#I just want to see him conk the fuck out and sleep so deeply

[fyodorloveclub]

⋆ SLEEPING ALONE? ⋆

headcanon ➫ BSD boys when they come home to find you sleeping with their clothes (ft. dazai, chuuya, akutagawa)

notes ➫ mostly gender neutral reader, 1 or 2 references to afab, some sex references

dazai

Dazai came home in the middle of the day because he got bored at work and he’s a fucking menace to society

You had spent the night and then stayed because you had the day off, were not expecting him to be home until later

(But honestly you should expect anything and everything from Dazai)

You had been picking up clothes that were thrown on the floor last night after some ~fun~

Picked up his button down and had this weird moment where you really missed him even though you just saw him, and he was coming home later

(You were probably about to start your period)

You laid back down with his shirt but accidentally fell asleep

(He kept you up very late)

Anyway, back to Dazai showing up

Evil laughs while he slips out his phone to take a pic that he would probably harass you with later

Re: menace to society

It does really warm his heart though, he absolutely adores you in every single way

He crouches down next to you and gently brushes your hair out of your face so he can press a little kiss to your forehead :”)

He jokes around and is a silly little man but truly no one has ever loved him as fiercely and deeply as you do

So he just sits next to you for a little bit, thinking abt this and how much he loves you back

He sighs before pulling back the covers and laying down with you, gathering you up all tight in his arms

You unconsciously toss the shirt to the side before fuckin bear hugging the poor man (still asleep, not much can wake you)

He sees you smile a little bit since you get to hug an actual Dazai :)

Realizes he absolutely cannot get up no matter what now, lest he disturb your slumber

Texts Kunikida that he can’t come back in for the day, puts his phone on DND because he knows its about to get absolutely blown up by the poor man who just wants to do his silly little job

Kisses your forehead a billion times before getting all comfy and falling asleep too :-)

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹

chuuya

Returns back to his apartment after a weeklong trip away on some sort of evil business trip who knows

He opens the door to his bedroom to see you sleeping in his bed, with one of his black trench coats wrapped around you

Slightly catches him off guard bc you don’t live together, but you obvi have a key so like not that weird

Laughs a silly little Chuuya chuckle before getting ready for bed himself

He doesn’t want to disturb you just yet

Idk I just love to imagine the boys and their silly little nighttime routines

I like to imagine Chuuya’s isn’t anything complicated but does take the time to brush his teeth, wash his face and moisturize (only uses the right things bc you bought them for him), and brush his hair before conking out

Makes his way over to the bed to gently shake you awake, whispering your name

Your eyes flutter open and take a second to take in the situation and the person waking you up

But as soon as you do, you’re wide awake and absolutely throw yourself onto the poor man who is probably very tired

He catches you but laughs, petting your hair as you squeeze the absolute shit out of him

“I’m so happy you’re finally home :’)”

“Me too, baby”

He asks why you have his coat wrapped around you, surely that cannot be comfortable to sleep in

Your cheeks heat up because you’re just a lil embarrassed

“I really missed you, and having your coat on felt like you were hugging me :(“

He feels both adoration because that’s so sweet, but sadness because he hated that him leaving you made you so sad

He pulls the coat off you and tosses it off the side of the bed

Pulls you into his arms and hugs you so tightly, bc damn he’ll be better than a stupid coat

You relax into the touch that you missed you so so much

You stick your hands up his shirt to feel his skin

He yelps because your hands are fuckin cold

“Is this better, my love?”

“So much better”

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹

akutagawa

Comes home after a long day with the pm to see you curled up on the couch, holding his t-shirt to your chest

(we’re assuming he has to own t-shirts I mean c’mon there’s no way he sleeps with that frilly ass blouse on)

You very clearly had been folding fresh laundry when you conked out

For a reason Akutagawa cannot understand his t-shirt comforted you enough to lull you into an accidental nap

(You knew why; he is cold to the entire world but an angel to you)

He’s annoyed at first, old Akutagawa kicking in where he does that thing of getting pissed at nothing

Reassesses the situation and actually realizes it’s very endearing

Still absolutely cannot grasp why you find so much comfort in him

He crouches down to try to take the shirt from you to wake you up so he can shoo you to bed (nicely, of course)

You have that shit in a death grip

He sighs the Akutagawa Sigh™

“Love, c’mon, let me take you to bed”

“hMppHHH, Ryuuu” (you are not roused easily)

He is finally able to wake your ass up

Takes you by the hand to lead you gently to the bedroom so he can put you to sleep, obvi with the intention of joining you

Must undress from earlier mentioned frilly ass blouse

That shirt will have to be pried from your cold dead fingers

Sheds frilly ass blouse, brushes teeth, makes last minute evil phone calls, etc, before crawling into the futon with you

As soon as he lays down with you, you immediately toss the t-shirt and throw yourself onto him

He does a little oof

- You wrap your arms around him and he does the same, pressing a kiss to your forehead

“Love, can I ask why you fell asleep with my t-shirt”

“Mmmmm, smells just like you. Dryer made it feel warm and cuddly like you.”

Aku hmmphs at the warm and cuddly part, but it secretly endears him

“But don’t need the shirt anymore, I got the real thing. Smells and warmth and all,” you whisper before nodding back off to sleep

You reach for him unconsciously and he pulls you even closer to him

Again he literally cannot grasp the concept of someone loving him for the entirety of who he is, but has come to accept it from you very gratefully

He has a very hard time saying it, but your love for his little things, something as small and specific as his scent (which he was not aware of), makes his heart swell with joy

Grinch moment where his heart grew 3 times its size or something

Will happily take the place of cuddled t-shirt any day <3

#didnt wanna post this rn but im gonna be gone #hence the shit theme #dazai x reader #chuuya x reader #akutagawa x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs imagines #sealed with a kiss ♡ #flora’s fics

[linkedkeysau-official]

Linked Keys Febuwhump

Days 6/7- Secrets Revealed & Time Loop (alt)

Mask knew he fucked up. He knew it before he even went through with the plan. He knew it was going to end badly, he knew it was going to make his dad furious… He probably wouldn't have been surprised if the Captain disowned him for it. He probably deserved it anyway… But it was his only choice. And it was for the greater good. And Mask had absolutely no problem making personal sacrifices for others.

Still… It hurt to be given the silent treatment like this. It would probably hurt less to be yelled at, which Mask hated. At least his father would be acknowledging him. This… Was awful. He wouldn't look at Mask, he wouldn't talk to him, he would ignore when the kid spoke… He even yanked the end of his scarf from the kid's hands when he tried to grab it to get his attention. And still didn't speak to him afterwards. 

The others noticed this behavior as well. They knew about the incident, in which Mask had mixed some of Legend's magic powder into Warriors' tea, leading to the Captain being conked out at camp while the others marched into battle without him. Some thought it was a prank gone wrong; Mask didn't know this would happen or that Warriors would react this way. Some thought it was just an honest mistake; the kid could hardly read any better than Hyrule could, he may have mistaken it for sugar. Warriors on the other hand, saw it as an act of betrayal, however. 

The Captain's trust issues were well known, as were Mask's. The Hyrulean army during the War of Eras had been riddled with traitors and spies, to the point where nobody knew who to trust, and putting your trust in the wrong person got you hurt or killed. Warriors was for sure overreacting, but he couldn't help it. He'd trusted the kid for so long. And then he pulls a stunt like this with no explanation.

It was not the first time Warriors had been given a drugged beverage by someone he thought was an ally, and to be honest he wasn't even sure this was the real Mask. But when he realized the kid had deliberately given him tea tainted with a substance that would put him to sleep like that, he suddenly found it impossible to trust the kid until he knew the full story. But right now he was too pissed to listen to him try to justify his actions. So he was simply not speaking to the kid. 

Everyone could see this was a problem, but nothing anyone said to Warriors changed his mind. The fact was: he felt he no longer knew his son, if  he ever knew him at all. Time was especially upset by this, though nobody was quite sure why, aside from what had everyone upset: seeing Mask so deeply hurt by his father's actions. But when the kid had run away after two days straight of utter silence, Time had to step in.

"You need to get over yourself Captain. Do you see what you've done? Mask is missing, and you don't even care." Time demanded

"He'll be back. He always comes back. A little time to think about what he's done would be good for him anyway." Warriors replied with so little emotion that it was terrifying. 

"This is utterly ridiculous. Are you even listening to yourself? He is your son!"

"And? No offense, Old Man, but don't tell me how to parent my child. He needs to know the consequences of—"

"I TOLD HIM TO DO IT!!" Time cut him off. 

"I...don't understand." Warriors' anger faded into confusion.

"I. Told him. To do whatever was necessary to keep you out of the fight. You obviously didn't listen to him the first few times when he tried to use his words. So he took matters into his own hands. It was not his fault. He didn't even want to do it."

"So why did he, huh? And why did you tell him to?" 

"Because it was the only way to save your life, Wars! Mask— I was trying to save you. Because I had seen you die, and failed to save you myself, so many times already. So I used the Song of Time to try again, and again, and again. I didn't want to get the kid involved. But after a while I realized he was likely the only one you might actually listen to if he told you to stay behind. So I asked him to do whatever he could to keep you out of danger." Time explained. Warriors was shocked, and suddenly felt appalled at his recent behavior. He'd gotten so wrapped up in the act itself that he didn't think about the motive… Or really who had committed it.

He'd hurt Mask… He'd treated his son like dirt these past few days, and it pushed him to run away, probably assuming he wasn't wanted anymore. Goddess, what had Warriors done…? 

“Go find him before he gets himself into danger out there alone, and talk to him like a normal person, not like a petty toddler.” Time ordered, “Hylia Almighty, you need a lesson in parenting…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I almost didn’t want to get you involved in this one,” Time had confessed a few nights ago.

“Why?” Mask asked, “...Who was it this time?” 

He’d known he was going to regret this… He thought it would be worth it, the risk of upsetting the Captain for the sake of keeping him alive. He knew the rule: no revealing to anyone what happened in the other timeline until after the event in question has passed, and only if absolutely necessary. Others knowing about it, especially the one you’re trying to save, could mess up the whole thing. Mask knew what he was potentially getting into by resorting to sabotage, and still he regretted it, because it only confirmed that he was right. He would always end up alone… History would always repeat itself; such was the curse of one who could turn back time at will.

So naturally, when the Captain came looking for him, the last thing Mask expected was forgiveness. And yet… As he stood with his back against the wall, cornered in fear and shame, he was met with the unexpected.

“Relax, Sprite. I’m… I’m not going to hurt you.” 

“Liar. Why wouldn’t you? I hurt you first… I b-betrayed your trust…!” 

“Listen to me, Sprite. See, I’m unarmed. I’m not going to hurt you.” Warriors set down his sword, which he'd only brought to defend himself against monsters he might encounter in the search for his son, who he’d found taking refuge in a small settlement nearby, “Look, Time told me what happened, and I am so sorry for the way I treated you. It was a huge misunderstanding, and I overreacted. You were just trying to help, and you were desperate… I know that now, and I feel so, so awful for thinking there was any malicious intent behind your actions.” He said, approaching slowly. Mask finally broke, sobbing as he leapt onto his father in a hug. The gesture was returned, with Warriors lifting the kid up off the ground, struggling to hold back tears himself.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you…!” Mask wailed, burying his face in his dad’s scarf, relishing in the fact that his comfort item wasn’t going to be ripped from his hands this time, “We– We’re not supposed to mention it to anyone when we go back in time…”

“It’s okay. You don’t owe me an explanation. Not anymore.” Warriors assured him. He carried the kid over to a nearby bench and sat down, “Just out of curiosity, Sprite… How long have you and Time been doing this? This… ‘going back in time’ stuff to prevent people’s deaths?” 

“S-Since Hyrule was poisoned… It was too close for c-comfort, so we realized w-we might have to intervene at s-some point…” Mask explained. Geez, the Sprite and the Old Man have been keeping this a secret for that long?! It’s been months since that happened! 

“A-And… How many times have you had to do it?” Warriors asked, scared of the answer.

“...Lost count.” Mask replied quietly. Oh fuck, no…

“Oh, Sprite… I’m sorry… You should have never had to go through this. That must have been awful, having to watch your friends die over and over again. Seeing it once is bad enough…” Warriors held him close again.

“S’fine. I’m… kinda numb to it by now…” the kid muttered.

“But you shouldn’t be. You shouldn't have to witness something like that, let alone enough times to be desensitized to it. I… Know I can’t stop you from continuing. But I want to help in any way I can. You can tell me anything. Okay? And I’ll trust you.” Warriors promised. Mask stared up at him, shocked at this response. Usually nobody took him seriously when he tried to warn them of coming events. It had become such a pattern by now, having to do it all himself with only Time to help (if that). 

Things really can change… He thought to himself. All this time, he’d seen his life and the way things always tended to repeat themselves, as nothing more than one big time loop. But… maybe… it didn’t have to be that way.

He wasn’t going to end up alone…

#linked keys #lk #febuwhump2023 #loz au #not lu #lk mask #lk warriors #lk time #mod kj

[crisis-on-infinite-batblogs]

Batman will be awake for 5 consecutive days and be like “I trained with such-and-such sect of monks in the secluded mountains of wherever, and by increasing the duration of my blinks by .035% I’ve eradicated the need for REM sleep.”

Meanwhile, Alfred is in the background loading a rifle with horse tranquilizers, muttering “Very good sir.”

#it would be so boring but I just want to read a story where Bruce takes a nap #I just want to see him conk the fuck out and sleep so deeply #I want him to wake up and not know what YEAR it is #bruce wayne #batman #alfred pennyworth

[leggerefiore]

may i request some sleeping headcanons with emmet? like how he gets ready, how quick he falls asleep, if hes a cuddler or not, that sorta stuff. (maybe also how willing/ready he is to "fool around" with his partner if theyre trying to make a move on him)

im sleepy from trying to read a textbook

▽Emmet△

○ He's honestly hard to settle down, but he has a hard bedtime. The twin buries himself in sheets at exactly 23:00:00 every night, or he dies. This may seem beneficial, but most mornings require him to out by 5:00:00. He's not restless as he's usually exhausted, so it's: open bedroom door, collapse onto bed, conk out of the waking world until alarm screeches. This is before you come into play, naturally. Usually, a pokemon of his would find their way into his bed and cuddle with him. Their affection is deeply appreciated by the Subway Boss. Most of his life was spent near or sharing a bed with Ingo, so he gets lonely easily. It will wake him up as his heart feels empty.

○ He brushes his teeth and takes his nine minute shower before bed. It's hilarious how fast he's quickly in and out. Some nights, he does stretches if he feels particularly sore from the day's activities. He checks on all his pokemon before bed, too. Everyone is accounted for and checked for any possible injuries. They each get a loving petting and cooing from the Subway Boss. He's a caring trainer, that's how he wins his battles.

○ After you're in the picture… His pokemon now have to cuddle around you to because he is clingy. It will get so bad he cannot sleep without holding you. Around ten minutes before bed, you'll notice him observing you to see if you're also getting ready to go lay down. If you're late, he's wandering to wherever you are to grab you. He's got lidded eyes and a deep frown. The first time you saw him like that you genuinely thought Ingo had let himself in. His arms around you while he whines about the bed being too cold. You need to come warm it up.

○ You're the little spoon most nights. The twin loves to curl his body around yours and hold your back to his chest. His hands wander and rub tenderly at you until your consciousness starts to fade. Soft kisses are peppered to your shoulder. It's all so comforting. The few times he's let you hold him ends up with you facing each other while his arms end up around you. He needs to hold you; it brings him reassurance.

○ You'll find his pokemon randomly join you both in the snuggling. Galvantula and Eelektross are the most likely invaders. Galvantula lies on either side of you or Emmet and just radiates heat and soft humming. When you wake up in the night, it never fails to help lull you back into slumbers waiting arms. Eelektross wraps their limbs around to both of you and vibrates as well. They feel protective over Emmet and you, so it's comforting to them to be wrapped around you both. The electric fish pokemon would never let harm befall you. Archeops curls up at the foot of the bed and is just happy to have beaten the electric types. (Durant sleeps on the floor and protects you both from a distance.)

sorta 18+ under cut, just be aware

○ If you start rubbing up against him for friction while cuddling in bed, Emmet is going to sigh. Why couldn't you have done this earlier? He's exhausted, not horny. Well, he's getting horny. Stops you and warns you if you fuck now, it's going to be a quickie and nothing like what he would prefer doing to you. Pout, and he may reconsider his statement. Keep teasing him, and you'll awaken something in him that leads to him shifting on top of you and restraining your wrists. His smile is mean, “Darling. If you want this so badly, then you're going to have to learn some patience.” Emmet and you enjoy some lovely orgasm denial that night. (Ingo remarks about how refreshed he seems the next morning. The younger twin smiles and says he's tired, actually.)

#emmet x reader #emmet/reader #pokemon emmet x reader #pokemon x reader #i think emmet is becoming my favourite twin this is bad #fuck someone send in something good in for ingo alone

[popculturebuffet]

Amphibia: Night Drivers/Return to Wartwood Review “Many Happy Returns”

Hello you happy people. And Amphibia is back and that means my reviews are back! As for why this reviews a bit late despite it leaking, I wanted to wait for today, and long story short both focused on finishing a review that WASN’T time senstive, instead of finishing it Sunday, and overestimated how much time i’d have to do two reviews on a day that included my first covid shot, grocery shopping, helping mom clean the car, and my friend coming over to watch Judas and the Black Messiah. Excellent film by hte way, as was the Sound of Metal which we watched after. Point is I done goofed and I will try to at the very least actually get the reviews of the episodes out on the same day they come out. 

But slip up or not i’m happy to be back in the saddle, and back to Wartwood. I’m pumped for the heavier second half, with more secrets to uncover, some zelda style temple action, and some heavy drama with just a whiff of keith david, as well as to see the supporting cast from Wartwood again after far too long. So how’d the mid-season premire pair fair? Join me under the cut to find out. 

Night Drivers: I was really excited by the Road Trip idea when first announced for season 2. A chance to expand the world and get the plantars out of their comfort zone was an amazing concept and it did lead to some really great stories and interesting locales.. mixed with episodes that had interesting locations but no interesting plot or character stuff. It was a mixed bag, and disappointing after close to a year’s wait to continue the plot that it really didn’t outside of “Toadcatcher”. Anne never really dealt with her trauma and the show never dealt with hop pop’s poularity or anything else. Again there were GOOD episodes and ideas but it felt like the show stalled for a good chunk of the season till we got to Netwopia which while still having tons of slice of life stuff felt a lot fresher with it, and had a lot more fun playing with stock plots and gave us a fresh new setting to dig into. 

So I was a bit hesitant to go back to the road for an episode.. even if it was just one episode. Thankfully I was very wrong there as Night Drivers was a pretty good episode and would fit well among the best of the road trip arc like “Truck Stop Polly” “Fort in the Road” “Anne Hunter” “Toadcatcher” and “Wax Museum”.

The plot is straightforward: Sprig and Polly are excited that their almost home to wartwood and if Anne and Hop Pop drive all night they’ll be there by morning. Polly will get pillbug pancakes and Sprig will see Ivy again. This is part of a long tradtion of “skiping over the journey home because we’re tired and we wanna go home” in fiction. Jokes aside it’s a resonable device used to prevent ending fatigue and in this case to free up episodes for the second half. We already saw the journey once, we usually don’t need to see it again. To Amphibia’s credit they have valid reasons for it: The journey is LITERALLY sped up, as Hop Pop and Anne have been driving for 20 hours straight.. and their on a timer. As was established last time.. well the last time that wasn’t a spooky halloween episode, The Plantars have to get back for the harvest and really don’t have time to sightsee, while they all have to be there for whenever Marcy comes back to take Anne to the first temple. They’ve also traveled these roads before so while their going a whole other directoin, they know what perils to avoid. 

But as anyone whose taken a long cartrip can tell you, you can’t shotgun it forever and the two eventually tap out with Hop Pop telling Sprig and Polly not to night drive as it’s dangerous and blah blah blah standard parental warning that will be swiftly ignored. So once Hop Pop and Anne are conked out they swiftly ignore it after we get their dreams.. which are the best gags of the episode: Hop Pop has a dream with weird, really cool looking monsters that represent his faults, only for it to turn Lucid and him to start flying and take his shirt off and whip it around Muscle Man style. 

While Anne’s is about a yogurt world where there’s only one flavor... BLACK LICORICE. Yeah it quickly turns from Shopkins to the Lich From Adventure Time really fucking quick. 

So while Anne has a nightmare and Hop Pop becomes unto a god, Sprig and Polly drive all night, repreadtly running into a creepy hitchiker and realizing it is as dangerous as they said with bolders, even worse creatures than usual because of course theye’d be a lot of nasty things lurk in the dark why wouldn’t they on froggy death world, a nightmarish fog and nearly dying on said foggy road they took to evade the hitchiker. Naturally the scary hook handed hitchiker.. is a friendly one, simply trying to help them and saving them from going over a cliff. They do make it three miles from Wartwood and Hop Pop wakes up angry to find they disobeyed him.. but Anne gets him to back off as they clearly learned their lesson from the sleep deprviation and nearly dying, and our heroes head for home. 

Night Drivers isn’t an exceptional episode, but it is decent and still does belong with the other good road trip episodes, with some good dream sequences and a nice dynamic between Sprig and Polly. It was nice to have an episode with the two that was good unlike Quarallers Pass which made me want to run full speed into my nearest wall until I was given the sweet gift of unconciousness. While the Hook Handed man thing was a bit obvious it lead to some great gags. It’s a nice breather after the tearjerking mid-season finale and while we’ve obviously had months and a haloween episode between that, the creators rightfully realized a lot of people will be binging the series in the future. The issue I had with the first quarter of the season was it was ALL break and only a little plot progression. Here we’ve had a lot of plot progression in the last episode chronlogically, and are going to have a lot in the coming episodes with ‘After the Rain” coming next week. It’s nice to take a break and see the forest for the hook handed ghosts.

Return to Wartwood: I was excited and terrified of this one. I was excited because I missed the supporting cast from season one, mostly Ivy and Maddie, and was delighted to see them again in full. But I was also worried the show might pull out a melancholy breakup plot and having gotten attached to Ivy/Sprig and Hop Pop/Sylvia I was worried. And I was delightfully wrong as instead it’s another breather episode and an utterly fantastic one after the simply decent one above. 

Our heroes return, without being drawn by rob liefield or replaced by the Squadron Supreme first, and are happily greeted by the town. Aformentoined fears died a happy death as Sylvia squeezes Hop Pop and as for Sprig, Ivy unsuprisingly ambushes him. Everyone’s back and the Mayor, who I also badly missed is back using Toadie as a gong to get everyone back to buisness, with Swampy inviting them for a big dinner at his diner that night to celebrate and welcome them back.. and to give out their gifts. 

Sprig and Anne are equally confused while Polly and Hop Pop are sweating bullets. Turns out when they got the Fwagon they agreed to get a bunch of stuff for the town and forgot and now everyone’s on the hook for it and want to lie their butts off to solve it. In a nice show of character development, Anne has learned that the lying never solves anything “I think we’ve learned that lesson by now”. After SO many plots of the characters lying and it going terribly, it’s nice to have someone speak up. Sprig also wants to lie but only becuase he’s deeply afraid Ivy will break up with him as she wanted a Red Sun shell to go with the blue moon shell she gave him. Awwww. And oh crap. 

So our heroes head home to plan and kick Chuck out (“I grew tulips”). So they do the natural thing... and decide to summon an edltich beast from the necronomicon... which of course Maddie gave Sprig as a present (”Aww that’s nice”. Agreed Polly, agreed.). I also can’t help but love the line “We’re all cull with practicing the dark arts to solve our problem right?” So our heroes get the proper summoning horn, thing to go with the horn and some candles.. i’ts not part of the ritual but Anne says it helps with ambience and it’s right. 

So our heroes summon the Chikalisk, an edltich god that’s naturally basalisk in all but name, which dosen’t attack unless attacked and goes after gold. So they fake some golden presents, and the beast attacks at the party.. but the town naturally fights back, and our heroes are forced to help fight the monster as it stonifies people. So we get a truly glorious battle sequences as the whole town shows off how badass they are, with Maddie curing people, Sylvia showing she can keep up with Hop Pop and Ivy showing her already established badass bonafieds. It’s just awesome. Also the Mayor uses Toadie as a shield not realizing he’s turned to stone which can only remind me of this. 

Once the townsfolk are freed they get into Chickalisk formation (”We have a formation for that?” “We have a formation for everything!”) And it’s offended enough to just nope out. The townsfolk are depressed though the presents got destroyed and Anne glares the family into coming clean. And while the mayor seems mad at first... he just laughs with everyone taking it in stride: It was boring without them getting into trouble and learning lessons every week, and they missed them.  Ivy likewise dosen’t care about a gift she just missed her boyfriend.. and asks Sprig to take her on a proper date and smooches him on the cheek leaving both him and Anne catatonic, with Polly dragging Anne away and sprig just falling over before Maddie hits him with the potion. It dosen’t work that way, end episode. 

Return To Wartwood was a standout episode, with tons of great jokes, pacing and a nice plot that showed growth in anne. While Night Drivers was decent, this was the show at it’s : Sweet, deranged and adventurous all in one episode. While Night Drivers was a good appitizer this was one hell of an entree. Or an appetizer sampler which I often use as an entree. Great episode and a nice high note to start on. 

Next Time: We get an Ivy focused episode!

And Hop Pop is finally forced to own up to his lies!

As the twin kermits sooth you if you liked this review, follow me for more, check the amphibia tag for more reviews from this season and join me on patreon. If I get another patreon, i’ll add reviewing season 1 to my 25 dollar stretch goal so look out for that and my next one at 20 dollars, only 5 dollars away, nets a monthly review of a darkwing duck episode. Check it out and i’ll see you at the next rainbow. 

#amphibia #night drivers #return to wartwood #anne boonchuy #sprig plantar #hopidiah plantar #polly plantar #ivy sundew #maddie flour #sylvia sundew #mayor toadstool #disney channel #disney #animation #amphibia spoilers

[theres-a-goldensky]

26 + 2 Various BL Series Fic Recs

Fandoms included in this fic rec list: Love By Chance, TharnType, Until We Meet Again, My Engineer, 2 Moons, HIStory3: Trapped (plus a bit of bonus Theory of Love and WHY R U?)

I’ve found a handful of good fics for all of these tiny pairings that I am newly obsessed with, and I thought I’d share them with you if you’re also looking for something good to read. Please, if you have recs of your own, point me in the direction of any other good stuff!

As ever, feel free to reblog and check out my other rec lists for the following fandoms:

The Untamed list one and two - various pairings, mostly Wangxian

IT chapter 2 list one and two - Reddie 

Good Omens - Aziraphale/Crowley

Or just head over to my bookmarks on AO3.

(All recs are complete) (I’ve noted pairings, length, and rating, but not any warnings or additional tags.)

** denotes personal favorite

LOVE BY CHANCE / THARNTYPE

1. the count up series by sweetiejelly - Tin/Can - ~34,000 words, explicit - A fix-it fic post-canon where Tin and Can slowly work out their issues with some missteps and learning along the way.

So two weeks later, when Can first does it, Tin doesn't know what to do. For the longest while, he just turns off his phone screen. And then turns it back on.

good night, tin. it's been a while but i promised to say good night. so, good night, sleep well.

Every damn time the text is still there.

In the end, Tin deletes it.

The next morning, Can does it again.

good morning, tin. looks like rain today. don't forget your umbrella.

Tin deletes it.

The texts keep coming.

2. ** LBC Aftermath series by Mara - LBC/TharnType crossover- ~6700 words, mature - Were you too horrified by Techno’s ending in LBC? This author feels your pain and did her part to get some justice for Techno. This fic has zero sympathy for Kengkla, which I deeply appreciated. This will help you work out some of your anger. It features LBC!Techno and the TharnType versions of Tharn and Type. Mind the warnings, since this deals with the serious consequences of Kengkla’s actions.

Kengkla stayed at the house through the morning and Techno was so jumpy he nearly leaped out of his skin every time Kla looked at him or talked to him. Even though Kla had explained what happened and how he wasn’t upset to be dating, Techno still felt weird. He kind of wished he remembered what had happened. A guy should remember how he lost his virginity, right?

Kla grabbed him in a big hug and Techno froze, managing a weak grin when Kla pulled back to smile at him. “I’ve got to go home now. But I’ll call you later. Let me know if you go somewhere.”

“O-okay.” Techno stared as the boy let himself out the front door.

3. 5 + 1 by strokeofluck - Tin/Can- ~3600 words, rated general - This is a sweet story about the times when Pete sees Tin having feelings for Can. 

Pete weighed his options as he glanced back and forth between Tin and Can. Can didn’t seem to be bothered by the whole thing, he even had a shy smile on his face. Or at least, Pete thought it was a shy smile, he had never really seen this kind of expression coming from Can before.

He could let this whole thing go, he supposed, but he didn’t really want to. It was time for him to finally say to Tin: I told you so.

“You were born in Bangkok,” he said, casting a wide net and hoping Can would find himself caught in it.

Can did.

4. That Testified Surprise by Mara - Techno/Tharn/Type - ~7000 words, mature - This is a LBC canon rewrite that stars the TharnType version of all three characters. Type realizes something is not...quite...right with Kengkla and invites Techno to stay with him and Tharn instead of going home drunk.

Pouring Techno into the passenger seat, Type sat down in the driver’s seat and pulled the phone out to check it, entering the passcode. (The passcode was the birthday of Thai national football team captain Siwarak Tedsungnoen, of course. Duh.)

Fuck, it looked like Nic had been either texting or calling every 20 minutes since they got to the bar. What was up there?

Scrolling back through the evening’s texts, Type scowled harder. Loving brother or not, this was fucking creepy. Going back farther, it looked like it was a pattern. Did the kid do anything other than pester his brother about his whereabouts?

THARNTYPE

5. everything he wants by minkit - ~5100 words, explicit - Type accidentally ruins one of Tharn’s shirts and agrees to do whatever Tharn wants to make up for it. Which means it’s porn stretched over the bare bones of a plot, and it’s great. 

Tharn’s hands moved across the bed, slowly, inch by inch and it was frustrating because Type knew they were heading to him, but Tharn took his sweet time. And then they were covering his hands and Tharn’s face was mere centimeters from his and Type could barely breathe. It took everything he had not to lean forward and capture those lips that also belonged to him, but he had a feeling if he tried, Tharn wouldn’t let him. He had that look on his face and Type knew what it meant.

He knew he was in for a long rest of the night.

6. You’ve Got Mail by perthbysaint - ~7800 words, explicit - Type sends Tharn nudes at the most inconvenient times.

A selfie? From Type? Tharn was thanking all of his lucky stars as he happily taps to load the image. The picture loads and Tharn’s phone slips from his suddenly lax grip. Convinced he couldn’t have just seen what he thought he just saw, he picks his phone up hastily and stares very intently at the picture.

It’s a mirror selfie, obviously taken in a changing room, but that thought comes secondary to thighs. Type is holding the camera in front of his face to take the picture, shirt clenched in his other hand and pulled up slightly to show off the shorts. The fucking shorts. He had seen Type in his soccer gear before and yes, Type has most definitely asked for the wrong size and Tharn is more grateful than he’s ever been for anything in his whole life. The shorts are riding up so high they can’t cover more than a few inches of skin, Type’s smooth, powerful thighs on full display. On the inside of his left thigh, there’s a tiny purple mark peeking out from under the bottom of the shorts. Tharn knows exactly what it is because he was the one who left it there just two days ago when he sucked marks into Type’s thighs for a half-hour before he slung Type’s legs over his shoulders and ate him out until Type was sobbing fat tears and begging Tharn to let him come.

7. pet names series by LokelaniRose - ~50,000 words, explicit - A series of post-episode fics that gives us the sex that the show only hinted at, starting with the shower scene.

Tharn prides himself on his self-control. All his passion and intensity is saved for his music, when he’s safely behind a drum kit and can let it all out. He’s never been as irritated by anyone else as he is by Type and all his playground bullying nonsense. Something about the other boy just shakes something loose inside him, rattles at Tharn’s iron discipline until he has to grit his teeth constantly not to just – what? Kiss him? Kill him? Tharn has enough composure (and pride) to put up a front that’s all smiles and wry amusement, but really he regularly skips between one of two daydreams – twisting Type’s head off or fucking him into the ground.

(Tharn is absolutely not going to admit to the third set of daydreams, of curling up around Type when he’s cold or cheering him on at matches or bringing him home to meet Tharn’s father. Nope, no, definitely not.)

2MOONS SERIES

8. ** The universe where we do not commit reckless, unlubricated buttsex by startledoctopus - Forth/Beam - ~8700 words, explicit - This is a great story about Beam giving in and trying to seduce Forth the same way he seduced all of those girls in his past. This Forth is great, and the story retcons their first time to something far more pleasant for Beam.

   "We're heading into a unit on disorders of the spine and I need to review my basic skeletal and muscular anatomy. But it feels stupid to keep studying these weird-looking diagrams and drawings." None of this was, strictly speaking, factual, but an engineering major wouldn't know any different. Beam gathered up all his bravado, walked behind Forth, and began rucking up his shirts as if this were completely normal.

   "What! I..."

   "Shut up, I need to look at a real back so I know what I'll be looking at as a doctor." Forth let him take the shirts off, glancing back at him several times but giving in meekly to Beam's stern look. Forth shuffled the papers some more.

   "All right. Okay, um...Ah!" Beam smirked at Forth's reaction as he ran his thumbs down the nape of his neck.

9. Good Things Come To by sweetiejelly - Ming/Kit - ~4300 words, explicit - Kit gets drunk and reveals more of his feelings for Ming than he probably means to.

"Hmm." Kit closes his eyes and leans his head back on the headrest. "Ming, Ming, Ming. Do you know your name's a kiss? I'm kissing the air everytime I say 'Ming'!" Kit pops his mouth and it pops Ming's mind a bit. "And then I think about kissing you. Why do you make me think about you so damn much? You're so annoying, Ming. No one's ever..." and Kit leans to the side, almost like he's going to conk out or throw up, only to straighten back up. "... made me this crazy."

Oh shit. Ming doesn't know what to do with all of this information. He knew somewhere deep down that Kit likes him. Kit's eyes can't lie. Kit's mouth can't either, the cusses coming out whenever he's keyed up and flustered, and then there are his kisses.

10 + 11. ** how to fail flirt your way into his heart (a guide by Kit) and a little conversation (and a little action please) by sweetiejelly - Ming/Kit - ~30,000 words, explicit in the second part - This story makes a tiny plot divergence. It has Kit put a little more effort into finding out if Ming is really into Yo and then from there, it loosely follows the plot of the show with some key differences. I really enjoyed this.

"Can I have your number?" Kit mentally face-palms. Why? Damn Pha. Damn Beam. Just damn everything, ugh. He has never flirted in his life. Pin asked him out, okay? He doesn't know how to do this. "I'm Kit, Phana's friend," he says, trying to make it less weird.

"I'm Ming. And of course, P'Kit!" Ming flashes him an easy grin and holds out his hand.

Oh right, the phone. Kit shoves it at Ming, nearly hitting him in the chest. Great, he's acing this.

Ming smiles at him, bemused or confused, probably both, and brushes his hand, totally unnecessarily, over the back of Kit's hand as he takes the phone. "In case of emergency, right?" Ming looks up at him from under his lashes and boy, this nong is brazen.

12. ** In Control series by LokelaniRose - Ming/Kit - ~27,000 words, explicit - Kit struggles to tell Ming that he wants something other than the careful, gentle sex they’ve been having. Ming discovers that Kit has some anxiety and panic problems. He also discovers what helps him feel better. [spoilers: these two things are connected.] I love how attentive and caring Ming is throughout this series. The anxious Kit also rings true to the character we saw on the show.

But now that Kit is fretting over things, he might as well fret over this as well. So Ming is great in bed. And let’s be honest, Kit probably isn’t. He hasn’t had a hundred previous partners – okay, tiny exaggeration, but still – and doesn’t know all the fancy moves and techniques and tricks…and just like everything else, in bed Ming is somehow casual and sincere at the same time. He never seems to want anything except what Kit wants, is always happy to do whatever, to take his time making slow, gentle love to Kit. Kit knows that he always comes at least – he secretly really likes it when Ming comes, he’s not quite sure why – but what if there’s more that Kit could be doing, to make it better for him? If Kit was better in bed maybe it would make up for being a shitty boyfriend in other areas, one who can’t be nice in public or talk about his feelings.

UNTIL WE MEET AGAIN

13. another nightmare fic by itsmylifekay - Win/Team - ~2300 words, not rated - Team tries to sleep without Win and it doesn’t go well. 

Team’s room feels suffocating, the air too thick and the space too dark and the covers sticking to his skin with sweat. His breaths are too loud in the quiet, but the quiet itself is deafening. It reminds him of the water. The muted sounds. The frantic pounding of his heart. (The same one he feels now echoed in his chest.)

Flashes of the dream come back to him unbidden.

Everything is too dark, too bright, no way to see what way is up or what way is down. He’s trapped. Can’t get out. Can’t breathe.

14. ** Different With You by blackrose9212 - Win/Team - ~6900 words, teen - It’s open swim week, which means that the swimming club offers free lessons to any of the students who would like to participate. Team doesn’t understand why his teammates hate it so much - until he does. Great jealousy in this one from both sides. 

“Nice to meet you,” the boy gushes. “I hope you don’t mind, but I’d like to join your group. Auntie said there needs to be at least three people, and no one was sitting across from you two. I’ve been paying attention so I already have ideas. Is that okay?” Team watches as he pulls out his books and drops them onto the table, pushing them a little farther out so they’re nearly touching Win’s notebook.

Team shrugs. “Sure, that’s fine. I don’t think Win has been paying attention so I’m glad you have an idea of what’s going on.”

Win hits him lightly at the back of the hand and Film giggles behind his hand. “Oh, no, P’Win looks very smart. I’m sure he’s been listening.” He looks at Win and smiles a little, blushing when Win gives him a smile back.

Team looks between the two of them. Then back at Film, who’s watching Win leaf through his literature textbook like he’s never seen anything so beautiful, and then past Film at the table he left from, where he sees three boys, laughing behind their hands and making cooing faces.

15. seven hundred thirteen by Kiranokira - Win/Team - ~6800 words, mature - Win spends two years abroad in England, and he and Team have to navigate a long distance relationship. It’s very sweet and written very true to life. 

“I kind of hoped you were going to show up at the airport tomorrow morning and chase the plane,” Win says. He kisses Team’s hair, lingering there to memorize the fresh, clear scent.

Team says, “Is it weird that I thought about doing that?” and Win feels him smile against his shoulder.

It’s late, nearly nine thirty, and Win had plans of how to spend tonight that can’t be realized anymore. He wanted to invite Team to dinner with his family. He wanted to play video games with Team and View. He wanted to talk about London with Waan and Team. He wanted to include Team in his family’s warmth in some small way, to make him feel less lonely.

He can’t do any of that now but he still wants to sneak Team upstairs and have him in his arms all night. He wouldn’t, but he wants to. It’s been a month since he moved off campus permanently, and weeks since he was last able to spend a night alone with Team.

16. ** You Can Cry by Kiranokira - Win/Team - ~19,600 words, mature - Win goes missing while on vacation with some friends. Team is left at home trying to handle it. I like the way the author built up to the accident happening. They did a good job creating tension and showing us exactly how Team felt about Win. And spoilers, this story has a happy ending.

“You’re going to fail out of university,” Team tells him. “You’re not really going, are you?”

Win rolls onto his side and perches his cheek on his hand. “What if I say yes?��� he asks. “Will you miss me?”

Team’s warning look is more venomous than usual. “Not at all,” Team says, and Win smirks because that isn’t true and they both know it. “You still shouldn’t go. What if you miss the flight back? You’ll fail out and I’ll break up with you for being a dumbass.”

The very recent phenomenon of Team acknowledging that they’re a couple has its usual melting effect on Win’s heart.

2GETHER

17. ** Love Songs on Our Skin series by Kari_Kurofai - Sarawat/Tine - ~15,700 words, explicit - A soulmark AU where Tine is born with the notes to a song that hasn’t yet been written wrapped around his chest. I enjoyed how Tine’s obliviousness in the show carries over to this fic. 

Only Mr. Chic would have a song no one had ever fucking heard of permanently etched on his chest. For fuck's sake .

Still, he waves it off, and he tries not to look too closely at other people's marks. Tries being the key word. He doesn't envy the elegant watercolors of a guitar pick and an open novel he catches sight of on the wrists of some couple's interlinked hands when he's in town. And he certainly doesn't envy the dude he once saw in a coffee shop with the words " I hate you " scrawled across the back of his neck. But yeah, okay, he might be a little jealous of the people who are lucky enough to have something as simple as their soulmate's name on their skin. That definitely isn't fair.

"Why couldn't it at least have been a Scrubb song?" he asks the mirror as he wipes it clear shower-born condensation. The mirror and him are well acquainted with this conversation by now. In fact, the mirror sees the stupid mark more than anyone, so it might as well put up with his equally stupid questions. "It could have been 'Together.' Just think of it, how romantic it would be to meet some cute girl's eyes after bumping into them at a concert, my favorite song playing . . ." He draws a nail over the winding bars of the music on his chest, frowning. "That would be so much easier."

18. Drown Your Sorrows by HyacinthsSoul - 2gether/Theory of Love - Sarawat and Third meet at a bar and bond over being in love with oblivious men.

“No, he’s an angel,” Sarawat says. “Unfortunately he’s a very stupid, very straight angel.”

“Mine’s stupid too,” the other man admits. “But definitely no angel. I’m Third, by the way,” he adds, offering a slender hand to shake.

“Sarawat,” says Sarawat. “Can I buy you another? I think we’re drinking the same thing, although I can’t remember what it’s called.”

20. ** Your Body Is My Instrument by Kari_Kurofai - Sarawat/Tine - ~12,000 words, explicit - This fic does a good job doing what, in this reccer’s humble opinion, the series failed to: showing Tine attracted to Sarawat. There’s great first time sex and some fun sexual tension. Plus, we get to see them switch off, which is extremely rare in BL. And most importantly: hand kink.

It starts innocently enough. Or, well, innocently enough for a guy whose first words to him were, “Keep looking at me like that and I’ll kiss you till you drop.” So, you know. It starts kinda like that.

They’ve been officially dating for a grand sum total of three days and altogether not that much has changed. Except that Sarawat touches him more now. Normally this would be fine, no big deal, right? But Sarawat has magic, evil hands, and apparently all he has to do is glance Tine’s way to deduce the exact right places and ways to touch Tine to drive him up the fucking wall.

And the worst part is it’s almost never the same place or the same way twice, and the only warning Tine ever gets is that sneaky little glint Sarawat gets in his eyes just before he does it, the bastard.

MY ENGINEER

21. Cool Boy(friend) by HyacinthsSoul - Ram/King - ~22,000 words, explicit - So this is technically a WIP, but each chapter feels like a completed fic without a cliffhanger or anything. This is a very sweet, comfortable story about King and Ram getting to know each other as their relationship develops.

In the selfie King sends, he’s holding up a full shot glass while someone’s arm reaches into the frame to hand him another kind of drink, something tall with a straw and a paper umbrella. Ram frowns. Whose arm is that? The person is wearing a red long-sleeved shirt, which doesn’t match what any of their friend group was wearing, and the engineer bar doesn’t offer table service.

Frowning, Ram looks back through the previous photos until he spots a detail he’d overlooked before: a red-shirted man at a neighboring table. He’s visible in the background of two or three pictures taken by Tee, and in each of them he’s staring intently at King.

Not that it’s any of Ram’s business. Not that he cares.

HISTORY3: TRAPPED

22. it’s too late (to turn back now) by stebeee - Tang Yi/Meng Shao Fei - ~7200 words, general audiences - Canon divergence fic where Tang Yi pushes Shao Fei away after he saves Hong Ye in order to try and protect him. Shao Fei reacts to that about as well as you’d expect.

“Tang Yi, what do you mean-“

“I think you’ve fooled around for long enough,” Tang Yi interrupts, his voice cold, nothing like the man who had dabbed at his lips with a cotton bud last night, the man who had smiled at him when he made the cannon joke.

“You’ve disrupted my life, and the life of my family and friends in the past few weeks, Meng Shao Fei. This has gone for long enough,” he continues, unwavering. “I don’t want to have anything more to do with you. Take a good rest here in the hospital, and I’ll get someone to pack up your things back at the house. Jack will deliver it back to your apartment.”

23 + 24. ** just waiting, waiting (on you) and between you and me by stebeee - Tang Yi/Meng Shao Fei - ~16,000 words, general audiences - These are stories about how Shao Fei and the rest of the gang deal over the years when Tang Yi is in jail. Found family fics are my jam, so I loved this.

The thing is, it’s been almost three months of this. 90 days, give or take. 2,160 hours. 129,600 minutes. And more than 7 million seconds of this — not having Tang Yi at his side.

Shao Fei wonders for a moment if he will ever stop seeing Tang Yi in every corner of the house. When he comes down the stairs in the morning, some part of him expects to see Tang Yi standing at the kitchen island with a bright smile, asking him if he wants jam with his toast that morning. Shao Fei sees Tang Yi in that apron he loves, cooking at the stove when he fixes himself dinner, alone in the spacious kitchen. Seeing Tang Yi’s favourite blue bathrobe, Shao Fei can almost see Tang Yi leaving the bathroom, his hair all wet and falling over his eyes.

25. amuse bouche by sarahyyy - Jack/Zhao Zi - ~2400 words, general audiences - This is more of Jack seducing Zhao Zi through food and attention. So basically an extension of the show. Mother hen Jack is the cutest.

“Jack?” Zhao Zi murmurs blearily. “Why are you here?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?” Jack shoots back, herding Zhao Zi back into the house. He checks for Zhao Zi’s temperature with the back of his hand. “Fever?”

“Just the flu for now, I think?” Zhao Zi says.

Jack purses his lips. “Have you had anything to eat?”

“I had some bread earlier?” Zhao Zi says, but he also looks shifty enough that Jack mostly takes it with a grain of salt.

26. Absolutely Nothing Goes Wrong by anon - Jack/Zhao Zi - ~4500 words, teen - This is an AU where Zhao Zi is the son of a rival mob boss, but he’s still, you know HIMSELF. And when his father says he’s useless, he decides to prove him wrong by seducing Tang Yi’s second-in-command. It’s absolutely adorable.

The man pulled him by the arm, resisting Zhao Zi’s attempts to unhook his claws without causing a scene.

“Hey, stop grabbing me!” he shouted, as the other man played deaf.

“While I admit this is a very loud bar, I didn’t think it was quite so easy to mishear what this young man just yelled straight into your ear,” a newcomer who’d witnessed their conflict said lightly as he walked up to them. His words were accompanied by a wide, almost chilling smile. Zhao Zi blinked once and the odd peculiarity of that smile vanished, leaving just a regular smile in its place. He must’ve just been imagining things under the harsh shadows of the dimly lit bar.

AND +2

Because I’m shameless, I’ll add my own two fics to the end, if you’re interested.

WHY R U?

27. Sorry A Thousand Times - Fighter/Tutor - ~3200 words, explicit - This is a canon divergence for the series finale. I needed more catharsis after the intensity of episode 12.

Tutor narrowed his eyes and clenched his fists at his sides. He took a deep breath. “How many times do I have to tell you to leave me alone before you listen?” he asked. I don’t know how many more times I can bring myself to say it.

“Only once,” Fight said and then added, “if you mean it.”

Tutor crossed his arms over his chest and said, “What makes you think I don’t mean it now?”

The corner of Fight’s mouth turned up and he took a step closer. Tutor stumbled back until he was stopped by his legs hitting the edge of the bed. Fight reached out a hand and gently ran the back of his fingers over the line of Tutor’s jaw.

Until We Meet Again

28. Dream On - Win/Team - 8900 words, explicit - Takes place alongside show canon, so that we see how the bed sharing began and how Win and Team’s relationship developed over that year.

“Do you want to do well tomorrow?” Win asked, throwing one of his legs over both of Team’s.

“Yes,” Team said as he did his best to put some space between them on the tiny mattress.

“Then you need to get some sleep. I’m helping.”

“How is this helping?” Team demanded.

“Would you stop…” Win said, shifting closer every time Team pulled away. “Five minutes, Team. Just be still for five minutes, okay?”

#until we meet again #uwma #win/team #winteam #fic recs #fic rec list #bl fic recs #j9 #2moons #2moons2 #mingkit #ming/kit #forthbeam #forth/beam #love by chance #lbc #tincan #tin/can #mean/plan #2wish #uwma fic #2moons fic #tharntype #tharntype fic #mew/gulf #history 3: trapped #jack/zhao #tang yi/meng shao fei #history 3: trapped fic #lbc techno fix-it

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt 92

92

   Lance lived up to his warnings over having nightmares. His boyfriend waking up screaming four times during the night, the last time the worst as he’d barely fallen back to sleep in Keith’s arms before he was shaking and moaning for help. Keith wanted to go back in time and kill Nyma and Rolo himself.. not for the first time and probably not for the last time. With how much of the night Keith spent awake, Shiro let him “sleep in”, creeping into his bedroom a little after 8 as Keith dozed. Cuddled into him, Lance was drenched in sweat, despite his body being as cool as ever. Blearily, Keith blinked at his brother over Lance’s head

“Ugh?”

“How’s he doing?”

Stroking Lance’s hair, Keith hated how useless he’d been at calming Lance back down. His boyfriend would wake up, start crying, cling to him, then cry himself back to sleep

“Sleeping...”

  Shiro nodded in sympathy. All-nighters with nightmares fucking sucked. Lance hadn’t been violent towards him, but he’d tossed and turned plenty

“Coran’s called. He asked if you both could come in... I told him about Lance, he said it was best to let him rest”

“Mhmm... do I...?”

He hadn’t slept enough to be rested, but he wasn’t awake enough to string a sentence together

“Yeah. He said he wanted to talk to you about something he’d discovered. He was very apologetic about it all”

“When?”

“He thought it best you head in now to get it out the way. I can keep an eye on Lance”

Why couldn’t Coran come to them? Moving seemed like effort... and Lance really needed him right now. But it wasn’t as if he could say no

“I’ll... up”

“Okay. I’ve got your coffee waiting”

   Lance didn’t wake up as Keith extracted himself from his boyfriend. The fever had him concerned, as did whatever Lance was currently dreaming about. Showering and dressing in the first things he found out his closest, Keith carried his coffee mug to work with him, making it clear he’d been disturbed. Meeting him at the elevator, Coran seemed to have had a sleepless night too. Neither of them particularly talkative as they headed to Coran’s office.

  Finishing the last of his coffee, Keith stared into the cup hoping it’d magically refill. Coran letting out a long breath as he sat himself down in his chair

“I know you’re eager to get back to Lance, so I’ll keep this as brief as possible”

“He didn’t sleep well... he kept waking up thanks to Nyma and Rolo”

“He seemed very shaken last night”

“We talked for a bit... Sendak scared the fuck out of him”

“He scares me, if I’m honest. Now. I thought I’d let you know that your night wasn’t spent in vain. The Blades managed to extract some audio from your recordings that they’re following up”

“You called me down for that?”

Caffeine deprived Keith was a snappy Keith

“That and I thought you’d like to know the initial results on those samples”

  That got his attention, Coran noticing

“Now, that first sample. The blue one, we couldn’t make heads or tails of, though it did give us some clues on the bag itself. The handler had trace amounts of grease and diesel on their hands. The Blades are running their own analysis on it, and believe the bag it was in may provide some leads. The second sample has me concerned”

“How so?”

“I was hoping Lance would be here for this... we did have a conversation the other night...”

“He told me freaked out over his smell”

“Ah. That makes things easier. I wasn’t sure if he’d confided in you as to wanting to stop his heat or at least find a contraceptive that’d help. In the sample you obtained, we found an unusual mix. For the most part it was dried blood, however, upon running more tests, I’ve determined that it’s... I suppose you’d call it a werewolf viagra. Designed for werewolves predominantly, the formula has been slightly tweaked and traces were lifted off your clothes. I wanted to see if Lance was displaying symptoms”

The last thing they needed was werewolf Viagra. Matt and Rieva were horny enough as it was

“He had a fever when I left...”

  Coran frowned as his fingers went to smooth the edge of his moustache. Keith knew that fever wasn’t a good sign. He should have made Coran come to them

“That’s not a good sign. It may be emotionally related, though it may also be related to what you all breathed in last night. Is it possible for you to bring him in?”

If Lance was up for it, he would have been right here beside Keith. Coran should really know that

“He’s not up for it. Those nightmares were really bad... he barely slept at all”

“Then I want you to monitor him. I told him the other night we were still trying to figure out how to help him, and how to keep his hormone levels stable. It’s all been a muddle with Lotor. I may be overreacting...”

Overreacting was better than under reacting

“I’d rather know so I know if something does happen...”

“I thought you would. As I said, I did wish to talk to both of you, and I’m sorry I couldn’t leave here. I’m in a smidge of trouble for withholding evidence”

  The Blades could go jump. Lotor had sent them there for a reason, not the Blade members. Lotor wanted them to have whatever information was to be found... or maybe he just wanted to show them Sendak and remind them of their mortality.

  “That’s not your fault”

Coran hummed, tilting his head slightly

“That’s very kind of you to say. I’ll let you head back to Lance. If his symptoms don’t worsen by evening, he’ll be fine to return home. I do have some medication I would like him to try, just to counteract what’s in his system at the moment. It’s a bit like ingesting bad blood, and his body needs a bit of a boost to remove the last of it. Normally he burns through things quite quickly when he’s stable, making finding a way to keep a sustained dose in his system hard”

“He was really upset. He wants to do more things together. I didn’t know how freaked out shopping had made him”

“He has a soft heart, and he’s most smitten with you. I’m ashamed I’m still working on it. Though I did tell him I wanted to leave his hormones to settle for three months...”

  Keith vaguely remembered that... and Lance’s six month probationary period. Surely now Kolivan and Krolia knew Lance, Lance’s life was secured. He wouldn’t be above emotional manipulation should Krolia decide otherwise. That and he really would never forgive his mother if he lost Lance

“You know what he’s like. He’s convinced himself we can’t do anything together because I’m in danger”

Coran sighed deeply. The kind of soul deep sigh that Keith felt

“You both are, I’m afraid. His scent is quite noticeable. I have had a few vampires, and werewolves, comment on it. I’m afraid that I might not be able to give him what he wants as fast as he wants it. I may be onto something contraceptive wise. The scent... I truly believed would settle in time”

Maybe if Lance hadn’t been pulled into his world, it would have? His boyfriend had had such a quite life before he’d come along

“Basically we’re being too impatient, aren’t we?”

Coran smiled as he nodded

“You are. Young love can be that way. I remember that feeling all too well. Now, I’m going to give you an injection for him. You may call it the hopes of an old man, as well as a slight experiment, as it’s far better for him to go into heat naturally. I’ll need you to draw some of your own blood before injecting him”

  That reminded him. Lance would be proud if he could see him operating on one cup of coffee. Not only was he talking, he was remembering like a functional human

“Coran, you said before that fresh blood would help him...”

“It would, but he can’t have things both ways”

“What makes fresh blood so different?”

“Think of it like your cup of coffee. When it’s warm, it leaves you feeling much more satisfied... though, perhaps that’s not the right way to word it. Say you were starving, your choice between a fresh crisp apple and an apple with the onset of rot. Both will cure your hunger, though the crisp apple tasted better, it’s better for you, and you feel better for eating it. I’m not explaining this right... There’s more life in fresh blood. Magic if you will”

Keith nodded... Vampire welfare was on the BOM official study guide. Keith had to continually remember that they were full of shit

“Like remote control batteries. Fresh blood is like fresh batteries and last longer. Blood bags are like half used batteries that keep you going until you replace them with other half used batteries”

Coran’s eyes widened, his smile broadening to being too big for the hour of the morning

“Number two, that’s the best description I’ve heard to date. I might have to use it myself. Now, you really best be home. Allura will be meeting with Lotor later, she’s assured me he’s fine with meeting with her alone”

“I think Lance dented his ego”

“More like he smacked across the face repeatedly with a newspaper”

  They both smiled at the thought. Keith didn’t see whatever Allura saw in Lotor. All he saw was an unnecessary complication. Standing up, he stretched, muscles protesting thanks to how he’d spent the night holding Lance. If Allura wanted to meet with Lotor it really wasn’t his business, all he wanted was to get home to his boyfriend.

   *

Lance slept on, Keith feeling guilty about injecting his boyfriend while he was sleeping but didn’t want to wake him now he was finally resting peacefully. Thanks to that it turned into a lazy day, Keith pulling on his pyjamas and conking out next to his boyfriend. Leaving his phone unguarded, it wasn’t until nearly 4pm that he woke, roused by Lance waking up. Peppering kisses to Keith’s cheek, Keith smiled as he hugged his boyfriend close, determined that Lance wouldn’t feel judged over his nightmares

“Good morning, sleepy head”

  Nuzzling into Keith’s cheek, Lance was relaxed against him

“Hey, hot stuff”

“What brings you to a bed like this?”

“My boyfriend... My amazing boyfriend”

Keith’s smile widened, playing along

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. He has no idea how much he helped last night”

“He sounds like a keeper”

“He is...”

  Falling into a comfortable silence, it was broken by Kosmo who’d heard them. His paws scratching on Keith’s door, whining pathetically to be let in. Shiro collecting him up before letting himself into Keith’s room. Carrying the excited puppy over, he dropped Kosmo lightly on the pair of them

“You’re lucky I don’t charge babysitting fees”

“Don’t be like that... what’s the time?”

“Nearly 4. Pidge says you’re disgusting”

Keith groaned in confusion. One minute he was having cuddles, the next Kosmo was climbing over him and Pidge’s name was being brought up

“What did you do?”

“I may have sent a photo or ten of you two sleeping to your chat”

“Shiro!”

He was going to kill his brother

“It’s your fault for not locking your phone and I wanted to let them know you guys were both alright”

  That word “alright” seemed to linger in the air. Lance going tense as if he expected Shiro to yell

“I’m sorry for last night”

“Nah. It’s alright. As long as you’re feeling better”

That desire to murder faded when Keith realised his brother was trying to reassure Lance that he was still welcome here and that having nightmares wasn’t about to wind up up with him evicted

“A lot... I’m sorry they were so severe”

“It’s okay. Nothing compared to some of the nightmares we’ve been through, and it’s not something you can help or control. Curtis is out in the living room if you two feel up to being human”

“I guess I’m staying here...”

  Keith took a moment to process before groaning, Lance kissing his cheek. His boyfriend wasn’t funny

“You’re a shit”

“I’m dead... and I probably look like shit, but I’m not sure you’re using the right descriptive words”

“You’re an idiot crumpet”

“And you’re a cranky caffeine needing anger loaf”

Keith couldn’t disagree. Shiro laughing at the pair of them

“I’ll let Curtis know you’re coming out”

“He already knows”

That smooth fucker. All Keith could do was groan again at Lance.

  Skipping showering, Keith lent Lance some of his clothes to wear. His boyfriend pulling off the cliche “stolen boyfriend hoodie” happily. Heading out to the living room, Curtis smiled at the pair of them

“Good to see you awake. Sorry I couldn’t come back last night. Coran got in trouble for bringing us along”

Lance stalled mid-step, head jerking up, looking like a deer in headlights

“Fuck. Lotor...”

“I’d rather not”

Now he had Curtis doing it too. Why were all their friends so weird?

“Noooo. Shit. We should have met with him by now”

Placing his hands on Lance’s shoulders, Keith pushed him towards the sofa

“Allura’s got it handled”

“She does? How do you know she does?”

“Because I saw Coran this morning. Now sit down already, I’m feeling exhausted already trying to guess what’s going on in your head”

  Lance obediently sat, Keith flopping down next to him

“What do you mean you saw Coran?”

“I mean I saw him. He called earlier”

“What did he say? Is Allura okay?”

“Allura’s fine. He wanted to talk but you were sleeping so I went in to find out what was going on”

Lance frowned hard. Hard enough for it be adorable

“You should have woken me”

“It’s fine. We had a chat. Blades got some leads to work on and we all got slightly drugged. No biggie”

  Shiro fumbled the mug he was holding as the smoke alarm started beeping. Lance hissing and covering his ears. In the kitchen the toaster had gone up in flames, Curtis moving to open the windows, Shiro moving to deal with the toaster. Unplugging it, he dropped the device in the sink, turning the water on to douse it in a way that couldn’t be safe. Flying up the sofa, Kosmo shook as he panted, trying to climb up Keith’s chest

“Turn the alarm off!”

“On it!”

  The whole sequence of events took place in the space of a few minutes. Lance and Keith both wide awake now. It’d been a while since anything had gone up in flames in the kitchen... as if they’d been lulled into a false sense of security. Turning alarm off, they all breathed a sigh of relief as the noise died

“Sorry ‘bout that”

Keith was confused by Curtis apologising

“What are you saying sorry for? Shiro’s the one in the kitchen”

“I should have hit the alarm before doing the windows”

“Don’t blame this on me. There’s nothing in the toaster”

Rubbing at his ears, Lance sighed

“Why does it have to be toasters? Why can’t it be something less flammable?”

Keith didn’t have an answer. Shiro was in the kitchen meaning it was his fault

“It’s the first time Shiro’s killed one here”

Shiro quick to deny

“Again, not my fault!”

“None of you should be allowed in a kitchen. I’ll clean up, and as I do, I want the three of you to sit on the sofa and have a good hard think about your actions”

  When Lance was determined, it was impossible to talk him out of something. Curtis and Shiro both looked sheepish sitting on the sofa next to Keith with their hands in their laps, Keith’s resting on a traumatised Kosmo. The three of them too scared to talk properly

“He’s your boyfriend...”

“I’m not getting invoked”

“We weren’t anywhere near the toaster”

“Doesn’t matter. Shut up. You’ll get us in trouble”

From the kitchen Lance called out

“I’d like to say I know you know I can hear you. You’ve all lost your rights to touch a toaster”

Keith kicked Shiro in the side of the leg with a glare. He’d worked hard to have toaster privileges again

“Now look what you’ve done”

Shiro gaped at him. His brother had brought this on himself

“Me? I didn’t touch it”

“Doesn’t matter. You got me in trouble”

“But I didn’t do anything. Curtis, back me up”

  Curtis decided now was the time to check under his nails for imaginary dirt

“Did you say something?”

“Traitor. You’re supposed to be on my side”

“As an experienced toaster killer, it’s best you accept your punishment”

“I’ll punish you”

Ugh. Gross. He didn’t need to think about that

“Bring it. What are you doing to do? Grind my horn down?”

“No, but I might paint your tail while you sleep”

“Oh good. I was thinking it needed a fresh coat of fuck off”

Delivered deliberately, Keith felt Shiro’s soul take damage. His brother had no smart reply for that. Instead Shiro crossed his arms, leaned back into the sofa, and looked away from the both.

   Seeing they’d been banned from the kitchen, Lance made sandwiches for the four of them. Keith wanted to help, but all it took was a look for the words to die unasked. Lance wanted to feel normal, so was doing something as mundane as making sandwiches. Presenting them nicely, with coffee for three of them, his boyfriend then sat on the arm of the sofa

“Okay. You can eat now. I’m probably going to head back to Garrison tonight”

Lance wasn’t going to ask about being drugged?

“Coran said you should stay... to make sure you’re okay. I had to give you an injection of blood and stuff to help get everything out your system”

“I did wonder why my arm hurt. Did he say what it was?”

Keith blushed, mumbling

“Werewolf viagra”

“What?!”

 Screeching, Lance nearly fell off the sofa arm backwards. Hands flaying before grabbing the arm of the sofa and saving himself

“Werewolf what?”

“Viagra. Traces were on our clothes. It’d been like adjusted or something. Coran wanted to make sure you didn’t go into heat or anything”

Angrily, Lance huffed

“Oh, so now he can do something about it...”

Whelp. Fuck

“He said it would be burned through in your system and you needed a bit of jump start with that”

“I feel shitty enough without this viagra. Why the fuck would they be using it in a vampire club?”

Keith shrugged

“I don’t know... You’ll have to ask Coran”

“Because that won’t be an awkward conversation. Can you imagine Matt if he sniffs it in me? He’s horny enough as it is”

  Shiro choked on his sandwich, hitting his chest with his fist

“I don’t need to think about that”

“Neither did I. Did he tell you what I’m supposed to feel?”

“You had a fever and he was worried it’d turn into a heat”

“Great. So a guy can’t have a fever these days without being secretly horny... Thanks, life”

Curtis braved the cranky Lance

“He does have a point. A fever is a prime indicator that you’ve gone into heat”

“Not that kind of fever...”

“You also had an incredulous stressful night. Personally I believed you would turned into a bat”

“Your confidence in me is startling”

“You are swayed easily by your emotions”

  Keith winced in sympathy for Curtis. It was nice knowing him

“And your feet smell like parmesan cheese. Sometimes facts fucking suck”

It seemed Curtis would live to see another day. Keith, no longer as blind as he’d been, could see right through all of this. This was Lance doing that mood thing when things got too much and he tried too hard to make them all feel better. Yeah. He was onto his boyfriend. That irritating fake perk... that he found not as irritating when it wasn’t directed in his direction... Lance loved everyone in their friend circle so much that Keith couldn’t blame him for wanting things to feel normal between them

“That’s not my fault”

“And my emotions are what keeps me sane, though hanging out with you lot makes me question why I bother”

“Because we’re interesting?”

Lance sighed, Curtis calming him down with those three words

“I can’t deny that. And who the hell sprinkles werewolf viagra over a crowd of vampires? It’s like asking for us to be chased by horny mutts. I feel exhausted thinking about the way we all acted and now I find out that some wanker thought it was okay to drug my boyfriend. Being a vampire sucks. I want to punch someone in the dick for this”

  Keith snorted. The infamous dick punch threat was bound to come out

“You’re not alone there. I think Coran would punch them too”

“How did he even find out what it was so fast?”

“By the look of it he worked all night”

“He’s an idiot. He’s going to burn himself out if he doesn’t rest. You said we got leads?”

“Yeah. Someone slipped some stuff into Allura’s pocket. They’re still working on it, but the second lot was definitely viagra and blood”

“I’ll bet you a hundred bucks Sendak was experimenting last night and came to check the results”

  Keith shook his head. Now Lance suggested it, it seemed very likely that was the case

“I’m not taking that bet. You’re probably right. You’ve got a good instinct for these things”

“It comes with being old and tired of people... and vampires. I’m tired of vampires. I’m a tired old vampire tired of vampires”

Keith forced down his laughter. Lance wasn’t that old for a vampire. Plus, they were both old and tired of people

“You poor thing. Come sit in my lap and tell me all about it”

His boyfriend hissed at him

“I feel personally attacked now. You could have denied it”

“In the words of Pidge, “Merp””

“You can’t quote the gremlin against me. She’s magical. She’ll hear”

Pidge was magical in her own way. She was unbeaten with a laptop in her lap. The world should really fear her and her tenacious spirit

“She should write a book”

“How to “Merp” according to Pidge?”

“Pretty much”

“Maybe if she did, they’d give up this stupid fucking hunt. Did Coran say how long I have to stay I town?”

“He said you can go home if you’re still okay this evening”

  Keith would have preferred Lance stayed so they could be sure the vampire was truly okay

“I don’t want to drive back, but I have to make sure they’re still all okay. Especially after last night”

“I know”

Not that it made it easier to say goodbye. Lance reminded him of when he had to see Shiro at every chance he got to make sure Shiro hadn’t been killed like Adam

“I think I deserve cuddles for this...”

“I did offer my lap”

“I know. I’m coming in...”

Curtis’s sharp wit struck again, commenting as Lance climbed off the sofa arm

“Really? I do believe Shiro said you were coming out”

  Closing his eyes, Keith sighed to himself in the moment it took Lance to club into his lap. Why did their friends have to be so weird?

#klance #vampire lance #hunter keith #mpreg themes #bottom lance #top keith #voltron #once bitten twice stupid #oncebittentwicestupid #vampire hunter keith #idiots in love

[bellesque]

Sweet Dreams (Loki x Reader)

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 3.1K Warnings/Tags: Incubus Loki, Smut (or at least it’s leading up to it) Summary: It’s your first free weekend in what feels like forever and you plan on snoozing through it without any interruptions. Someone has other plans.

A/N: I really just wanted an excuse to write some smut, huh? It’s okay. This was a little smut-writing exercise. You can also read this on my AO3.

YOU AREN’T SURE of three things.

The first one being that you don’t know when exactly it starts.

Things are a whirlwind, a blur of deadlines and details that don’t seem to fit together. You’re busy, that’s for sure, just barely surviving; your concept of time is distorted with how much you have to get done and stay on top of that once you’re home you have just enough energy to take a quick shower and knock right out. Work, survive, sleep, repeat. Your favorite part of the routine? Definitely the sleep.

You aren’t sure when your nights start becoming more restful. It’s strange, you think, since you barely get even a good five hours yet you wake up refreshed every morning. Or at least ready to face the day.

You tell yourself it’s your circadian rhythm getting used to your messed up workaholic schedule.

The second thing you aren’t sure of is why you start having dreams.

It shouldn’t be a surprise to you—you’ve had dreams before. Only with how much time you spend awake versus how much time you spend resting, dreams don’t come easy. At least, they shouldn’t. You read somewhere that the more active your brain is, the more likely you are to have dreams. Or is it the opposite? You press a hand to your eyes, rolling your neck before you continue with the document you’re currently typing.

They aren’t weird dreams by any means. Sometimes you remember them, sometimes you don’t. You remember one where you screamed at an ex-friend until your lungs gave out, throat hoarse, and that day you woke up feeling closure you never actually got. Another time, you dreamed that you missed a deadline, and woke up so paranoid that you showed up two hours early for work. And more recently, you admit with a tinge of embarrassment, a wet dream.

You’re sure it’s from the novel you had to proofread the other day. Page after page was filth after filth and it left your heart racing, your mind wandering, and a certain part of you wanting.

Goodness, how long has it been since you last…

You shake your head and will yourself to focus.

The sooner you can get this done, the sooner you can go home.

It’s been a pretty shitty day.

You’re practically ready to call it a day; today your boss yelled at you for being incompetent (you aren’t) and your coworker Salome took credit for your work in today’s meeting (she’s a little bitch). You just need a break, damn it.

Thankfully this is your first weekend off after what feels like years. You love your job, but you also don’t want to live-eat-breathe it. Any more time in that office and you’d probably reach your breaking point, exploding into an angry string of expletives and fired notices.

Your night of unwinding and de-stressing goes exactly how you plan it, and you think you can finally get a good nine hours of sleep in. You’re definitely sleeping in tonight. If anyone even tries to wake you up before seven you swear you’ll kill them on sight come Monday morning.

A friend of yours recommends this audio thing for you to listen to. Supposed to help you relax, so she says. So you decide why the hell not, you’re already pretty drowsy, why not conk out two minutes quicker?

You settle in under the covers, getting into the position you’re most comfortable in, and hit play. It’s an audiobook, you realize, narrated by a man with a gorgeously full voice. You allow yourself to get lost in the timbre of his voice. It’s almost hypnotic, entrancing, how musical it sounds. You notice the way his words sound together, how he pronounces his the and said, not paying attention to the story itself, until he becomes background noise.

In less than five minutes, you’re fast asleep.

The last thing you aren’t sure of is what you’re dreaming of before you see it.

It, or him?

The shift in emotion you feel is so quick, so drastic, that you almost wake up. You do. Or you don’t? You’re not sure, and it’s freaking you out. Well, your eyes are open—does that mean you’re awake? You try to regain your bearings—what does that even mean, you are—were?—sleeping in your own bed for fuck’s sake—

“Relax.”

There it is, a silhouette, just by the foot of your bed. Or is it just a shadow? Your heart beats loudly in your ears, and you want to be sleeping peacefully—aren’t you sleeping peacefully?—or just wake up from whatever this is—

“Still your thoughts, pet, I’m not going to hurt you. Unless you want me to. But first, please—rest… relax.”

You feel a gentle pressure around your body as your blanket comes up around you, almost like you’re being tucked in like a child who’s just woken up from a nightmare. Is this a nightmare? Are you awake or dreaming? You aren’t sure.

The voice laughs, silky and altogether mysterious, and for some reason it automatically makes you think of dark chocolate. Sinful, rich, and decadent. He hasn’t stepped out of the shadows, but no matter how lovely his voice is you’re not sure you want to see him. It’s instinct. So you shut your eyes tight.

“I’m scared,” you blurt out without thinking.

“I can see that,” the voice answers swiftly. You can feel your hair being brushed away from your forehead. A gentle, comforting gesture. “Although I hope in a few nights you won’t be.”

“What does that mean?” Your question comes out soft and weak, the kind that signals your consciousness is slipping away. What, are you being lulled back into sleep already? So easily?

The voice hums thoughtfully. “Names are power. Shall I give you the power of mine so that you’ll be well-acquainted with me?”

“Who are you?”

“I may have misled you a little, pet.” He chuckles, and it surprises you how warm it sounds. Inviting. “What am I would be a better start now, wouldn’t it?”

You’re jolted back to alertness. Not a person, but… something else? He sounds human. He probably feels human as well. “What are you?” you all but demand.

“Oh, there’s fire in this one,” he remarks. “I quite like that. Well then, sweet, I’ll tell you, since you asked so nicely. I am what your kind know as an incubus—you can look it up when you awaken, but, I’ll give you the short version: I feed on passion. Desire. Lust. Sex.” The way he says the last word makes your skin shiver, and you unconsciously suck in a breath. “But only in dreams. Only in your dreams. Your deepest, darkest fantasies come to life. Everything you want, I can give. Now tell me, isn’t that exhilarating?”

Damn, your head is spinning. The world is spinning. This handsome voice only wants to have sex?

How long has it been again since you last…

“How do I know if I can trust you?” you ask.

His motions pause, and then he resumes with a touch that mesmerizes you into a state of pliancy. And gentle, oh so gentle—your eyelids are heavy, a stark contrast to your body that is on high alert.

“I’ve told you what I am. I wouldn’t want to deceive you to get what I want. It’s always more delightful when an incubus has a willing partner.” A wanton shiver slides down your spine, slow and deliberate, matching the rhythm of the strokes of his hands. “I won’t do anything you wouldn’t want me to. But oh, sweet pet, the things I want to do.” You feel his voice at your ear, his breath coming in light puffs, and hell, it makes you want him with each passing second. “You’d enjoy it all, I’m sure. I only want to see you come undone. To bring you high into your personal precipice of ecstasy. And I want to watch it all unfold.” You gasp when you feel his teeth nip at your earlobe, your clit pulsing once, in time with the pang of pain and pleasure.

“Will you let me show you what I can offer, sweet?”

The fact that you can feel the gush of heat pooling into your center makes you slightly embarrassed, but it only affirms how much you want this. It’s been too long, and if the both of you can get off then the better.

His nose is running across the side of your face, and you crane your neck as he trails downward, towards the vein in your neck, where he ultimately will know just how affected you are. He skims the tip of his nose along your pulse point, inhaling deeply, before climbing up so his face is level with yours.

“Just say yes,” he murmurs, low and seductive and lulling you into a deeper place of desire, “if you want this as bad as I want you.”

“Yes,” you breathe, a sigh riding on the last sound of the word. “Please, yes.”

The pressure around you lifts, and you briefly wonder if the dream is over. Only it isn’t. This is real, and this is happening.

“Open your eyes first,” he says. “I want you to see me.”

Battling some degree of difficulty (your eyes have been pretty heavy up to this point), you comply. Standing before you is a gorgeous man, lithe and lean, clad in black (is that a suit?) and immediately you know his voice of velvet seduction matches his appearance perfectly. Your eyes rake over this mystery man, his black hair falling in decadent curls and grazing the tops of his shoulders, his features sharp and masculine, and your gaze travels downwards and lingers for a second too long on his…

“I’m glad I could elicit such a positive reaction when I haven’t done anything to pleasure you yet.” There’s a teasing lilt in his voice as he appraises you with a look of equal desire. Has he been looking at you like that all this time? The idea that he has floods your veins with delicious fire, your excitement boiling in the pits of your deepest parts.

“Now close your eyes again, sweet,” he says, gently placing his fingers on your eyelids and guiding them shut. “I want you to focus on what I’m doing.”

The heat pooling between your legs is undeniable now, and you wait with bated breath for anything, literally anything. All you can hear is the sound of your own breathing, shallow and rapid, as you wait in anticipation. There is no contact between you, and yet the electrifying tension in the air winds you up like a string that’s pulled taut.

And then finally, he touches you. It’s not what you expect, a gentle cupping of your cheek, but the tenderness is not lost on you. He drags a single finger over your nose, running it along your jawline, then down to your neck. Your breathing picks up as the lightest pressure of his finger brushes against your collarbone, going over the hollow where neck meets shoulder once, twice, and then he slowly, excruciatingly slowly, travels down and boldly trails his finger around your breast.

“Gorgeous,” he comments, and it amazes you how you want more. He’s only using a single finger and already you are putty in his hands. “And I would love to see how exquisite your skin is underneath. May I, sweet?”

You sigh, and it sounds more shameless than you want to admit. “Yes. Please.”

“Alright.”

You’re aware of your sudden lack of clothing. At least it feels that way, what with the cool air caressing your curves and the goosebumps that rise on the surface of your skin. You’re topless in front of him. Your first instinct is to cover up, although your hands seem to be pinned to your sides as you lay flat on your back.

He’s silent, the only sounds now both your breathing, yours light as air and his even and level. The air is thick and hot and heavy and you want to do something. Anything, to relieve the delicious ache between your legs.

“May I touch you, sweet?” His pure seduction of a voice cuts through the night air, a few tones lower and ten times more sensual.

Your throat is closed up from the anticipation you’re feeling, and you nod dumbly. Yes, please touch me, you want to say, but the words never come out. The nod, for now, will suffice.

He continues to use a single finger to trace across the mounds of your breast, circling the right from base to areola and then moving to the left until his finger rests on the nipple. You vaguely register the breathy sound you make when he brushes against it—the firm pad of his finger against your nipple causes a delicious friction that makes you think Yes please and something warm settles in the pit of your belly. Your mind is going into overdrive, probably from the sex drought you’ve been experiencing for the past few months.

“So responsive.” His voice is husky, and his praise makes your folds even wetter that you press your thighs together to relieve some of the ache.

And then he’s repeating the motion with more vigor this time, one hand on each breast as he inflicts intoxicating little flicks against your nipples, and you feel like you’re about to see stars. Your mouth hangs open in awe because fuck, never has something this simple turned you on this much.

You let out a full on moan when he squeezes your breasts in his hands, briefly, and then he’s sliding his cool fingers up to cup your jaw and then tracing down the curves of your waist and then settling his hands on your hips.

“You’re so soft,” he whispers, his fingers a feather-light touch against your skin, leaving sparks of fire in their wake. It can’t be humanly possible to feel this much, can it?

They’re just hands, you tell yourself in the midst of your hazy, lust-ridden thoughts. How the hell are you feeling this way?

“May I taste your skin, sweet?” His voice is practically a purr. You nod, frantic to receive whatever he has to give.

You don’t think it can get any better but then fuck, you feel something warm and wet close around your nipple and your legs snap open by their own accord. Your underwear feels soaked through and part of you thinks this is obscene but hell you don’t want it to end.

His mouth is doing wicked things now, nipping and sucking and then gently biting at your nipple. It’s mind-numbing, the way he deftly swirls his tongue around your nipple before sucking and biting while his other hand caresses the other. He showers the rest of the skin around your breast with the same treatment until you’re whimpering beneath him, writhing for release—any kind of release at this point—that you know he can give and senses that you need.

“Legs up, sweet,” he purrs, his voice is thick with desire. Hearing it only makes your libido kick up three notches higher, and you eagerly lift up your legs in a V position. He catches you by the ankles, rubbing his thumbs in circles on the insides of each, every action traveling up the nerves that connect to your pussy, electrifyingly delicious and making your walls clench in anticipation. Hell, you want him to touch you. In all the places. You’re just about ready to beg.

He takes you by surprise as he hooks one leg over his shoulder, using his body to shift you until you’re lying on your side. It’s a little unexpected, but you aren’t uncomfortable. Your legs are spread wide, one on his shoulder and the other on the bed seemingly between his knees. It’s probably enough for him to see just exactly how turned on you are.

“My, my, sweet.” If it’s possible, his voice takes on a fuller, darker, ultimately more seductive tone and fuck if you don’t orgasm even once tonight—

“I would like to touch you. Right here, if you’ll let me.” He brushes a finger against your (apparently naked!) mound. “May I, sweet?”

“Fuck, yes please.” You don’t care how needy your voice is; if anything, it’s a reflection of how much you’re craving this. How you want this.

He places his palm flat on your pussy and both of you hiss. Your back arches as you try to grind on his hand, desperate for friction, and he chuckles.

“So eager,” he says, his fingers now rubbing steady circles around your clit. “Would you prefer it if I gave you my cock already?”

You let out a strangled noise because how could he ask such a stupid question of course you want it. You buck against his hand, whining when he withdraws it. It almost hurts how aroused you are, your cunt thrumming with the promise of an orgasm.

“I would love to give it to you already, sweet, but I’m afraid that’s going to have to wait a while.” You can feel your clothes coming back on. “But, since you’ve been so good, allow me to give you a parting gift…”

You’re almost face-down on the mattress, but you’re still mostly on your side. The bed shifts with weight as you feel—you can only guess—him kneeling behind you.

And your world comes to a complete standstill, a wave of pleasure overcoming you and washing over you like a tidal wave, as you feel him just griiiiind his erection into your wanting core.

“Oh, yes, just like that,” you say breathlessly. He has complete control, a gentle yet firm grip on your hips as he presses hard into your clothed wetness, his erection strong and unyielding. He alternates between lowering himself slooowly on you, pressing you down into the mattress with long, even, fluid motions, and then grinding in slow circles in that intensity, before relieving the pressure and humping you in that slow and steady manner again and again until he’s bringing you to the brink of orgasm.

And then he gives one hard long push, grinding into you, his cock as close to your cunt as you can possibly have it, as he whispers in your ear, “Until the next night of ours, sweet.”

And then, just like that, he’s gone. It’s over.

You wake with your clit throbbing and your pajamas sticking to your skin. You’re lying on your back. Not on your side.

You sit up, dizzy and distracted because what the hell was that?

So you sit there, a little dazed from the ordeal (did you orgasm? You’re not sure), and it hits you that you don’t even know his name.

#loki fanfic #loki x you #loki x reader #smut #incubus loki #reader insert #tom hiddleston #fanfic #by belle

[chimericarchitect]

The Science of Dreams

Saness 

Another night has come and gone. All the peanut butter jars have been returned to their shelves. Tolight, Saness has told Ringleader of her dreams, and of her fears. He has offered to use his voodoos to inspect her mind once she's fallen asleep. After a pumpfelt conversation and a shared bath, the time for such may finally be approaching. It was tricky to coax her into unconsciousness, not for fear of what may come, but because she can't quite will herself to take her loving eyes off of him. 

Eventually though. Eventually she manages to drift off, seemingly falling into an easy slumber, face soft and clear of paint and troubles.

Ringleader 

He doesn't have to take his loving eyes off her and he assures her he ain't goin nowhere. He is paintless as well, and hopelessly in love, and he threatens to knock her out just to see if she takes him seriously. (She probably doesn't.) 

Once she's fully sleeped, his eyes will light up, and he'll sink into her head.

Saness 

(She doesn't.) 

From behind closed eyelids lime does glow purple with his power as Ringleader attempts to join the intangible whisper of Saness's sleeping mind, only for him to succumb without warning to a sensation unfamiliar, a great mental slide moving his awareness physically away from his own body, and hers. 

Except... not from hers? His awareness schlocks to a halt inside of Saness's, and the dreaming girl pauses her action, gaze taking on that same purple glow. He can feel her mind process the looming nature of his presence within her. 

"You're here..." 

To his externalized senses, Saness is OBVIOUSLY in a physical body, in a physical place. Though Ringleader retains his psychic attachment to his own body, his ability to return to himself intact, the physical distance is incomprehensible. Within his awareness of her mind, however, he can feel the translucent haze of slumber, faintly dulling Saness's senses. She's Somewhere Else... but she's not awake.

Ringleader

... Yikes.

Uh? Yikes?

He fumbles vaguely for his dex where he thinks his horn wands might be-- 

Hmm. Apparently he can't control his own body from this distance. Deeply disconcerting! Alright, fine, this is fine, everything is fine and alright and what the fuck where is he-she-they? 

He pushes love at her mind, encouraging her dreamself to consider the surroundings. They may as well get some information, cuz this is gonna Suck in a bit.

Saness 

Saness falls as readily as ever to the press of his familiar will, though she is notably far easier to command in this state, even given the threat of distance-related strain. The feeling of Love makes her smile, a bubble of easy fuzziness that fits so naturally with Ringleader's urging. 

She rises in a swish of comfortable fabric, the sensation of it on her legs having very little to do with weight as she abandons the lounge and closes the uncomfortably short distance between her bed and the wall of her enclosure. 

It's hard, incredibly solid beneath her lavender-washed skin, but it doesn't feel like much of anything. It bears no resemblance to glass nor steel. The color fluxes through opaque and transparent purple, giving only brief snatches of their shared surroundings.

Ringleader 

Hm... He'll have her trace the edge of her surroundings, with her foot and with her hand to see if it's straight or curved. This is... Not what he expected to find, in the realm of her dreams. Aren't there supposed to be castles or something?

Saness 

Ringleader-as-Saness scuffs her lime-slippered foot along the base of the ground, hand trailing over the slowly surging color, no temperature and no texture to speak of. 

It's curved, a nearly perfect dome all around, with a darker seam where it connects with the floor. It's impossible to tell if that's just the color of the floor interacting with it, and whether or not the barrier passes all the way through in a sphere.

Ringleader 

... This is... Deeply disconcerting. He thinks he is tired of bits of her being trapped where they don't need to be. 

He tries to coax her into using her psi to pokey at the wall.

Saness 

He'll find rather swiftly that Saness has no psychic ability, for some reason or another. She operates on muscle memory in her attempt to use her psi, but nothing comes of it. Her own mind flexes uncertainly as she fails to perform the task set out before her, nerves fluttering in her chest. It doesn’t feel the same as wearing a suppressor, it’s like she’s... psych-null, or something.

"That doesn't seem right... So is this a dream, or...?" 

His control over her falters for a moment as a ruffled Saness moves to lean her forehead on the barrier, squinting fuzzily into the beyond. It's the same view as before, dizzying slopes and tiles bent all out of shape; though she notes to herself that she feels clearer than she did the night before.

Ringleader

He soothes at her without trying to overtake her, before his voice manifests in her mind. 

"Definitely a dream. But also definitely real."

Saness 

There he is. She was getting nervous, and the 'voice' to match his presence is immediately reassuring. Also, being a little freaked out helped with the clarity thing for sure, Saness is still growing more wakeful in this dream. 

She takes a slow breath and eases mentally toward his presence of her own accord, sleepily treating what little of him she can engage as a tether. 

"It's harder to feel you than usual... Than when I'm awake, maybe..."

Ringleader 

"It's harder for me to feel myself like this. Don't worry, though, I'm here to help you remember."

Saness 

"Not that there's much to see..." 

She rubs the edge of her fist along the energy-wall in a circle, as though cleaning glass. It does not disperse the color.

Ringleader

"No, there's not. Still. Once we've gotten all the info we can, I'll try to change your dream over."

Saness 

She perks up and nods a "hm!" to nothing, ready to gather... whatever else he thinks he might want.

Ringleader 

... Hm. He doesn't really know. Look at the lounge? Squint up at the sky, see if there's any weirdo buildings up there? ... Try to find some weirdo game sense?

Saness 

Saness really can't sense much of anything! It's a far cry from her usual ability.

The lounge is sturdy, and heavy. It doesn't match the floor underneath, seemingly brought here from somewhere else. In fact, it better matches Saness's bright golden dress. Up above, a ceiling curls away and around the room to somewhere else, viewable whenever the fog clears briefly enough to see out of the dome.

Ringleader 

... He might have the patience to sit and stare and observe if it were his own husk that were trapped and he weren't inside a little dream body, but...

He asks her to check her body last. Make sure it is hers.

Saness

It FEELS like hers, mechanically, but she can't really check for familiar scarring on her waist more than to press through the fabric of her dress, and that... doesn't reveal much. She feels along her neck, however, and THAT... is perfectly smooth, no sign of the damage she took from that collar when she was imprisoned. 

How thoroughly should she check? Is this enough?

Ringleader 

... Final check to make sure she bleeds?

Saness 

Saness obediently puts her claws to the back of her hand and starts to press, but...

... :( 

...Can he do it? 

She seems softer, in her dreams.

Ringleader 

Precious Lumina... He will have her close her eyes and then prick the back of her hand as quick as possible.

... Or at least. Try.

Saness 

Her dreamself jerks the smallest amount when her claws flex against her delicate skin, but no blood has welled forth when he opens her eyes to check. 

The pain was real though.

Ringleader 

... A moment of yearning, before he makes her take her pulse.

Saness 

Ladies and gentlemen, she has a pulse. I repeat, she has a pulse.

Ringleader 

... C...check for finger prints...

This is way more steps than if she had just bled. But maybe this is a robot, he doesn't know.

Saness 

The pads of her fingers are equipped with fanciful fleshy swirls - as is the standard - and what's more, when she presses on her skin it leaves an ordinary and very temporary mark.

Ringleader 

"You are so smart~"

Saness 

She shuffles her slippered feet bashfully, soft soft soft. 

"Will that do?" 

Is it time to see if he can change the dream? She's eager to be rid of this cage.

Ringleader 

"I think that'll do, sweetest beloathed." 

And he will try to shift her dream.

Saness 

He can, as any other time he has Saness under the power of his voodoo, control her perception of her environment. 

Unfortunately, as Ringleader is riding solely on Saness's awareness of the area, it's not immediately evident that nothing has ACTUALLY changed. To all appearances, whatever he makes becomes her reality. It only becomes clear that Ringleader has no effect on the environment when Saness steps forward blindly into the illusion, only to conk into the barrier that remains physically intact. Ouch!

Ringleader 

!!!!!

!!!!!!!!!

He stops directing the dream.

Saness 

The illusion vanishes, and all that remains is the lounge, the dome, and a limeblood rubbing her unpainted face.

Ringleader 

... :o(

"I could try to... Stop you from dreamin?"

Saness 

"...Yeah, okay." 

Saness ambles over to her lounge and stretches out flat on it, looking up to the top of her tiny cage, hands folded daintily over her stomach. 

"But, just try it."

Ringleader 

He tries to pull her away from dreaming at all. Not simply dreaming of nothing, but Not Dreaming.

Saness 

It is akin to forcing someone into unconsciousness, a thing he has to hold down and pin in place. The Saness in the dream passes out, dragging her consciousness into some sloppy rodeo limbo, like it doesn't know where to go. If his reflexes aren't quick or if his psychic strength fails him, Ringleader may be ejected from Saness's mind as though flung from the curve of whiplash, slammed an unknown concept of distance back into his own body.

Ringleader 

He's never had to have reflexes with a willing person, and his psychic strength was running low by the time they got to this point. 

For at least 30 seconds straight, he's out himself.

Saness 

The Saness in the dream flutters back to awareness, slowly, and sits up, confused and alone. 

"Ringleader?" 

Curled up peacefully with the now-unconscious Ringleader of the waking world, Saness's original body dozes on, oblivious.

Ringleader

When he returns to consciousness, his first priority is swearing like a motherfucker.

His second is slipping tentatively into her head to see if she's unconscious.

Saness 

Touching her mind, just skimming the surface as he does when passively scanning for life, will inform Ringleader that the Saness that lays with him has brain activity that is uniquely distant from the surface, like an echo of a dream. 

Actually slipping in to any depth brings him immediately back down that slip-n-slide, all the way to Saness's dreamself with nothing to hold onto along the way. Her eyes turn purple again, and Saness pauses to sigh. He can feel that she was frightened.

Ringleader 

She can feel that he's worried. 

"Ow."

Saness 

She puts her hand on her cheek to reflexively attempt to touch at Ringleader, who is nothing more than a voice inside her head and the feeling of a shadow hovering over her shoulder. Her brow furrows in concern, a pout on her lips. 

"Are you okay...?"

Ringleader 

He loves her for a moment. 

“You threw me out like a fuckin trebuchet."

Saness 

"What? I didn't mean to, I mean, I wouldn't..." 

She curls her toes and gives them a tippy-tap on the floor, thinking, anxious. Her mood is more mutable while sleeping. 

"...Don't do that again, then..."

Ringleader 

.... :o(

"I'm okay. It just was sudden, and my pan is spinnin from the distance... I think I might have to wake you to break you out. Maybe I could keep you out out after, but I think I'd have to keep at it the whole light."

Saness 

"That won't do." 

Her thoughts are poking at his presence with things like 'is he hurt,' 'spinning, spinning-' 'I woke up and you were gone :<' and other similar bubbles of pitiable sadness and loving concern, broken into unspoken chunks of thought. 

"Nothing happens in here. I'll be okay."

Ringleader 

"But can you be alone?"

Saness 

"...I wish there was something to do," she says so sadly.

Ringleader

... Check for dex?

Saness 

Nada.

Ringleader 

:o(

"... I could try to stick with you long enough for a half decent rest...?"

Saness

"You're not tired?" 

She can't help but be obvious when he's inside her mind; dream Saness so blatantly perks up at the thought of being anything but alone.

Ringleader 

"Not so much. Might need to take a break to tend to a bitta a headache, but."

Saness 

"A headache," she whines, sitting down and swinging her weightless legs loosely off the side of the lounge, swish swish swish.

Ringleader 

"Ain't the end of the world. I'd rather deal with that than you alone."

Saness 

She tips her head sideways to squish her cheek into her shoulder, with the intent of expressing 'snuggle my spade' in a movement to no one. She’s trusting, and easy to convince.

"Okay Ringleader. Thank you."

Ringleader 

Her hand rises to press to her lips in a soft little kiss.

"I'll be right back, okay?”

Saness 

She nods, and kisses her own fingers like a dweeb. 

"'Kay."

Ringleader 

He departs from her as gently as he can manage, for his own sake, and then comes back as soon as possible, medicined and holding his wands. Time will be spent entertaining her in whatever way he can without actually being there. And then when the evening comes and she wakes up, he will go the hell to sleep for himself. Not for long, but for long enough to recover.

Saness 

While awake in his stead, Saness will keep watch over her tired spade and contemplate what they learned together in the dream. It feels real, and it feels fake, both at once. 

She checks to make sure her empathy works by keeping Ringleader comfortable and at peace, warding away the fitful demons of his sleep as they come for him.

And so the beginning of her night passes in quiet note taking, gentle frowning, and tender motions.

#ooc eyes only #f2f rp #para #discord rp #carnivalsoration #M!A: OOPS! All Dreamers! #mind control cw #long post #((for tonight and into tomorrow morning #plot

[1988hc]

bright-eyed | 1988 | explicit | 1,988 words

Jonny’s asleep and Pat’s giving him a special gift.

warning: this fic contains rimming, butt plug tails, some conflicted feelings about them, and consensual somnophilia. if that’s not your jam, please don’t read.

Jonny’s asleep. Completely conked out on the bed, dead to the world, face smushed into the mattress. It’s kind of cute. But also kind of hot, because Patrick’s never been able to look at Jonny’s naked body and not want all up in that. Nevermind that he was just that not a few hours ago.

He smirks at the thought, shifting the covers that have mostly slipped off aside a little more, until he can see the full, lush curve of Jonny’s butt. It always takes Jonny a bit, a certain amount of build-up until he’s comfortable letting Patrick close to his ass. Always a piece of work, Jonny. But fuck was it worth it when Pat finally got the go-ahead to bury his face in there, breathing in the musky scent, when he was finally allowed to run his tongue over the soft skin, usually hidden from the world and all the more sensitive for it.

Once Jonny was over that hump, once Patrick’s managed to push past his hang-ups and defenses, it was a sight to behold. Jonny always got vocal, pushing his ass against Patrick’s tongue, arching his back, fingers gripping at Patrick, pulling, moaning loudly, demanding to be dicked down. Pat happily complied.

He shifts, chubbing up a little just from the memories of Jonny clenching around him. Being inside Jonny, sliding his dick in that sweet, sweet ass was like the best feeling in the world. Even if it was a wild ride, Jonny bucking and snarling beneath him, like one of those fake rodeo things Pat had to fight to stay on top.

He grabs the plug, smooth black silicone. Jonny’s skin is warm to the touch, always running hot, and he barely shifts when Pat holds his cheeks open with one hand. Jonny’s still loose, all fucked-out and greedy for more, pushing back when Pat runs the lubed up plug over the tight dark furl of his hole.

For a second Pat thinks about tossing the plug aside and getting in there, finding out how far he could push his tongue into Jonny all loose and sloppy like this, make Jonny come a third time tonight on nothing but Pat’s tongue and fingers this time. It’s fucking tempting, but Pat’s not sure he’s got the stamina for it. They just finished a four day three game homestand, earning themselves two whole days off for their trouble, and Pat’s about ready to pull a Jonny and pass out. They can always pick up where they left off tomorrow.

The toy slips inside Jonny with a minimum of teasing. Jonny breathes out, almost like a sigh, like he’s happy it’s in, keeping him open, keeping Pat’s come securely inside. Pat gives in to one of his sappier urges and presses a kiss to Jonny’s ass cheek, before pulling the sheets up over them both.

***

Jonny wakes up slowly, like he’s underwater and has to fight to reach the surface, his brain still foggy and sluggish. He’s in bed, at home, Pat snoring softly beside him, but something… His whole body feels the kind of sore it does after an intense workout and he stretches, careful not to accidentally kick Patrick and wake him up. He still feels full, like he can still feel the ghost of Pat’s dick, snug against his prostate. Pat had nailed him pretty good last night. But something doesn’t quite track.

There’s something tucked against Jonny’s hip, the feeling different from the blanket, soft and slightly ticklish. He reaches down, even as his brain is frantically fitting the puzzle pieces together, all of it resolving into… His fingers confirm what his mind pieced together just a split-second before.

That’s his tail.

It’s… Jonny clenches his ass, the heavy feeling inside him suddenly making sense as the soft fur of the tail twitches against his thigh. Fuck. He’s wearing his tail.

He can feel the flush creeping up his neck, even though there’s nobody here to see, nobody but Patrick, who’s still sound asleep. Sometime last night Patrick must have gotten it out and slipped it inside Jonny. Just the thought of Patrick going to Jonny’s closet, knowing exactly where to look, slipping out Jonny’s tail from its box, it’s… So much. He can’t fathom Pat’s face as he was carrying it into the bedroom. Did he hold it by the plug, the tail swaying gently with every step? Or did he grip it tight, sinking his fingers between the soft strands? Did he think about what Jonny would look like wearing it?

Jonny squirms, something sharply tugging at his navel from the inside at those thoughts.

He knows Pat’s not… Pat doesn’t get weird over the tail like Jonny does, doesn’t feel the same hot stab of desire at the thought of Jonny wearing it. It’s not his kink. That’s fine. 

Jonny’s always known he’s a freak.

Pat’s cool, had even asked him about it, if Jonny would mind Pat touching it, and Jonny had waved him off, giving Pat blanket permission to get it out whenever. He just figured Pat wouldn’t want to, much less combine it with Jonny’s standing invitation to fuck Jon in his sleep, because they both loved it when Jonny woke up to Pat’s dick so deeply in his ass he felt like he was choking on it, had woken up more than once to Pat gently suckling on his dick. Just never… it never crossed Jonny’s mind as something that he could have, that he might ask for.

His face feels like it’s on fire, the shame and guilt mixing heavy in his gut. He can’t even tell what he’s more embarrassed about, how much he likes wearing it (even if it makes him such a freak, god, he can’t even explain why he likes it so much), or the idea of Pat sliding it into Jonny while he was out cold. It shouldn’t turn him on. He shouldn’t get hard over this. He should just take it out, put it away again before Pat wakes up. The thought sends a wave of dread through him.

Jonny doesn’t want to take it out. He just got it. Pat gave it to him. That means he’s fine with Jonny wearing it, right? But he shouldn’t… Jonny shouldn’t, like, stretch it. Pat was good enough to put it in him, that doesn’t mean he wants to watch Jonny get off on it. Maybe he can lock himself in the bathroom, jerk one out quickly and then put it away again.

He runs his fingers over the soft material, the dark red fur still one of the softest things he owns. Shit, he loves it so much. He’d agonized over it for weeks, browsing the web late at night, pouring over artisan websites and Etsy shops. There’d been so many, so many different varieties to choose from. It’d been overwhelming, almost, clicking through picture after picture, of the most beautiful tails, handcrafted, in all colors of the rainbow. He’d immediately gravitated towards the more natural ones, even though the bright white one with the softest candy cotton rainbow stripes had made him stop and stare for a good while. It was too flashy, though. Not something Jonny could envision ever having the guts to wear, even if it was insanely pretty.

He’d clicked through image after image of cat tails, wolf tails, tiny stubby bunny tufts, extra long ones that would almost hit the ground if Jonny was standing, long enough to wrap around his middle. There’d been two-color ones, spotted ones, a beautiful dark grey one with a white tip that Jonny had dithered over for the longest time. In the end, though, he’d chosen the most beautiful fox tail, one that claimed to be extra fluffy. He’d liked the bushiness of it, the color a burnt orange speckled with darker hairs throughout, attached to a sleek black silicone plug.

Fuck, he loves his tail.

He realizes he’s been running his hand over it, stroking down the length of it, unable not to touch it. His beautiful tail. The day it’d arrived in the mail, Jonny’s heart had been beating in his throat, fingers shaking as he’d carefully opened first the package, and then the storage box it was wrapped in. It had lain like that, open and unwrapped on Jonny’s bedroom dresser for the better part of a week before Jonny had finally worked up the nerve to try it on. He’d allowed himself two glasses of red wine with dinner and then locked the door to his bedroom even though he was alone in his apartment, feeling equal parts ridiculous and excited.

It has lost nothing of its appeal.

***

Pat smiles, watching Jonny fawn over his tail, so absorbed by it he hasn’t yet looked up to catch Pat watching.

“Morning, babe.”

Jonny’s eyes snap up immediately, and Pat has to bite his lip not to laugh at the deer caught in headlights look on Jonny’s face. A second later that look’s gone, though, replaced by wariness, an unease that Pat never meant to put there. Maybe he should’ve feigned sleep, let Jonny have his moment in peace. Nothing for it now.

“Someone woke up bushy-tailed,” he quips, trying to lighten the mood.

“I--” Jonny’s mouth is working, lips shaping words that never come.

Pat’s heart sinks, watching Jonny struggle.

Truthfully, he doesn’t get it, the whole tail thing. Jonny doesn’t like talking about it, clamming up every time Pat’d tried, even though it’s painfully clear how much Jonny adores it. So Pat’s got no idea what it is about the tail that turns Jonny on so much. He doesn’t need to know. If that tail turns Jonny’s crank (and boy, does it ever), then Pat’s content to stay right here, fiddling with the dials.

He shifts closer, closing the gap between them, until he can pull Jonny in enough to press a kiss to his bottom lip, catching it between his teeth. Jonny whimpers, hand catching in the fabric of Pat’s shirt, pulling, stretching out the collar. Pat kisses him deeper.

“You gonna show me, baby?” he whispers, lips moving over Jonny’s, pressing the words right into his skin. “Show me how hot you are with that pretty tail between your legs?”

Jonny makes another noise, choked-off and desperate. Sounding way too wrecked already. “Pat.”

“Yeah, babe. I’m right here.” He pulls Jonny closer, rolls them over until Jonny’s on top of him, knees on either side of Patrick’s hips, weight settled on his thighs. “Touch yourself. Wanna see.”

Jonny’s breathing gone ragged, face bright red, but he does as Patrick’s requested, wrapping a tight fist around his dick. Pat feels like he could get drunk on this, on Jonny’s pleasure, the rhythmic clenching of his thighs as he works his hips, squirming, like he doesn’t quite want to but can’t help himself, falling prey to his own desire.

Fuck. Pat’s gonna buy him all the tails in the world.

“You gonna come for me?” Pat asks, feeling a bit mad himself, reaching around Jonny’s hip, behind his back where Pat can’t see, but he can feel it, right there between their legs. Giving Jonny’s tail a sharp little tug, enough to move the plug inside.

“Aaaah.” Jonny clenches up, whole body going taught, eyes screwed shut as his fist flies over his cock, and fuck, yeah, just like that.

“Fuck, yeah, babe, c’mon, c’mon,” Pat chants, pressing on the plug, pushing it deeper inside Jonny, where Pat’s come’s still in him from last night. God.

Jonny comes with a shout, hard enough that doesn’t manage to catch everything in his fist.

***

“You get any come on my tail and I’ll fucking kill you, Pat.”

***

“You ready to take it out yet, babe?”

“.... no.”

“Uh, you planning on putting on any pants?”

“... no?”

“Well then, I guess we can leave it in.”

[thirteen-beaxhes]

Delayed - Chapter 1: All the Roads

Summary:  "All felt like they knew the others were far away, living ideal lives. They kept to their windows and phones for the ride, thinking about the others. They reminisced separately but prayed for the night to go by fast, to get to the places they needed to go. But the night hadn’t even begun yet." High school ended 6 years ago, and with it, so did the friendship between Andi, Buffy, Cyrus, Jonah, TJ and Amber. But now their flight is delayed and they are stuck in a hotel together for the night. Not much can change in one night, though. Can it?

AO3 LINK IN REBLOG

~~~~~~~

“This sucks,” Buffy groaned down to phone to Marty, who laughed pleasantly in amusement.

“It’s okay Buffy, just a flight delay. It’ll let up,” he said reassuringly.

“No, the flight got cancelled! I have to stay overnight in this hotel they are gonna put up all the people in some hotel,” Buffy said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I’ll only be able to reach by tomorrow afternoon.”

“That’s okay, Buffy. I’m sure if you call up the company, they will be willing to understand.”

“I guess. It’s just so inconvenient.”

“True. But hey, maybe you’ll get some sleep at this hotel now!” Marty said, trying to get Buffy to lighten up. She appreciated his efforts, letting a small smile form on her face.

“I love you, Marty. The bus is gonna reach in some time,” Buffy said.

“I love you too, Buffy. Get some rest, okay?” Marty said, before Buffy ended the call. She looked around her at the other passengers doomed to her fate. Nothing better than being stuck in a situation with people you don’t know, and will never see again. She sighed and opened her phone, checking her social media. Scrolling through a bit, she landed on a picture of her and Marty from back in high school.

High school. Basketball, milkshakes, the Good Hair Crew. Andi and Cyrus. God, it had been so long. High school friends drift apart, but never had they thought back then that it would happen to them. But happen it did. Buffy sighed, scrolling past the picture, pushing away the memories. Dwelling did no good. Buffy was positive that if her friends saw her today, they wouldn’t recognise the person she had become. And a part of her knew she wouldn’t recognise them either. Shutting off her phone, Buffy leaned against the seat, looking out the window as the announcement for the arrival of the bus rang through the air.

At least the night would pass by quick.

*

Andi huffed as she threw down her duffel bag and sank into the shitty airport seat as she waited for more information about the transport to the hotel. She hadn’t had any intention of spending her night there, but cancelled flights called for desperate measures. She pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head, unable to use her phone because it decided it was a good time to conk off. She rummaged through the meagre collection of magazines on the stand next to the seats, and settled for a travel magazine. She opened it and began to read from a random page, wanting only to pass the time. Beads of sweat were already forming on the back of her neck. Despite the air conditioning being on full. Maybe a leather jacket was not the best choice.

Andi busied herself in reading about the ‘5 Restaurants You Have to Try in Prague’, turning the pages lazily, every movement betraying disinterest. At one point, she felt someone’s eyes on her. She turned around to see a guy around her age staring at her intently. With that look in his eyes. She knew that look. She had seen that look.

She despised that look.

“The fuck you looking at?” she asked, making a dismissing motion with her hand as she raised her eyebrows at the guy.  He just smirked at her.

“Can’t a guy just look?” he said in that voice that exuded faux innocence. It sounded like nails on chalkboards to Andi’s ears.

“Well then, can’t I just connect my fist to your nose?” she asked, smiling at him, her eyes fiery. That got him to look away grumbling, not before he whispered, “Bitch,” under his breath.

Andi rolled her eyes and looked back at the magazine, not before shooting looks at all the people who were staring at her after that incident. “What are you watching? Nothing to see here,” she said, moving her hands as if she were shooing them away.

She hadn’t always been like this, so snappy and angry. She had grown up a sweet, albeit dramatic girl. She had a weird but perfect life all the way till high school, with perfect friends and perfect relationships. But life is a bitch.

So you have to be a bitch to survive.

*

Cyrus: sorry mom looks like itll be tomorrow when i get a flight

Mom: oh dear okay cyrus. take care of yourself

Mom: see you tomorrow :)

Cyrus sighed and put his phone in his pocket, cursing the building headache that was making its presence very much known. He shut his eyes for a moment, trying to quell the pain. It was then he really regretted not carrying aspiring with him. Ignoring his headache, he looked around observing all the people sitting there waiting for the bus to the hotel. Diagonally across from him was a girl with brown hair just above shoulder length in a leather jacket, sunglasses perched on her head. She was flipping through a travel magazine rather disinterestedly. She had just told off a guy for staring at her, earning some passing comments about her being ‘rude’, but Cyrus was with the girl on this one. Though he didn’t need to voice his support, she had the situation very much under her control.

For some reason, as he caught glimpses of her, Cyrus couldn’t shake the thought that she looked incredibly familiar. He had the feeling that he knew this girl from somewhere, from a distant point in his life. But he couldn’t place her.

He shook his head slightly. It was probably just a passing similarity. He opened his phone for a distraction, noticing an Instagram notification.

cygoodman, see your post from 6 years ago today

Curious, he clicked on the notification and it took him all the way back to senior year of high school, to baby taters and milkshakes. To the Good Hair Crew.

To TJ.

The picture wasn’t spectacular, it was just a slightly shaky selfie taken by Andi, with him, Buffy, Jonah, Marty, Amber. And TJ. Cyrus’ boyfriend. Well, ‘then’ boyfriend.

The picture made Cyrus’ breath catch in his throat, a wistful smile spreading across his face. It had been over 4 years since he had spoken to anyone in that picture. 5 years since he and TJ had practically broken up. 6 years since they left high school.

6 years since they hammered the last nail into the coffin of their childhood friendship.

High school and childhood friendships don’t always last, they all knew that. It came to no one’s surprise when the messages and video calls grew less frequent, they met up less and less. And soon enough, that was it. There was no great fight, no blowout. It just faded with time. Still, Cyrus couldn’t help but feel a pang of nostalgia for his friends. And for TJ.

TJ Kippen waltzing into his life in middle school was the single most unexpected thing to have ever happened to Cyrus. He came in a cold jock, but it didn’t take Cyrus long to see through the cracks to see the soft side, the kind and caring side. With TJ, Cyrus felt like he could do anything, which was saying a lot. With TJ, nothing was impossible. TJ burned bright like the sun, and for some reason, he saw the moon in Cyrus. But of course, high school ends, and so do high school sweethearts. In the end, it wasn’t an explosion that ended them. It was radio silence. But a part of Cyrus missed him deeply. It was probably why he hadn’t been in a serious relationship since TJ, settling only for the casual and running at the first sign of more.

Where could they all be? Probably further away than he could imagine.

*

“Okay I kinda wish now we didn’t meet up and decide to get this flight together,” TJ groaned as he started to gather his things from around the seat.

Amber scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Please, TJ. You’re grateful I’m here with you, or else you wouldn’t know anyone.”

TJ simply looked away, knowing very well that Amber was right. They were both heading back to Shadyside to meet their parents, and TJ was both dreading and looking forward to it. On one hand, it had been 5 years since he had last been in Shadyside, so it would be good to see the place where he had grown up. But on the other hand, he was dreading his mother pestering him about his non-existent love life. He had only been in 2 real relationships, and only one of them was even worth remembering. But remembering was painful. How fitting that the place he was going back to was also the place that held the memories of that relationship at every corner.

Cyrus Goodman was, and always had been, an enigma to TJ Kippen. He had swung into his life, almost literally, with his soft encouraging smiles and reassuring words, making TJ feel like maybe, letting his guard down wouldn’t mean the monsters would get to him faster. Cyrus had shaken him to the core in the best way possible, and God alone knows how someone as incredible as him could ever have fallen for someone like TJ. Their ups and downs had only made them stronger, but eventually, some downs are just too hard to come back from. College means drifting apart, it means leaving those people behind. It was practically mutual, but it didn’t mean that the memories didn’t come with that mixture of warmth and a sting.

“Yo, TJ,” Amber said, snapping her fingers in front of TJ’s face, bringing him out of his thoughts. “We’re leaving now.”

TJ nodded, taking his bags and following Amber out of the gate to the bus.

Probably better to leave the memories back in Shadyside so he could finally truly move on.

*

Emily: I miss you

Emily: maybe we made a mistake

Amber didn’t need to open her phone to read the messages again. They were burned into the back of her mind. With every step she took forward, the words inched closer to her heart. It didn’t help that just above those messages were the ones where Emily was telling her, ‘I just don’t feel the same way anymore,’ and, ‘It’s not you, it’s me’.

Bullshit. It was always her.

Amber couldn’t believe that Emily even had the balls to send her a message saying she missed her. After she had brutally ripped her heart out and stepped on it with her signature Converse sneakers. That had been a month ago, and it took everything in Amber to try and piece herself back together. That was also part of the reason she was content in returning to Shadyside for a while. She needed a break, and going home seemed the best option. She needed to find herself again. As dramatic as that sounded.

TJ, who was walking next to her, purposely bumped into her, forcing her to smack him upside the head. But she was glad he was there. She didn’t know if she could handle the memories of going home alone.

As she loaded her luggage into the bus, she let her mind wander to Emily. Was it a surprise she liked her? Not at all. She was exactly her type. Brown-haired, sweet and sunshiney personality, and proficient at crafts. There had been one person before her, but that was just a crush, and left at that.

Andi Mack.

Amber smiled to herself, thinking about Andi. Her bracelets, her dressing style, her smile, her laugh. While Amber had crushed on her from afar, that didn’t erase the fact that Andi had become a really good friend of hers. She had helped her change from being the stereotypical mean girl, to being a girl who was tough but let people in. Amber wanted nothing more than to pick up her phone and talk to Andi, reminisce on the old times. But that wasn’t going to happen. They had parted ways. Life had taken them on different paths.

Paths that would never intersect.

*

Jonah Beck got onto the bus, carefully clutching his guitar close to him. His suitcase had been stowed away, and he stared out of the window blankly. His hands were shaking slightly, the flight cancellation putting his on the edge. His breaths were growing incredibly unsteady, and he couldn’t let it get out of control. He pulled on the sleeves of his jacket, scratching himself in the process. Ultimately, opened his wallet and pulled out a highly crumpled picture from it, and smoothed it out, the sight of it immediately calming him down.

It was a Polaroid he, Cyrus, Andi and Buffy had taken the last day of high school. Even though he no longer spoke to them, and their paths had diverged long ago, that picture was one of the only things that truly made Jonah feel at ease. He looked at it so often that the creases were growing at an alarming rate. But he didn’t care. It went with him wherever he would go.

Loosely clutching onto the picture, he looked out the window as the bus moved, thinking about their whole friend group. Andi, Buffy, Cyrus, Amber, TJ, Marty. Where were they? What were they doing? He knew they would probably be far, far away, living their perfect lives. He smiled to himself, just wishing they all also missed high school, even if it was just for a second. He leaned against the window, closing his eyes, falling into a restless sleep until the bus reached the hotel.

*

As the evening progressed slowly into night, Andi, Buffy, Cyrus, TJ, Amber and Jonah sat in the bus to the hotel, all starting out thinking about their broken, messed up, confused lives. And all of their trains of thoughts leading to the same station. Them in high school.

All felt like they knew the others were far away, living ideal lives. They kept to their windows and phones for the ride, thinking about the others. They reminisced separately, but prayed for the night to go by fast, to get to the places they needed to go.

But the night hadn’t even begun yet.

~~~~~~~~

So I got this idea like a while ago, and I'm finally writing it! This is another multi-chapter, so let's do this kids.

HMU if you wanna be tagged in future updates! It may take time to update, with the au and stuff.

#andi mack #fanfiction #buffy driscoll #cyrus goodman #tj kippen #jonah beck #marty from the party #amber kippen #amber #andi #muffy #tyrus #ambi #jandi #delayed fic #my fic #fanfic

[grant-spiraltf]

The Summer Is Magic - Grey

@writer-ofstuff was having a good day at home until an email arrived in his inbox which he never thought he’d get. “FIRED?!” As he read the email, it became clear to him that there was no alternative. “Blah blah budget cuts... Blah blah deeply regret YEAH RIGHT if you ‘deeply regretted it’, then why am I fired!” After rereading it multiple times, Writer had enough. He grabbed his coat and headed out. At least 4 shots later, he finally felt all the worries about the future fall off his shoulders. The (kinda cute) bartender came up to him and told him that the bar was closing and much to his surprise, it was already 4 AM! So he asked the handsome lad for one last beer and his number, which he both received with a wink. He clumsily opened the beer and he was welcomed by an unfamiliar smell. “Hey, did you give me a speciality beer?” The barman smiled and said, “Yep, on the house if you allow me to drive you home” before continuing to clean up. Writer took a swig and immediately felt lightheaded. It was probably the beer mixing with the other drinks, but it felt weird anyway. He took another good look at the label, but it all started to blur so he took another good look at the liquid inside. “Why’s this beer grey? Hello?” He glanced around but the bartender was gone. Suddenly the bottle started to vibrate, grabbing his attention again and when he looked at it again, the bottle found its way back to Writer’s mouth and he started chugging it all. Once it was empty, the bottle vanished and Writer felt like a veil was being pulled over his conscience. He looked around one last time and found the bartender leaning against the wall, only with a completely different (and gorgeous) face. With a few blinks that kept getting slower and slower, Writer finally blacked out.

Colin was absolutely smashed. He bantered with his friends about having “Pirate’s Blood”, but once he got started he really didn’t like stopping. So when his buddy Josh Dallas invited him over for a drinking night because the wife conked out, he planned on going all the way. Luckily Josh had a spare bedroom so he didn’t have to travel afterwards. Last time they did this and Colin prepared to go home he passed out in the hall and Josh let him sleep there, so this time he made sure he had a bed reserved.

After 3 beers Josh’s speech had already started to slur. Although he was quite a big fella, alcohol was Josh’s greatest weakness. Colin had downed twice as much but he was nowhere near as drunk. He started talking about all sorts of things that were sort of TMI, like how Gennifer tended to make him eat her out while he had said that he didn’t enjoy doing it. Luckily Colin was able to swing the conversation back to normal stuff with a little effort. After nearly avoiding a conversation about dick size by swinging it to Josh's new personal trainer via bicep size, something weird happened. Although there was no storm outside, somehow a gust of wind was forceful enough to open a window and blow something inside. Colin couldn't really see what it was and he was about to go take a look when drunk Josh pushed him back into the seat and told him that he got it covered. Josh bent over, nearly falling but somehow managing to stay up and he got back up again with some weird glowing ball in his hands. “Lol, this looks like something from the show haha, a magic orb-” Josh was wheezing from his own joke when it emitted a bolt of lightning that struck him right in the chest. Colin was a little tipsy before but now he was 100% sober again. He rushed towards his fainted friend while the blog exited the building the way it came in.

After a thorough inspection, Josh seemed to be fine. “He probably passed out again. Fuck that means that I have to carry him to his bed.” Colin dreaded this because he nearly threw out his back last time that he had done that. Suddenly Josh opened his eyes and gasped for breath. He frantically looked around for a moment before noticing Colin leaning over him, and his facial expression changed from shock to something that Colin hadn't seen before. He backed off a little so Josh had enough space to get back up, but Josh wrapped his hands around his neck and pulled him closer. Since it was a pretty hard fall it wasn’t weird for Josh to feel weak, and getting zapped sure didn’t help. He tensed his back muscles to give his buddy a solid way to get up, but Josh didn’t get any farther than a foot off the ground. In fact, he just hung around his neck and staring into his eyes like a sloth. Colin was about to say something about how this was kinda gay until he saw that Josh’s eyes were a little more blue than usual. “What the fu-” was all he could say before getting shut up by Josh’s lips.

Colin wanted to push Josh back down and leave, but somehow he couldn’t get himself to do it. The feeling of Josh’s tongue trying to enter his mouth and his heavy breath somehow made him care less about what was happening and just go with the flow. Josh moaned loudly and the breath that came out of his mouth smelled like vanilla, which made Colin’s cock leak precum. This confused him. He felt an insane need for Josh and wanted nothing more than cater to Josh’s every need, but he also was deeply disgusted and wanted to leave immediately. Meanwhile, Josh had started pawing his crotch and tweaking his nipples until Colin couldn’t hold back anymore. He started undoing his pants and grabbed his erect cock, hoping that his lover would suck him off, but when he looked back at Josh he noticed another change in his demeanour. From shock to lust he had gone earlier, but now there was no emotion whatsoever. Josh pushed him back into the couch and Colin hoped that he was gonna dominate him, but to Colin’s surprise Josh stuffed his cock back in his pants, put on his coat and left without saying a word. Since he was extremely erect, Colin decided to jack off to the thought of Josh’s throbbing cock in his mouth. After his fantasy evolved to Josh fucking him in his ass while making out with him, Colin couldn’t hold back his orgasm anymore. He came hard and covered his face with his own cum, catching a few ropes in his mouth. He breathed heavily and smelled a familiar vanilla smell.

Colin looked around. “Josh? Are you back? I came without you, but if you give me a minute I’ll be ready for another round!” Colin quickly devoured all of the cum that was on his face and body, but he didn’t find Josh. Instead, he heard the clanking of a bottle hitting wood behind him and he saw a brand new beer bottle standing on the table. “Okay, I know I said the last one was the last one, but I can’t resist an open beer and you know that Josh! So where are you?” He playfully searched the room for his playmate, but he couldn’t find him anywhere so he picked up the bottle. “GS Specialty Beer? Josh where did you get this? I’ve never heard of this brand.” Colin smelled it and loved the vanilla, so he took a chug. Somehow the beer tasted perfect, but it felt kind of slimy in his throat. After two more chugs he was disappointed by a lack of more booze, so he put down the bottle and burped. And he burped again. Soon he was burping so much that it looked like there was something trying to come out of him. It was then that he heard a little voice in his mind, asking him what was happening. Thinking that this was all just a bad trip or something, Colin laid down on his side and closed his eyes.

When Writer woke up, he had no idea where he was or who he was. All he knew that something strange had happened like in the stories he wrote like he now possessed someone. He stood up and was hit immediately by a sharp pain. “Fuck, I hate hangovers.” He grasped his throat and found new muscular hands massaging his unshaven neck. He stood up, still a little dizzy from all the booze, and ran to the mirror, only to find the handsome Colin O’Donoghue staring back at him, fully naked and fully erect. One tug on the sizable cock was enough to not only make him moan but also a voice in his head. “Colin?” “Fuck yeah, stroke that cock.” Writer found his new hands immediately obeying the orders and he started stroking his dick. After minutes of flexing and stroking, he finally blew his load over the mirror. With gusto, he licked it all up and went on with his day.

“Buddy it’s been a month now, you know damn well that when you drink too much, I get stuck with the consequences!” Writer was mad at his host, but Colin knew damn well it wouldn’t take long. Turns out that they would continue losing control to the other every time they went to sleep. Colin knew that he shouldn’t dump his hangovers on his new partner, but at least he now had no downsides to drinking anymore! “Ugh fine, you know I can’t stay mad at you for long. But that means that next time that Josh is gonna fuck us, I’m making sure he’s gonna fuck us so hard that you’ll feel it for the rest of the day. Colin laughed inside. Like that was a punishment!

#tf story #celeb tf #tf series #grant-spiraltf #writer tf #writer-of-stuff #colin o'donoghue #summer is magic #writing event

[ilovemesomekillianjones]

Holding On to Pieces of Us

Thanks to all you lovelies who took time to tell me what you like about this story. Reviews really do make me smile from ear to ear! @hollyethecurious provided her fab beta skills for this chapter, but of course any and all mistakes are my own. In case we still have to say it, these characters are not mine, I just enjoy playing with them. Go See @spartanguard ‘s lovely art! @kmomof4 thanks for putting together this spectacular CS Supernatural Summer! **I swear on Killian Jones’ Red Vest of SEX that I put a cut/read more line on this chapter.**  I tagged a few readers who requested it, or left a kind review. If you’d like to be added or removed from the tag list let me know! Hope you enjoy chapter 2! Edited to include the link to the artwork for chapter 2 by @spartanguard

ao3     ffnet     tumblr ch.1

CHAPTER 2

Before Emma was even cognizant of where she was, she threw the car in park. Exiting, she slammed the door behind her and headed out into the vast wilderness. Solace. A place close to her heart. She ran and ran, not sure what she was looking for, she headed deep into the woods, running from everything that was crushing her.

About two years ago...

After months of fighting, bickering, sexual tension, innuendo, finally they’d cut through the bullshit. When they’d realized that they both wanted more than a quick fuck, he’d asked her out on a date. Told her he wanted to court her properly.

“Where are we going?”

“Solace, Swan. Now have patience, you’ll see soon enough.”

She was barely able to sit still, fidgeting nervously as she waited to arrive at their destination. She was elated to spend time with him outside of work, and away from prying eyes.  

He chuckled at her, then reached over and squeezed her knee, “Relax, we’re going somewhere peaceful, quiet, just us.”

“I can’t relax. I don’t know… I’m just… happy.”

Killian pulled the car over, then turned in his seat. “Aye love, me too.” Reaching out to caress her cheek he leaned forward and kissed her gently.

“It’s kind of a new feeling at my age, to be happy and excited like a little kid.”

“You say it like you’re eighty years old.”

“I say it like I was a kid who didn’t get happy and excited for too much.”

“Why’s that, lass. Spoiled brat? Stoic teen?”

“Foster kid.” Emma held her breath and waited for his reaction. She fell a little bit in love with him the moment she saw no pity in his eyes, just a mutual understanding.

~♥~

She didn’t recognize where she was, she’d strayed from the path; it wasn’t called the Forest City for nothing, there were thousands of trails, most of them well traversed. It was freezing outside, and drab clouds had begun to roll in. The wind whipped around her, and she cursed under her breath as she looked at the sky. It was going to pour, but what did it matter. She was dying anyhow, maybe hypothermia would take her sooner.

About two years ago...

“It’s beautiful, Killian.” There was awe in her voice, and admiration on her face. “How’d you find it?”

“This is my first time to this specific place. Have you never been hiking in the Forest City? All of the trails have little hidden oases like this.”

Emma shook her head, admittedly she didn’t get to the great outdoors as much as she probably should. It was absolutely breathtaking.

“I try to get out to hike at least once a month. With our job, sometimes I just need the solace of nature around me. You must make sure to always stay on the path though, Swan.”

“Oh, yeah. Why’s that?”

“Rumor has it there’s a portal somewhere in this forest and it leads to a land with all manner of creatures, monsters, and supernatural beings.”

“What is wrong with you?” she laughed. “And here I thought you were an intelligent, well balanced, healthy, red-blooded, male. Now I find out you believe in the boogie man?”

“Oi! I’m all those things, I just have an appreciation for other worldly beings, never say never.”

“What is your proof they exist?”

“What is your proof they don’t?”

“Fair point,” she conceded.

“Plus, you yourself are a siren, what more proof should I require?”

~♥~

Emma shivered uncontrollably as the rain began to cascade down in sheets.  Her hair clung to her forehead and her clothes became heavy. She might’ve felt cleansed had she not been told mere hours before that she had a poison running rampant inside her body. Spotting an enclosure in a huge rock, Emma jogged toward it and took cover.  

About two years ago...

“Didn’t you check the weather forecast?”

“Of course I did!” Killian answered offendedly. He opened the pack he’d carried up and pulled out a nylon bag. “Let it never be said that Killian Jones is unprepared,” he gloated as he pitched quite possibly the smallest tent Emma had ever seen.

“We’re staying?”

“We’re not walking out in this weather. This darling is a flash flood. We’re on high ground so shelter in this one man tent is all we require. We won’t flood up here.”

“Well it’s gonna have to be a one man and one woman tent, now.”

“After you, milady,” he extended his hand and bowed low.

She snagged his hand and pulled him inside the tent giggling the whole time. It was a crowded affair as Killian dug through his bag of tricks. He pulled out a small battery operated lantern, then set to work rolling out a sleeping bag. They took their shoes off and sat opposite each other.

“Are you a little cold, Swan?”

She looked up at him to see he was leering at her breasts. Her nipples were freezing to the point of painful, and no doubt poking through her soaked cotton shirt. “This was all part of your plan, wasn’t it? Proper courting, my ass.”

Killian licked his lips and continued to appraise her, clothes clinging to her every curve, goosebumps lining her soft skin, lips begging to be tasted. “That would be very bad form, love,” he whispered, though his devil may care grin belied his words.

“What are you waiting for then, Jones? You gonna get your ass over here and warm me up, or let me freeze to death?”

He only needed to be asked once, pouncing on her like prey to his predator.

~♥~

What she wouldn’t give to have that one man tent now. And she’d give double for Killian. She shivered as the wind continued to wail and the torrential rains pelted down. As the adrenaline of running through the forest began to wear off, the emotions began to creep in. I’m dying, she thought. But if she were honest with herself, her spirit had been slowly dying since Killian had disappeared. Trying to accept that he was gone forever, dead, had sent her spiraling into a hallucination riddled existence where she was now seeing him. Maybe this is for the best. Tears welled up in her eyes and she wondered if they were tears of sadness, or tears from the thought that maybe she’d see him again after death.

She laid down on the sodden ground, unwilling to try to find her way out. Out of the forest, out of her dark reality… unwilling to fight against the inevitable. Emma curled in on herself and wished for the world to swallow her up. Sobs trembled through her whole body as she let loose her emotions, all of them. Long, painful cries flowed from her as she unabashedly released everything she’d held in for the past year.  

Anger at Killian for leaving her in this world alone.

Heartbreak at having lost the only love she’d ever known.

Hatred at the cancer that was going to ultimately consume her.

She cried until there was nothing left but the harsh, jagged breaths that came from being cried out to exhaustion. She held tightly to the pieces of memory on her chain, letting the bite of the metals pressed into her palm serve as a reminder of what she’d lost.

Emma immediately knew when peaceful sleep had come for her, that she was dreaming, when she heard his gruff lilt scolding her for not taking care of herself. She didn’t even care if it was a dream.

“Killian,” she murmured, “I miss you.” He scooped her up, and she felt like she was home. She needed to tell him so much before he left again. “I love you, Killian.”

~CS~

Emma slowly blinked into consciousness, eyes opening and focusing on unfamiliar surroundings. “What the hell? Where am I?” She looked around the small area from her supine position on the bed. There was a fire burning in a small fireplace, a small table with two chairs, a refrigerator, a couch, and a dimly lit lantern off in a corner. The windows were all covered so she couldn’t tell what time of day it was. Deciding that the need to use the bathroom and get a glass of water outweighed the dull headache she was fighting, she rose from the bed.

After tripping over her clumsy feet on the way to and from the bathroom, she made her way to the tiny kitchen area. She grabbed a glass from the cupboard, filled it from the tap after letting it run for a minute, and drank deeply. Her stomach growled loudly in response to the icy water. Emma felt a bit like Goldilocks, she was invading on whoever lived here, whoever had so kindly pulled her in from the woods after she’d conked out.

It was obvious the place had been occupied recently, perhaps there was fresh food. Emma rummaged around through the few cupboards, to no avail. Since there was no porridge cooking for this Goldilocks, she made her way to the refrigerator. Placing her hand to pull it open, she paused, it felt like an invasion to open a stranger’s fridge.

About a year and a half ago...

“You look good in my shirt, love. Perhaps you should start dressing that way everyday?”

Emma was bent over his refrigerator, in his shirt and nothing else, looking for something to snack on. All the activity they’d been engaging in had her ravenous. “I’m starving,” she said, ignoring the compliment save for the blush it’d put on her cheeks.

“Me too,” he growled grabbing her around the waist and pulling her against his hard body. He nipped and sucked at her neck roughly, “I’ll always be starving for you.”

Emma moaned as he caressed her body with his hands and mouth. “Baby, you can have your fill anytime, but I was actually speaking of food right now.”

“I know, darling.” Killian picked her up and sat her on the counter.  “Allow me to prepare you something.”

~♥~

Emma sighed morosely as yet another memory assaulted her. Bitter, bittersweet memories, mourning, and impending death, how much longer did the doctor say I had? Emma thought. At least now she wouldn’t have to wonder how long it would take to get over Killian. The answer was she’d never be over him, not until the day she died, and that was now remarkably closer.

Her stomach growled again, pulling her from her well deserved melancholy. Looking at her watch, which told her it was three in the afternoon, she realized she’d slept almost an entire day. It’d been even longer since she’d eated, and there was no way she wanted to try to venture back to her car without eating a little something first. Surely this stranger who’d brought her in wouldn’t mind her nibbling a little something before she took her leave.  

Opening the door, Emma screamed and slammed it shut. “What the fuck!” Peering inside once more she confirmed what she’d seen the first time. Piled inside the refrigerator was nothing but bag after bag of blood. Closing it quietly, Emma turned and tiptoed to the front door. Macabre thoughts of a psycho killer harvesting her organs and drinking her blood swam through her head as she inched toward the door. Who knew if this crazy was still in the cabin.

“Goddammit!” she muttered when she tripped again. All pretense was forgotten when she regained her balance, yanking the front door open, she took off running into the forest. Emma didn’t try to glean any sense of direction as the only thought in her head was self preservation?

Sharp branches caught at her clothes and scratched her skin as she continued running. Each heaving breath became more painful than the last the further she ran. She was running out of steam.

“Ouch!” Emma stumbled to the ground after her foot came down on a rock buried under the foliage. Falling to the ground she grabbed her ankle in pain. “Fuck, what the fuck else? Huh? What else you wanna throw my way?” she screamed toward the darkening evening sky. Picking herself up, she continued limping away from the cabin of horrors. With no idea where she was heading, shooting ankle pain, the elements setting in, not to mention her already established problems, Emma was about to give up. “Cell phone!” she exclaimed, digging in the pocket of her jacket.  

“What the hell?” Looking down at herself it dawned on Emma that she wasn’t wearing her jacket anymore, or even the same clothes she’d had on yesterday.  Even more confusing was the fact that they were her clothes, just not the same ones. I’ve completely lost it, I’ve gone off the deep end. Emma Swan, loony tune.

She tried to cheer herself up as she continued to limp on what was surely a severely swollen ankle, by telling herself that her phone probably wouldn’t have a signal anyway. She walked for what felt like miles when she came to a stream and sat down next to it. Looking at her reflection she decided to drink the water, “What’s the worst that’ll happen? Already dying, may as well drink up.” She scooped the water and drank to soothe her parched throat.

“This is the end,” Emma said, deciding she could be as dramatic as she damn well pleased. “I’m tired, hurt, cold, sick, sad, hungry, lost… alright universe. You’ve won. I give up.”

Laying back on the damp forest floor she looked up at the trees, she could see bits of the dark sky peeking through. A few tears welled in her eyes, and she chuckled at the irony.  Usually giving up meant not caring anymore. Apparently Emma Swan still cared. Spotting the first star of the evening she focused intently, “Star light, star bright, First star I see tonight; I wish I may, I wish I might, Have the wish I wish tonight.”

Squeezing her eyes tightly, Emma made a wish.

“What’d you wish for, love?”

Inhaling audibly, Emma jumped in her spot.  She hadn’t heard that voice in… well since she’d dreamed it a few hours ago.  “Dammit. I wished it wrong.” She jumped again at the loud laughter that came from him. He seemed so real.

“How so?”

“Well, I wished to be with Killian, uh, with you.”

“And here I am.”

“I meant to wish to be with you forever, after I die. Not in dreams and hallucinations.”

“When you die?”

Emma shook her head at the surreal feeling. “I cannot believe I am sitting here having a conversation with the hallucination form of the love of my life. Or… have I died? Am I dead? Did the psycho from the house of horrors kill me already? Did I die last night in the freezing rain? Are you here to guide me to the next dimension or realm or whatever it’s called?”

The hallucination laughed at her again, and she found herself laughing along with the familiar, and sorely missed sound.  

“Maybe I can answer some of your questions, lass. Where to start?” He rubbed his palm along the scruff of his chin like he always did when he was contemplating something. “First off, no, you’re not dead. I am not here to lead you to another plain of existence or anything like that. And I do believe I am the psycho from the house of horrors, as you called it.”

Emma sat up quickly, “What do you mean?”

“What if I told you I am your Killian, and I am real?”

“I’d say my imagination is a cruel fucking asshole.”

“I’m not from your imagination, Swan.”

“Stop it! Only the real Killian gets to call me that.” The hollow feeling in her chest and heart ached now. Only he had ever called her Swan like that. This was torturous, having her own imagination play tricks on her.  “I’ve been seeing you for the last year, you’ve never said a word, the real Killian never would have done that.” Emma pinched herself hard, trying to wake herself, or snap out of the haze.

“You can pinch yourself all you want, but I assure you, you’re not dreaming, and you are not hallucinating.”

“Prove it.”

Emma sat frozen as he walked toward her then sat down next to her.  He slipped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her against his side. She relished the feeling of him, she could smell him, this was by far the realest of any encounter she’d had with him over the past year.

“Would you be able to feel me? Smell me?”

“Maybe,” Emma murmured. “The mind is a powerful entity.”

“Then perhaps this,” he said holding her bracelet out to her, “I know you’re wearing the matching necklace, my necklace.”

Emma jumped up, and Killian followed suit. Sure any rendering of Killian would know about the necklace and bracelet, her mind conjured him. But how the hell was he holding the bracelet that was on her wrist. Automatically reaching for her wrist, she realized it wasn’t there anymore. She stared at him with wide eyes.

“Please don’t be afraid of me.”

“I’m not afraid, I’m just confused. Where did you get that?”

He reached out to fasten the bracelet around her wrist. “It fell off where I found you passed out and half frozen last evening.”

Emma hesitantly reached out to touch his face, “Is it really you?”

“Aye Swan, in the flesh... so to speak.”

“Killian?” She threw her arms around his neck and cried, but the tears weren’t of sadness this time. She cried tears of joy as she rained kisses on his face.

“What… how are you here?”

“I was-”

“I don’t care. I don’t care how you’re here. I’m just glad you’re here.”

“Me too, love. I’m sorry it took me so long.”

Taking her by the hand he started to lead her back the way she’d come from, then stopped. “You’re hurt, allow me.” Killian picked her up bridal style so she wouldn’t have to walk on her bad ankle.

“It’s really you, isn’t it?” she whispered.

“Aye.”

Emma broke down into sobs. “I… Killian… where have you been? Why did you leave me?”

“I’ll explain everything. First, let’s get you warmed up.”

She hit his chest in frustration as a new pain came over her. “I’m… I’m dying. I finally found you, and now I’m dying. The universe wanted to kick me one last time.”

“Emma, calm down, I’ve got you, you’re not going to die out here. There is much we need to talk about. Working yourself up won’t help.” Killian looked into her eyes, beseeched her, “Rest, love, I’ll wake you when we arrive.”

She was out before she could argue about needing to stay awake so he wouldn’t disappear again.

~CS~

When she woke next, she was in yet another unfamiliar place. “Killian?” she called out into the darkness.

“I’m here, Swan.”

She looked across the small room to where he sat at a desk reading.

“I thought it was all a dream again.”

“I assure you, I am not a dream. Possibly a nightmare, but not a dream.”

“What?”

“Never mind, lass. I know you have many questions, and I have a lot of explaining to do. I want to attempt to tell you everything right now, that way you have all the information before you make a decision.”

“A decision about what?”

“About whether or not you wish to stay with me.”

“I’ll stay with you forever. My forever just isn’t that long anymore… I’m dying.”

“Why do you keep saying you’re dying?”

“Because I am. I was diagnosed with stage four brain cancer the day I wandered into the woods. I don’t have long, but I’ve already decided, I don’t care how short the time, I want to be with you.”

“Oh, Emma, no my love, I’m so sorry I haven’t been here for you. That you had to receive that news on your own.”

“It was harder to lose you. So no matter what you have to say, I’m not going to change my mind.”

“Please let me tell you everything before you decide. I don’t want to get my hopes up if you decide you can’t bear to be with me.”

Emma rolled her eyes at him, “Not gonna happen.”

“Be that as it may, allow me to put my eternal soul at ease.”

"Well at least come keep me warm?” she asked, patting the empty bed.

A pained expression crept across Killian’s face. “After we talk.”

“Okay,” Emma agreed, pulling the blanket snugger to her body. “Have you met someone else, Killian? Were you with someone else this whole time?” She knew the questions seemed out of the blue, but he had left for a year, reappeared, hadn’t so much as kissed her, wouldn’t sit with her, and was acting altogether odd.

“Of course not! I love only you, I’m just not sure you should love me anymore.”

“No one tells me who I should or should not love, Killian Jones, not even you.”

He chuckled at that, and Emma smiled in return, glad to see him a bit more at ease.

“Okay, so enough with the cloak and dagger act, just tell me what you need to tell me.”

“Christ you make it sound simple.” Killian ran his hand through his hair nervously and bounced the ball of his foot.

“It is simple!” she coaxed with a hopeful smile, trying to convince him to tell her whatever secret he thought he’d had to hide for a year.

“I’m a vampire.”

Emma laughed, not just a little, but really bellowed. She clutched at her stomach when it started to ache. “Spectacular ice breaker, now go ahead.”

Killian threw his hands in the air, unsurprised that she didn’t believe that curve ball. “Right then. The day that you stayed home sick while Mary Margaret, David, and I went hiking, I was attacked.”

Emma’s laughter stopped when he unceremoniously plunged into his story.

“We were heading up toward Cartographer’s Bluff, I was in front of the lovebirds, for obvious reasons, when I saw movement off in the distance. I followed thinking maybe it was a deer or elk. That’s when it happened. I had no idea what it was. It attacked and dragged me away.”

Silent tears slid down Emma’s cheeks as she listened to Killian.

“I don’t know how long I was unconscious for, but when I came to the first time, I was overwhelmed with fire coursing through my body. I was disoriented, scared, and angry.  I was in and out of consciousness and each time there was a woman who told me I’d be okay. When I finally emerged from whatever had taken hold over me, I was different. I didn’t know how at first, but I knew I was different. Eventually the woman revealed herself again, she told me she’d teach me everything about our kind.”

“Your kind?”

Killian eyeballed her, silently pleading with her to let him finish, lest he chicken out.

“Sorry, continue,” she said softly.

“She taught me how to survive, took me into her home, this home. Eventually she wanted more from me, she wanted things I couldn’t give. I told her about you, hoping she’d understand that while I appreciated all she’d done for me, my heart belonged to you.

She became enraged. Said she couldn’t believe I would choose a mortal over her, after all she’d done for me. After creating me. When I asked her what she meant, she told me she’d made me, she had wanted a companion after being alone for decades.”

Emma’s breath was stuck in her throat as Killian’s story took root, as she began to understand exactly what he was telling her.

“I went into my own tailspin of rage, I couldn’t believe what she was telling me, that she’d selfishly taken and changed my life to suit hers. That she’d irrevocably changed my future, our future, Swan. When she threatened you, I had no other choice.”

“What choice,” Emma asked hesitantly when Killian paused.

“I… I killed her, Emma.” He looked at her in earnest, willing her to accept the truth of his words. “She left me no choice, I couldn’t stand the thought of your life ending.”

“Oh, Killian,” Emma cried. She stood up, not caring that he wanted to wait until after she’d heard him out. She couldn’t handle seeing him in pain any longer. Kneeling on the floor in front of where he sat in his chair, she reached a hand up to run through his hair. “Killian, it’s okay.”

“I’m a murderer, Swan. Whether she deserved it or not, whether all of them deserved it or not, I am a murderer.”

“I don’t care, I love you, no matter what.”

“I love you, too.” Killian slid from his chair kneeling as she was and closed his arms around her waist.

Emma comforted him as he buried his head in the crook of her neck. “It was you, wasn’t it? It was you who drained all my murderers? Is that what you meant by all of them?”

“Aye, lass. Still sharp as ever.” Killian stood up, lifted Emma and walked to the bed. Tucking her beneath the blanket, he stayed atop it, and laid his head in her lap. “It was the evening after I killed her, three months into my new life, and the urge to see you was so strong it physically hurt. I closed my eyes and I remember thinking about what it was like to hold you, what you felt like, smelled like, then suddenly I wasn’t in my room anymore. When I opened my eyes, there you were. I didn’t know how I’d done it, but I’d transported to you. I heard you say my name, Swan. It was the best moment of my new existence. Then I saw you collapse, I heard the pain in your voice, and it became the worst.”

She’d missed this, laying together, touching, talking. This was by far the strangest conversation they’d ever had, but she was okay with it, she was just overjoyed to have him back. Emma had been running her fingers through his hair, but stopped abruptly. “Is that why you stayed away for so long?”

“It is.”

“Why did you come back?” she asked out of genuine curiosity, before resuming her ministrations.

“Because I’m weak. Once I learned I could transport, I started studying your cases at the station during the night. The first time you saw me was at the crime scene of my maker’s last victim. For all her evil, it’s a smart way to live. I decided I’d wait for you to solve your cases, then take your murderers. They would be condemned anyhow. I never meant for you to spot me. I selfishly needed to see you, and there were many times that I did, and you never had a clue. But then there were those times that you did, the last time was the hardest. I watched you that night after you drank and cried yourself to sleep, and I vowed it was the last time. That was until you quite literally showed up in my neck of the woods, intent on freezing to death while passed out in the pouring rain.”

“Is that how I ended up in my own clothes? You transported home to get them.”

He nodded his head with a grin on his face. Home. Emma was catching on quickly and adapting quite easily.  

“What about Scarlet, was that you assisting?”

Killian chuckled, “Yes, that was me. I would love to see that shiny commendation you earned.”

“I didn’t earn it, you did. David and I fought for weeks about who did and didn’t take Scarlet out. I finally gave up when he half jokingly threatened to 5150 me.”

“Sorry, love, I was just trying to keep you safe.”

“I know,” she spoke softly. “So…”

“Ask away, I want you to know everything before you choose. Anything goes.”

Emma had thousands of thoughts swimming around in her head. The problem was, when there are that many thoughts, and so much that is not understood it is hard to even know where to begin. She tried to sort through them to ask the pertinent ones first. “What do you need to survive?”

“I wasn’t joking when I said I am vampire. Surprisingly many of our television shows got enough of the bits and pieces correct, must be some vamps in Hollywood.” Killian stood up and walked toward her, then held his hand out.

Taking his hand without hesitation, Emma let him lead her to a closet. When he opened the door there was a ladderwell. Looking at Killian’s calm face, cocked eyebrow, and inquisitive eyes, she read in his expression the request for her to trust him. And she did, implicitly. He climbed up first and Emma followed.

“Hey, my ankle doesn’t hurt anymore, do you have magical healing powers?”

When they emerged in the room above, Killian closed the small hatch in the floor. “I’m not sure I’d call what I have magical, but yes, I fixed you up.”  

“That’s a pretty handy skill,” she commented as she looked around. She was surrounded by a place she’d been before. “So this is what I tripped on like fifty times earlier today,” Emma said, pointing to the handle of the hatch door they’d just come through. “The house of horrors,” she murmured, eyeballing the familiar room. Her clothes from yesterday were laid out in front of the fire, and her phone was plugged in.

Killian chuckled, “I suppose, but why do you call it that? I thought I did a pretty nice job of making it look as though a vampire does not live here.”

“Next time keep the blood in your downstairs hideaway,” she deadpanned.

“Ah, so you saw that. That’s what I was going to show you, that is what I subsist on.”

“Only blood?”

“Aye.”

“Do you want my blood?”

Killian’s eyes widened and his pupils visibly dilated all at the same time. He raised his hand to scratch nervously behind his ear. “Aye,” he whispered hoarsely. “Does that scare you? Disgust you?”

Emma stepped into his space. “Nothing about you scares me, or disgusts me. But will my blood poison you? Because of the cancer.”

“I’m immune to human disease as I’m not human anymore, I’m not even alive.”

She placed her hands on his hips and fixed him with what she hoped was her most assured expression. “Then drink,” she offered, craning her neck for his perusal.

Killian grabbed her hands in his and brought them between their bodies. He hung his head and inhaled deeply. “Gods, Swan. You’ll be the death of my undead soul.”

“What’s wrong?” Emma stepped back, feeling the sting of his rejection.

“I want to, believe me, I want to. But I need you to be sure. I need you to take more than a few minutes. Weigh your options.”

“What options, Killian?” She was growing incensed with his failure to understand that all she wanted was to spend the rest of her days with him. “I can live and die alone, or live and die with you, it’s a no-fucking-brainer. Why won’t you let me choose it?”

“I know it’s hard for you to understand, but I need to know that you’ve considered everything I am saying. I would never forgive myself if you regretted one moment of what we share from now until…”

“Until I die,” she finished for him.

“Well, not necessarily. If you’d let me finish you stubborn wench.”

Emma scoffed, then zipped her lips.

“I can offer you forever.”

“Forever,” she repeated, then asked, “how can you offer me forever?”

“I can make you immortal.”

Emma’s breath hitched in her throat. It was one thing to be standing in front of a vampire, it was another ball game to consider becoming one. She didn’t know a damn thing about vampiring. She barely knew how to be human anymore.  

“What about…”

“That’s why I don’t want your answer tonight. I want you to think over the what abouts, and the what ifs. Right now you’ve been missing for just over a full day, everyone is worried about you. I need you to go back to Mary Margaret and David. Think on everything love.”

“No, I don’t want to leave you!” Emma’s voice was panicky as the thought of being separated overwhelmed her. “I just found you again, please, don’t leave.”

“I don’t have to, I can be with you at night. During the day of course, I can’t.”

“What really happens if you’re out in the sunlight?”

“Can’t say that I’ve tried, just out of fear of spontaneously combusting,” he chuckled despite the morbid thought.  “According to my maker, we don’t just explode, or melt at first exposure to the sun. It would take a few minutes, and if we were completely clothed and covered, maybe even a little longer. One of the benefits of living out here in Forest City is most of the year it offers a good enough cover of foliage during the daytime. That is one of the things you’d have to consider, Swan. You’d never be able to bask in sunlight, no more beach days.”

Emma stepped back toward him, and she saw the way his face contorted with pleasure and pain. “Killian, I don’t care about any of that,” she wrapped her arms around his neck and carded a hand through his hair, then continued, “I care about you.”

“And I you,” Killian whispered resting his forehead against hers.

“Can I… can I kiss you?”

“Emma,” he groaned. “I-”

Before he could say another word Emma pressed her lips to his. Innocently, only a chaste thing, followed by small pecks to his lips. “Just as soft as I remember.” She pulled her head back and licked her lips as if savoring his taste. “God, I’ve missed you.”

Killian’s eyes were transfixed on her, blue as always, but significantly paler than they’d been before. “Love, I think you should go now.”

“I thought you said we could be together at night?”

“I thought I was strong enough to be around you, Emma. But right now I’m walking a thin line between man and monster, and I’m asking you to let me take you home.”

“What do you need? You can drink in front of me, from me if you want.”

“I’m having a hard time with how close you are, how intoxicating you smell, how divine I know you’ll taste.” He broke from their embrace and scrubbed his hands over his face. “Christ, this is not how I pictured it.”

Emma smiled at the chagrin in his voice, he was embarrassed. “There’s a perk of being a vampire, you don’t blush like you used to. Although, I always found it cute.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying my turmoil.”

Flipping her hair away from her neck she sauntered toward Killian. “There’d be no turmoil if you’d just drink. I promise, it’s okay with me, I… I want you to… taste me.”

Killian growled as he pinned her with a hard stare, his jaw clenched and released as he weighed her words. “You always were a damn stubborn woman.”  

Emma’s eyes dilated as he swooped down on her and pulled her against his body.  She welcomed his mouth to hers as he kissed her, not chastely like a moment ago. The feel of his tongue against hers for the first time in a year was enough to bring tears back to her eyes. “Yes, babe, take what you need.” She heard a click and froze when she felt the sharp protrusion against her lip.

“Sorry love, did I cut you?”

Emma giggled at his worry. “I’d think you would know just as quickly as me, given your new tastes.”

“Fair point, but did I hurt you?”

“No, Killian. Stop worrying.” Emma rolled her eyes at him, he was vampire and still more chivalrous than all the men she’d ever known.

“I missed that eye roll, believe it or not.”

Emma rolled her eyes again just for his benefit. Palming his cheeks, she rubbed a thumb over one of his fangs. Her eyes swirled with wonder as she felt the long, sharp, porcelain weapon, and the broken groan that escaped Killian did not go unnoticed. Shivering, she contemplated why she was turned on in this moment. Should she be afraid? Appalled? She was anything but as she gazed at Killian and his fangy smile. “You’re so goddamn gorgeous. Come here.”

Emma led him to the large plush recliner in the corner of the room. Pushing him into the seat, she followed him down sitting in his lap, then resumed kissing him. She explored his mouth with her tongue, including running it from top to tip of each fang. She relished the pained whimpers that Killian emitted. Breaking the kiss, Emma tilted her head to the side and guided his lips to her neck. “Drink.”

Killian kissed her gently, one hand on the back of her neck massaging, and the other around her waist. He nipped and sucked at her jawline then toward her ear, before settling at her jugular vein. He inhaled deeply, and just about purred as he exhaled his shaky breath. “Are you-”

“Do not fucking ask me if I am sure one more time, Killian Jones. Yes, I’m sure,” she cut him off. She was ready for it, impatient even.

Her words were all the invitation Killian needed.

Emma called out his name at the shock of the intrusion, it wasn’t painful, it was… it was magical. She felt a thrumming run the length of her body, she felt lit up from head to toe, like she was vibrating.

When he finally pulled deeply from her vein she didn’t recognize the high pitched moan that escaped her lips. She’d never been into porn star noise making, but goddamn, it felt so good, she felt alive, rejuvenated even though she was the one giving. She felt it everywhere, including there; gingerly maneuvering so that she could straddle his lap, Emma immediately felt that he was as turned on as she was.

“Fuck,” he growled against her neck. “Forgive me, love.”

Before Emma could register what there possibly was to forgive, she had the sensation of falling, flying, and floating all at once. Her brain was foggy, body weightless, and her heart hammered in her chest. “Killian?”

“I promise love, I will come for you tomorrow night.”

“Killian, wait! Don’t leave me.” Emma’s eyes welled with tears as she realized she was in her bedroom, sitting on top of the bed she hadn’t slept in since he’d... “No,” she cried into the silence of her room. It had been so real. She stood up off the bed, shivering at how it seemed even emptier than it had for the last year, and trudged to the couch, too distraught to even grab the bottle of rum before curling up under her blanket and crying until she fell asleep.

Tagging @onceuponaprincessworld @teamhook @artistic-writer @winterbaby89 @courtorderedcake @jarienn972 @therooksshiningknight @ultraluckycatnd @cssns 

#cs ff #cssns #cs fanfic #cs au #captain swan

[yourkeeperoftherunners]

Novice [4]

Plot: AU Your neighbor summoned a demon for a good time, except he somehow overshot things and landed in your apartment. (Despite the lack of a pentagram.) He keeps showing up and oddly, he makes it a point to stop by after he’s done with her.

Rating: PG-13 (Language, implied sex, incubus mythology, controlling partners)

Characters: Incubus!Jungkook x Older Female Reader, Riley OC, plus mention of other members.

Notes: I am not an expert on demonology. This was based off a comical dream I had about someone accidentally ending up in my apartment when in reality they were looking for someone else. (The figure in the dream wasn’t a demon per se but a rookie individual that wasn’t human who appeared in places without using the front door.) Eventually there will be a take on this plot with RM as the incubus – it will be a different universe from this one. *If anyone controls you without your consent, get out as soon as possible.

Please no reposting anywhere!

[3] | [5]

It had been a few weeks since your first encounter with the rookie incubus and he seemed to make it a habit to stop by after seeing Riley. By now you made sure you stocked bananas, milk, and vanilla for his smoothie that he came to love so much, often letting him talk or vent about his life. Occasionally you chimed in with your own questions, curious to know a little more about the guy and his kind.

So far you learned that his kind were supposed to ask for permission, rather than taking from humans. Mainly it heightened the experience and was more fulfilling than taking from someone who was unwilling. Some of them weren’t all about a good or easy lay – he shared that a few of his elders were a bit soft for a real connection with love and respect for each other. Even though he had other incubi to talk to, he admitted he didn’t share too much about the exchanges with Riley, as he was eager to prove that he could handle himself.

“I love them noona, but sometimes they treat me like a child,” he whined. “They got worried when I was summoned for the first time and almost told me I shouldn’t go – someone more experienced should. I think...I think the first time I was a little overzealous and didn’t focus, which is why I landed in your apartment versus hers. But that was the first time and now I’ve got it!”

You wiped sweat off your brow as you reached your floor, sighing deeply. You spent your morning biking around the neighborhood, trying to get your daily exercise in.

You barely made it a few steps from the staircase when Riley came out of her apartment, brushing past you without a care.

Good morning to you too, you little ingrate, you thought, trying to hide your irritation.

You rolled your eyes as you walked to your door and unlocked it. You pushed the door open and paused when you saw a young man seated in the normal chair Jungkook occupied. You frowned as you approached the figure, taking note of his see-through shirt, tight black jeans, and boots – different from what the incubus wore. As you moved around the counter to look at his face, you did a double take and realized that the young man sporting light brown hair, instead of the familiar raspberry shade, was Jungkook.

“Good morning noona,” he said as he met your eyes.

You yanked the other earbud out and put your phone on the counter. You didn’t say anything, staring at the new hair color and the clothes.

“Good morning...or am I in some weird parallel universe where your hair is normal?” you asked as you gestured to his hair.

Jungkook touched the locks and shot you a weak smile. “You don’t like it?”

You shook your head and leaned against the counter. “It’s not a bad color on you, but it’s different. Why the change all of a sudden?”

The smile remained plastered on his face, looking borderline like a wince. He rubbed the back of his neck and replied, “Riley-noona told me she hated my hair and my clothes, so I changed everything,” he confessed. “I borrowed stuff from Jimin-hyung, cause he dresses sexy and it works.”

“It works for him but not you,” you said as you straightened up. “Are you even happy with the changes?”

Jungkook didn’t answer and you watched as he stared around your kitchen, avoiding your gaze. You opened your mouth, then closed it before going to pull the ingredients for his smoothie.

“It was a few nights ago,” Jungkook confessed. “She mentioned the color was an eyesore and that I dressed like a slob.”

“Who gives a fuck what she thinks – it’s your hair and your body!” you groused as you began making his smoothie.

Jungkook watched with concern as you chopped up the banana a bit savagely and dumped the pieces in. He rose from his seat and took the milk carton from you, insisting he had it.

You relented and watched as he poured the right amount into the blender. He put the carton back in the fridge, opening the freezer door overhead and scooping up ice cubes in his hands to put into the blender. You measured out the vanilla and added it at the end.

“Do you want food too?” you asked before turning on the blender. “It’s gonna take me some time to cook, but I’ll make you something.”

Jungkook thought about it for a minute before shyly asking for your pasta you cooked the first time he met you.

“Of course.”

“She’s still not feeding you, is she?” you asked as you put a huge bowl of pasta in front of him.

He shook his head and mumbled that it wasn’t uncommon for humans to pass out after sleeping with a demon. “I mean, she’s not weak per se, but she doesn’t have the stamina,” he noted. “Plus she didn’t listen when I warned her that repeat visits back-to-back can harm a human, maybe even kill them.”

He dug into the pasta and hummed, closing his eyes as he chewed. He swallowed before thanking you, flashing you his bunny smile. “Thanks noona, I really appreciate it. I know you’re probably tired of seeing me, but it’s nice to have a friend.”

You paused from cleaning the pot, grateful he couldn’t see your face. Friend. It sounded funny to be called a demon’s friend. Initially you found the incubus an oddball and it was weird being the middle person between him and Riley. It was sort of cute to have him enjoying whatever you put in front of him like he was your kid brother, but you were hard pressed to figure out what to call this little arrangement.

“Eat as much as you want kid,” you said.

He looked up from his bowl and whined, “Noona! You promised to not call me ‘kid’ anymore, remember?”

You held your hands up and shrugged. “I’m old! I forget – it’s kind of a habit!”

Jungkook pouted, putting his fork down to take a sip of his smoothie. He sighed in content before wiping his mouth with a napkin.

“Noona, what do you do when you um...”

You raised a brow at his question and he reddened slightly. You put the pot away and crossed your arms over your chest.

“That’s a bit personal Kook,” you said. “If you’re wondering if I’m taken, I’m not. But I’m not looking for anyone at the moment.”

He tilted his head and a playful grin crossed his lips. “But say if noona ever wanted help, I would be more than happy to help you. You’ve done a lot for me and I haven’t been able to return the favor.”

You threw the dish towel at him and he yelped as it covered his face. You snorted as he fumbled to remove it and you replied that it wasn’t going to happen.

“Ah noona!”

“I’m too old for you kiddo,” you shot back with a smile.

“No you’re not!” he protested. He paused when he heard his phone go off and he huffed when he saw who it was. He looked like he was going to decline it, but he relented and answered.

You busied yourself with putting away the blender and the colander as he spoke in another language to the person on the other end. The call lasted a few minutes before he hung up and pushed the bowl away.

“I’m sorry noona but I need to go back,” he sighed. “Looks like one of the hyungs is asking for me.”

You picked up his bowl and nodded, telling him to take care as he headed toward the door. Before he could leave, you called out to him.

“Hey, if seeing Riley makes you uncomfortable, I’d stop seeing her altogether,” you spoke up. “I mean, it’s not fair to you that she made you go through those changes and she never does anything nice for you. You shouldn’t settle.”

He looked back at you and flashed you a smile. But something in his eyes looked off. He mumbled a thank you before leaving, closing the door quietly behind him.

“She wasn’t horrible, but my brother was the worst! If I tried to tell a joke to diffuse the tension, he’d throw daggers my way!” Jin moaned as he rumpled his hair. “Forget my dad asking about her grades – my brother nearly bit his head off! Oh please count me out for the wedding!”

“They’re engaged?”

“No, but I know it will come to that! You just wait and see,” Jin huffed.

You nodded, staring at your full glass of water. You agreed to catch up with your friend after so long and tonight you couldn’t help but worry about the incubus after seeing him this morning. Sure he was smiling and trying to act like it was okay, but his eyes told you another story.

You rose from your seat and apologized to Jin, excusing yourself. “I need to get back – got to check on someone.”

“Are you seeing someone? Is it someone I’ve vetted?” Jin asked.

“No Jin, it’s...a friend,” you sighed. “He’s like a brother and I’m a little worried about him and some stupid girl.”

Riley’s apartment was eerily silent when you walked by, which you took as either a sign that she was conked out or maybe Jungkook listened to you and stayed away.

Your heart pounded as you unlocked the door with shaky hands. Was he waiting inside for his snack? Did he not come at all?

The door opened and you noticed a young man clad in a similar outfit that Jungkook sported this morning sitting in his seat. The hair color was different this time and you frowned as you studied the body shape.

As the door closed behind you, the figure turned in his seat, fingers grazing his chin.

“I never dreamed I’d be saying this to a human, but I need your help.”

#BTS Jungkook #BTS Jungkook AU #BTS incubus AU #incubus AU #tw: implied sex #tw: controlling partners #tw: incubus #yourkeeperoftherunners original #number 2543

[saltpepperbeard]

**REWRITE** These Words are a Lie ~A Joshifer Fanfiction~ Chapter Two

A/N: Holy moly does it feel weird to write that title again. But hello everyone! This may seem a bit odd, but trust me, this has been a long time coming. I was super hyped when I published chapter two back in 2015. Over the years however, the chapter has gotten uglier and uglier to me, the characterization/motivation just BEGGING to be fixed. And of course very recently, my writing motivation has returned home from war lol. So naturally, I FINALLY decided to rewrite this chapter as a fun little exercise!

I have to say that I’m much happier with how it turned out. It ended up longer than the original of course; no surprise there lol. But I’m really glad I did this, and I had so much fun diving back into the TWAAL universe again! (And yes the banner got a glow up too lol)

Disclaimer: This chapter contains strong language and explicit sexual content.

The original/old chapter two can be found here [x]

All chapters can be found here [x]

And without further adooooo....

After a plethora of love-soaked reveries and heated dreams, I awake with a start. It takes me a moment to come to terms with where I am, come to terms with reality. The second I do, I’m met with a lifting relief and a crushing sadness.

The clock on the night stand reads 3 AM, and I’m still in my Berlin hotel room, Josh asleep in bed beside me. I’m so happy he’s here. His presence alone takes a giant weight off my shoulders. His presence alone hoists me away from all the bullshit I’ve dealt with for the past few weeks. It reminds me that life is hopefully headed in a simpler, happier direction, one where my ex isn’t constricting me.

Losing Nick however, and having Josh to fill the holes, unfortunately has problems of its own. Looking at him as my best friend, Josh does wonders with making me feel better. He always knows how to make me smile, always knows what to say, and always makes me feel like I’m home. I suppose he’s a little too good at making me feel better, because even to this day, he still surpasses the “best friend” title in my heart.

After everything we’ve been through, after all the twists and turns our lives have taken, I still long for him like nothing else.

The thought is amazing, but so incredibly frustrating.

I’m away from Nick, sure. But I wish I could undo even more. I wish I could go back to our first break up and never look back from then on. I wish I could go back to Hawaii and fully commit to who I’ve deeply loved after all this time.

But I can’t. The damage has been done. And now I’m stuck here in limbo.

A long sigh slips from my nose as I eye Josh in the darkness. Even though he’s turned away from me, he looks absolutely conked out, his body sagging heavily into the mattress. My expression shifts to a sad ghost of a smile as I continue to stare, the dreams picking back up even in my wakeful state.

What would it be like if Josh was lying in bed beside me not as my friend, but as my partner...

What would it be like if Josh and I had spent the night peppering each other with kisses instead of platonic hugs...

What would it be like if Josh and I had fallen deep into each other and fucked the night away...

I sit up a bit more with alarm, almost feeling ashamed of myself for having such a thought cross my brain.

God, I’m such a mess. My emotions and composure are really such a mess.

Any sane woman wouldn’t jump from guy to guy like this. Although, perhaps I never fully “jumped” from the start. Nick and I definitely weren’t in love weeks ago, months ago. Anything we did wasn’t even remotely genuine. What I’m thinking about Josh however...

I bite my lip and decide that a bit of fresh air might do me good. I definitely need to clear my head.

As carefully and quietly as I can manage, I roll out of bed and head out onto the balcony. The cool night air is instantly refreshing, and I greedily inhale deep lungfuls as I attempt to calm myself down. I focus on anything and everything that can distract me from thinking about the man still asleep in my bed. The Berlin traffic down below, the gentle whisper of a breeze in my ears, the sound of the sliding door opening behind me...

A bolt goes up my spine, followed by a slight sense of dread. Guess distracting myself isn’t in the cards for tonight.

Another sigh huffs from my nose, and I pivot to see a very sleepy Josh, still rubbing the exhaustion out of his eyes as he steps on to the balcony with me.

“Hey...” he murmurs, his voice thick and raspy.

“Hey...” I whisper back.

“What are you doing up?” he asks, moving to stand by my side.

I chew my lip nervously, avoiding both his gaze and question as I turn to look over the city below.

“Just couldn’t...sleep I guess.”

Josh seems to consider this, a slight silence following my answer, before he continues.

“A lot on your mind still?”

“You have no idea...”

Another pause. And consequently, without either of us saying anything, my thoughts begin to whirl.

God, I wish I could tell him. I wish I could tell him everything, tell him the truth. I wish I could be perfectly open and honest with my feelings, and have everything work out just the way I want it to.

But I’m stuck. I’m trapped. And there’s no telling when things will come out.

I grasp the edge of the balcony, the metal cool against my fingers. Just when I’m about to truly spiral, a gentle hand against my back shifts things, if only for a moment. Josh rubbing soft circles silently comforts me, but then sends my thoughts reeling once more.

He’s such a great friend.

He’s such an amazing person.

He’s an absolutely perfect man.

God, I love him so much.

My grip turns so hard that my knuckles begin to white out, tears threatening to build in my eyes. I must tense up as well, because the hand against my back slows to a halt.

“You okay?”

I nod, but the moisture I was fighting to keep away ends up pooling in my vision.

“Jen...” Josh murmurs, his tone a bit more solemn.

Just like earlier, just like when he came into my room, he breaches the barrier of my composure. Because when I turn to look at him and open my mouth, all that comes out is a sob, followed by streams of tears.

This time though, he doesn’t say anything. His face falls, his mouth setting into a tight line, before he simply holds his arms out for me to fill. I do so without question.

He holds me tightly as I cry for everything I’ve lost, everything that could have been. Though I’m so incredibly fortunate to have him in my life, call me selfish, but I want more. I want all that he is.

“I hate seeing you like this,” he murmurs, breaking me out of my thoughts, “Everything will be alright, Jen...It’ll get better...”

I could cringe at those words, giving a few more sobs into his shoulder.

“I just want everything to be...simple for once, you know? I want everything to just...fall into place...”

He lets out a sigh against me, nuzzling his head against mine. He allows me more time to cry, more time to get my more extreme emotions out, before I can practically feel his demeanor change. He perks up a bit, his entire form running warm and sunny against my stormy attitude. When he leans back a bit, I cannot help but follow, pulling away a tad to catch his eye.

“Well,” he starts, and I cannot help but notice the twinkle in his gaze, “I don’t know if I can mess with how your life unfolds. Manipulating time and space wasn’t included in acting training.”

Despite my tears, I let out a snort, one that’s enough to bring out the crooked grin I’ve fallen in love with over the years.

“But I can however, at least try and make things a bit better tonight?”

He then reaches up with a hand to brush a few of my tears away, his thumb gently swiping across my cheek. It’s enough to bring my smile back, which only intensifies his.

“So since we’re already up, how about weeee order some food and drinks through room service, put on a shitty movie, and...stay up until things fall more into place?”

I laugh despite myself, despite everything still circulating around through my head.

“You’re an idiot, Joshy...It’s three in the morning...”

“I didn’t hear an answer,” he chuckles.

I give a shaky inhale, contemplating if it’s wise to interact with him more in such a state. But who knows; it might be beneficial to spend the night with him as a friend, and break myself out of the thirsting cycle I’ve got going on.

Anything’s better than lying awake trapped in my thoughts anyway.

So pushing my hesitance aside, I sniffle and return his smile.

“Yeah...Let’s do that.”

xXx

We go back into the room, and it isn’t long before we’re surrounded by various forms of alcohol, munchies, and movies. I’m quick to turn to drinks to numb myself, to white out my mind, getting buzzed faster than I planned to. While he initially gives me shit for using alcohol to cope, teasingly calling me Haymitch and what not, it doesn’t take Josh long to follow.

We laugh and talk, eat and drink, attempting to pay attention to the chosen movies as much as possible but barely doing so. The entertainment is more between us, a stream of drunken jokes and jabs pouring out of us.

It’s just what the doctor ordered, spending time with him like this. It’s just the two of us acting like idiots in their twenties. It puts me in my place.

Three turns to four, and four turns into five. Though the booze continues to run rampant in our systems, we begin to wind down a bit, flopping against the bed and trying to focus more on the television.

And just like usual, the whole friendship element begins to chip away, something far stronger attempting to win me over. Just when I happen to be at my utmost weakest as well.

In my state of growing mental and physical exhaustion, I find myself laying against Josh, my arm thrown messily across his chest and my head atop his shoulder. He holds me in a loose embrace, the two of us quieting down as we try our best to watch whatever’s on the TV.

“I needed this...” I murmur after a bit of a pause.

“I know you did. How are you feeling?”

“Reaaaaaallly good,” I reply, my voice clearly coated with liquor.

Josh snorts, before laughing a bit at my intoxicated state.

“Glad to hear it. Sorry if you wake up with a headache tomorrow, though,” he chuckles.

“Whatever. I was probably going to have one anyway.”

He chuckles a bit again, before snuggling closer and starting to rub my back once more. I let out a long breath and relax even further against him, getting lost in his touch and comfort.

A bit too lost I suppose, because before I can even process what I’m doing, I press a soft kiss to his chest, my lips brushing against his skin. It’s a silent thanks for everything. It’s a hint of my longing towards him. It’s definitely not how two friends should be acting.

My logic eventually catches back up, and a bolt of fear runs down my spine. God dammit, I’m slipping. I’m slipping something terrible. I can feel the alcohol washing away any and all self-control I may have. I can’t fuck things up for us. Not again. No matter how much I may want to, he’s my friend. He’s...

My argumentative thoughts are cut short by Josh’s hand stilling on my back. I hold my breath, wincing as I prepare for him to question my motives. Oddly enough, he does the exact opposite of what I expect; he leans down and presses a gentle kiss against my temple.

God, I love it. It sets me completely alight, warmth shooting from where his lips touched my skin to every nook and cranny of my body.

Josh and I have always been a bit more physically affectionate with each other. Platonic kisses have never really been out of the question. But with my current circumstances, in my current state of mind, a simple kiss takes me to a whole different state of being.

It rekindles my romantic thoughts. It makes me want to kiss him until the sun comes up, until the liquor runs dry. It makes me want to get locked in his embrace and never come out. It makes me want to smother him with all the pent up love I’ve been accumulating over the past few months, past few years.

And of course with love, stronger, more salacious thoughts are quick to follow...

My breath catches, soft shivers beginning to course through me. It’s like I physically have to hold myself back from falling victim and completely ravishing him. I have to aggressively restrain my impulsive side, my eager side, and hold on desperately to my more logical, calm thoughts.

But as the warmth spreads, it gets harder, and harder, and harder, and harder.

I have to come up for air, pushing myself up off of Josh and sitting beside him instead. I avoid his gaze for a moment, attempting to reign myself back in with deep, collected breaths. I’m almost about to leap off the bed and take some time to myself, to ensure I don’t do anything stupid.

When I chance a glance at Josh however, when blue looks into warm, wonderful hazel, I lose it. I lose everything.

His stare appears to be soft, loving, curious. And if I didn’t know any better, I’d almost say his pupils are quite enlarged, like he’s gazing upon me with the same desires...

I shut my eyes, trying so hard to hang on to whatever composure I have left. But I can still see him behind shut eyelids, and so I feel the last bit of willpower crack into pieces, a subsequent twitch rolling through me.

My breaths turn shaky, and I open my eyes so I can reach forward and cup Josh’s jaw, desperately begging him to help set me straight.

But he doesn’t. I don’t see any hint of confusion, disgust, or any other negative emotions really. He just continues to look at me with those enticing, handsome eyes of his.

“Fuck...”

My whisper comes out slightly pained, slightly ashamed. That doesn’t stop me from leaning forward though, everything directing me to get what I want.

“Fuck, Josh...” I whimper, almost in a sort of messed up apology before I pounce.

And pounce I do.

It’s like time skips forward; maybe we do have the ability to manipulate it after all. Because in one second, I’m still hesitating, and in the next, I’m crushing my lips to the mouth of the man I truly desire.

It’s heaven. It’s everything. I haven’t kissed him this way in so long. All of our more recent kisses have been for the cameras. I haven’t had him all to myself like this in what seems like an eternity.

It’s almost like my lips were made for his, gliding and sliding perfectly through them. His lips and stubble provide a wonderful mixture of velvety soft and scratchy gruffness that I grow all the more lightheaded, all the more eager to drink him in.

As I greedily kiss him however, as I suck and smack and coax, he doesn’t appear to be doing the same. And when I realize my actions aren’t being reciprocated, I snap a bit more to my senses, a slew of worry flowing through me.

He doesn’t want it. I was just convincing myself otherwise. I threw myself onto him without him feeling the same way. The alcohol painted lies and fed me with false hope.

I almost start to panic, and though it pains me to do so, I start to lean away to break our beautiful connection. Josh has always been one for surprises though; instead of letting me go, he finally comes to and chases after my mouth.

I could almost cry from his silent permission, the kiss entirely mutual now. And so I eagerly hop right back in, gaping against him and hoping he follows my lead. He does, joining me in the lascivious, messy, amazing kiss.

Our lips meet and clash in a continuous stream, like we’re just as desperate to get that forbidden taste from each other. When his hands reach up to frame my face, tugging me even closer to him, I cannot help myself; I begin to moan and whimper through each advance.

It was stupid to think that I would be satisfied by just a good make out session alone. Because sure enough, the deeper and deeper we kiss, the hungrier and hungrier I get. I quickly start to crave more, quickly start to want to connect with Josh in every way, shape, and form.

God, if I could fully have him tonight...

Caught up in the moment, in my emotions, in my intoxication, I need him. I need a taste of what could have been. I want to experience this with him before it’s all ripped away again; the universe never seems to bring us properly together.

So naturally, stubbornly, I want to take advantage of what’s happening here and now. I want to go through with what we’re both feeling.

Though every part of me is already on fire, my pelvis completely goes ablaze, raging the strongest of all. It practically takes hold of the rest of my body, leading me to climb onto Josh’s lap, straddling him as our kiss continues. He groans as I do so, but suddenly, he begins to slow down, not returning my advances as much.

“Josh...” I whimper against his mouth, breaking our seal to pepper his jawline with kisses and nips.

Again, he vocalizes, letting out a heavy sigh. But he doesn’t chase after me like I thought. He seems to still even more.

“Josh, I want you...” I whisper into his skin, solidifying my desires.

Another heavy sigh puffs from his lungs, and his hands creep up to my shoulders, pushing me slightly.

“I...I can’t...” he heaves.

My heart flips within my chest, and I quickly go back to kissing him, attempting to rekindle his spark.

“Shhh, you can...” I murmur into him.

“Jen...”

Now he chooses to be persistent. Now he chooses to stop us. He gives my shoulders a harder push, guiding me off his lap and onto the bed again. When I look into his eyes, I see the same pain, the same look of attempted self control, that I was showcasing earlier.

“No...We have to stop.”

I open my mouth to argue back, before floundering and biting my lip instead.

“It’s not a good time right now,” he continues, panting softly.

“Josh...” I start, stubbornly trying to keep things going, despite being well aware of the consequences, “There’d be no repercussions, no problems. And definitely no regrets from my end.”

“I’ve heard that before...”

My heart sinks into my stomach, his words transporting me back to years prior. When we were crazy for one another. When things were just as complicated. When we fell victim to such deep intimacy that we came out hurt on the other end.

A slight glaze of tears well up in my eyes. I just want him without problems. I want him freely. I want him without having to worry about a care in the world.

“Josh...Please, I...”

“Jen,” he starts again, cutting me off, “You’re not in a good head space right now. You need some time to process everything. I think we both do. So how about we just...take it down a few notches?”

I let out a shivering sigh, looking down and preparing to accept defeat. It’s at that moment though, that I notice a very telltale sign of arousal. There’s an unmistakable, definitely difficult to ignore bulge in Josh’s pants, the fabric practically tenting with his erection. I bite my lip, feeling myself clench down below. Josh must follow my gaze and read my thoughts, because I hear him inhale so sharply that it could cut right through the sexual tension.

Slowly, my eyes travel back up to meet his, the air growing hotter and hotter between us. We share a simmering stare, our eyes both swirling with dark lust. But Josh somehow manages to cut it off, closing his eyes and swallowing hard.

“No...” he groans, slightly shaking his head, “No...”

And proving that he’s the stronger-willed individual, he pushes himself off the bed, grasping the back of his neck as he begins to walk away.

“I just...Give me some time alone, okay?”

With that, he departs towards the balcony, leaving me alone, frustrated, and increasingly ashamed of myself.

“I’m...I’m sorry,” I attempt to say to him, but my voice comes out in a barely audible whisper.

I feel crushed. I feel sad all over again. It’s like a painful reminder that Josh and I will never be, were never meant to be together.

Before I can feel too sorry for myself and break down completely, I decide to go into the bathroom and shower. I feel like I need to wash all of this, wash all of my emotion, completely away. And I’m sure the warm water will feel soothing in Josh’s cold absence.

I walk into the bathroom and shut the door, not bothering to lock it behind me. I’m sure Josh will leave once he collects himself anyway. I strip away all my clothing, and pause for a moment to grasp the counter, eyeing myself down in the mirror.

My appearance matches what I’m feeling inside; disheveled, chaotic, and upset. I blow out a long breath and hang my head, cursing at how everything currently is. But I can’t control anything. I can’t do anything about it. So after a moment, I simply prepare myself to step into the shower. A distant call of my name freezes me solid.

“Jen?”

I can’t bring myself to answer him. I fear what follows will be something along the lines of “I’m leaving for the night.” And I can’t have that. I don’t want him to go. I refuse to believe I’ve messed up things further. I can’t.

My name leaving his lips draws closer, and closer. Even when he’s right outside the door, I bite my lip, unable to find the strength to reply. But to my surprise, he barges into the bathroom without caution, practically throwing himself into the room.

“J-...Oh, fuck...”

I can practically feel his stare, his eyes leaving small fires as he flits them over my bare form. Without the slightest bit of shame or embarrassment, I turn to face him, perhaps even flaunting my body a tad. And I find a very frustrated, very handsome, very hard Josh in the doorway.

I watch him curiously, and admittedly delight, as the last bits of his composure come crashing down. He practically falls against the wall, nostrils flaring, eyes squeezing, biting the back of his hand as he fights to the end. I can hear him groaning and letting out a slew of expletives, my heart speeding up as I watch. I reach out with my mind and figuratively wrap my flames around him, enticing him to come back on the same plane of passion.

“You...You drive me insane, you know that?” he grumbles against his skin.

“I know.”

He lets out a series of sharp breaths, before he finally makes eye contact again; but not without giving my nakedness another sweep.

“Dammit,” he whispers, “...No repercussions?”

My heart flips within me, practically skipping beats at his question. We’re so close to having each other. So so close.

“No repercussions,” I breathe, “I promise.”

“This is stupid...”

“Probably.”

He gives me one last look, and then I visibly see the final walls come down, his body slacking as he gives in to his wants a well.

“Fuck it; c’mere, Jen...”

He doesn’t have to tell me twice.

I skate across the tile, my feet barely touching the floor as I rush to him. And in seconds, I’m eagerly pressing my body into his, locking us into another kiss. He moans and I capture it, before sending the noise back, mewling my utmost need. Having him like this, kissing him so deeply, feeling his erection pressing into me...

I instantly go lightheaded with lust, my body and mind a bursting firework of emotion and feeling.

He must want this as much as I do, because without really giving us time to kiss, he’s leading me backwards and out of the bathroom. I eagerly chase after him, continuing to claim his mouth as we go along, excitement and anticipation rushing through my veins.

We quickly weave back into the bedroom, and the moment we reach the bed, he pivots me so I’m poised against the edge, sitting against it. I’m immediately on the same page as him, and spread my legs wide open with a sigh, welcoming him to be as close as humanly possible. The air quickly perfumes with my scent, and I watch as his eyes roll, taking every bit of me in.

He takes my invitation and steps up between my legs, fiddling with his drawstring pants. In his desperation, our desperation, he pushes both his pants and boxers down just enough to allow his length to spring out.

I take a moment to appreciate him, sighing and smiling at how large he is, at how ready he is for me.

He returns the expression, grinning crookedly, dirtily. I watch with interest and admiration as he takes himself in a hand, pumping a few times with subsequent grunts from his throat. I take my bottom lip into my mouth, before brazenly taking him as well, wrapping my fingers around his length. He lets out a hissing noise through his teeth, which shifts into a groan as I tug him forwards, leading him to my entrance.

I rub his head through my damp, swollen folds, shutting my eyes and savoring the feeling. We both let out moans and gasps, before Josh takes over, giving a small thrust of his hips and nestling the tip of his erection into my depths.

“You want this?” he growls, “You really want-”

“Don’t talk; just fuck me,” I breathe, wrapping a hand around his neck and pressing him to get on with it.

A visible shudder rolls down his form, his eyes rolling slightly once more. When he doesn’t immediately take me, I give the situation more fuel by adding, “...Hard.”

And with that, he brazenly latches his mouth to my neck, and sheathes himself deep inside me with a strong, fluid thrust.

Instantly, I see stars. Just from his entrance alone, I already want to scream in pleasure, my body completely at his mercy. It is absolutely astounding, the difference it makes when I’m experiencing this with a man I truly adore. After years of waiting, years of wanting, it feels like nothing else I’ve experienced before.

Josh goes through with my request. He doesn’t give me time to process things. Right after his initial thrust, he takes me carnally, driving his pelvis into mine again and again. We both sing out our pleasures, utterly delirious with the feelings we’re granting each other. He stretches and pounds me perfectly, and I swallow him up and clench around him with equal precision.

It feels right. It feels so right. It’s like each thrust erases reality away, hoisting me to a place where it’s just Josh and I. It’s like each movement deep within is Josh taking me back, claiming me as his once more. It’s like each hard shove of his length slowly turns the tables back to Hawaii, erasing every trace of my ex and going back to a time where Josh was my only focus.

It’s extraordinary. It’s everything I’ve wanted for the longest time. I could live in it forever.

“Mmmm fuck,” Josh’s pleasured grunt sounds, breaking me out of my trance, “God, Jen...”

“Don’t stop...” I croon back in return, holding on to his neck and riding the force of his movements, “Oh God, Josh...Please don’t stop...”

He certainly doesn’t. If anything, he intensifies his thrusts even more, driving into me so hard that I’m forced to fall back against the mattress. He reaches down to hoist my legs up, grasping my hips to give himself more leverage as he continues his wonderful assault.

I’m writhing and screaming and tossing my head, completely lost in the pleasure he’s giving me. It must be equally as good for him, because he’s far more vocal than I remember, grunting and moaning and yelling my name.

I can feel my release approaching quickly, and for the first time, I don’t want it to hit. I want to prolong this moment as long as I can. I want to have him this close, inside and out, for the rest of my days. But unfortunately, our bodies dominate our minds, racing to orgasm even if we don’t want them to.

When I feel myself beginning to tense, I almost try to fight against it. When I feel Josh’s fingers atop my clit, coaxing me to race ahead of him, I almost want to slap his hand away. But damn if it doesn’t feel divine, his body working me straight to my glorious finish.

I’m overrun with pleasure so intense that I’m surprised my keens don’t break the lights. My entire body explodes with sparks and fire, shooting up from where Josh is touching me to every ounce of my being. My vision whites out, and for a moment, I really do feel like I’ve entered heaven.

But Josh is quick to ground me, just as he always does. I come back just in time to hear his final, cracking yell, before he shoves deep inside me and lets out numerous spurts of his release.

I lay on the bed in a wondrous daze, clenching tightly and swallowing up every last bit of him, like I’m fighting to keep a piece of him forever.

Completely satisfied, completely satiated, and completely exhausted, my eyes droop as the room fades from existence, practically floating on cloud nine. I don’t have the strength to stop Josh from slipping out of me, but he’s quick to fill the gap by flopping down on the bed beside me.

The two of us simply lay drunkenly together in post-coital bliss, the once chaotic room only filled with our quieting pants now.

I don’t think too hard about what we just did. I don’t take anything into consideration. I simply enjoy the moment, appreciating it for what it is.

When Josh crawls further up the bed to rest near the pillows, I lazily follow, nestling my bare, full body against him. He flops an arm atop me, and the moment I snuggle into his chest, it’s no surprise that a much needed slumber overtakes me, falling into a perfectly content rest filled with nothing but the man of my dreams.

xXx

Though I do indeed awake to a rather nasty headache the following, my body feels lighter than the pillows behind my head. I let out a long and content sigh, stretching my limbs and enjoying the warmth still radiating out to my extremities. What happened just hours before still feels like a dream to me, reality not fully sinking back in yet. Still halfway locked in my reveries, I reach out to caress the man beside me, hungering to continue and to never wake up from this.

But when my fingers dust across an empty, cold mattress, I do.

I snap awake, sitting bolt upright in bed. And when the sheets fall off my form, revealing my still-naked body, reality hits with an excruciating force.

Josh is gone.

Josh and I had sex last night.

Oh God.

Anxiety and dismay are both quick to set in. Though I vaguely remember us promising each other that there would be no repercussions, we were obviously too out of our heads to fully commit. Because we’re best friends. Two best friends who are still pretty much linked to other relationships. Two best friends who have been cut deeply by this same thing before.

Oh God.

I wanted it so bad. I wanted him so bad. And as messed up as I was last night, there was no stopping it. I hungered for that little taste of him like nothing else. But for what? Messing us up again? Messing him up?

Shame pours through my veins in droves, manifesting as tears that are quick to coat my vision.

“J-Josh...” I whimper out, praying that he’s in one of the other rooms, that he’ll reply to my call.

My suite is just as empty as my bed.

Moisture pours down my cheeks as I throw myself out of bed, slipping on a robe and searching around. My heart sinks further and further into my stomach the longer and longer I search, the hotel room feeling very much vacated. But as I pass by the window, I catch a glimpse that sends a sob of relief from my throat.

Slowly, cautiously, I open the sliding glass door and step out onto the balcony, next to a rather pensive-looking Josh. Though I’m so glad he didn’t leave, I can’t bear to look at him. I’m feeling increasingly guilty, all the memories and visions of last night pouring in one by one. It was mutual, yes, but I was the one who initiated it, the one who pushed it.

I can feel his eyes on me, his stare forcing more tears out of my own. He continues to look at me, and I know I have to say something. I know I have to apologize.

“We...We shouldn’t have done that...”

I hear his intake of breath, and still feel him staring, so I’m quick to continue, “I mean...I shouldn’t have done that...It was all my fault, Josh, I’m sorry...”

I wait for him to step in with his two cents. I wait for him to chip in with his eloquence and maturity. When I’m left with silence however, I cannot help but sob.

“Josh, I’m...sorry...I was way too worked up last night and....it just...got to me.”

More silence. I’m starting to think nothing I say will come even close to fixing the situation.

“Can...Can we just forget this ever happened?...Please?”

He lets out a long sigh, and finally speaks up, his voice hoarse and low.

“I think that’s easier said than done...”

My composure, as fragile as it’s been over the past couple of days, snaps right in half once more. My sobs pick up, audible hiccuping-noises sounding from my throat and visible shudders rolling down my body. Though my eyes are now shut from the force of my cries, I can practically feel Josh deflate beside me.

“Jen...”

I don’t look at him. I don’t move. A pair of gentle, warm hands on my shoulders however, coax me to do so, beckoning me into my favorite embrace. I’m still devastated, surely, but I feel immensely better that he’s hugging me. I wrap my arms tightly around his neck and bury my face into his collar, continuing my weeps and never wanting to let go. To my utmost relief, he holds me back just as firmly, his hands rubbing soft circles against my back.

“I...I didn’t want to...” I hiccup into him.

“Didn’t want to what?”

“I didn’t want to...fuck things up again...for us...I was so...fucking stupid...I’m sorry...”

“You’re...”

I hold my breath as he inhales deeply and lets it out with another long sigh.

“You’re not stupid,” he murmurs, “I acted out of impulse too. I mean, I think it was pretty obvious that I was caught up in the moment as well. So we’re both guilty in that respect.”

My heart flutters a tad at his words, a hint of comfort trickling back in. Anxiety is still in the lead however, making my arms wrap even tighter around him, locking him into my embrace.

“Please don’t leave me...” I moan.

I feel his breath catch, before he hugs me closer as well.

“I’m not going to leave you...”

A particularly sharp sob sounds from me, and I feel one of Josh’s hands venture up to cup the back of my head, cradling me and rubbing his fingers soothingly against my scalp.

“Jen, I’m not going to leave you,” he murmurs firmly, “I promise.”

His words flood me his warmth once more, and I feel my sobs letting up a tad. I snuggle closer into him, nestling my face against his skin.

“I mean,” he starts with huff of laughter through his nose, “What’s a drunken fuck between two friends?”

I cannot help but laugh at the absurdity of it all, shaking my head at the both of us.

“God, Josh...Do you know how ridiculous that sounds?”

“Yeah, but I guess we’ve never been ones for being normal,” he huffs again, before his voice takes a more serious tone, “And it’s not like we haven’t done this before.”

I let out another puff of mirth, but my heart sinks again as his last words do. I chew my lip for a moment, before leaning back in his arms, meeting his eyes for the first time this morning. When I’m met with the usual gentleness, the usual warmth swirling around his hazel depths, I gain the strength to continue.

“You’re more to me than just...a rebound, by the way...”

His eyes search through mine, blue and hazel silently communicating.

“I didn’t just jump on you to forget Nick...There was more to it than that...I just...”

The truth poises itself on my tongue. The need to admit my true feelings wells up dangerously in my chest. But as per usual, it all crashes, my body deflating as the truth blips away once again.

“I don’t know...”

“Regardless of why it happened, what’s done is done,” he says, still continuing to rub my back, “So how about we just...try and look past this?”

I can feel my heart crack a tad at the missed opportunity. Another chance to be with Josh, gone, obliterated. But inwardly I know he’s right. Inwardly, I know we have to, for the sake of our friendship at least.

“It’s going to be weird...”

“Maybe at first,” he agrees, before I see that teasing glimmer in his eye, “I mean after all, I’ve seen my ‘annoying sister’ naked. And we ended up doing it. Pretty hard to look past that.”

“Josh!” I gasp, rolling my eyes with a groan that eventually shifts into a few huffy rounds of laughter, “Oh God...Why’d you have to bring up the fucking annoying sister thing again...I hate that. And you just made things worse.”

“No I didn’t!” he chuckles, “We’re from Kentucky. Totally normal.”

“Jesus,” I laugh, “You’re awful.”

We both laugh together, chasing the anxiety within away. It comforts me immensely that we’re still able to banter as we do, even after such a life-changing incident.

When we quiet down, smiling and gazing into each other’s eyes again, I have to proclaim at least something.

“You mean a lot to me, Joshy...”

His stare softens, his smile turning solemn and gentle.

“You mean a lot to me, too. There was no way in hell I was going to throw you away over a slip up.”

My smile must fade a tad, because he’s quick to add, “A mutual slip up.”

Tears well up in my eyes again, but they’re happier, relieved. Even though yes, I am still worried about the future, worried about if this will end up impacting us in any way, it comforts me tremendously to know that Josh is still by my side.

“Thank you...” I whisper, throwing myself back into his arms.

“You’re welcome...”

He inhales as if he’s going to continue, but instead settles on hugging me back in return.

I don’t think much of it, simply glad that we’re okay, that nothing erupted from our impulsive act of passion. As I continue to embrace him under the light of the rising sun, bathing in warmth and contentedness, I can finally feel myself starting to relax.

I guess things will be okay after all.

#TWAAL #Joshifer fic #Joshifer fanfiction #Joshifer #Joshifer smut #NC-17 #Jennifer Lawrence #Josh Hutcherson #YEET LOL #Oh God wow I feel like I'm back in 2015 just starting this story again #Way back when I BARELY knew where it was going to take me #I just had like #CHAPTER FRIGGIN 19 PLANNED OUT OF COURSE LOL #But everything else hooo boy #I've missed ya Peanut

[accio-ambition]

Hello hello hello! Welcome to a new week of @captainswanbigbang chapters and stories. You might notice that the rating on this story has risen. After some guidance from the CSBB mods, I aired on the side of caution. So maybe this gives you a little bit of incentive to see exactly why it's gone up. But it won't happen for a little while still. You know, after Killian shows up. That might count as a spoiler, but, c’mon, you knew it ws coming, didn’t you? Once more, a huge massive thank you to @sotheylived for betaing this mess of words and @shipsxahoy and @queen-icicle-fandom for not only reading through the whole thing but making great art to it. I'm still amazed.

Summary: Bouncing around with her son for the majority of her life, Emma Swan has told herself she’s happy in the city. It’s where the most camera operating jobs are, and that’s how she makes her money. But when an old friend calls her and asks for her help on a new project in small town Maine, Emma finds herself in a place she’s never been with people she doesn’t know filming a profession she knows nothing about. But when the captain of the ship she’s filming begins taking a keen interest in her and her life, she finds herself wondering whether she might just catch something other than fish. Deadliest Catch AU Rating: M Content warning: Character death, some violent situations

FFnet/AO3/Cover art/Snapshot art

Chapter Three

They make it into a road trip, not that they have any other choice. It’s not like she can afford to ship all of their stuff across the country, especially after the down payment she had to make on the house.

(To be fair, if she were to have a dream house, this would be as close as she could get to it. Slightly Victorian, three bedrooms, a view. It really is something else.)

She rents a U-Haul and they load as much furniture and as many boxes as they can into it on a Thursday night right after Henry graduates the fifth grade.

(Even on her deathbed, she will not admit to tearing up at that silly ceremony. He’s moving to middle school, not leaving the house and going to college.

Still, he’s her little boy and he’s growing up far too fast for her liking.)

It takes a lot of time and strength – especially the couch and their mattresses, she has Henry run to their neighbors and ask for their help – but the truck is full and her trusty Bug is hooked to the hitch, all ready for them to set off in the morning.

“How long is it going to take us?” Henry asks that night as they sit on the floor of their empty living room eating pizza.

She shrugs. “Probably closer to a week than not,” she tells him in between bites. “Depends on how much driving we do in a day.”

“You mean you do,” he quips back.

Emma makes a scrunchy face of displeasure. “I expect you to entertain me. No falling asleep for the entire ride.”

Smug smirk intact, Henry chomps on the last bit of his slice. “I promise nothing.”

They both sit in silence for a while, digesting and contemplating their next step in life together. At least on Emma’s part, memories of what’s occurred in this apartment flitter across her mind. Frequently stubbing her toe on that doorjamb, Henry sticking seasonal jellies on that window for the world below to see.

It’s not much, but it’s been a psuedo-home for them.

Henry breaks the quiet by standing up to stretch. “Can we stop at some famous places?” he asks.

Standing up beside him, careful not to spill any of her leftover crumbs on the sleeping bag they’ll sleep in tonight, Emma says, “That’s up to you. You’re going to be my navigator.”

His eyes go wide and he utters yes under his breath. “Perfect for Operation Pirate!”

Emma rolls her eyes. “Yeah, yeah,” she says through her last bite of pizza. Brushing her hands off, she nudges him toward the sleeping bag that awaits him in what used to be his bedroom. “You’re going to have to get a good night’s sleep to be worthy of my first mate tomorrow.”

(Although how she’ll sleep tonight as the captain of their vessel is up for debate.)

(She’s not going to sleep well at all.)

But still, Emma is taking one last walk through the apartment as the first rays of that hot Arizona sun hit her for the last time. She’s got hot chocolate in one hand and her phone in the other, watching for a reasonable time to wake up Henry and savoring these last moments alone.

And then it’s on the road. Phoenix to Albuquerque, Tulsa to Cincinnati, a brief hop around (and maybe illegally over, whoops) the border at Niagara Falls. It takes them about ten days, with all the stopping Henry has her doing, but it’s well worth it. When else are they going to road trip across the country like this?

When she pulls off the highway exit marked Storybrooke, Emma finally understands what David and Jefferson meant. Not even five minutes’ drive from the highway and they’re surrounded by trees. A couple more minutes and Emma watches as a sign welcoming them to town rolls past the passenger window.

It really is small. Smaller than she thought it would be, but somehow also larger.

(To be fair, she had no idea what she was expecting. She just knew that it wasn’t anything like Phoenix.)

There’s one stoplight at the entrance of town, flashing yellow. There’s the diner, a B&B, what looks like a handful of mom and pop shops. Absentmindedly, Emma wonders where these people get their groceries because Storybrooke doesn’t seem like the sort of place to house a Winn Dixie or a Giant.

She turns right at the next intersection, heading closer to the water. Her foot lets off the gas and the car slows to a crawl as Emma peers at the numbers adorning each house and mailbox.

The house looks just like the pictures, maybe better. The sun is setting behind it when she pushes the gearshift into park on the street. Surprising no one, Henry is conked out, his head leaning up against the window with his jacket balled up in the space between his head and shoulder.

Turning the truck off, Emma’s careful to be quiet getting out. She doesn’t want to wake Henry, number one, but number two, she wants some time to explore her new digs on her own.

The gate squeaks a little bit as she pushes it open. The third step up to the front door creaks when she puts her weight on it. Ms. Shoemaker told her she’d put a key beneath the welcome mat, and when Emma squats down, she finds the key in the exact middle of the dusty outline. Carefully, she inserts the key into the lock, turns it, and gently opens the door.

She’s got a house. A real bonafide house with a fence and a porch and a fucking welcome mat.

For a moment, she allows silent tears to roll down her cheeks, her hand over her mouth to hold sobs in. As a kid, this is all she really wanted: a place to plant roots, somewhere to look forward to coming back to at the end of the day. She had it for a little bit before Neal and now it’s come back to her somehow.

Right now, Storybrooke feels like the right decision.

After wiping her face and cleaning herself up a bit, Emma heads back to the truck and, this time, she doesn’t hesitate slamming doors and talking to herself. Henry’s got to wake up, which he does with a start when she sneezes while grabbing her purse.

“Are we here?” he asks slowly, stumbling over his words and rubbing his eyes.

“Yeah,” she replies quietly. She nods toward the house behind him as she adds, “The house is unlocked if you want to go look at it, but I thought we’d just call it a night.”

His jaw cracks with a yawn. “Good idea,” Henry grumbles, “Which one’s David and Mary Margaret’s?”

“To the right.” Probably. She’s kind of focused on going through her purse to make sure nothing fell out in between pit stops, but even then, when she hears the passenger door groan open, Emma instinctively tells him, “Be polite and knock on the front door. They know we’re coming.”

“Okay.” Emma hears him fumbling around and grabbing his backpack from his foot space before the passenger door slams shut behind him.

She follows suit, finding everything in her purse in its proper place for once, and closes the driver’s door. She inhales deeply, soaking in those last sweet rays of midsummer sun. It had been staring her in the face all day, burning her eyes more often than not, but after a long day of driving, it’s relaxing.

Still, all Emma wants is some food, a shower, and sleep. Lots of it.

Thankfully, living next door to friends makes that easy.

Emma’s pulling her and Henry’s bags from the Bug when she first hears the squeals. She barely has time to turn around before arms wrap around her shoulders and pull her into a tight hug.

“You made it!” Mary Margaret says in her ear, moving them back and forth. “I’ve been worried sick about you.”

Chuckling, Emma drops the bag she’s holding and returns the embrace. “I texted you when we were in Portland.”

“I know, but you’ve been driving for days, so I know it’s probably been tough.” With a contented sigh, Mary Margaret releases her from her grasp and pulls back to observe her. Even when they barely knew each other, Emma always felt like the other woman eyed her up and down like a mother would: made sure her clothes were clean and sturdy, her hair washed, her stomach satisfied. “Are you guys hungry? Do you want to start unpacking?”

“I don’t know about the kid, but I could use some food and a shower.”

Fully embracing that mothering nature of hers, Mary Margaret picks up Henry’s bag and begins to usher her up and into her home. “David’s just finishing up the spare room. I hope Henry doesn’t mind sleeping on a hideaway in the office.”

“He’s ten, his back will recover from it if necessary,” Emma says with a laugh. She heaves her own bag over her shoulder and takes a step away from Mary Margaret to head back to her house. “I’ve got to lock the place back up, but I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that.” The way her friend waves off the idea of safety - although there isn’t anything in the house right now, Emma still doesn’t want people going into it uninvited - appalls her. Mary Margaret glances back at her once she reaches the gate and shakes her head good naturedly. “People in town don’t really do that, especially for buildings they know aren’t lived in.”

Cautiously following her, Emma narrows her eyes. “Do people know that we’re going to live there?”

Mary Margaret nods. “They know someone is. Not you specifically,” she clarifies. She looks back at Emma again, at her raised brows and general air of confusion about her. Mary Margaret shrugs. “It’s a small town.”

“No kidding,” Emma scoffs under her breath.

Opening the front door, Emma is hit with the overwhelming sense of comfort. Before she even takes a complete step into the house, she can smell something delicious wafting out the door. It’s vaguely reminiscent of late night study sessions at the 24-hour diner near campus, of rocking Henry to sleep in his bucket carseat while trying to catch up on what she missed while incarcerated. It’s comforting and a little bit stressing, but overall relaxes Emma.

Actually making her way into the house, she spots the blanket she used to wrap herself in on the few occasions she hung out at Mary Margaret’s over the back of the couch. She recognizes a picture hanging on the wall in the entryway: it’s a picture of David grinning wide at a laughing baby Henry, her son’s eyes squinted closed in pure joy. She remembers taking that picture, one evening while the two of them tried to study for a test. Henry had been crying since they sat down, keeping them from doing anything, and didn’t stop until David picked him up and started making funny faces.

It’s comforting. It’s home. Not hers - her new home is approximately 150 feet to the left - but what she felt was home for the first time in that big city all on her own.

Her moment of reverie comes to a halt when David comes clunking down the stairs to her right. She looks up, smile already across her face in preparation for seeing the man who’s the closest thing she has to a brother in her life.

“Emma!” He wraps her up in a warm hug before he even reaches the bottom step. “Glad to see you made it across the country in one piece.”

“Yeah, there were some close calls there,” she jokes. Nodding toward the second level, she asks, “Where’s Henry?”

“He’s upstairs in the office settling in.”

“Did he ask you for the wifi password?”

“No, but I gave it to him anyways.” David claps her on the back and ushers her toward the kitchen, wrapping his arm around her shoulder as she wraps hers around his waist. “That’s how kids function these days, if Mary Margaret’s to be believed.”

“I’ve got it on good authority,” Mary Margaret interjects, carefully pouring a pot of pasta into a colander in the sink. When the steam clears, she busies herself with checking the sauce on the stove and dressing the salad next to the sink.

She’s so domestic, Emma thinks, settling nicely into the role of Mrs. Nolan. The way that David leaves her side to gather silverware and set up the table without so much as a question shows he’s acclimated to the husband title quite as well.

(She’s happy for them, she really is, but it is a little bit sickening in the way that watching puppies and babies play for too long is nauseating.)

“So dinner’s nothing too fancy, but there’s a lot of it, so we should all have enough for tonight and then I can send you back with leftovers.”

“Oh,” Emma comments, caught off-guard by her friend’s thoughtfulness. “Thanks Mary Margaret.”

She slides the pasta into a serving bowl with a smile in her direction. “That’s what I’m here for.” With the pot of sauce in one hand and a ladle in the other, Mary Margaret points between her and her husband. “We’re here for,” she corrects herself. “Really though. Especially as you guys are getting accustomed to the place and the job. If you need me to watch Henry, that’s fine. I’ll be working at the summer camp soon, but he can come with me.”

All Emma can do is nod and mutter, “Thanks.”

David sneaks up behind her and surprises her with a brotherly kiss to her temple. Emma, unable to help herself, giggles. “And we’ll help you out tomorrow with moving things in,” he offers, walking past her to press a sweet kiss to Mary Margaret’s cheek before taking the salad bowl she’s holding.

Emma sighs in relief. “Great. Henry’s strong for his age, but moving that couch by myself was horrible.”

David laughs as he sets the bowl on the dinner table. “I can’t possibly understand why.”

“Are we ready to eat?” Mary Margaret asks.

“I was born ready.” Chuckling to herself, Emma steps to the bottom of the stairs, shouting up for Henry to wash his hands and make his way down, “or else I’m going to eat your dinner too!”

“Don’t you dare, Mom!” he responds quickly, sounding almost like a baby elephant trying to run for the first time.

Henry stumbles down the stairs soon after, barreling into the only empty chair left at the table. Together, the four of them eat in what soon becomes one of the happiest meals of Emma’s life. Henry and David hit it off immediately, trading smiles identical to the one hanging up only a few feet behind both of them. The Nolans talk about their wedding and subsequent honeymoon in the U.K., staying in castles and being treated like a king and queen. It’s nice to catch up with them. It makes Emma feel like she was privy to something she knows she has no right to be privy to.

The boys scarf down their food - second servings, even, in the case of her son - before quickly washing their dishes and scurrying off to the living room to watch some show David had DVR’d and Henry had been dying to watch.

Meanwhile, Mary Margaret and Emma stay at the table, talking and sipping at their respective glasses of wine until Emma yawns so intensely that it causes her jaw to crack audibly enough for her friend to hear it.

“Oh, I’m sorry for keeping you up,” Mary Margaret swiftly apologizes, her hand coming to rest on Emma’s knee in sympathy. “You must be exhausted.”

“A bit, yeah,” Emma admits. Another yawn surprises her and her one eyelid feels heavy with fatigue.

Standing from her seat, Mary Margaret grabs Emma’s hand to help her rise as well. “Here, let me show you to the guest room.” She leads Emma up the stairs, saying, “I know you’re pressed to move everything in, but don’t worry about getting up early tomorrow. Sleep in, take some time for yourself. We’ll take care of Henry until you get up.”

For some reason, Emma starts to tear up. She’s been on her own raising Henry for a decade that her friend’s simple offer to care for him is too much at this exhaustion level.

“Thank you, Mary Margaret,” she says graciously. Slowly, Emma opens her arms, silently asking for a hug, an offer Mary Margaret is more than happy to take her up on. “I know I’ve said it a million times since I got here, but I mean it.”

“You’re not alone here,” Mary Margaret whispers in her ear, her chin comfortably tucked into her shoulder. “This is the village it takes to raise a child.”

They linger in that embrace for a couple of minutes, Emma taking the time to absorb the warmth and homeyness that Mary Margaret emitted. Those tears from earlier threaten to roll down Emma’s cheek - fat drops that are completely unnecessary for such a happy moment. Sniffing, she finally pulls back and sends her friend a watery grin.

Mary Margaret mimics her smile, patting Emma’s cheek gently. “Sleep well, Emma. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Yeah, see you in the morning,” she mumbles back. Stepping into the guest room, Emma happily falls onto the mattress and sinks into oblivion, traveling clothes and all.

#cs ff #csbb #captain swan big bang #ouat #storytime #my words #and now we say hello to mary margaret and david! #lowkey mom and dad of the story #not at all lowkey #but like #i love their dynamic #and emma missed them a lot