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livesincerely · 5 months

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hungry like the wolf

Also on Ao3. Rated E

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“So,” Jack starts, once they’ve both gotten their drinks, drumming his fingers against the bar top.

The absolutely gorgeous man sitting on the stool next to him swirls his vodka cranberry around in its glass, then takes a sip, vividly blue eyes peering at him from over the rim.

“So,” he agrees. “I guess there’s no point in beating around the bush. Are you…” he searches for the right word, something sheepish—chagrined, almost—tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Interested? No hard feelings if you aren’t, I know this wasn’t your idea—“

He shakes his head, then runs a weary hand over his forehead, further ruffling an already tousled head of curls.

“Just tell Sarah it didn’t work out. Feel free to blame me if you need to, she already thinks I’m hopeless so she’ll believe it if you say I ran you off. I’ll pay for your beer, give you some cash for a cab home—“

“Hang on a sec,” Jack interrupts before he can be politely hustled out the door. “What makes you think ‘m not interested?”

That seems to draw him up short. “Are you?”

“I could be,” Jack says, and he’s proud of himself for how nonchalant he manages to sound. “I’m mostly just kinda confused, Sarah didn’t exactly go int’a much detail. Maybe you can fill me in on the rest and we can go from there? You’re a succubus?”

“Sarah’s a succubus,” he corrects, relaxing back into his seat. “I’m an incubus—well, half, anyway—but it’s basically the same thing. And it’s honestly not that big a deal, Sarah just thinks that now that she and Katherine are engaged she needs to meddle in my love life too. My name’s David, by the way,” he tacks on as an afterthought, “in case she forgot to mention.”

“It did come up, funnily enough,” Jack replies with a grin. “It’s good ta meet ya, Dave. I’m Jack Kelly.”

“Jack Kelly,” Davey repeats slowly, as if testing the shape of the name in his mouth. “And what, exactly, did my sister have to bribe you with to convince you to come here tonight, Jack Kelly?”

“Well, don’t say it like that,” Jack laughs, leaning closer. “It ain’t like she had’ta twist my arm. All she told me was that she had a brother that was coming off a break up and hadn’t eaten in a while, and maybe would I be willing ta meet up with him, see if we’d hit it off.”

“It wasn’t a breakup,” Davey huffs, exasperated. “I told Sarah that Tony and I weren’t— I had an arrangement with a good friend of mine, we’ve known each other for years and we had a system in place. But then he went and fell in love with a Selkie,” —Davey rolls his eyes but his mouth curls into a smile, soft and small and fond— “and left me high and dry. And I guess getting back into the dating pool just seemed like a lot more trouble than it’s worth.”

Jack pauses.

“…Are you interested in any of this?” he asks carefully. “‘Cause I get it, going along with something ‘cause your sibling strong-armed you into it, so feel free ta tell me ta fuck off, I won’t be offended—“

“No,” Davey blurts, reaching out to grab Jack’s forearm to stop him from rising. “No, that’s not— I’m not— I’m not, not interested, it’s just —“

His gaze drops for a moment, shoulders slumping as he lets out a sigh.

“Dating’s hard,” he quietly admits. “Especially for me, I tend to have the absolute worst luck with partners. If they’re not weird about the incubus thing then they turn out to be complete assholes. So, I usually don’t even bother.”

“But,” Jack starts, confused for multiple reasons, not the least of which is the fact that someone who looks—and Christ, smells—like David Jacobs does should easily have his pick of partners. “Don’t’cha need’ta eat? I mean, how does that work if you don’t—“

“I can eat regular food,” Davey clarifies. “I’m not, like, starving or anything, I get by just fine.” He tilts his head, considering. “I guess the best way to describe it is that it isn’t as filling, isn’t as satisfying, as actual sex.”

Jack’s glad that Davey’s the one to say it first—sex. Something about putting it to words, admitting plainly, what they’re both here for, feels like a point of no return.

He takes another drink of his beer to ease a suddenly parched throat, a hot prickle of desire racing down his spine. He wonders if Davey can feel it too: the hum of connection that starts to spark in air, the vast chasm of possibility that seems to have opened up beneath them. As if hearing Jack’s thoughts, Davey pauses—there’s the slightest hesitation, those blue eyes flashing, as if he can sense sexual attraction like a bloodhound scenting the air—but he continues without comment.

“It’s not even about having sex, not really,” Davey explains. “It’s about the energy of it, being a conduit of that energy, whatever form that might take. Just being around sex, facilitating it, manipulating it, is enough for some. Lots of incubi work as sort-of professional wingmen, or as consultants on porn sets or sex shops—they can be close enough to eat without having to actually engage in any… activities themselves, if they don’t want to.”

Davey taps his fingers against the side of his glass, rolls his shoulders back, then says, “So, don’t feel obligated, is what I’m trying to say. I only want to do this if we’re both interested, and for the right reasons.”

“I promise ya, the last thing I’m feelin’ is obligated,” Jack drawls. “Jus’ as long as we’re both on the same page.”

But Davey still looks uncertain.

“And you’re okay with the whole…” He makes a vague hand-wavy motion over himself. “I’m told my aura can be a touch… overwhelming, once it starts to take effect.”

“‘M not too worried,” Jack says with a shrug. “Werewolves are immune to almost everything—lycanthropy doesn’t exactly play well with other types of magic. Mother Moon tends to be pretty possessive of her children, I guess.”

“Sounds handy,” Davey says.

“‘S got its uses,” Jack agrees. “So you don’t gotta worry ‘bout enchantin’ me or nothin’.” He offers up his most charming smile. “At least, not any more than you already have.

A laugh bubbles off of Davey’s lips. His entire demeanor seems to brighten several clicks, like drawing back a curtain to let in the sun.

“That was smooth!” he accuses, sounding utterly delighted about it.

“I try,” Jack says, just as captivated, grinning right back. “Hopefully, I’m doin’ somethin’ right. You strike me as the kinda guy that’s pretty damn hard’ta impress.”

“Oh, believe me, you’re already head and shoulders above most of my past failures,” Davey says.

“You’re joking,” Jack says, disbelieving. “Been seein’ some real gems, have ya, cariño?”

“If only,” Davey scoffs. “You should’ve seen the last guy, he couldn’t even—“

Davey stops. Then Davey blushes, a flush of pink warming his face.

“Oh, there’s definitely a story there,” Jack says, drinking him in. He feels a little intoxicated, and not from the alcohol. “Spill, Jacobs.”

“There’s not much to say,” Davey lies—so terribly that it’s obvious even without the tell-tale skip in his heartbeat. “The fact that you’re not groping me under the table or visibly drooling is already an excellent sign. If we actually make it to a bed without incident I’ll be thrilled. And even then, most of them usually can’t manage to… aren’t able to…”

He trails off, awkward, and all at once the heart of the problem becomes obvious.

“Oh,” Jack realizes. “They can’t keep up with you.”

Davey’s blush deepens, which is only spurs Jack on.

“Of course they can’t,” Jack continues, shaking his head. “Eres guapísimo—it’s a miracle their damn brains didn’t melt out their ears.”

“It’s not funny, Davey protests, but it’s a halfhearted effort at best. “The last guy I tried to hookup with came in his pants in the back of an Uber—we didn’t even make it four blocks! I wasn’t even touching him. Then he didn’t understand why I was absolutely uninterested in doing anything except going home, alone. And then,” Davey leans closer, starting to gesture with his hands as talks, “he tracked me down on venmo a few days later and tried to stick me with his dry cleaning bill!”

Jack can’t help it: he barks out a laugh. “He didn’t!”

“Yes he fucking did!” Davey insists. “And, honestly, I’m not sure if that even cracks the top ten of ‘David Jacobs’ Tragic Attempts at Romance’—“

“There’s worse?” Jack asks. “Christ, sweetheart, I’m startin’ ta feel like I should be properly wining and dining ya, help make up for some of the assholes.”

“You won’t be making up for anything if you don’t stop laughing at me,” Davey grumbles, but he’s not truly annoyed—there’s a playful spark behind his eyes, anticipation written into every line of his body. “Besides, who’s to say you won’t be more of the same?”

“Ain’t gonna happen,” Jack says, confident.

“Sounds like someone’s sure of themselves,” Davey muses, arching a brow.

“Sounds ta me like the bar ain’t that high,” Jack counters with a cheeky grin. “Don’t be an inconsiderate dickhead and don’t tap out pathetically early—shouldn’t be too difficult.”

“And you think you can handle it?”

“If there’s one thing a werewolf’s got in spades,” Jack purrs. “It’s stamina.”

Davey’s eyes go deliciously dark.

“You’re not cute,” he informs Jack pertly, and the challenge in his voice probably isn’t meant to be as enticing as it is. Probably.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Jack says, and he lets his fangs drop as he leans forward, running his tongue over the razor sharp canines that peek out from underneath his smirk. “I’m fucking adorable.”

He doesn’t miss the way Davey’s eyes drop to his mouth, the way his throat bobs around a swallow. Jack just barely resists the urge to preen under his attention.

Without lifting his gaze, Davey says, in a voice that’s gone whiskey-smooth, “Shall we head out then?”

“Don’t’cha wanna finish your drink first?” Jack teases. “An’ I still got half a beer left.”

In answer, Davey tips his head back and downs the rest of his drink in one go, then he reaches over and plucks Jack’s beer out of his now slack grip and tosses that back too.

The empty glass lands against the bar top with a solid thunk but it’s barely a blip on Jack’s radar. Because Davey cups a hand around Jack’s jaw and draws him into a long, searing kiss. He tastes of hops and wolfsbane, cranberry and vodka, and something that must be uniquely Davey—warm and smokey and with a hint of bite.

Davey pulls away just enough for Jack to see the deep blue of his eyes, the thick canopy of his lashes. “And now?”

It takes Jack a second to find his voice, the keys in the ignition but the engine refusing to turn over. He rasps, “After you.”

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Davey’s apartment ends up being about ten minutes away, but god it feels like an eternity. They walk through the bustling sidewalks, street lamps and stars lighting their way, their hands not-quite brushing, their eyes not-quite meeting.

When they reach their destination, Davey works the deadbolt open, ushering him inside with a knowing smirk. Jack lets him hang up his jacket and keys, watches him nudge the door shut with his hip, then pins him up against it and slots their mouths together for another heated kiss.

Davey pulls him in immediately, his hands grabbing at Jack’s collar, tugging him closer, the press of his mouth sweet and soft. Jack sighs into him, lifting his chin for a better angle, hands fumbling for the hem of Davey’s sweater, running calloused fingertips over the small of his back, the curve of his waist.

“Wait, wait,” Davey pants against his mouth. He twists out of Jack’s embrace, then darts around the corner into what must be the kitchen. Befuddled and horny, Jack lumbers after him.

He finds him rummaging around in his fridge.

“Do you have a preference for Gatorade?” Davey asks. “I’ve got red and purple.”

“What?” Jack says, stupidly. “Uh, red, I guess.”

Davey hums in response. Under his breath he mutters to himself, “I’ll grab two, just to be safe.”

He nudges the refrigerator door closed with his hip, then turns and opens a cabinet. He pulls out a box of granola bars and grabs a handful.

“Dave, what are you doing?” Jack finally asks.

“Getting supplies,” Davey says, as though this should be obvious. “Can’t have you passing out on me.”

“I think I’ll be okay,” Jack says, bemused, stepping closer. “‘M made of pretty stern stuff.”

“Oh, so lycanthropy protects you from low blood sugar, now, does it?” Davey asks, pinning him with a spectacularly bitchy look. God, Jack’s already so fucking stupid for this man, it’s embarrassing. “Keeps your electrolytes properly balanced? Wow, that must be one hell of a party trick—“

“Alright, alright, point taken,” Jack says, curling himself around Davey’s back, letting his hands settle low over his hips. “You’re the expert, I’ll let you handle it.”

“Did you already have dinner?” Davey wonders. “I should’ve asked earlier, while we were still at the bar… Do you want something to eat? I can get you something—“

“What I really want is to get back’ta kissing you,” Jack murmurs, pressing his lips to the hollow behind Davey’s ear; Davey goes gratifyingly still in his arms, his pulse fluttering delicately beneath his skin. “So, if I promise to let you know the moment I get thirsty and have a big breakfast in the mornin’, can we please move you and your Gatorade somewhere more comfortable?”

“…and the granola bars,” Davey bargains.

“And the granola bars,” Jack easily concedes. “I’ll even eat one right now if it’ll make you feel better.”

Davey chews at his lip, hesitating. “Would you?” he implores softly.

Jack’s never choked down a granola bar so fast in his life.

Reluctantly reassured, Davey allows himself to be drawn into another kiss—gentle, at first, but it quickly becomes filthy—all tongues and teeth, gasps and sighs, moans and groans. They’re tangled together: Jack’s hands threaded in Davey’s hair, Davey’s thigh pressed hot and hard between his legs, the smoking embers of desire sparking into flame.

“Bedroom?” Jack manages to tear himself away long enough to ask.

“Bedroom,” Davey agrees, and long, elegant fingers curl around Jack’s wrist, dragging him down the hallway.

Jack barely gets a chance to take in the bed before Davey’s pushing him down onto it, lifting himself up and straddling him in a single fluid move. Jack’s hands land on his waist, then slip down to cup his ass, and there’s something heady in the air, linen and woodsmoke twinning together, like lazy winter nights spent in front of the fireplace, wrapped snugly in a blanket, toasty and warm and wonderous.

“Christ,” Jack growls, almost helplessly, against the hollow of his throat, not really meaning to be heard. “How do you smell so fucking good?”

“Sex demon, remember?” Davey says, laughing, rocking their hips together in a rough, dirty grind. “Guess it just comes with the territory.”

“I’ll show you territory,” he mutters, leaning in with intent. He tracks a path along Davey’s neck with his lips, then follows it back with his teeth, working a bruise into the column of his throat. Davey squirms under his attention, tipping his head back to give him better access, and that tiniest hint of surrender drives some bestial part of Jack’s subconscious absolutely wild, pressing in again and again and again.

He pulls away to admire his handiwork.

“Possessive,” Davey notes, his eyes dark with a special sort of relish.

“Oh, you’d know all about possession, wouldn’t you sweetheart,” Jack banters back, brushing one final kiss to the delicate skin.

Davey goes very still, and for one horrible moment Jack worries he’s overstepped. But then he smiles, his scent spiking—sweet and smoky and downright delectable—like the most mouthwatering caramel and somehow just as thick.

“Oh, darling,” Davey says, and Jack can feel his hand draped over the nape of his neck, fingertips just barely brushing against the skin, sending electric tingles down his spine. “I might just have to keep you.”

“You’re killin’ me, Jacobs,” Jack’s groans, his heart pounding double-time in his chest. “Clothes. Off. Fuck.”

They separate just enough to strip: Jack pulls his shirt over his head, and when Davey doesn’t manage to tear out of his sweater—and the button up he’s wearing underneath, fucking hell—within the point five seconds Jack can stand to keep his hands to himself, he starts helping with those too, eager to uncover every square inch of skin.

“How do you want to do this?” Davey asks as he kicks out his pants. Jack barely hears him, he’s too busy staring: his ass and thighs could’ve been carved from marble, works of the finest art. “Top or bottom?”

“I’m good either way,” Jack answers, fighting with his own belt. “This is your party, Dave. Dealer's choice.”

“I think I want you inside me,” Davey decides, giving him a long once over. “At least for this round.”

“Fine by me,” Jack rasps. “Here, I think I gotta condom in my wallet—“

Davey stops him with a hand on his arm. “I… would you be totally against going without?” he asks. “I’m clean and I can’t catch anything, regardless… I assume you can’t either?”

“Advanced healing,” Jack confirms thickly, the words feeling clumsy in his mouth. “I’m game if you are. But, fair warning, without a condom it’s gonna be… messy.”

“Messy sounds perfect,” Davey says lowly, and there’s a flash of pink as he runs his tongue over teeth.

Jack’s dick throbs, pre-cum beading at the tip.

“Fuckin’—“ Jack bites off the rest, grabbing Davey by the hips and wrestling him down onto the bed. He can barely think through wanting him, settling in the vee of those perfect thighs, the press of bare skin against bare skin utterly exhilarating. “Drivin’ me crazy—“

“God, your hands,” Davey groans, his eyes half-lidded and heavy. “Please, please touch me.”

Jack winds a hand down between them. He’s just barely cupped his fingers under Davey’s balls—gentle, tentative—when Davey gives a full-body jolt, rearing up so suddenly that they almost headbutt each other.

“Whoa,” Jack yelps. “You okay?“

Davey’s mouth works soundlessly for a few moments. He’s flushed so deeply that it bleeds down his throat and chest, painting him in a wash of rosy pink.

“Scratch that,” he finally gasps out. “Get inside me.”

“Now?”

“Now,” Davey insists, expression wild and a touch desperate. “Just come here— oh, oh fuck—“

Jack scrambles to line himself up at Davey entrance. Confused, maybe a little panicked, he says, “But I didn’t prep ya—“

“I’m fine, it’s fine, just, please—“

And there’s no resistance as Jack slides home, Davey’s body accepting him easily, eagerly, hot and tight and gloriously good.

“Jesus, sweetheart,” Jack murmurs, watching Davey’s wide-eyed expression, a little overwhelmed at the sight he makes splayed out against the sheets, writhing in what can only be described as ecstasy as Jack bottoms out. “I knew ya needed it but I didn’t realize how badly.”

“Sorry,” Davey says. His lips are red and kiss-swollen, his hands fisted into the bedding on either side of him, but he still manages to say, his chest heaving, “I didn’t mean to lose it like that. I guess it really has been a while…” He blinks hard. “Did I freak you out too badly or are you okay to keep going?”

“Ain’t like I'm gonna take off, is it?” Jack muses. He pulls out just a bit, then carefully thrusts back in, sinking even further into that exquisite heat. “I’m literally balls deep inside you.”

“Consent is a continuous contract,” Davey lectures, because it tracks that Davey’s the type that can host a whole goddamn seminar while Jack is trying to fuck him stupid. But not even he can hide how his words are a breathless rasp, that his voice threaded with aching, blatant desire. “It can be retracted or reassessed at any time—“

He breaks off with another gasp as Jack rolls his hips forward, nice and slow, then does it again, starting up a steady rhythm.

“Quierdo, unless you say otherwise, they’d have to drag me off of you by my hair,” Jack vows, not entirely sure if he’s exaggerating or not. There’s just something about Davey—the snark and sweetness and sin of him—that draws him in, beckons him closer, makes something deep inside of him pant and tremble and howl. “Is this good for you? Less or more or…?”

“More,” is Davey’s immediate response. “More, oh god, please more—“

Jack leans in and kisses him then, unable to resist, and Davey arches into him like he’s starving for it—Christ, he probably is.

He lingers there for a long moment, their mouths moving together, fierce and frenzied. Then he ducks his head and presses his nose into the space just under Davey’s jaw because he has to, has to lick and nibble and mark all that delicious, delectable skin, and Davey makes a noise that’s pure want. He tilts his head, baring his already bruised throat for another round of marks, and Jack can’t help the rumbling growl that carves its way out of his chest, deep and possessive.

“Oh, fuck,” Davey moans, his heels digging sharper into the small of Jack’s back.

He feels untethered, unmoored, waves of pleasure battering at the hull of the ship, threatening to upend him at any moment. His hips snap forward, almost of their own accord, and he finds a solid, steady pace that’s just this side of brutal. There’s the slap of skin against skin, gasps and groans, the smell of burnt-sugar-sweetness growing heavy in the air, so strong that Jack can almost taste it.

Davey gives as good as he gets: rocking into each of Jack’s thrusts, tugging at Jack’s hair until he moans, his gaze growing darker and darker until his eyes are almost black, and god he’s so fucking gorgeous. The molten vice of him is like nothing else: searing, sizzling heat, hot enough to smolder and scorch, and impossibly, exquisitely tight. Fuck. Fuck.

Davey lets out a lovely little whimper, grabbing for Jack’s shoulders, and Jack realizes a moment too late that his thrusts are starting to catch against Davey’s hole, the base of his cock beginning to swell.

“Ah, shit,” Jack groans, recognizing that familiar tightening deep in his gut. “Dave, I think I’m gonna— My knot, it’s— Should I—?”

“Your… knot?”

“Werewolf thing,” Jack grunts. “Want me to pull out?”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Davey orders, locking his ankles over the small of Jack’s back. “Give it to me.”

Jack couldn’t resist, even if he wanted to. His hips stutter, pistoning strokes turning to rough, dirty grinds. He presses in one last time, nice and deep, then his vision goes white as his orgasm rushes over him.

“Oh,” Davey mewls as Jack’s knot locks inside of him, his mouth slack with bliss. “Oh, that’s— Oh, oh, oh, oh—!”

He comes with a silent scream, the hot clench of his body squeezing around him as he trembles and pants, and Jack can only hold him—hold onto him—nuzzling at his sweaty temple as he rides it out.

“Okay?” Is the first thing Davey mumbles when he finds his voice again.

“Pretty sure I should be askin’ you that,” Jack murmurs fondly. “But ‘m fine.”

“Good.”

Davey shifts slightly, testing the pull of their bodies; Jack hisses, grabbing for his thigh to keep him close as another burst of pleasure spills out of him.

“Sensitive,” Jack rasps, and the sudden worry in Davey’s expression clears, replaced by understanding.

“Oh,” Davey says, biting his lip. His thigh flexes in Jack’s grip. “Do you think we can flip over or is that asking too much?”

With a bit of maneuvering, Jack manages, cradling him close to his chest as they bask in the afterglow.

“How long until it goes down?” Davey asks after a few long moments of breathing and cuddling and laying together, tracing patterns over Jack’s bicep with his fingertips.

“Uh, fifteen minutes on the short side,” Jack says. “Maybe half an hour on the long.”

“Hmm,” Davey acknowledges. He brushes his hair out of his face and shifts back on his haunches, settling down so that he’s properly straddling Jack’s lap. Jack cracks an eye open, confused, but before he can ask, Davey says, “Tell me if this is too much,” and clenches his ass around Jack’s knot.

Jack’s eyes fly open, a harsh, strangled sound clawing its way out of his throat.

Davey’s watching him intently—smug and expectant and far too pleased with himself—a king perched on his throne.

“Oh, darling,” Davey purrs, working his hips in a tight, devastating circle. “Surely you didn’t think I was anywhere close to finished with you?”

Jack’s hands shoot to Davey’s hips: not to keep him still so much as to give himself something to hold on to, his grip bruisingly tight.

But Davey only seems to delight in this reaction. He hums, low in the back of his throat, his scent smoldering with fresh arousal, his eyes shining with self-satisfaction.

“Too much?” Davey asks again, and Jack can’t find the words to answer with. His entire body is alight, his nerves strung out and sparking, dancing right on edge between terrible pleasure and delicious pain. Then Davey rocks up, squeezing and tugging at Jack’s swollen knot.

“Dave,” he gasps, ragged, the word torn from him.

He can barely keep his eyes open, can barely breathe through how thoroughly Davey’s destroying him, but it’s worth it just to take it all in. Because Davey is an absolute vision above him, all lean, sensual strength, his neck and chest flushed with effort, taking his pleasure and dragging Jack right along with him.

“Jack,” Davey says, more firmly this time, and Jack realizes that his lashes have fluttered shut, his eyes rolling back in his head. “I need an answer.”

“I— It’s—“ That’s as far as Jack gets. Everything seems hazy, unfocused, his vision flickering at the edges, pulse after pulse of heat shuddering through him. He manages a nod.

“Breathe,” Davey soothes, and his hands settle over where Jack’s still holding onto his hips for dear life, thumbs stroking gently over his knuckles. “I’ve got you.”

“Jesus Christ,” Jack groans.

He tangles their fingers together for a moment, squeezing, and the contact is grounding and reassuring all at once. He rubs his hands down Davey’s thighs, then somehow finds the coordination to get a hand around Davey dick. He rubs his thumb over the red, leaking tip and Davey’s rhythm stutters, his head falling back as he arcs into the sensation.

“Ah,” he moans, hips twitching as Jack pumps his hand down the shaft, jerking his cock hard and fast in his fist, because he needs to make him fall off that edge, needs it like he needs the air in his lungs, the blood in his veins.

“Jack,” he chants. “Jack, Jack, Jackie, oh god, just like that, don’t stop, don’t—“

His voice breaks, the clench of his ass becomes fucking blistering, just hot and tight and perfect and—

Static. Jack’s not sure if he’s coming again or if he never stopped in the first place, pain and pleasure twisting together in terrible, glorious harmony. When it finally ends, when he finally floats down from that impossible high, he comes back to himself in pieces, wrung out and winded, utterly exhausted.

“…I see what’cha meant about the Gatorade,” he eventually mutters, feeling like he’s run a marathon.

Davey huffs out a laugh. He looks about as wrecked as Jack feels, but there’s something different about him now—a fresh glow to his skin, stress and tension smoothed away—as if someone’s distilled good health down to the essentials and injected it right into his veins.

“You look good,” Jack says, brushing a stray curl out of Davey’s eyes. “Feelin’ better?”

”Much better,” Davey assures him.

“Sweet,” Jack mumbles, nuzzling into the curve of his neck. “Go team.”

Another laugh from Davey, but gentler somehow. He presses a kiss to the top of Jack’s head and murmurs, “I really am going to have to keep you.”

“Not if I keep you first,” Jack replies, lacing their hands together. It feels like the best kind of promise.

#newsies #jack kelly #davey jacobs #javid #*editor's note #*the writing desk #*final cut #hungry like the wolf #it’s here!!!!!!#am I posting my Halloween fic two days after Thanksgiving?#perhaps #don’t judge me #hope you enjoy it!

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citrucee · 9 months

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i made a game demo with my friend!

it's a narrative game about an art blocked photographer trying to get their life back together. in the demo, you get introduced to them and two major forces that will follow you on your journey

it's a short experience, go check it out here!

#citruart #game dev #indie dev #indie game #interactive fiction #game demo #itch.io #narrat #narrative games #the perfect picture #YIPEE its out #its definitely gonna be a full thing at some point #because there's characters here i desperately want you to meet #hope you enjoy it!

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dominimoonbeam · 1 year

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Scars That Remind - 14

We’re coming up on the finale of this fic! Chapter 14 is steamy! The rating got bumped to Explicit. <3

Darlin/Sam

tags: biting, consensual blood drinking, sex

Scars That Remind - 14

“Bite me.” The words came out and Darlin froze as though they hadn’t been the one that said it.

Sam froze too, head turning slowly to look at them. His gaze flicked from their face to their throat and then back. Slowly, his mouth pulled into a smile. “You’re scared.”

“Fuck you.”

“Before or after I bite you?”

Darlin held their breath. They’d been dating for a week, not counting all the time they had spent before that pretending. They usually hung out at Sam’s place, but sometimes they went to the movies, or to pick up food. Sam had made them dinner the other night, which Darlin thought was unnecessary since it wasn’t like he was going to eat the food too.

Sam laughed at their expression and raised his hands. “I’m sorry.” He leaned back on the couch, as if to give them space.

Darlin leaned in that small distance and kissed him. It wasn’t their first kiss, not by a long shot, but it was the first time they couldn’t pretend it was for the sake of some vengeance plan. It felt scarier than anything they’d ever done. Sam was so steady against them, his arms slowly wrapping around them when the kiss deepened. He groaned when they sucked his tongue and the sound felt like it was snaking through their body. How many nights had they made out with this guy? How many nights had they been on the dancefloor with him or leaned up against a wall or a bar for the whole fucking city to see them making out? Why did this feel so much more exposing?

Maybe because they had no excuse to do it other than the naked truth that they had wanted to.

When they broke the kiss they shook a little and his eyes were instantly on them, trying to figure them out the same way they were always trying to figure him out. “I’m not scared of you biting me or…fucking me…” They swallowed, trying not to imagine it, or blush, or look away. “I’m scared of…” Fuck. Oh fuck. There was no way they could finish that sentence. Not even if they knew what words to use. Darlin had never admitted what they were scared of. Not ever. No matter what. Let alone now when what it was was so…soft.

Sam palmed their cheek, fingers tracing a line around the back of their ear, down to the top of their jaw. He waited but when it was clear that Darlin wouldn’t or couldn’t explain, he said, “Okay.”

Darlin’s gaze snapped back up this. Okay? They anticipated an edge to that word, like he was annoyed that they wouldn’t tell him, or he was sick of waiting, but it wasn’t there. It was just…okay.

Darlin moved slowly, sliding up onto their knees on the couch and then straddling his hips. His pupils dilated a fraction and one hand touched their hip. He could easily push them off if he wanted to. Would he want to? Darlin waited another beat, giving him the chance. When he didn’t push them away, didn’t say anything, they leaned in and kissed him again.

The kiss was deep and long. Darlin didn’t want to breathe and Sammy didn’t need to.

He squeezed their hip, his hand sliding slowly to their thigh. He didn’t grab hard enough to bruise and Darlin fought the dark little voice in their head wondering if that meant he wasn’t that into it. When they finally broke the kiss, arms still around the back of his neck and forehead to forehead, Sam let out a low groan. They shivered at that sound.

Darlin pulled their hoodie off and dropped it.

Sam’s dark gaze flicked from their face to their neck and then back.

Darlin smirked, tipping their head the other way, turning the scars subtly away from him. Would it really be any different with Sammy? Yes, of course. Even if it was still teeth rending flesh it would be him. “You can even have the good side,” they offered.

Something in his eyes darkened and they regretted bringing it up. Maybe reminding him about them was a turn off? They should have considered that.

Sam moved his hand from their cheek down to that clean side of their throat, palming it. His thumb stroked across their artery. “I’m not working you for a meal, Darlin. I don’t need that from you.”

“But you want it.”

“But it isn’t something you need to give, and it isn’t a prerequisite for any other intimacy.”

Darlin felt heat rush their face, and other parts of their body. They did want to do other things. Maybe everything. They hadn’t really expected to get there without a pit stop at biting but they were also curious about this. They hadn’t been able to shake what he’d said that night…the way he’d made it sound.

Darlin bit back a smirk when an idea struck. “You could just admit you were full of shit when you said it wasn’t supposed to hurt. Of course, it hurts.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Are you trying to bait me?”

“If you’re worried I’m going to pitch a fit or call you out on making it sound like you’re some sort of amazing biter, then—”

Sam laughed, the sound rich and making Darlin smile even wider. “Oh, you have no idea. I could wreck you with one bite.”

They shivered at the idea but tried to hide it. “Bullshit.”

“Have you ever orgasmed, Darlin?”

Darlin almost choked on air, the sudden and intimate question would have floored them if he didn’t still have one hand on their thigh, keeping them securely in his lap. “Fuck. What the hell?”

“Have you?” he pressed, waiting, that cocky smirk still in the corner of his mouth.

Darlin felt their whole face turning red, but they couldn’t look away. “Yes.”

His mouth tugged at one side, a grin trying to form. “I could make you come with my teeth in your skin and my hands above the waist.”

Darlin swallowed.

His smile grew.

Oh fuck, he could hear their pulse slamming.

“You’re making that up.”

Sam shook his head slowly. “Nope.”

Darlin stared at him. Their pulse was in their ears, which meant it was definitely in his. They could see the shape of his fangs delicately pressing against the curve of his lips. He’d tried not to flash them, but they’d been there since he asked if they’d ever come before. “Prove it,” Darlin exhaled.

Another groan rattled deep in his chest, like he was holding it down. He probably was. He studied them, maybe actually considering it this time. Or maybe just trying to decide how to shut them down again.

“If you don’t want to,” Darlin began, the last thing they wanted to do was pressure him, but they were pretty sure the only reason this wasn’t happening was that he wasn’t sure if they were really okay with it.

“I do,” he said, certain, but still not moving. His hand was still against the side of their neck. “If you change your mind—”

“I won’t.”

“Darlin,” he fixed them with a serious look. “You can and it won’t ruin anything. If you change your mind, for any reason, at any point, all you have to do is say so.”

“You’ll probably be able to tell if I wanted to by my pulse anyway…”

“Your pulse is a jackhammer in my head now and I haven’t even bit you yet.”

Darlin stared at him, considering that. They almost made another joke, shrugging off the idea, but there was something in his expression that begged them not to. “Okay. If I change my mind, or you’re not coming through on all these promises, I’ll tap out.”

Sam smirked at that. His hand moved, thumb stroking down their throat.

Darlin reached down, sliding their hand over his on their thigh and then lifting it and placing it back on their body, just above the waist. Sam smiled. Darlin smiled back. “Let’s see what you got, Sammy.”

The groan wasn’t held down this time, it was there vibrating from his chest into theirs, like a growl only nothing they’d ever heard in a wolf. It wasn’t even quite like all the times they’d heard vamps snarl and hiss at one another, or at them.

His hand slid up their side until he was holding their side, his thumb against ribs, near their heart. It felt like he was tapping into them, listening to all those vital parts of them.

He kissed them again and this time he was in charge, steering the kiss and stroking his tongue into their mouth like he was tasting them—or like he wanted them to taste him. It made them think of other things so vividly that they weren’t sure if they were wound up or vampire magic was something much more interesting than they’d previously imagined.

And then he was kissing their jaw. His hand squeezed their neck once, not enough to cut off air but enough to make them gasp, surprising themself. Oh shit. Sammy smirked, his eyes so dark now that Darlin almost jerked back, almost called an end to this. For one flash of a second, those eyes were familiar, but then they weren’t. Not even close. His expression was cocky and hungry, but it wasn’t cruel. It wasn’t anyone but Sam. Even if this wasn’t going to be as mind blowing as he made it out to be, it was already enjoyable.

His hand slid up their neck, until he was lifting their jaw and turning their head a little. He didn’t go the direction Darlin had expected, he didn’t go for the clean side of their neck. His lips brushed their neck, just below their earlobe, right over one of Quinn’s scars. “Is it okay, Darlin? If you want me to bite elsewhere, I will.” He spoke into their skin and they heard him in their soul.

Darlin shivered. They’d never really thought about him biting that side. They’d never thought anyone would want to. Even vamps they fought with had never bitten anywhere that Quinn had left a scar. They’d never been sure if that was some sort of biter instinct or just considered gross.

They touched his shoulders, feeling stretched out and pinned between his hand and his eyes, even though they were the one on his lap. “It’s okay,” they said, biting back all the words about him not having to. Obviously, he didn’t have to. At some point they had to trust that he knew that, just like he was trusting them to pull the brakes if this got to be too much. They weren’t really sure they would, that they could, but damn them they would try if only for him.

He kissed along that side of their neck, over scars, mouthing them and licking like he was searching for something. For the perfect spot? Darlin doubted he’d find it there, but they were caring less and less. His mouth felt so good against their skin that they forgot everything they knew about this. So what if it hurt? At this rate, that would probably feel fucking amazing too. He groaned against and Darlin whined and pressed against him before they could stop themself.

The hand he’d used to hold their jaw high and to the side slid around to grip the back of their neck, somehow still holding them in that position. He was so solid that they could strain against his grip without him budging. He opened his mouth and they sucked a breath, expecting the bite, wanting the bite.

His fangs stroked over skin, over the ridges of scars, and they could almost see the red lines he was leaving. Not quite breaking skin, not doing anything that wouldn’t fade within the hour.

“Fuck,” Darlin groaned, grabbing at the forearm of the hand he had around the back of their neck. They squirmed. They didn’t mean to.

His dark eyes were on them again, they felt it even before they forced their own open to meet his gaze. He didn’t ask if they wanted to stop this time. He just smiled. “I can taste your blood through your skin. It’s so good, Darlin…I want to taste you everywhere.”

Darlin shook, their head hazy with too much want to handle the deep rumble of his voice on top of everything else.

Sammy smiled like he could hear their thoughts and they had to remind themself that he couldn’t. He couldn’t. Could he? He leaned in again and licked their throat, moaning against their skin as if to prove his point.

Darlin clung to his arm and his shoulder, shaking. Their whole body felt like a raw nerve, only every touch was pleasure rather than pain. How? His mouth opened. His teeth touched skin. There was a seconds pause, that moment to tap out when they knew he was breathlessly listening to their whole body, before his teeth slid into their neck and his soft lips touched down. It was pressure and a pull, but not the cutting, ripping pain they were used to. He swallowed and they moaned. They opened their mouth and gasped for air, eyes wide but vision blurring. He swallowed again and they barely choked back a cry of pleasure.

No fucking way.

No. Fucking. Way.

They dug their fingers into his arm, body stretched from knees on the couch on either side of his hips to his hand at the back of their neck.

He swallowed again and they blissed out, shaking hard, and letting loose an embarrassing tangle of sounds.

Sam shook. He kept his teeth in them while they came back down to themself and then slowly, gently, took them out. He licked the cut skin once, kissing it while he healed it, until he was just cleaning the blood from their skin. They twitched in his lap. His erection strained his jeans but he resisted the urge to rub up against them.

He kissed the spot one last time before leaning back. He’d bitten through a couple of the old scars and then healed the damage he’d done. It left a clean circle, erasing the bits of scar it had overlapped. He hadn’t considered that that might happen.

Darlin slid their arms around the back of his neck and shivered out a deep breath. “Fuck…”

Sam smiled. “Told you.”

Darlin groaned, blushing and pushing their face into his neck as if to hide.

He stroked their back, breathing in the scent of their shampoo and still high on the taste of them. They tasted just like he’d known they would, like he’d sampled from their skin. They tasted wild and his whole body felt warm and alive in a way he hadn’t in years with their blood inside him.

“Sammy?” Darlin asked into his collar.

He smiled, ducking his head to brush his mouth close to their ear. “Yeah?”

“Take me to bed.”

He swallowed a moan and stood up. Darlin gasped in surprise, arms flinging around him like there was every a chance he’d drop them anywhere but the mattress down the hall. “You lightheaded, Darlin?”

They snorted but clung to his shoulders as he walked them through the house. They were shaking a little but their pulse was strong. He hadn’t taken much, just enough to get them over the edge and maybe enough to prove something to the both of them—that this was okay. That this wasn’t like anything else.

He let them go when his knees hit the edge of his mattress and enjoyed the sight of them falling back on his bed and stretching out. They looked relaxed in a way he hadn’t seen them before. He knew part of that was the healing magic and the high of release. But the way they looked up at him, into him, made him feel like part of that was just for him.

Darlin leaned up onto their elbows, neck stretching and face tipping toward him. They pupils were blown but their eyes focused on him like there was nothing else. It sent a chill right through him. No one had ever looked at Sam like that. Not really, not this way. “Sammy,” they exhaled his name and it sounded so vulnerable—absolutely naked with want. “What do you want?” they asked, the smile pulling at the side of their mouth gleaming in their eyes.

He crawled onto his knees on the bed, on either side of their thighs, reveling in how their smile grew when he pulled his shirt off. They reached for his side and then stopped, gaze flicking back up to his face. “Can I touch, Sammy?”

He groaned, settling one hand to the mattress beside their head and leaning down, his face just over theirs. “Anything. You can do anything you want with me, Darlin. I’m yours.”

Their breath caught like they were actually surprised by something he was pretty sure had been obvious for a while now. Their hand was warm on his skin and their kiss searing.

He grinned into that kiss when Darlin bucked under him and rolled them. Their fingers were on the buttons of his jeans even before they started kissing their way down his body, making him squirm. Sam couldn’t remember the last time he’d squirmed.

No. He could. Alexis had liked to make him squirm. But that was different and he pushed the thought away. Darlin bit his hipbone and Sam gasped, looking down at them. They watched him when they tugged his open jeans down his hips and thighs. Were they gauging his reaction or did they just want to keep his attention where it belonged?

“Darlin—” he started, not even sure what he was going to say because his brain went white the moment they licked him. His head dropped back and his mouth opened when theirs wrapped their lips around him. “Oh fuck, Darlin…”

They palmed his hip, head moving, and Sam shuddered, staring up at the ceiling because he knew—knew—that if he looked down his own body they would be looking back at him and he was pretty sure he’d come apart if he saw that right that second.

Their blood in his body made his skin burn and ache. It was different than anything else he’d ever had. Stronger. Warmer. Pulsing with a form of magic he’d never known before. Was this how it felt to feed off a shifter? Or was it just Darlin? Somehow he doubted he’d ever know. Shifters weren’t known to let vampires feed off them. They didn’t frequent blood clubs unless they were looking for a fight. Or they were Darlin, hanging out with Sam, trying to bait a lunatic.

They swallowed around him and he groaned, his hand sliding to the back of their head. They tensed, heartbeat jumping, and he knew they were bracing like he was about to take control from them. Sam sat up, forcing Darlin to do the same. Their lips were swollen and their eyes still blown with lust and magic. Their scars caught the dim light, cascading down that side of their neck and shoulder, others cutting down their torso. Bites, cuts, and burns. Despite it all, there was something so fragile in their expression, an apology about to form on their tongue even though they’d done nothing wrong.

He pulled their face to his and kissed them. He kicked his jeans all the way off and rolled them until they were under him. He thumbed the thick scar on their side. He had seen it before and they had shrugged and told him it was a car accident. It was strange how similar it felt to the one on his chest, like they’d been in the same wreck somehow. “You’re gorgeous,” he exhaled.

Darlin laughed, voice husky with want and naked thigh rubbing his hip. “You’re blood drunk.”

Sam hummed at that, leaning down to kiss them again. “Your blood feels amazing, but just being with you feels incredible.” He touched the side of their neck, fingering that crescent of clean skin cutting through scars. He hoped they didn’t hate it when they realized he’d healed them, but he couldn’t leave a scar on them. It would have killed something in him that was still somehow alive. “Thank you for trusting me, Darlin.”

Heat flushed their face, their pulse ramping up and their whole body twitching.

Sam laughed. Someday, they were going to be able to accept gratitude and compliments. He would personally make it his mission to desensitize them to it. He leaned in and kissed them again, reveling in how their arm curled around the back of his neck and their body pressed up against his, like they would never be able to get close enough. Their legs curled around his hips, rubbing them together until he was groaning into their kiss. Their hand twisted in the back of his hair. “Sammy…” It was between a whine and a growl and it sent an ache through his entire body.

He reached down between them, teasing until they bit at his lip in warning frustration. “How do you want to do this?” he asked, his mouth so close to theirs that he barely had to whisper to know they would hear him.

“Like this. Just like this,” they almost pleaded, squirming, thighs squeezing his hips. The naked want in their voice was so different from anything they showed anyone else that it sent a thrilled from his head to his heart to his dick.

He went slowly, despite their hands trying to pull at his sides and his shoulders. At first it was to make sure he didn’t hurt them, but then it was just to rile them up and make the moments last longer. They were incredible and he was sure, no matter how long he got with them, he would never forget the way they looked on his bed, almost blissed out, so close to the edge and biting back a plea for more—because Darlin wouldn’t beg. They would swear and threaten and even whine, but not beg. And Sam would never try to make them, because he could see how much they wanted him. He could feel it in the air and their touch, hear it in their pulse, and smell it on their skin.

This time, when they came apart, they bit his shoulder. They didn’t break skin but the pressure and surprise of it drove him over the edge with them.

He dropped to the side, their legs still tangled, and curled his arms around them to pull them against his chest. They shivered and pressed a smile into his neck. “Next time…” they started to say before hesitating.

Sam smiled. “Next time…” he prompted them to go on, because yes, there would be a next time. Yes, they could assume that.

“If you bit my thigh… Would it be as good as my neck?” the question was quiet but mischievous and pressed into the skin under his jaw.

Sam groaned at the idea, holding them tighter. “Next time is coming up real fast if you keep saying things like that…”

Darlin bit softly at neck. “Is that a yes?”

Sam rolled them, kissing them when they were under him again. “That’s a hells yes, Darlin.”

#redacted fanfic #darlin/sam #got a little steamy!#i know i'm in the weird time zone and most of you are asleep #will repost later for time zones #hope you enjoy it!#<3 #dominimoonbeam

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certifiedzetamoment · 9 months

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As part of the FFXIV swap meet event, I drew @driftward's character Zoisette! She was really fun to paint, and it was good to stretch my digital muscles again.

#ffxivswap #cryptid tag #hope you enjoy it!

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drrav3nb · 1 year

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The Way To A Woman's Heart

Synopsis: Since the opening of their new restaurant, Sydney has been plagued with nightmares of her catering business combusting into flames, to the point where she can no longer focus. But after she goes out to complete an errand and also to give herself a breather, she's surprised to find a path of rose petals leading into The Bear's dining area, along with the aroma of a familiar scent...

Read the fic here

#the romantic dinner I hope we get in season 2 #had so much fun writing this fic #and making this gifset #hope you enjoy it!#sydney x carmy #sydcarmy #carmen x sydney #carmy x syd #syd x carmy #the bear fx #the bear fic #the bear fanfiction #the bear #sydney adamu #carmen berzatto #sydney x carmen

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n0brainjustvibes · 6 months

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hey i wanted to check out these vorgosian books you mentioned but i’m confused by the reading order. What book do you recommend for someone to start with?

I started with The Warrior's Apprentice (well, technically I started with the omnibus Young Miles, which includes that), which is the first book starring Miles Vorkosigan, so I'd recommend that one if a Taylor- and Kaladin-adjacent protag appeals to you! There are some books set earlier, and they can also be read in chronological order, but I'm afraid I don't know that order offhand. (If anyone does, please feel free to add on - tagging @starfishlikestoread and @ginmeister because they both know more about the series than me 😅 if you feel like elaborating, we would appreciate your wisdom!)

#hope you enjoy it!#the vorkosigan saga

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chillbean3210 · 6 months

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Day 21 of Lotftober!

Yes, I know that’s it’s over now but I was planning on posting this for Day 21 a while back (I even posted a WIP a while back) but due to me being constantly busy, I couldn’t post it in time 😭 So I figured that I’d post it now

When I first read Lord of the Flies, I found this scene to be really sweet. Before, I wasn’t really understanding the book (it’s way too descriptive at times 😅) but when I read this scene, I really liked it. Ralph and Simon were the characters I liked the most, so I figured I’d draw this scene for the day

I really wish I could have finished this in time but it’s here now and that’s all that matters I suppose

I'm writing this because I just wanted to say that I truly appreciated being able to have the opportunity to post my art <3

I don’t have a problem with my artstyle but I always think it’s too cutesy and I get shy whenever sharing it with people I don’t know. So sharing a piece of art of the boys was definitely a big step (especially since I had drawn the 4 boys in one go)

But people actually liked it, so it made me want to create more and the more I created, the more people liked it. It was a bit of a surprise for me. I know that 15 or 21 likes isn’t a lot to others but for a small blogger like me, it’s huge. I’m pretty sure the gender bent one I made is the one that has the most likes thus far

Even though I was constantly busy, I still had so much fun drawing the boys and participating in this event. I just wish I could have participated more! It was nice seeing the official lotftober account reblogging the artwork I made. Even one of my favorite artists reblogged my art! (When I got the notification that they reblogged my genderbent artwork, I was so happy!)

It really helped me gain more confidence in my cutesy artstyle and made me see that people do indeed like it. I want to improve of course, but I’m now more content with the way I draw

I don’t know if I’ll ever post more art soon, but I’d definitely love to post more in the future!

From the bottom of my heart, thank you to everyone who liked my art and gave this little blogger some attention 🩷🩷

Also shoutout to my recent followers who came in during the lotftober event, you guys are awesome! Also shoutout to the people behind lotftober, you guys are awesome as well!

Once again, thank you all ❤️

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aaronofithaca05 · 1 month

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Listening to my own playlist, I have found an oldie that´s the embodiment of OdyxPen 8while Odysseus is trying to get home, this Is Penelope´s mind every night !!(*￣3￣)╭, sorry it´s in Spanish but i will translate it to the best of my abilities

It´s a spanish song from La Oreja de Van Gogh sung by Amaia Montero from 2003.

youtube

Translated lyrics

A coffee with a pinch of salt Wanting to cry My world began to trembled I feel the end is near I don´t want to win, what does it matter I´m tired of inventing excuses unable to walk And only yesterday´s good moments made by the two will remain And today I only want to believe That you´ll remember winter´s afternoons in Madrid Full sleepless nights Live marched on and I felt that I was dying of Seeing you seated at my entrance without thinking You could can count on me There was never malice only ingenuity Pretending us to believe that the world was under our feet When the sleep comes to me in silence I will make A coulourfull life where the two of us can live And only yesterday´s good moments made by the two will remain And today I only want to believe That you´ll remember winter´s afternoons in Madrid Full sleepless nights Live marched on and I felt that I was dying of Seeing you seated at my entrance without thinking You could can count on me (2x) Life´s moving on and I´m dying, dying for you…

For me this is Penelope´s own monologue, trying to stay afloat, clinging to the idea of Odysseus getting home, and the last lines meaning how she´s internally breaking T T. Change Madrid to Ithaca and the coffee with salt to honey, mead or something.

Sometimes a pinch of salt is used to get rid of coffee´´s bitterness so is a metaphor of trying to relieve herself from the anguish she is enduring.

Don´t worry Ody didn´t forgets her, ( couple goals if I´ve seen one in my life)

#OdyxPen #Odysseus #Penelope #20 year long love #Puedes contar conmigo #music from the 2000´s #Aaron´s playlist :D #Amaia Montero #Spanish gems #Youtube #Hope you enjoy it!#Write me if you want more like this #I have plenty hahahaha

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blametheeditor · 4 months

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A New Year

Run Down: To continue the tradition, a special New Year drabble to kick off 2024, curtesy of Scott

Content Warnings: Cursing, mentions of death, mentions of treating people as lesser than, mentions of fireworks and the fear of fireworks

Happy New Year!

_______________

Scott wanted to see the new year countdown.

At first, the thought made him jolt, admittedly startled by it. Because he hadn’t wanted to ‘do’ anything for years. He didn’t think too much of it, though. Easily brushed it aside to forget about it.

Yet it appeared again about a week later. At least this time it wasn’t as random and because he heard someone talking about new year resolutions, but it still made him jump again. Wary of it.

Yes, he knows he’s paranoid. Just because he has a desire doesn’t mean Afton knows he does. Or anyone for that matter. And this wasn’t something that would automatically warrant punishment.

...actually, what was he afraid of?

If he was being honest with himself, Afton wouldn’t care. Having Scott stay up until midnight doing reports wasn’t uncommon, not in the slightest. Nor was giving him a task that required going to the restaurants early in the morning despite giving such an assignment the night prior. Therefore if Scott did stay awake, he’d only really be hurting himself. So being worried about what Afton would say or do is out of the question.

Maybe it’s because of the fact he lives near a giant neighborhood. That’s certainly a reason to not step foot out of his house until every firework has gone off. He can’t light his own in the street, because that would need to be done after the sun set, and give plenty of time for a fountain the size of his house to be lit much too close. Risking his hearing and his sanity.

But even then, there are parks holding events that are meant to be human and giant friendly. Honestly it pissed Scott off that there are fireworks that can be lit that are giant-sized but extremely human friendly. As in won’t make them go deaf. Not to mention numerous spots for giants to go to light the ones that aren’t.

That would mean he has to go somewhere, however. Still risk his hearing if he gets back home and some teenager is still going through a mountain of screamers despite it being an hour after midnight. Sit on a patch of grass to watch a large clock slowly tick the seconds down while a giant could easily step beside him and possibly never know he was there in the first place. Watch the firework show that could take who knows how long and still make him wince from the noise because they’ll always boom because that’s just what they do.

It’d be a hassle, and he’d be alone, and what is there to-

Well, Scott figured out why he was fighting it.

So he thoroughly crumpled up the idea before burning it to ashes inside of his mind. Not wanting to think about how, no matter what year it is, he’ll always be right where he was the previous one. Nothing was ever going to change. Why would that be something he celebrates.

Of course, he forgot about what was different this year. The one they’re still in for a few more days. One that is quite dramatic in reminding him as a shoe steps directly in front of him.

“Hey, Phone Guy.”

Scott tilts his head back in order to meet Mike’s smirk tens of feet above him. One he could never find in himself to truly be afraid of despite being unable to stand the thought of being inside a giant’s hand.

He whacks at the shoe to say hello. “Are you being kept a little longer to cover for the day guard?”

“No, my ass was waiting for yours,” Mike begins. The giant then kneels down, Scott being treated with the feeling of the sky falling as he takes a few respectful steps back. “Jerber wants to fuck shit up on New Years. Want to goddamn join?”

If it had been anyone else, Scott would’ve declined. Either assuming it was a prank or knowing something would happen, but this is Mike. The one guard who looked for him in the back rooms. Who appreciated his Godawful tapes rather than despising him for them.

But while Mike would have no ill-intent, nor Jeremy for that matter, he’s guaranteed not the only one being invited. “Who else is joining?”

The giant shrugs. “We’re asking every asshole and using Jerber’s puppy eyes to get the bastards to come. But you can fucking stay with me, Phone Guy.”

He can trust that promise. And this is one of the few giants he trusts with his life. And...maybe he should go to watch the countdown.

“Count me in.”

“Hell yeah. Meet us here two goddamn hours before shit explodes.”

Scott smiles as he shakes his head fondly. Watches the giant stretch back into the air before making his way out the door to head home. Leaving the older man feeling like he made the wrong choice. Because there’s no telling what could happen.

But he doesn’t text Jeremy plans had changed. Doesn’t think about how he deliberately dressed in warm clothes for the first time that winter as he walks to Freddy Fazbear’s.

Feels himself tense up when he sees David of all people walking toward the restaurant. Becomes a little less tense when he spots a certain redheaded figure clinging to the top of the business man’s suit pocket.

“Hi, Scott!” Fritz waves.

David raises an eyebrow as he searches the ground, eyes widening when he finally spots Scott. “Well look who William finally allowed to have a night off.”

Surprisingly, the dab doesn’t upset him. Maybe it’s because he’s gotten used to it over the several months since David had been hired. Maybe it’s because Eggs suddenly flings himself at the older man, almost making both of them fall to the ground.

“Scott, you made it!” The blond then shoots a sneer up at David. “That’s a hundred bucks, Harrison!”

“I’ll hand it over later.”

“Sore loser.”

“Did Eggs win a bet over Scott joining us?” James asks before Scott can snap at both of them. Instead he’s forced to look up over his shoulder at the doctor looking thoroughly amused.

“Do not encourage them.”

“I would’ve bet with him, but he didn’t want to share the winning pot.”

This was a terrible idea. Watching the countdown with Mike and Jeremy is one thing, but having all of the guards join? Especially when James tends to match Eggs’ energy when there isn’t an emergency? David automatically assuming he wouldn’t be joining?

Scott feels the heat before he sees the hand, but it’s unmistakable. He can’t scream, though, the sound lodged in his throat. He’s too panicked to realize Eggs isn’t with him, set on struggling so he’s let go.

“Hey, Phone Guy.”

Just like that he goes limp at Mike’s voice being the one that rumbles through his very core. He’s still terrified wants to tell the younger man to let him go, but he’s no longer fighting for his life. Stares up at blue eyes and a genuine smile.

“Sorry, asshole, don’t know how to fucking get you up to my shoulder.”

Scott doesn’t protest as the hand does exactly that, moving toward the giant and where Jeremy sits huddled against the man’s neck, the stuttering guard extending his arms out as fingers carefully maneuver until they’re in place.

Before the hand can fully retreat, he whacks at the nearest finger as hard as he can, hissing when the giant’s body heat burns his skin without any barrier. “Michael!”

“I’m sorry, asshole move.”

“Sc-Sc-Scott,” Jeremy murmurs before he can continue on giving the giant a piece of his mind, forcing him to focus on the kid watching him with worry. “You’re c-c-c-cold.”

He doesn’t correct the reason on why he’s trembling, not wanting anyone to know just how genuinely terrified he was at being grabbed. Didn’t want them to know his ‘look don’t touch’ rule is due to much more than just demanding respect.

“I’ll, uh, w-warm up soon,” is all he can say as he moves closer to Jeremy. Needing to ground himself. A bit overwhelmed by the heat surrounding him all because he’s sitting on Mike’s shoulder.

Scott freezes when he realizes everyone’s watching him, forcing a glare until Mike turns so he can’t see them anymore, cursing under his breath when he feels the footsteps jostling him. “Let’s go, assholes!”

“Hang on!” David exclaims as he quickly matches Mike’s pace, Scott moving closer to Jeremy as the taller giant looks down at them. “You let the Fucked Up Night Guard pick you up?”

“No,” Scott immediately responds. “That was the first time he pulled something like that. And the last.”

“It’s not a right of passage?” James pipes up from what sounds like Mike’s right side.

“I thought it was,” Eggs agrees.

“It is not a right of passage!”

Scott doesn’t care if he sounds or looks like a toddler having a tantrum as he refuses to look anywhere but ahead. Arms crossed and mouth sealed. He will not have them thinking being able to pick him up is some perk that you get once you’ve worked under Afton long enough.

He does glance up at Mike when the shoulder deliberately shrugs, leaving him falling into Jeremy as the kid squeaks as he falls against the giant’s neck. “Sorry, Phone Guy. That was fucked up, I should’ve asked.”

Scott hesitates before sighing. “I forgive you, Michael.”

“So if I-?”

“No.”

There’s no more discussion on the subject of picking him up thank God, but despite the rocky beginning to the night, it’s...nice. Listening to the others bicker. Eggs demanding David starts carrying human sized cash around. David shooting back Eggs can’t carry around giant sized cash so why should he. The blond nearly getting swiped off James’ shoulder at the comment the business man rarely wins a bet.

Scott notices Jeremy somehow managed to fall asleep when he jolts awake at Mike announcing ‘we’re here’.

‘Here’ is a park that’s not nearly as busy as he thought. With a cheap clock what hadn’t seen the light of day for an entire year ticking down where it was assembled at the top of a hill. Distinct sections made for giants and humans to ensure no one would get hurt even with the light poles barely being able to combat against the dark.

“Fritz, I will never forgive you for dragging me here.”

“Dude, can we roll down the hill!”

David sighs long and hard as Fritz immediately perks up from Eggs’ suggestion. But then Scott’s turned to. “Well, what’s the plan?”

It was Mike and Jeremy who invited everyone, but they remain silent when it becomes clear he has the final say. Even James moves so he can hear the eldest, Eggs looking like he’ll jump off the doctor’s shoulder at any second.

“Mike, what’s a good spot?”

The giant immediately makes his way over to a vacant table bolted into the ground near the base of the hill. It takes Scott a moment to notice the grass is incredibly short around it despite being meant for giants, meaning no human was going to get lost in it. And the table itself is one solid piece, no large spaces capable of falling through.

David only glares at it before sitting down, scooping Fritz out of his pocket in order to free the redhead into the grass unable to swallow him whole. “I expect you to not die by Eggs’ stupidity.”

“Bold of you to assume he hasn’t already,” Eggs taunts as James helps him to the ground.

“Don’t worry, Scott,” the doctor grins. “I’ll keep an eye on them.”

That did make him feel better. Even though they are fairly safe here. Scott never visited the hybrid park previous to tonight, but with a light pole shining directly overhead and this clearly having been built and maintained for both sizes, he wouldn’t have required a giant’s supervision.

He does eye Mike’s offered hand with suspicion as it waits palm up next to his occupied shoulder. Jeremy doesn’t hesitate to carefully stand up from where he was huddled, slowly climbing into the hand before looking up at Scott. “Are y-you coming?”

“Don’t move, Michael.”

The giant hums in agreement. Scott sighs before slowly stepping down beside Jeremy. Clenches his fists tightly as vertigo makes his stomach drop as they’re lowered onto the table. He couldn’t get off fast enough, panting slightly at the fear from such a sensation throwing him back to a life he only remembered glimpses of.

Bristles when he sees David watching him. “What?”

“You’re one of the strangest humans I have met,” the business man comments.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Scott grumbles.

That earns him a shrug. “I wouldn’t, but you’re all dumbasses, so I should’ve expected it.”

“So why the fuck do fireworks explode and shit?”

“The one time you ask a good question.”

Scott jumps as Jeremy suddenly latches onto him, looking down at the kid in concern as he shivers violently. “How do you survive, Jeremy?”

“D-D-D-Don't kn-know.”

It’s the one time he allows Mike to wrap a hand around him in order to help keep the cold night air away. It’s still suffocating, and Scott has to move a little so he’s not pressed against the burning skin, layers of protection unable to be foolproof. But Jeremy finally warms up enough that the shivers die down. Squeaks when Eggs and Fritz suddenly appear in order to join them.

“Do not roll down a hill at night. Grass is covered in dew.”

“We could’ve told you that.”

“Well James didn’t warn us!”

Said doctor only gives a knowing smile. “You have three giants-”

“Like I’m helping them.”

“-two giants who would be willing to help you dry off and stay warm afterwards.”

Isn’t that a weird thought. One Scott can’t shake at the idea of a giant being an alley instead of an obstacle. He used to rely on Vincent, used to be overjoyed by the fact a towering being was by his side, but that was years ago.

And it was something he would never get back. A life that is long gone.

...yet here he is, huddled with three other humans absorbing the heat of a giant who hasn’t once poked at them or swept them up without warning. Content to just act as a barrier between the cold wind and any other giant who would grab them without warning. Not in any way alone as he watches the seconds slowly tick down from 3, 2, 1.

Scott braces himself as the first firework appears in the sky, holding his breath as the line of smoke disappears before exploding.

...it sounded like a human sized firework.

He looks up in the sky. Stares at the colorful display much too big for him to fully comprehend. A picture he can’t see all of at once. Clearly made for giants, but it didn’t make the very ground shake or his ears burst.

He realizes his hand holding Fritz’s might’ve been a bit too tight, his knuckles white. But the minute he slowly lets go to ensure he doesn’t cut off the poor redhead’s circulation, his hand is gripped tighter. “D-Don’t let go. Please.”

Scott pulls the teenager into a full hug as Eggs and Jeremy huddle in closer. And with each boom he relaxes more and more that the world won’t shatter around him. For the first time in about twenty years able to just enjoy the spectacle. Not needing to huddle under ten blankets at home as he wore earplugs and praying it’s enough.

“I might prefer these better,” David murmurs, sounding like he’s upset to admit it.

“It’d certainly keep the ER from overflowing if these were more commonplace,” James agrees.

For Scott, it means he doesn’t start the year absolutely terrified. That instead of thinking the next day will never come, he’s enjoying the midnight sky lighting up with reds, and oranges, and purples. For once not despising something that’s meant to celebrate another year gone, and another one about to begin.

He almost feels ready for what’s going to come next.

“S-S-Sounds l-l-like a good start for a new y-y-y-year,” Jeremy whispers.

...it does, doesn’t it?

#Happy New Year!#my best friend said we needed a special New Year story for the bois and I couldn't help but agree #was definitely a nice semi-short story to write #don'ttelltheeditor #hope you enjoy it!#have a great day!#FNAF bois #g/t #giant #tiny #BTE writing #cw #content warning

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