper. This one, this wound is still fresh. And you know it’s fresh for her too.

- She doesn’t say anything back.

- Her hand tangles in your own and gives it a firm squeeze.

- The silence is only broken when she says:

- “So no nieces or nephews either then? You don’t need to be married to have kids you know.”

- They really are family

- You just roll your eyes.

- “Maybe we’ll bring home a dragon or something. Molly can knit it a sweater and everything.”

- The next day starts late and lazy, all gathered around the table having a simple breakfast of toast and fruit, glasses of juice and coffee traded along the table.

- You practically run towards him when Bill comes home.

- “You smell like a tomb.” You tel him and he grins.

- “Better than when we were in the cursed vaults at least.” He grins back.

- Fleur kisses both your cheeks and you giggle.

- “‘Ow ‘as Romania been?” She asks, squeezing your arms. “You ‘ave lost weight, yes?”

- Everyone in this family,

- you suppress a giggle as she moves to Charlie. His perplexed expression as she kisses each of his cheeks as well.

- “You know Bill, I still don’t get how you pulled that one off.”

- “Neither do I.” He admits.

- Percy arrives last with Ron, and gives you an awkward hug. Ron giving you a slightly warmer hug, blushing and asking you about the cursed vaults.

- You all stay up until midnight, reminiscing about your days at school. Sharing mugs of tea and cocoa, smiling and joking.

- You exchange gifts at midnight. You get another sweater from Molly, but you don’t miss the way she snatches the significantly smaller sweater she knitted with “W” on it, out of the bag before you notice.

- You give Arthur a stack of muggle encyclopedias , and a warm coat from Romania

- George gives you a bag full of candy and several “Weasley’s Fire Crackers”

- You give him a bag full of Romanian prank shop goods.

- “Hey Charlie what does this say?”

- “I donno mate, but if you use it you’ll find out yeah?”

- You give Ginny a chic overcoat she can wear for colder days on the quidditch pitch.

- “How come this says it’s from you and Charlie?” She asks, and you shrug.

- “Charlie just put his name on it after you got it didn’t he?”

- “Yeah, pretty much.”

- You give Percy a first edition copy of his favorite book, and almost smile when you see his expression. He almost reminds you of the boy you knew in school.

- Ron gets a quidditch jersey, and you give Harry an enchanted pen.

- “A pen?” He asks, he’s not complaining. It’s a nice pen, he’s gotten quite tired of the quills these days.

- “An enchanted pen, you need a strand of hair from someone. And wherever you write on your body, will show up in the same spot on them.”

- “So you know, if you and Ginny are ever apart, you can always send her a message.”

- You did it more for Ginny then for him really. You remember the thrill you felt when you first saw Charlie’s chicken scratch handwriting on your arm after being apart for months.

- Bill gives you an enchanted mirror from Egypt, so you can see whatever it is you want to look at.

- “Let’s be honest Bill, this is really more for Charlie so he can look at the Dragons in the middle of the night without waking me.”

- “It’s for you too, now you won’t have to get up and go with him”

- Fleur give you French perfume and hand cream.

- “Something you ‘vil actually use.”

- You laugh and smile, and grin as you exchange gifts and try them on. Tease each other and blow up fireworks in the backyard.

- It’s only at three in the morning, when everyone else is snug in bed, that you tip toe out of bed. Careful not to wake Ginny.

- Charlie’s already waiting for you downstairs, his eyes bloodshot as he takes a sip of Father’s fire whisky.

- “How is it, that even though we are in the same house, I feel like I’ve seen you for about thirty minutes in the past two days.” He mumbles, his face in your hair, letting out a deep sigh as he presses a kiss to your forehead.

- You settle beside him, your head on his shoulder.

- “Maybe I’d spend more time with you if you actually got me a Christmas present.” You smile teasingly as you rest your chin on his chest, gazing up to look at him.

- You feel his hand tangle with yours, his hands playing with your fingers.

- “I thought you said no gifts this year?” He grins back teasingly, but his eyes are focused on your hand.

- “Well we kinda broke the bank with everyone else’s.” You chuckle, and take a deep breath, taking in his scent.

- Even after all these years he still smells like honeysuckle and grass. He smells like home.

- You shut your eyes, taking in his scent and his warmth. Nearly humming in pleasure. When you feel something cold and hard touch the tip of your ring finger.

- Your eyes open, as you feel it slide down to the base of you finger, where your finger and palm meet.

- you glance down to see a rather remarkable diamond ring sparkling on your finger.

- Charlie holds you close, one arm around your shoulders, while the other hand rests over yours.

- “So what do you say? I feel like we’ve been married for a while now really, why don’t we make it official.”

- You just smile.

#charlie weasley x reader #charlie weasley imagine #charlie weasley #harry potter imagine #harry potter headcanon #harry potter #harry potter hogwarts mystery #hphm #hphm imagine #charlie weasley x jacob's sibling #george weasley x reader #weasley imagines #weasley imagine #molly weasley #bill weasley x mc #charlie weasley x mc

[dreaminpeaches]

“Ladies, Gentlemen, Enbies...HER--I mean Him? Or them?-- whatever, anyways here's the first part of my daydream paracosm, Humble Pie. I was really happy I was able to come up with the first part in a somewhat cohort manner. Part 2 is also going to follow this sometime soon, but after that its probably just gonna be short shorts, text exchanges, and or drabbles, but that first part’s finally a thing! And that’s cool”

“Also just reminder that this paracosm is set in a mix timeline, like people have flip phones, cassette tapes, but still also have stuff like gamer chairs, and slang like sus/lit exist, so I hope that doesn’t bother you..oof”

“Also I wrote this from my Remarkable, then convert it to text, and did some proof reading, but my handwriting is still can only be read by chickens and my dyslexia ninja has sneak 100 accuracy so..yeah

Word count: 6,115

TW: mention of Bullying, DeadBeat dad, Smoking, Drinking, Swearing (only for comedy’s sake tho’), Dissociation, Guilt (but don’t worry there’s still A LOT of fluff in this piece, tho)

Link to Alternate version on my off-site daydream blog: Humble pie part 1

=================================================================

"Okay, here we go" Beau said, taking one last drag of his cigarette, and taking in one last look at the panoramic view of the town below, Newbury, his hometown, he was away for a year because of college which he dropped out of. Well, "dropout" made it seemed like he had a choice, more like he flunked out, there were' 'reasons that 'made college impossible for Beau, reasons that he couldn't get into or more like reasons he didn't want to get into, these were the some reasons that turned what was suppose to be a 5 hour drive into an 8 hour one, making him stop ever so often to the nearest park, overlook, or clearing to get out, smoke and or take a short walk. These stops were so frequent by the time he reached his hometown’s overlook he was on his last stick, hard to believe he started the trip w/ a full box.

He dropped the last of the remains of the cig on the ground and stomped out the glow ember with his dark brown rounded toed boot, watching the embers glow go out made him feel similar in a way.

Beau took one more last look at the small town below blanketed by the dark, light sky. He looked around. the overlook, bring back memories of. late night make outs, sneak outs and general teenaged shenanigans.

Beau remembers once on a night he was really buzzed, a rare event for him, drinking with his buddies, rather it was the buzz from the beer, or he was just 'riding the 'high off scoring the winning goal for the team, or general teen hormones. He felt invincible, so invincible he stood up on the ledge and proclaimed himself as king of the world

A moment Beau looks back at and shakes his head as if to try to erase the memory from his mind like an etch n’ sketch, suddenly he got a bad taste in his mouth or maybe that's just the cigarettes "King of world….yeah, right" Beau said pulling up the collar of his jacket and shrugging his hands into his pockets, and headed back into the car.

It was getting late and there was no use in stalling any longer, might as well continue to the inevitable. Stalling may be that’s the feeling that's been following him the whole time, stalling the fact that he would have to return to his hometown a failure after being touted and praised for being a star athlete , and getting into a ivy league school, a feat his mom was really proud since she herself couldn't go to college because of having Beau at such a young age, and having to deal with a bunch of other “BS” as Beau would put it.

Beau really wanted to make her proud by becoming a famous football player and make tons of money so she wouldn't ever have to worry about bills n 'stuff and live in the malibu dream house she dreamed of living in since she was a kid, a dream she would talk about to her children like it was fairytale during when time got real tough.Even though she sounded upbeat over the phone about the news, Beau knew his mom was an expert when it came to masking her disappointment and skill that was pretty integral with dealing Beau's birth father. He just hopes she's not too disappointed

As the twilight sky grew more dark the street lights flickered on. Familiar and nostalgic landmarks and structures rolled by as Beau drove by with one hand gripping the wheel while the other hand hung casually out of the rolled down window. the nighttime breeze gentle, tossing his cart dirty blond hair mullet. The 'murmur of punk music lighty playing from the car's speaker, that was playing louder earlier but the volume's quickly depleted because blasting punk 'music at night in a small town is pretty serious offensive a risk, a younger Beau would play around with, but now being older he knows better.

Driving into his old neighborhood, seemingly not much has changed, but what do you expect from a small town? The old neighborhood consisted of typical signatures of most middle upper class .. neighborhoods, Christmas ' decorations long over due to be taken down, manicured lawns, next to slightly less manicured lawns. Some lawns adored w/ gnomes and flamingos, a step up from the lawns of homes in his childhood neighborhood whose homes had what one could consider a lawn but just barely, Beau and his brother were lucky enough to have a sizable back yard and a tree house.

His family's lawn had a bunch of outdoor toys laid about on their lawn: a nerf gun, a pink tricycle, a tiled dyed color bouncy ball and an empty container of mega bubble wand. Beau drove up in the driveway being careful to not accidentally run over any of the toys in the yard.

He eject the mixtape from the player and put it into his jacket chest pocket. Beau leaned over and rummaged through the glove compartment fishing out a small travel can of axe's body spray and another small spray can of mouthwash, he used both to cover the scent of cigarette smoke, a smell his mother was highly sensitive to. He popped in a stick of spearmint for extra measure before getting out of the car and going to the trunk to retrieve his suitcase. Beau only had one suitcase since all the stuff really needed and cared about conveniently fitted in one suitcase.

Beau propped up his suitcase as he closed the trunk, the car beeped and blinked as he pressed the lock button. He headed up the pathway to the front door, his heart beating louder and louder with each step leading up to the front door.

Beau took a deep breath, Pulling himself together. "Okay" He said under his breath as his hand slowly reach for the knob but before he could even get a good grip, the door swung open, Beau's eyes raced up to see the thinning hair of a middle aged man, Beau eyes lowered a bit more to see the mustached clad face of the man the hair belonged to. "Hey, Big Boss! '' the mustache man said with a grin. The man was Beau's stepfather, David.

"Hello, David, I-I mean Dad." Beau awkwardly greeted his stepdad, trying his best not to show discomfort at his step dad's “nickname" for him.

"Ha, ha that's okay, son!”David laughed, giving Beau a hefty pat on the back.

"Here, let me get your bags." David said, reaching for Beau's suitcase, looking behind Beau expecting more bags

“You only brought one bag?" he questioned, looking curiously.

'--I like to be efficient" Beau muttered with a shrug and a side glance. "HAHA you and me both, Big B" David chuckled playful elbowing Beau, who gave a half-smile and a small chuckle--well, more like a slight nose huff

"Hey, honey Big B is home!" David shouted as Beau closed the front door.

His mother came rushing from the bedroom in her rose pink robe w/a barbie in insignia on the front with matching fuzzy slippers, her sandy blond hair still damp from the shower.

"My little boy, oh!" she said, warping Beau in a tight motherly embrace. "Welcome home!" Beau's mother pulled back for a second, cupping her son's face in her hands “you’re still so handsome"

"Wait..." Beau gently removed his mom's hands from his face "Are you okay, mom?" He asked his considerate brown eyes searching his mother's teal eyes for any sign of distress.

"Of course, sweetie," his mom beamed. "I have all of my loved ones under one roof. What's more to ask?"

it's just that I didn't- Y-you know." Beau said with downcast eyes

"Oh, that" his mom said wide eyes and then shaking her head in dismissed

"Don't worry about not finishing college, I mean just look at me"

“But You just seemed so proud that I got in, I just didn't want to let you down"

“Sweetie, it's fine," his mom said, gently guiding his head up with her hand to look at him "I was not proud that-You were becoming the smart, sweet kind young man, I always knew you were, but now. I'm just happy that you’re here and I get to see you go. on the journey myself!" Beau chuckled tightly and blushed at his mom's admiration.

"Plus, Your mom's not the only one who is happy to have You home!” David said, gesturing towards the hallway. Beau looked to see a small figure peeking from the corner, the figure quickly disappeared followed by an overflow of giggles.

A smile slowly creeped across Beau's face, he slowly kneeled down. " "Gasp * Is that my little care bear?"

From the shadows totted out, a little girl dressed in a blue care bear patterned nightgown, her blonde hair tied up in pigtails, she grasped a love-a-lot bear in one arm while her other arm was open as she raced towards Beau, also with arms wide open for a hug "Bo-Bo"

"Hey, care bear!" Beau cooed as he picked up his little sister "Wow, You've gotten so big since the last time I saw you!

"Carrie's been asking when you were coming since you told us you were coming home "David stated

"Really?"

"Yep!'' Carrie nodded proudly "You still have the love-a lot bear I won at grad night". Beau vividly remembers winning Love A Lot and his friends making fun of him, but Carrie really appreciated it more than he thought.

"Yeah, she takes it with her everywhere!" mom emphasized “Thank god, the kindergarten has a security blanket policy!

"Aww..." Beau said fondly looking at Carrie, who had her head resting on his shoulder, still grasping love a lot.

Beau thought for a moment and looked around "wait, where Dev?"

"Oh" mom said putting her hand on her head with a semi sigh "He's been going through... things"

"Teenager things: David specified "He's the big one three now.. "

“Don't worry, I can talk to him!”Beau said, confidently, slowly nodding his head

. Carrie lets out a small yawn "Aw, you sleepy, care bear?" Beau asked as Carrie rubbed her eyes

"It's past her bedtime, but she really wanted to see you," Mom said, stroking Carrie's hair. "Is someone ready for the sleep shuttle'?" Beau asked Carrie, looking at her in her sleepy hazel eyes, she nodded in response

"Alright, Here we go!" Beau held Carrie in both hands placing his arms out in front of him, he kneeled down and started counting down. "3…..2...1. Blast off!"

Beau shot Carrie in the as he stood back up. As he moved towards Carrie's bedroom, he moved all around side to side, up and down while making spaceship sounds, Carrie was giggling all the way through.

"Incoming! "Beau shouted as he swooshed Carrie round a few more times before landing her swiftly on the bed.

"Huston, the eagle. has landed!." Beau said, holding his ear as if he had an earpiece "Not eagle! Bear!" Carrie stated holding up her care bear "correction, the "BEAR" has landed!" Beau correcting himself, bringing a huge smile to her face as she nuzzled her care bear

"Okay, night, right, care bear" Beau said patting carries head

"Wait!" Carrie said holding on to her brother's arm "Is Bo-Bo still gonna be here in the Morning?""Of course, I'm not going anywhere at least for a while.." "Beau said, kneeling down to Carrie's eye level.

"Okay, I like having Bo-Bo around:'' Carrie said "and I like being around" Beau said, "see you in the morning, care bear" Beau gives Carrie a good night kiss on the forehead.

She settles into bed as Beau closes the door. Beau grinned to himself, feeling lucky to have such a cute sister. He remembers when Devin was that little, speaking of Dev. Beau apphoraced Dev's bedroom door. The door was caution tape, Don't enter signs, with a please knock before entering sign.

At first Beau did think about knocking but then thought "I could be a respectful older brother respect the sign or I could have fun and be a little shit. He pondered about it for a minute then-"yeah, I'm gonna be a little shit.”

Beau took a card out his wallet and wedged it in between the door to jimmied the lock. He peeked through the door to see Dev playing a video game on the tv. "you little..." Beau said under his breath, before bombastically opening the door "Hey there, squirt!" Beau said, shoving the door open

"Didn't you read the sign?!" Dev said as he turned around in his gamer chair in both shock-and annoyance

"Wow, that's a pretty warm welcome to give your older brother you haven't seen in a year!" Beau snarked, pretending to look hurt'' "Nice to see you too!"

"Oh my god!" Dev said, rolling his eyes and turning his chair back to tv, bringing his attention back to the game.

"and here I thought you were working on a project or homework or some school shit!" Beau continued "but no, you're just sitting here playing one of your little nerd games"

"Oh my god, can't you just leave!" Dev groaned as he hunching closer to the tv.

"You couldn't at least say "Hi" " Beau said now standing right behind Dev gamer chair

Dev raised and waved his hand half-heartedly and flatly said "hi"

"Well, damn I feel loved," Beau said sarcastically. "aren't you at least gonna look at me?" shaking the gaming chair a bit to gain an ounce of his little brother’s attention.

“ I saw you "Kool aid man" into my room. Is that enough?" Dev said still focusing on the game Beau sighed, then got an idea "Dev! Dev! I think there's something wrong with my heart I think I gonna-ugh!" He said staggering forward a bit before falling in Dev's lap, knocking out the game controller out of Dev's hands.

"Come on! I was in the middle of battle!" Dev whined looking at his brother playing dead

"Get off of me!" Dev go armed as he tried to push beau off with no luck

"Come on, Beau!" He gored in frustration “I know you're not dead! I can still feel your heartbeat..."

Get up!" Beau remained still, Dev rolled his eyes; he knew the exact words to get his brother off his back or in this case lap.

"Big brother, can you please get off of me n Dev utter begrudgingly "Aw, you haven't call me ‘Big brother’ in years" Beau chimed with a smile, finally getting up "I'm still kind of hurt, that you cared about your gaming progress than the well being for your one and only big brother"

"You were still breathing, I could literally see you inhaling and exhaling." Dev clarified rubbing his forehead

"Touche, I guess" Beau said he then directed Dev's chair in front his bed," now that I have your attention"

"Okay, I guess I should say sorry since you couldn't and say "hi" to me because you were too busy saving some elf princess, or some anime chick with huge melons"

"I-H-Hey I don't even play those types of games!" Dev argued blushing

" .-sure you "don't'." Beau taunted with a wink, Dev goanned "Anyways, Anyways you don't have to say "hi",; but you could at least not talk to me"

Beau suggested, shrugging. "I guess" Dev mumbled kind of sinking into his chair "cool, so how's life?" Beau started, trying to start a diagoul "okay"

"How's school?"

"Okay"

"How’re your friends?"

"Okay"

"Got a girlfriend?"'

"NO”

"Got a boyfriend?"

N-NO"

"Got any crushes"

“….NO…..."

"joined any clubs or any other after school junk?"

" ..... NO..."

"Are you just gonna answer all my questions in one word?"

Dev fell quiet, and shifted his gaze from his brother

“Okay, that's it!" Beau huffed, he picked up Dev and hoasted him over his shoulder "Hey! put me down!" Dev-shouted , beating his fists on Beau's back "Not until you talk to me like an actual person, and one worded answers aren't gonna cut it, squirt!"

"MOM! Dad!"

"Mom and Dav-Dad are fast asleep, and you know they both sleep like rocks!" Beau stated'' the only person you'll wake up is Carrie, and You don't want to wake little care bear, now do YOU?"

Dev fell Quiet again, "You know I can hold you like this for hours, you aren't really that heavy, or you can just end this and talk to me" Beau suggested ending the suggestion with a sigh and started to stomp his foot impatiently..

Dev continued the silent treatment for a bit until letting out a meek "Okay...I'll try" .

Hey, three words, that's a start!" Beau cheekly commented,He sat Dev back down in his green gamer chair.

"Okay, do over!" Beau said casually sitting across from Dev and his bed. "so, how's school going?" "F-fine” Beau gave Dev a intense look, reminding Dev of his word count “N-no, I mean it's just weird" Dev stuttered choosing his words carefully, Dev fiddled with his hoodie sleeves.

"and it's weird because..." Beau initiated, gesturing his hand toward encouraging Dev to continue "It's weird because.... I don't know, Middle school is way different than 'elementary school, I mean I knew that from tv, but middle school isn't like tv."

"It's okay, nothing like tv, that thing lies” Beau softly chuckled to himself and continued “I remember thinking Pogo sticks were the SHIT-cuz 'of people and cartoons on tv made it look so easy"

"I finally got enough money for one-- you were like little you probably don’t remember this-- but I was SO HYPED, I wanted mom to watch me. I took one hop, fell on my ass, and never hopped on that bitch again. I was pissed, I think mom was trying to her best not to laugh but I was so pissed I think I didn’t notice until now. I chucked the pogo stick in the garage, and I never looked at that bitch again”

Dev let out a stiff laugh, the defensive wall Dev put was slowly breaking

"Oh WAIT WAIT!” Beau said taking a moment to correct himself “ That WASN’T the last time the last time I looked that bitch, I fished it out of garage years later, only cuz’ I need some money for Madden. So, I did look at that bitch one more time, but only to sell that bitch.”

Dev let out a more audible laugh, but quickly caught himself and recollected, returned to his disillusioned teenage state.

"Anyway, The teacher's are kind of weird, like a lot of them hate my guts already, except for the coaches who are super nice to me." Dev explained, kind of looking away from his brother

"Weird, why do you think that is?" Beau asked whole hearty

"Because I'm related to you, Numb skull!" Dev blunted , groaning putting his hand on his forehead

"Oh damn, I guess that's my fault." Beau realized, rubbing the back of his neck "My bad. that my awesomeness is just lengardy"

Dev shook his head and rolled his eyes "It's not awesome to live in YOUR shadow!" Dev sulked, sinking back into his chair, his hands covering his face.

"You don't have to follow in my awesomeness, I know I'm a hard act to follow." Beau boasted teastingly so"You just gotta make your own awesomeness."

"What does that even mean?" Dev questioned, moving his hands down, allowing his eyes to peek through his fingers, trying not to given the urge to roll his eyes

"It's like my awesomeness comes from my boyish charm and good looks..." Beau claimed, striking an award winning smile, The urge not to roll his eyes was becoming even hard for Dev, but he still had to try and respect Beau "But your awesomeness could come from being good at games, or computers shit or math or robots or something--I don't know something real nerdy"

"I guess, you're right" Dev mumbled and shrugged,lifting himself up back into a sitting position rather than almost spilling out of his chair.

"Its not a guess, its science!" Beau declared proudly, tapping his temple with his index finger

"No,that's not science!" Dev arguing his brother's stupidity, flatly shaking his head in disagreement

"See, there you go using your nerd awesomeness" Beau pointed out with a wink "Keep that up and you'll go from Beau's lil bro, to just ‘Dev’ in no time." Beau playful tousled Devs mop dirty blonde hair

"I mean.." Dev continued batting his brother's hand away, "I was also thinking of joining the video game club or the robotics club at school."

"There you go another nerdy thing that to add to your own awesomeness" Beau said

"Yeah...." Dev continued ignoring his brother's comment' “Some of my friends are thinking about joining, and it would be a nice place to go away from mom and dad."

"I had sick memories of hanging out with the team, we got into some wild shit." Beau said laughing to himself, fondly reminiscing "But I'm sure you and you geek squad could have "wild" times too, like making an anime robot 'weify." or whatever those called or finding a new math formula or something"

Dev fell quiet for another moment, Beau always seems like he’s in between being supportive and subtly roasting him, Dev then uttered "um... I think I kind of have a crush... on a girl..."

"AYE, let's go! "Beau exclaimed, clapping and shaking Dev's chair for a bit before bouncing back on the bed'' Come on, don't leave me hanging, what's her name? "Have you talked to her vet? Have you asked her out? Have-"

"Calm down!" Dev demanded "I said I had a crush, I didn't say we’re going out.'"

"Oh, so you haven’t talked to her, huh?”

"No, I-I don't even know her name" Dev huffed, he let his arms slip into his oversize sleeves and covered his sleeves with his face in frustration.

"You know you could just ask, not the chick, like just ask around"

"I can't do that because if I do, people will find out I like her and if she finds out, I would just have to stop going to school!”

"Okay, let’s just pretend you DO have the balls to talk to this girl, what's the worst that could happen?" Beau suggested

"She finds out that I like her, thinks I'm weird and never wants to talk to me again or even look at me!” Dev muffled through his sleeved covered face

"You really think she can sus that out all in one go!" Beau said "I mean she is a middle Schooler unless she's like a young nancy drew, she is not going to chew you up and spit out like that." Beau explained "speaking of which''

Beau paused for a moment to spit out his gum into the trash can "Score!"

"Anyways, have you done anything weird to her or around her?"

"No, I mean I look at her in the hallways before and in between class, but I don't like-- stalk her or anything too weird." Dev mumbled, moving his sleeves from his face, but his head was still targeted down at his fingers fiddling with a tag on his black shorts

"So, then what's the fear?" Beau inquired, resting his chin on the heel of his palm

Dev thought for a moment, his eyes shifting looking for an answer." I-I guess I just don't know how to talk to her."

"Well, fuck, that's easy" Beau chuckled “Just talk about school shit, or just say "hi"

"Is it really that easy?"

"Yeah, if you have the balls for it" Beau reiterated "Think about it like this, the dudes you play in your little nerd games have to fight a dragon, a demon or some anime witch with huge melons to talk to the girl they like and they er brave enough to do all of that wacky shit. But you’re lucky, you don't have a dragon for real in your way to keep you talking from your crush. The dragon's just in your head! If those hero dudes can fight dragons they actually can see, doesn't that mean you can fight a dragon you don't even see."

"That was a really lame and kind of confusing metaphor" Dev sassed " But I guess understand what your trying to say"

"Exactly" Beau said nodding confidentiality

"Can we talk about mom and dad?" Dev asked sheepishly, looking up at his brother, (well as much as he could with his shaggy bangs in the way), his fingers now toying with his hoodie strings

"Did something happen?"

"No, I mean yeah, I mean it's just weird" Dev said "Mom and dad are starting to get more annoying but I don't know if they were always like that or they like charged"

"No, parents don't really change-usually” Beau explained “It's just that being a teenager makes you hypersensitive to a bunch of shit and makes you wanna be alone more. Parents, the good ones like spending time with their kids and they actually want quality time n' shit and that's where they start to get annoying".

“"Oh okay,” Dev nodded.'' It's just weird because sometimes I feel like I hate them, but I don't want to. I think I just really want to be alone more like you said but I don't want to shut them out, I just want them to get that." Dev-fiddles with the strings of his green hoodie

"Yeah, I think they do in a weird old people kind of way. Believe it or not they were teenagers to even if that was back in the stone age n' shit" Beau joke"

Dev let out an actual laugh, a sign to Beau that he's little bro was being less of a moody teenager

"Anyway, even with that said mom and david-I mean dad aren't mind readers, it would be cool if you give them a heads up, you don't have to tell them all about what's going on in your little teen nerd brain but at least something simple like something weird or funny that happened at school, or asking for help on homework or a project for class or some shit like that, I'm pretty sure Dav-dad would love that.."

"I guess I could try". Dev said slightly nodding his head "But Carrie is kind of weird too!

"How can Carrie be weird, she's 5.” Beau scoffed "she doesn't do anything weird really"

Dev added" it's just sometimes she's regular cute and other times she's annoyingly cute if that makes sense"

"I mean like kind of get what you're saying but "Beau shrugged gesturing his hand toward prompting Dev to continue

"Like I still look out for her because she little, but because she's little that means I have to do dumb stuff like look for monsters under her bed or do that sleep shuttle thing you do, but I can't really do it because my arms give out halfway through and she's heavier than she looks."

"Well, little brothers and sisters are annoying, it's kind of their job, trust me I know from experience" Beau: put his hand on Dev's knee, Dev tried to Swat at it but Beau quickly put his hand back with a smirk.

"But like with mom and da-David just cuz she's annoying doesn't mean You can’t look out for her n stuff"

"I guess, its because lately, it seems like'' Dev paused 'for a beat, his hands hard gripping the strings of his hoodie, before continuing" I don't know mom and dad have been paying more attention to her than me"

A mischievous smile creeps across his face. "AW does someone miss being the baby?"'

"Oh, fuck! I knew you 'er gonna say that!" Dev blurted out, feeling really exposed, he pulled his hoodie strings allowing his head to be consumed by his hoodie, all but his nose.

"Hey! language,” Beau said, surprised at his little brother's reaction those harsh words coming out of the mouth of small boy sporting a Yoshi hoodie

"You cuss' all the time!" Dev huffed pulling his hoodie back down, then crossing his arm definitely

"Yeah, but I'm older than you, and if mom and David--DAD hear you curse they’er gonna know you got it from me and won't get off my ass about it!"

Dev stared at his brother, simmering in frustration in failing to coming up w/a good come back or a flaw in his brother's logic, He let out a heavy sigh and resumed "Anyways, it's NOT like I miss being the baby, I just miss being able to hold their attention without Carrie coming in and stealing them anyway, I don't know its weird"

"Wait, did you just say that you wanted to be alone and away from mom and David-fuck. I'm not even gonna try more-he's asleep anyways." giving up any attempt to make the word "Dad" same with the name "David"

"Yeah, I know that's what makes it weird!" Dev admitted, he sulked back deeper into his chair and let out a groan.

"You know Carrie's not awake all the time, maybe you can talk to mom and David, when she goes down for her nap, hell, I could just take her to the park for a day." Beau offered

"You'd really do that for me?" Dev peeped, quickly lifting himself up in a sitting position, surprised at his brother kind offer

"Yeah, anything to make you less of a weird angsty shut in, with a bunch of cringy keep out signs and keep out tape!" Beau gestured towards the door

"Actually, I got that caution tape from a real crime scene" Dev clarified, with a smug smile

"Really?" Beau taking a longer closer look at the door

"No, thick head, I found it in a dumpster next to party city!"

"You go dumpster diving?" Beau said, raising an eyebrow

"I have a life outside of YOU!" Dev stated proudly

"Okay, and on that... Weird garbage goblin flex, sibling bonding time is over." Beau said getting up from the bed and heading for the door

"Actually, one more thing..." Beau said quickly, turning around, rushing towards Dev, putting him into a headlock.

"Did ya miss me? Come on, tell me that you missed me!" Beau taunted as he gave his brother a long and through noogie "Ouch, Ow, Ow, Okay, okay, I missed You. Geez:" Dev pleaded trying to struggle out of his brother's grip

"That's what I wanted to hear!" Beau said with a smirk, letting 'Dev go.

"Ugh! my hair" Dev fumed , gawking at his even more messy mop of hair.

"Like you care about appearances" Beau chuckled" mop top nerd!"

"Mullet-hair metal meathead!"

"Ouch, that was pretty good" Beau teased pretending to look hurt "Garbage Goblin"

"You already-"Dev started but was cut off by Beau closing the door

"Too late, the door is closed, I can't hear you, which means I win!" Beau said through the door, laughing at his brother's muffled fury of frustration.

Beau grinned relishing in the absolute confusion of his younger brother, but that good vibe quickly faded once he arrived at the door to his old bedroom. He just stood there and stared at the door for a bit, he could feel the icky stew of the emotions from bubbling back up again.

He flexed his hand a few times as if this was the first time he's ever pored a door, Beau's hand reached for the door handle before retracted as if the knob was red hot.

Beau sheepishly looked around as if somebody was watching him, no one was but it sure did feel like it. He considered sleeping on the couch, but that would be weird, since it seemed like his step dad put his luggage in his room. so, eventually he would have to go into his room anyway.

Beau took a deep breath. "Come on, it's just a door, dude!" He told himself Beau's hand rested on the door knob, he took another deep, his hand gained a stronger grip, and he slowly pushed the door open, Beau carefully entered the room as he closed the door behind him. Looking around the room was plaster with posters of football players and a few pinups of doe-eye, sensual women in swimsuits and other scantily clad outfits.

Athletic medals, trophies and awards displayed proudly on his bookshelf that lacked any actual books, those trophies stood next to pictures of Beau with his teammates, all illuminated by the moon's dull pale blue light. These relics of what felt like a bygone era used to fill Beau with so much pride and joy but looking at them now just leaves a bad taste in his mouth.

He could barely even recognize himself in those photos. This whole room felt like a shrine or more like a tomb to someone who no longer exists.

Looking at all this stuff just made the icky feelings from before rise up to the back of his throat making the bad taste linger even longer.

Beau couldn't really pin what-these feelings were, so he shifted his focus on just getting some sleep

As he thought, Beau's step dad put his luggage on his bed. He opened his bag and quickly changed into a white tank top and some grey sweatpants. He fished out the mix tape from his jean jacket and put into the gray clucky music player on his nightstand. Beau turns the music up loud enough for him to hear but not loud enough for disturb anyone else. Heavy metal music (ironally) helped him sleep on hard nights.

Beau laid in bed focusing on the one spot in his room that wasn't decorated with high school memorabilia. Focusing on that spot was way better than focusing on the icky feelings from earlier. All he needed to was focus on sleep just sleep, Beau closed his eyes and tried to focus on just sleep.

The next time Beau opened his eyes, he was back in the hallway of his highschool. Beau looked around confused why he was back here but before he could really sus out the situation, his thoughts were interrupted by a loud thud. He followed the sound of the thud that led to a scene of a bespectacled student being shoved up against the lockers. The student's face contorted by fear.

"P-please, d-don't hurt me. "the student uttered, the words quivering as it left his lips.

"Aww, look at him, guys." a familiar voice said, Beau couldn't see whom the voice belonged to. There was a strange mist in the hallway that obscured the person's face.-

"He's scared." the voice said mockly, the person nodded towards a group of people whose faces were also obscured by the mist, they laughed in response

“Don't worry, little buddy, I'm not gonna hurt ya:" the person taunted as he tightened his grip on the student and shoved his body up against the failing student. "As long as you don't squeal" .

"You squeal, and I'll fry you like the pig you are, got it. Swine?"

"I-I p-promise I W-won't. J-just please let me go!" the student begged

Beau was disturbed by scene happening before him, but along with the feel of disgust came a feeling of familiarity, like he's been there before

Just then the fog lift to reveal the face of a younger version of Beau dawned in his red “New Burny High school” letterman jacket. He was smirking relish in the fear he was inflicting on the poor student.

Older Beau slowly back up, almost stumbling as he was coming to the realization of the origin of all those icky feelings from before

"I don't know, do we trust him, guys?" Younger beau asked cocking his head back to his teammates, who shook their head in disagreement "The Boys and I don't seem very sure of that, I think I'm gonna have to test your loyalty !" Younger Beau winded up his arm for a punch, But before his fist could make an impact.

Beau found himself back in his room in a cold sweat, hyperventilating as quickly rose from his bed. His room, still illuminated by the moonlight, with the metal mix tape softly playing in the background. He looked at his hand as if they were lethal weapons. How could I do such a thing?

#daydream blog #daydream blogging #daydream dairy #paraportal #paracosm: humble pie #para: beau #para: devin #para: carrie #immersive daydreaming #paracosm

[dholwrites]

Little Heart

Notes: Moments between the Crystal Exarch and his son while the Warrior is away. Playing dress-up, eating meals, and telling bed time stories. For @blood--hunter and written for pre 5.3 patch! Relationship: G’raha Tia / Unnamed Warrior of Light Rating: G - General. (Very high fluff content) 

Inspiration link Ao3 Link

“Do you have everything you need? Food, clothes, weapon?” G’raha shifts back and forth on his feet, eyes following the Warrior of Light. His Warrior of Light. The thought of it still sends butterflies fluttering around in his stomach. All his fussing is easily hushed with a simple ‘yes,’ your face twisted to barely suppress your smile at his fretting. You reach out to pet the child nestled to his chest, tiny kitten ears poking out of the hood of his onesie and wiggling constantly as his hands grasp at the decorations on his father’s robes.

You have left them both alone before; usually leaving to help the newly inspired Warriors of Light, or to the Source to check on the Scions. However, those trips were usually a day at most. This is the first time you have had to leave for a week, and it’s a test of how well everyone can handle the situation. Problems of the Source wait for no one, not even the Warrior of Light.

“Wey,” G’raha whispers, breaking into a smile when he gets his son’s attention. Wey’s innocent red eyes look back and forth between his parents, trying to figure out what is happening. “Do you want to say ‘See you soon’?” With an eager nod from him, G’raha easily sets the child on his feet and watches as he waddles up to you.

“Byebye, I love you.” His little voice barely reaches your ears as he squeezes you as hard as he can, trying to prevent you from leaving. G’wey then mashes the bottom half of his face against your cheek for a ‘kiss’ and waits for you to do the same. The pout on his face lightens when you press your lips to his chubby cheeks, giggling when your hair tickles his face.

G’raha smiles at the scene, wishing that he could take a picture and cherish the moment for the rest of his life. He steps up to press his own kiss onto your waiting lips, chest to chest, his hand reaching out to grip your shirt and his tail unconsciously wrapping itself around your leg. And just like that, you step through the portal and vanish.

  Day 1

It’s the first breakfast without you there, and G’wey is already searching for you. The kitten has made a point to ignore the breakfast sitting in front of him; instead, he kicks his legs impatiently and attempts to look into the entryway to see if he could catch a peek of you coming down the hall. 

“Where did they go?” G’wey looks up at his father from a high chair, clearly confused about why you haven’t left your room yet. He manages to wiggle himself from the confines of his chair; just as he stands on his seat, his balance starts to slip and he nearly topples over before G’raha catches him with a wave of magic. Unfazed, the child continues to grasp at the air for answers. “Dada? Where are they? They were here yesterday.” 

G’raha couldn’t help but wonder if this is how he looked when he was still a baby, a red-haired kit with mismatched eyes asking every question under the sun. “They left yesterday, remember? So we’ll have to wait.” G’raha crouches down to give his beloved son a kiss on the top of his head. Gears turn in his mind on how to explain this issue - and a quick glance at the calendar reminds him of how long it will be before you come back - before his attention is brought back to the squirming child. “Do you remember your numbers, Wey?”

“Yes, Dada!” The kit raises his hands and wiggles all his fingers before counting them. “One, two, tree, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten!”  

G’raha couldn’t help but feel proud when G’wey didn’t miss a single number. He reaches out and cups his hands to curl around the fingers. “They will be back in five breakfast, you will have to be a little patient, okay?” 

“But that’s a really long time.”

“I know, but it’s going to be worth it. They might bring back a present.” The child instantly perks up at the mention of a new toy, eagerly nodding his head as G’raha picks up the bowl of cut chicken and spoons a small portion. He holds it up to G’wey’s mouth, urging him to take the bite. “Since they are away right now, we can also plan what we can do when they come back.”

“Then…” He hurries to eat the food, red eyes shining like jewels, it takes him a moment to find the right words to say what is on his mind. “Can I have a second breakfast? Then we will have… five more breakfasts before they come home... right?”

G’raha nearly keeled over at the suggestion, he let go of G’wey to cover the wide smile spread across his face. A burst of laughter tickles his throat while his heart flutters like a bird in his chest. Is it possible to love his son any more than he does now? 

  Day 3

“How about this one?” G’raha holds up another onesie. It was a present, from Dulia Chai and Chai Nuzz after they found out that the famed Exarch and Warrior of Light had a child. The onesie is fashioned into his own robed attire with the softest material available, with the metal details replaced with durable wooden ones for him to play with. G’wey lets out a happy squeal at the sight of it, running over and nearly tripping over his own feet in his hurry. 

He had already spent a better part of the day changing his son from one onesie into another. Several of them were fashioned after outfits of their Warrior; a pure white attire with a matching cane, loose red far eastern robes with a wooden sword to match, and even a set of black robes with a pile of cards for him to play with. Each outfit is lovingly recreated with small alterations to make it safe. 

He helps G’wey into this new outfit, even pulling the hood up to hide his bright red hair for good measure. The light laughter that erupts is infectious, G’raha unable to stop himself from letting out a chuckle as he pats his head.

“I look like you now!” The mi’kitten declares after he picks up a toy version of his staff. The toy is barely a forearm’s length, and G’wey waves it around like a wand while G’raha cleans up the mess they’ve made. The sight is almost too adorable to bear. 

The hood has started to slip off, with one side barely hanging on by an ear while the other wiggles free from the hem. The long sleeves that replaced his armbands were long enough to cover everything but his fingers, and he had already rolled them up to properly grip the staff. The cut of the skirt is high enough to prevent him from tripping on it and they even cut a hole for the tail to poke out, the tuft wiggling without restraint. 

Could his son be any cuter?

  Day 5

“Crystal Exarch, sir!”

A Crystarium guard hurried over to him with a report from Lyna. There were reports of trade routes coming under attack, but nothing that he had never handled before. With the Lightwardens gone, the remaining sineaters have begun to attack recklessly, endangering travelers. Even the local wildlife has found it easier to pick off unsuspecting merchants when they’re too worried about other threats. 

With his father distracted, G’wey moves to stand in front of his growing crowd of friends. He pulls the hood over his head and puffs out his chest, even tapping the end of the toy onto the ground twice as if to command them. Unknownst to him, the passing adults had taken notice of the tiny Exarch and even started to greet him as such. By the time G’raha finally turned his attention back to G’wey, he was immersed in a game of pretend. 

“Begone, foul sin eater! I am the Crystal Exarch and the Crystarium is under my protection!” G’wey declares, brandishing his staff while a few of ‘civilians’ hide behind him. An elezen child prowls towards him on his tiptoes, hands reaching out to grab his costume. 

“I am the greatest Sineater! And there is nothing you can do to stop me from eating everyone!” 

“Don’t worry, I’ll summon heroes to come and save us!” G’wey steps up before G’raha had the chance to move from the sidelines. He swings his staff, careful not to hit anyone before slamming the end onto the ground. “Champions heed my call!”

With those words, G’raha’s face grows a shade closer to his hair. A mix of embarrassment and pride was enough for him to miss the other children running in to join the scene. The grin that broke out on his face could be seen a mile away. There’s no way, how could he have known those words? Unless… someone had told him the story of what happened down in the ruined city beneath the sea. But there is only a small handful that would know, and he’s yet to ask any of the Scions to babysit. That would leave...

His Warrior?

  Day 6

“Wey, you need to eat your veggies.” He had already tried to combine different types of vegetables into soups and cream, attempted to dress them up to make them more appealing, and even hid them into meatballs. Most of his attempts have been successful, but he really wished to nurture a love for at least some vegetables. He’d find another way to convince G’wey to eat more later. Right now, his main concern is to get him to eat at least half of the popoto salad that he had prepared. “Just try to finish as much as you like, okay?” 

G’wey looked reluctantly at the salad sitting in front of him before crossing his arms and turning the other way. “I don’t want to! I hate vegetables. I’m a big kid now, so I don’t need to eat them.”

G’raha lets out a defeated sigh, scratching his head over what to do in this situation. He picked up a small spoonful of the salad and held it up to G’wey’s mouth, only for the mi’kitten to turn his entire body to move away from the food. Just as he was about to give up, an idea occurred to him. 

“Wey~” He coos softly as he casts a spell on himself. Within a blink of an eye, he’s gone. The Exarch had to stop the laughter creeping up his throat as he watched G’wey frantically look around the room to spot him in this sudden game of hide and seek. 

G’raha nudged the spoon into his mouth, the magic dispelling only when G’wey started to eat. He watches as his red eyes light up the more he chews his food, his tail wagging with uncontainable excitement. A sign of relief escapes G’raha’s lips as he uses his free hand to brush aside some of his hair. 

“It’s good for you to eat them even if you’re a big boy now.” G’raha sets the spoon back into his small hands before helping him eat another mouthful. This time the child is more than eager to inhale the salad, his tiny ears wiggling in delight at every bite. He reaches out to pat the child on the back, rubbing small soothing circles to prevent him from choking on himself. “Even Lyna still eats her vegetables. She eats both her meat and carrots everyday to be the captain of the guard.” 

“T-then I’ll eat them!” G’wey declared, looking as intimidating as one could be with half of his face covered in eggs and mashed popotoes. “I’ll eat them so that I can be strong enough to protect everyone!”

  Day 7

“Dada?” G’wey quietly asks as he is tucked into bed with a plushie next to him. The child kicks at the blanket to get his attention, staring up at him with bright and hopeful eyes. “Can you tell me a bedtime story?” 

“Why, I never thought you would ask, Wey.” G’raha seats himself on the edge of the bed, leaning against the headrest. Tomes from the bookshelf gently glide across the room to hover before G’wey, who still marvels at the magic as if he’s seeing it for the first time. “What story do you want to hear about tonight?” 

“Anything! All the stories you tell are good.” G’raha smiles as he decides to untuck some of the blanket to make himself comfortable beside his son. All but one book return to their rightful place, the last book’s magic pouring out into the room as the pages flip open. Parts of the room transform into a scenic mountain range with a snowy landscape, and the center sits the step towards the bridge that leads to the kingdom. The dark spiralling towers stand cold and alone as snow descends from the skies.

It’s a familiar sight to him now. Especially as he’s mastered the art of storytelling over the years; starting with Lyna, then the other children of the Crystarium, and finally presenting the polished experience to G’wey. He always enjoyed telling stories of everything that his warrier have done as the Warrior of Light. “Once upon a time, in a world different from ours, there was a kingdom that was friends with dragons. They lived in harmony, but one day, the knights of the kingdom decided to betray them and steal the dragons’ power.” 

The scene shifts as he continues the tale, moving from the kingdom to a group of knights celebrating their victory over a still dragon. With G’wey tucked into his arms, G’raha continues his story and paints a tale of the Dragonsong War; of the struggle that the hero has gone through, the triumphs that they have achieved, and the people that once stood beside them. 

As the story draws to a close, the Warrior of Light has defeated Nidhogg and saved their friend. The yawn that G’wey let out nearly stopped him in his tracks. The mi’kitten snuggles to his chest with tiny red eyes that he can barely keep open. With a wave of his hand, the magic is dispelled and the book is set on the nightstand beside the bed. The warm glow illuminating the room from the night lamp hanging from the wall, G’raha could hear and feel the loud purr rumbling from the kitten. 

“Da? Will I ever be able to do magic like you?” 

“Of course you can, G’wey.” G’raha answers right away, though G’wey didn’t stay awake long enough to hear the answer to his question. He pulls the sheets up to the child’s chin as he continues, “You can learn magic or how to use a sword. Whatever you do, as long as you’re safe, I will be there to support you.”

G’raha starts to hum under his breath an old lullaby that once cradled him into sweet dreams. Though a lot of the words have become muddled from his memory, he can feel it ease all the stress of the day off his shoulders. Beside one of his most precious treasures, G’raha slips into a peaceful rest, knowing that in the morning his family will be whole again. 

#G'raha Tia #Crystal Exarch #ffxiv headcanon #ffxiv fanfic #ffxiv #fanfic #writing commission #commission #ffxiv g'raha tia

[comic-book-jawns]

Dr. Dani

“Jamie?”

Jamie usually went in early on Tuesdays to handle deliveries, insistent it was a one-person job. Dani had, of course, pushed back. So they’d eventually come to a comprise: Dani would join her every other Tuesday.

Dani had come in last week, though, so today she’d slept in and was now walking in a few minutes to 9. Jamie, however, was nowhere to be found.

The back room was the only place left to check. She’d knocked but gotten no response. So now she was opening it for good measure. If Jamie wasn’t in here, it was then time to start panicking.

But, as it turned out, she was... and Dani immediately started panicking. Jamie was curled up on the floor, shaking, breathing heavily and alarmingly pale.

“Jamie?!”

Dani rushed over and knelt beside her, but she didn’t touch her. Her first thought, naturally, was that Jamie was having panic attack, and she was cursing herself for not being here. Maybe it wouldn’t have happened if she had been.

But as Dani continued to process the scene, she realized she was wrong. Jamie’s breathing, while heavy, was slow, controlled — like Jamie was nauseous.

“I’m... I’m fine... will be... happens... sometimes.”

Her mouth sounded a bit full, like she was eating something. She sat up shakily, not meeting Dani’s eyes, and started moving toward the counter to their left. Dani looked over.

A big orange juice carton was sitting on a half-torn paper bag. Some had been poured out into a glass, but the glass was mostly full. And beside them was an open packet of peanut butter crackers. One cracker had a small bite taken off, but otherwise, they were untouched.

As Dani watched, Jamie tried to reach up for the glass. Dani beat her to it, and Jamie slumped gratefully against the counter. Dani handed it to her.

“Thanks.”

Her mouth still sounded full, and Dani hadn’t seen her chewing. It was almost like she was holding the cracker bite in her mouth.

The glass shook as Jamie held it with both hands, slowly brought it to her lips, took the smallest of sips, then slowly lowered it, gasping. Dani cupped her cheek. It was clammy.

“Jamie, do you have hypoglycemia?”

Jamie gave her a blank look.

“You really need to eat but you feel too sick to?”

Jamie’s eyes went wide. She nodded vigorously. Dani exhaled, not realizing she’d been holding her breath.

“Okay, I’ll be right back.”

Jamie’s eyes got even bigger. Dani cupped her other cheek.

“I’m just running out to get something for you. I’ll be right back, right back, I promise.”

Jamie nodded, relaxing slightly.

“One more sip for me, okay?”

Dani took her hands off Jamie’s face, shifting one to her shoulder and the other to the bottom of Jamie’s glass, gently lifting it up. But she let Jamie control the angle, not wanting to force feed her. Jamie again took a very small sip.

“Good, Jay. Good job.”

She knew it sounded patronizing. But she also knew from experience that it was the right thing to say in this situation. And she also knew Jamie.

Sure enough, the corners of her mouth turned up as she laughed at the ostensibly pathetic praise. It was a brief sound, more like a cough, but it was something. Dani smiled as she leaned in to kiss her forehead.

“Right back, I promise.”

*****

“I’m such an idiot.”

She heard Dani breathe in to object, but she kept going.

“Didn’t eat enough yesterday, and this - ”

“Jamie - ”

“Never even occurred to me.”

She looked down at the pack of gum she was fiddling with. Two sticks in and she was already feeling loads better: much less nauseous, much less lightheaded, and the shaking was fading. Years of struggling with this, and she’d never thought to try something she didn’t have to eat or drink to take the edge off.

She looked over at Dani, who was sitting next to her against the counter with her legs out in front of her. Dani was rubbing her knee as she sat cross-legged. It was past 9 now, but Dani wouldn’t hear of leaving her. She was insistent, in fact, they not open before noon at the earliest, knowing Jamie would need hours still to recover and eat. She had a breakfast sandwich — just egg on a plain bagel — ready to go when she felt up to it. And then they would move on to lunch.

Jamie was, as always, in awe of her. To go from having no one to take care of her, to having Dani was quite jarring sometimes — in the best possible way, of course. But this time, Dani had truly outdone herself — knowing Jamie had a condition that she herself hadn’t even known she had.

Granted, Jamie could probably count on one hand the number of doctors she’d seen in her life. It was Dani, in fact, who’d just booked her appointments with a GP and a dentist. She saw Dani smile now as she met her gaze. Dani hadn’t taken her eyes off her once since she’d gotten back.

“So... ”

“Taylor.”

Jamie cocked her head. Dani laughed.

“No, no, not you. I had a student named Taylor. She has it, too. What you have.”

“Hypo... ”

Dani nodded.

“-Glycemia. Just a fancy word for low blood sugar.”

Jamie nodded, processing.

“Low blood sugar... so is that... is that like... ”

Dani gave her an encouraging smile.

“Diabetes?”

Dani took a moment before answering. She didn’t want to hold anything back, but she didn’t want to scare her.

“It can be. It’s a symptom of it.”

Jamie nodded. Dani felt her shaking start to worsen again, just slightly.

“And Taylor... is that... ”

“That’s what she has, yes. But - ” Jamie’s eyes widened. Dani squeezed her knee. “But Taylor has Type 1.”

Jamie nodded again but was still shaking.

“And Type 1, that’s... ”

Jamie had vaguely heard people talk about a Type 1 and Type 2 before, but she’d never been sure what that actually meant.

“Oh, sorry, I - I should’ve... It just means you would know by now... if you had it. It starts affecting you when you’re a kid.”

Dani saw Jamie’s eyes widen once more and realized, kicking herself, that Jamie probably had had blood sugar issues since childhood. She took her hand off Jamie’s knee and cupped her face again.

“No, no, sorry! I’m explaining this poorly.” She sighed. “Type 1 is very serious. That’s why I knew about Taylor, in case something happened at school... If you’d gone undiagnosed this long, you... you wouldn’t... ”

“Oh... ” Jamie looked back down at the gum pack again. “And Type 2?”

Dani put her hand back on Jamie’s knee and resumed rubbing it.

“Well, that usually affects older people.” Even with Jamie looking down, Dani saw her eyes starting to go wide yet again. “Like old people, I mean... And given those abs of yours... ” Dani grinned as she saw Jamie smile shyly and blush furiously, just as she’d intended. “I’d say it’s pretty unlikely you have it... Probably just hypoglycemia, in your case, which is much easier to manage on its own.”

She saw Jamie nod but could feel she was still tense, though her shaking was dying down again.

“And I’d say you’ve been doing pretty well so far.”

Jamie looked over at her, arching an eyebrow.

“No, seriously! That’s - that’s why you stick to protein for breakfast... isn’t it? And eat first thing?”

Over the past several months, Dani had noticed that while she would usually opt for just a coffee and some toast or a pastry, Jamie would always eat a full meal almost immediately after she woke up. In fact, when they’d been on the road, she’d gone for takeout quite early every morning. Dani had just assumed she’d been doing it as gesture — which she still probably had been, but it was making even more sense now.

And she almost never had cereal or juice and would only have a donut or a muffin or a pancake if she had eggs to go with it. And most of the time, it was just eggs — and tea, of course — and maybe some of Dani’s toast. Dani had noticed she was also careful not to have too much sugar at night or, in general, really; and tried to eat regularly throughout the day. Dani had just assumed Jamie ate that way to be healthy. But now it seemed that it was more than that.

Jamie lowered her eyebrow and looked down again. She’d never really thought of it that way. She’d just discovered at a fairly young age, having had to take care of herself, that if she didn’t eat that way, she would feel shitty for the rest of the day or the next morning.

So, naturally, a lot of the time, she had felt shitty, given that it was pretty hard to plan meals when you didn’t always know where your next meal was coming from. But it had never actually occurred to her that she might have a medical condition.

She felt Dani squeeze her knee again.

“We can talk to the doctor about it next week, okay? See what she says.”

Jamie looked over at Dani, her lips curving into that crooked grin. The moment Dani had started looking into local doctors for them in Vermont she’d preemptively assured her that she would go to any and all of her appointments with her, if that was what Jamie wanted.

She rested her head on Dani’s shoulder now, looped her arm through Dani’s and placed her hand on Dani’s, rubbing it as Dani continued to rub her knee.

With her other hand, Dani reached up behind her to the counter, feeling around blindly until she landed on tinfoil. A second later, she was unwrapping the breakfast sandwich in her lap.

“You ready?”

She felt Jamie nod, so she put her hand out in front of Jamie’s mouth.

“Dani?!”

Dani laughed.

“It’s fine.”

“No, I have the wrapper here somewhere.”

She felt Jamie sit up. Smiling and rolling her eyes, Dani ripped off part of the foil and put her hand back up. She felt Jamie pause, then after a moment more of hesitation, spit out her gum.

“Thank you.” Dani quipped, as she squeezed the foil around it, then let it drop to the floor.

She picked up half the sandwich, as she felt Jamie lay her head back down, and brought it to her. Jamie went to take a bite, but then suddenly sat up again and turned to her.

“Wait, have you eaten?”

Dani felt her heart melt.

“Yes, before I left the apartment.”

“Oh, right, right.”

Jamie looked down and laughed awkwardly. Dani leaned in and kissed her temple. Jamie laughed again and looked up, smiling shyly, then leaned her head back down for a third time. Dani brought the sandwich to her once more. She took a bite, and Dani was relieved to feel her actually chew and swallow it.

“Thank you.”

Dani kissed the top of her head.

“Just promise me next time you’ll let me know, okay? And if I’m not there, you call me, right away.”

She felt Jamie nod, then take another bite, chew and swallow.

“Can you just be my doctor?”

Dani laughed, putting the sandwich down and grabbing the oj glass.

“You’ll like Dr. Ryan. She’s nice.”

She brought the glass up, and Jamie took a sip.

“Won’t be as hot as you, though... ”

Dani laughed even harder, putting the glass back down and picking up the sandwich again. Jamie was definitely reviving, but she wasn’t back in full Jamie mode... yet.

“I don’t know... ”

“Oi!” Jamie sat up and turned to her, trying and failing to keep a straight face. “There somethin’ I should know about, Poppins?”

Dani giggled.

“I didn’t say she was hotter than you, did I?”

Jamie cleared her throat dramatically.

“S’pose not.”

She laid her head back on Dani’s shoulder.

“Maybe you’re the one who should be worried, then.”

“Maybe you’re the one who doesn’t need this sandwich, then.”

Jamie laughed as Dani brought it toward her own mouth. She reached over with her free hand to grab it, then shifted over to sit in Dani’s lap, as Dani slid the foil containing the other half of the sandwich onto the floor. Jamie leaned back against her and sighed contentedly as she felt Dani wrap her arms around her stomach.

“Take another bite, Jay.”

Jamie cleared her throat.

“Right.”

#dani x jamie #jamie x dani #damie fanfic #damie fic #bly manor fanfic #bly manor fic #thobm fic #thobm fanfic #the haunting of bly manor #bly manor #dani clayton #jamie clayton #dani bly manor #jamie bly manor #jamie the haunting of bly manor #jamie taylor #jamie the gardener #thobm dani #dani thobm #thobm jamie #jamie thobm #wlw fanfic #wlw fic #f/f fanfic #f/f fic #lgbtq representation

[cj-can-art]

Pancakes

Moceit Appreciation Week Day 1

Prompt: Baking

TW: food

Summary: Patton tries to make pancakes. Janus tries to help. It doesn’t go well.

Read on AO3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Patton was not the best at baking. Or anything involving making food, for that matter. But it never stopped him from trying.

“Alright next up is two eggs…” Patton read from the cookbook. He took two eggs from the fridge and cracked them. Perfect! He turned back to the bowl where he was stirring the ingredie—wait. He looked back at the cookbook and groaned. He had cracked the egg on top of the recipe page. Not to mention the crushed eggshell that had snuck its way into the egg white. “Well, I can just slide it off…”

“Mornin’.” Virgil’s rough voice startled Patton, causing him to drop the half cup of milk he was carrying. It splashed up as it hit the floor, staining his khaki pants and blue fluffy socks. “Oh, gosh, I’m so sorry!” Virgil rushed over, frantic apologies pouring from his mouth as he grabbed the roll of paper towels on the kitchen counter.

“No, it’s okay, kiddo!” Patton reassured the anxious Side. “You didn’t mean to startle me.”

“Right, sorry,” Virgil bit his lip as he crouched down with the paper towels to clean up the milk on the floor. “I should probably stop saying ‘sorry’ before it doesn’t sound like a word anymore.”

Patton laughed and went to pour another half cup of milk. He had just picked up the carton when an ear-splitting screech rang throughout the entire Mindscape. This caused him to drop the whole thing entirely, soaking the rest of his pants as well as Virgil’s face.

The Sides’ heads turned as a giggling Remus ran through the living room, diving behind the coffee table.

“GET BACK HERE, YOU LITTLE TRASH GREMLIN!” Roman’s annoyed voice could be heard before they saw him. When they did, it took all of Virgil’s will to not laugh. The prince was covered in honey and feathers. Okay, maybe he did laugh.

The two Sides in the kitchen watched as the twins chased each other in circles around the coffee table.

“You can’t catch meeeee!” Remus taunted.

“I WILL TURN YOU INTO A LIZARD.”

“That would be a pain in the ass!”

“YOU’RE A PAIN IN THE ASS!”

Patton giggled a little before turning back to Virgil. He gasped upon seeing the emo’s milk-covered hair and face.

“Oh! Sorry about the milk, Virge!” Now it was Patton’s turn to worry.

“You’re fine.” Virgil chuckled. “Guess we’re even.”

“I guess.” Patton shrugged playfully. “Hey, where’s Logan? Or Janus?”

“Logan’s working on Thomas’s schedule, and I don’t know about Deceit.” Virgil paused. “Why do you want to know?”

“Oh, no reason.” Patton laughed nervously. Virgil looked Patton up and down before slowly exhaling.

“Okay.” He tossed the soggy paper towels into the trash can. He pointed to the twins, who were still bickering and chasing each other around the coffee table. “I’m gonna get these two to the Imagination before they break anything. See ya later, Padre.”

“Bye, kiddo!” Patton waved as Virgil ran to the living room, tackling the twins and sinking out with them.

Finally. Some quiet. More time to prepare for today.

The quiet scene was then interrupted by a distressed Janus stumbling down the stairs. His hat was askew, his hair was untamed, and he hadn’t even bothered to take off his pajamas. Five of his arms hung at his sides, one arm propping himself against the railing.

Odd.

“Hey, Jan!” Patton waved. “You alright?”

“Yes.” Janus sighed, sarcasm in his voice. “I heard screaming, what happened?”

“Just the twins, but Virgil took care of it. Here, let me just…” Patton walked to the snake hybrid and straightened his hat. “There.”

“Thanks,” Janus smiled warmly. He glanced towards the disaster that was the kitchen. “What happened there?”

“Oh, nothing. Just making pancakes.”

Janus hummed. “No offense, but you’ve never made pancakes before, amica mea.”

“Well, I don’t know what that last part means, but it’s never too late to try new things!” Patton giggled. The human half of Janus’s face flushed a faint pink.

“Ah, well,” Janus began. “I suppose you’re right. Mind if I lend a hand?” Janus extended three of his arms. “Or six?”

Patton beamed, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “You made a dad joke!” He squealed, hands flapping at his sides.

Janus chuckled. “Yes, yes, go shout it to the masses, why don’t we.”

“Everything’s in the kitchen. I’ve already got a bit of a head start on you.” Patton smirked, walking back over to the counter. Janus followed, stopping over the cookbook.

“Patton, are you sure you’re doing this correctly?”

“Kinda.” Patton shrugged, opening the cupboard to get the flour.

“It says you need one tablespoon of sugar.” Janus said, glancing at the mixing bowl. “And you added almost two cups.”

“You can never have too much sugar!” Patton grinned.

“Well, yes, you actually can.”

Patton shrugged, grabbing the large bag of and lifting it out of the cupboard. He set it down on the edge of the counter, since the rest of it was taken up by other various ingredients. “How much does it call for again?”

“Two cups, although we should probably add more to balance out the sugar.” Janus guessed. “Probably more of everything else, if I’m being, ha, honest.”

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.” Patton smiled nervously. He reached over to the sink to grab the cup measurement. His elbow bumped against the bag of flour, causing it to tip over dangerously.

“Patton, the flour!” Janus warned. Patton yelped, reaching out to grab it. Unfortunately, he forgot about the weight of the bag, and everything from then seemed to move in slow motion. As the bag landed in Patton’s arms, he fell forward due to the weight. He tried to lift the bag up to the counter before he hit the ground, but ended up using too much strength and sent the bag flying up into the air. Flour poured from the bag as it spun a few times, then landed back onto the ground with a thud and a final big puff of flour.

Patton stood up in shock, eyes wide. He took the flour-covered glasses off his face and wiped them with a dishrag. That, however, did not help as the dishrag was also covered in flour. He settled for using the inside of his sleeve, which did work.

Patton glanced over at Janus, and gasped. The Side was covered in flour. There was flour on his shoes, his cape, his scales, his hat, everywhere.

Janus’s lips twitched for a moment before his face broke into a smile. He covered his mouth with a gloved hand as the both of them started to giggle uncontrollably.

“This… this is…” Patton wheezed, “This is terrible!”

“I’m glad you didn’t ask me to do it.” Janus laughed. “I can’t cook to save my life!”

The two stood in the kitchen for the next five minutes clutching their sides and laughing like there was no tomorrow.

Janus managed to compose himself enough to form words coherently.

“Cereal for breakfast?” He asked, wiping tears from his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah.” Patton nodded. “That sounds good.”

@moceit-appreciation-week

#moceit #moceit appreciation week 2021 #food #fic #fluff oneshot

[anika-ann]

Errare Humanum Est - Epilogue

The Dakrness and the Light

Type: series, soulmate AU series  (part 1, part 2)  x Supernatural

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader   Word count: 3530

Summary: There are loose ends to tie; with Sam and Dean... and other friends. You really thought the times for rendering you speechless were gone. 

You were wrong.

Warnings: swearing, brief angst, guilt trips, brief talk on religion, fluff

Story masterlist

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

True to your words, you decided to ask the experts on weird people appearing out of nowhere and shooting light from their hands about the strange experience you had; an encounter that resulted in you gaining your memories back.

Sam and Dean were ecstatic when you told them about remembering everything – including the time you had spent with them though, one set of memories not replacing the other.

After enough cheering via your Skype call, you sent the footage.

The silence stretched as the brothers watched the recording, their eyes wide with an emotion you couldn’t quite place. They seemed spooked, shocked, perplexed and quite a bit fascinated too, to be honest. Steve’s arm around your waist tightened, both of you holding your breath in anticipation.

Oh God, who was the woman? Was she a friend of Rowena? Worse, was she a friend of the King of Hell they had mentioned? Who-

“Holy shit,” Sam finally exclaimed, making you blink in shock. Since when Sam swore? Admittedly, you hadn’t spent that much time with them, but-?

“Quite literally,” Dean conceded, squinting at the screen again as if he couldn’t believe his eyes. You were sure you were about to burst – or at least that your heart would beat its way out of your chest with how forcefully it was hammering against your ribcage. “I thought they went under? Or, you know, up?”

“So did I.”

“Guys? We’re not following. You know who or what this was?” you asked them breathlessly, unable to bear the suspense anymore.

Sam cleared his throat and apparently closed the video, because they were following you with their gaze again.

“Uhm yeah. That was God’s sister who paid you a visit.”

Your heart positively stopped for a second-- and then you laughed self-depreciatingly. Don’t be stupid, hey don’t mean that literally.

…they couldn’t, right?

“…is that a euphemism for something?”

“Nope,” Dean accented the ‘P’ and shrugged for a good measure, knocking the air out of your lungs. And of Steve’s, probably freezing his brain along the way, because his figure went absolutely rigid behind you.

“God’s sister?” Steve parroted and you were sure he wasn’t even breathing at that point.

“Yeah. Her name’s Amara. I’m pretty sure she had a crush on Dean,” Sam explained casually as if it wasn’t a big deal.

God.

And God’s sister-

--wait, what? A crush? Huh?

“Dude. Come on!” Dean called out exasperatedly, hint of red pulsing in his cheeks.

“Like… the actual God’s sister? God, the religion figure… and his sister?”

“Yeah. Amara. The Darkness. God’s sister, whatever. We helped them to solve their family issues a while back,” Dean confirmed, a smug smile tugging at his lips at your disbelief.  

“I beg your pardon?” Steve blurted out, as if reading your frantic thoughts.

It was a lot to chew to begin with, but did Dean really just call her The Darkness? Why weren’t they freaked out by that?!

Sam sighed. “It’s complicated. Look, she also brought our mum back from death, but from what we know now, from what she said to you, it looks like Chuck brought you back and Amara thought you should also have your memories. Don’t worry about it, we’re used to this kind of crazy.”

It took you several moments of the wheels in your head turning before you connected the dots and actually registered what he was saying.

Wait, whoa, whoa, whoa, that would mean that Chuck was… the brother. Which made him… which made him-

“God’s name is Chuck?” you choked out at the same time as Steve questioned a different exclaim of Sam’s: “Don’t worry about it?”

“Yeah. Chill. Be grateful,” Dean shrugged it off as if he didn’t notice your confusion and struggle to comprehend why on Earth God would bring you back from the death and his sister (the hell-- heaven?) stopped by to return your memories on top of that.

“Hey, are you okay? You look a little pale there,” Dean hummed, eyebrows furrowing in actual concern.

Yeah, no shit. I’d like to see your face if you found out that you were saved by—oh, wait, you actually might have…

“It’s… that’s a lot to chew.”

“Come on, you already knew you rose from the dead, this can’t be-“

Sam covered his brother’s mouth with a hand, annoyed look on his face before he smiled at you compassionately. “We know. But we’re serious. There’s nothing we can do about that, just enjoy what you were given. You both have your soulmate back. Be happy.”

“Though I gotta say, my heart is broken. I was holding out for you,” Dean teased you, having wrestled free from Sam’s grasp.

“Dean!”

To be fair, Steve didn’t even flinch at such suggestion, knowing Dean’s flirty nature already, and you were pretty sure he even rolled his eyes.

“Kidding. Call us if you need help, okay?”

“Can I call to just check up on you?” you pried carefully, unable to help the warm smile slowly spreading on your lips as they slapped their hands over the other’s, Sam’s trying to shut his menacing brother up.

They stopped at instant.

“Uhm… yeah?” Dean hummed, clearly surprised, while the younger brother charmed a sweet smile.

“Good. Be careful, guys. I mean it. Let an angel watch over you. And look after him too. Send him my best wishes.”

“We will. We’ll see you, Fire Princess,” Dean winked at you and you huffed. Jerk.

“I hate you,” you murmured, waved at Sam and shut the laptop close, shaking your head.

Steve’s lips found the crook on your neck, nuzzling his face there then.

“Do you understand any of the things they said?” you slightly shifted, your lips catching his halo-like hair, your back leaning onto his chest.

“Nope.”

“And you don’t care,” you stated when he kissed your skin again

“Nope,” he confirmed cheerily, pulling your back to make you lie down on the bed. You complied, ending up on your side, spooned by his warm muscular form. “Besides wanting to know what Fire Princess means, I’m just happy to have you back, doll. You’re all that matters.”

“Steve…”

You heart fluttered in your chest, chasing heat to your cheeks at his sweettalking.

“I mean it. I’m not letting go of you, ever. If I have to lay down my shield, I don’t care. As long as I have you… I have everything I need.”

“Steve, I…” he eased his hold a bit when you squeezed his hand, allowing you to turn and face him. His eyes burned with sincerity, the way you remembered they always did when trying to convince you about something you found hard to believe – usually concerning his feelings. “I… I don’t-“

“I love you. And I mean it. Just say the word.”

“But I… I can’t be enough, Steve. That’s-“ you protested, your head spinning at the thought.

He couldn’t be serious. Could he? Steve had a heart of gold and fighting for the good cause in his blood. He couldn’t stop. Or maybe he could, but at what cost? How long it would take him to realize what a mistake he had made? And what if he blamed you then? Worse, what if someone on the team would get hurt in his absence and he would blame you for that?

Rationally, you knew the last scenario was of zero probability, because Steve would definitely hold himself responsible, no one else, but that only proved your-

His thumb tenderly traced the shape of your lips, eyes seemingly bluer than usual, as if he forced them to change their colour just to look more genuine and innocent, unable to lie.  

“You are. I spent weeks thinking-- thinking that I lost you – because of what I did, no less – and nothing mattered anymore, not really.”

“You love your job,” you stated slowly, incredulous that he was actually considering it. You tried hard to push the rise of hope and annoyingly adoring feelings towards him that bloomed in your chest.

He couldn’t do that, stop that, you bitch, he was not just yours- it wouldn’t be your choice to make-- but that was just wrong--- what if he got fed up with you-

“I loved my job – mostly because it was the only thing familiar in this century. The job was my life. And look where it got me.”

“Face to face with me, resurrected?” you teased with an awkward attempt at smile, unsure of what to make of this conversation and the mess of feelings it stirred within you. Steve only raised one corner of his lips at your silly joke. “No, seriously. I love you too. I love you and that’s why I can’t let you quit, not for me. You’re Steve Rogers. You’re Captain America. It’s like giving up your half.”

“I’ve done that once,” he muttered darkly, looking away. “And you took the other half with you.”

Tears pricked in the corners of your eyes at the reminder of why he might in fact could be able to give up on his job; because of the terrible sorrow it had brought him when making the impossible decision in his title’s favour.

You weren’t naïve, not that much at least. You both knew that that particular situation would have never happened if he was doing literally anything else for living.

You sighed, cupping his cheek and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Okay. We’ll think about it and talk about it later, alright? Now I just want to kiss you and cuddle you for eternity.”

His lips curled up in a brilliant smile that always made you smile back automatically, making your whole body pliant and feather-light.

“That is the best plan ever, darling,” he praised, planting a kiss to your forehead, indeed snuggling closer, leading your head to hide under his chin. Gosh, you loved when he did that, engulfing you, protecting you from the whole world.

“Thanks, Mr. Rogers.”

“No. Thank you. Thank you for coming back to me.”

You smiled against his throat, kissing his Adam’s apple. “We’ve been over this, I didn’t exactly-“

Hand still in your hair, he guided you from your favourite spot with light pull, only so he could shut you up with a kiss.

You sure as hell didn’t resist and lazily returned the affection, content to stay in that moment forever.

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In real life, moments like that didn’t last forever. Sooner or later, duties and decisions came knocking.

Decisions were hard, especially when coming back from the dead and having to choose if you should keep it secret or not for instance and oh so many more things that needed to be dealt with; which was exactly the reason why you had been avoiding it, but that couldn’t go on for much longer.

For the moment, you decided there weren’t many people to confide in, but there were still some that deserved it.

A priest of the church where your own little altar was placed was one of them, mostly because of the meeting you wanted to hold there. Then again, officially it had been Steve who invited Ryan to a safe place with little information on the reason behind such action.

Steve had warned you he hadn’t spoken to him since before your death, but it could never prepare you for the cold welcome he had got when they came face to face, while you were hiding in the shadows.

“Captain Rogers,” Ryan greeted him stiffly, voice even and sharp enough to cut deeply and precisely with that particular addressing. You and Steve had talked; you knew he had troubles coming to terms with the title after he had lost you despite burying himself in his work and making it look like it was the exact opposite.

“Ryan. Thank you for coming.”

“Why am I here? What do you want?”

Was it just you or did Ryan sound really annoyed as if he couldn’t leave this encounter soon enough? What happened to him?

“I needed to talk to you about something important,” Steve replied softly despite your best friend’s attitude.

Ryan scoffed, crossing his arms on his chest. He was a bit thinner than you remembered, but that might only be the outfit he was wearing; the sweater looked a size too big for him to begin with.

“I have nothing to talk about with you, Steve. Frankly, you being here in this very church is like a sick joke. You weren’t here when it counted. What held you? Work, I imagine?”

Even you winced at the cruel words. This didn’t sound like the man you were best friends with. Was he truly so angry with Steve? Or was it because his heart was still heavy with grief? You didn’t know whether to be touched, angry back or just sad.

And what did Ryan mean by Steve not being here when it mattered?

“It wasn’t like that-” Steve tried to explain and for the first time, his voice cracked, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Imagine that. All of them were here. All of the freaking Avengers came to her funeral-“

Oh. Oh. You had no idea what to make of that. Steve had kinda forgotten to mention that fact to you. You should have figured; he did warn you they hadn’t spoken since before your death. Shit.

Unlike Ryan, you knew it wasn’t the lack of sorrow that had held Steve back from coming – even without him telling you so, it was clear as day to you.

“-even the one from another planet. But you? Her soulmate? Gosh, Steve… what’s your excuse?”

The question was clearly meant to sting and one single glance at Steve told you that it did precisely that; his eyelids fallen shut, his hands balling into fists.

“Do you really need to ask?” Steve chuckled bitterly, forcing himself to relax his hands. You more heard the tears in his voice than saw them from your spot behind the pillar and your heart ached. “How could I show up, Ryan? After what I did? How could I look into your eyes, to her parents’ eyes? I killed her, Ryan. Don’t you think for a second that I don’t feel guilty or regret it every single day. What I did, why I… I-”

“You don’t need to explain yourself, Steve. I understand why you made the choice you did…” Ryan interrupted him with a sigh and a sideway look, almost as if in conciliatory manner. “But that doesn’t mean I hate you any less for it. Or that I don’t blame you for her death. Because I do. It was your fault.”

Ouch.

“I know. And I understand. You have every right.”

Well, this was going splendidly. Another guilt trip for Steve and hostility from your friend. Just peachy. You seriously considered just walking in regardless Steve’s plea for you to wait for his signal.

“And yet I’m grateful for the weeks you spent together. You made her happiest I have ever seen her. It’s funny how I can hate you for it at the same time,” Ryan added then, his eyes turning compassionate and kind, only a shadow of sorrow remaining.

“Life is that way sometimes. But… I didn’t come here to ask forgiveness, Ryan.”

“Good, ‘cause you’re not getting any. Why are we here then?”

Now this sounded more like Ryan. The corner of your lips rose in a tinniest smile.

“Because she always said you were her platonic soulmate. She trusted you with everything. And you deserve to know.”

“Deserve to know what?”

“That miracles happen,” Steve said simply, not making any sense to the other man. Drama queen. Then again, God had probably saved you, so he wasn’t exaggerating.

“What’s that supposed to mean? Is that why we met in a church? Some weird symbolism to… to what?” Ryan sputtered, getting impatient. You almost walked out right then. But you trusted Steve to prepare your friend better for the shock now.

“No. We met here because I believed it was a safe place and you wouldn’t have come to the Tower.”

“Safe place?” Ryan asked warily, eyeing his surroundings suspiciously, his gaze shifting to your soulmate again. “For what?”

You cleared your throat, deciding this was the moment and stepped out. Ryan’s eyes bulged, his face drained of all colour.

“Hello, Ryan. Long time, no see,” you offered a teary smile and he blinked, your name falling from his lips breathlessly and with thousands of questions unspoken.

His gaze flickered to Steve, who smiled at him tightly, gently beckoning to you, encouraging him.

Ryan took several shaky steps and you stopped, letting him cross the distance in his own pace, getting him a chance to back away when feeling like it. On the inside, you wanted to run to him and let the man engulf you in a hug and never let go, but you realized what kind of a shock it must have been.

Hell, you were still coming to terms with it.

“Baby?” he whispered, voice trembling and breaking on the single word. You didn’t bother blinking away your tears, only nodding.

At that, Ryan erased the distance in two long strides, throwing his arms around your neck and sobbing right in your ear. His breath hitched when you hugged him back; as if he had been expecting this was only a trick.

It wasn’t.

“Hey, Ry-Ry,” you rasped, your sob nearly in sync with his, which was ridiculous.

He withdrew then, framing your face with his palms, his eyes travelling all over you.

“I saw you die,” he choked out, incredulous, awed.

“Yeah, lots of people did,” you agreed, covering one of his hands with yours. “It’s a long story.”

His blown-up irises widened further. “Was that… some kind of a cover-up? Did you- how could you not tell-?!”

“It wasn’t a cover-up!” you hurried, shaking your head as his arms fell from you. ”I died, Ry-Ry. I told you it’s a long story.”

“I have time,” he mused, still starring at you, measuring you from head to toe, perplexed and teary.

“Then maybe you should sit down. Before what I tell you knocks you flat on your ass.”

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

A smile was tugging at Steve’s lips at their interaction. Ryan was amazed, naturally, and Steve could relate; having her back was everything. He hadn’t been lying to her when he had told her he would lay down his shield if she asked him to. He would do anything only if it meant she would meet his gaze like at that exact moment, tears and laughter in her eyes, her lips spreading in that beautiful smile that tugged on his heartstrings.

“Steven,” the priest appeared at his side, voice low so he wouldn’t disturb the reunion. “Why don’t you join me in the back? Let the two friends catch up?”

Steve could stay right there, watching you explain the insane story, but perhaps he shouldn’t. Your best friend deserved your undivided attention and Steve would be happy to let you do so. God knew that while you were bickering and joking with the rest of his team and friends – now your friends too, no doubt – you weren’t beaming as much as you were at the moment. You needed your own time with Ryan.

“I… I suppose I should. Thank you, Father, for allowing this,” Steve expressed his gratitude, only for the other man to nod and give him a kind smile.

“Well, your friend had a point about symbolism here. Miracles do happen.... Speaking of those. I have someone who I would like you to meet.”

Steve blinked in surprise, but followed Father Lantom, trustful.  “…alright. What is it, Father?”

“It might come as a shock,” the priest warned him as he stopped in front of the door Steve was familiar with; Father had invited him over for coffee before, but Steve always refused, not wanting to abuse his hospitality.

“My soulmate came back from the dead, Father. I doubt anything can shock me at this point.”

The older-looking man chuckled, his hand laid on the handle. “I’m tempted to make a bet, but I must maintain the façade of an honourable man.”

“Father Lantom… what are you talking about?” Steve gulped, something icy creeping up his spine, his heart speeding up in anticipation.

Surely, the man wouldn’t do anything to hurt Steve. The idea was ridiculous. So why was Steve so nervous all of sudden?

“James? May we enter?”

There was no answer and if there was, Steve couldn’t hear it over the pounding in his ears. A crazy idea, old hope that he could never allow himself to feed because people who died stayed dead, even in this insane world, rising in his chest and suffocating him.

James?

Miracles?

The door opened with a creak and Steve only needed a glimpse to freeze in the doorway, his heart stopping, brain short-circuiting. The world swayed of its place and there was a crushing weight on his chest, crushing and vertigo-inducing at the same time, frantic memories of a friendship that should have lasted until the end of the line flashing in his mind, an agonizing memory of watching the fall, completely helpless.

Steve didn’t know how, but the name left his lips without him remembering forming the simple word; a word that felt like a prayer.

“…Bucky?”

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

Bonus chapter ;)

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

I know, I know! A cliffhanger. But it’s a nice one, right? A little hopeful, a little teasing your imagination; think about it like a post-credit scene ;) 

I can promise a bonus and a short multichapter fic ending this whole soulmate series.

Thank you for reading and your support, every comment means the world to me :-*

#fanfiction #supernatural #marvel #steve rogers x reader #soulmate au #steve rogers x you #steve rogers soulmate au #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers soulmate #steve rogers #captain america #captain america x reader #captain america imagine #captain america soulmate au #captain america soulmate #dean winchester #sam winchester #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #team free will #castiel #spn x mcu #mcu x spn #mcu #avengers #supernatural au #errare humanum est #anika ann

[hold-me-sickfics]

The Independent Jungkookie

Hi guys! This is my first post since being back. I’m sorta rusty, but I hope you guys like it!

TW: emeto/ slight fear of vomiting/ slight fear of being alone when sick

Word Count: 1343

_______________________________

“Breathe Jungkookie. You’re okay. I’ve got you.” Jimin rubbed the maknae’s back as he retched into the toilet bowl once again. The lights were turned down low so they wouldn’t hurt the boy’s eyes.

“Hyung- “he gagged, “m’ not a baby.” Jungkook was the youngest of the group, which often led to him being treated like a toddler when he got sick. Though he claimed not to like it, the rest of the members knew he needed it.

“You’re right Kook. Sorry.” Jimin smiled half-apologetically.

Jungkook retched again, then leaned into Jimin’s chest.

“Here’s your Sprite bud.” Yoongi came in holding a glass of Sprite with crushed ice (not cubed. Jungkook hated it cubed.)

“Thanks.” Jungkook reached his trembling hands out to take the glass. Yoongi got down on his knees and gave it to him.

Jungkook took a tiny sip, and then gagged, turning back to the bowl.

Suddenly, the door creaked open.

“Hey Yoongs,” Hoseok spoke in a low tone so he wouldn’t startle the maknae.

“What’s up?” Yoongi stood back up, and joined Hoseok out in the hallway. He closed the door behind them.

“Does he have a fever yet? Jin wants to know. Namjoon has volunteered to go get the liquid fever reducer since Jungkook won’t take pills.”

“I’ll have to check. Do we have the scanning thermometer? Jimin said he gagged every time he saw the one that goes in his mouth.”

“Um…” Hoseok thought for a moment. “Maybe? Hang on, I’ll go look.” Hoseok turned to leave, and Taehyung showed up right behind them.

“Hey, how’s he doing?”

“Hasn’t thrown up yet, but he’s awful nauseous.” Yoongi answered as he checked his phone. It was 3:25 a.m. Jungkook had woken up at 1:57 a.m.

“I washed the blanket he likes. Jin is setting up the living room so we can all sleep in there.” They all knew that Jungkook couldn’t sleep alone when he felt sick.

“Yoongi!” Jimin called from inside.

“Coming!” Yoongi opened the door to Jungkook finally throwing up. The poor maknae was in tears.

“Yoongi I feel bad.” The youngest rasped.

“I know bud. It’s alright.”

Jimin, who was still on Jungkook’s right side, was now holding him around his back, while Jungkook kept both arms around his churning midsection.

Jungkook’s back tensed as he puked up the remnants of dinner, and Yoongi wiped his face with a cool cloth. 

“Hyung, I’m the youngest but I can take care of myself.” Jungkook was still trying to act all tough, but the other members had just learned to let him talk like he was independent, and then treat him like the sick little boy he was.

“I know you can Jungkook.”

Yoongi and Jimin shared a look of sympathy for the little guy, but also a slight smile at how cute the maknae was when he was trying to be tough.

“Do you think you’re done?” Yoongi leaned down a bit to meet Jungkook’s eye level.

He shook his head, then retched.

“Hey I got the thermometer.” Hoseok stood in the doorway, holding the thermometer out to Yoongi. He would have loved to help the maknae too, but he was too much of a sympathy puker. Even with just coming into the bathroom, the smell was close to setting him off.

“Thanks, Hobi. Okay Kookie, I’m just gonna scan you real quick.” Yoongi pressed the button on the thermometer and pointed it at the maknae’s forehead.

The device beeped pretty quickly.

“What’s it say?” Jimin asked.

“100.8. He’s definitely got a virus of some sort.”

Jungkook whimpered pitifully. The poor thing was sweating through his t-shirt, and yet he shivered hard enough that it was difficult for him to sit up on his own.

Yoongi looked up at Hoseok who was turning green in the doorway.

“Might wanna tell Namjoon to go get that medicine. And popsicles.”

Hoseok turned to leave.

“Hyung, I don’t need popsicles to get over a virus.” Jungkook’s eyes watered.

They all stayed silent for a moment.

“What flavor do you want buddy?” Hoseok, like the others, saw through the façade.

“Grape please.” Jungkook whispered.

“You got it.” Hoseok closed the door.

“Think you’re finished now Kookie?” Jimin rubbed the youngest’ arm with his thumb.

“Yeah. For now anyways.” The poor boy was shuddering from exertion and chills.

“Let’s get you in the living room then.” Jungkook nodded, and let the other two boys help him up. Once they got him on his feet, Yoongi flushed the toilet so Jungkook wouldn’t have to see its contents.

Slowly, they helped him to the living room, and set him down on the couch. Taehyung had taken extra care to make sure Jungkook’s Overwatch fleece blanket came out of the dryer right when he entered the room.

“How ya feeling Kookie?” Taehyung asked as he tucked the youngest in the warm blanket.

“My stomach hurts.” His eyes started to water once again.

“Well, luckily for you, I have something for that.” Jin came over with a heating pad which was wrapped in a thin towel. He plugged it in, and flipped the on/off switch. 

Thankfully, the store wasn’t far from their apartment. 

“Namjoon is on his way back with the medicine and popsicles. Think you could drink a little tea for me?”

“I’m just gonna throw it back up.”

“We can hope you don’t. Hoseok?” Jin called.

“On my way.” The pitcher rattled with the crushed ice inside. Hoseok brought a glass of it into the living room and handed it to Jin.

Jungkook’s arms were already tucked into the blanket.

“Hey Hobi, grab me a straw real quick. A blue one if you’ve got it.”

Hoseok brought a blue straw just as he’d been asked to.

“Here you go Kookie. Lean up a little.”

Jungkook had been laying in Jimin’s lap, so Jimin cupped his head in his hand and helped him to lean up. Jin slipped the straw between his lips.

Jungkook took a drink, and then turned away.

“M’ done.”

Just then, Namjoon came in with a shopping bag.

“Alright JK, I got grape popsicles, orange-flavored fever reducer, and a pair of those fluffy socks you like since your feet get really cold when you feel sick.”

“Thanks, Hyungie.” Jungkook smiled a bit, though he was still shivering.

“Okay bud, can you drink this for me?” Jin poured 10mL of the fever reducer into a small measuring cup.

“I don’t want to…” Jungkook took a whiff of the orange liquid and retched.

“I know. Just try to breathe alright?”

Jungkook nodded, wide-eyes fearful.

A couple minutes passed, and Jungkook still couldn’t take the medicine.

“Okay bud. I’m gonna help you.”

Jungkook turned around to see Yoongi with a shot of pickle juice.

“You know how much I hate this stuff right?” Yoongi swirled the liquid around, mentally convincing himself it was just a jello shot.

“Yoongi, you don’t have to.” Jungkook glanced at the pickle juice shot, wishing he could trade.

“I know I don’t have to. Now on the count of 3, it’s bottoms up. Got it bud?”

Jungkook nodded, teeth still chattering from his chills.

“Alright. One, two, three.”

The boys downed the shots, with one’s taste buds revolting against them.

“Yoongi, you okay?” Taehyung asked.

“Yeah, just got choked up for a minute. I’m proud of you Kook.”

Jungkook smiled a bit, and then cuddled back down in his blanket, and further into Jimin’s embrace.

“Wanna watch a movie Kookie?” Jin asked, rising from Jungkook’s side.

“Can we watch Monsters INC?”

“Sure bud.” Yoongi slid in under the maknae’s feet.

“I’ve got the heat turned up. Let me get those socks JK.” Namjoon slipped the fuzzy blue socks onto Jungkook’s feet, and then covered them up again with the blanket.

“Just so you guys know… I could have done it by myself. I’m almost as old as you guys. I’m not a baby.”

“We know Jungkookie, we know.” Jimin started to play with Jungkook’s hair, and he was out cold asleep before the commercials even went off.

 The End

#emeto #Everyone's a caretaker #RPF #SickieJungkook #SickieJK #Yoongi is such a sweetheart #BTSSickfics

[livesincerely]

dress you up, dress you down ch.1 - dress you up

aka the Tie Fic. Also on Ao3

00000

“So. Davey.”

Davey pauses mid-sip. He looks at Katherine, then down at the cup of coffee in his hand—it’s the expensive kind, the kind that comes with milk and sugar, the kind that Davey would never dare buy for himself—then back up at Katherine, and realizes that he’s been tricked.

He sets his cup down with a heavy sigh. “What is it?”

To her credit, Katherine doesn’t even pretend to misunderstand. “Jack needs new clothes.”

Davey’s eyebrows shoot up.

“Okay...” he says after a moment of consideration. “Why does Jack need new clothes? We got him that art smock so he’d stop getting paint on his selling shirts and I haven’t noticed any rips or tears—“

“No, not his selling clothes,” Katherine interrupts. “I want to get him a few outfits that he can wear for his shifts in the art department. He keeps coming in wearing his Newsies cap and he showed up at my father’s office on Friday with a piece of tie-line holding his pants up instead of a belt.”

“He didn’t,” Davey says, though he doesn’t find it at all hard to believe, torn between laughter and exasperation.

“He really did,” Katherine says, the corners of her eyes crinkling up in amusement. “I’m sure a lot of it is just impertinence for impertinence’s sake—understandable after all that’s happened—and god knows it’s good to have someone around that won’t jump at my father’s every beck and call, but Davey,“ Katherine leans forward, her expression turning serious, “you get why things can’t continue on this way, don’t you?”

Davey takes a long drink of his coffee to give his thoughts a chance to settle. Because the thing is, Davey absolutely understands Katherine’s concern.

Jack’s new position at The World is a fantastic opportunity, especially for someone who wasn’t born with the privileges of a full education, a comfortable home, or family connections to ease his way in life. This job might just be a weekly political cartoon, but it has the potential to one day be so much more: the start of a life-long career, where Jack can do something he loves and get paid a fair wage to do it.

Jack’s hard working and smart and so incredibly talented, but he’s also stubborn as a mule and dead set against submitting to any kind of authority, even over something as simple as an office dress code. Pulitzer and the other managers in the art department might be willing to look over Jack’s apparel for now, but not forever—the last thing Davey wants is for Jack to get passed up for promotions, raises, and projects because he can’t dress the part.

“Yeah,” Davey finally says. “I get it. It’s a good idea, Kath.”

“Great!” Katherine exclaims. “So now we just have to convince Jack to let us pick out some business casual clothes for him; I was thinking we could spend tomorrow uptown, my tailor will be able to see us right away, I’m sure, and we can get Jack’s measurements taken and have him fitted for a few—“

“Wait, hold on,” Davey says, suddenly wrong-footed. “How did I become involved in this? It’s your idea!”

“But it’ll be easier to convince him if he hears it from both of us,” Katherine says. She’s hitting him with the wide-eyed, pouty, please-Davey-do-this-favor-for-me face. Joke’s on her: if Les and Sarah hadn’t already indoctrinated him against that face years ago, the last couple of months spent as the lone voice of reason amongst the chaos that is the Lower Manhattan Newsies would’ve done the trick. “And it would be helpful to have your opinion when he starts trying things on.”

“You mean, it’ll be helpful to have me there to take the fall if Jack hates the idea,” Davey says.

“Oh, sure, like Jack’s gonna be angry with you,” Katherine says, rolling her eyes.

Davey patently ignores this comment. “I mean, you clearly have a handle on the situation,” he continues, fingers drumming against the rim of his coffee cup. “I’m sure you don’t really need me to—“

“If you come with me to pitch this to Jack, I’ll make sure he leaves with a new set of suspenders,” Katherine says.

Davey blinks, his protests thoroughly derailed. Katherine knows him too well.

“I hate you,” he says, blowing out a breath. “Fine, I’ll go. But I’m telling you now, Jack’s not gonna be happy about this.”

“All we have to do is present a united front,” Katherine states with incredible confidence. “He can’t argue if it’s both of us.”

“No. Hell no,” Jack says when they approach him the next day. The two of them have been talking for all of five minutes and Katherine and Jack both look ready to throw punches. Davey’s relatively sure it won’t come to that, though honestly, his money’s on Katherine if it does.

“Jack, would you please just—“ Katherine gets out through clenched teeth.

“I said no, Kath! How many more times do you wanna hear it? No!”

Katherine throws Davey an exasperated look—one that says ‘for the love of God, talk some sense into him.’

“Jack,” Davey starts, taking a step closer to him. “I think you should let Kathy take you shopping for some new clothes.”

Jack whirls around to face him, his eyes dark with irritation. “Dave, just ‘cause  I’m workin’ a desk gig don’t mean I need some fancy geddup to do my damn job—“

“Jack, no one’s saying you need to start showing up to The World dressed to the nines,” Davey says, “but don’t you think having a nice set of office clothes would get the other workers to treat you with more respect?”

“I shouldn’t hafta dress a certain way to get treated decent,” Jack says, and he still looks upset but he’s starting to settle down. “Havin’ money don’t make ya a better worker and being poor don’t make me an idiot.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Davey asks, running a hand soothingly along Jack’s shoulders until the tension there eases. “I’m not saying it’s fair, of course it’s not fair—but stuff like this never is. It’s about knowing the game and learning how to play it. Katherine and I just want to make sure you got a decent shot at it.”

Jack holds Davey’s gaze for a long moment, then the last of the fight drains out of him.

“Fine,” he huffs. “What exactly did the two of ya have in mind?”

00000

Katherine doesn’t give Jack the opportunity to reconsider. She drags them uptown to a little tailor’s shop with a neat, simple storefront, but whose glossy windows and brass finishes make it clear that this is a place that caters to the upper class.

The bell above the doorway chimes gently as they enter. The young woman behind the counter looks up from where she’s taking inventory and greets them with a smile; a moment later an older gentleman with a head of salt and pepper hair comes out of a back room, his arms open wide in welcome.

“Miss Katherine,” he exclaims, taking one of Kathy’s hands in his own and kissing the back of it. “How good it is to see you once more! And you have brought friends!”

“Good morning, Giovanni,” Katherine greets warmly. “This is David and this is Jack. Jack’s the latest hire in the art department—he works on political cartoons.”

“Jack… Kelly?” Giovanni asks. “Yes, I have seen your work! I very much enjoyed the cartoon with the little shoe shiner. Was very funny!”

Jack looks a little caught off guard—like he wants to dislike Giovanni on sheer principle, but is finding it difficult in the face of such an honest compliment.

“Uh... nice to meet ya,” Jack says.

“We’re looking to get Jack fitted for a few things,” Katherine explains. “Business casual, office wear. Do you have time to see us now?”

“Of course, Miss Katherine,” Giovanni says. “We will get this taken care of right away. Abigail!” The girl at the front counter scurries over. “Turn the sign on the door—we have a project and must not be disturbed!”

Giovanni has Jack stand on a small footstool towards the back of the store. He makes a slow circle around him—pulling a tape measure out of one of his apron pockets and whipping it to and fro—eyeing Jack critically and muttering rapidly to Abigail, who trails behind him dutifully taking notes.

For his part, Jack looks deeply uncomfortable with having such careful scrutiny trained on him. Davey tries to seem calm and reassuring but he’s not sure how successful he is: he’s feeling a bit out of his depth as well.

Finally, Giovanni steps back. “This is enough to start with,” he says, nodding decisively.

“What options can we look at right now?” Katherine asks, with a kind of intensity that Davey would be hard pressed to muster up over any clothing, no matter its quality. “Ideally we’d like to leave here with at least one full outfit.”

“We keep a selection of our most popular styles on hand for customers to try on before purchase,” Giovanni offers. “Would you like to begin with those? I can think of several that would flatter the young gentleman.”

Katherine smiles. “That sounds perfect.”

The two of them have a quick conversation about colors and cuts and fabrics that goes over Davey’s head, then Giovanni is bustling Jack into a changing area, his arms weighed down with bolts of cloth and a mouthful of stick pins. In the meantime, Abigail ushers Katherine and Davey over to a pair of cushioned stools set up next to a tri-fold mirror, ostensibly so they’ll have the best view from which to offer commentary and cast judgement.

Or, really, for Katherine to cast judgement. Davey suspects his main job will be mediating when the argument between ‘An Actual Heiress’ Kath and ‘the paint stains on this vest match my hat so it’s fine’ Jack inevitably breaks out.

They’ve not been waiting very long when Jack comes out of the fitting room to model the first outfit. Davey glances over when he hears the rustle of the curtain being pushed back and—

Oh.

Oh.

Jack is wearing a navy blue button down with a pair of dark gray slacks and a matching vest. The colors and cuts aren’t that much different than his usual garb, but the way everything fits makes a whole world of difference. Oh good god, does everything fit.

Davey’s eyes bounce here and there, his brain unable to decide which part of the incredible sight to focus on. There’s the strong line of Jack’s shoulders, which look even broader than usual because of how the vest tapers in at the waist. Or how the fabric of the pants drapes nicely around Jack’s thighs, perfectly highlighting the toned muscle underneath.

Jack looks back to ask Giovanni a question. Davey’s eyes trail up the backs of his legs as he turns, then up over the curve of his ass—

Davey ducks his head to hide his burning face. Oh no.

“That looks great, Giovanni,” Katherine says. “How does it feel, Jack?”

“Like it’s too damn expensive,” Jack mutters. He’s standing strangely: holding his arms out from his sides like he’s trying his hardest not to touch the clothes even as he wears them. “I’m still not convinced that all this is necessary.”

“Do not start with me, Jack Kelly,” Katherine says, one eyebrow lifted. “Now honestly, what do you think?”

“Well... it fits,” Jack says lamely. “That’s all that matters, right?”

“Jack,” Katherine starts with a huff.

“I’m serious!” Jack says defensively. “I’m not tryin’ta get on ya nerves, Kath, but I dunno what else there is to say.”

Katherine considers him for a moment, then sighs, disappointed but accepting the answer. “Davey, what do you think.”

Davey’s throat works. He still sort of feels like someone’s hit him over the head, but he manages to say, “The gray is nice. You can match it with a bunch of different colored shirts.”

“Hmm...” Katherine hums, tilting her head to the side. “Simple, versatile... sure, we can make that work.”

“Versatile?” Jack whispers to Davey.

Davey gets caught between not staring at Jack and trying not to look like he’s avoiding staring at Jack; his gaze lands somewhere around Jack’s left ear. “She means colors like black and gray and navy and brown—stuff that goes with everything.”

“Right, okay,” Jack mutters to himself. “That don’t sound too bad.”

Another quick conversation between Giovanni and Katherine, then Jack’s back in the fitting room to try on a second option. As the curtain pulls shut, Davey feels himself let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

Katherine glances over at him and says, “Aren’t you glad you agreed to come with us?”

Davey’s blush had been fading, but it flairs up again with a vengeance. “You are the worst person.”

“I am the best person,” Katherine corrects. “I’m the reason you know what Jack looks like in pants that actually fit his waist—“

“Katherine,” Davey hisses, shoulders hunching in embarrassment.

“—and I saw you staring at his biceps. You’re welcome for that, by the way.”

“Katherine, oh my god—!”

Jack comes out again, this time in a black and white ensemble, and still looking far too handsome for someone who’s been safety pinned into his clothes.

“I like this, but it’s a little... plain.” Katherine says, mercifully distracted from tormenting Davey any further.

“And? What’s wrong with plain?” Jack grumbles. He moves as if to cross his arms across his chest, then seems to remember all the sharp pins sitting very close to his skin. He settles for tucking his hands in his pockets. “Plain works just fine for me.”

“It needs something to finish the look,” Kath muses, ignoring Jack completely. She looks at Giovanni and asks, “What sorts of ties do you have?”

“No. Absolutely not. Ya mighta talked me into a coupla shirts but ya ain’t gonna put me in no tie—“

“We have a fine selection, Miss Katherine,” Giovanni responds, joining Katherine in talking over Jack’s protests. “In fact, we just received a variety of silk ties in a number of colors. I will fetch the display—“

Jack’s eyes bug out a little when he hears the work silk, his mouth opening and closing soundlessly; Davey fairs only slightly better. Katherine and Giovanni don’t pay them any mind—examining the assortment of ties, weighing the pros and cons of each one, occasionally holding one up next to Jack’s face and frowning.

After a few more seconds of spluttering, Jack seems to come to terms with the fact that he’s leaving with a tie. He points at the array Giovanni has brought over and says, “What about that blue one?”

“You and your blue,” Katherine mutters, shaking her head. “How about something different for once? This silver one is nice. Or, how about this one, with the stripes—“

“If you’re gonna make me get a tie, you could at least let me pick it out,” Jack grumbles. “I like the blue one.”

“You can’t only wear blue, Jack,” Katherine says, a little testily. “You need to have different options.”

“Don’t seem so important to me,” Jack says with a shrug. “Blue’s a good color: it don’t stain too easy, it’s versatile.” His eyes dart briefly to Davey, and then away again. “And it’s my favorite.”

“Be that as it may, I still think you should choose something else—“

“Jeeze, why does it matter so much—“

“The red one,” Davey blurts out, and given that he hadn’t meant to say anything at all, it comes out much louder than he’d intended it to.

Katherine and Jack halt their bickering and they all turn to look at him. Davey regrets opening his mouth.

He swallows, then awkwardly continues, “You should try the red one. It looks nice—red is a nice color, I mean. You’d look good in it, or it’d look good on you. Either, really, I guess. And, um... yeah.”

“Uh, okay,” Jack says when Davey trails off. “Sure, let’s try the red one.”

Giovanni slips the tie around Jack’s neck and knots it for him with professional ease. Jack flips his collar back down, then tucks the ends hesitantly under his vest. He stares at himself in the mirror, twisting and turning as he checks himself over from all the different angles.

It looks nice. Better than nice, actually. Maybe even incredible. Davey tugs at the collar of his own shirt, suddenly feeling overheated.

“Yeah, that’s the one,” Katherine declares. She’s not even looking at Jack, instead she’s watching Davey for his reaction. She pins him with a knowing smirk, and Davey blushes even harder, privately wishing for a nice, cozy sinkhole to open up beneath him and put him out of his misery.

“I dunno,” Jack murmurs dubiously, not noticing the exchange. “What do you think, Dave? Does it live up to your expectations?”

Davey really wishes Jack would stop asking for his opinion. He already feels like he’s suffocating—Jack could at least do him the courtesy of letting him die unharassed.

“...I think it looks good,” Davey mutters into the floor.

Jack does another turn. “I still think the blue one woulda been nice...”

“Get the tie,” Katherine orders.

“But—“

“Get the tie before I stab you with these fabric scissors.”

Jack ends up leaving with two vest-and-pants combinations, one in black and one in gray, four dress shirts in various colors, the promised suspenders, a new pair of shoes, and the red silk tie. Katherine leaves with an incredibly satisfied expression and Davey leaves with significantly elevated blood pressure.

As they walk back home, Katherine says, “So do you want me to hold on to everything, or do you want Davey to?”

“What?” Jack asks.

“Who do you want to keep your new clothes, me or Davey?” Katherine repeats.

Jack and Davey stare at her, not grasping her meaning.

“You don’t have anywhere to keep them at the Lodging House, and I would say you could see if Medda would let you keep them at the theater but I know they wouldn’t last the day before they were covered in paint,” Katherine explains. “So? Me or Davey?”

“I guess I’ll have Davey keep ‘em for me, if that’s okay,” Jack decides, glancing at Davey for permission. “Probably easier that way.”

“Um, sure, that’s fine,” Davey says, taking the garment bag when Jack hands it to him. “You can get changed at mine, and we can clean and press them for you too.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Jack agrees. “I’ll just pop over before my shift tomorrow, yeah?”

Davey imagines tomorrow, imagines trying to deal with Jack in a suit and tie first thing in the morning, and can feel his expression start to falter. “Sounds good,” he says weakly.

00000

Chapter two here

#newsies #javid #Jack Kelly #davey jacobs #*the writing desk #*final cut #*editor's note #the tie fic #tease series #this was not supposed to be this long #but im really happy with how it turned out