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bitch-for-bo · 3 years

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Jealousy (Miya Atsumu x chubby reader)

POST TIME SKIP

Bokuto and his childhood best friend have gotten awfully close lately, a little too close for Atsumu's liking. He's mad about how much attention you give to Bokuto after a game, when you confront him about his attitude, things quickly get out of control.

ABSOLUTELY NO MINORS ALLOWED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Atsumu’d had enough. He’d been watching you shamelessly ogle over and compliment Bokuto for the last five minutes, and you’d failed to notice him or congratulate him once. All he’d gotten so far was a quick kiss along with a ‘good game’ before you’d ran over to Bokuto to hype the hitter up.

He didn’t care that you were just having a light good-natured conversation with your childhood friend. All he could focus on was the way that your bodies were unconsciously tilted towards each other or how Bokuto’s hands were lingering a little too much as he wrapped them around you for a hug.

It wasn’t just today either. All it had been with you for the last week at least, was how awesome and strong Bokuto was. Not to mention how built he was. God, you went to the gym with Bokuto once, and now you wouldn’t stop rambling about how surprisingly ripped the spiker was beneath his jersey.

All it was was,

“Oh my god, did you know that Bokuto can hip thrust almost 600 pounds! God! He could crush me with those thighs!”

“We were goofing off and Bokuto actually picked me up and squatted me!”

All of these things were said in front of the whole MSMBY team, causing Bokuto to puff up with pride, Hinata to marvel at his awesomeness, Sakusa not to care, and Atsumu to go off and seeth to himself.

Of course, you didn’t know the effect that you had on Atsumu. You couldn’t tell that every time you playfully flirted with Bokuto, telling him how handsome and strong he was, that Atsumu was filled with the urge to rip you away and fuck you right in front of the whole team, letting them know just who you belonged to.

You didn’t know this because, while Atsumu was incredible at communicating with his teammates, he was shit at expressing his feelings when it came to you. This led to him bottling up all of his feelings until they became too much for him. At which time he would go and rant to a very jaded and very annoyed Kiyoomi.

“Yeah, but did you see that one hit in the second set Y/N! Wasn’t it awesome!” Bokuto asked excitedly, bouncing back and forth on the pads of his feet as the two of you had a very animated conversation about the game he just played.

“Of course I did Bo! It was so cool!” You exclaimed back, matching his exuberant energy with your own.

You were incredibly proud of your childhood best friend, and you were super thankful that he just happened to be on the same team as your boyfriend. It made it to where you were always able to cheer both of them on without them being on opposite sides of the court. In your eyes, it was a win-win.

“Yeah well, maybe it was ‘cause someone gave you an awesome set,” Atsumu grumbled just loud enough for you and Bokuto to hear as he stood a couple of feet away from you with his arms crossed and a childish scowl on his face.

“Oh, don’t be like that Tsumu. Bo’s spike was fantastic!” You lightly scolded the blonde to which he just made a ‘hmph’ sound before turning and sulking away.

You had no clue why Tsumu got like this when you congratulated Bokuto. It wasn’t like you didn’t congratulate him as well. You always made sure that the blonde was the first and the last to receive cheers from you. So you had no idea why he was being so fussy lately.

As Atsumu walked away Bokuto could practically see the waves of anger radiating off of his back, and he guiltily ignored them. He knew why Atsumu acted like that when Y/N congratulated his spikes. He knew why Atsumu hated the idea of his girlfriend going to the gym and hanging out with one of his teammates.

He knew that the way that he interacted with Y/N made Atsumu angry, but he ashamedly did it regardless.

He couldn’t help it. The two of you had been so close as children, you grew up together, he knew everything about you. He knew your favorite color, all of your fears, your dreams, and when the two of you had decided to attend different high schools and got out of touch it had really hurt him.

That was why he was so happy when he joined the Jackals, that you just happened to be the girlfriend of one of his new teammates. Over the last couple of months, the two of you had re-ignited your old friendship and things were just like old times.

Well, they were just like old times until Bokuto realized that you weren’t the kid he used to know. Your personality was fundamentally the same, but drastically different at the same time.

He remembered back in primary school just how shy and insecure of a girl you were. He remembered defending you against the people who would bully you for your size, and comforting you when you cried about the mean things they would say.

Bokuto had always despised those people that had made you hate yourself. So every chance he got he would try to cheer you up and let you know just how great you really were.

Over the years, that insecure part of you really changed. It changed so much that at first Bokuto wasn’t sure if it was really you. No longer did you walk with your gaze on the floor, covering your body with too-baggy clothing. No longer did you apologize unnecessarily or hold your tongue in conversations.

The moment that he’d seen you with Atsumu, he was completely taken back. You had been wearing a corset top and jeans that perfectly hugged your plush frame as well as a pair of black heels.

You had always been afraid of showing your body like that in the past. You didn’t like the way that your stomach wasn’t flat or the way that your thighs rubbed together and shook when you walked. He’d also never seen you in a pair of heels before, you were always afraid of being taller than the guys seeing as you were already pretty tall without heels on.

Much to Bokuto’s surprise and delight, you finally seemed comfortable in your body, confident even. And for good reason too because, in Bokuto’s opinion, your body had developed into one of the best bodies he’d ever seen. He would discreetly stare at you when you were with the team, his eyes fixating on the way that you jiggled and bounced every time you moved. He couldn’t help but develop a bit of jealousy towards Atsumu. After all, you were the blonde’s and not his, and sometimes, he would let his mind stray and wonder if he’d be in Atsumu’s place if the two of you had never lost touch.

“Anyways,” you said, pulling Bokuto out of his small daydream, “Are you guys gonna go out and celebrate tonight?”

You made sure to ask loud enough to where all of the Jackal’s heard. The players you didn’t speak to much just ignored you, including the captain who muttered something about being way too beat to go clubbing.

Hinata said he was going to go and hang out with Kageyama.

Sakusa said he wanted to go shower and rest.

And Atsumu was still fuming to himself, refusing to acknowledge your question.

“Hmm, I guess not,” Bokuto said, his hair slightly deflating. He was thinking about how it would be fun to go out when his body suddenly reminded him of the hard game that he just played. “To tell the truth Y/N, I’m pretty exhausted. I think I’ll follow Kiyoomi’s lead and just rest up.”

You frowned, yet nodded in understanding. They just played a really strenuous match so you couldn’t blame any of them for not feeling up to going out.

“I get it, make sure you all recover well!” you offered, your bright signature smile coming across your face and managing to increase the atmosphere’s energy a bit.

Bokuto waved as he and Hinata left the gym to head back to the hotel they were staying at for the night, each of them recapping their best plays of the night like feuding children.

You waved back before turning to your boyfriend, your frown returning when you saw that he was still sulking.

Atsumu didn’t even acknowledge you as he walked right past you and stomped out of the gym. Your frown only deepened at your boyfriend’s behavior, was he really opposed to you congratulating his teammates?

“Hey!” you called after Atsumu, trying to jog to catch up to him. “Hey!” you restated, you could tell that he was taking a little longer strides than usual, knowing that your chubby legs wouldn’t be able to keep up unless you shifted from a walk to a jog.

After he still didn’t reply, you decided to hold your tongue until you got to his hotel room, you didn’t want everyone in the building hearing your relationship squabbles and you definitely didn’t want to attract the attention of any paparazzi.

The walk to the hotel was dead silent. Atsumu was making no attempt to talk to you, and you decided that if he didn’t want to talk to you, you didn’t want to talk to him. And even if you did want to talk to him, you’d have to jog as you did it seeing as the asshole was still walking just fast enough to stay two or three strides ahead of you.

Once you made it to the hotel and after a very awkward elevator ride, the two of you arrived at the door to his room. He turned to look at you.

“You’re not planning on staying are you?” He asked coldly, looking down his nose at you as your mouth popped open in surprise.

While Atsumu was normally a great boyfriend, he really knew exactly what to say to hurt you. After a couple of months of dating, you had opened up to him about your past traumas and admitted to him that you used to only feel like a nuisance to people. He’d assured you that you were never a nuisance to him, that he could never grow tired of you. And him saying that made you feel a little bit better about that particular insecurity. So when he said that, your heart dropped.

“Oh,” you said quietly.

As soon as your gaze dropped to the floor, Atsumu knew that he’d really fucked up and guilt automatically began eating at his stomach. He felt incredibly bad and yet his mouth wouldn’t open to apologize.

“ok,” you continued, you could feel yourself wanting to cry but stopped yourself in fear of your tears only fueling Atsumu’s annoyance with you.

No one liked a clingy crybaby, you told yourself as you bit your lip to hold back the emotions.

“I guess I’ll just go back home, maybe I’ll see if Bo wants to go get some food,” you mumbled, turning to leave the setter.

“Of fucking course…” you heard Atsumu muttered under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear.

You turned back around, slightly angry at Atsumu’s attitude. You had tried to be sensible and walk away, giving him space, but if the asshole wanted to talk under his breath at you, you had every right to get angry. If he thought something was wrong he needed to man up and let it out.

“What’d you say?” You asked, your hands starting to fist at your sides.

“You heard me.” Atsumu sneered back, crossing his arms across his chest but not retreating into his hotel room. If anything the actions only caused your frustration to grow. Why the fuck was he being like this? He’s acting like a literal child.

You took a few quick steps towards the blonde, jabbing your finger into his chest as you glared up at him.

“Listen,” you hissed, “I have no fucking clue why you’re acting like this, but it’s not cute and it’s hurting my feelings. I’m not a mind-reader, if you have something bothering you, you have to tell me.”

“What?” Atsumu growled. He couldn’t believe that you really didn’t know what was bothering him. There was no way someone could be that fucking naive.

“You heard me.” you snipped back, your arms coming up to cross your body in a stance mirroring his.

Before you could tell what was happening, Atusmu had grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you inside of his room, the door slamming behind the two of you as he automatically trapped your body against it.

While you were still stunned by the extreme progression of events, Atsumu had unlooped your belt and fastened it around your wrists, securing them firmly behind your back.

“Hey! What the fuck Atsumu!” You seethed, your arms straining against the leather as the position forced your chest out against Atsumu’s.

“You really wanna know what’s bothering me?” he asked, the anger visible on his face.

“Yes!” You exclaimed in frustration, “that’s what I’ve been wanting to know for the last 15 goddamn minutes!”

As soon as you’d finished your sentence, Atsumu’s face got eerily calm. Instead of the scowl that’d been on his face a second ago, there was his usual smirk. A chill ran down your spine.

His hands left their place on your confined wrists to tightly grip your hips, almost hard enough to leave bruises.

“What a dirty mouth for such a pretty little thing.” He drawled, leaning closer to you until you could almost taste the sweat that had dried onto his temples.

“What ar-”

“ Shhh …” he cut you off, one hand coming up to press a finger against your mouth before going back down and curling lightly around your throat. “You wanna know what’s bothering me, Princess?”

His lips were against your jaw, his teeth scraping against the skin as he mumbled.

“Maybe…..” he continued, the hand that was on your hip tracing across your stomach until it came to the button of your jeans. He popped them open, eliciting another protest from you which he silenced with a slightly harder squeeze to your throat.

Your body was betraying you with every touch he left against your skin. You really didn’t want to give him the reactions that he so clearly craved, but you just couldn’t help the way your body responded to him.

“Maybe it’s because you dress like such a little slut at my games…. Are you trying to distract me, Princess?” He asked, his teeth disconnecting from your jaw as he pulled your jeans down and off of your body before reconnecting even rougher than before.

All you’d been wearing to the match was a pair of high waisted denims along with a simple black cropped tank top, you’d have worn one of Atsumu’s jerseys but they were all dirty at the moment. It was a simple outfit, it wasn’t anything to get pissed over, definitely not this pissed.

“No” you mumbled, still not wanting to let Atsumu know that his touch was affecting you as much as it was.

“Or were you trying to distract other guys, Princess? Were ya trying to show off yer pretty body to them like a little whore?”

Atsumu had worked your jeans completely off and was hooking his fingers around the band of your panties, obviously planning to tear them off of you as well.

Atsumu had never called you such mean things before and part of you hated the idea of him trying to tear your confidence down with the terms, but at the same time, there was no denying the terrible effect it was having on your body. You felt yourself getting wetter and wetter at the condescending words of your boyfriend and your resolve was quickly dissipating into the want to obey and submit to him with every fiber of your being.

“N-No!” you stuttered as you squealed at the feeling of Atusumu practically ripping your panties off of your body.

“ Liar.” he spat before taking your soaked panties and stuffing them into your mouth, effectively shutting you up as you moaned around the cloth at the lewd actions.

“You wanted all those guys to stare at yer ass didn’t you?” he asked, punctuating the question with a sharp slap to your ass, making you cry out and fall against his chest as he pulled you into him, one hand gripping your throat still as the other began to roam your plush silhouette.

“Or did you want them looking at your pretty tits?” he continued, taking your tank top between his fingers and pulling it down to expose your heaving chest, discovering that you’d been wearing one of those tops with a built-in bra.

“ A-aa ” you tried to moan out his name around the gag as his graceful setter fingers began to play with your already hard nipples.

“No bra? You really are my little slut aren’t ya? ” One of his hands continued to play with your breasts as the other slowly dragged down your waist, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

You keened against his body as his middle finger roughly slipped across your slit, drawing delicious circles around your clit. The fight in you was almost completely gone. You hadn’t forgiven your asshole boyfriend, it just felt so good to have him pressed up against you like this, touching you, controlling you.

“ Shit... “ he grunted, his finger sliding easily against you due to how incredibly wet you were for him.

His cock was straining against his shorts, but he knew that he didn’t want to give you his cock just yet, he needed to punish you first for how you’d been acting. Acting so naughty, such a little tease. You deserved to be taught a lesson.

“Does watching me play make you horny Princess, do you stand there and imagine getting to sit on my cock?” He asked, his fingers playing with your pussy as he started to walk you into the bathroom, his fingers never leaving your cunt.

“Mhmm.” You moaned in compliance.

Your body was hot with the need for his cock inside of you as the memory of the game played in your head. The way that he moved on the court never failed to soak your panties as you stood and cheered him on in the audience. Every single game you would watch his serves, just thinking about how he was just as powerful off the court as he was on. You couldn’t help but get wet just thinking about the possibility of fucking him after the game.

You thought that, with how Atsumu was acting, you weren’t going to get any victory dick today, turns out that you were obviously wrong. Not only were you getting dick, you were getting it like you’d never gotten it before. You could still feel the anger seeping out of Atsumu as his cruel fingers continued to torture you.

“Well, only good girls get their pussies stuffed.” he breathed against your neck, a pitiful whine leaving your lips as he slowly pushed a finger into your pussy.

“ Are you gonna be a good girl for me? ” He asked, mentally groaning at the way your soft walls clenched around the thick digit.

With the way that your tight wet cunt fluttered around his fingers, he almost forgot why he was mad. It was incredible the way that you could make him forget things like that, the way that you had him wrapped around your cute stubby fingers.

“Mhm!” you nodded frantically. Your hands were still bound and your mouth still gagged, so all you could do to convey your desperate message was moan and rub yourself against Atsumu like a bitch in heat, your hips pathetically trying to fuck yourself down onto his finger.

“What’s that?” he snickered, a second finger pressing into your cunt as the first found your g-spot, stroking up into the spongy texture without mercy.

You cried out, you could feel yourself starting to lose it. Usually, you could last much longer than this, but something about the way that Atsumu was manhandling you this time, made it so much harder to keep cool.

It felt like the setter had taken over all of your senses as he continued to finger fuck you into the wall of the bathroom. One hand was fucking your pussy and massaging your clit while the other was kneading your tits, pinching your nipples. At the same time, his mouth was latched onto your neck, sucking deep bruises into the skin, branding you for his whole team to see.

“That’s right Princess..” he groaned, he could feel you clenching harder around his fingers and he knew that you were getting close. “Imma mark you up so good everyone’s gonna know who you belong to.”

You knew that Atsumu was the jealous, possessive type, but nothing could’ve prepared you for just how extreme the problem was. You still didn’t know what sparked this little tantrum and you had the feeling that you wouldn't be able to pull the reason out of the setter until you let him have his way. Hopefully, you’d be able to walk after.

You could feel your end rising, the familiar feeling of a rubber band in your lower belly getting ready to snap. You threw your head back against the wall, trying to keep yourself from crying with the delicious pressure building up inside of you.

Atsumu must’ve known you were close, he used his free hand to help you rotate your arms over your head, twisting the belt around to allow the movement but not to allow you freedom.

“Hold your cunt open for me baby,” he demanded, guiding your hand down to your pussy and directing your arms to press against your stomach and your fingers to hold yourself open to where he could see his fingers fucking into you.

You were a mess, moaning and drooling around the gag as Atsumu’s gaze focused on the way that you continued to suck him back in with every pump of his wrist. He spat on his other hand before giving your clit a light spank, making you jerk against his hold, all of the air completely leaving your lungs as you clenched around his fingers.

“ Yeah …” he growled, his palm beginning to rub against your clit, the quick wet movements making you start crying with pleasure.

“W-nmnmwn” you begged around the gag, trying to warm Atsumu that you were about to cum. He liked it when you asked permission, so you always did and now your body was conditioned to where you almost couldn’t cum without him saying you could.

“What was that Princess?” he asked smugly, he knew exactly what you were trying to say. He knew that while you were acting like a little whore towards Bokuto lately, he was the one that owned your body, he knew that his baby wouldn’t disobey him and cum without permission.

You continued to beg around the gag, your hips and legs burning with the exertion of searching for your high against his hand. You were getting desperate. You looked up at your boyfriend.

Atsumu almost came at the sight of you looking up at him.

You looked so pretty for him, drool on your chin, tears in your eyes, he swore that before he was done with you, those tears would be running down your face, that he would make you cry and beg for his cock, make you admit that only he could fuck you this good. Not Bokuto, not anyone, just him.

“Do you wanna cum for me, Princess?” He asked.

You nodded.

“Okay then… cum for me Princess …” he demanded, leaning in, pulling down your gag, and taking your lips in a punishing kiss.

You cried out into his mouth, your orgasm finally washing over your body, causing it to spasm and jerk in Atsumu’s grip as he held you to his body, his fingers brutally fucking you through your high.

As soon as you’d stopped shaking, Atsumu slipped his fingers out of you and flipped you around, pressing his cock against your ass as your front was pressed into the bathroom counter. You rested your head down against the mirror, your eyes closing as your body still reeled from your orgasm.

You needed a little breather, but that wasn’t in Atsumu’s plan. His hand came down across your ass, making you squeak and lurch forward, your tits pressing down against the counter and your ass popping up into the air.

“Now come on Princess,” he drawled, pulling his cock out of his pants and thrusting it into you without warning, ripping a cry from your chest, “yer not tired yet are ya? We’re just getting started!”

“Nooo please ‘Tsumu...” you gasped, pushing yourself further into the counter, trying and failing to evade his touch.

His cock was hot and heavy inside of your still spasming pussy. You could feel every vein in him as you continued to pulse around him, he almost felt like his dick was suffocating in your soft puffy walls.

Atsumu groaned as he started to slowly fuck into you. He knew that if he started out going as fast as he’d like to, he’d be finished way too soon for his liking so he decided to slow his hips, his cock languidly dragging against your warm insides.

Atsumu couldn’t help these feelings of jealousy. After all, Bokuto was bigger and stronger than him. Deep down, he knew that the reason he was so bitter about you and the hitter’s friendship was that he was afraid of you leaving him for the owl-like spiker.

That’s why Atsumu chose to fuck you in the bathroom. He knew that the wall in the bathroom was the closest wall to Bokuto’s room. He knew that if he fucked you hard enough, he could make you scream his name loud enough to where his teammate would hear you. Then Bokuto would know just who you wanted stuffing your pretty little pussy.

“Come on Princess.” he teased, his hips grinding against your ass with a particularly hard thrust that had your mouth popping open and your lungs gasping for air.

“ You know you love this cock ……” he grunted when your pussy flared around him, clenching against his cock at the words, he grinned, he never knew that you liked getting fucked like a little slut, but now that he knew he swore that he’d never be able to return to fucking you like he had before. Not with the way that you were leaking for him as his degrading words cut through you like a hot knife.

You’d already adjusted to having him inside of you, the heat of him inside of you only being soothed by the cool countertop against your tits. You moaned with every thrust, you could already feel your mind beginning to fog over as Atsumu thrust behind you, plotting to fuck you dumb.

He suddenly stilled his hips, making you whine, trying to push yourself back onto him.

“‘Tsumu…” you whined, your eyes meeting his in the bathroom mirror, “move…”

He smirked, clicking his tongue at his messed up little baby.

“Tell me how much you love my cock, Princess.” He said, taking his dick completely out of you to rub it against your pussy lips, “tell me how much you love it and maybe I’ll fuck you again.”

Your face burned with humiliation. Atsumu had never acted this way before. Sure he was an asshole, but never this much of an asshole. That being said, there was no denying the impact that this side of Tsumu had on your body. You felt like you’d been enveloped in fire, every part of it burning up with need.

“ Please ‘Tsumu… .” you begged, “ I love your big cock so much….please fuck me …”

Atsumu groaned, his dick twitching against your slit. He loved hearing you like this, your voice broken as you begged for him to fill you. He could see the tears beginning to fall down your cheeks. So pretty.

“Since you asked so nicely Princess-” he cooed before harshly pumping his cock back into you, starting to fuck into you at a pace that had you crying and bucking back against him.

“Fuck!” you cried, “ Fuck- Tsumu…. Harder…. Fuck me harder ” you begged, you let your forehead fall forward against the mirror, your eyes drifting close.

“Shit” Tsumu growled through gritted teeth, you were so tight around him. He looked up to see your eyes closed.

‘Now that won’t do..’ he thought before threading a hand through your hair and pulling your head back off of the mirror, making a moan spill from your mouth and your eyes spring open.

“Come on Princess,” he panted, “ I wanna see your pretty tears while I fuck you. ”

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

This was Atsumu’s favorite way to fuck you until you were crying and shaking around his cock. You looked so pretty with that dumb little look on your face, your eyes and lips puffy as you begged him to make you cum, telling him that all of it was too much for your poor little pussy.

He knew that you were reaching your limits, your pussy was fucked raw after 4 orgasms. You weren’t even able to form full sentences anymore, the only words coming out of your mouth were ‘more’ and ‘please’ along with all of your pretty pathetic little cries.

“‘Tsumu….” you cried, you could feel your fifth orgasm coming up inside of you. You didn’t know how much longer you could do this. Your clit was almost numb with how abused it’d been. Your nipples and tits were sore, and while you couldn’t see it, you knew that your whole body would be covered in bruises and marks tomorrow.

“ Please….hurts… ”

“Come on Princess….” he murmured as his fingers came down against your clit, “ just one more…”

You just whined in response, your hips jerking slowly against his pace. Your body was almost finished, but you knew that you had to give him just one more...one more and he’d finally let you rest.

“.... ..gonna….. gonna …” you panted.

Atsumu grinned down at you, your body was wrecked, your head was lolled to the side with your tongue hanging out as he fucked you hard enough for your tits and stomach to bounce with each thrust.

God, you looked so perfect for him. The way that your curves pressed against his body, the way that your pussy squelched with each thrust due to all of his cum that he’d dumped inside of you, all of it- all of you, was perfect… you were fucking built just for him.

“Me too baby…” he moaned, tossing his head back as he felt his third and probably finally orgasm approaching.

His fingers started playing with your puffy clit even faster making you choke on your tears, a new feeling entirely rising up.

You’d never felt this before, a look of horror suddenly came over your face as you began to feel like you were gonna piss.

“no… ’Tsumu!” you cried out, his pace not stopping at all as he began to feel your walls growing stiff.

He’d read about this before on the internet, seen it in porn, but never did he think that he’d actually be blessed enough to witness it.

“Fuck…” he moaned, his voice breaking as he sped up against your pussy.

“No… ” you gripped his forearms in fear, if you accidentally pissed on your boyfriend, you’d be left with no choice but to break up with him out of pure humiliation.

“ Please stop ‘Tsumu…’m gonna make a mess .”

He groaned at the fat tears rolling down your face. He knew what you were thinking, you’d probably never squirted for anyone before, you were probably surprised and scared. He knew he should reaffirm you, tell you it was okay. But he couldn't help but love the panic mixed with pleasure on your face as you begged him to stop.

“Come on Princess.” he panted, “ come on ….”

His hips were snapping into your at an inhuman speed now, each time his cock head bumped up against your g-spot.

“ You can do it Princess …” he promised, his fingers urging you to let you.

You shook your head, the tears of embarrassment running down your chin as you desperately tried to keep it in. You cried out, you could feel yourself starting to slip.

“ No- Fuck! ‘Tsumu!” you screamed, your body starting to convulse as liquid gushed out of your pussy, soaking Atsumu’s cock as he cummed into you, his eyes almost going crossed as you squirted all over his hips, the clear liquid running down his balls and dripping onto the bathroom floor.

“Fuck….yeah… squirt for me Babe. .” he groaned, riding out his high as you cried and gasped out his name.

He finally slowed his hips, your body completely limp with humiliation beneath him.

“Such a good girl….” he soothed, pushing the sweat-soaked hair out of your face as you continued to bawl.

“ ‘M sorry ‘Tsumu… ” you sobbed, still thinking you pissed all over your boyfriend’s cock.

“Don’t be sorry Princess, you did so good…you squirted so good for me Baby..you made such a good mess for me.”

For some reason, at Atsumu’s soft words, you began to cry even harder. Even as he assured you that you didn’t piss on him, you couldn’t help the tears of exhaustion that kept spilling over your cheeks.

“Are you okay baby?” he asked, guilt eating at his stomach as your crying didn’t cease.

Did he go too hard? Was it too much? Fuck! He couldn’t lose you, what if you didn’t like it? What if you left him?”

“F-felt so good ‘Tsumu….” you cried, finally returning his embrace as you wiped your tears against his defined chest, your soft body squishing against his athletic one as the hand rubbing your back stilled.

“Why are you crying then baby?” he asked gently, his fingers hooking under your chin as you sniffled.

“I dunno…” you whimpered, your eyes glossily staring back up at your boyfriend. Your body was completely blissed out, you could nothing but cry.

“Ok Baby… let’s get you cleaned up,” Atsumu whispered, gently lifting you off of the counter and guiding you to the shower so he could clean you up.

As he washed your plush body, he couldn’t help but admire his work. Every part of you looked absolutely fucked out and he quickly decided that he would die for you as you yawned, leaning yourself against him.

He kept whispering to you about how good you felt, how good you were for him, how he didn’t deserve you. Your body glowed with the soft compliments, a complete opposite of how he’d acted as he fucked you past over-stimulation.

After he finished washing you, he kissed you deeply, his strong arms wrapping around your body.

“Can you walk Baby?” he asked, softly wrapping a fluffy towel around your naked body.

You shook your head, sticking your bottom lip out in a pout.

“That’s okay..” he chuckled, his thumb running over your cheeks as he stared at you lovingly. “I’ll carry you wherever you want to go okay?”

You nodded, willing yourself not to start crying again at his soft words. You wrapped your arms around his neck, jumping a little to help him hoist you as you wrapped your legs around his waist.

He walked you into the room, resting you in the bed and pulling the comforter up around you before snuggling into the other side, his body automatically coming up to spoon yours.

“I love you, Princess,” he whispered adoringly, his fingers brushing against your bruised skin.

“Mmmm…love you too..” you hummed, your body so exhausted that you quickly started snoring, making Atsumu grin.

He thought about how lucky he was to have you. He could safely say that he was completely satisfied with how loud you’d been for him, with how nicely you’d let him claim you.

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

“Fuck…” Bokuto whispered, his back was still pressed against the shower wall. His hand was still wrapped around his softening cock as he stared at the cum washing down the drain.

All he’d wanted to do was grab a quick shower. He never expected what had happened.

His eyes closed as he willed himself not to get hard again as he recalled how your moans sounded through the wall as you cried for Atsumu’s cock.

He felt ashamed for the reaction he’d had to it. Felt ashamed of how hard his cock had gotten. Most of all, he was ashamed that he’d stood there and fucked his fist to the sound of you screaming for your boyfriend.

He sighed, getting out of the shower and toweling off, trying desperately to push the memories of those noises out of his head.

Suddenly his phone buzzed.

‘Hope you liked the show ;)’ - Miya Atsumu

He scowled down at his phone before throwing it back onto the floor. He flopped down into his bed.

He could still hear your voice,

‘Fuck ‘Tsumu! M cumming!.....fuuucckk….’

Yep. He was going to be hard for the next year.

How was he ever going to look you in the face again?

#haikyuu smut #haikyuu x chubby reader #haikyuuxreader #haikyuu 18+#atsumu x reader #atsumu x y/n #miya atsumu #post timeskip

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lovely-ateez · 3 years

Text

I’ll Be Home Soon~

ꕥPosted: 5/16/21

ꕥGenre: Fluff

ꕥPairing: Fem!Reader x Idol!Mingi

ꕥWord Count: 1.8k

ꕥWarnings: An overwhelming heaping of fluff

ꕥTag List: @nevieatiny @bobateastay

ꕥA/N: I know this is short but I wanted to write at least a little something for Mingi’s return. I’m just so proud of him and can’t wait to see him again ><

I sat on the couch as stiff as a board. At any minute my boyfriend would return home after being away for months. We kept in contact while he was gone, of course, but it wasn’t the same as seeing each other in person. Even after all this time, I still wasn’t accustomed to the cold bed or the lack of sticky notes he would leave me throughout the day, all saying some variation of I love you or good morning or you look beautiful today. It was always something simple, but they became so meaningful to me. Waking up without his warm smile never got easier, and every moment he was gone I thought of him. Our house wasn’t a home with only me.

I heard the faint jingling of keys and I scrambled to the door, about falling over in the process. The door opened to reveal my tall, lanky boyfriend. He was dressed casually, wearing a large white sweatshirt over black baggy pants. His brown hair was down, slightly covering his eyes. He wasn’t dressed up or wearing anything special, but in that moment he looked more handsome to me than he ever had before. It couldn’t have been more than a few seconds since I laid my eyes upon him and my heart was already beating as rapidly as the first time I met him.

He smiled at me and opened his arms wide to embrace me in a tight hug. I jumped in his arms without thinking and felt tears beginning to run down my face.

“I can’t believe you’re home. I missed you so much.” I nuzzled into his warm chest.

His voice was deep and warm, enveloping me ten times over. “I’m home, baby. I’m home.”

We held each other tight, basking in the feeling of the other after being separated. It felt new, in some ways, but completely and totally familiar at the same time.

“I’m sorry I was gone for so long.” His voice was soft, as if he thought I might blame him.

I pulled back from his embrace, making eye contact. “Song Mingi don’t you dare apologize! Health always comes first and I’m so proud of you for recognizing that you needed a break.”

He gave a shy smile that I happily returned. Noticing the luggage that he was carrying, I picked up a few bags and ushered him in, setting the bags down once we were inside. He looked around our living room, smiling at its setup. On the main table I had placed his favorite snacks, a few presents, and an overwhelming number of envelopes.

Mingi quirked a brow and chuckled, obviously thankful but a bit confused, “What are the envelopes for and why are there so many?”

I looked to the ground,feeling shy. “Every week that you were gone I wrote you a letter. I know we facetimed and everything but I thought it might be more personal through a letter. I tried to send them to you but your manager told me to keep them instead-”

Mingi set his luggage on the floor and once more hugged me, this time lifting me in the air and placing kisses all over my face. “You didn’t have to do this, babe.”

“Oh I know, but I wanted to. It’s the least you deserve.”

His eyes watered at my words and I gently cupped his face. “You deserve the world, my love.”

He set me back down and gave me a playful shove, “Stop that I’m gonna cry.”

I pouted, “I’m sorry I don’t mean to make you cry. I just love you so much.”

“I love you too, baby.”

I stood on my toes to press a kiss to his lips, which he returned. I felt him smile against my lips and the gesture made butterflies stir within me.

"So what do you wanna do, babe? We can stay here and watch a movie and relax if you want or-”

He laughed, “Honestly? I kinda want to go to the zoo. I don’t really know why, but I haven’t been in awhile and it just sounds fun.”

“Right now?”

“Hell yeah.”

I smiled at his childlike answer, expecting nothing less from my puppy-like boyfriend, “Alright, let’s go then! Oh-”

I felt a ball of fluff run past my ankles and up to Mingi. Both of us looked down to see our cat, Mao. Mingi smiled and picked her up, pleased to find her purring while he pet her.

“I missed you, too. Silly cat.”

“She’s been sleeping on your side of the bed since you left, so you’re probably gonna have to kick her out tonight.”

His eyes widened, “You replaced me?”

“No! I could never! She just decided to keep me company.”

A tight smile formed on Mingi’s face, “Sure, sure.”

I scoffed, “Are we going to the zoo or not?”

“Of course!” He set Mao down before moving his luggage into our bedroom. I picked up my purse and car keys as I saw him return to the living room and gave him another smile. We quickly said our goodbyes to Mao and locked the door, excited to spend more time with each other.

“So what’s your favorite zoo animal, Mingi?” I asked as we walked through the zoo with our fingers intertwined.

His eyebrows furrowed in thought, “I kinda like sun bears. Have you seen the memes about those things? How they look-”

“Like a person in a bear costume?” I finished his sentence and he giggled, nodding at me.

“I think they have those here, actually. We might have to find a map but I’m sure they’re around here somewhere.”

After asking around and wandering for half an hour, we finally found the sun bear enclosure...only to be met with empty land.

“Damn, are they really not here?” Mingi asked, looking dejected, “I thought they’d have at least one.”

Before I could reply a little girl ran up to the exhibit in front of us, her brown pigtails swaying with her quick movements. She pressed her small fingers to the glass, squinting to see any signs of the sun bears. Her bottom lip stuck out when all she saw was an empty exhibit and my heart lurched for the poor girl. Mingi and I watched as an attractive couple ran from the same direction as the little girl, their movements frantic until they saw her tiny figure.

“Migyung you can’t just run off like that, sweetheart.” The mother lightly scolded, sounding more concerned than angry.

The little girl turned around at the sound of her mom’s voice and frowned. “I’m sorry, mama. I just wanted to see the funny bears!”

The father crouched down to reach her height, “I know, just tell us next time, okay?”

Migyung nodded at her father’s words.

“And would you look at that?” The man smiled and pointed behind her, “Look who’s coming over to see you.”

The girl turned around and spotted a sun bear walking towards her. She let out a gasp, once more pressing her fingers to the glass. Her eyes filled with stars as she looked at the bear.

She laughed with excitement and bounced on her toes, “Daddy, mommy, look at him! He’s so fat!”

“We see him, sweetheart.” The father replied with a smile, even though the girl couldn’t see it. He looked over to his wife and placed an arm around her, kissing her cheek as they looked at their daughter fondly.

Mingi squeezed my hand, his attention no longer on the sun bear. He turned to me with love-filled eyes and whispered, “That’s gonna be us one day, you know?”

I bit my lip and felt warmth spread through my body. We’d talked about our future before, how we wanted kids and planned on getting married, but watching the scene before us and seeing the sincerity in his eyes, it made my heart feel like exploding.

“I’d really like that.”

We stood there for a bit longer before leaving to look at the other animals. The red pandas, in particular, caught Mingi’s attention, and I found myself quite fond of the baby rhinos, but we both agreed that the sun bear was our favorite.

Neither of us were entirely sure how we both ended up covered in flour on the floor of our kitchen, only that once the sun had began to set we left the zoo and came home with empty stomachs, then deciding to make breakfast food for dinner. Now we were both in fits of giggles as we struggled to sit upright, Mao’s strange looks at us somehow making the event even funnier.

“Maybe this wasn’t the best idea,” I laughed.

“I think this was a great idea,” Mingi said with a smile before grabbing a handful of flour and throwing it at me.

“Hey! You’re gonna pay for that!”

He stood and grabbed the bag of flour, raising a brow in challenge, “Oh yeah? Come and get me, babe.”

Against my better judgement I stood and ran towards him, throwing my body onto his and tackling him to the floor. As our bodies collided, the bag of flour flew out of his hands and I crawled over to the bag only to feel Mingi’s arms wrap around my legs and drag me back towards him.

“Noo! I’m so close!” I giggled, the bag barely a foot away.

“Not anymore, you aren’t.” He pulled me into his lap and wrapped his arms around me tight, preventing me from escape, “What are you gonna do now, huh?”

I tilted my head with a smile, “I’ll probably flirt with my captor until he falls for me and then I’ll run away with the flour.”

“Is that so?”

“It is.”

“Well, what if he’s already in love with you but won’t let you go?” Mingi shifted our bodies to where I was laying with my back on the floor, his own body hovering over mine but still very much keeping me in place, “What if he’s gonna keep you here with him? What do you think about that?”

My breath hitched as he looked down at me, his face slowly inching closer to mine. He had it too easy, really, with how quickly he could fluster me.

“I think you’re far too handsome for your own good.” I said barely louder than a whisper.

He let out a chuckle before kissing me, our lips moving in time with the other’s. My hands found his hair and I pulled him closer to me, my hunger long forgotten.

As I felt Mingi’s body against mine, I finally felt whole. It was hell, going without seeing him for so many months, but because of moments like these, I knew I’d gladly wait a hundred more if it meant I could just have one day with him.

#ateez #atzinc #kpop #imagines #ateez au #ateez fluff #ateez imagines #fluff #kpop fluff #welcome back mingi #mingi imagines #song mingi #mingi fluff #mingi ateez

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mochikeiji · 4 years

Text

Kinktober Day 3: Trousers A Day

↠ Pairing: Kenma Kozume x Reader

↠ Warning: SMUT! Edging, Fem dom, broken orgasm.

↬ Word Count: 2.1k

⇢ Day 3: Bulge Touching

"How was work, Kenma?"

He always looked mouthwatering whenever he wore his formal attire for his job. There are days wherein he gets away with the coding of his clothing; he'd often wear baggy hoodies and comfortable pants that you'd rarely recognize him as a CEO or someone who owns a huge company that makes a living.

But with Kuroo having the similar working station as he is, like in high school and their childhood days, he would have to drag him and forcefully let him change into a decent attire for once during an important meeting.

"He was a pain in the ass as always."

Work always meant he would bump into Kuroo occasionally. It was starting to feel like the world literally doesn't want Kuroo out of his back even if they had their own domestic lives. But it still touched you, how their bond was still stronger than mist high school buddies were.

"I meant work babe, not Kuroo."

"Work is tiring, Kuroo is tiring, therefore, it's still work."

Stifling your laughter was difficult as the way Kenma delivers such a nonchalant humor. He still has that lazy like expression written all over his face and his soft, bored toned voice, which makes it funnier to take him seriously sometimes.

Even though work was done and he had finally came back to his safe domain, Kenma has this habit of not changing into his comfortable clothes until he was ready to sleep, even if it meant wearing his white sleeves and tight, black pants, at least he was seated at the usual spot of his couch and had his games. That was how lazy yet relatable thing you had with Kenma.

You were seated on the floor for the past hour while waiting for him. Papers and your laptop on display as you tried to organize every document and notes you've done for the past months and his own so they weren't sprawled all over his working table. Kenma takes his eyes off of his game for a second, only for him to lay a palm on your forehead and pushed back the hairs that were hiding it and places a small kiss with a small murmur of, "Thanks."

Your heart squeezed. It was so uncharacteristic of him yet the way his voice went into a softer, cooing like tone, you were finished. Kenma had grown out of his shell throughout the years, and you were honored to have his entire vulnerable side showered upon you. He was the least affectionate person you've known, but now he had his moments where you would be randomly pulled onto his lap or close to his body just to hold you or if he was in he mood, you know what that is.

Going back to his game, you smiled as his eyes strained with concentration on the screen. His hair had gotten longer, the hair no longer the blonde shade you used to tease him as a tabby cat. Despite Kenma keeping up with his games, he never left his priorities and responsibilities down. It was true that you were happy to see him enjoy some time for himself like today. You didn't want to see him hunched on his desk without a proper meal or care for himself like what he told you about his friend, Akaashi. The man really needed to get off his laptop.

Moments like these were rare. When was the last time you touched him? More so, why were you suddenly thinking like this? Would you admit out loud that the way he was seated with his legs spread out with those tight pants made you subconsciously bite your lip? Of course not.

It had been bothering you ever since you saw him dress like this since morning. His pants literally portray his um— friend. Over the years he has grown some weight. His thighs were no longer the skinny ones you feared would break if you sat on him. It was decent enough to look like they were toned after the years of maintaining his volleyball career.

Cursed yet blessed pants of his to showcase you a teasing sight of his bulge.

Today was the last day of his work, he had two days off since his final offer was settled to his clients. Kuroo would have to deal with them after letting Kenma do his part. You have him for the entire hour as to the following days, it wouldn't hurt to try to get him to relax, right?

Eyes in sheer focus to the graphic displayed on his little screen of the device he was holding, his attention was away from your sneaky movements. All papers according to your genre and his were stacked aside where it wouldn't be moved or get kicked if ever, and your laptop now closed, placed next to them on the floor. Kenma didn't even notice the fact that you were now closer to his legs than before, but still carried on his game.

Biting your lips in anticipation, your hands twitched on your lap, wanting to grab each side of his thigh and spread him wide and watch the thing on his middle pulsate in crave of your touch. Letting out a small cough to escape away the lewd images in your mind, from the corner of your eye Kenma seemed to raise a brow a bit at the sound since it almost seemed like you were hiding a moan. You just waved it off with a smile, holding your phone up pretending to be scrolling through your timeline filled with erotic anime photos, to which he has now accepted and grew used to.

Kenma sighs a little when it sounded like his character died once more and straightens his back a bit on the couch; it meant he was starting to get serious. But when he does so, his legs automatically widened a bit more for comfort, and enough for you to fit in between them. It wasn't as embarrassing as it was for you before to initiate a heated moment with him, both of you were switches. Either he tops one time or you do, depending on the mood. And you bet as hell Kenma loved it when you take the lead at times.

So when you settled yourself in between his lap, he thought you were just going to grab the remote beside him when you turned around. A groan was heard in your living room emitting from him, he didn't bother to take his eyes off of his screen when he felt your small, warm palms rubbing his inner thigh with your fingers pressing in for a massage.

Giggling, you gave each clothed skin a lingering kiss. His legs giving out as if they were jelly to your touch, letting you push them apart even with a little bit of force. You let out a small, audible gasp at his member, violently twitching inside his pants with small movements, restrained inside the tightness.

Experimenting a bit more, you raised your index finger up to point up to his bulge and traced in circular motions to a spot it seemed like the tip was located. Kenma inhaled shakily, veiny hands gripping on the controllers of his game at the tingling feeling of your finger. It was a weird fascination of yours recently, it wasn't the first time you've seen his cock. It just so happens that you saw this one sex scene at a particular movie wherein the male was getting edged on just by touching his bulge. Each little movement of the sensitive skin down there seemed to give out so many effect, and you wanted to see that happen to Kenma rather than being fucked so soon.

Today was about him anyways.

Your eyes never left the center of his pants as your finger continued to stroke up and down. The little twitches making you lick your lips and your thighs clench at the feeling of it inside you many times. When his member was getting harder by the second passes, you let out a soft, wanton moan. The precum from his cock leaking from the fabric as your finger smeared around the tip messily.

Kenma was already panting heavily but silently, thanks to his long hair, you couldn't see his feline eyes already with dilated pupils and his attention all on you. Just like him, you resembled to a cat. Such a sneaky animal, yet so adorably needy. His breath felt like it was being sucked out of him when you placed a kiss on the wet spot of his pants and replaced your finger with your entire palm to rub and stroke him through the article of clothing.

"Kitten.."

He wasn't very vocal even at the utmost of arousal, but he maintained the little pet name he has for you. A calling sign from him wanting more and silently pleading. Your heart was thumping loud at the call of your name. It meant you were doing something right. It meant he was getting into it and soon fall to his edge.

Using all of your fingers, you did a small, pinching like motion with all of your fingers. It was suppose to tickle, but Kenma only groaned loudly and threw his head back. His game counsel placed aside with the sound of his character dying once more with the volume of his moans increasing.

His hips slightly jolting up every time you'd change your movements on his clothed tip. With little strength, he grabs a hold of your wrist and firmly placed your hand on his bulge. You could've sworn there was a small whine that escaped his lips followed by a small, "Please." as he ruts himself on your hand. Sinful and unforgiving. Addictive with the control you had on him, yet craving for your own relief down to your aching cunt.

"Not yet."

He swore he was going to wipe that proud smirk of yours off of your face as you gave him a squeeze. Caught by surprise he practically yells out one moan and pants with your continuous squeezing. The trousers he wore were almost getting soaked by his own arousal staining them along with his boxers. Judging by the amount of wetness flowing, he was getting close. And who knew he would get off easily just by this?

Quickly unzipping his zipper, you finally pulled down his black trousers, but left his boxers on to see the mess you've made on his. He couldn't even bear to look you in the eyes, he felt like if he did, he would cum on the spot. But he dared to, only to see you look at him with so much want and need as you placed a kiss on the wet tip spot and taking it in your mouth.

"Fuck—"

A hand went flying to your head to push it back, a mark appeared on his forehead in irritation when you only giggled and pulled away. Cursing and whining, you proceeded to repeat your actions earlier. His length felt thick around your hand when you stroked him. Long along with the delicious feeling of the veins surrounding it, you had to refrain yourself from faltering and touching yourself.

His balls were neglected, so with your other hand, you started giving it the wanted attention and massage it needed from aching a while ago. Kenma's usual calm and composed features now scrunched up and sweating. As if he was concentrating on the feeling of cumming immediately because his head was beginning to spin from sexual frustration.

"Please, kitten. Hah— I'm close."

Grinning, you used your thumb to rub once again on his tip. Kenma's eyes screwed shut with hips meeting with your touch. Thighs quivering at the rush of adrenaline and upcoming burst of ecstasy coming.

But you pulled away.

His whine came out like a cat in heat. His tip only letting out small spurts of cum because of the stimulation coming to an end. Instead, pulsates painfully and twitches in demand of being freed from his soaking boxers.

As we all know, Kenma wasn't one to get into things easily. Everything was either a drag or a pain in the neck for him. His angry eyes told a different story as they burned holes into yours, gulping in both fear and anticipation as exhales out a hot breath. His head still spinning, but nothing could match his now angry cock and desire to make you get a taste of your own medicine as he tugs on your hair.

Knowing they meant one thing in command;

Strip.

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu imagine #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenario #haikyuu oneshot #haikyuu oneshots #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu smut #kenma x you #kenma x reader #kenma x y/n #kenma smut #kenma fluff #kenma scenarios #kenma kozume #haikyuu kenma kozume #haikyuu kinktober 2020 #haikyuu kinktober

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bonniebird · 3 years

Text

Klaus’ True Love (Part Two)

Klaus Mikaelson x Immortal!Fem!Reader

Summary: A thousand years ago Klaus lost her. The only girl he ever truly loved but now he's found her again, he's not letting her go without answers.

Part One

Part Three

Part Four

“So you found the spell, what do you want from me?” Klaus asked furiously. He’d been called to the boarding house, pulled away from his watch over you inspecting his art, to deal with inferior creatures that seemed unable to function without him.

“Bonnie isn’t powerful enough to use the spell.” Elena said defensively, stepping in front of Bonnie when Klaus bared his fangs at her.

“Well I’ll have someone find you a stronger witch.” He snapped before vanishing leaving them to wonder where he was keeping you.

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

“You look different now.” Klaus smiled when you jumped and turned away from the painting in front of you.

“I don’t want this spell lifted, I don’t want to lose Elena and Jer… Aunt Judith.” Your fingers reached out to brush the paint and he gently caught your hand.

“You never could keep those hands to yourself.” You looked up at him as he swallowed and twisted his fingers into yours, before you got uncomfortable enough to pull away, he dropped your hand and hurried over to the corner of the room.

“I managed to save your flower for you… when we first settled in Fell’s church you said you’d never seen something that could rival the beauty of the sun setting over the sea.” He pulled back the panel that had stood against one wall, revealing a large pot of dirt with the same flowers that grew around your window pane at home,

“Aunt Judith thinks it’s odd the flower seems to grow just for me.” You muttered, forgetting to fill in the vampire on what it was you meant but he seemed more engrossed in watching you finger the delicate purple petals.

“I named it after you, it has become very popular.” He smiled at you and moved away, leaving you with the plant.

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

“Thank you.” you whispered. Despite the kidnapping and threats against your siblings Klaus seemed… oddly indifferent to upsetting you, unlike Damon who almost tore your throat out the first time you met.

“A small gesture for a love I lost.” He muttered. You ran your fingers across one of the many sculptures and pulled your hand back, he was right, you learnt by touch and the desire to hold everything you saw was almost a hidden need.

“How did I get like this, clearly what you have told me is true enough for my sister and her brood of vampires to believe you.” You ask, settling down on the end of your bed as you waited for his answer.

“It is a very long story (Y/N) one that I will not know all of until you remember yourself.” He hesitated for a moment before beginning to speak.

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

“What have you done, she had no part of this… have you become so blinded by your need for power that innocent people must die?” Klaus hissed at his father hysterically as you didn’t resurface from the lake beneath him.

“You are a savage animal, what I did was mercy compared to a life with you.” Mikael spat back. He didn’t notice the flower you’d dropped being crushed beneath his boot but the desperate hybrid’s fingers plucked it from the ground and cradled it in his hands.

“Father, how could you do it?” Rebekah yelled bravely as she tore through the woods, following the sounds of her brother’s despair. He raised a hand to slap her but Elijah appeared just in time to take the blow.

“I will not be questioned by my own children.” He hissed, storming away, leaving the siblings to comfort one another.

Your gasp for air was sad and desperate, drawing the attention of the Mikaelson patriarch. He watched you pull yourself from the lake, sitting for a moment to take stock of what happened to you, before making his presence known.

“I never thought we ourselves could create another.” His ramblings made no sense to you as he held your chin up so he could look at your face closely.

“What have you done to me?” You sobbed. He frowned before lifting you to your feet by your arm.

“You must eat; do not worry I will find a witch to keep you safe from my wife’s bastard.” His voice attempted to be soft and comforting but made your skin crawl. You didn’t dare cry out for help, assuming he would have killed Niklaus for attacking him and showing such defiance.

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

“So he used compulsion to keep me under his control, why didn’t it wear off when he died?” You asked. Before you could panic Klaus was on his feet gently placing his hands on your shoulder.

“The witches, he forced the Gilbert’s, Lockwood’s and Bennet’s to protect you and the tradition was passed down, I have no doubt your Aunt knows something of your secret but hasn’t the heart to say anything… admittedly from me but not only did that guarantee your obedience, it erased any oddity of your ageing.” He took his hands away as you shook your head and pushed his arms.

“Aging oddity, I remember my birthdays and Elena’s birth… we fought over who could hold Jeremy first, my mother told me off on my sixth birthday for pushing Elena off a chair.” You yell at him frantically, pacing the room. He reached to comfort you but you shoved him away as tears fell down your cheeks.

“They are not real memory’s, the power in the land here keeps everyone human from seeing the truth.” You let Klaus wrap you in his arms as your legs gave out underneath you.

“But… No, I… you’re not taking those memories from me by undoing that spell.” You say firmly pounding your fists against the vampire’s chest.

“They will still remain (Y/N), if they didn’t everyone in Fell’s Church would know that you haven’t aged for a thousand years… all it will mean is, you will remember me and your real parents.” His voice cracked a little as he felt you give into the longing to rest yourself against him.

“But what if they don’t?” You whispered. He didn’t reply as he kissed your forehead and sat you back on the end of your bed.

“I will find a witch powerful enough to make sure they do.” He beckoned you to follow him and led you to a car with blacked out windows, indicating for the man in the front to take you wherever you wanted to go and shut the door without another word to you.

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

“Elena!” You ran up the Boarding house drive, wrapping your arms around your sister and began sobbing into her shoulder.

“Listen to me even if you forget… we forget, we love you, when Mom and Dad died you were with us and you lost them to and everything with Jer… you’ll always be our sister.” You smiled and wiped the tears from her cheeks before embracing Bonnie.

“I’m sorry if I’d have known what Grams was doing…” You hugged your best friend and smiled.

“You always do what’s right Bonnie; you can’t fix something you don’t know is broken.” She grinned at you.

“Well this is all very touching lady’s but I have to prepare my home for an invasion of narcissistic immortals so if we could move it inside.” Damon snapped from behind you. you shared a silent smile with Stefan as you fell in step with him.

Three hours later Klaus and two other vampires appeared in the doorway dragging a woman they claimed to be causing trouble for several vampires. You reluctantly agreed to sit where they told you and Bonnie began hovering over the witch’s shoulder to make sure she was doing the spell correctly.

She began chanting something over and over, the room seemed to heave and shrink around you until it vanished entirely and there was just a plain door with a bolt in front of you. without hesitation you opened the door and let what was behind it wash over you.

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

“(Y/N) …. Oh god please be ok, please… don’t leave us.” Elena’s tears felt like cold droplets of ice on your skin and for a moment you couldn’t move.

“Drink this.” The blond woman that Klaus had come with was kneeling on the other side of you, holding a slightly warm baggie of blood.

“Rebekah.” You muttered, taking the bag and tearing it open drinking whatever you hadn’t split.

“Drink the witch, she’s no use for anything else.” Damon muttered when your hungry gaze fixed on your sister.

“What happened to her?” You asked as Rebekah helped you away from Elena and over to the now dead witch.

“Some spells kill us if we’re too weak.” Bonnie’s voice was wavering, no doubt the whole dead witch and vampire subject was hitting her a little harder than she liked to let on.

“Well as long as she’s dead and it stops me from devouring you all.” You muttered. You went to sink your new fangs into her neck only to have Klaus stop you.

“You drink from her like that we’ll have a town with no blood supply.” He stepped between you and the witch, sinking his teeth into her neck, before pulling away and indicating for you to feed from the marks he’d left.

Your gaze on Klaus lasted longer than needed and it wasn’t until he sat next to the witch and pulled you into his lap that you noticed everyone else had moved to the next room. His lips found yours in a kiss that held a deep longing and need that you felt your heart would explode if it lasted much longer.

“I hope you know I will never be without you again.” He whispered, brushing tendrils of hair from your face as he looked up at you. you placed a gentle kiss on his lips, smiling to yourself when he moaned and curled his hands into the chair to stop himself from touching you.

“I feel horrible.” You muttered, ruining the moment when your fangs extended and refused to vanish again.

“You haven’t eaten properly for a long time; magic supplementing is a form of witchly torture so you’re going to be starving.” He shifted so you could feed without leaving his embrace and without much prompting you sank your teeth into the witch’s neck.

He moved your hair out of his way and had to sink his fangs into his lip to stop himself from moaning at the sight of you feeding, feeling the rush of power the blood was giving you.

#klaus mikaelson x reader #klaus mikaelson #the originals #bonniebird

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rafaelblackbird15 · 3 years

Text

Teen Wolf Fic Recs Part 1: Steter

These took me awhile to put together, so please enjoy them. And if there's a problem with any of the links, (as this is my first time making a fic rec) just comment and I'll fix it.

These are Steter, Stiles Stilinski/Peter Hale fanfictions. Just skim through them and give them a try at your own will, I really enjoyed these.

Read the tags on the actual fics for appropriate reading.

And check out my other Sterek fic recs [Part 3] and [Part 4] and my Steter fic recs [Part 2]

********

heartbeat (hide your lies) by wolfscrow on Archive of Our Own

Words: 7323

Chapters: 2/?

Summary:

What he doesn’t expect, stupidly he should add, is the fucking werewolf that bit Scott.

Stiles runs into a clearing when a hush falls through the forest, spooking him into stopping just at the edge of it where the werewolf stands on the other side. He’s gigantic on two legs, feet twisted like an actual animal's are. And the arms hang on both sides brush the ground with their length, claws thick and black like Stiles remembers. His snout is long and formed into a loose snarl, eyes crimson bright and pupils narrowed into pinpricks.

Stiles stops breathing at the sight, goosebumps rattling up his skin and eyes catching on the blood that drips down the beast's fingers. He doesn’t see how this thing could be human at any time, so monstrous and terrifying as it is.

**********

don't tell me you wouldn't like this (watch this with me) by ladywinter on Archive of Our Own

Words: 845

Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

So Saucery was talking about Peter/Stiles in her tumblr and I'd mentioned wanting, in ep 11 or 12, for them to interact while Derek was watching and which caused her to mutter endearments to which I started to comment... and then it got out of hand.

I'm sorry, but I'm not sorry.

*********

Stumbled Into Faith by orphan_account on Archive of Our Own

Words: 2315

Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

The first time Peter Hale offered Stiles the bite, he declined.

The second time, he didn’t. But he didn’t exactly consent, either.

*********

a savage such as i by ahab2692 on Archive of Our Own

Words: 6645

Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

“So what, are you taking me out to the woods to whack me? Is this the part of the movie where Al Pacino stares at the baby in the church while all of the henchman go out to slaughter his enemies? Because I kinda don’t want to die, and I definitely don’t want to be in pain. I’m not really a pain person. Well, okay, there was that one website that- No. Never mind. Shutting up now.”

*********

you know what this road is paved with by darthjamtart on Archive of Our Own

Words: 902

Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

Peter's grip is bruise-tight around Stiles' wrist, reeling him in when he tries to jerk away.

[alternate scene from the season 1 finale]

********

Little Monster by covarla on Archive of Our Own

Words: 13108

Chapters: 3/?

Summary:

“I hate to bother you with this,” Scott began hesitantly. Stiles felt his stomach drop. Those words never meant good things. “There’s been some murders.”

There was the crunch of gravel behind him and Stiles turned. “Hold that thought one sec,” Stiles said as the redcap he’d been tracking lunged at him.

*********

Drabbles & Ficlets series by asarcasticwitch on Archive of Our Own

Works: 5

Complete: No

Description:

A place for all of my fics with five hundred words or less.

All works are completely unrelated, and none will be continued or expanded upon.

*********

Too Many War Wounds, But Not Enough Wars by neglectedtuesday on Archive of Our Own

Words: 26077

Chapters: 1/1

Part 1 of the Irresistible series

Summary:

The Nematon is dying. The once bountiful tree is withering, a husk of it’s former glory. It’s skeletal, shrunken and wilted and no one knows how to fix it. It’s supposed to be the height of summer but you wouldn’t know it. The Nematon isn’t the only tree that’s falling apart. Peter folds his arms. His eyes narrow as Jennifer, the emissary from Kali’s pack, tries to communicate with the sentient tree. She’s waving her arms around and chanting but so far all she’s managed to do is look like a complete imbecile. She’s the sixth emissary in as many months and still the tree decays.

*********

Watch My Enemies Get Destroyed by fur_claws_and_eyeballs on Archive of Our Own

Words: 5216

Chapters: 1/1

Part 1 of the Watch My Enemies Get Destroyed series

Summary:

He looks exactly as Peter had seen him last. Except everything is all wrong, the clothes too baggy on his thin frame, face gaunt and drawn in grief. Unnaturally bright eyes rimmed in black glare against pale skin. There is a fiery determination there, but all warmth is gone from his expression. He holds himself with equal parts stiff exhaustion and predatory grace. Peter is enthralled...and filled with trepidation.

“Stiles?”

***********

What Goes Around by KouriArashi on Archive of Our Own

Words: 71451

Chapters: 16/16

Summary:

“Well,” Stiles says, “if they’re going to hunt werewolves, I’m going to hunt them.”

It’s a ridiculous statement from a ten-year-old, but he’s obviously one hundred percent sincere. For the first time since the fire, Peter feels life stir inside him, feels purpose. It’s kismet, clearly. He’ll never meet the child he would have had with Olivia. Instead he’s met this boy, this brilliant, determined, cynical child with a world of potential.

Peter kneels down in front of him so they’re at eye level. “How do you feel about doing that together?”

**********

(baby) maybe that matters more by lavenderlotion on Archive of Our Own

Words: 16610

Chapters: 4/10

Summary:

“Well, well, well,” drawls a familiar voice that Stiles hadn’t even considered he might ever hear again. “The token pack human, left all alone?”

This is my personal favourite, I think it's beautiful and I always thought about this scenario myself. So this is, just wonderful.

*********

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literallykenmaandshoyo · 3 years

Text

Work Can Wait |i.m|

Pairing: ProHero!Deku x Female!Reader

Summary: Deku tends to take too much work in all at once and thinks that he has to finish it all that night or else he’s a failure. However, thanks to his lovely s/o, he manages to finally put his mind at ease and get some much needed rest while s/o lays in his (beefy and beautiful) arms. :,)

Warnings: No warnings, just fluff :) Deku works too hard so reader has to keep him in line.

A/N: First post! Yay! I really hope you deku simps enjoy this one (Considering as I’m one myself 0.0) and feel free to request anything!

~mod Shoyo <3

Being in a relationship with Izuku was by far the best decision Y/N had made on her own. He respected her and adored her almost as much as she did him. She liked to joke that the cosmos aligned for them the moment they caught feelings for each other. It was always her saying something about them being soulmates and Izuku thought it was adorable.

That being said, Y/N could read Deku like a book. She figured out what all of his small mannerisms meant and what he was trying to tell her with the facial expression he was making. Obviously, he could do the same to her, but for some reason Y/N found herself reading him more than he read her. Tonight was one of those nights.

Y/N was in the living room browsing through Netflix for a new anime to watch, huffing when she looked down at her phone to see what time it was. Normally Deku was on the couch with her by now helping her decide on what to watch, even though nine times out of ten he wanted to watch All Might videos. She craned her neck to look behind her and immediately noticed that the light in his office was still on. He was still working even though he told her he would be done in five minutes. Which was forty minutes ago.

“Damn it Izuku,” Y/N huffed, standing to her feet to head towards his room.

The closer she got to the room, the clearer the sound of his fingers typing away on his keyboard became to her. She couldn’t help but press her ear up to the door for a better listen, hearing his silken sighs travel through the wood. She sighed and let his fingers play out a little longer before lightly tapping her knuckles against the door.

“Come in,”

She turned the doorknob to see her boyfriend sitting in a chair, lightly bobbing his head to the beat of a song she didn’t know at all while he worked. Y/N couldn’t help but smile at how adorable he looked. His headphones were hanging around his neck, grey sweatpants, and the oversized black t-shirt she’d bought him two days ago covering his body. She never knew why he wore such baggy clothing when he had such a great figure, but she always figured that he just loved the style and how comfy it was.

“Izu-baby, I thought you said you were done for the night,” Y/N nagged lightly. “I’ve been waiting for you in the living room this whole time,”

Midoriya looked up at her with the most innocent look she’d ever seen in her life. Not even with all of the small children she’s encountered had she ever seen something so child-like and light-hearted. She now understood why some parents had trouble saying no to their children. If they looked like he did right now, Y/N would most likely raise the most spoiled child in the entire world.

“I-I know baby, and I’m sorry, but I finally got the reports from the police back and I thought I could just finish it up and add it into my files!” he pleaded.

Y/N sighed and turned to look at his screen. Her eyes got lost in the jumble of words on the screen and she found herself having some trouble with making any sense of what the hell he had been typing. Although everything looked neat and organized, she couldn’t help but notice how panicked and rushed everything seemed to feel as she read through his summary. He may have an unhealthy obsession with making perfection, but she couldn’t help but appreciate his work ethic. He loved his job more than anyone, and who was she to blame him?

“You know, despite leaving me high and dry out there, you’re good at what you do,” Y/N giggled, her orbs getting lost into his emerald ones. “Really, really good.”

He smiled widely, his eyes crinkling up. He fell back in his chair, slouching with a sigh as he looked up at the ceiling.

“I was afraid you’d have yelled at me by now,” He admitted earnestly.

“Oh believe me, I have some words that I’d like to share with you. But I understand that you’re incredibly busy,” Y/N giggled.

He sat up straighter in his chair and grabbed her cheeks in his palms, his scarred fingers touching her as if she was fine china. He brought her closer to his face and pressed his lips against hers gently. He smiled against her skin and pulled away, pulling her into his lap. Y/N knew what he was doing.

“Izuku Midoriya,” She stated firmly. “You’ve worked on this long enough, it’s time to take a break. You’re going to hurt your eyes because you’re looking at the screen for too long,”

She caught him. He chuckled and shook his head, wondering how she managed to catch him in his little acts every single time. He was, in fact, trying to get her to watch him do his job so he could keep working and keep her company at the same time.

She turned around so she was face to face with him, her arms wrapping around his neck loosely. Her eyes met his and she could see the milky way in his orbs. She smiled and pressed her forehead against his.

“You have time honey,” She whispered, shutting her eyelids. “You don’t have to finish it all tonight,”

He looked at her shut eyelids, getting lost in her eyelashes. She was right. With quarantine in effect, he practically had all the time in the world. He’d begged for more time nearly every day before the pandemic hit, but now that he’d received it, he was finding it hard to progressively work through something day by day. It needed to get finished the night he thought of it or he’d lose his mind.

“But can I just finish this last summary?” He pleaded, hoping that she’d give in and grant him just a little more time.

“You aren’t on a schedule Deku,” She stated. “Paper work can wait until tomorrow, this gorgeous report can wait until tomorrow,”

Deku sighed and rubbed his face with the palms of his hands, large doe eyes turning to look at his computer screen then back at his girlfriend. He gave an apologetic look her way and stood up from his chair with her. He stretched out his limbs and let out an inhumane noise when the shivers ran down his spine. Y/N giggled. She yelped when his large hands gripped the undersides of her thighs, hoisting her into his arms while her legs wrapped around his torso. He put his computer to sleep after saving his progress and turned off the light, shutting the door behind their figures as he headed to their bedroom.

“You don’t wanna watch a show tonight?” She queried as he placed her onto their plush comforters.

He threw his shirt off his head and crawled into bed, laying his head on his pillow and nearly knocking out right there. She took his silence as a no and snuggled next to him, lifting his arm to place herself under it, her head on his chest. She could hear his heartbeat and a feeling of sleepiness washed over her body in waves.

“What would I do without you?” Izuku smiled tiredly. “I’m glad I have you to keep me in check when I go a little too far,”

Y/N giggled and pressed her lips against his cheek sweetly.

“Yeah well, if I don’t do it, no one will,”

#mha #deku x reader #izuku midoriya #midoriya x reader #izuku x reader #bnha #anime #anime x reader #bakugo #todoroki #fanfiction #kirishima #iida #justin briner #my hero #boku no hero academia #deku fanart #deku fanfiction

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not-safeforsanders · 4 years

Text

Thunderstorm

Prompt: 26. “Make my muse whimper”

Ship: Analogical

Plot: Virgil discovers Logan is incredibly sensitive, but missing physical touch for a few months will do that to a person.

(A/N: I really love my touch-starved Logan content huh? Am I projecting? Yes. Do I care? No. Do I really need a hug? Absolutely)

Word Count: 2894

It’s one of those nights. Or mornings, rather, considering they've passed midnight into the very early hours of a half-asleep world. The rain is drizzling in the mid-autumn weather and the quiet is only breached by the sounds of young men, some students, some doing everything they can to avoid education, and some wondering how they got to this place in their life; they shout and talk loudly, most drunk, tripping over each other’s feet and shoving each other playfully.

At the back of this group, is Virgil and Logan, watching with amused expressions as their friends goof around in the middle of the road. Neither of them speak, they just shake their heads with fond smiles and walk behind the rowdy group. “Hey Logan! V!” The two twins at the front turn on their heels to face the men at the back. “We’ll see you next week, yeah?”

“Sure,” Virgil smiles, wondering when his friends had gotten so loud, or tall. Seems like just yesterday they were all kids, with so very few worries. Although right now they don’t seem to have any worries at all.

When they reach the crossroads, Virgil and Logan say goodbye to their group of friends and they all stray in different directions. The alcohol is starting to wear off in the cool air and the drizzle of rain, and Logan looks a little tired too. “Enough social interaction for the week?” Virgil asks, pushing his purple hair out of his eyes.

“I’m sure they get louder by the week,” Logan replies, sliding his glasses off of his face and putting them in the pocket, the droplets of rain irritating him. “Or they were always that loud and I was used to not listening to them.”

“I wish I could not listen sometimes, I have a migraine just from Roman and Remus bickering.” The two laugh, as the rain starts to come down a little heavier. “Looks like there’s going to be a storm tonight.” He hums quietly, the rain catching on his eyeliner, he likes thunderstorms; he likes the flash of lightning, the rumble of thunder, the way the rain bounces off the pavement. Logan does not look quite as happy with that development.

The two of them file into their apartment block, peeling off their coats as they wait for the elevator. “You look like a drowned rat,” Virgil comments, Logan’s black curls are sticking to his forehead and the sides of his face, his shakes his hair like a dog, scrunching his nose in distaste and shivers as his shirt sticks to his skin.

“Your eyeliner is running.” The other man replies simply, raising his eyebrow. His flatmate sticks his tongue out in retaliation, and they both wander into the elevator as it pings it’s arrival.

The ride up is silent, both of them a little tired, they walk through familiar hallways before opening their flat door, and it’s then the first rumble of thunder is heard. Logan inhales sharply, his knuckles turning white as he grips his coat so hard. His friend looks up at him, worried.

“Are you going to be alright Logan?” He gets a nod in response, but the lack of speech tells Virgil everything he needs to hear. “Let’s get changed, have a cup of tea, we can watch a film together yeah, until you can fall asleep.” He squeezes Logan’s arm and he doesn’t miss the way the other man startles a little at the touch, but he brushes it off, figuring Logan will talk about the things he wants too.

They both get changed in their own rooms, and Virgil boils the kettle while towel drying his long hair, it knots and tangles but he can only half care. That’s a problem for tomorrow’s version of Virgil, tonight he just cares about it not being wet. Logan emerges a little while later, wearing shorts and a long-sleeved, baggy baseball shirt; he looks tired, his eyes exhausted as he yawns. The other man smiles at him comfortingly, as another rumble of thunder startles his eyes wide. Logan’s always been scared of thunder, or at least since Virgil has known him, something about sudden loud noises just terrifies Logan.

But that’s okay, they’re all scared of something somewhere along the lines.

He places two hot cups of tea and honey down on the coffee table. “I brought my blanket in so we can stay warm.” The two sit down next to each other, Logan’s knees brought to his chest as he stares at the Netflix home screen, waiting for the browse menu to open. “I was thinking we could watch like an anime or something, something relaxing anyway…” The other man nods in reply, his arms folded on his knees with the blanket pulled over them; he looks cute, soft. But he also looks a little scared and it makes Virgil’s heart feel all wrong, he doesn’t want his best friend to feel scared ever.

He puts on a cute little film that seems to be about cats and people...or people turning into cats? It looks cute whatever it is. His feet brush against Logan’s and the other man tenses a little, before exhaling and leaning into the touch. “Would you like to cuddle?” Virgil asks, noticing that Logan still looked cold. There’s hesitance, before Logan shuffles closer and leans his head on Virgil’s shoulder, his body curled up beside him.

Virgil feels his heart physically melt in his chest. It’d been so long since they’d cuddled, and if he’s honest he’d thought perhaps Logan had just outgrown the want or need for cuddles and hugs and the like. He wraps his arm around his shoulders and he hears the dark-haired man make a small noise, but he can’t tell if it’s of discomfort or not until he nuzzles his head against Virgil’s shoulder and sinks into the touch, relaxing. “Logan when was the last time you had a hug?” A shrug. “A month? Two?” he furrowed his eyebrows. Now that he thinks about it, he’s never seen Logan bring somebody home but that doesn’t mean he hasn't, it just means Virgil hadn’t been there.

“You were the last person to hug me,” Logan mutters, finally.

He tries to run the past few months of their life in his own memory. But that was… “Logan that was nearly a year ago!”

“Yes.” He says it simply. Like it doesn’t matter. But the hard gaze in his eyes shows that it does, scrutinising the TV far more than needed. Thunder rumbles outside and then there’s a flash of lightning, Logan’s eyes screw shut. “I didn’t know how to ask.”

“You just ask, Lo, it’s not...I’m not ever going to say no,” Logan’s eyes open again and he looks up at him, his nose brushing against Virgil’s cheek, he pulls back a little, the closeness unsettling him. “Logan you’re a human person you can get touch starved without stuff like hugs.” he sighs and shakes his head “have you just been...completely alone?”

“I didn’t think I needed it,” he looks upset, like he’s in trouble or has done something wrong. “Then I just didn’t know how to ask, I knew that I was touch starved, I felt cold all the time even when it was warm but I just...I didn’t know how to ask.”

“Just say ‘hey Virgil, can I have a hug?’”

“Can I have a hug?” Logan asks. Virgil shuffles around to face Logan on the couch, the blankets fall away a little bit. He pats his lap, Logan blinks before he shuffles forward,sitting between Virgil’s legs, his own on either side of Virgil’s waist. The purple-haired man wraps his arms around Logan’s waist before lifting him up into his lap, Logan squeaks a little, his arms wrapping around his friend’s neck as he buries his face into his neck. They pull the blankets back around them as best they can, and Logan shivers as he sinks into the touch again, his whole body suddenly feeling like it’s burning. Thunder cracks outside and he jumps a little, his hands gripping the back of the other man’s shirt with a deep breath in.

“It’s okay, you’re allowed to need things Logan, you’re allowed to be scared, you’re allowed to be lonely, it’s okay, it’s human.” Virgil presses a gentle kiss to the side of his head and Logan whimpers softly, overwhelmed.

He’s shaking but he doesn’t really realise it at first, until Virgil starts rubbing his back and the feeling makes his stomach erupt with butterflies. “Thank you,” he mutters, leaning back a little to look at Virgil. “Thank you for understanding, for never making fun of me.”

“I have no room to make fun of you Lo, one of us is a mess and it isn’t you.”

“It feels like me right now,” he sighs, his fingertips drifting against the back of Virgil’s neck, the feeling of skin underneath his own something he’s not felt in so long.

“Yeah well, you get at least three nights a year to have a breakdown, at least.” They both smile at each other then, eyes studying each other’s expressions. The smile stops being amused and becomes more fond, a hand slides from Logan’s back to brush a still-damp curl out of his glasses so he can see a little better. Virgil does not miss the blush on the other’s cheeks.

He leans up to kiss his cheek, that was the plan, but Logan tilts his head and catches his lips in his own chastely. “Sorry,” he blurts out immediately. Virgil leans up to kiss him again, just as gently, just as quickly.

“So if it’s been nearly a year since you last had a hug, Logan, when was the last time you were kissed?” Logan flushes red.

“Two years.”

“How are you still breathing?” Virgil muttered “I’d have lost my mind by now.” Logan shrugs with a sheepish smile. “What about...everything else?” It takes the other man a moment to register the question, squirming a little in the other’s lap as he looks away from the gaze. “Lo?” he’s teasing him, he can see the grin, Logan huffs a little.

“Three,”

“Three years?”

“Yes.” Virgil blinks up at him, seemingly astounded as he shakes his head.

“I would’ve actually died, I feel like if I don’t have sex at least once every two weeks I cease to exist,” he laughs softly, but there’s no mockery in the tone, so Logan relaxes a little, finally meeting his eyes. “There again I am a bit of a slut.”

“You’re not a slut, there’s no such thing.” Logan mutters defensively “I just don’t really see the point in having sex if it’s not with someone I actually like,” he looks a little tired as he speaks, Virgil’s hand comes up to rub his back again, watching the other man’s eyes close at the touch, his body relaxing every single time that he’s touched. The thunder rumbles again, Logan’s jaw clenches, but it sounds like it’s getting further away now thank the heavens. “That’s alright Lo, I’m just teasing you,” Logan sighs a little, nodding.

“Can I kiss you again?” he asks. “I liked that,” Virgil nods and tilts his head up towards the other man, who leans down to kiss him, this time their lips part after a second, moving slowly. It’s been so long since Logan had kissed someone, but it’s all so instinctual that he barely thinks about it. His body feels warm though, even though the covers are slipping away again, he can feel virgil’s body underneath his own and it feels like...home. Like comfort. Like the thunderstorm doesn’t matter, or the film playing in the background, just Virgil’s hands now resting on his hips, or their lips.

All that anxiety eases away, he doesn’t hear the next rumble of thunder in the distance, he’s too wrapped up in the brush of the other man’s tongue against his own and the way it makes him shiver. Virgil’s hand rests on his thigh just for a second and it elicits a quiet gasp between their lips; Logan catches the other’s smile in the kiss at his response even though it makes his cheeks feel hot with some mild form of embarrassment. He’s just missed his body being touched, that’s all, he supposes it’s normal to feel sensitive when you’re touch starved.

Virgil’s hand slips up the back of his shirt, tracing up his spine with his fingertips, Logan can’t stop the quiet moan that pushes out of him, followed by Virgil biting lightly at his bottom lip.

They both pull away, catching their breath. Logan looks...like a hot mess. His breathing deep as his dark eyes stare, blinking rapidly, down at Virgil. His skin’s all flushed, but the other man can’t tell if it’s from the kissing or the fact his hands retreat from around the other’s neck to tug his shirt down over his thighs a little, suddenly avoiding his gaze. The smaller man chuckles a little, his hands finding Logan’s. “Don’t be embarrassed,” he muttered. “It’s normal Lo,” He leans up to kiss him again, one hand wrapping around the other’s waist and tugging him closer. “The real question is do you want me to do anything about it?” he whispers against his lips. Logan makes a small noise of surprise, before nodding mutely, seemingly stolen of his voice.

Virgil’s hand, that is not supporting Logan temporarily, falls to his thigh, tracing the line where the shorts (which have now ridden up quite a bit) stop, he slides his fingers up into them a little, tracing the skin of the inside thigh there, capturing the little unrestrained whimpers this gives in their kiss. He drags his nails down lightly, Logan’s hips jerk a little, squirming in his lap.

He’s something very pretty that’s for sure, Virgil almost feels privileged for getting to see the other like this.

Virgil’s hand presses against Logan’s hard cock, it’s achingly hard despite having not been touched yet at all, he’s not sure how long the other is going to last. He breaks the kiss a little to look down, his hands sliding Logan’s shorts out of the way, and he wraps one hand around his cock, pumping slowly, before their lips rejoin again. He almost doesn’t want to kiss him though, because just before he does, Logan lets out a high-pitched, soft moan, that almost sounds a little like a whine.

He strokes Logan and nips at his bottom lip, focusing entirely on the other’s pleasure as his free hand trails up the other man’s shirt and brushes against his nipples. He breaks the kiss again to slide up Logan’s shirt and seal his lips around one his nipples, sucking at it. The other man’s hands run through Virgil’s hair, tugging just a little but it doesn’t seem intentional, just a little like the other man has no control at all at the moment.

But without their lips being busied with each other’s, Logan pants and gasps and moans as much as he’d like and every single noise makes Virgil feel accomplished and, strangely, even more endeared by the other man. He’d thought maybe Logan would be more reserved in these situations, quieter, as shy as he is in general life. But no, he’s very vocal and it’s wonderful.

He looks up through his eyelashes and the purple strands of hair falling into his eyes up at Logan’s face, the other has his head tilted back a little, his eyes screwing shut as his hips shift into Virgil’s grip. He pulls away a little, because he wants to watch the other’s face, his hand replacing where his mouth was.

The taller man whispers Virgil’s name breathlessly, for a moment he seems to just concentrate and then his hands wind through Virgil’s shirt with an iron-like grip, his hips jolting as he whimpers out the other’s name again, louder, lost in his own pleasure as cum leaks between their bodies.

Virgil strokes him through it, even after he starts whimpering and squirming from the sensitivity, enjoying the sharp inhale and little noises that sound so soft, and a little helpless. He licks the cum off his hand with a small smile, Logan follows the movement with a shiver. “Do you feel better?” he asks, Logan nods dumbly, his eyes full of life but his head completely empty. “Really has been a while, huh?” He tucks the other man back into his pants, wrapping the covers around his shoulders. “You look like it’s bedtime.”

“What about you?”

“We’ve got the rest of our lives for you to give me a handjob Logan.”

“Oh yeah,” he mutters, before clambering off of Virgil’s lap. “That’s a good point.” The other shakes his head, an amused smile on his lips at the other’s expression, he takes Logan’s hand and turns off the TV, before they both head to bed for the evening, together.

#not safe for sanders

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nishiisenpai · 3 years

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skating under the lights - nishinoya yu x reader

REQUEST: “ Hiiiiii!! I was wondering if I could maybe get a Christmas fic? (Yes, I know it’s still November but-) Maybe where Noya and the reader are like, spending a day out (maybe they go to an ice skating rink or something) and they stop to stare at a giant lit up Christmas tree, and then Noya kisses them? Thank youuu! 🤍 I hope that wasn’t too vague! - @nishinoya-slut “

A/N: merry christmas everyone!!! i hope all the joy in this world will be well and sent to you after reading this request and that everyone is warm and bundled up in the coziest blankets, hoodies, socks, etc.

oh and to have the best presents ever!!! or the best hot chocolate, gingerbread houses and people alongside seen the christmas lights!

to those who do not celebrate christmas, happy holidays! stay safe, stay healthy and may 2021 bring you the best wishes and luck.

besides stating the obvious as always, i hope everyone is happy and doing well, this request was a lot of fun to write and my god do i love the holidays because of the 2 week break that i get away from school :D

P.S: i saw this request in my inbox and i just had to save it till christmas! so let this be my christmas gift to you all <3

WARNING: NONE - just fluff and christmas crack lol

WHO: Nishinoya Yu x Reader

FORMAT: short story

Ice skating is a very amazing thing to do during the holiday times. It’s super fun since you get to glide on the ice freely and no one will judge. Ice skating takes patience and skill to just stand up straight without falling.

Today you were testing that patience with your boyfriend Nishinoya on the ice.

You guys had gotten changed into some fairly warm yet moveable clothing for your ice skating date today at the city’s local ice skating rink.

A hat, warm leggings, a baggy sweater with a turtle neck underneath, some warm socks, mittens, scarf and a warm yet light weight jacket was all you needed to be set for ice skating. This was your time skating so it was quite nerve-wracking and sorta scary.

“Hey baby, you ready to go?” Noya had asked grabbing the car keys and placing a kiss on your cheek.

“Yup!” As you stood up from the ground to put on some shoes and picking up the bag with your skates.

“Let’s go!!!” Noya opened the door for you and him as you guys left your house to head to the skate rink.

Originally Noya didn’t plan on telling you about going to skate but he got a little bit excited and spilled it out. As the both of you were heading to the destination in Noya’s car, both of you were jamming to Christmas music that played on the local Christmas radio station.

Noya had this thing where, when he was the driver, he would have one hand on the steering wheel and the other laced with your hand or to have a grasp of your thigh. It’s comfortable for him to have some sort of touch on you.

“Your destination will be found on the left.” as the navigator stated.

“Anddd we are here.” Noya went to turn into the parking lot to find an empty slot for the car. He went through many lanes and finally found a parking space that was near the skating rink but still sorta far from sight.

“Babe, let me show you some mad parking skills.” Noya sent you a wink, and you shook your head in disapproval.

“Just be careful you don’t hit that-” as the car bumped back, “car.”

“Whoops... It’s fine though, we’ll just buy them candy and write them a note.”

“Noya!”

“What? I ain’t got money on me. You know I’m broke.”

“Fine, but at least make sure it’s expensive candy because if we get cheap candy, it’s gonna seem like we don’t care much.”

“Fair enough. Now, let’s get out of this car and go skating!!!” Noya kissed your lips and you kissed back. He went for another one but you pushed back.

“We can go skating after we buy the candy.”

“But babeee,”

“Baby, the nearest store is literally a 5 minute walk. Relax, the ice rink doesn’t close yet.”

“Okay, fine. You win. But once we get back, we are speeding to the rink. Like, speed will be on our side when we come back.”

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s go now.” You finished talking before opening your door carefully to leave the vehicle with Nishinoya shutting his side of the car to meet you at the end of the car with his hand out.

“Make sure to lock the doors.” you informed Noya.

“Already done, now hurry, we got to go buy that candy fast or we won’t skate for long.” Noya dragged your hand with you to go find the nearest store. You guys had decided to leave the skates back in the car as you were going to come back to place the candy by the hit vehicle.

“Awh, babe look! They have these here!” Noya had pointed out to an old childhood snack.

“What? No way! We have to get them for later.”

“Definitely. How many do you think we need?” Nishinoya had asked staring at the box of childhood snacks.

“How about ten? We would both get five each.”

“Smart thinking.” your boyfriend had agreed before dumping in ten of the childhood snacks into the basket that Nishinoya was holding.

“Let’s pick this brand of chocolate. They’re kind of expensive looking and have a decent amount for it’s price.” You picked up a box of chocolates that looked rather expensive looking.

“Eh, whatever works. Now can we pleaseee go back to skate? We’ve literally raided the candy aisle for a solid fifteen minutes.”

“Okay, okay, fine. But we also need to write a small note, so I’ll dash to the school supplies section to buy a small wad of paper and some pens.”

“Make sure to get stickers! They have to be the glittery ones!”

“Yeah! Yeah! I’ll go right now!” waving a hand in the air to signal your leave. You went to aisle nine where they kept the school supplies.

Searching for the paper and pen was easy, you even grabbed some markers to add some colour. Moving onto the stickers, it was hard. It was hard only because there were so many options for stickers. They had so many varieties of stickers. Ranging from flowers, animals, certain characters from different series, puffy stickers, and even simple glitter stickers. Too many stickers, yet so little money.

“Baby, what is taking you so long?” Noya had walked down the aisle as he stared at you in confusion.

“So many stickers, yet so little space and money...” You mumbled staring at the stickers.

“Stickers? What’s with the- oh... Wow... There’s so many.”

“I know... I’ve been staring at them for a solid five minutes admiring them.”

“Yeah, I can see why... But we need to really hurry up. The rink is gonna close soon, Y/N!”

“Okay, okay, okay! Let’s just grab these two.” your hand reached for the glittery stars and glittery minion stickers. Noya let out his hand and you latched on as you guys sped to the cash register to pay for the stuff.

Nearly tripping over your own feet, both of you managed to hurry back to Noya’s car as you quickly scribbled on an apology, randomly placed stickers on the apology note before throwing in the candy in the oversized bag Nishinoya had picked out and sneakily yet hurryingly placed the bag on their hood.

“Let me get the skates, and we are good to go.” your boyfriend smiled before opening his trunk to pull out two pairs of skates. “You ready, Y/N?”

“Not really.”

“Good enough!” Noya had grabbed ahold of your hand before dragging you to the ice rank.

“Wow...” you said in amusement at the many families and couples that came alongside the pretty lights that were set up around the rink.

“Isn’t it so pretty?” your boyfriend asked staring at the lights.

“I could stare at them forever.”

“I know, I know. Now, let’s get on the ice shall we?” Noya pulled you over to a seating bench to put on the skates. “Here babe, slide your foot in.”

You slid your foot into the skate as Noya laced it up for you.

“Now, the other one.” Again you followed suite and he finished it up for you.

“Let me just tie mine up real quick and we can go on the ice together.” Nodding at Noya’s statement as you watched him lace his skates.

“Baby, I’m kind of scared to go on the ice.”

“Relax, you got this. We can take easy small steps. Come on now. Take my hand, princess.” You grasped Noya’s hand tightly as you wobbled your way to the rink side. “I’m going to go on the ice first and guide you through, okay?”

You immediately latched onto the side of the rink as Noya let go of his hand to step onto the ice. He laughed at your reaction and you sent him a glare.

“Babycakes, it’s alright silly. Grab onto my arm.” Your hands latched immediately onto this arms as you tried to balance. “Woah, easy, easy, girl. You’re doing a good job.”

“Am I really, though?”

“Yes. Now slowly take one glide forward.” You followed his orders and slowly did so but wobbled again. You took another glide forward still clutching onto Noya.

“You’re doing amazing, baby! Now the other one.”

“W-Woah, this is so cool.” your eyes sparkled as you glided on the ice with your boyfriend.

“Right! Aren’t you glad I brought you here for a date?”

“I love it!” As you begun to glide forward very slowly and slowly took your arms away from your boyfriend’s arms.

“You’re doing so well!” your boyfriend glided towards you as he reached his arms out to hug your waist and placed a kiss onto your cheek.

“Now that I’ve got the hang of it, let’s glide on the ice together?” you linked your hand with Noya’s warm one and he blushed putting on a big smile.

“Mhm, let’s go!” Both of you glided on the ice holding hands and staying close to each other.

Both of you lovebirds had been on the ice for a bit, laughing and smiling at each other over small trips and loss of balance on the ice. You guys even did some competitions, but quickly stopped seeing the security guard eying you both which made you both shiver in fear.

You and Noya had agreed to take a break and sat by the side.

“This by far is the best date, we’ve been on.” Your cheeks hurt from smiling so much after sitting down to take a breather.

“I agree. Though if it weren’t for me, then we wouldn’t have made this new memory.”

“You’re absolutely right, sir.” as you brought Noya down by the collar to give him a kiss on the lips. “Thank you, baby.”

The lights that glowed off the Christmas tree gave Noya the look of a million stars. He was glowing and quite literally showing off the stars in his eyes from that small kiss.

“Can I kiss you again?” Noya asked as he came closer to your face.

“Of course silly, come here.” You placed your hands on the side of Noya’s face as he as well followed suite to give you another warm yet passionate kiss.

The tree glowed and towered over the people that skated and other people that walked by. The lights shining and being the source of light to create the shadow of two lovers sitting on a bench giving each other warm kisses.

“Merry Christmas, cutie.” Noya smiled brightly at you.

“Merry Christmas, lover boy.” you smiled back before going in for another kiss on the lips.

“Ahem. I need you two to uh leave. You’re making it sorta awkward for people to leave the ice rink.” The security guard from earlier said as the two of you blushed and turned flustered before apologizing profusely.

“W-we’re sorry! We’ll get going, now! Have an amazing holiday, Mr. Security Guard!” As you dragged Noya out of the exit and rushed to take off your skates.

Both of you rushed your way to the parking lot and sat in the car, and turning on the ignition to get the car started up.

“That was insane.” Noya said huffing out air.

“Yeah, it was.” You replied doing the same.

The huffing from both of you slowly went down as you guys calmed down and all that could be heard from the car was the Christmas music that played lightly.

“Another kiss?” he asked.

“You read my mind.” as the both of you quickly brought your lips to connect to one another and shared the warmth that came from the both of you.

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secretshinigami · 3 years

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An Unexpected Reencounter

Author: Daniel Funke (@danthegeek) For: @its-canon-and-im-feral Pairings/Characters: L/Light, Lawlight Ratings/Warnings: Smoking cigarettes, Slight homophobia(internalized), Slight Swearing Prompt: L and Light as renowned musicians Author’s notes: It’s the 80s Baby! L and Light reencounter each other when they are both invited to take part in the most spectacular musical event of the 20th century: Live Aid. Wordcount: 2784.

***

13th of July 1985. The day of Live Aid. L was hunched over his bathroom sink and took a deep breath. This was going to be fine. He looked into the mirror, meeting his own nervous looking expression written all over his pale face. He took another deep breath. Alright, let’s do this. L ran his finger through his messy black hair and glanced into the mirror for the last time. Baggy jeans hanging loose on his skinny frame. A black leather jacket over a white T- Shirt – his band members made him wear the leather jacket. “It’s the 80s dude, don’t you wanna look cool?” L rolled his big grey eyes that looked even darker because of the black eyeliner framing them. Yeah you look like a rock star. Strange.

L jumped when he heard his phone ringing in the hall. He hurried to pick up the call. “Hey buddy!”, a loud voice greeted L. He wanted to answer but the voice interrupted “So how excited is my favourite, favourite bass player?” L replied: “I’m fine, Eric”. “Of course you’re fine, L. It’s the biggest gig of our life. Can you even comprehend who we are gonna meet? The bands we are gonna share a stage with?” L smiled a bit at Eric’s enthusiasm. Then he frowned, remembering exactly whom he was going to share the stage with. “Yeah… I can’t comprehend, Eric.” “Well anyways buddy, we are gonna pick you up at 10 alright? Be ready. And put on some shoes, will you?” L rolled his eyes again. “Sure, Eric.”, he said and hung up. He looked down at his naked feet and sighed.

“Dylan if you don’t stop doing that—“, L said, annoyed. Dylan grinned at L and continued to spin his drumsticks around in his fingers. They were backstage now, although L did not really understand why they had to be at Wembley 5 hours early. He was mindlessly strumming around on his bass, imitating the melody of Another One Bites The Dust.

“Oi L, you think they will play that in their set?”, Nate asked. He was the lead singer and guitarist of their band. “I doubt it”, L said. “They are probably going to play more cheerful songs to animate the crowd. Like, you know, Radio Gaga or We Will Rock You.”

“Hey L, wanna bet?”, Dylan asked. He had finally stopped spinning around his drumsticks and grinned at L. “Ohhh Dylan, don’t do that”, Nate said and chuckled. “You know L has a sixth sense. You can only loose mate.”

Dylan sighed and pointed one of his drumsticks at L. “You’re right. The bastard ‘s like goddamn Sherlock Holmes.” L shrugged and continued to play on his bass guitar. “Anyways, who are you excited for, the most?”, Nate asked Dylan.

They were just as excited about Live Aid as Eric, and L had to admit that they could not be blamed for it. It was after all the biggest event that had ever been broadcasted on Television so far. A concert, that would host the most renowned musicians of the last decades. Anybody who is anybody is doing this concert.

“Okay so obviouslyMadonna”, Dylan declared, a dreamy expression in his eyes. “Obviously”, Nate repeated and cracked a smile. “And also, you know, U2”, Dylan continued. Nate nodded. In this moment, Eric joined them, as always a big smile on his face. He took a pull on his cigarette and put on a haughty expression.

“Guess where I’ve been?”, he said, looking at his three band members. Dylan rolled his eyes. “You’ve been making out with a groupie in our tour bus, am I right?” Eric blew out a wisp of smoke and laughed, obviously pleased with himself. “Anyways, what have you guys been up to?”, Eric asked and sat down with them. “We were just discussing which acts we are most excited for”, Nate said. “Oh that’s cool. Well Nate, I guess you wanna see Bowie?” “Oh Bowie is exceptional! But I’m actually more excited for KIRA’s act.”

L winced at the mention of this name but tried to remain still and unimpressed. Not one of his band members seemed to have noticed the sudden reaction of L. He stared at his bass and had clasped his fingers around it. From the outside he seemed normal, cold, a bit nervous at most. But inside, L was burning. A hot sensation burned itself through his entire body, starting from his head. He wasn’t even certain of his exact emotion. Was it rage? Embarrassment? Definitely a bit of acrimony.

“You’re right, KIRA totally rocks”, Eric agreed. “Their lead singer is so cool…”

“Quite literally”, Nate said. “I once met him backstage briefly, after a concert. I tell you, if looks could kill – his eyes have this…glistening glare.” “Oh come on, Nate. He just one of those guys who don’t wanna bother with anyone. You almost make him sound like he is evil or something. Eric and Dylan laughed.

L had followed the conversation, still feeling that storm of emotions inside him. He fetched a pack of anxiety pills out of his jeans pockets and took a couple. “Yo L, you alright mate?”, Nate asked. He looked at L a bit worried. “I’m just a bit nervous, it’s nothing. It’s still some time until sound check right?”, L asked and tried to sound casual.

“Yeah it’s like one and a half hours left”, Dylan said. “Alright.” L put his bass in its case and stood up. “Does anyone mind if I take a look around? I think I really need to stretch my legs out a little bit.” “Sure, go ahead. But please, please be on time for the sound check, yeah?”, Eric urged. “I will, don’t worry.” L tried to smile, although he wasn’t sure if he managed to make it seem genuine. Then he took off.

Light. Light Yagami. L could pull out his hair thinking about him. He leaned against the back door of the stadium and took a deep pull from his cigarette. If I were to meet this asshole ever again… He clenched his fist and tried to calm down. Somebody knocked against the door he was leaning at. L was startled and jumped back. The door opened and a young man looked at L, curiously.

“Do you mind?”, he asked and lit up a cigarette. “No, it’s alright”, L mumbled. He was not sure if he had seen this guy before. He had blond hair at shoulder length, wore a black blazer and pants. L noticed that he had been staring at the guy and quickly looked at the ground. “It’s alright, you don’t have to know me”, the guy chuckled. He offered his hand and L shook it. “I’m Deezer Dwight”, he introduced himself. “I’m L”, L said, smiling nervously. “Oh right, you’re with The Investigators, right? I gotta tell you I think it’s kind of a bummer that you aren’t gonna collaborate with The Police.” He grinned about his own joke. “Yeah, we really missed a chance there”, L said. “I’m sorry Deezer, I think I should know which band you belong to, but I haven’t seen you before.”

“That’s alright, I’m new. I just replaced the drummer of KIRA.”

Shivers were running down L’s spine. He threw his cigarette to the ground and put it out with his shoe. For once he was glad that he was not running around barefoot. “What happened to the old one”, L asked, again trying to sound casual. Deezer shrugged and sighed.

“Our lead singer didn’t get along with him anymore. He is…complicated sometimes.” “So what your lead singer says, goes?”, L inquired. “You know, Light… he has no sense of humour. He can be very cold. It’s not easy to work with him sometimes.” “I heard he could be a bit…ruthless sometimes.” Deezer laughed and lit on another cigarette. “That’s a nice way to put it. You should hear his real spicy stories. I swear you wouldn’t believe half of it.” L was intrigued. He knew at least one of these spicy stories really well. “Try me”, L said, trying to sound relaxed.

“Well some of the stories are more rumours…”, Deezer seemingly enjoyed sharing stories like this and his eyes lit up. “What I know for sure is that half of his money comes from people he sued for defamation of character. It was always about some affair he had, affairs that he denied happened. But I would put my both my hands in the fire, right here and right now that every one of these incidents happened and Light was just caring about his reputation too much. So he would threaten to press charges against those who would try to contact him after their…rendezvouses or whatever.”

L gulped and tried to process this information. “That’s… pretty messed up”, was all L could respond. But Deezer didn’t seem to mind his poor conversation skills. “Yeah, honestly it is. And I don’t even get why he cares so much what people think about him. So he does it with women and men, it’s the 80s for god’s sake. Elton does it, Freddie Mercury does it, I’m pretty sure Bowie is also in their club… like it’s alright to be… queer or whatever when you’re a rock star, you get me?” L nodded and looked at Deezer. He really did not seem to mind nor understand the fuzz about it.

“So you think Light Yagami is gay”, L asked Deezer, shoving his hands deep down his pockets. “No man he is just getting at it with everyone he finds attractive. I swear he is like all night out, every night, having someone sleeping over who then sneaks out at the break of dawn.” “Mhh.” L pressed his lips together and looked down at his feet. Well if that doesn’t feel all too familiar to you.

Suddenly Deezer jumped and they booth looked up as they heard an imperious voice calling Deezer’s name. “Oh man…”, he sighed.

“Seriously, how long is this smoke break going to take? Do you realize that we are on stage at Live Aid in two hours? Can’t I expect a little more reliability from my band members?”

Deezer and L both froze at that all too familiar voice, but because of very different reasons. “Sorry man”, Deezer whispered and threw his cigarette butt on the ground. I gotta go. It was nice meeting you! See you later maybe, good luck for your set.” He patted L’s shoulder and hurried through the backdoor.

L took his hands out of his pockets and stretched his arms above his head. Maybe it was time to go back to his band members as well. He reached for the doorknob, when once again someone tried to open the door from the opposite side. L took a step back and the door flung open.

L’s face turned white as he saw that he had just ran right into Light Yagami.

A couple seconds, nobody spoke or moved. Light looked at L, eyebrows raised. L couldn’t even determine whether Light recognized him or was just surprised to meet someone out here. He didn’t look embarrassed or guilty. L was still very pale and his big eyes stared at Light’s face.

He probably doesn’t even remember me. If he really has someone new every other night, how should he know who I was?

Light cleared his voice. He closed the door and leaned against the doorframe. “It’s you”, he said calmly. “Oh. So you do remember me”, L replied coldly. “I do. How could I forget that pretty face of yours?” Light smiled.

L pressed his lips together and took one step forward. “Don’t you dare, Light Yamagi. You know exactly what you did to me.” L felt the rage building up inside him. The humiliation.

Never call me again. I’m not a “fairy” like you. Those were his words.

“Listen, L. I’m really sorry. I was a jerk back then. But I swear, I’ve changed.” “I don’t believe you”, L simply said and came even nearer onto Light. He stared at his face, holding his breath, mesmerized by his appearance. Light Yagami was beautiful. His skin was light and flawless. His brown hair framed his handsome defined face. Light brown eyes were looking at him. He wore an open jacket with nothing underneath and white leather pants. Light kept a straight face, only looking at L without retreating. “Don’t believe me, then”, Light said calmly. The corners of his mouth twitched a little.

“It’s all just a big game for you, isn’t it Light?”, L said and glared at him. “You just like to play with people, pretend they’re something special, pretend you actually feel something for them when in reality you are not even capable of real feelings. So you push everyone away and stomp on their hearts.”

L had got himself into a rage and was breathing heavily. Light didn’t respond for a couple seconds, but he didn’t smile anymore. “Listen, L… I know I’m messed up. But you have to understand that I can’t take the risk of ruining my reputation. I had to threaten you to keep quiet about what we had. I really liked you, you know. But my career is everything to me.”

L looked at him, frowning. Light Yagami lies as soon as he opens his sweet mouth. As if that cheap apology could fool me. As much as L wanted to believe him, he could not help to still suspect him of being a notorious liar. He wanted to believe him so much. Wanted to believe he had changed.

“Will you forgive me L?”, Light asked softly and raised his hand to gently stroke across his cheek.

L felt a burning sensation rising up inside him again, only this time it was not fuelled by rage or anger. It was pure desire that poured through his body. “I–“, L stuttered and couldn’t close his mouth, “I…don’t know…” L was completely entranced by Light’s flawless features, his hot breath that he could now feel on his skin, his glowing eyes looking at L in a way that made him feel weak in his knees.

“What is it, L?”, Light asked smiling. L knew that Light was winning. He knew that Light was already in triumph, knowing that L couldn’t resist him no matter how hard he tried. L took a deep breath. “I don’t think I will…forgive you”, L breathed and took Light’s hand to put it away from his face. When he touched Light’s skin, it was like he was struck by lightning, like an electrical shock flashed right through him. He immediately let go of Light’s hand, but he couldn’t stop staring at him.

“That’s…a shame”, Light said in a low voice and casted down his eyes.

L was trembling. He was fighting every fibre in his body, because all he wanted was to diminish every distance between him and Light, to press his body against Light’s. He hesitantly took Light’s hand again and felt this overwhelming electrical sensation again. When he did that, Light looked up and smiled. At this moment, L knew that he had inevitably subjected himself to him. And Light knew that as well. He smiled, smugly, his eyes glistening with the certainty of victory.

He grabbed L by his waist and spun him around so L was pressed against the back door. He rested his hand next to L’s shoulder, pressing it against the doorframe. With the other hand, he slowly caressed L’s face. He went on to fondle with his hair and then he brought his mouth very close to L’s ear and whispered.

“Are you sure, that you don’t want to forgive me?”

L let out a moan, almost whimpering. He grabbed Light’s face and looked him in the eyes. He drew Light’s face even closer and then pressed his lips onto his own. Light sighed and buried his hands into L’s hair, messing it up even more and pulling on it as to elicit another moan. L could not believe how he could have forgot about the sweet taste of Light’s lips, the feeling of his body against his own, the irresistible smell he emanated. L never wanted to end this kiss but he needed to catch his breath. He gently pulled Light away from his face, breathing heavily and gazing at Light with his big grey eyes. Light smiled again, his lips red and slightly swollen from the kiss.

“I still don’t forgive you”, L whispered and smiled back at him.

#fanfiction #death note #submission #pairings: lawlight #ratings: teen #cw: smoking #cw: drugs #itscanonandimferal #danthegeek #Mello's Birthday Mayhem 2020

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subtlereferencetomyinterests · 3 years

Text

I Taste Honey but I Haven’t Seen the Hive - Chapter Four

Ao3, Masterpost, C.1 C.2 C.3

Relationships: eventual queer-platonic intruality, mentioned platonic relationships

tumblr edits out my italics when i copy/paste, and its midnight on a school night, so. italics arent in the tumblr version of this chapter cuz im not manually replacing them rn :P

Warnings: Taxidermy, swearing, fights (verbally, not physically), mentions of death, sexual innuedo (thanks remus), sympathetic everyone but there is Conflict.

Word Count: 2,645

Patton had learned, in his many years of emotion-filled life, that every person interacted with others uniquely. An obvious thing to learn, maybe, but in his younger years he felt like it really wasn’t made clear enough.

When it finally hit Patton that other people didn’t feel things in just the same way he did, it came with slow disbelief. Shocked was he to learn that not only were people so vastly different inside, but that he might’ve been one of the most different of all- even with the other sides. After all, each of them had seemed to understand all their differences like it was second nature, while Patton tried to come to terms with the information.

And come to terms with it he had, throughout Thomas’ late teens to early twenties. It was just Patton’s nature to try and learn about his friends, and that didn’t change when the task got harder. If anything, he’d become furiously determined to know how to care for all his family better than anyone, even if it more than once sent him spiralling in thought.

Logan, for example, was at his best when he was around other people; calmly talking, debating, doing work in the same space, anything that amounted to time spent together. So, even when Patton didn’t know what he was going on about, he did his best to at least be someone Logan could talk at. Which must’ve have worked somehow, because Patton couldn’t even count the times anymore he’d realized it had been hours after starting a conversation with his best friend, the both of them grinning and talking and enjoying each other’s company. Color Logan understood!

Roman, an even easier case to crack, didn’t really care what kind of attention he got- as long as it was positive. Which Patton was of course happy to provide! Though Roman became easily suspicious of any signs of friendship, Patton liked to think he’d weaseled his way into being a close companion, if the amount of times Roman dragged him off on adventures was any indication. Roman, too, was a check!

Virgil had been harder to figure out; not enough support and he got nervous, too much and he’d get overwhelmed. Fine balances did not come easily to Patton, so there had been more than a little trial and error. He’d eventually landed on treating him not unlike a wild cat: to just exist in the same space and let Virgil do whatever he wanted in his own time (a method that had found resounding success!). Virgil, much as he wanted to seem mysterious, was also marked off the list of understanding.

Janus was deceptively easy to work out. He just needed someone to challenge him, all in good sport, to be friendly and frustrating at the same time. Call it environmental enrichment, but with people! Patton was more than happy to be one of those people, pushing and pulling in equal parts banter and genuine conversation. Janus, surprisingly, was clear as well.

Patton wondered if it was weird to think about it so much. He thought about all of them, and he wondered if they took time to decode him, too. Or maybe they just knew already- they saw the heart on his sleeve (or chest, as it were) and had him all figured out right then.

He liked to believe they did spend time thinking about it, though. It was nice to think he wasn’t the only one that cared enough to take the time, and he knew that they cared about him already! Even if they didn’t say it as much as he did, even if they showed it all differently, and even if sometimes it felt like they didn’t understand him…

They still cared. The hoodie around his shoulders said so. The card framed on his wall said so. The stray dog dander on his clothes said so. So long as he had that, who needed the luxury of understanding?

Patton shook his head, no, he wasn’t worrying about all them right now. Right now, there was someone else to worry about.

Remus. Remus, who always chatted on and on, but sometimes went dead quiet for no reason at all; whose expression never seemed to match his words, who laughed when he was happy and when he was angry, who yelled when he was bored and when he was overwhelmed. Remus, who threw himself around a corner for a cheap jumpscare every five minutes, limbs broken and wrapped in ragged, punk-style clothes. Who would also drape himself all the way across Patton gently and calmly, wearing something baggy and impossibly soft (but still neon as ever), talking and talking and acting like it was all perfectly normal. Remus, who Patton wasn’t even sure was officially his friend yet.

Patton wanted him to be. But there was still… something in the way. Some kind of frustrating, tense, unknowable barrier that left him on edge around the trait. If Remus could just tell him something, anything, or give him any hints at all about what Patton was supposed to make of him, then it wouldn’t be so downright impossible. But he was inscrutable, an open book written in a language Patton didn’t know.

Whenever Remus walked into the room, it was almost like nothing had even changed since his acceptance.

Speaking of-

Patton barely had time to dodge out of the way as Remus leapt onto the couch, landing in a sprawl and taking up as much space as possible. He looked out of breath, so he’d probably booked it down the hallway and stairs, too. Just as probable was him having no reason for doing so at all.

“Hello,” Patton said.

Remus, from his laid down position, arched his neck up until he was peering upside-down at Morality. He had a reserved look in his eyes, but it was obvious he was fighting not to grin.

“Guess what I did.”

Patton paused. There were… a lot of ways that could go. Most of them weird.

“Um-”

Remus made a disturbingly accurate buzzer noise, exclaiming, “Took too long!”. He flipped over onto his stomach and propped himself up on his palms, his legs draped over the arm of the couch, and rocked back and forth excitedly. “I made you something!”

The worry slipped out of Patton’s mind, replaced by curiosity. He hummed, smiling, and asked:

“Like a gift?”

Remus beamed.

“Something like that!”

As Patton laughed by response, he ran his thumb compulsively over his bead bracelet (that he hadn’t taken off even once since getting, of course).

“That’s so sweet!” he chirped, “You didn’t have to do that.”

The Duke puffed out a breath, ruffling the white section of his hair. He rolled his eyes and shifted around, pushing up until he sat upright.

“Yeah, I know. Haven’t we done this dance before, Morey?”

“Okay, okay, I know,” Patton shrugged, his expression turning sheepish, “What is it, then?”

Remus’ grin widened in that almost impossibly way of his, and something about the glint of his teeth was distinctly threatening. It probably wasn’t intentional, but Patton could never really tell, when his claws tapped impatiently against his leg and something mischievous wormed into his expression.

“Well, you have to close your eyes, first!” Remus clapped his hands together, and there that glint seemed to get brighter.

“Oh, uh-”

“It’s not gonna be my dick, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Patton yelped, covering his face with his hands in embarrassment.

“Well I wasn’t worried before you said that!”

Remus shrieked with laughter. Patton didn’t move his hands from his cheeks, a flush of discomfort starting at his ears and pricking his skin.

“You’re hilarious, but no- not this time, at least,” -Remus winked- “But just close your eyes, okay?”

Patton took a couple deep breaths, glancing up to give Remus his best approximation of a stern glare. He then let his hands drop to his lap, palms up, and squeezed his eyes shut.

There was a soft whoosh, and something small was dropped into Patton’s waiting hands. He ran the pad of his thumb over its surface, tracing something like fur. Soft, short fur, but when he pressed it was far too stiff to be a plush animal.

“Remus,” Patton felt along the object with both hands, jolting when he felt something scaly at the end, “What-”

“You can look now!”

Patton did as told, staring down at his lap.

There laid a rat.

A dead one, to be precise. A dead, taxidermized rat, posed up on its hind legs like some goofy little cartoon character. It’s eyes were impersonal glass orbs, but its skin was perfectly, horribly real.

Patton looked up, his eyes wide with disgust, to see unfiltered excitement shining on Remus’ face.

“I made it myself!” His pride echoed in the words, that grin stretching his lips looking all the more unnatural.

It was then that Patton’s body caught up with his brain, and he realized what exactly he was holding. He dropped it- all but threw it, actually- kicked it and scrambled back and anything to just get away.

The gift fell to the floor with a dull thump, toppling under the coffee table and out of sight. Patton pressed his hand against his mouth, the other one tightly fisted in his lap. He felt sick- sick enough that his brain was leagues away from rationality. Because he’d really touched- held- that corpse, that thing that used to be a cute little critter, what was now a homemade trinket of horror.

He turned his attention back to Remus, and a million thoughts and feelings rushed him. Betrayal, horror, fear- and weirdest of all was surprise.

Remus’ smile twitched, and he tipped his head from side to side.

“You dropped it,” he pointed out, “I thought you liked rats?”

The noise Patton made was something between a gasp and a cry.

“I like alive ones!” He exclaimed, pushing himself back until there was a good cushion’s distance between himself and Remus.

Remus’ smile dipped lower.

“Well, this way you don’t have to take care of it! It’s all of the cute with none of the trouble!”

“You think this is cute?!”

He couldn’t believe this was happening, after everything- he hadn’t gotten through to Remus even a little? It was all still a game for him to terrorize Patton? To shove dead things into his lap and laugh about it?

But Remus wasn’t laughing, strangely. In fact, he was very still.

“You don’t like it?”

In hindsight, Patton would look back on what he said with remorse so strong it gave him headaches. He had scores of memories like that, of course, but this one’s sting would never fade, not even long after they’d moved on from it. But in that moment of fear, of revile, he could not think about anything else but the feeling of being tricked by his almost-friend laying heavy in his stomach.

“Like it? Is this- are you joking? Remus, you made me touch a dead animal! I thought we were starting to be friends, but- oh my God, what is wrong with you?!”

Patton was sure he stopped breathing right after he said that, his voice choking out. In the silence that followed, you could’ve heard a pin drop.

Remus stood up, and everything about the way he moved showed a woundedness that didn’t suit him. He looked at Patton with an awful intensity, his ruby-red eyes practically glowing. There was nothing vulnerable about him when he was hurt, nothing at all like how Patton would respond to something like an argument. There was only anger and tension.

He didn’t smile, but his voice stayed pitchy. Gleeful.

“Everything,” Remus hissed, “I thought you’d catch on before now, but.”

Remus spun on his heel, and the floor beneath him bubbled with oil and acid and plague as he sank into the ground and out of the living room. The carpet shriveled, sick-green, in his wake.

That was when the understanding hit him. A lot like a train.

“Oh, no,” whispered Patton, “Oh, no.”

Patton struggled to his feet, as if on autopilot. Was he going to go after Remus? No, no, that definitely wouldn’t go over well. He was probably halfway into the Imagination by then, anyway, ready to take his anger out on his creations and not do any talking at all.

Patton tore his eyes away from the spot where Remus had sunk out, stumbling over to the coffee table instead. He crouched, reached his hand under it, and let his fingers touch the fur of his discarded present. He grabbed it, looked down at it. The wave of nausea when he saw the little rat was now less disgust, and much more regret.

He cradled the preserved creature in his hands with all the gentleness he could. There was a slip of thick, yellowish paper attached to it, that in all the upset had gone completely unnoticed. It was folded in half, tied with twine to the rat’s neck.

Patton looked into the rat’s shiny, empty eyes for far too long, watching his reflection be distorted by the spheres. He took a shuddering breath, then, and thumbed the edge of the paper, felt its grain, and flipped it open.

“This is Jenner. You can have him, because even if you’re a priss, if you can handle me you can handle having cool shit like this. Plus, you’re weirdly nice to me, so I guess I don’t mind being nicely weird to you.

-R (the funnier one <3)”

Patton read the note once. Twice. Three, four, maybe six times the words ran over each other in his head.

The paper slipped from his fingers. He held his rat in both hands and stared down its coffee-brown snout. Patton couldn’t help bringing the figurine to his chest and hugging it tightly, like it was the thing he’d hurt so badly, serving as surrogate. Its sharp fingers and tail poked through his shirt like needles, but he ignored it, holding the irrational hope that the inanimate object could forgive him somehow.

Jenner was creepy, that was probably intentional; his proportions and pose were so uncanny it couldn’t have been an accident. And it was so, so very Remus of a thing that Patton couldn’t stand to hate it. His shift in view was so sudden, and in some sad way he realized that the conflict had been the final piece he’d needed. What let that understanding crash into Patton’s mind, painting the picture of somebody layered.

The picture of Remus, who he was, had finally clicked into place- and at the exact worst time for it to do so.

Patton had fucked up. Massively.

He didn’t react how he thought he would when he realized it. He didn’t grow weary and exhausted, desperate to apologize and then collapse into unthinking sleep for days. Gone was the emptiness of making promises that he hoped he could hold true on, just wanting to have gotten it right the first time. No, Patton felt something burning under his skin, something itching him to take action because he’d learned from a mistake. He knew exactly what he’d done, and he was ready to do better right damn now.

Patton breathed in deep and exhaled sharp, because first…

He sunk out to his room, Jenner tucked into the crook of his elbow. He rose up at his bedside and shoved a handful of knickknacks off the nightstand. With enough space cleared, Patton set his rat down on the table and stood it up on his alarm clock, facing the bed. And then, as just a final touch, he smoothed back the fur of its head and gave it a peck on the forehead.

Now, he had some planning to do.

Chapter Five

Taglist: @shrimp-crockpot @glitter-skeleton-uwu @donnieluvsthings @intruxiety @thefivecalls @did-he-just-hiss-at-me @gayformlessblob

#sanders sides #ts #intruality #my writing #fanfiction #fanfic #platonic intruality #qpr intruality #patton #remus #ts fanfic #sanders sides fanfiction

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stereksecretsanta · 3 years

Text

Merry Christmas, happyjuicyfruit!

For @happyjuicyfruit. I'm not going to lie, I saw your request and an idea was born and aside from sleep and work I wrote non-stop until this was done because it felt so good to write it. So cathartic. I hope you enjoy reading as much as I did writing.

Read On AO3

*****

Falling into Place

“The best feeling in the whole world is watching things finally fall into place after watching them fall apart for so long.”

Unknown

The warm hum of the TV mingled with the sound of the running shower through the small studio apartment Stiles rented in Sacramento. He scrambled on his small double bed (tucked into the corner alcove opposite the bathroom door) to try and get his sweats on without applying any pressure to his injured foot. He awkwardly half-hopped on one leg, falling back on his ass on the mattress as he held the cuff carefully open to maneuver his bandaged foot inside. Mission successful, he star-fished on the bed, fully clothed at last, damp hair mussing the sheets and his foot throbbing.

He stared at the ceiling for a long moment, listening to the sounds of the shower, then forcing his eyes shut tightly to try and banish the image of exactly what body parts the less than average water-pressure might be crashing down on. Swallowing thickly, he hopped awkwardly along the narrow space, around the bookshelf he’d used as a divider at the end of his ‘sleeping area’ and into his roughly eighteen feet of living/kitchen space.

Careful not to clip his injured foot on anything, he managed to get the leftover lasagne out of the fridge and into the microwave with minimal disaster. He then frantically searched through the pile of unwashed dishes and cutlery to find enough for two people to eat with.

For some reason, it bothered him, the idea of Derek seeing his dirty dishes. He froze then, wondering if he’d left his laundry hamper spilling over. He didn’t have much time to panic, because the second he thought it, the shower shut off.

A few moments later, Derek stepped out into the room, steam billowing behind him, hair damp and…wearing Stiles’s t-shirt and sweats which looked a little tight in the shoulder and chest and across Derek’s thighs but mostly fit him just fine. Luckily Stiles preferred baggy. He didn’t realise he was staring until Derek started talking.

“I took them off the clothes dryer in the bathroom. I hope that’s alright? I washed mine in the sink. They had blood on.”

Stiles blinked, struck mute for a moment, still not really over the way his sweats clung across Derek’s hip area to form words. “Ah, no, sure, all good,” he managed at last, using the washing up to distract himself. “At least I’ve filled out a bit since the last time you had to borrow my clothes, right? And you’re lucky I had some spare. Laundry day is well overdue, to be honest. I’ve just been working on my assignments, which I got in on time, but then I found out about this case, the one with you in it and I had to find a way to convince them to let me in on it, to try and get you out, you know? So I’ve been so busy I just haven’t had time to–”

“Stiles,” Derek said, cutting his rambling off. “It’s fine. Really. This is hardly the worst place I’ve stayed.”

Stiles laughed. “Wow, ringing endorsement. Better than an abandoned bus station. Well, I’ll have you know this is a steal so close to HQ and it may be small but it’s just been done up. I am the first tenant to tarnish this kitchen. And because it’s one of the many investment properties Natalie Martin got out of the divorce, and of course Lydia is using emotional blackmail to my advantage, I can actually afford to live here without bankrupting my dad even further. Plus the roof-terrace, it’s amazing. I mean, I never actually go up there but some residents have this communal allotment and the view is amazing. Or, you know, it would be if I went there.”

Derek had crossed his arms, had rolled his eyes with that sigh, all of which weretelling signs Stiles was annoying him. And yet there was a little twist at the corners of his mouth that made Stiles’s stomach flip.

The microwave pinged then and Stiles came back to himself, prodding at the centre of the two chunks of lasagne to check they were heated properly before decanting them onto two plates. He went to offer one to Derek, complete with cutlery, before hesitating. He winced.

“Uh, would you mind carrying mine over to the ol’ dining area there? It’s a second hand couch but it’s in pretty good shape and I don’t wanna get lasagne all over it by hopping over there with my plate.”

Derek frowned at him for a moment, then down at his foot, as if he’d forgotten Stiles didn’t magically heal like he did from gunshot wounds – or, you know, splintered fragments of cement that had ricocheted off the wall from the gunshot that had largely missed him, but still. He’d been on the run again, Stiles knew, and before that likely just with Cora since he and Braeden had gone their separate ways. If their texts over the last few months or so were anything to go by, that is. He’d probably not spent much time with humans since last Stiles had seen him, except the ones trying to trap or shoot him.

Eventually, Derek took both plates and stepped back a little into the makeshift doorway between the wall and the shelf that stood as a screen at the end of the bed. It held his books, nicknacks and a TV that swivelled to face either the living area or the bed because Lydia was a goddess and a genius. Stiles hopped awkwardly passed him, supporting himself on the arm of the couch as he eased down onto it. Derek offered his plate to his sturdier lap rather than his hands, likely a survival skill taught after years of observing how erratic Stiles’s hands could be, before settling next to him on the couch.

The late night news was reporting the raid on the warehouse as a drug bust but they knew the truth. Thankfully, the FBI didn’t seem to know the truth, that the guy they’d been pursuing, namely Derek, was a werewolf. He thought they’d managed to get out of it without exposing that and hopefully, if Scott’s dad came through for them, Derek would be out of the spotlight soon enough.

Stiles had set it all in motion the second he’d seen Derek’s face on a slideshow of live suspects, but when he’d discovered they were planning on raiding a possible location of Derek’s, he hadn’t been able to wait for Rafael McCall. He’d made many contingency plans, but the one that’d ended up going into motion had been such a cliché he was almost disappointed in himself and the institution he was interning with.

He’d snuck in a spare FBI jacket and in the chaos, had managed to get Derek into it and offered up his cap and they’d literally walked out of there. Well, Stiles had been carried really, but semantics.

He hadn’t planned for there to be hunters there, who had happily started shooting the second the FBI had burst in looking for Derek. Derek, who had only been there because somehow those hunters were connected to the murders the FBI had linked Derek too. Stiles hadn’t gotten the full story out of him yet. But anyway, he hadn’t planned for there to be idiots there wanting to go on a shoot-out with the FBI, for bullets to be flying everywhere. He hadn’t planned for getting injured by exploding concrete, which was pretty much a bullet wound anyway.

That’s what his bosses were classing it as anyway – wounded in action pretty much. They were so pleased an intern that shouldn’t have really been there hadn’t been killed and that he was pretty much taking near-death in his stride that he thought maybe his reputation might have gained a few more points if anything.

And once Scott’s dad finished subtly helping Stiles’s team to connect the hunters to the murder instead of Derek, exoneration hopefully shouldn’t be too far behind.

“Where did you get this from?” Derek asked as he gulped down another mouthful of lasagne like a starving animal. Really, Stiles wondered when his last decent meal had been.

“Uh, I made it,” Stiles said with a mostly empty mouth. “I can’t afford to live off take-out, dude. I gotta live smart while I’m still an intern.” Even with the FBI an internship didn’t pay a luxurious dividend. “I can make a few things that can keep in the fridge for a few days. This is the last of the lasagne though, buddy, so if you want seconds the take-out menus are on the fridge.”

Derek blinked at him, looking almost owlishly startled which was sort of adorable on him really. He looked tired and confused and a few stray droplets of water trickled down his neck from his damp hair. “No, this is good. I was just surprised, that’s all.”

“Well, they haven’t given me my Michelin stars yet but I can eat a lot better than some of the other interns by being smart about it and thinking ahead.” Stiles finished the last few bites of his own and set the plate on the floor by his feet. “If I hadn’t learned to cook and make food stretch a little more, dad and I would’ve had to sell the house to keep us in take-out.”

Derek had gotten the larger portion, Stiles was a good host, so he was still eating and seemed to consider Stiles’s words for a long time before saying between mouthfuls, “Your mom taught you?”

Stiles offered a wistful smile.

“Yeah. Not gourmet or anything but cooking was our thing. I wasn’t the kind of kid that could sit down and watch TV while their mom cooked. I was always under her feet so she made me help, made me useful. Some things stuck, I guess. I learned enough.”

He thought that was going to be the end of it. They fell quiet and the late news bulletins had long-since finished and returned to some late-night comedy talk show. But then Derek spoke, quiet and distant, like he was somewhere far away, in a tone way Stiles wasn’t sure he’d ever heard from him before.

“My dad was the cook. He didn’t really teach me meals, Laura always used to help him in the kitchen. But he did teach me to make his salted caramel brownies.”

Stiles wasn’t sure what to do with that.

It’d been a long day, a long few weeks for Derek, really. He looked both world-weary and yet less troubled than he had since Stiles had last seen him. He sounded at peace with a part of himself Stiles had only ever glimpsed in their two years or so of chasing monsters together around Beacon Hills.

“Those sound amazing,” Stiles offered with a little smile, because it was the truth. Derek’s face turned to him then, empty plate still in hand, the glow of the TV and kitchen light making his features soft and warm.

He studied Stiles for a long time, eyes roving his face as if he were relearning him, before he said quietly, “it’s really good to see you, Stiles.”

Stiles smiled and chuckled a little self-consciously, “well, you know, likewise. And hey, I’m always willing to put you up when you’re a wanted fugitive, you know this from experience.”

Derek raised a brow, lips twitching. “Did you mention that in your interview for your internship with the FBI?”

“Oh, we got a sense of humour since we last met, huh?” Stiles laughed, but as he put his foot down to rise, he winced, remembering his injury. “Holy shit,” he hissed, grasping his ankle in lieu of his throbbing foot, thinking of the medication the hospital had sent him away with, sitting on the kitchen counter.

When they’d made their initial getaway, Derek had literally skulked around in the shadows while Stiles reported to the field leader, before taking himself to the hospital. In matter of fact, Derek had taken him to the hospital, giving him sideways looks like he was equal parts pissed off and concerned. And he hadn’t left Stiles’s side until they’d come back to Stiles’s apartment and they’d taken their respective showers.

To be honest, sitting in Derek’s rental car while he picked up Stiles’s prescription was a bizarre feat he kept coming back to. Not an unpleasant one though. He was definitely more than capable of looking after himself, had proven that a hundred times over, really. But it felt nice, having someone there who looked worried, who took the dinner plates and set them in the sink, who brought his medication and water to take them with in the only clean glass and…oh god…

“Dude, you don’t have to clean my dirty dishes, you’re a guest–”

“Technically, I’m a fugitive in hiding,” Derek cut across him neatly, running more hot water into the sink, the last of it until the tank filled up again after two showers, Stiles thought. “Besides, you need to stay off your foot and if you leave these dishes another night they might run off on their own.”

Stiles glared at him as he drank from his glass and then downed his pills. “This is a small apartment, buddy, there’s only room in here for one wise-ass.”

Derek ducked his head as he started the dishes, but Stiles caught his smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Stiles woke up with a little start, the kind you got when you caught yourself drifting off on the couch in front the TV. Except it didn’t look as if he’d caught himself. It looked like he’d fallen asleep in front of the TV and Derek had carried him to bed. The medicine must’ve knocked him out, Stiles thought, blinking blearily at the narrow strips of pre-dawn light peeking around his blind to the side of the bed.

He could hear soft breathing in the quiet from beyond the wall that the double-sided bookshelf made and it felt comforting. Even now, nearly a year-on from the event, he still had trouble with the feeling of waking up too quickly. He wondered why his initial panic hadn’t woken Derek, but then, he supposed Derek had been on the run for so long, again, it was no wonder he was dead to the world.

The fact that he felt safe enough to crash in Stiles’s place was another thing to think about all on its own. The insinuations and repercussions swirled around in Stiles’s brain as he fully came aware of himself, cursing the pain in his foot before sliding tentatively out of bed. He used the bathroom as quietly as he could, then realised if he wanted to take more medication, he’d have to eat something first and to do that he’d have to turn the light on in the kitchen to find something.

The sounds of Derek sleeping sounded so peaceful that he felt like a dick for contemplating it. In the end he crawled quietly back into bed, careful to keep the leg attached to his wounded foot out of the blankets and tried to ignore the pain.

It didn’t work. He fidgeted uncomfortably, the discomfort making him uneasy, letting his mind stretch to strange places, to worries that apparently simply had to be solved at 3am. It was cold in the apartment too which didn’t help, but Stiles was one of those defiant people that waited until he was cold enough to be wearing a beanie indoors before he would put the heating on – more blankets before heating.

He’d worked himself into a state wondering if maybe the nurse he’d seen earlier hadn’t managed to get all the fragments out of his toe and that was why it hurt so much, when he heard Derek shifting around on the sofa. On instinct, he squeezed his eyes shut, guessing he just wanted to take a leak, but his brow furrowed when he heard a click-clack sounds on his wooden floor. It reminded him of Scott’s old dog loping across the kitchen floor and it took him a moment to register what that noise meant until he felt a cold, damp nose snuffling around his foot.

An image came to Stiles behind his closed lids and he remembered the black wolf darting into the fray in the desert, eyes glowing blue.

He twitched at the contact, but Derek either thought that was an instinctive motion out of sleep or didn’t care if he was awake because he hopped carefully up onto the bed and draped his front legs over Stiles’s. One of his heavy, warm paws just rested over the place where Stiles’s sweats had ridden to expose his ankle and it was as if Stiles could feel all of the pain draining away from his throbbing foot through the place where Derek’s warmth rested.

Opening his eyes at the sheer relief, he of course found the same black wolf sprawled half over him, warm and soft and staring right back at him with piercing blue eyes that glowed in the dimness. Stiles could just make out his shape and without really thinking about it, he reached out to touch. It just occurred to him that maybe Derek didn’t want to be petted like a dog and that maybe he might give him a reproving nip when he felt soft, fine fur under his fingers and the pressure of Derek leaning into his touch.

Stiles stroked one downy ear and then, emboldened, scratched his fingers over the wolf’s head. It felt cathartic and he wondered absently about those therapy animals, before the flick of Derek’s tongue against his wrist.

A low, tired chuckle rippled out of Stiles, hoarse and sleepy. He thought in the pre-dawn dimness, in the little alcove the bookshelves created around his bed, that maybe anything was possible without complications. There were no rules, no posturing or pride or uncertainty. Derek had sensed his discomfort, his pain, maybe even his loneliness – maybe because it mirrored his own. The low, grumbling sound Derek made when Stiles stroked the side of his head and scruff told him Derek was as happy for it as he was.

Then Derek, still the wolf, laid his head down on Stiles’s torso, breathing evenly and Stiles fell asleep stroking his fingers over his fur. Fell into a slumber that was light and painless and full of dreams.

Derek was already gone from his bed when he awoke well into the morning. When he sat up and hobbled out of bed, Stiles found him doing push-ups in the space between his couch and the TV. He stared at him dumbfounded for a moment, still finding it surreal, a half-naked Derek Hale exercising in his tiny apartment with sweat beading between the muscles of his shoulders and down to the small of his back.

He had the terrible feeling that he was staring and that his lips were parted, as if ready to spill something embarrassingly appreciative so he quickly turned into the kitchen area – only to stop dead. It was spotless. The dishes were cleaned and stored away, the units were practically gleaming and to make it worse, there was a laundry basket in front of the fridge piled high with clean, neatly folded laundry.

Holy shit.

“Dude, please tell me you did not do my laundry?” he pleaded, dismayed.

Derek seemingly ignored him for a moment, pushing up from the floor, the tight line of muscles in his back drawing Stiles’s unwitting gaze until he eventually rose. He snagged the glass of water off the side and drank it down greedily.

Stiles couldn’t help but wonder how many push-ups a werewolf had to do before getting all sweaty. But then the thought drifted off on a tangent about how long a werewolf might have to do other things to get that sweaty. How long, how hard…

Oh god, his face was burning.

Green-hazel eyes considered him for a long time, bright with the sunlight streaking through the window and Stiles had the horrible feeling Derek could tell his thoughts by smell or something. Whether he did or not though, all he said was, “I had to wash the blood out of my clothes. It just made sense to take yours at the same time. It’s no big deal.”

“Even my dad doesn’t wash my dirty underwear, Derek!”

Derek snorted, rolling his eyes. “I didn’t roll around in them, Stiles, I tossed everything into two washers.”

Stiles spluttered at the idea of Derek rolling around in his laundry and his hands flailed. “You’re a wanted fugitive until further notice, you could’ve been caught!”

Rinsing the glass in the sink and setting it on the draining board to dry, Derek turned back to face him, leaning slightly against the units. “I went to the utility room downstairs. No one was going to be looking for me there. I don’t get what the problem is.”

Well no, Derek wouldn’t, would he? Because he’d always been awful at looking after himself. Because he hadn’t had to share space with a human since…forever and Stiles was hyperaware that Derek could probably tell his every activity for the last few weeks on his dirty clothes, that he could probably read Stiles’s mind from chemo-signals or whatever and Stiles was only just realising exactly how much he had to hide.

Clearing his throat awkwardly, Stiles scrubbed at his hair and the back of his neck. “Ummm, you’re right, it’s nothing it’s…I still haven’t really woken up yet. Thank you, for…basically sorting my life out while I slept the morning away. You didn’t have to do that though, you’ve probably been under more stress, being on the run than I have doing an internship.”

“An internship with the FBI who have no idea about werewolves when you know pretty much everything there is to know about the supernatural sounds pretty stressful to me,” Derek offered lightly, glancing out the window and down at the city thoughtfully for a moment. He seemed to be struggling for the best way to phrase whatever it was that was on his mind, but then, Stiles supposed he hadn’t had much in the way of company the last few weeks.

He knew Derek had been with Braeden briefly, then Cora, then on his own when his life had turned upside down again. And there was a lightness to Derek’s face this morning that Stiles thought mirrored his own. Like last night had been the first time he’d slept well in a long time too. He looked more at ease than Stiles had ever seen him in his entire life and he was technically still a wanted fugitive.

Dragging his hand through his hair again to distract from his wandering thoughts as best he could, Stiles hobbled into the kitchen area properly and shoved the last two slices of bread into the toaster. Hmmm. He’d have to get some groceries. His foot was throbbing though.

“I have to report to work via video conference later, since I can’t really walk much.” He glanced to the crutches the hospital had given him on loan for a couple of weeks and tried to imagine scaling the insane amount of stairs he had to climb everyday. He’d probably end up with a broken neck. Luckily he had loads of paperwork, which he was good at and didn’t mind doing. They’d probably let him do it from home for a few days, if only so they didn’t have to do it.

His efficiency with the paperwork was probably a big part of why they liked him so much, since most of his classmates tried to beg out of it. But his single-minded concentration that came with his ADHD, as much as it was easing as he got older, was a godsend apparently. When it was a subject he had interest in, i.e. his job, he was like a machine.

“Can I stay?”

Stiles turned slightly to look at Derek, still staring out the window at the grey sky. “Until things are sorted out with the FBI. Can I stay?”

He sounded warm and awkward and almost longing, voice a little husky and Stiles swallowed tightly.

“Dude, stay as long as you want. You’re always welcome. Mi casa, es su casa, always. You don’t have to ask.”

Derek looked at him at last, lips slightly parted as if he were going to say more. In the end, his mouth closed and he nodded determinedly.

Work was pretty gracious about his request to work from home. He had reports to type up and some other paperwork to keep him busy for the rest of the week at least. Plus he was entitled to some medical leave if he couldn’t walk easily. Besides that, they were thrilled that one of their unsolved cases seemed to be coming to a close because of ‘his help’.

Rafael McCall had apparently planted the necessary evidence into the system to connect the guys they caught at the raid the other day to the murders Derek (although the FBI didn’t know his identity) was accused of. One of them with similar build to Derek had even sustained serious burns to his back during the raid, which Stiles had reasoned could be where the suspected tattoo was that they’d used to identify the unsub they were looking for. It was the idiot’s own fault really, for being an immortal hunter who murdered countless people, for packing a flamethrower and trying to turn it on the FBI.

Stiles had zero sympathy for people who wielded fire. Maybe it was just because he had seen what fire could do in the Hale house, on Peter Hale’s face before he’d healed himself. It was a dick move. Even if he’d technically done it himself once, he supposed.

So it all tidied up nicely, really and by the time the video call had ended, Stiles was sure Rafael had managed to erase any evidence with anything similar to Derek’s face or body. He should’ve felt bad using the guy, he supposed. But he’d never claimed to have scrupulous morals and besides which, it was Scott’s idea to ask for his help in the first place.

Daddy McCall had infinite favours to do before he could make it up to Scott, Stiles supposed. But in the mean time, as long as Scotty approved, he would use Rafael McCall’s powers for good and maybe the guy would get his head out of his ass along the way.

He’d shot a text to both McCalls, one a curt message of thanks, the other assuring Derek should be safe as soon as they were sure the guys they caught were going to stay caught. The only problem was, Derek had snuck out while he’d been on his conference call. He’d noticed mid-conversation with his boss and so hadn’t been able to act on it. The second the call came to a close, however, he shut the laptop and sprang up. Snatching his phone up, he dialled.

The phone rang and rang. Stiles was already toeing a shoe onto his good foot and reaching for his crutches when he heard the jingling of keys outside his door. He stopped dead at the sound, looking up just as the door opened. Derek stepped inside, arms loaded with brown paper grocery bags. He blinked at Stiles’s proximity to the door, as if surprised and neatly side-stepped him to set the grocery bags down on the kitchen floor.

“Where the hell have you been?” Stiles demanded.

Derek raised a brow, pausing in loading fresh fruit and vegetables into the fridge drawer. His expression said it all.

With a scowl, Stiles gestured to the front door. “For the next few hours you’re still potentially on their system as most wanted, Derek. You can’t just go for a walk around Sacramento.”

“Stiles, you have a grocery store around the corner – literally. I was in there for ten minutes. I wore your Mets cap. I kept a low profile – I know how to do that, I’m very practiced at it.”

Stiles hesitated. “You went to the rich people supermarket?” That was the only grocery store on his block. Sometimes Stiles hit it up on payday for their luxury cookie range when Lydia came to visit.

Rolling his eyes, Derek continued to load the groceries into the fridge and cupboards. It was all so domestic, the scene, the bickering and it made Stiles feel sort of funny.

“Nobody noticed me. There was no way you could manage the groceries on your own and you hopping around on crutches and fighting me over who was going to foot the bill would’ve made more of a scene that me going in alone.”

“Dude, I can be stealthy and I don’t need you to fill my fridge–”

“You do if I’m going to eat all your food,” Derek interrupted, tossing the paper bags into the recycling bin before turning to face him. His nostrils flared and he stared Stiles down for a long moment before shaking his head. “Sometimes you need help too, Stiles,” he breathed, exasperated and fond all at once.

Stiles swallowed thickly, darting his gaze to the side. He didn’t even like accepting his dad’s help at the best of times. With Lydia and Scott, loved them though he did, they had their own stuff going on and he couldn’t ask for their help either. Or he could but he didn’t want to. It was easier just to struggle through. And yet Derek was standing there, watching him expectantly, with that mixture of softness and annoyance on his face and Stiles didn’t want to reject the symbolic hand he’d been trying to grasp since he was sixteen. That had often come close but had never felt within his reach until now.

A sudden buzz on his intercom for the front door made Stiles jump.

“I also ordered Chinese,” Derek smirked, “think you can manage to get the door?”

Stiles muttered under his breath at the indignation of it, but still buzzed the delivery guy in.

“You don’t have to bribe me with food to let you stay,” Stiles said as they set the take-out boxes on the minute counter space a few minutes later. It smelled so good that the argument Stiles had been forming in his mind dissipated in the delicious smelling steam rising from the boxes. “You’re welcome here, even after your name is cleared for a bit, if you want.”

Derek huffed as he split the contents of each dish out equally. Because Stiles may have been human but he had the appetite of a wolf. “Nice to know, but this isn’t a bribe. It’s just something I want to do. Don’t make a big deal out of it, okay?”

Feeling like he was getting some of his equilibrium back, Stiles grinned. “Isn’t this like…a courting ritual, a wolf sharing food or providing food?”

“Shut up, Stiles,” Derek barked, ears flaming. He snatched the bowls out of Stiles’s hand and carried all of them over to the sofa so Stiles couldn’t hop across with them and, most likely, risk sending it all to the floor.

Some old movie was on with Humphrey Bogart – Stiles’s mom and dad had liked watching his movies together so he left it on and they ate and Derek half-watched with a wistful little look on his face that made Stiles wonder if someone in his family had liked the movie too.

Stiles talked about Katherine Hepburn and how his mom had loved her, how she’d watched her movies with her mother. He talked about World War One’s impact on Africa and how he’d drifted off on a tangent about it in the middle of one of his papers about World War Two, and how his dad had just smiled quietly through the whole meeting with the teacher when he called his dad in about Stiles’s attention span. And through it all, Derek smiled slightly, that private little half-smile as he sucked noodles into his mouth and toed off his shoes in the middle of Stiles’s apartment. The apartment that Derek had cleaned and it just made Stiles feel so…warm. Comfortable. He’d never felt comfortable with someone and yet hyperaware of their every little movement at the same time.

Derek had polished off most of his chow mein and shifted back on the sofa a little as Hepburn dumped Bogart’s gin into the river, relaxing with Stiles until their knees touched.

Heat swelled in Stiles’s stomach and he covered up the little splutter he gave and distracted himself by chugging down some more noodles.

“I haven’t had good Chinese take-out since I moved up here,” he sighed happily, licking the sauce from his lips. He turned to Derek more fully then and swore he caught those eyes dropping to the movement of his tongue and back again. Huh. “I’ll sleep on the couch tonight. We can alternate–”

“You’re injured–”

“And you’re a guest,” Stiles protested but Derek just shrugged, looking back to the TV.

“The couch is comfortable enough when I shift, and plenty warm. It’s fine, I’m not turfing you out of your own bed Stiles and that’s the end of it.”

Stiles’s tenacity was sidetracked by curiosity. He set his now empty plate down, sitting back a little to let his leg stretch out and relieve any pressure on his throbbing foot. He’d had medication with his food and it was starting to kick in. “Do you always shift when you sleep or is my couch just that uncomfortable?”

“It’s fine, Stiles,” Derek half-groaned, polishing off his rice now, thumb tracing the edge of the plate distractedly. He stared at the screen without really seeing it. His silence only lasted a moment longer than it should have, but Stiles noticed. He noticed everything, he noticed the way Derek was still relaxed next to him, not uncomfortable at their proximity, the way his mouth had a slight shine from his tongue and the way the light struggling to peak through the clouds touched his cheekbones.

“I don’t shift in my sleep a lot. But it’s…it’s like letting go, I guess. A release of tension.”

Stiles nodded. “It feels good. Like sinking into a hot bath or eating really good food. It lets you process stuff?” he suggested and when Derek nodded his own lips twitched. He couldn’t help himself. “So that’s why you’re so zen now, huh? You’re one with the wolf and the wolf is one with you?”

But Derek didn’t laugh, didn’t really seem to register the joke, he looked hesitant, oddly vulnerable even as he was obviously trying to guard himself. “I can control it. If it bothers you.”

“Nah, you do you. Just don’t shed on my sheets or anything.”

With a scowl, Derek watched as Stiles snatched the last prawn cracker out of the complimentary bag between them. “I do not shed. I’m a werewolf, not a dog.” But there was that fond exasperation again that made Stiles a bit giddy. It made him feel stupid and hungry and happy and brave and scared all at once.

He drummed his fingers nervously along his thighs as he chewed and swallowed, and then of course his mouth moved of its own volition.

“Thanks, by the way. For…you know, last night. Taking the pain? And, well…you know, I…” He looked at Derek for some sort of clue, because Derek hadn’t mentioned last night and Stiles was almost half-convinced it’d been a dream. That was until he saw the way Derek’s eyes were molten and so, so close.

Stiles gave a nervous, breathy little laugh. “You’re better than that crap the hospital gave me.”

Considering him for a beat, Derek seemed to scan every inch of Stiles’s face. “Probably not half as addictive anyway.”

Stiles wasn’t entirely sure about that.

He spent the rest of the day doing his paperwork while Derek seemed quite content to alternate between reading one of Stiles’s books, flicking through the TV and messaging Cora on his phone.

It felt like they’d always shared this, comfortable and easy and gravitating around each other. When Stiles finally went to turn in, he found himself hesitating. His hand rested lightly on the bookshelf as he turned back to look at Derek, who was curled up under Stiles’s blanket that he snuggled up under on the couch on the colder evenings. For once in his life though, words failed him and after too long staring at Derek on the couch, all he could say was “goodnight Derek,” before heading into the bathroom.

His head was buzzing as he watched his reflection scrub his teeth, eyes too bright and face a little pink. Because it felt like everything he’d thought he’d imagined between them, once Derek had left them in Mexico, had just picked right back up where they’d left off. The easiness, those little half smiles that made something twist deep in his belly. He spat into the sink and splashed his face and throat with cool water to try and compose himself. Then he turned on the extractor, just in case there was some whiff of Stiles’s emotions or whatever in there.

It took another forty-eight hours before he got the short, not quite curt phone call from Rafael McCall saying Derek’s appearance was officially off the FBI’s radar (and unofficially off their records completely, as if it’d never been). But Derek stayed. He watched Stiles as he finished the call and then as he hung up, he held his gaze as he asked simply, voice warm and almost husky, “can I stay?”

Stiles wasn’t even thinking about the way Derek kept his apartment clean and his laundry done as he said, “as long as you want.” He thought about the fact that they liked the same cheesy old movies, that Derek liked to curl up with Stiles on his modest couch in the evening to read, while their feet pretty much touched under the blanket because the apartment was still a touch too cold, but not cold enough to turn the heating on yet.

He thought about their bickering and the way he liked to listen to Derek breathing as he drifted off. But mostly he thought about the way Derek had looked at him in Mexico, as he’d gotten into that car.

Now he was as safe as he was going to be, Derek used his modest little rental car to give Stiles a ride to work, saving him from struggling on the crutches all the way there. There were lifts in the actual building so it wasn’t so bad and Stiles’s life returned to a new sort of normal, but one where Derek picked him up after work. Where, when Stiles was poring over something for work on his laptop, Derek went out for a run and came back sweaty and breathless, or brought home the fresh doughnuts from the bakery a few blocks away until Stiles sang his praises through a mouthful of delicious warm sugar and cinnamon.

Stiles’s toe was healed enough that he could walk without the crutches in record time (if he was careful), so he soon started walking to work. But his heart still skipped a little when he walked out of his work building one evening to see Derek leaning against one of the fountains, just across from the glass doors.

“Hey,” Stiles breathed, feeling warm at the sight of him. He stayed late, he always did and Derek knew that but he’d still waited. Only a few of his fellow interns walk passed, looking interested. Stiles watched as Derek cleared his throat, ducking his head a little as if embarrassed and wondered what they were whispering to put that look on his face. Stiles had to know, but Derek gave no clues of course.

“So there’s a sale on at the furniture place just on the edge of town. I was thinking, you know, if you wanted to stay for a while longer, we could pick up a decent sofa bed? Give you a bit more space to sleep? Because honestly, there’s barely enough room on that thing for me to sleep on and you’re just a tad broader in the shoulders.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Derek assured him as they walked and Stiles knew a little prickle of disappointment. Because of course Derek wouldn’t be staying forever.

“Yeah,” he offered, running a hand through his hair, eyes on the sidewalk. “You’re probably so ready for a bit more space. I mean my apartment is a bit small for a werewolf–”

“It’s not too small,” Derek cut across him, sounding as confused as he looked when Stiles glanced at his face. “There’s nothing wrong with it, Stiles. I only meant that I’m fine where I am. My family spent half our time sleeping out on the porch in the summer, or camping out in the living room in front of the fire. I don’t need a fancy bed or a bigger apartment. I asked you if I could stay because it felt right.” He looked as if that was a bit more than he wanted to say and quickly looked back to the path ahead, waiting at the crosswalk in silence.

Derek was pretty poor at self-care, always had been, worse than Stiles’s dad, really, but outside of the life or death situations that came with Beacon Hills, he’d never gone along with anything he didn’t want to do. If he wasn’t happy where he was, he’d tell Stiles so, or leave.

It wasn’t until they’d crossed the road and started round the corner that Stiles spoke again, mind grasping at the tangent he was spinning onto. “You’ve never really mentioned your family much, except for the essential stuff,” he couldn’t stop himself from saying.

“It’s easier to talk about the little things,” he shrugged, “I guess I’ve gotten used to talking about some things. When I spent time with Cora, she’d like to hear about them all the time. Everything I could remember. She was younger, didn’t really remember some of it. Not the good things.”

Stiles nodded, wondering how much of the good stuff he would’ve remembered about his mom if his dad hadn’t been there to refresh those memories.

“Is that like…your new anchor now or something?” When Derek looked confused, he continued, “just…your anchor was anger, wasn’t it? Only you’re not angry anymore, you seem…well you seem pretty amazing, if you ask me.”

He hated how fast his heart beat. The way Derek’s eyes flicked to him as if he’d heard. He probably had. Probably knew it wasn’t because Stiles had lied either.

“Not really. It hasn’t been anger for a long time. I can’t really pinpoint when, it’s not something that happens suddenly. It’s a gradual thing.”

Like grieving, like healing, like fighting beside someone everyday and missing them and only realising after they barrelled back into your life that you were falling in love.

It took Stiles a beat to realise his mind was drifting and Derek was still talking.

“…suppose I found myself in a situation, where someone was talking to me, maybe something I didn’t like, and I’d think…what would Stiles do?” Derek looked at him then, pausing on the sidewalk outside Stiles’s building and staring into his eyes with that wistful look.

Stiles’s stomach swooped and his head spun, even as Derek continued to talk.

“Of course, you’d always say something stupid or random–”

“Dude, you know me so well,” Stiles interjected, a little breathlessly, but Derek continued.

“–but whatever it was I felt…more focussed.”

The chilly evening air whipped around them, picking up a little now and Stiles exhaled shakily, breath coming out in the lightest of mists between them.

Unbidden, the memory of being in the back of that van, with Derek and Liam came to him. Derek, trying to teach Liam to control his shift, both of them trying to tell him about anchors, about his focus. Back then, Derek had given him a look that Stiles had assumed was surprise at Stiles’s keen observations about werewolves and their anchors. Now he thought it had been a betrayal of a much more personal secret.

He tried to think back further, tried to think about their random text message thread over the last year, where Stiles had annoyed Derek as much as ever but Derek had always replied back. He thought about Scott and Allison, about Malia and him, the friendship their once-relationship had blossomed into. He thought about Jackson and Lydia and then he just stared at Derek as his scrambled thoughts fizzed out into quiet realisation. Like water rising up the bank where he’d camped with his assumptions of the world, until the flame he’d resigned himself to nurture there was swallowed up by the tide.

For just a moment, he felt like he was treading water again, only this time Derek was kickingback alongside him.

“You…you never said,” Stiles managed at last.

Derek stepped closer, the traffic going by, the glow of the streetlights and those of the business signs and windows all around blurred and inconsequential. It all wrapped around them in a flurry of sound and movement that fell away, as if they stood in the eye of the rush hour traffic’s storm, serene and untouched by the world as it passed on by. Stiles could feel the warmth radiating off of Derek and thought longingly of the solitude of the apartment above.

His tiny apartment that he loved but had also been a bit self-concious of. But now he supposed he knew why Derek loved it so much.

“It wasn’t…I didn’t…” Derek set his jaw, looking annoyed with himself. “I didn’t want you to expect anything from it. You were seventeen and I was…I was messed up, Stiles.”

Stiles glared. “I’m messed up. We’re all messed up, Derek, anyone who the Argents or the Nemeton or that goddamn town touched is messed up. What did you think I would like…jump you or demand a promise ring or something?!”

Exhaling impatiently, Derek shook his head. “I’d been on the run my whole life, Stiles and by the time I realised what was letting me keep my control, it’d all caught up with me at once.”

At that moment, Stiles thought of that Dire Straits song his dad loved, and that line, ‘When you gonna realise it was just that the time was wrong’ and he thought about what had happened. Probably happened anyway, if he could trust Peter’s story about Derek’s first love, and then his knowledge of what had happened not long after with Kate Argent. He thought about what that would mean for Derek, and how even a diminutive age gap with someone not quite of age would matter more to him than a lot of people. He thought about how angry and scared Derek had been when they’d seen him in the woods that day, when they’d been looking for Scott’s inhaler, and the man who stood before him now. He thought about the journey Derek had taken himself on after Mexico to get here.

Suddenly, the door to the apartment building opened and one of Stiles’s neighbours smiled apologetically as she stepped out onto the street between them and headed off down the sidewalk. The moment broken, Stiles shuddered as the chill crept down his neck and Derek tilted his head slightly, assessing him for an extended moment, before urging him inside.

They ate carbonara in front of the TV with Derek’s choice of a British series called Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell, which Stiles felt a bit lost with, mostly because he wasn’t paying attention. He kept finding himself humming Romeo and Juliet without meaning to. This was so domestic. He couldn’t help but notice just how domestic it was and at the same time revel in it. Revel in the comfort of it and the tiny hope that maybe, if Derek had told him all this now, then that might mean this time he intended to stay.

Derek washed the dishes and Stiles dried, before excusing himself to the shower, if only for some space to process everything. Washing off the office was always cathartic too though, even if you did love your job. He dragged his hand across the surface of the steamy mirror as he roughly towelled his hair dry.

He couldn’t begrudge Derek his need for space or to process shit by himself after everything he’d been through after Mexico. He’d not exactly vanished off the face of the earth, except for the weeks he was on the run and understandably too busy for their usual text message sparring. There were so many things he wanted to ask, so many things he wanted to tell Derek and he wasn’t sure where to begin.

But amongst all that, among the repeated verses of Romeo and Juliet that just would not get out of his head now, he couldn’t help but keep coming back to the same question. If Derek had told him now, was that because it was okay for Stiles to expect something? Or…maybe not expect but…to want? Did Derek want?

Everything was still a blur when he opened the bathroom door, steam furling out around him – around Derek, who was standing right outside the door, in the narrow walkway between Stiles’s bed and the bathroom wall. There was nowhere to hide. Stiles was wearing his sweats and t-shirt and Derek was barefoot right next to his bed and the narrow space brought them so close Stiles could feel his heat. He was so perilously close and there were so many things he wanted to say.

He had plenty of time to say them.

Later.

Suddenly, there was nothing more important than showing this imperfect, verbally challenged man exactly how he felt. He stepped forward, effectively closing the minute space between them, exhaling in an unsteady breath as his eyes traced the shape of Derek’s mouth. His hands slid up Derek’s neck. As he cupped his jaw, as he traced his thumbs across the soft bristles on Derek’s cheekbones, Derek’s eyes slid closed as if the pleasure in it was almost unbearable.

It was like Derek shuddered without the movement of it and his hands, broad and so warm and gentle, slid up Stiles’s back, chasing the damp chill from his shower and leaving prickling bursts of heat in his wake. Derek tipped his head to press his forehead to Stiles’s, breathing deeply as he held Stiles close.

Stiles’s hands cupped the back of Derek’s neck, fingers threading through his short hair and Derek made a low sound like a groan deep in his chest.

“When I watched you get into that car, I felt like I lost something I never even really had,” Stiles murmured into the scant inch between their mouths. Derek’s hands slid warm up over the goosebumps on his back. He dragged his nose down the side of Stiles’s, across his cheek and jaw and chin, all without opening his eyes.

Even with his heart screaming in negation, Stiles drew back, just enough to turn them, so Derek’s back was to the bathroom and Stiles was standing in the gap beside the bed, using the shift in positions and minute space between them to say what he needed to. Derek’s eyes looked glossy and dark, considering Stiles with confusion, hands gripping his waist as he watched Stiles tried to find his words.

“I know why you had to go, then. But I really want you to stay now.”

Derek’s smile grew slowly, tentatively, but it dazzled him with its authenticity. He was still smiling when he started to lean in. Stiles wrapped his arms around his shoulders, the two of them pulling each other in close in tandem until their mouths slid together.

It was so sweet he felt himself sink into Derek at the same time that Derek pushed back. His bed had storage drawers underneath for his clothes so it was pretty high, high enough to scoot back onto and have Derek stand between his legs and just plaster the heat of his body against Stiles’s – all without their mouths separating. The slow press and caress of lips was like a question, like a request, like the shy affection of two people who had done this dance without even realising exactly what it meant until now and god, he didn’t expect Derek to be so soft.

They tilted their heads to press deeper and Derek dipped to nudge his jaw with his nose, graze the corner of his mouth with his lips until Stiles’s skin tingled pleasantly from his beard. It was like werewolf scenting and human kissing mixed up in a way that was purely just Derek until Stiles panted against his lips. He parted his lips slightly, shifting back and cupping Derek’s neck to take him with him until they were sprawled on the bed. The soft, warm shadowy place illuminated only by the glow from the lamp in the living area beyond the bookshelves.

The warmth they created between them lit Stiles up from the inside out. Derek rolled him on his double bed, tussling with him in his sheets. Stiles couldn’t help but think they must smell of them and that was maybe what was driving Derek crazy most of all. He tugged his shirt off between kisses, Derek catching his mouth the moment it passed over his head, pinning Stiles’s arms so they were still all caught up in the sleeves. He was ridiculous and perfect and making Stiles laugh at the awkwardness that felt so right. Derek’s answering chuckle against his lips and tongue was the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted.

“I’ve never heard you go this long without talking,” Derek mused as Stiles lifted his head to nip at his jaw, to scrape his lips across soft, scratchy hair and relishing in the slight burn.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Stiles mock-chided, struggling, flailing out of his t-shirt at last and smoothing his hands up Derek’s back, all tight smooth muscle. “Just your shirt?”

“Mmm.” It was nonsensical but Stiles only had a moment to wonder what it meant before Derek kissed him with bruising force and drew back. He tugged his shirt off and dropping it somewhere near the end of the bed.

There wasn’t a moment of worship or godlike awe. Stiles didn’t doubt Derek had had his fair share of experiences like that. Stiles was too desperate for him to gape and gawk. He caught Derek’s shoulders and tugged him back down to him the moment his shirt was off, holding him close, bare skin sliding together hotly. Stiles’s hands gripped at his impossible shoulders and the small of his back in little spasms, wanting him everywhere, dipping between their bodies to stroke over his chest and stomach until Derek’s abs shuddered against his fingers. He groaned against Stiles’s mouth, bracing himself over Stiles’s head with his forearms, letting him touch everywhere and hold him close.

Stiles grinned against him, before nuzzling back into his cheek and wrapping his arms around him again completely.

He squeezed, pushing a little to roll them again until they were on their sides. Derek’s hands slid down his back so slowly, holding him, one hand sliding into his hair to cup his head so, so gently. Stiles nuzzled him again, just under his jaw and Derek pressed his nose into Stiles’s hair. They were both mostly hard and that was fine for now. This was what they both needed.

At some point as they lay tangled together, Stiles started to drift. He found himself half-over Derek, still wrapped in his arms in a messy sprawl but with the blankets over him now, warm and close and breathing only Derek in.

“You smell amazing,” Stiles mumbled, half-asleep. Derek’s chest jumped slightly under his hand with mostly silent laughter. He felt him press into his hairline sleepily, not as chaste as a kiss to his forehead, somehow more intimate in a way that sent little tendrils down Stiles’s spine.

“You feel amazing.”

Stiles muttered something about them not even being started yet but it was mostly smothered by his mouth smooshed against Derek’s shoulder and he definitely heard Derek say something about Stiles drooling. Stiles thought he fell asleep before he’d even finished laughing.

He was in that blissful place that wasn’t quite sleeping, just drifting pleasantly in relaxed consciousness. The calm tranquillity of someone just awoken, slowly drifting down to reality like a feather on a soft, warm breeze. There was something tickly nuzzling into the hollow of his neck. He groaned, stretching his limbs under the heavy blanket of heat, his arms coming up instinctively to wrap around broad shoulders and stroke clumsily until he cupped the back of Derek’s neck.

Derek was half-kissing, half burrowing into his neck and shoulder. He was only half awake himself, it seemed, and urging them both out of slumber in what Stiles thought was actually just the most fantastic way imaginable. Actually, he wasn’t sure even his imagination could come up with something this good. He felt his neck throb, as if Derek had been at it for a while and he squirmed. He tugged gently on Derek’s hair until Derek nosed across his adam’s apple and down to the opposite side of his neck to worry him there, just beneath where his collar would sit – if he ever put a shirt on again.

After a blissful eternity just lying warm and content under soft caresses, under Derek’s weight, held off him just enough by Derek’s arms either side of his head, he started to roll his hips into Derek’s soft, diminutive motions like a question again.

Derek lifted his head then, eyes glazed and dark and beautiful, hair sleep-mussed. Stiles was struck with how beautiful and soft he looked, asking for his silent consent. In answer, Stiles tilted his head and slanted their mouths together and rocked up against him until they were pressed together where they were both hard. They moved like that for a while, unhurried and lazy and perfect.

It was early morning and Stiles thought distractedly that he was going to be Derek’s workout that morning. He chuckled into Derek’s mouth and gripped Derek’s ass to pull their hips tighter together. It was firm and perfect and Derek went with it, with a little almost-growl, rutting into him even as Stiles clumsily tugged their sweats down, only just enough to bring their cocks together. He panted, tearing his mouth away from Derek’s to look down and watch them grinding together, both straining and hard and sticky.

Derek pushed up on one arm, the other coming down to hold them both together. The flat of his thumb danced under Stiles’s head as he stroked and Stiles shuddered, stomach quivering. He gripped Derek’s wrist, but not to stop him. He pressed his head back hard into the pillows as he fucked up into his hand.

He blinked bleary-eyed up at Derek, who was watching him through lust-blown eyes, half-lidded with thick lashes. Stiles grunted as he wrapped his arms around his shoulders again, holding onto him, rolling up into him even as Derek pushed back. They were just carried off fast and hard, as sudden and swift as Stiles’s heart beat and Stiles came in thick stripes between them. Hungry and shocked, he reached down to stroke them both as well, clumsy and urgent until Derek’s heat splashed over his own release before he’d even recovered himself.

He was shaking, he was pretty sure, still rocking as if he couldn’t help himself, even though he was sensitive. Derek kissed him everywhere like he was the most precious thing he’d ever seen – sweaty and mussed up and completely gone, drunk on Derek.

Derek had nice arms, Stiles thought dazedly, not for the first or last time. Those oh so nice arms scooped him up and held him close, sheets still tangled around them. Together, they fall into that soft, dreamy place that Stiles just realised only lazy morning sex could bring.

“Did you love me before I was your anchor?” he asked sleepily against Derek’s mouth sometime later. Derek liked to touch his nose to Stiles’s a lot, to drag it over his cheek and the corner of his lips so they lay at the same level mostly, on Stiles’s favourite pillow he’d brought from home that he couldn’t sleep without.

Derek opened his eyes then, hand warm on Stiles’s hip and he looked freer than Stiles had ever seen him.

“I think there was always something, an understanding or–”

“A spark?” Stiles mused.

Derek rolled his eyes but his lips were quirked in a little smile as well. “If you like. I can’t pinpoint when it changed exactly, it just…I started to change. And when I was stuck in that desert, I dreamed about you – I only dreamed about you, Stiles, and that’s when I knew.”

Stiles studied him closely in the muted light. “That I was your anchor?”

“Yes,” Derek said softly, so openly. “And I was messed up then, we both were and the timing wasn’t right, and you were seventeen and part of me felt like I’d never really stopped being sixteen but I knew that somewhere along the way, you’d become the most important thing to me.”

Stiles stroked his face. Derek was getting laugh lines around his eyes, and they were the most perfect thing he’d ever seen.

“I think I fell in love with you when you were hiding out in my room all that time from the sheriff’s department, even if I didn’t really understand what it meant.”

He still wasn’t sure he understood it entirely now, but they had plenty of time to figure it out.

He leaned in this time, bringing their mouths together just a split-second before his phone buzzed. No, Derek’s phone buzzed in the living room. They ignored it at first, then it started vibrating frantically, signalling a phone call in silent mode and Derek huffed in annoyance before hopping out of bed. He pulled up his sweats as he went, but not before Stiles got a glorious glimpse of that perfect ass. He couldn’t wait to see more of it.

As Derek answered, he stumbled into the bathroom and ran a washcloth under warm water, sponging himself down and wringing it out to take out to Derek, but as he turned, he found Derek in the doorway, phone still to his ear, a worried look on his face. Or a worried scowl at any rate.

“What sort of trouble?” Derek said to the person on the phone.

Stiles didn’t have super-hearing, but the apartment was quiet and Derek’s phone was loud enough that he heard a woman’s voice on the phone. Cora?

“You’re telling me that their whole pack was destroyed?” His tone was difficult to read and Stiles wasn’t sure if Derek was summarising Cora’s words for Stiles’s benefit, or just simply floundering in disbelief. Because Derek had just been on the run for months because hunters, the ones they’d helped the FBI catch, had annihilated an entire pack and somehow pinned the blame on Derek, who had stopped by to check it out at exactly the wrong time.

The second hit on a werewolf pack in less than six months was a bit of coincidence and usually hunters were a bit more circumspect about their attacks, even the crazy ones.

Genocide on a wider scale was harder to ignore.

Stiles glanced at his own phone through the doorway, sitting currently silent on his side table. His work may not be aware of it yet, or maybe they were, but interns weren’t privy to this sort of dangerous information – the kind of information that could start a wider scale of panic. There were people like Rafael all over the FBI and CIA, trying to keep the secrets of the supernatural world secret. They were either doing a really good job of it or the officials were being pretty secretive themselves.

Stiles wouldn’t have time to find out which it was. He just knew. Stepping closer, he pressed his ear close and Derek held the phone away from his ear slightly so they could both listen.

“They weren’t even careful about it Derek,” Cora’s voice said, sounding fast and afraid. “The pack I’m staying with are in contact with this one in Brazil everyday because they’re the alpha’s in-laws and communication completely stopped. When they sent some people to check it out, they were just…everyone is gone. It was a blood bath. A scale of attack no one could’ve defended against. We’re working on other packs, telling them to go underground, get into hiding so I can’t – I wouldn’t ask you, but you know there are kids in this pack I’m staying with, Derek, in some of these other packs we’re trying to get to safety and something huge is going on here and I need to know someone I trust is looking into it.”

Stiles swallowed thickly, hands shaking and Derek held his gaze, as still as stone. In the short time Stiles had known Cora, he’d never heard her this shaken and desperate. This was bad. They both seemed agreed on that.

“I’ll check it out. Send me the location,” Derek said.

“Just for reconnaissance,” Cora insisted, voice shaken but determined now. “You promise me, Derek. This isn’t a battle you can win alone. You stay out of sight, find information and get out.” When Derek didn’t reply she persisted more firmly, “you promise me.”

It was not a question.

Derek sighed and though his expression was tinged with worry, his eyes were soft and affectionate. Stiles had heard him talk about his time with Cora and the pack she was staying with fondly, so he thought they’d gone some ways to mend the fractures in their relationship. He couldn’t wait to find out more – once they got out of whatever mess was headed their way, because there was no question they were heading straight for it.

“I promise, Cora. I can be careful.”

Stiles swore he heard something like “yeah, now you can” muttered down the phone from Cora and he smirked in spite of himself.

“Don’t go alone. Are you still in contact with Chris Argent or Braedan? Or can Isaac meet you?”

“Isaac’s still in France, he’s…” Derek looked thoughtful. “He’s happy there, Cora. He’s got a whole life.”

“Argent or Braeden then,” Cora said impatiently, more like a mother than a sister. “You can’t go alone.”

Derek straightened a little then, staring directly into Stiles’s eyes without any reservations and with meaning so much more significant than his simple words suggested. “Don’t worry, I’ve got back up.”

They had to get a flight to Brazil. Luckily there was space on the next flight out with only one stop over and Stiles was thrumming with nerves the whole time.

On the last leg, Derek laid a hand over his on the arm rest to still his twitching fingers when it looked like the woman in the window seat next to them was about to kill Stiles.

He wondered if it were possible that Derek could anchor him as well as the other way around, because after that he did actually manage to get some sleep. He didn’t know then just how much he would need it.

The next seventy-odd hours of Stiles’s life were non-stop. He wasn’t even sure he could process it correctly for days, weeks, months after, but somehow, while they were checking the wide area the murdered pack had claimed as territory, he and Derek had gotten split up. The ‘hunting party’ that’d attacked the pack had disbanded but some were still in the nearby town and some, Derek had apparently found at the scene of the crime. All of course, while Stiles got into trouble with the former.

Stiles wasn’t even sure how but by the time Derek had met him back at their hotel, Stiles had already had most of the hunters he’d encountered taken in by local law enforcement as suspects and Derek…Derek had parked up out front in what Stiles was pretty sure was a stolen car.

“Oh my god!” Stiles declared more than gasped as he scrambled into the passenger seat. “Are you insane! There are Brazilian police all over this town now and you park up in a stolen car!”

Derek rolled his eyes. “It’s not reported as stolen, they didn’t live long enough to make the call.”

Stiles scowled, scanning the street anxiously but the police that’d made the arrests were gone with their charges now and those that’d been left to clear the scene still seemed to be inside.

“Dude, where have you been?! You were meant to be back hours ago!”

Pulling back out into the street with all the calmness of a man out on a morning stroll, Derek made the turn at the junction toward the airport. “I was a bit caught up. I text you as soon as I could.” Before Stiles could do much more than process that the fact that he himself had also not really had time to check his phone, Derek added wryly, “Looks like you’ve been pretty busy too.” His eyes followed the three police vans they passed, currently transporting their suspects to the local jail.

They might not stay there, Stiles’s dad had been brief and distracted when he’d put Stiles in contact with someone trustworthy in Brazil. He was probably working on a big case himself as he was very hasty to get Stiles off the phone, so Stiles still wasn’t sure exactly how much Detective Silvos, who’d helped Stiles get these guys nailed down, knew about the supernatural. He hadn’t really blinked at Stiles’s vague and suspicious story though. Not when Stiles’s dad had spoken to him on the phone.

He also hadn’t asked Stiles to give him his address or contact details or to stay in town while the investigation continued, which was standard even in another country, of that he was sure.

He had the nagging suspicion somehow his dad was involved in this, which was impossible, surely? How could he be involved in a hit on werewolves in Brazil and Mexico that were somehow linked?

And why weren’t Lydia or Scott answering their damn phones?!

He stared at Derek then and the sight he made. “Is that your blood? Dude,” he hurriedly stripped off his outer shirt for Derek to put on when they reached the airport. They did not need that kind of attention.

Derek set his teeth. “Get your phone out and book us on the next flight out of Brazil.”

Stiles studied him carefully for a moment before digging in his pocket for his phone. “Sacramento flights are–”

“Not Sacramento,” Derek cut across him, focussed solely on the road ahead, as if he dared not let his mind drift back to whatever he’d left behind.

Watching his face in profile carefully, Stiles waited for Derek to explain or clarify what he meant exactly. But the haunted look in Derek’s eyes as the street lights flashed by made the uneasiness at the back of his mind settle heavily in the pit of his stomach. “Derek?”

“Book the fastest route to Beacon County airport,” he said at last, casting Stiles a little sideways glance.

Of course whatever crap was going on here was leading them back to Beacon Hills, the place they’d both tried so hard to escape. Stiles was so getting his dad a job somewhere in Sacramento because his life expectancy was definitely going to go up with that move. He shot his dad a text to check in as he pulled up the flights options.

It was night when they landed in Beacon County Airport after a long two stop flight and the taxi they took from there dropped them off at the Stiles’s house. An uncomfortable sense of foreboding filled him when they found that his dad wasn’t there. Even as Stiles felt his panic sky-rocketing, even as he dialled his dad’s cell and the line rang and rang, Derek stood poised on the threshold of the front door, listening to the cool, quiet night.

Stiles watched him, knowing, just knowing somehow that he was picking up on something Stiles couldn’t have a hope of sensing.

“They’re in trouble – we’ve got to go,” Derek said quickly. Stiles snatched the Jeep’s keys off the rack in the hall. He hoped that the fact that Scott had left the Jeep here meant his dad was with him, or at least protected somehow.

“Your driving will get us pulled over in five seconds, we want to avoid attention not get shot off the road by the anti-werewolf militia,” Stiles said as he shut the front door behind them and darted for the Jeep. Because his brain had been working overtime on both flights and he was starting to put it all together now.

He thought as he pulled his seatbelt on and Derek wrenched open the passenger door with distaste, that Derek was about to argue, but then he stiffened as if he’d heard something, eyes going wide and he jumped in.

“Drive,” he barked, before he’d even closed his door.

Stiles floored it, going five over the speed limit the whole way despite the way Derek was braced forward in his seat and scowling at the rate of movement.

“Look, if they see us speeding down the street it’s going to draw even more attention than a werewolf running down it,” Stiles snapped, heart pounding, mind racing as he thought of his dad, of Scott and Lydia and everyone else.

Scott hadn’t had time for specifics it seemed, hadn’t even had time to finish the phone call properly or reply to Stiles’s messages. Stiles wondered if his phone had been caught in the crossfire again, it wouldn’t be the first time.

Derek rolled down the passenger window roughly using the lever and glared at Stiles as if daring him to make a dog comment as he inhaled the sharp night air.

“Turn right,” he barked and the Jeep protested loudly as Stiles jerked the steering hard.

“Put your seatbelt on,” Stiles snapped and Derek turned his head to level him with a withering look. Stiles wasn’t deterred. “It still hurts if you fly through the windshield doesn’t it? Now don’t lean too far out of the window or a streetlamp will take your head clean off, fido.”

He had the brief, glancing thought that it was good their bickering banter hadn’t changed. That, and that they made a pretty good team. He only hoped their success of the last few days, weeks really, was going to hold true for whatever they were getting themselves into now. It was Beacon Hills, after all.

Derek helped him follow Scott’s trail toward an industrial site and as Stiles pressed harder on the gas, even he heard the sounds of gunfire. His stomach dropped and he and Derek locked gazes briefly. He saw his own worry etched into Derek’s expression and swallowed the bile rising in his throat.

“Blood?” he breathed, not wanting to know.

“Not Scott’s. Not the pack’s, I don’t think but…” he frowned then and stiffened in his seat, grabbing for the door handle. “Keep going. Put your foot down.” With that, he leapt out of the door, landing easily on his feet.

Stiles swore, glancing repetitively in the wing mirror only to see Derek quickly keep speed alongside the passenger window, pushing the door shut hard.

A stream of gunfire pinged down from one of the rooftops to their left.

“Snipers!” Stiles shouted and Derek snarled, leaping onto the nearest structure and scaling the concrete, up and out of sight.

Ahead of him, Stiles could see the conflict now, a force of guns flashing in the dark, aiming for a barely covered alcove with wide open arches and he knew, just knew this was them. The militia that were trying to kill everyone he cared about. Maybe they even had? One man side-stepped out of the shadow of the building they were targeting, position prime for fire and Stiles knew without thinking the guy was preparing a kill-shot.

He floored the gas and slammed into him, sending the guy skidding forward with a crunch. Panting hard, Stiles turned out the still open window and saw Scott staring at him from his crouched position behind a pillar.

“You didn’t think you were doing this without me, did ya?” Stiles called out, a little breathless but with a wave of relief filling him at seeing Scott alive.

“Without us?” Derek added as he came up alongside the Jeep once more, evidently having disposed of the snipers that had sidetracked him. Movement just ahead, of more gunmen rounding the corner caught his eye though and his eyes flashed, fangs extending as he leapt forward.

If Stiles hadn’t been head over heels for him before, he sure would’ve been then. Because Derek wasn’t the same erratic, scared little kid in a man’s body. He was focussed, more dangerous and stronger now because of it. He may not have been an alpha but he was unstoppable. Maybe the others felt it too or perhaps their arrival had simply rallied their morale because he saw Malia move, saw Peter and for probably the first time, Stiles appreciated that they were wolves – a pack of wolves acting as one, all of them. He stood struck still as stone at the sight of them working together like a single force and didn’t really come back to himself until what was left of their enemy tore away with a screech of tyres.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about any of this, not a word not a single word,” he rounded on Lydia as the others moved toward…toward Deucalion, broken and limp on the floor.

“We had reasons, really good reasons,” Lydia muttered sheepishly, and as they moved, as Scott and the others focussed on Deucalion, she levelled him with a shrewd glare. “Why didn’t you tell me about Derek?” She challenged under her breath and Stiles wasn’t even sure how she’d known from just a glance, or if it’d only been a hunch that he’d confirmed with the full-facial flush he had absolutely no control over.

“Well that’s a…fairly recent development. Like…sort of shiny new…”

“Please, there’s nothing new about that,” Lydia scoffed under her breath.

He felt Derek tense as he came up behind them, Peter close by, Malia too and he wondered how much they had heard or if they’d been focussed on Deucalion’s last words.

“It’s already started, hasn’t it?” Malia asked.

Stiles frowned. How much had they missed here? “What’s started?”

“It’s an all out war,” Scott breathed, lifting his gaze from Deucalion to each of them in turn, as if confirming each and every member of his pack were unharmed after such a close call. An instinctive motion, Stiles thought, after years of running with wolves.

Stiles’s head was still spinning as Scott embraced Derek, relieved and glad to see him and so well, Stiles thought. Scott was the alpha but Derek represented a force of strength for Scott, a big brother figure and support that Scott didn’t have from anyone else. As they spoke, as Derek explained what had brought them there, Stiles suddenly found himself among all the conflicting feelings that had gripped him since they’d started heading back toward Beacon Hills.

Because their connection, this thing he and Derek had found together, their little den back in Sacramento felt so fresh, new and delicate like a bubble and whatever Beacon Hills touched, it fucked up. But standing there, watching Derek, watching Derek watch him with those soft eyes, he realised every inch of Derek was calm and collected. He was focussed because Stiles was there, anchoring him and whatever else happened, they were going to be okay.

“We found a pack slaughtered in Brazil, there were two words written on the wall, Beacon Hills.”

“You came back for Beacon Hills?” Scott asked, bemused.

“No,” Derek replied simply. “I came back for you.”

“We came back for you,” Stiles corrected.

Malia gave him a wry look. “Yeah, are ‘we’ going to explain that anytime soon?” Stiles honestly forgot how much she loved to tease him. He’d missed her, he’d missed all of them really and he felt a little giddy at the thought of sharing this happiness he’d found, this inner strength he’d cultivated, the person he’d become.

Derek moved to his side then, a subtle but distinctive movement. His eyes searching his, a smile touching the corners of his mouth as Stiles’s gaze dropped to it. It was like Derek felt invincible with Stiles beside him, and that knowledge was heady. The backs of Derek’s fingers brushed his where they hung limp at his side with such subtle, shy tenderness and yet Stiles’s stomach fluttered and he gave a nervous little laugh.

“Sure, we’ve got…stuff and you guys have stuff – a lot of stuff, actually. Huge stuff. But can we go somewhere with heat and light because I haven’t slept properly in like literal days and I’m freezing my ass off out here.”

Derek’s soft little burst of laughter, almost too quiet to hear, was a beautiful sound, a moment of calming clarity, like the last gulp of fresh air before diving into deep water. They had a war to win.

When the smoke cleared, when they had defeated the militia that had tried to wipe out anyone with supernatural blood, they stood together in the darkness.

Stiles watched Scott bring a freshly turned, freshly afraid werewolf into their protection, if not their fold. Watched the beginnings of their future unfold before them and for once he didn’t feel afraid. He glanced to Derek, who gave him that little quirk of a smile, saw his own future, as well as his pack and he couldn’t wait for the rest of his life to begin.

The Jeep couldn’t make the drive to Sacramento, so he left her back in Scott’s loving hands to drive the newbie back to the loft. Derek’s old apartment had been renovated by the pack into ‘pack ground zero’ and now housed quite a few of their newest recruits slash recues. Scott had only looked a little bit annoyed, mostly indulgent, when Stiles had called it ‘Scotty’s School for Gifted Youngsters’.

He climbed into the passenger seat of Derek’s Camaro, a new model, not the old classic that apparently Derek had left with Cora. Derek looked so good and Stiles wondered how much begging it’d take to get Derek to stop for a milkshake on the way home. He was guessing not much, Derek was pretty good at taking care of him. He’d even looked ready to take on their friends when they’d effectively outed themselves to everyone in Deaton’s clinic before the final showdown. It had been unnecessary though, as nobody seemed very surprised, except Scott, who bless his heart was oblivious about most things.

“Your dad gave me ‘the speech’ when you were loading the car earlier,” Derek mused as he pulled out onto the quiet main road. “It wasn’t exactly the ‘shotgun’ speech…”

Stiles cringed. “It wasn’t the safe sex speech either was it?”

Derek smirked. “It was more along the lines of, I’m glad it’s you and good luck you’re gonna need it.”

Stiles made a sound that was a mixture of outrage and amusement. “Oh my god, traitor! You guys are gonna gang up on me at Sunday dinners aren’t you?”

Derek’s quiet laughter caressed his ears as Beacon Hills fell away in a blur of twinkling lights into the darkness behind them. He reached out, stretching fingers across Derek’s denim-clad thigh and relaxed back into the seat, staring out at the road ahead where the headlights greeted the tarmac.

Derek’s fingers came down to cover his as he drove.

“Do you think another militia will pop up like that again?” Stiles asked after the lights of Beacon Hills had long since vanished behind them.

“I think it’s always possible. Hunters are still out there. People like Monroe are still out there,” Derek said thoughtfully. “But rumour is spreading, about the Beacon Hills pack, about the safety they provide, their strength. It makes anyone think twice about making an attack like that again, but it also means newly turned werewolves and people like them have somewhere to go instead of getting into trouble, instead of causing mayhem with powers they can’t control.”

Stiles nodded, “it actually helps to have so many people in the town in on the secret too, I guess. They’re like an extension of the pack.” Plus his dad had been elected sheriff again and he had never been more respected by the community. While that kept him rooted in Beacon Hills too for the foreseeable future, Stiles didn’t worry as much as he had before. The bitterness that had once tainted his connection to that town had dissipated somewhat, his bond with his hometown, with the pack stronger than before.

It was funny how it’d taken him and Derek finding each other, really finding each other to enable them to reconnect with the pack and the town the way they were meant to. They would always belong to Beacon Hills and the pack there, it would always be theirs, but what they had with each other was home. Home was wherever Stiles curled up next to Derek at night and the rest of the world was a better place outside because of that.

Stiles couldn’t even put his finger on why, exactly. He thought though, perhaps, that they’d both been two very capable but misguided kids. Two strangers that, for their own reasons, had been forced to learn to take care of themselves. And while they’d both managed fine, they hadn’t necessarily been good at it. They’d been drawn to each other from the start, had always known how to push each other’s buttons but also known that they were both missing something.

Now they were whole. Cracked, a little chipped here and there and definitely dented, but for all those flaws, they were together and complete.

They’d looked out for each other as allies in war, but now they looked after each other as partners, as equals. As the other’s most important thing, the anchor that held them tight, steady and sure no matter how rough the seas around them grew.

“You’re totally gonna rip my throat out if I open this bag of Doritos in your new shiny baby aren’t you?” Stiles mused as he tugged the aforementioned bag out from his backpack that sat between his legs in the footwell.

“With my teeth,” Derek agreed automatically, completely deadpan. But his hand squeezed Stiles’s gently where they were still connected.

Stiles grinned.

There was also the fact that no one quite enjoyed Stiles’s own special brand of crazy like Derek did. That sort of unconditional love was something more powerful than anything, supernatural or otherwise. It was hard not to feel invincible knowing that. And when Derek looked at him sometimes, even then when it was just a quick peek between keeping his eyes on the road, like he couldn’t help himself, he could see Derek felt the exact same way.

“So at the end of the month, my boss is holding this sort of…I guess the term would be a dinner,” he began as he gently wriggled his hand free from Derek’s to open the dreaded Doritos. “It’s like this unofficial thing he does, to sort of congratulate us all for our hard work. Like a work’s Christmas party except it’s way too early for Christmas. But anyway, we’re allowed to bring significant others.”

When Derek glanced at him again, Stiles waggled his eyebrows and stuffed some Doritos in his mouth. “How significant do you wanna be, Derek?”

Derek flushed but turned back to the road. Honestly he rocked the angry-embarrassed thing, Stiles was so gone for him.

“Is he going to recognise me?” Derek replied eventually, but as he did so, Stiles leaned over to poke a Dorito into his mouth, forcing him to partake in the desecration of the Camaro’s spotless interior and lingering new car smell.

“Only one way to find out hubby-wolf.”

“Oh my god, Stiles, no pet names.”

“I’m also thinking we can probably fit a queen bed in the apartment,” Stiles continued as if he hadn’t spoken. We should stop at Ikea tomorrow. Just something with a little more room for you to, you know, have at me with all your wolfie desires. The full moons are gonna rock.”

Derek made a noise that was torn between dismay and adoration and annoyance all at once and Stiles grinned, stuffing his mouth full again before poking another chip between Derek’s lips. He prodded it until it was almost fully in Derek’s mouth, but when Derek resignedly sucked it in fully, he nipped at the end of Stiles’s fingertip, looking both irritated and pleased with himself.

Stiles beamed and dusted his fingers off before starting to mess with the radio.

Derek had to know what he was in for, after all.

#happyjuicyfruit #stereksanta20 #*fic20 #*gifts20

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dizzydancingdreamer · 3 years

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“First Lines” | Tag Game

Hey Y’all I have gotten tagged in this a few times— thank you so so much @auroracalisto @mikaelson-emma and, of course, @hellotvshowtrash— I haven’t had much time to read them and form coherant thoughts but expect some soon.

So the rules are you post the opening lines to 20 of your most recent fics— or all the ones you have if you don’t have 20— and it kinda just shows who you are as a writer and it’s just fun!

I decided to include some WIP’s— and expose to everyone who is not @activist-af the sheer amount of fics that I start and then set aside. Please enjoy y’all I got a kick out of compiling this list!

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

“Barnes, you’re on protection detail.”

He must be dreaming— he must have fallen asleep with the tv on again. That’s been happening a lot lately; he’s trying to catch up on normal life. On all the shows and movies and music he’s missed throughout the years. He’s trying to catch up. Or maybe he’s just trying to drown out the silence. It doesn’t matter why, to be honest, all that matters is that he is asleep and what he is hearing and seeing are the workings of a bad dream. There was a marathon last night. Yeah, there was. Movies, a few of them. Something about bodyguards. He’s just dreaming about the movies. Right?

(WIP | Persephone’s Symphony | Bucky Barnes)

“Did you pack my dress!” A shrill voice assaults her eardrums as she scurries towards the door.

It comes from a tall, thin, young woman. Her face and fingers are boney, her blonde hair falling in perfect waves down her back. The faintest aroma of honeysuckles and violets wafts off her creamy skin. She is beautiful, her step sister Anna. At least in theory. The sneer on her cherry lips and the hatred in her cerulean eyes, unclouded and accusatory, can’t be hidden by any length of silky dress or ruby lipstick, though. She is ugly, even if just on the inside.

(Posted | The Servant and The Prince / Chapter One | Loki)

The ride to the capitol takes three gruelling days. Each night is spent at a different tavern. It is the same story each time; Estrid and Anna spend the night in a lavish bed and Y/n is left with the horses, curled under her thankfully baggy cloak. It is neither warm nor comfortable, sleeping on the bench seat of the carriage. She never really falls asleep, she only dozes in and out of consciousness. It is almost always interrupted by footsteps or the murmurs of animals or her own mostly empty stomach growling into the night. That one is twofold- usually her stomach is in so much nauseating pain that she cannot sleep but, on the off occasion she can, she is then awoken by the loud roars it makes.

(Posted | The Servant and The Prince / Chapter Two | Loki)

“Please Surtr.”

Her voice rings through his ears on a loop, the most beautiful and agonizing melody that he has surely ever heard. She must be magic- something strong and powerful and like nothing he has ever seen before. There is no other explanation. It had been magic when she appeared to him, literally falling into his lap as if out of thin air. He is the god of tricks but even he cannot do that- he cannot make women that smell like flower petals land in his arms at will. He wishes he could- more than anything he wishes he could pluck her out of his dreams and bring her back to him. But he cannot because that was not a trick. That was something else entirely.

(Posted | The Servant and The Prince / Chapter Three | Loki)

Y/n’s heart thunders as she gazes up at the glittering golden gates of the castle. If she was not so bogged down with bags she would throw a hand over her brow— a futile attempt to keep her eyes from burning out of their sockets. Do they really have to be this glittery? She thinks they are marvellous, that is not the problem. The problem is that she is not marvelous. Not in the slightest. Not worthy of such magnificent, splendid, rich architecture. She glances down at her simple dress— the loose green threads hanging from the side of the garment— she had meant to fix those— is this really where she must stay? Surely there must be a stable somewhere. A barn for animals like her.

(Posted | The Servant and The Prince / Chapter Four | Loki)

“On the balcony,” Frigga calls back, brushing her blonde hair over her shoulders. “We have company!” She adds, seemingly as an after thought— she is too busy pouring wine from a glass feeder into a beautifully ornate cup.

At least, Y/n thinks it is wine. She can smell the fermented berries— sweet and tangy and warming her nose as all wines she has encountered before have— only this wine is a pale violet shade. It is not an opaque rouge, not a barely there chartreuse. Nothing like what she has ever been able to get her hands on by way of bartering or shared celebration. Weddings and births. She takes a seat in one of the golden chairs, trying not to think about how out of her element she truly is. The little details are starting to show though. Not just extravagant pools and marble hallways. Even the food here is luxurious.

(WIP | The Servant and The Prince / Chapter Five | Loki)

She would have never thought it possible. Never. She’s the type to sit at home and crack open a good book. Maybe make a nice cup of tea. Lately she has been finding hibiscus tea to be a nice way to end the night. That’s besides the point, though. The point is that she is nothing like her older sister Jane. She is a dreamer, not a doer. Not a traveller.

Especially not a traveller of space— of foreign planets.

(WIP | Untitled | Loki)

“Are you heading home this weekend?” Lily twirls a strand of blonde hair between her fingers, “Mama told me there’s an event.”

Your best friend lays on your bed as opposed to her own, her legs dangling over the edge. Her eyes are closed, probably halfway to being asleep. It’s been this way since the two of you left for college three years ago, always more in your space than her own. You’re lucky that way, you have a best friend who would follow you across the country if you wanted her to. Honestly, you would do the same. Luckily, though, you decided on only two hours away away from home. Just far enough to find your footing. At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

(Posted | Everything, Everywhere | The Mikaelson Boys)

“Get away from me, Kai!” Y/n snarls, pushing her way through the grill with a huffing witch on her heels.

She had been eating her meal- staring at her meal more like— and trying to ignore the constant buzz of her phone. He was incessant, texting her non— stop as if it would make it all better. After the thirtieth text she had turned her phone off, preferring to look at her food in silence. No text can erase his voice in her head. She means nothing to me.

“Not going to happen, kitten,” Kai purrs, his hand wrapping around her arm and tugging her to his chest, “you’re not going to ignore me.”

(WIP | Untitled | Kai Parker)

New Orleans isn’t all that it was cracked up to be she muses to herself as she winds her way through the tombs. They tower over her, shadowing her with the sins of so many people before her. They’re lonely. That’s all she can think, over and over again. They must be so lonely. There can’t possibly be enough people to visit each of them. There aren’t even any people to visit her, let alone thousands of lost souls. She laughs to herself, a cruel sound breaking through the crashing silence. She is a lost soul.

(WIP | Do You Have A Moment? | Kol Mikaelson)

A little bit outside the city lines of New Orleans, tucked precariously off highway 109, there stands a roadside market. It isn’t too far, nor is it too close; it’s just right, like the porridge in some half assed, uninspired fairytale. It’s nestled perfectly on the edge of the bayou, drawing in just enough business to keep the two girls running it in business. The jam is sweet, the ham is honeyed, and the women have smiles that look a little bit like rain in a drought: necessary for life but too much water on dry soil is a recipe for disaster. It’s all a little bit too perfect. Too clean cut and wholesome. But this isn’t a fairytale, after all. It’s the story of the girl who got away with it and the girl who helped her do it.

(WIP | Hey Tommy | The Mikaelsons)

The Salvatore house has always smelled the same; like oranges and rum. A lot of rum. It is a welcome scent, one that smells almost like home. It will never truly be home, those scents are already reserved in your very essence, but it’s close. You’ll always be happy to walk through their door. Today is no different.

(WIP | Forever and Always | The Mikaelsons)

Kol drags a hand through his hair, his eyes locked on the book in front of him. His eyes wander the page, the corner of his mouth lifting when he skims something particularly interesting. You, too, have a book in your hands but, unlike him, your focus is elsewhere. To be exact, your focus is four feet away, basking in the sun on the lap of one shirtless vamp.

(WIP | Best Friend Things / Part Two | Kol Mikaelson)

“So, love,” a pair of arms snake around your waist, pulling you into a warm chest, “these are the famous pumpkins?”

A familiar blonde head, the one you woke up to this morning, settles against your shoulder. He must be leaning significantly given the fact that he’s at least a good head taller than you. You break the rain spell you had been working on, laying your wand next to your pumpkin starts. That’s the beauty of magic, you can grow in any season. You turn to face Klaus, a soft smile on your face.

(WIP | Pumpkin / Harry Potter Universe AU | Klaus Mikaelson)

The salt clings to her sticky skin, her hair grainy and matted from the surf. Thunder rolls overhead, chasing her through The Cut like. It’s only half past noon but shadows layer the street, casting everything in a dusky gloom. The pavement smells sharp; the rain is coming and fast. She hikes her tote higher on her shoulder and wishes for a moment that she hadn’t dove for as many shells today. She feels like a beached whale with all the dead weight. Business is business, though, and the tourists go crazy for a handmade necklace.

(WIP | Thunderstorm Afternoons | Jj Maybank and John B. Routledge)

She shoves her key into the lock of the Smith’s beach house, turning it with an audible click and smiling when she pushes the door open to the smell of warm pizza and oranges. Try as the boys may, Mrs. Smith’s affinity for essential oils will always prevail over the mass amount of cheap pizza they consume on what is— unfortunately— the daily. She hauls her bag higher on her shoulder, closing the door behind her and thanking the heavens she remembered to pack some of the chicken her mother made for dinner on her way out the door. No Domino's tonight, thank you very much.

(WIP | Sleepovers | The Kook Boys)

“Y/n, darling, come here,” her mother’s sweet voice trickled over her from the front hall, “I have some people I want you to meet.”

She stepped into the hallway, coloured lights pouring over her. It was Christmas time, her favourite time, and everything was extravagantly decorated. Garland lined the grand staircase, there was a tree in almost every room, and, her favourite, holly strung in every doorway. Her house radiated magic, more so than usual, that is.

(WIP | Hufflepuff Princess | Draco Malfoy)

Her feet hit the pavement with careful clicks, her heels— while undeniably killer— a little loud for her taste: a product of her day spent in practice with the other debutante girls. She has to force herself to make her steps light. This isn’t New York, it’s Mystic Falls. Being a southern woman is not a choice; it’s an obligation. A prior commitment she agreed to before she was old enough to truly fathom what it meant. For the most part she loves it— the elegance and refinery, the teatime giggles and flouncing skirts— but the heels? That’s a hard no.

(WIP | Untitled | Kai Parker)

She sighs, her toes burying themselves in the carpet as her arms reach well past her head in a much needed stretch. Her room is dark, the only light coming from her cheap desk lamp. The pounding in her head, for once, isn’t enough to drown out anything that’s happened in the last twenty-four hours. None of this was supposed to happen, it wasn’t supposed to get this far. It was always just a game, wasn’t it? She runs a shaky hand through her hair, her knees wobbling slightly at the thought. Get it together, y/n.

(Posted | The Bet | Rafe Cameron)

Her bubblegum lip gloss attacks him from all the way across the café, cutting cleanly through the aroma of coffee and donuts and sending his heart racing at the obscenely sweet scent. He should hate it. No, scratch that, he shouldn’t think anything of it at all. It’s not in his nature to enjoy things- or to feel things at all, to be frank- but he can’t help it. The drugstore brand, wildly over-scented balm makes his head fuzzy like nothing else.

(Posted | Bubblegum Princess, Cherry Angel | Kai Parker)

I don’t really know who to tag because I haven’t been active these last few days so I am tagging people I have not seen do this yet and if you have just ignore me : @elijahs-wife @draconisxcaput @imaginearyparties @dumble-daddy

#tag game #first lines #WIPs

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kelyon · 4 years

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Nephila Chapter 4: Anatomy

Read on AO3

Happy Halloween and happy one-year anniversary to the Rumbelle fandom’s favorite spider-porn! In this chapter, a pregnant Belle and the man-spider father of her child are finally reunited.

Through the darkness of an underground cavern, shafts of light poured down like gold. Belle French was lifted into one of those beams, held up by the arms of an unspeakable monster. A monster with eight black eyes and dripping fangs and the happiest smile she had ever seen.

“Belle!” it cried. “Belle, you are back!”

The creature seemed so sincere, so full of joy to see her again. In spite of her better instincts, Belle found herself moved. Her heart swelled and she smiled back at him.

“Yeah,” she answered. “I’m here again. I-I didn’t know if you would remember me.”

The ridge over his top eyes furrowed. “But you are Belle,” he said. “You are mate. Forever.”

“Forever?” she squeaked. But she was more surprised than scared. “You didn’t mention that last time.”

The monster didn’t reply to that. Instead he slowly lowered his arms so that his head was directly in front of Belle’s stomach. He pressed one ear against her abdomen, moving her body around until he pushed against her bump. Then he rested. And listened.

“Hang on a second.” Belle pulled up her baggy tee shirt away from his face. The creature cocked its head in curiosity. She adjusted the fabric so the hem was now bunched up below her bra and her stomach was exposed. When she was done, it resumed the position. His face was cool and rough against her belly. The bristles of the chelicerae around its mouth tickled her as he moved. He was searching for something.

When he found it, he said, “Ah!” His whole body seemed to reax--his shoulders slumped and all of his legs went loose.

Tentatively, Belle reached out to put her hand on his head. She stroked the hair--and it was hair, wavy and soft and brown. It reached down to his chin.

“What do you hear?” she whispered.

“Young,” he sighed. “Our young.”

“Really?” her eyes welled up. “Ours?”

“Yes.” The creature’s arms shifted. Now he wasn’t just holding her, he was hugging her. Tender and sweet and loving. He was happy she was back. He was happy she was pregnant.

Belle had never thought that anyone would be happy that she was going to give birth to a monster. But he wanted this baby. He loved this baby, before it was even a full-fledged bump. She had done the right thing coming here. This creature, the father, would do anything for her or their young. She felt that truth in her bones. For just a moment, everything was okay.

Then she started thinking.

A million questions spun around in her mind: How could this thing hear an embryo inside her body? Was it just registering the fetal heartbeat? What was that heartbeat? Was it a healthy rate? Was the baby really okay? What else would he be able to tell her about her pregnancy? Wait--had he been expecting her to come back pregnant?

She pushed its head away from her stomach and slapped at its shoulders to get its attention. “Put me on the ground,” she said. “I want to talk to you, face to face.”

The spider-thing obeyed her without complaint. But once Belle was on the stone floor of the cave, it crawled up to the center of its massive, golden web. The monster towered over her. Belle had to crane her neck and squint to see it outlined in the half-light.

Not exactly face to face.

Pulling her shirt down again, Belle crossed her arms over her chest. Pregnancy had made her breasts swell up and her nipples become more sensitive--and she really didn’t want to be distracted by that sort of thing right now. For all its fond feelings, this creature had turned her life upside down. Before anything else happened, she would give him a piece of her mind.

“So,” she began firmly. “You know that I’m pregnant--that I’m going to have one of your ‘young,’ as you call it.”

“Yes.” The echoey answer came down from the shadows of the cave.

Out of sheer irritation, Belle began to tap her foot. “Did you plan for that to happen?”

“Yes.”

Her mouth fell open. “Yes?” she repeated. “You wanted me to conceive and carry your offspring? And you didn’t see fit to tell me about it?”

“I told.” The voice sounded indignant. “We made a deal. You agreed.”

“I did not agree to--”

“You said mate!”

The creature rappelled down from the web on a string of golden thread until its pointed legs touched the floor. The human-looking head and torso rose up from a spider’s cephalothorax. A ridged shell of exoskeleton covered his back and shoulders down to the waist, showing only the slightest hint of a golden underbelly. Unlike his sparkly face and hands, that bit of carapace was a glossy dark brown. It almost looked like an old-fashioned frock coat.

The shell moved with his body when he bent at the waist to look her in the eye. Now they were face to face. It was hard to read his expression. He didn’t seem enraged, just terribly intense.

“You agreed to be my mate!”

“Yeah, but mating doesn’t mean…”

This time, Belle stopped herself. She realized her mistake now. When she had made the deal with the creature, she had been thinking like a human. She had taken ‘mate’ to be the same as ‘fuck.’ She had thought her time with the spider had been a one night stand, no strings attached. She’d thought she’d gotten pregnant by accident.

She should have thought like an animal. So many animals only ever had sex when the female was ovulating, when conception was practically gauranteed. By agreeing to mate with him, she had been agreeing to have his child.

And there was the language the creature had used. There was a big difference between ‘mating’ and ‘being a mate.’ Did it really mean what it had said? Did he want her to be his mate? Forever?

Belle put her hand over her stomach. Her anger had left her, and now she felt like a deflated balloon.

“Did you really plan for me to get pregnant?”

“Yes.”

“And do you still want me around? Do you want me to have your… progeny?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” She looked into his eyes--so strange, so black, but so full of expression. “Was I just the first fertile human to ever come into this cave?”

“No,” it said simply. “Not the first.”

Belle blinked. “Wait, have you done this before? Do you have other offspring? Are there more things like you out there in the world?”

The creature looked away from her, but didn’t crawl back into its web. “Yes,” he said after a moment. His voice seemed quiet, almost sad. “Long ago. There was another.”

“Another woman?” Belle whispered. “Another human?”

He nodded. “And another young.”

“But only one? Hell, do your ‘mates’ only give birth to one, um, ‘young’ at a time?”

“Yes.”

Okay then. Well, at least now Belle knew she wasn’t going to give birth to hundreds of spiderlings. Thank God for small favors.

“What… happened to your young? It’s not in this cave, is it?” She had thought that this thing was such an anomaly, such a scientific impossibility, that there was no way there could be more than one of it. She had thought he was alone, but what if he wasn’t? Or at least, what if he hadn’t always been?

“Left.”

There was something different about this reply. Though it was just as monosyllabic and simple as everything else the creature had said, Belle got the distinct impression that there was more to it. He wasn’t just saying one word because that was all that needed to be said. He was only saying one word because it was too painful for him to say more.

“And what about the woman?” Not only was there another creature like him out there in the world--like him and like the child she carried--but there was also another woman somewhere who had been through exactly what Belle was going through now.

“She left too,” he said. Half of his eyes looked at the ground, and the other half darted back and forth around the cave. None of them looked at her.

“But…” Belle tried to piece together the facts. “She lived? She was pregnant with your young, and she gave birth to… something like you, and… both of them lived?”

“Yes.”

That eased a worry that Belle had barely been able to admit had been plaguing her.

“How old is your young now? How long ago did all this happen?”

“Old?” the creature cocked its head. “Long… ago?”

Belle swallowed. She had been thinking like a human again. What was time to a thing like him? Did it even have numbers that he could count seasons or years in? Why would it need them? How would this creature in the dark measure the passing of days?

“Your young,” Belle tried again. “Did it grow as big as you?”

That wouldn’t tell her exactly what she wanted to know, but it was good data anyway. If the offspring had lived to reach sexual maturity, that would at least give her an idea of what she could expect from her own young.

“No,” the creature answered. “He was small.”

He held out his arms in a circle near his chest. Belle recognized the gesture as cradling a baby and her heart melted a little. Then, he bent down on his spindly legs and put his hand about a meter off the floor. Belle had the image of a boy’s torso on a spider’s body, running and playing around this cave, learning to spin webs just like its father. Finally, the creature raised itself up a little higher, so that its hand was two meters above the ground. So the young had grown up to be about two-thirds the size of the creature. For some reason, Belle thought of a young teenager, maybe a fourteen year old boy.

She wondered what the young had looked like. Not just how many legs or eyes he’d had, but things like what color his hair had been. Was his chin as pointed as his father’s? Did his eyebrows furrow in the same way? Did the young look like his mother at all?

Would her child look like its big brother?

Belle looked around the cave and found a rock to sit on. So many revelations in such a short time had worn her out. She rested her face in her hands.

The creature came over to her. “Belle?”

“I’m tired,” she explained. “I’m tired all the time now. I don’t like being pregnant.”

He swallowed. Was he nervous? “You don’t want young?”

“What?” Belle looked up.

The creature had its hands drawn up close to its chest. Her first thought was of a praying mantis about to strike. But then she realized that his fingers were moving. They rubbed together in a way that almost looked like fidgeting.

Was he nervous?

He circled the cave on his many legs, up and down the walls. His head wove around like he had something very important to look at just over there, nowhere near her. Belle read this behavior as evasion. She had never seen it in a predator before.

He had made a complete circuit around before he spoke again.

“Will you… leave?”

Belle’s shoulders slumped. She knew what she had to say, and she knew that he didn’t want to hear it. Surprisingly, she didn’t really want to say it either.

“I’ll have to, eventually. People will worry if I just disappear. And I need food and water and--” she looked down at her belly “--medicine, I think. I still don’t know what to do about a doctor knowing what I’m pregnant with.”

“Stay.” It was looking at her now. All of his dark eyes were wide and full. “Please stay, Belle.”

She looked at the ground. When was the last time someone she’d fucked had even asked her to stay the night? Let alone stay for… however long he wanted her to stay. Forever? The time they had spent together could be measured in hours. It was not the stuff of a lifetime commitment!

And yet...

“I--” she didn’t know what to say. “I do have to go back tonight. The people I’m staying with will worry about me if I don’t come back. Everyone will worry about me if I just fall off the face of the earth. Do-do you understand that? I’m not alone. There are other humans who care about me, and I care about them.”

He turned his head. “I… care about you.” His voice was soft and muffled.

“I know.”

Belle heaved herself off the rock and took a few steps under his legs. He was so large, she felt like she was in a cave within a cave. Over her head, his oblong abdomen was smooth and dark, with a slight pattern of speckles. Though he wasn’t yellow, she understood why another name for nephila was “banana spider.” Tentatively, she reached up to touch the underside of his exoskeleton. It was almost a shell, cool and hard, with patterns of bumpy ridges breaking up the smoothness.

His legs scuttled in place as she touched him, and Belle withdrew her hand. “Was that alright?”

For a moment, the creature didn’t speak. Then, from high above her head, Belle heard the answer: “Yes.”

She raised her hand again, pressing the flat of her palm against him. “Does this feel good?”

Again, a long moment before he answered. She had the oddest idea that his hesitance wasn’t just reluctance to speak. Maybe he genuinely didn’t know if the sensations he was experiencing were actually pleasant or not. She couldn’t shake the thought that this creature had never been touched gently before. Or at least, it had been so long that the experience was strange.

“Yes,” he said at last.

Slowly, gently, Belle began to rub the shell of his abdomen segment. She tried to be soothing. Would he be soothed? Would he know that that was what she wanted?

Without thinking about it, her other hand drifted down to her belly. She touched the bump that barely even existed, the life inside her that only he knew was really there. She rubbed them all--her lover, her child, and herself. They were an odd and unnatural family, but she could not deny their connection.

“Can you tell me about the woman before?” She couldn’t say why that was the thought at the forefront of her mind. She just knew she wouldn’t have any peace until she was able to resolve it. “What was her name?”

Again, the legs shifted, uncertain. “Didn’t say.”

Belle blinked. “She didn’t tell you? But she mated with you? She agreed, just like I did?”

“No,” it said softly. “Not like you. She… wanted. She… offered.”

Belle blinked again. Wow. She had made a deal for this thing to fuck her as an alternative to having it eat her. But this other woman… Had she really fucked a giant spider just for the hell of it? And she didn’t tell him her name?

Belle moved forward along his body. At the junction between the abdomen and the cephalothorax, there was a ridged orifice. Belle recognized it as a gonopore, the hole where sperm came from. Her mind filled up with facts from classes she had taken: Male spiders didn’t have penises. They scooped sperm up with special limbs called pedipalps and jammed them securely into the female’s genital opening, called an epigyne.

In their particular case, this creature had impregnated her by filling up her vagina with his hand. That hand had obviously been covered in sperm. The process had resulted in the single most mind-blowing orgasm of her life.

Odd as it was, she could understand how a person would deliberately seek out an experience like that, even at the hands of a monster. Perhaps the other woman had known or guessed what this spider would be capable of. Mating like this brought intense physical pleasure to a human woman. Belle knew that from experience.

Did the creature get anything out of it, besides young? There hadn’t been any kind of climax for him. Arachnid procreation was mostly about a male pleasing a much larger female enough to avoid being eaten. Was there any pleasure in it for males? Belle looked up at the gonopore again. What kind of sensation could he feel there? Would that be an erogenous area? Should she touch it? Had the other woman touched it?

“Did she talk to you like I do?”

“No,” the creature said. “She… presented her body to me. We mated. She left, like you did. Then she came back. She was… rounder than you are. I heard the young clearly. She shouted and made noise at me. She called me Monster, Animal. Beast.”

But you are, Belle bit back the words. She lowered her hands away from the creature’s body. Walking out from underneath his cephalothorax, she looked at his face again.

He looked so sad.

“The other,” he went on. “She stayed. She had the young. Then she left. She left him here.”

Belle laid her hand on her stomach. She could have sympathy for a woman who found herself with both an inhuman child and a monster that wanted to mate for life. But it felt cruel for that woman to just leave both of them without a word of explanation.

“And in all that time you were together, she never told you her name?”

“No.”

“Did she name the baby--the young?”

“No.”

“Did you?” she asked. “Did you give your child a name?”

He cocked his head and made a noise, a sort of chittering chirp, more a song than a word. Belle tried to work out syllables that she could repeat into English.

“Bae-el-fi-re?”

His black eyes lit up in excitement. “Yes!” he cried. “Baelfire! Bae! That was my young.”

The joy and love in his voice almost brought Belle to tears. She couldn’t help but wonder how he would sound saying the name of their child, whenever they picked out a name. She had already told this creature her name. And she was damned if she wouldn’t name her child.

It was at that moment that Belle realized she wouldn’t leave him. Not forever. She couldn’t hurt him the way that other woman had.

“Will you--” Belle began, but then stopped herself. She started over again. “The last time I was here, I asked what your name was, and I didn’t quite understand it. Will you tell it to me again?”

He obliged her with another noise, a mess of garbled R and L sounds. She tried to piece it together. “Rum...ple-something? Rumple?”

He smiled at her. “Yes.” His voice was soft now. He sounded grateful.

“I know that’s not all of it, but it’s the best I can do for now.”

“Belle,” he whispered. His legs bent down so that his body lay flat on the ground. From this height, his face was only a few inches higher than hers.

She wanted to ask him more. She wanted to know what had happened to his other young, what was going to happen to her, what kind of name he would like for their child. These were all important questions, but in that moment nothing was more important than the simple act of being with him. Of staying.

She reached out to him. Earlier, she had been fascinated by the parts of him that were arachnid. Now she wanted to touch the parts of him that were human. She put her hand on his shoulder. The hard exoskeleton looked almost like a jacket, like a long coat made of crocodile leather.

The creature--Rumple--didn’t pull away from her touch. Instead, he inched closer. His own hands hung in the air between their bodies. It was clear he wanted to touch her, but couldn’t dare to yet.

So Belle took another step forward. “Do you…” There wasn’t really an easy way to ask this. “Can you mate now, even if we’ve already mated?”

Now it was his turn to blink. All eight eyes did so at a different time, and the effect was like a display of Christmas lights creating the illusion of movement on a static surface.

“Why?” he asked. Was it her imagination, or did he sound breathless?

She moved her hand from his shoulder to his neck, to his face. She brushed one of his chelicerae with the back of her knuckles. The inner bristles there were surprisingly soft. He shuddered at the touch.

“For pleasure,” Belle answered. “We can do it because it feels good. Because it’s the only thing that does feel good in this crazy world.”

With agonizing slowness, Rumple brought his hand up to her face. He touched her cheek. His long, sharp, claws ran against her skin without the slightest hint of pain.

Belle closed her eyes and smiled.

“She... the other… she wanted pleasure.”

Opening her eyes, Belle put her hand on top of his. “What do you want?”

He looked at her. All of his round, black eyes stared at her for a long moment before he answered: “Pleasure.”

Her breath quickened, but Belle nodded. This was happening, and she wanted it to happen. She was going to fuck a spider.

Again.

If he were a man, she would have kissed him now. But his chelicerae made his mouth oddly wide. More than that, the fangs and venom housed within his chelicerae were more of a hazard than Belle could manage right now.

Rumple seemed to know it. As they got closer to each other, he raised his head up so she could nestle underneath his chin. Her arms wrapped around his neck and his arms went around her waist and they held each other.

And it felt so good.

Eyes shut, Belle felt the tears welling up. But she wasn’t sad now. No, she was overwhelmed with an absurd feeling of safety, of peace. With her mind and her body, whatever happened, she would be alright. As long as she was with Rumple, as long as they were together, somehow things would turn out okay.

She wasn’t just going to fuck a spider, she was going to make love to Rumple. Whatever he was, whatever their child would be, whatever happened to her career or her future--they were together.

She loved him.

They stood together for a while. Their hands explored their bodies slowly, almost lazily. More than once, Belle found her hands wandering down to his gonopore. She didn’t touch it directly at first, just let her fingers graze against it. She felt like she was a teenager again--curious to find out what a guy’s boner or another girl’s pussy felt like, but also reluctant to be compelled to do anything with that knowledge once she had it.

Rumple didn’t seem to mind one way or the other. Maybe he couldn’t feel anything. Real spiders didn’t have sensory organs on their pedipalps, which could make mating a clumsy process. What was this creature’s relationship to his own body? How could she give him pleasure like he had given her?

“What can you feel?” she asked.

“Heart,” he said. His hand was on her neck and her pulse was probably racing.

Belle bit back a smile. “I mean, for yourself? Can you feel me touching you?”

“Yes.”

“Do you like the way I’m touching you?”

“Yes.”

“Can I do anything more? Something different? Faster, slower? Rougher, softer? Want me to go in circles?”

That was too many questions at once, and she knew he wouldn’t answer. But he held her closer and rubbed his face in her hair.

“Do I smell good?” she whispered. She worked her hands into the inside of his carapace. His skin was soft there, and his body was warm.

“Yes,” he answered.

“What do I smell like?” She was genuinely curious as to what he would say, how he would describe his senses and whether it would mean anything to her.

“Belle,” he whispered. He always spoke her name with reverence. “You smell like Belle.”

Squeezing her eyes shut to block off another onslaught of tears, Belle pulled her free hand out of the carapace and very deliberately moved it down along his waist and into his gonopore.

Rumple gasped. His body stiffened, but Belle did not move her hand.

“Does that hurt, Rumple?”

“No.” His voice was different. One of his hands twisted in her tee shirt.

“You have to tell me if I hurt you. I’ve never done this before and I don’t want to get it wrong.”

Gently, he pulled her head back so they were looking at each other, face to face. “You too,” he said softly. “If I hurt you.”

“I’ll tell you,” Belle nodded. “If we do this right, we’ll both end up feeling very good.”

One hand was still in her shirt. He pulled at it, not roughly. “Sheer?” he offered.

Belle snorted at the word they had used last time for the act of her taking off her clothes. Strange that the other woman hadn’t taught him about clothing. Had she not worn any when she was around him? Was she a nudist? Or just a woman on a mission who wouldn’t let even a millimeter of fabric get between her body and the monster she wanted to fuck?

Nothing good would come of thinking about that woman now. Backing away from Rumple just a bit, Belle pulled her shirt over her head and unhooked her bra. Her nipples stood out from her breasts, hard and red as gumdrops. Pregnancy and arousal had an odd combination of effects on her body.

The creature cocked his head at her. He seemed surprised by how different she looked from the last time he had seen her.

Belle sat on the stone ground to take off her shoes and socks. “My body is going to be changing a lot between now and when the baby comes. So don’t get too attached to me looking just one way.”

“Beautiful,” was all he said when she pulled off her shorts and stood naked in front of him. “Always.”

She swallowed. For about the thousandth time, Belle remembered what a truly fucked up situation she had found herself in. She was talking to a giant spider. She cared what the spider thought about her appearance. She was relieved when the spider said he would always find her beautiful. She was looking forward to having an “always” with a motherfucking spider.

Stepping toward Rumple, Belle reached out her hand to touch his gonopore again. There was a ridge around the opening, made of a hard, shell-like material. The bumps were rounded and smooth. They felt good against her hand.

She applied a little pressure and the creature’s breath hitched.

“Nice,” Belle said out loud.

For all her horny bravery, Belle wasn’t ready to dive directly into the orifice where his sperm came from. It was wet and sticky, even more so than any of the fluids she normally associated with sex. That kind of mess would be more appropriate for a third date. But the ridge… She could work with that ridge. And it would give him pleasure too.

“Can you pick me up again?”

Of course he could. Of course his strength was inhuman. He held her in his arms and Belle wrapped her legs around his waist. Her pussy opened up to him, flush against his body. Her wetness left a shine against his dark brown shell.

“What do you want?” he asked her.

With one hand, she held onto his arm. With the other, she brushed back a lock of his hair. Her fingers trailed down to his cheek.

“I want to ride you,” she answered. “I want you to hold me up with your arms so I stay pretty much where I am right now. If you think you might drop me, please stop and put me down and we’ll think of something else to do.”

“I will!” he promised. God, he was so sincere, so heartfelt.

Belle adjusted her position so that the ridge around his gonopore was pushing directly against her pussy. The hard, round bumps pressed against her clitoris and her vagina at the same time.

“Oh, fuck yes,” she whispered. She rocked her hips against him. “Do you feel that? Do you like that feeling?”

Rumple’s arms clutched around her and he held her tight against his body. “Yes.”

“Good.” Her breathing was heavy. “I’m going to keep moving like this, over and over, until I can’t do it anymore. I’m going to try to come. Do you remember, last time, when you made me come? You did it four times.”

“Yes.” He didn’t have hips, exactly, but his lower half jerked forward, as though he was being led by his gonopore into her body.

She chuckled. “And if there’s anything I can do for you--any way you want me to touch you or move against you--just let me know.” Belle looked into his eyes, all eight of them. “I want you to enjoy this too.”

He nodded, and she began to grind.

The bumps between her legs really were perfect for this. They were large enough that she could feel them, but not so penetrating that it was uncomfortable. Her movements did an excellent job of not satisfying her--they always left her wanting more.

Unlike so many times with men, Belle felt like she was in control of her pleasure. She wanted to make Rumple feel good, but there was no demand, no urgency. Sometimes fucking a cock felt like a race against time, like she was there to satisfy it, like the male climax was the point of sex and her own pleasure only existed to make a man horny.

But this was more like fucking a woman, when orgasms were a nearly inexhaustable resource and lovers could spend hours trading pleasure back and forth between them. They had nothing but time, her and Rumple. They would have forever to learn the mysteries of each other’s bodies. They would have always.

No one--man or woman--had ever promised her that before.

Her legs tightened around his waist, and Belle found herself clenching, the orgasm rising up out of her. She clung to Rumple as she came, bracing herself against his chest. As she came down from the first of what would be many highs, she looked up at his face. His eyes were even rounder and blacker than before.

“Belle,” was all he said.

“Rumple.” She gave him a sated smile and rested her head on his chest again. Then she told him something she had never said to anyone else before: “I love you.”

#Nephila #rumbelle #rumbelle fic #spiders #rumbelle monsters ball

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