You Gonna Let Me Be Good To You?

Consider Us Even

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley X GN!Reader Word count: 3100± Warning: Profanity Summary: He owed you a date. He's paying it. [Part 2 of You're Gonna Owe Me for This]

It was more or less three months after Simon decided that he owed you a date that he finally went home. At some point, you were worried that something had happened to him during his leave, but when it was to the point where you were about to text him, you saw him about to enter his flat upon your own arrival at yours.

Simon did not see you, but you were at least glad that he came back alive. Who could even imagine what he went through in his work the last three months?

The next day, just as you were about to leave your flat, you found Simon waiting in the hallway across your door. He did not look different. Well, of course, that was what you saw because who knew what was behind the mask? He could have been piercing his cheek with a chopstick since the last time you saw each other for all you knew.

“Mornin’,” Simon greeted.

“Morning to you, too,” you replied. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Half an hour,” Simon answered. “I knocked.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” you blurted. “I didn’t hear. I must’ve been in the shower.”

“I figured,” Simon said.

“I mean, you could just text me,” you gave him an apologetic smile.

“Anyway,” Simon moved on, “are you free next Saturday?”

“Next Saturday?” you paused, thinking of a way to mess with him. “Ah, I already have a date on Saturday.”

Simon froze for a second.

“That’s… unfortunate,” Simon said, he sounded so disappointed.

Feeling bad, you ended up letting out an amused chunk of air out of your nostrils.

“I’m fucking with you,” you admitted. “Yeah, I have a clear schedule next Saturday.”

Still, Simon took a moment to judge your statement.

“Alright,” Simon sighed. “Say, next Saturday’s raining because the weather here is shit… you’re still down to go?”

“Do you want me in a raincoat and boots?” you asked.

“Only if they’re goth,” Simon answered.

You chuckled, clocking the slight shift in his eyes that was probably the closest thing you had seen him getting amused.

“Noted, sir,” you, very stiffly, saluted him.

Simon sighed in disbelief.

“See you Saturday, yeah?” Simon concluded. “Late afternoon?”

“Sure. See you then, too,” you nodded.

Then, Saturday came.

No, you definitely did not plan your outfit. Definitely not. Just like Simon definitely did not.

Simon was contemplating, staring at his masks, wondering which he should be wearing. There was skull mask #1, then there was the backup skull mask, then the backup backup skull mask, and at least skull masks #2 through #6. 

He ended up picking the one you patched up. Sometimes he could feel your stitches on his lips and for some reason that made this mask his favourite.

You dressed accordingly, but made sure you would look nice at the end of the day because who knew what would happen by then. Again, Simon happened to be your neighbour and he might have known what you look like on laundry day. No one looked good on laundry day and you were just the exception sometimes.

Then, finally, he knocked on your door. You made sure to hear it this time because you were waiting.

Simon, upon seeing you, took a moment. Honestly, you were expecting a compliment, but then you realised that he might not be the type to do so. Until he did. Kind of.

“You look different,” he said.

“Well, I put quite an effort into it,” you admitted.

“Looks great,” Simon added.

“Thank you,” you said. “You, too. I guess. I don’t know what you look like.”

“And you never will,” Simon stated.

“What?” was all you could say.

“You’re ready to go?” Simon asked.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Are you?”

Simon slightly tilted his head aside, but said, “I think so.”

With that, the two of you made your way out of the flat building. You just followed him wherever he led you. There were hardly any words exchanged as you walked.

Simon turned out to be the sweetest yet gentlest person, contrary to what he looked like. He kindly opened a few doors for you. When you were out on the street, he walked on the outer side and weaved you through people.

Not long from your leave, Simon brought you into a store with a bunch of fruits displayed upfront. You were passing a row of grapes when Simon broke the ice.

“I don’t think we’re allowed to buy one singular date, so I’m just gonna ask you how much do you want? 100 grams? A kilo?” Simon asked.

“Excuse me?” you replied just as Simon stopped walking in front of a variety of date fruits.

“There’s these smaller ones, they’re pretty sweet. Then, there’s this—”

You cut him off with a chuckle full of disbelief. In response, Simon only looked at you. He looked serious.

Was he serious? He might be. What if he was? You could not get a read of him and you started getting nervous that he might actually be serious.

“So, how much? Which one?” Simon continued. “There’s some dipped in chocolate, some with nuts. Or maybe you’d like the syrup instead. They also have date infused milk.”

Eyes slightly widened, you raised an eyebrow whilst looking at him. Still, Simon only looked at you without any readable expression seen in his eyes.

That lasted for sometime.

“I’m fucking with you,” Simon admitted. 

Now you were the one who only looked at him.

“Consider us even,” Simon said.

“So, you dragged me into this store just for a lame joke?” you concluded.

“I thought you’d like it,” Simon reasoned

“I adore your commitment,” you smiled.

“If you want them, I’ll get you some,” Simon said.

You chuckled, “No, thank you.”

“Alright. Let’s get a move on, then,” Simon stated.

The two of you started walking out the store.

“Where are we going?” you finally asked.

“There’s this place my friend recommended. It shouldn’t be that far ahead,” Simon answered.

So, here was what happened when he arrived home a few days ago. Simon was mentally breaking every piece of furniture in his place out of frustration. He had no idea what to do.

It all started with you delivering him a cake—which plate had not he returned to you somehow—and it proceeded to him making the stupidest excuse to get you his number—which resulted in you texting him with yours—then, he decided that he owed you a date approximately three months ago.

So, Simon did what he thought he would never do.

He texted Johnny what he and his stupid (legendary) mohawk would do if they asked someone out on a date. There was a lot of teasing in the chatroom and even more threats. By the end of it, Soap had something to blackmail Ghost with and Ghost had at least half an idea on what to do to repay what he owed you.

Simon gave Johnny a broad area of where he lived and some time later, he recommended a place. By the look of it, it was a cafe. Simon considered a cafe as a safe enough place for a first date; if there would even be a second or thirteenth eventually in the future. 

With so, Simon looked up where the place was and decided that he would take you there.

However, when the two of you arrived in front of said cafe, Simon had no idea what to say. He was frozen on the sidewalk, looking at the place before looking at you who were looking at him with a questioning look.

The next time Simon saw him, Soap would get kicked in the chest so hard, it would practically fillet his spine off.

“Is this the place?” you asked.

“Supposedly,” Simon answered.

“Your friend recommended this place?” you asked again, slightly a little more amused, but still intrigued.

“Yeah,” Simon breathed.

“You trust this friend?” you continued.

“With my life,” Simon said.

You could not help, but chuckle. Simon looked at you.

“If you don’t want to spend maybe an hour in a cat cafe with me, let’s just consider this friend of yours is trying to mess with you and we can go elsewhere?” you suggested.

Internally, you felt a little sorry because you now had the intention to spend maybe an hour in a cat cafe with a big, muscular man with a skull mask.

“Yeah, there’s this place—”

“Oh, my God, look at that cat, Simon,” you blurted and went straight into the place without consulting Simon any further.

Once inside, you looked back to Simon who was only still standing where he was and gave him an excited grin in hope to encourage him. That was all it took for him to actually go. Your stupid (gorgeous) smile.

About fifteen minutes in, you noticed that Simon was simply just moving every cat that went towards him by itself to the space next to him almost robotically. A few minutes after that, you realised even more that the cats seemed to be attracted towards him because they kept coming at him, but he always put them away—a useless effort.

One of the cats had black fur with a white patch on its face. This one in particular managed to climb up to Simon’s shoulder while he was putting another cat away.

You would tell him that he looked cute, but you were worried that he might actually murder you if so.

“That one looks like you,” you pointed out.

Hesitantly, Simon picked up the cat and held it in front of his face. He looked at the collar and saw the cat’s name.

“Even better, it’s got my name,” Simon informed. “Ghost.”

“Ghost?” you repeated.

“They call me Ghost,” Simon casually said before putting the cat next to him.

“Should I be calling you Ghost instead?” you asked.

“I’d rather you don’t,” Simon answered, about to move another cat, but he stopped when he looked at the cat’s collar. “Fuckin’ hell.”

Hearing that, you looked at him, wondering if there was something wrong. Maybe he wanted to leave. Maybe you should not have come here. Maybe he was very uncomfortable.

God, what had you done?

“We… don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,” you said. “I just… I thought it’d be funny to actually see you around cats.”

“Oh, it’s very funny. Do you want to know what’s funny?” Simon flatly replied. “This cat also got my name.”

“Simon?” you guessed.

“Riley,” Simon stated.

“Riley,” you repeated. “That’s your—”

“Yeah,” Simon nodded. “I thought you knew.”

“I know nothing about you,” you said. “I should be terrified of you.”

There was a pause.

“Why Ghost?” you asked. “I reckon it has something to do with the mask.”

“You know, sweetheart, I owe you a date, not a story,” Simon brought up.

“People tell stories on dates,” you reasoned, hoping he did not notice how you smiled when he called you sweetheart.

Simon only looked at you for a moment.

“I don’t have a pleasant story,” Simon said. “Except if it’s about my neighbour who I ended up going on a date with.”

Scoffing a smile, you playfully shoved him by the arm. At that brief moment, you felt his arm. That reminded you that you, as weird as even just the thought of it was, had never even seen what his arm looked like.

Maybe his arms looked like the two muscular arms holding hands meme. Now, you started picturing all the possibilities of what his arms looked like. Maybe he had a tattoo, a lot of people in the military had tattoos. Maybe his tattoo had a skull on it. Maybe not.

It just seemed to be his personality in general.

“Fine,” Simon said. “What do you want to know about me? I’ll answer some, but only if you do the same.”

“Deal! I have so many questions,” you stated excitedly.

Simon held up a finger.

“Let’s wait until we’re somewhere better suited for that kind of conversation,” Simon said.

“Let’s go now, then?” you suggested.

“You were so eager to get in here earlier,” Simon recalled.

“I changed my mind,” you shrugged.

The next place you went to was an actual cafe. The one with warm and cold drinks instead of cats.

Simon placed you both in the furthest corner. He sat facing the wall while you sat across him. The nearest window was feet away.  As you arrived earlier, it started raining outside.

Now, the two of you sat with your chosen beverage. Simon had brought his to his lips, but you stopped him by holding his wrist.

Simon looked at your hand for a moment before looking up at you.

“You still have your mask on,” you pointed out.

“Fuck, right,” Simon realised.

Carefully, you removed your hand from his wrist. However, Simon did the exact same thing again without taking his mask off, but you quickly stopped him again by putting your hand on his wrist again.

“Fucking ridiculous,” Simon realised, shaking his head lightly.

You chuckled.

This time, Simon lifted his mask up to his nose, holding it with his thumb, before taking a sip.

At this point, you could see the scruff of a beard that he had, a couple of scars, the tip of his nose, and his lips. His lips would probably be the only thing you thought of for at least the next two weeks.

As soon as Simon lowered back his mask, you looked down at your cup. 

“You know, most people just watch and let me wet my pants,” Simon brought up.

“That’s just mean,” you commented.

“My friend, especially, thinks it’s funny,” Simon added.

“The same one who recommended you that place earlier?” you guessed, lighty smiling at him.

“That exact one,” Simon confirmed. “Uh… soap.”

“Soap?” you repeated.

“People call him Soap,” Simon said.

“What the hell kind of name is Soap? Is it an inside joke?” you asked.

“Not exactly, no. It’s not that pleasant of a story either,” Simon answered. “You see, he’s good at cleaning houses.”

“With… guns?” you continued.

Simon gave you a nod.

“I guess that makes sense,” you said.

Filling the next seconds, the two of you sipped your drink. Simon remembered to lift his mask this time and you could not help but glanced over.

God, you really should not be doing that. What if he really did not want you to see his face?

Simon also accidentally pulled his dog tag when he pulled his mask this time. He let the metal hang in between his pecs. Just looking at that, you felt quite flustered and immediately looked away.

“You know, you can maybe add a zipper to your mask,” you said. “You can maybe add it, like… make it a flap. Like a door.”

“That might actually be a good idea,” Simon said. “That ought to solve most of my problems, but… I tried and it ruined the shape of the mask. Then, if so, I wouldn’t have to bother my neighbour in the middle of the night and ask said neighbour to help me fix my mask.”

“I mean, you can bother your neighbour any time you want, any way possible,” you said.

“How am I supposed to owe my neighbour a date, then?” Simon questioned.

“You could ask your neighbour on a date,” you replied.

“Interesting concept,” Simon nodded.

You chuckled.

There was a little gap in between you two.

“So, are you in the Royal Marine?” you continued. “You seem like one.”

“No. I’m in the Royal Army. Exactly, I’m a… lieutenant in the Special Air Service,” Simon answered.

“What the fuck?” you muttered. “Isn’t that like… super important?”

Simon let out one amused scoff.

“Is that why you wear the mask?” you asked despite not finding the sense in your question.

“The thing is, as long as I’m not a civilian, the mask stays,” Simon explained.

“Are there exceptions?” you continued.

“Jesus, you do have a lot of questions, don’t you?” Simon sighed.

You pouted a little.

“I’m sorry,” you said.

“No, it’s alright. You look cute when you’re curious,” Simon stated.

If you were not visibly flustered before, you were now.

That was the start of a very pleasant conversation between you two actually getting to know each other. Simon did not say much about himself, but he was very interested in you. He listened to every single word you said as if it was a need-to-know on a mission.

Although Simon was reluctant to take you to eat dinner outside due to the mask situation, he did take you to a restaurant and ordered food to be taken away for the two of you before you two made your way back to your flats.

It was a long walk. Way longer than when you two left the building earlier this aftertoon. At some point as you walked, Simon dared to put his hand on the small of your back.

Honestly, who would have known that this very intimidating looking person could be so kind and sweet? He was also funny, too. In his own way. He turned out to be one of the most interesting people you had known and you knew him a little better than most people.

In addition, you might have gained the ability to read him a little better and thus enhanced your ability to read other people who were easier to read compared to him.

Wishing the day was not over so soon was not an exaggeration. Simon planted a desire in your heart simply to just take care of him. Maybe ironing his uniform or making sure his mask was straight or brewing him some tea, maybe even tuck him to sleep and washed his face off the warpaint he used around his eyes.

Unfortunately, you soon arrived in your flat building. The two of you eventually got into the lift and out of it.

Simon stopped in front of your door with you.

“Thank you for taking me out today, Simon. I really had fun,” you said.

“We’re even then, yeah?” Simon asked.

“I guess so,” you answered. “However, I will be disappointed if you stop annoying me.”

“Don’t tempt me, I might borrow every single piece of hardware that you have and return none of them until you knock on my door and wonder where your vacuum cleaner is,” Simon replied.

“Just don’t ghost me,” you proudly smiled, flicking your eyebrows.

Simon only looked at you, there was half of an approval in his eyes.

“I’ll see you around,” Simon said as he stepped back.

“Wait,” you called.

Simon stopped on his tracks.

You kissed the tips of your fingers before pressing them on the mouth area of his mask. The next three seconds felt like three hours where Simon only stared into your eyes, stunned. You only gave him a smile.

Your smile seemed to slap him back into the moment.

“You’re gonna owe me for that,” Simon stated.

“Oh, fuck you,” you chuckled.

Here's part 3

Getting nostalgic for junior year of high school, because I just remembered me and a bunch of other girls (like 11 of us) had a Snapchat group chat where we posted this photo of Legolas once

and were trying to figure out why it was the most attractive shot of him in the whole series. Literally, we were a bunch of scholars standing around this piece of artwork deciphering it

In the end we discovered it’s the only scene where he doesn’t have a collar on his tunic. We and our little teenage hormones were going batshit because we could see a little bit more of his neck. Like old fashioned men wooing at ladies ankles

High school was a different time man

Master of Puppets | 3

Summary: You meet someone who caught your attention the first time, and he was all you desired.

But what happens when that desire is taken for granted?

Pairings: Chishiya x Fem!Reader

Genre: Slowburn, Angst

A/N: This chapter 3 of the MoP series! Chapter 3 is shorter than I expected so I apologize. Hope you guys still enjoy :)

****

Embarrassment was far more than you could describe what happened that night. Grabbing the pillow next to you, you let out a loud scream while kicking your legs. It wasn’t until today where you actually laid down in your bed and carefully thought about everything that happened in those moments with Chishiya. And the more you thought about it, the more you realized how right he actually was. Chishiya did have an affect on you, and it was making you go crazy.

You have absolutely no idea why or how it happened but he’s someone that you just didn’t want to get enough of. He’s on your mind consistently, whether you liked to admit it or not. Even when you would hang out with Kuina, sometimes you couldn’t help but ask about Chishiya to see if he was doing okay and just making sure that he was still alive. Kuina has asked you if you wanted to go with her to be with Chishiya and you turned her down. You just couldn’t face him. Not right now. Although Kuina was skeptical about it, she never pushed you on. She figured you would tell her once you feel comfortable and reminded you again that she will always be there for you. My guardian angel. 

But it’s hard, having to isolate yourself because you feared the truth. And what scared you about Chishiya is that he knows the truth. And it begs the question:

Does Chishiya know you better than yourself? 

The thought of it makes your mind and heart go around in circles like a roundabout. If he knew the truth it’s just best to be honest about it right? What was his stance on the matter? Does it bother him that you are going to be appear more often now that you are close with Kuina? You know you can’t hide from him forever and vice versa, so will he just continue to ignore you? Or will he take an initiative?

But why would he bother taking an initiative if he told you that he didn’t want to be friends with someone as pathetic as you are? Again you screamed in the pillow. Even if he doesn’t want to, you know that being close to him is something that you felt you need to do. 

Rather than just running away, you knew you just had to accept the truth. The whole truth and nothing but the truth. That truth being that you wanted Chishiya more than anything. 

Quickly jumping off the bed you put on your shoes and start heading out the door. You weren’t exactly sure where you could find him right now but you had a few ideas where he could be. You just hope that he hasn’t left for a game so soon.

-

Looking for this man was giving you an absolute headache because he was nowhere to be found. You checked the obvious places and people but found no sign of him. It was getting ridiculous how much you were running around the Beach trying to find him, and the weird looks people were giving you wasn’t helping either.  You figured you would just call it a night and head back to your room and try again the next day.

Walking along the corridors of your floor you spot him coming from the opposite direction. Your heart starts to accelerate.

Just stay calm.

Slowly walking up to him you can feel the anxiety coming straight at you like a hurricane. This is probably the worst idea ever but there is no turning back now. Now face to face with him, he pulls out the earphones that he had on and gives you a raised eyebrow. 

“Chishiya! Hi- sorry um..” giving yourself a deep breath you continued, “sorry I just wanted to let you know that you are absolutely right. You do have an affect on me and I can’t explain why, but all I know is that I really like you. I like you so much and I know that sounds crazy because you barely know me and I don’t really know much about you either but I just… I feel like I’ve always had these feelings for you since I first saw you and they won’t go away. I think it’s the best if you knew the truth.” You look at him straight in the eyes, your heart palpitating with your palms already sweating.

Breaking the eye contact you look down at your hands and start playing with them, as if they were the most interesting thing in the world. Why isn’t he saying anything? Taking another deep breath you look back at him, his eyes were still on you. The smirk grew wider before he speaks,

“The question is how long did it take you to know the truth?

“Oh? Well I guess I didn’t realize until… that night” you gulped. You watch as he slowly started to inch toward you, just like he did on the rooftop. Your legs were frozen in place, not moving an inch from where you stood. He was at your eye level, but this time he was slowly getting closer to you. Your faces were now inches away from each other, lips centimeters away. “Was it when I came close to you like this?”

You gasped and he chuckles, quickly backing off before continuing, “I think it’s cute, however you serve no purpose for me at the moment.”  Giving you one last smirk he starts walking away, leaving you once again in delirium. 

 ***

The thick black smoke circled around while you were laying on the cold concrete floor underneath as you sleep. The smoke becomes thicker and your throat and lungs were getting severely irritated. You start to cough aggressively, hoping to remove the impurities that were in your respiratory system. Getting up, you tried to breathe to get any clean air into your system. The feeling only made you feel worse. The black smoke forbid you to see your surroundings, but you knew you had to get out of here. Coughing and running you try to find any signs of an exit. The place was like a labyrinth; so many twists and turns and it was as if you made an entire circle. Your body was screaming in desperation to get out, and you looked for another route to make it out of this crazy labyrinth. 

Running south this time, a bit of the black smoke clears up and you see a figure standing several meters away from you. Getting closer you see the man with his signature white hoodie. He was surrounded by water – lots of water, like the entire Sea of Japan was behind him. And he was just standing there watching you. You try to run towards him, calling out his name. HIs figure stood there with no response. The black smoke that you thought you escaped from was chasing after you, and the fire began to spread further as you continued running. Looking back, you see the raging hells were geting larger. You forced your legs to quicken their pace, hoping to reach the man that oh so desperately had what you needed. 

Just a few feet away and as you jumped into the water, you quickly swam over. His body was now right in front of you, giving you that sly smirk. Admiring his features, your fingers couldn’t resist but to touch the delicate soft skin against his cheek. Did he always have a small mole underneath his left eye? He doesn’t move an inch, and your eyes move towards his lips. Your thumb gently rubs against the bottom of his lip before you lean in and touch his lips with yours. The fire that was once coming after you has completely engulfed inside your body. The kiss lasted for several seconds and you did not want to stop. When you let go and open your eyes, his beautiful presence was not there. Looking around you see that he has completely disappeared, and it was just you alone in the darkness with the cold water surrounding you. 

You called out his name repeatedly, even screaming his name at the top of your lungs but to no avail. Tears were coming out of your eyes as you sobbed. You dive in looking to see if he was in the deep waters with only the darkness staring back at you. It was no use searching for him. Wailing now, the sobs continued, and the tears blurring your vision forbid you from seeing the tidal waves completely consuming you. 

Setting: Cabin

Genre: Mystery 

Trope: Undercover Married 

Prompt: On a roadtrip together 

Kink: Exhibitionism

from the fic prompt generator with Adrian?

ok i hope you were hoping for a full on fic bc here it is

Being Watched

smut, basically the prompt, i got carried away

“Adebayo I just don’t understand why we have to be married on all of these missions,” you sigh into the receiver of your burner phone, the sound of the shower in the cabin drowning out any possibility of your best friend hearing. The shitty flip phone looks ridiculous, and anyone would peg you as undercover at this resort. There are senators here, senators who very well could be butterflies, and you’re here with a flip phone in the honeymoon cabin after driving 6 hours in the Vigilante-Mobile with Adrian singing along to Carly Rae Jepsen. Not that you minded that part, you sang along with him and fed him sour gummy worms while he got you there safely. 

“You guys just… work like that,” she responds, not even trying to hide her snickering on the other end. She’s right, check in at the resort went smoothly because Adrian slipped his right arm around your waist and made a show of waving around his wedding ring to all of the staff, kissing the side of your head and gushing about how excited he was that the bed was one of those vintage round ones from the 70s in the cabin. You yourself couldn’t stop blushing while you curled into him and clutched your suitcase close. You looked like a couple madly in love. Leota reminds you to keep your head on straight and to stay safe and all the other things you have to do before you’re rushing off the phone because you hear the shower stop. 

It’s only a few moments until your friend, your best friend, comes out of the little bathroom of the cabin with nothing but a towel draped low around his hips. 

Fuck, this was going to be harder than you thought.

But wasn’t it always? Don’t you always go through this? Adrian always parades around the hotel or villa or cabin you’re in with that damn wedding ring on his finger and you always practically jump out of your skin, itching to move closer to him under the sheets at night or to kiss his lips in private, away from potential counter surveillance. 

A part of you suspects this is just a forced proximity thing. You didn’t always want to fall into bed with your best friend since high school, and you didn’t always wish the wedding rings were real. But now you do, sometimes overwhelmingly so…

“What? Did I scrub too hard and accidentally wipe a nipple off?”

Fuck, you’ve been staring, checking him out like some kind of perv. You shake your head, nervous that somehow Adrian gained the ability to read minds or something from too many hits to the head. 

“Nope, I didn’t,” he confirms to himself, looking down at his bare chest to check. 

“Sorry, Ade, I must have zoned out,” you physically shake yourself out of it. You can do this. 

“Are you gonna shower too?” he asks, and you swear he’s flexing now, his biceps chiseled and shiny in the lamplight. You never thought of yourself as the type to go after muscular dudes, and you still aren’t really, Adrian is just an exception. 

You nod, quickly rifling through your bag for your toiletries and speeding to the bathroom door for some privacy.

The click of the door in the latch triggers a sigh you didn’t realize was building in your chest. Just three more days, you tell yourself, three more days of this week long recon mission and you could go home, scrub the smell of his cologne off of you and touch yourself until you passed out to get rid of all this tension in your body.

You fiddle with the nob on the shower and shed your clothes quickly to jump under the slightly too hot spray. 

This is exactly what you needed. You let the steam rolling off the tiles and your skin evaporate all the tension in your muscles and your mind. You relax fully. Maybe you can just spend the rest of the night in bed watching shitty cable movies and laughing and your feelings can bury themselves for the evening. 

Your relaxation is short lived, though. 

“Hey Honey?” Adrian calls through the door; Honey is the codename for when things go sour. Shit. 

“Can I come in?”

You fiddle with the nob and quickly end your shower, lucky to be done with the shampoo so you can hastily grab the towel and wrap it around you. 

“Of course, Sugar!” you call, back, quickly unlocking the door and open it for him to scurry in, now clad in his sweatpants and an athletic training top that truly did you no favors in sparing you from his looks. He presses his back against the door, looking up around the perimeters of the ceiling. 

“What’s going on?” you whisper, clutching your towel tighter to yourself. 

“We’re being watched,” Adrian tells you, pushing up his glasses and only letting his eyes dart briefly to your body, “I just saw one of the cameras turn on, little red light next to the smoke detector.”

“There’s supposed to be a light, Ade,” you sigh, “There’s supposed to be a red light. That means it's working to y’know, detect smoke.”

You roll your eyes and turn away from him, grabbing the loose sweatshirt you brought in here and bringing it down around you without disrupting the towel; a talent you mastered from having to bunk with the guys on too many occasions.

“No that’s—“ Adrian stops himself and curses under his breath, “I know that. You have a smoke detector in your apartment.”

You snap your head up to look at him while you grab your sweatshorts. 

“Why do you say that like your apartment doesn’t have a smoke detector?”

Adrian just smiles at you. 

“Okay,” you physically shake your head to keep yourself from doing the mental gymnastics on that one, pulling your shorts over your thighs, “So, typical plan H?” 

You hate plan H. Plan H is a fake-out make-out until whoever is watching stops. You’ve done this countless times, and never has it gotten easier. Once you stop kissing its back to the normal friend shit and the ice cold longing that sinks into your gut. Every time his lips fall on yours you beg and pray to any god that will listen that this will be real, that you won't stop once you realize the coast is clear. Every time he makes you moan it's for real, and he always compliments your acting skills. You’re a shit fucking actor and you know it. You thought he knew it too, for how well he knew you. 

You sigh.

“Plan H it is,” and you towel off your hair as much as possible. It's going to get ruined and you'll just have to re-shower in the morning. But if it gets surveillance out of your room, its worth the risk. No one ever wants to watch “newlyweds” go at it. He watches you squeeze the excess moisture from your hair with an expression you can’t exactly place. With Adrian, it’s usually so easy to tell how he’s feeling. Somehow, he never learned how to hide himself or how to be sarcastic or to read emotions. But this look in his eyes you can’t figure out; it’s dark and far off and seems to be trained on your knees of all places, from what you can tell of blotting your hair upside down.

This dance is like all the rest. You come barreling out of the bathroom all hand and lips and limbs and he practically throws you on the rounded mattress. Its like this every time, you throw your leg over his hip and he licks at your jaw and you moan and you cry out genuinely because you're sensitive and you love it.

You let yourself fall onto your back, not even putting your elbows down to break your fall. Adrian’s arms quickly cage you down like a vice, his entire body pushing onto yours, his weight apparent but not crushing. 

“Fuck, I’m so glad I can call you my wife,” he says, looking into your eyes but loud enough for any camera to hear. You roll your neck back, opening it up for him to kiss the full expanse of it and play the role of dutiful lover.

“My love,” you gasp, his mouth latching onto the skin above your jugular. He sets your skin aflame, makes you burn. Adrian kisses all the skin on your neck he can reach before he throws the covers over you. This is the finale piece.

And god, how you wish this was real. It feels like torture to be so close to the real thing and to not actually have it. Knowing that you’ll be pent up and jumpy for the rest of this mission and spend an entire night with your vibrator between your legs the moment debrief is over. That the expectation now, that’s what always happens.

What you don’t expect is for Adrian to push himself back from you to pull his shirt from his chest. Fucking hell, you think, your eyes following the reveal of skin, from his happy trail on his abs to the little dusting of chest hair on his sculpted pectorals, the finale being his broad shoulders that lead to arms strong enough to carry you like you’re weightless.

He spreads your legs and pushes himself between them, and you immediately curse yourself for not putting on underwear when you threw on your shorts. That meant your panties were somewhere in the bathroom and there were so many more chances to embarrass yourself now. He slots himself between your legs in a way that looks real. Anyone watching on the other side of that little red light wouldn’t know the difference. That was key to Plan H, something you and Adrian had actually fumbled through practicing in his apartment one night, setting up his phone in different vantage points and testing what motions looked real. 

Adrian pulls at the neckline of your sweatshirt, already stretched out from years of wear as you thread your fingers through his curls. God they feel so soft, so much more defined and luscious since you convinced him to ditch the five in one.

Adrian moans against your skin, and you go stiff. 

“Do it again,” he whispers, the breath of a laugh on his words and it’s only now that you realized you had tugged on his hair. 

You open your eyes to the sight of the mirror over the bed, taking in your appearance. Your hair is tangled and damp, you look like a drowned rat. Adrian however, is all rippling back muscles and reddened scar tissue from a nasty fight the two of you barely got out of making his pale skin look even more beautiful. Shit, this really looks real, the way he’s eagerly nipping at your collarbone and neck, the way he’s flexing his muscles and taking control of the situation. Adrian is many things, your best friend, a possible maniac, weapons expert, slightly emotionally stunted, but he could easily add erotic stand in on a movie set to that list.

You decide to help him out, hiking your parted knees up until they’re around his hips, and one of his hands grips the back of your knee and pushes the leg even farther. Without thinking, you let out the neediest whine you've ever heard, feeling your skin ignite. You have entirely too many clothes on. You watch your own eyes in the overhead mirror, pupils blown wide and a stray tear leaning from the outer corner, your lips fallen open in desperation. You’re fucked. 

You tear your eyes away from yourself, desperate to do anything but break your own heart over the fact that this is not at all real and you will have to sleep in this very bed with him tonight. Your gaze drifts to the smoke detector with its damned red light. 

It’s singular red light. 

Just one, not two. 

That means…

“Adrian! Adrian, stop,” your hands move to brace themselves on his chest, putting distance between you where his lips had made connection with the underside of your jaw.

He pulls apart like he’s been burned, all except for where your legs are still hitched around his waist. 

“What’s wrong, did I hurt you?”

His eyes are wide with panic, darting around your face to look for signs of pain, of anger, of disgust. You know exactly what he’s doing. He’s been searching for that disgusted look since high school and he’s never grown out of it. You know the look well, having watched him make it towards women at community college, as well as being on the receiving end of it once or twice.

“No,” you say, your hand rubbing at his shoulder to try to soothe him. As much as he tries to say he doesn’t have emotions, you can feel them in his tense muscles. 

“Ade, look at the smoke detector again.”

He does as you say, giving you a full view of his toned neck; gorgeous and just there for the biting and if this was real you would have wasted no time in sucking a dark hickey into the expanse of skin there, claiming him as your own for all to see. Not that he’s exactly someone who has people lining up to get with him, but still. If anyone wanted to they just couldn’t. 

“It’s the normal amount of lights,” he says, but he makes no move to get off of you. You don’t want him to though, and it’s not like you untangle your legs from his waist either. 

“They stopped watching,” he continues, eyes darting around, searching your face for a new game plan. 

“I guess we should…” you trail off, avoiding eye contact as much as possible and finally starting to slip you legs away from where you had so hastily wrapped them around him. You had made a mistake there, getting way too into it yourself. This isn't the kind of place where you can get selfish, you think, there are lives at stake.

Adrian’s eyes are dark with something unknown, his expression unreadable as he searches your face once more. 

“We don't have to,” his voice sounds so matter-of-fact.

“Adrian… what-” your eyebrows furrow as you wrack your brain trying to figure him out. You start to move your legs, unhooking your ankles and unlocking yourself from Adrian’s hips- when he stops you in your tracks; hand planted on your thighs to keep them in place.

“What if… What if I want to keep going?” he asks a bold question with an equally bold straightforward delivery. What if he wants to keep going? Is this a fucking joke? He isn't the type to joke like this.

“Do you?” you ask, ready to risk it all. The words are out of your mouth before you can weigh the consequences of them. 

Adrian scoffs.

“Duh,” he says, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. As if, of course, of course he would want to keep going, would want to keep ravaging you and throwing you into the deep end of this torture. 

“We… Our friendship,” you gasp, grasping at something almost dumbly.

“You mean our friendship that I already totally ruined?” he balks, as if you're late to the party, as if you should already know.

“Ruined?” you parrot, and his left hand shoots to your knee,keeping you from slipping away from him.

“Yeah, I mean like, by falling in love with you and shit. I thought you knew. Chris makes fun of me all the time,” he admits, and finally his grip on you loosens. He gives you every opportunity to move away and get out of this position. That look of bracing for disgust evident in his eyes again in full force and absolutely killing you. 

“Adrian,” you say, trailing off, the words confirming in failing on your tongue. Of course you'd heard Chris making fun of Adrian, but he makes fun of Adrian for everything so you figured it was better to ignore it.

Adrian pushes himself off of you to lean back on his knees, starting to pat the bed feeling around for his shirt. 

“Wait, Ade!” You almost scream, ready to beg as long as he stays exactly how he is. Between your legs.

He freezes, his expression unreadable to you for maybe the first time ever.

“What if I want to keep going too?” you ask, voice timid and far away, but your arms remain loose and planted around his neck. 

“Do you?” he asks, not at all hiding his enthusiasm. You fucking love that about him. He looks so excited. So happy, and knowing it's all for you...

You fucking kiss him instead of formally responding, arching your back and pushing yourself up to connect with him, forcing your lips to make contact so he knows, he knows, that you’re desperate for it. His tongue licks against your lips and you moan wantonly, not unlike your fake recon moan, but this time entirely real and something you fully intended on hiding until Adrian embarrassingly pulled it from you. 

You accept his tongue in your mouth eagerly, letting him take the lead and pulling more moans from you, absolutely kissing all of your resolve out of you.

“Fuck me, Ade,” you whisper, puling your lips away from his for a moment, ready to scream the same words if he asks.

“Me?” he asks, “You want me? Jesus, I’ve been waiting so long to hear that.”

“Not as long as me, I promise,” you laugh, and pull him back down onto you, fingers threading into his curls again.

You tug on his hair again as his teeth graze your bottom lip, earning an absolutely sinful groan from his lips. You've heard this man yell and scream and groan in pain but nothing like this; this is like heaven itself, better than any drug you could think of. Better than the indica strain in your vape that Adrian always yells at you for hitting in the Vigilante-mobile.

He bites down on your lip, not worrying about whether or not it hurts, reveling in the yelp you let loose against his mouth. Adrian’s hands travel up your thighs, over your hips and those little sweat shorts, squeezing right against your pelvic joints, and then finally they dip under your sweatshirt, his hot calloused hands against your smooth skin. 

“You know,” he starts, open mouth working its way back from your mouth to your jaw, “It kinda sucks they aren’t watching anymore. Woulda been hot.”

Your brain fries and short circuits at his words. You peek an eye open at him, eyes blissfully closed and still continuing his kissing as if that was the most normal thing for him to say. Honestly, you figured Adrian had to be into some kinky shit. You've heard him discuss his threesomes with Chris, and you've seen what the trunk of his sebring looks like. He can protest all he wants but you know the fuzzy pink handcuffs aren't for any kind of “bad guy” he could be up against. Plus, he just kills them. He doesn't exactly take prisoners.

“You wanted an audience for this?” Surprise more evident in your voice than you meant it to be. Part of you thinks you might have slipped and fell in the shower and this is some sort of hallucination or fucked up knock-out dream. 

His hips twitch and buck into yours, and you easily respond with a roll of your hips in return. 

“Want those fucks to see I finally got the girl,” he responds, rocking his hips back up into you again, but on purpose this time. His hands travel to your chest and your heart breaks for him a little. You know if this goes well you'll be his first real girlfriend. The first girl to spend more than one consecutive night, the first girl to do dishes and laundry with him, the first girl to not run because you know all the ugly shit he’s done and you already don't care. 

“Always had me, babe,” you pant. Your back arches off the mattress as you meet the movement of his hips, now working up a rhythm against each other.

“We both just needed to pretend to be married to get it right,” you joke, pushing him back only enough for you to wiggle out of your sweatshirt and throw it towards the edge of the bed. Now you know what Adebayo was talking about on the phone. You guys just work like that. Like a married couple, like a real couple. He laughs and starts kissing down your chest, immediately latching himself onto one breast while he grabs at your waist. You tug on his hair again as your other hand starts to travel his toned back. He’s absolutely beautiful, you think, running your fingertips over the freckles along his shoulder blades that you've memorized at this point.

“Need to-,” you gasp as he bites down on the underside of your breast, and you're sure youll be covered in marks by dawn, “Need to feel you.”

You aren't sure when you became a beggar, or maybe Adrian just made you one. 

“Oh you’ll feel me,” he promises, starting to kiss his way down your ribcage, down your stomach. He’s much more of a kisser than you imagined, much more attentive and much more loving. You almost feel bad for not thinking of him like this when you used to touch yourself to the thought of him. That feeling immediately dissolves when he then bites at your hip, his hands pulling at your shorts to give him more access to your skin. 

It’s awkward and fumbling to get you out of your shorts, not unlike two teens going at it on prom night, all nerves and fear and curiosity bound in eagerness. He tries to whip them off of your calves, resulting only in jerking your ankles up awkwardly, and the two of you burst into a comfortable laughter as you remove them yourself the rest of the way.

He freezes for a moment, finally seeing you completely bare. At first, it’s extremely flattering, his lips hanging open and his eyes wide as they search your form.

And then you find your arms slinking from their position on his shoulders to try to cover yourself, only to be stopped by Adrian himself. His rough hands wrap themselves around your wrists, pinning them down so they can’t go where you wanted. 

“Can’t hide from the Vigilante,” he jokes, bravado evident in his voice. 

You only roll your eyes and giggle in response.

“Please don’t tell me you’ll be Vigilante in bed too,” you counter. 

“Might chase you.”

You know he’s serious, just like you know he’s serious about wishing the camera was still watching. 

Heat floods your body, and suddenly all of this is so real, Adrian, his hips pressed against your bare body between your legs, his dusting of curly brown hair on his chest, the warm eyes behind glasses staring straight back into yours.

“Adrian…” you trail off, not sure what you're trying to say or ask. It's all just, the Adrian of it all.

“No, I’m serious, babe. I might chase you,” and everything in his tone tells you he’s serious.

“Please… Adrian,” you don't even finish the sentence, because he knows exactly what you're asking for. His hands abandon your wrists to find themselves on your hips again and his lips find your own. He kisses you deeply, like a promise, hard and slow as his fingers move eagerly. Featherlight touches you didn’t expect him capable of trail from your hips to the apex of your legs. You’re so thankful you shaved in the shower; you know Adrian wouldn’t actually give a fuck about body hair, but there’s just something about a first impression you can’t help but feel. 

You gasp against his mouth the moment his finger dips and bumps against your clit, clumsy, but perfect. He doesn't stop kissing you as he explores further, tracing circles against your clit delicately, and then more forcefully.

You can tell by the way he kisses you that he’s studying, testing the waters to see what gives you the most pleasure, what you react most to. He switches from his circular motion to a rocking back and forth of his fingertip over your clit, and you think it's lights out for a second; Fuck, it feels so good. 

“Oh, that's it,” he whispers, lips still smashed against yours. You can only whine in response, high pitched and needy. You try to arch your back, try to move in any way you can to get Adrian better access to you. He only pushes you further, his grip of one hand so tight on your hip it could bruise, the other working hard to make you feel good. But he doesn't even need to work that hard, with the way you are moaning and crying against him. Your skin burns under his touch, and freezes with the absence of it. You come alive like a wire tripped and electrified under him. You love it, and you knew you would,  but it feels so different from the idea of him and the real thing. There's so much romance here, even if Adrian’s lack of romance could possibly deny that.

“Fuckin’ love it,” you moan against him, and he tries to roll his hips, incapacitated by his own hand. Quickly he pulls himself away letting his sweatpants clothed cock shove against you.

You can feel it, sort of. You can feel that his cock is big and that he knows how to move his hips but you want to know everything about it, want to memorize every ride and twist and dip of his body.

You pull your lips from his, ripping yourself to the side just long enough to speak.

“Gimme all of it,” you beg, and he absolutely does not hesitate. Adrian removes his hand from where he's working you over to the waistband of his pants so he can free himself for you. 

He wiggles his sweatpants down awkwardly, fumbling and tangled up, but frees himself without any comment from you. You can’t say that you were exactly graceful either, the eagerness taking over your motor skills momentarily.

Adrian pauses for a second, letting the moment sink in. You’re bare before each other for the first time on purpose. It’s not like when he would come in through your window unannounced after work and you’d scream and throw shoes at him. It’s full of lust and love and sheer nerves. For both of you, it isn't your first time, but as he pushes into you without weird decorum of virginity, it feels almost alien, but at the same time, this is how it's supposed to happen. He bottoms out with a little smile, searching your face for any sign of pain or discomfort. If he finds any, it fades away quickly with a kiss. His eyes are the prettiest shade of brown, you think, feeling your own little smile grace your lips. 

“Guess the newlywed cabin is living up to its name finally,” you joke, stopping again to press a kiss against his lips, “only took, what, multiple missions?”

Seven. It took seven missions.

Adrian snaps at this point. His hips move, completely without warning to thrust back out and into you again, so roughly and perfectly Adrian that it feels too good. It's everything you imagined and more.

“Wish this was happening every time,” He thrusts more, “Imagined us actually married.” 

He moans, relinquishing his self control to how good it feels. All of your nerves were already on fire, but his words kick you into overdrive, the same way that when you hold your finger over a candle too long it feels almost cold. Your nails rake down his back as his pace picks up, your legs around his back giving you leverage to thrust back on every snap of his hips. 

“Wanna be yours,” you moan, your head thrown back against the pillow to give yourself better leverage to arch your back.

“Wish that fuckin’ camera was still on,” He groans, “Want everyone to know you’re mine.”

He dips his head down, first connecting with the underside of your jaw, then to the side of your neck where he bites down, hard and unapologetic; You know it's gonna bruise up to a dark purple by morning.

“Fuck,” you moan, “Keep that up and they’re gonna.”

Adrian only laughs against your skin, and bites down again. He doesn’t falter or change his pace, his hips always snapping recklessly against you. You feel more full than you ever have, something about Adrian invading all of your senses and overwhelming all of them has you a mess already. You’re sure he’s gonna last longer than you, already your body feeling like it’s floating in space and already your mind drowning in everything Adrian.

“Adri-” you whine, but off by your own voice, as your body jolts under his touch. More accurately, his slap. Its light and playful and just enough to drive you that much further towards the edge.

“Oh… You liked that?” 

You nod.

He laughs, scrunching his nose to try and push his glasses back up his nose.

“I knew you would. Had to be kinky if you were into me,” he sighs, before slapping your cheek again a little harder, and you find your moan melting into a laugh. He’s so effortlessly hot while still being adorable Adrian. He knows you so well.

“Fuck me harder, babe,” you beg, finding it harder and harder to form words as tension rises in your body, your body overheated and every nerve like fireworks. Adrian seems to be spurred on even more by the pet name, immediately pushing into you even harder the second you call him babe. 

You can feel your orgasm building quickly, now completely sure you're gonna finish before him. He pistons into you, hips pressing flush against you, his balls against your ass. He’s no longer pulling all the way out, instead staying deep inside you and grinding his hips harder into you. It's absolutely driving you wild, moans and whines spilling from your lips. You're close, so incredibly close, and there's no way he can’t feel it from his position. He presses his whole being against you, his sweaty chest against you, his forehead pressed against yours. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck, this is even more perfect than you ever could have imagined. And now you see it, the way Adrian could so easily pretend you were actually married. How easily all of this came to you both, how well you knew each other's bodies without ever doing this before. That deeper feeling without a name.

Your fingers move from his back, surely scratched and maybe even a little ripped up from your nails, and to his scalp, to those bouncy curls that you always look for in a crowded room.

“Fuck!” Adrian practically shouts as you pull at them, rutting harder into you even still. That pushes you over the edge, and you barely register the shaking of your legs or the low moan in your throat as your fist tightens in his hair. 

“Goddamn,” he chuckles, hands leaving their place on the mattress to cup your cheeks as he lets you come down from your high and finishes off himself. You whine almost pitifully as you can feel the searing heat of him spilling inside you, and he just soothes you with the sweetest kisses you've ever tasted. He stays there a little while, a lot more gentle and intuitive than you expected of him. He wipes away tears you hadn't realized had fallen and he lets you catch your breath. 

“My pretty wife,” he sighs, moving slowly as he finally pulls out of you, the sting of his departure and the cool air of the cabin knocking you like a wave. 

“Not your wife,” you correct him, but your voice is full of love and exhaustion. 

Not your wife, yet, at least. You can't afford to get ahead of yourself, especially not when you work on this team, but you let the thought pass through your mind without punishing yourself at least. 

Adrian just laughs, full and boisterous as he pulls you into his chest and holds you there in an iron grip. You think for a moment, that maybe he does that so you won't leave. You weren't planning on it anyway. 

“I still wish the camera was on,” he sighs, pressing a kiss to your hairline. 

“I know, babe,” you mumble, eyes getting heavier. 

And then. 

“Wait, Adrian, can we circle back to the thing where I don't think you own a smoke detector?”

slip of the tongue part 3 - reckoning

Theseus Scamander x Reader

"Keep your hands to yourself!" You snap, trying to infuse as much venom into your voice as possible. "I can't," he groans.

summary: a second mission with newt and the group reintroduces theseus's former fiancée, leta lestrange, into the mix. old wounds and insecurities flare as you both reckon with your pasts and make decisions that determine your future.

fem!reader. theseus scamander x reader.

category: romance with plot. some smut. slight angst!! non-canon compliant.

warnings: 18+ smut, semi-public inappropriate touching, dirty talk, hand kink

part one / part two / part three

author's note: it's funny how the title of this fic doesn't really fit anymore HAHA, goes to show that i did not plan this story at all. this part is going to be LONGER & more focused on plot & their character development! hope you enjoy, as always let me know if you'd like me to continue :)

The surreal, electric buzz from the gala dissipates as soon as you enter the elevator at the Hotel de Rome with Theseus.

Theseus's jacket is so large you're practically drowning in it, the sleeves hang well past your hands. You feel like a little girl in a nightgown. The elevator pulleys burr mechanically as it slowly rises, the electric bulb light casting your face in a sickly, ghastly light. The backs of your high heels have begun to dig painfully into your skin, that stinging pain the only thing grounding you to reality, that and Theseus's warm body beside you. You're positive your feet are bleeding.

Your weariness is mirrored in everyone else's faces when you walk into the hotel room at last. It's obvious that they're all overextended. There's no semblance of victoriousness, even after your successful heist.

Newt stands, alert, at the sight of his brother.

"Theseus! Finally, I was beginning to worry-"

"I'm fine, brother," Theseus waves him off. His hair is slightly damp from the snowfall, and his dress shirt as well. "We got caught up, but we're fine."

When Newt turns to speak to you, his lips part but no words come out. He's staring at your mouth. He looks pale and horrified.

"What?" You turn to the others and to Theseus in uncertainty. Tina and Jacob are also looking at you with newfound distress, but Theseus seems as clueless as you, frowning warily at Newt.

Newt makes as if to bring a hand to your face but pulls back at the last moment.

"Oh dear," Newt says. "Y-Your lipstick is smeared... I'm so terribly sorry, Y/N. And your hair—I didn’t think Dietrich would actually-"

Theseus half-raises an arm, cutting his brother short, looking admonished. 

“Actually, Newt, that would be my doing...”

Your face warms considerably. Newt chokes on his words.

“Oh…” He turns to the rest of the group, his face nearly flushed as yours. Jacob lets out a strangled noise and Tina does a discreet double-take between you and Theseus.

“Well,” says Newt, mercifully changing the subject. “We all made off fantastically. Good work.”

You want to share in his congratulations, but it feels premature with Grindelwald still at large. It doesn't feel as though you have much to celebrate in this tiny hotel room, the five of you still standing awkwardly in your evening wear.

"What now?" Asks Tina.

Newt sits on one of the two twin-sized beds and hunches over, forearms on his legs. He is your designated leader, but you have to admit he looks so small and frail without his coat. Thin and unsure of himself.

"I have it on good authority that Credence will be at a mausoleum in the French Alps. He could be heading there now, we have no way of knowing, but he is planning on going there soon. Tomorrow, maybe."

"Why?" Tina's face is full of emotion. You don't know who Credence is, or why he is important to the resistance, but you don't feel that now is the time to ask. It stuns you, the subtlety of her expression, how someone can look so crushed and full of love at once.

"He's, erm, searching for his ancestral records I believe," Newt answers. "The Lestrange artifacts and family tree were moved there from the cemetery in Paris, possibly by Grindelwald. This is likely all a trap set for Credence, but this could very well be our last chance to intercept him. To save him."

Tina is speechless, Jacob nods solemnly.

"Y/N," says Newt. It startles you to hear him say your name in all of this deliberation. "I know you probably don't understand half of what we're saying, and we understand if you don't want to come. But we'll likely run into Grindelwald and his followers. They're after Credence. We could use you."

You don't even have to think.

"Of course, Newt. I go where Theseus goes." You wonder if you sound too intense, too devoted, so you add: "And besides, I want to be of any help that I can."

Theseus reaches out and clasps your hand in his. It thrills you, for him to do this in front of his brother, in front of the others. Your heart races, happily so.

Newt smiles at the sight.

"Sleep," he turns to everyone. "We leave first thing in the morning."

----

The next day, by the time you make it to the French Alps in spats of apparition and stretches of traveling by train, it is nearly dusk again.

You and Theseus had slept like the dead in the too-small hotel room bed, with Tina in the other bed and Jacob and Newt, in a turn of events beyond your understanding, in some hidden compartment within Newt's brown leather suitcase. Strange, but you didn't question it. Your bodies ached when you woke, but it felt like heaven to you, being held by him, you wouldn't have traded it for the world.

"I'm too big for this bed," he lamented, stretching his limbs, when the two of you woke in the morning.

"Hmm, yeah. Too big... " When you smiled coyly and narrowed your eyes at him he threw a pillow at your face. You caught it with a laugh.

"Naughty," he chided.

"The resistance," as Theseus had once jokingly called it, turned out to be not so glamorous after all. The resistance was perpetually tired and forever embarking on some haphazard plans only half-understood.

But when you set foot at the base of the mountains in the Alps, you feel bizarrely energized. This is what you imagined the work of an Auror would be like, chasing leads, pursuing justice through crowded cities and rugged terrain. It feels good to be so proactive after a year of being more or less cooped up in an office at the Ministry. And, best of all, Theseus is here with you. And he wants you, if not your heart then your body, at last, at least...

"This can't be it, Newt," you hear Jacob say, his breath pluming in front of him in small huffs. He struggles through the thick snowbed to catch up to Newt, who is a bit ahead of the group. You're in what looks like a forest clearing, the mountains rise in the distance, gargantuan and feeling a bit holy in their emptiness, their silence.

"He's right. There's nothing out here," calls Tina.

It's a winter forest. A killing wood. In truth, you’ve never been so cold in your entire life. The whole world has turned white as death: white blizzard blotting the air, thick blankets of fresh snow carpet the ground, and everywhere outside the clearing are great white pines standing like sentries, their edges blurred and softened by the snow fog.

You can see what’s in front of you, but you can’t see what’s coming.

Newt walks clumsily back through the budding blizzard to rejoin the group.

"The mausoleum should be a bit uphill from here!" He assures. "It's concealed by magic. Credence doesn't know, but we need someone with the blood of a Lestrange to enter."

The blood of a Lestrange.

Before you can even make the connection, Theseus stiffens beside you and drops your hand.

"Newt, you didn't." His voice is grave.

"I'm so sorry."

You wonder in a shrugging, aloof way why Newt looks to you after saying this to Theseus. It still doesn't mean anything to you.

A branch cracks, a high, ear-splitting sound like a broken bone. When you see the figure emerge from the tree line, your hand is already on your wand.

Grindelwald, you think.

But then Theseus's arm snaps out to yours, stilling your hand, almost just as quick.

"Don't." He says.

She approaches you slowly and you make out who it is almost immediately, just by the shape of her silhouette. Theseus and Newt's reactions make sense now, it all clicks into place with resounding dread. You feel the word "oh" in the pit of your stomach like a dropped stone.

Floating from the forest like that, in her wine-colored silk dress and black coat, Leta Lestrange really does look something like a ghost, or an angel...

When she approaches she walks straight to Theseus.

"Newt wrote to me," she says loud enough for everyone to hear, but she is only looking at Theseus. Looking at him like she's searching for some lifeline there. "Credence thinks he's my brother... We both know this cannot be true. I can help you get inside the mausoleum. I want to help you."

You dare to look at Theseus, bracing yourself. He looks genuinely stricken, lips parted, palms open and hanging limp beside him. So little affects him, he's so confident and secure in himself. But there in the clearing, the look on his face...

Before anyone can speak Newt steps forward again.

"I'm so sorry, but we need to get to Credence before Grindelwald. We have to go. Credence is... sensitive. He's afraid. It's best Tina and I go ahead. Leta, Theseus," he turns to the two, who are having some silent conversation with their eyes. It's so private and familiar you have to look away, you want to scream. "You two follow closely behind."

"What about me?" Jacob chimes in with a nervous laugh.

Newt tilts his head and gives Jacob a sympathetic smile.

"Don't worry, my friend. I won't leave you to the wolves. Y/N is a brilliant duelist and a master of all sorts of charms. You two will stay at the very back and wait outside the mausoleum. We can't afford to frighten Credence, and you need to alert us if you see any of Grindelwald's followers coming our way."

You nod numbly. Some roaring white noise fills your ears, anesthetizing the scene in front of you.

"Theseus," you hear Leta say softly. She places a gloved hand on his forearm. "Can I speak with you on the way there?"

"Of course," he responds, graciously, easily. She leads him up ahead.

You keep hoping Theseus will turn to you, even just to look back at you, to reassure, to reconnect now that Leta has been thrust back into the mix between you.

He does not turn back. You stare blankly at the back of his head as it disappears in the blurring snow. He follows Leta into the woods like a man being swept away by magic, following some siren song you can't hear.

'I can't compete with her,' you realize achingly. The truth rings dully in the pit of your stomach, metallically. 'They were engaged. They've been connected since childhood... I'm nothing.'

You try not to wring your hands or shuffle your feet, try not to look like someone left behind, wounded. You blink at the delicate crystals of snow that land on your lashes, hoping that the others don't mistake them for tears.

Newt comes over to you cautiously. He's not one for knowing what to say, but he's perceptive, and kind. Sinking, sinking, you can feel your heart being pulled to your feet and swallowed by the ground.

"Y/N," he begins. "I'm sure... When they were together—but when they separated…" He swallows and starts again. "I’m quite sure my brother’s mind is made up. I know he cares for you too, though I don’t know if he made you any promises-"

“He did not,” your voice sounds acrid, bitter to your ears, petulant, and you hate it. “It’s fine, really.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, it’s okay. He doesn’t owe me anything.” 

'And I don't owe him anything,' you finish in your mind. When really you love him like breathing, need him like water. You're just trying not to let it show.

You want to be nonchalant and unaffected, want to give only what he’ll take. You don’t want to ask for too much. 

You don’t know why loving always takes the form of limitation with you. You withheld your feelings for him for nearly a year. You only ever do what he asks. You turned down jobs and tried your best not to burden him with your feelings, with your past.

Why this mode of loving, why starvation and restraint, when love itself, for you, felt like every door in you burst open at the sight of his face? It was a wild and unwieldy joy, a freeing sort of affection that you felt for him. Now and always. 

You swallow thickly, embarrassed at the speed at which he abandoned you for her. Embarrassed by the way Tina and Newt and Jacob, even, are looking at you.

"Let's go," you say, trying to sound encouraging. Newt and Tina run ahead. You and Jacob walk in silence uphill, trudging through the snow.

----

In the end you don't see any action at all. The mausoleum appeared at Leta's beckoning, a wave of her wand and the stunning glass building, hexagonal, glittered into solidity in front of you. You and Jacob waited outside, as instructed, but through the thick, crystalline glass you could make out that the bodies and artifacts were housed in beautiful stone tombs, scattered in the glass room like giant chess pieces, and you could see what unfolded within.

Leta, Newt, and Tina were talking to Credence. They met him down where he was crouched on the floor, explaining something to him in hushed tones. He was sobbing so softly. And then he was gone, and so was Tina, who left with him.

You feel so utterly mute, so adrift, you're glad that Jacob doesn't speak to you.

Newt is the one who jogs out to you and Jacob. Theseus is still inside talking to Leta, who seems sad in a soft, unperturbed way. He's gazing at her so gently as she speaks. It's the way he looks at small animals, and children, and the people he loves.

Looking at them feels like looking at a photograph, or like looking through the windows at Primrose Hill when you were a child, before you'd outgrown the title of "orphan." You would escape the orphanage to peek into the townhouses, the family homes overlooking Regent's Park. Dining tables and grand pianos, all the lights on. Nothing to hide...

"Y/N," Newt says breathlessly. "We better get going. We beat Grindelwald here, but I don't know by how much."

You cross your arms to help with the cold.

"Okay. Where are we going-"

"Oh, it's probably best if you go back to London. Back to the Ministry. Lay low until you hear from me, or Dumbledore."

You don't know why his goodbye is so cutting. You know that he's not abandoning you too, but it's almost too much.

He purses his lips sympathetically.

"Stay safe, Y/N. Grindelwald is planning something big. But if we act any earlier Grindelwald and the Ministry will be onto us and our efforts will have been in vain."

"I know," you say. "I understand."

You apparate away without another word. You try not to think about the two of them, in the forest clearing, in the glass mausoleum, together in all the years before that, but you allow yourself to wonder when Theseus will notice that you're gone.

----

On Monday you call in sick. You've never called in sick once in your entire time at the Ministry, so your request for a sick day is accepted easily and without complaint.

You sleep the whole day and do not answer the door when you hear the knocks. Knowing who they belong to is agonizing enough. He'd never been to your place before, but you can't imagine that it was difficult for him to procure the address.

You wake from your day of fitful, restless sleeping around 2am. Moonlight streams cold and bright through your chiffon curtains, filling your apartment with blue and silver shadows that you find comforting, beautiful maybe.

When you pad out into your living room, barefoot, you see a letter on the hardwood floor. A creamy envelope that had been slipped under the doorframe, waiting there for you like magic.

You bend down to pick it up and open it. There's nothing on the envelope itself, but you'd know him by handwriting alone, by his breathing, his scent.

Dear Y/N,

I know you're not sick. Because you're never sick. You have the most formidable immune system I've ever come across and I think muggle doctors should study you in a lab for it. But, I confess, that's beside the point...

I know you're cross with me. Please, if I have upset you or, worse, if I've broken your heart, I can assure you it was never my intention. Meaning: if I hurt you it is because I am a fool, and not because you are deserving of any hurt.

Forgive me for my behavior yesterday. I needed to resolve some things, and Leta's arrival was a true shock for me. I behaved poorly to you, but even more unforgivably to Leta, who I left mere weeks before our wedding, confessing my love for another woman. The pain I've caused her haunts me, and I was happy to be absolved of it yesterday evening. Happy to answer her questions and to be forgiven. But I should not have left you there alone. I should not have let go of your hand. I damn myself, because as much as I love you, it seems I've never been able to do it well.

I hope this pitiful explanation and guileless apology will suffice. Come, pretty girl. Come to work tomorrow, I beg you. My whole life is on the floor without you, nothing works, my head's a mess.

Yours,

T

You heart clenches painfully. Your lungs constrict and your hand tightens around the letter. You love him. You want to let it go, what happened between him and Leta, and you and him, in the clearing.

But you can't.

----

Apparently, it's going to be a week of first-times. Because, also for the first time in your career at the Ministry, you are running late.

"Fuck," you hiss to yourself. You hate traveling by Floo Flame, are used to the muggle comforts of walking and the London Underground, but you don't have time.

You dust off the fireplace ash from your shoulders as you walk through the British Ministry.

"Y/N!" you hear. The voice slices through the bustle and noise of the suit-clad workers not with its volume but with its familiarity.

It's him.

'Oh, god. Already?' You'd been hoping to avoid Theseus today. An impossible task, considering he was your boss, but you'd taken on more impossible tasks before. Bigger monsters.

"Y/N, hold on!" Theseus shouts again.

You have to speed up your walking to a near-comical pace to escape his long-legged strides. Hard to do in heels.

You turn your body sideways and push forward through a thicket of office workers with an "Excuse me! So sorry!" to shoulder your way into an empty elevator.

You slump against the back wall, exhaling deeply in relief. No Theseus-encounter after all. You really managed to-

"Aha!" Theseus exclaims, interjecting his overstretched hand just as the elevator doors begin to close. "Perfect. I was just looking for you, Y/N."

You don't respond, but huff in indignation and move aside, making room for him in the small elevator. He presses your floor number, level two, looking far too self-satisfied for someone who just ran across the marble floors of the Ministry of Magic, unrepentantly.

Your heart pounds as the elevator begins to move, you don't know why you can't look at him. Maybe it's because you know, if you did, all would be forgiven. You jolt when he leans forward and pulls the emergency break. The elevator comes to a jerking, screeching halt.

When he looks at you, sidelong, your stomach flips.

"C'mere," he mumbles, and moves to trap your body against the wall.

Your body responds differently than your mouth, arching against the wall, pushing closer to him.

"Ugh, no," you say, mournfully. You want it bad, want him. But you're still angry. It's oddly possessing, the notion that just a kiss from him could save you.

Your words do give him pause, however. He's standing so close to you he basically has you up against the wall, there's no escaping him. His chest heaves, you can feel his breath against your face. You want to press his open mouth to yours, to taste it, open yours to his tongue.

"No?" He echoes dubiously. "Did... did you not get my letter?"

"I got your letter," you retort, feeling flustered. "I found it... insufficient."

He starts forward again, a hand cups your ass. You slap it away.

"Keep your hands to yourself!" You snap, trying to infuse as much venom into your voice as possible.

"I can't," he groans.

"Try harder."

"I am rational and measured about all things in life, except for this, for you."

"Try harder," you say again, more forcefully, ignoring him.

"Hmm," he hums, considering. You don't move this time when his hand traces your thigh through the material of your skirt, you just stare, mesmerized. Your skin breaks out in chills. His fingertips move in lazy, dancing circles.

His hands, his fucking hands. They're so big. Long, elegant fingers with large knuckles. The veins there, the fact that you know what his fingers feel like inside of you...

Theseus follows your gaze with his eyes and scoffs, but not unkindly.

"You want my fingers inside of you, baby?"

He doesn't wait, and when you don't protest he doesn't stop. His hands slide under your skirt, one of his thumbs is pressing firmly against your clit through the lacy material of your underwear. He applies such a steady, unmoving pressure, staring into your eyes relentlessly and leaning his thumb harder and harder into that one spot until you squirm back against the wall with a ragged moan, breaking his burning gaze, not sure if you're more desperate to escape the sensation or to keep feeling it, over and over again.

"Theseus," his name sounds filthy out of your mouth, heady as a moan, though you're actually trying to tell him something. "Really, I just-"

The elevator lurches forward again, shuddering in place for a few moments before resuming its path with a piercing screech. You tumble into Theseus, losing your balance, and he catches you with both his arms.

"What did-"

"I don't know," he says, helping you right yourself, looking over his shoulder at the doors.

The elevator stops at level six, the Department of Magical Transportation. Your face is still flushed red and tingling with heat when the ornamental brass doors slide open and the two of you are greeted by a curious, gawking group of wizards that includes the department head, Mr. Silas Elodius.

"Oh, heavens! Mr. Scamander, it's you," Silas Elodius is a unfailingly happy, plump man. "We were wondering what must've happened! It seemed the two of you got stuck. Well, all sorted now!" He laughs heartily. "Trust our department to get you moving again."

Theseus returns the laugh, a little less enthusiastically. The both of you move against the back wall of the elevator to allow the large group to shuffle in.

"Excuse us, we're headed to level three," Silas smiles wildly, toothily. He tends to talk through his smiling, which makes his next admission all the more horrific. "Terrible accident involving a misplaced potion bottle on the Knight Bus! Boom! Limbs lost. Really nasty business."

"Erm," Theseus seems shaken, at a loss of how to respond, which is uncommon for him. "We'll be level two."

"Right, of course!" Mr. Elodius motions impatiently for one of his several colleagues to press the button. With the combined weight of everyone there, the elevator moves slowly, dragging sluggishly upwards through space. Thankfully, the group does not turn back to you or Theseus, preoccupied with their own small conversations.

Your heart is still thumping pitifully, your pussy still throbbing and aching around nothing, craving his fingers, stuffed inside. You're wet, and there is no relief in sight. But you still want, need, to be mad at him.

"Y/N," Theseus is leaning in, speaking so low that only you can hear him. The sound of your name in his mouth, it's a purr, a plea.

You shudder. "Theseus, please don't."

"If this were my office," he whispers. His hand returns to the front of your skirt, slips beneath the hemline and nudges your underwear aside, slides up, embarrassingly easily, between your slick folds. You lean back against the wall in silent prayer, for him. You're frozen, incapable of moving, incapable of telling him to stop.

"If this were my office," he continues, voice thick and ragged. His finger moves leisurely, pumping in and out, driving you crazy. "I'd have you on my desk with your legs up. And I'd lick you until you cried. I bet you're such a pretty crier. I wanna make you come on my mouth, my tongue."

It takes everything in you to remain quiet, to remain still. Just as you begin to lose yourself in the feeling, your head going pleasantly fuzzy, the elevator dings and he retracts his hand, smoothly, unfussily.

He looks so unaffected, leaning back against the wall. It's you who has to bow your head to avoid Mr. Elodius's eyeline. Your knees tremble.

"Well, this is us! Best of luck, Scamander." Mr. Elodius waits for his people to file out of the elevator before departing.

Theseus salutes him with two fingers, in a charmingly youthful way.

When the doors close again you've recovered more of yourself, your wits.

"Where were we?" He corners you again, kissing the side of your neck.

"I'm mad at you, Theseus." You don't stop him from kissing your neck, but you grip his wrist, haltingly hard, when it starts to reach under your skirt again.

"Mm," he hums against your throat, noting the way you expose more of it, craning it for his access. "No, you're not."

With a nip of his teeth, he extracts a whine and a tremor down your legs. You imagine his hands, his beautiful big hands, coming around your throat, squeezing, applying pressure there until you go light-headed. You want to be choked by him. You want to get down on your knees in this elevator and unbuckle his belt and take him into your mouth until he's the one who is needy and whining, wanting it bad, moaning and praising you, calling you a good girl.

The elevator dings for the final time and you have to physically push him off of you. He falls back without a fight.

"Our floor," you say, trying to make your expression into something like a glare. You're not very good at resenting him.

For a moment you're not sure what he's going to do to you. It's scandalizing and rousing, the idea that he might grab you, touch you anyway. The look in his eyes is black and beyond hungry, sapped of all restraint. He gulps and clenches his jaw. Blinks at last.

Ever the gentleman.

"Of course, after you," Theseus says. He motions for you to walk ahead of him.

You stomp off to your shared office, trying pathetically to fix your skirt and your hair and any other part of you that looks disheveled.

When he comes into his office behind you and closes the door, latching the lock, he looks equally undone. Vulnerable almost. It's not only that he needs you, which he does, but that he wants to make it okay and doesn't know how.

"Y/N," he makes a vague, defenseless gesture, throwing up his arms weakly, and sighs. "I don't.... How can I make it right? How can I make it up to you?"

It's a cheerless, pitiful noise, your responding laugh.

"Don't worry, Theseus. I got your letter. And besides, I manage my hopes quite well on my own."

"I wish you wouldn't. Don't."

You scoff.

"No, it's my fault for hoping for more from you. You're asking me to, what, put my faith in the world?" You know your tone is sharper than intended, and your expression is that of a burned woman, hardened and jaded.

But he doesn't hold it against you. You try not to flinch away when he steps forward and brings a hand up to your face, to your cheek.

"No, I'm asking you to put your faith in me."

You could cry at this tenderness he's affording you.

"I just," you gently place your hand over his and lower it from your face. "I just can't believe that you don't feel anything for her. I can't shake the way I felt watching you leave me, without a second glance."

Your voice breaks on the last word. You're admitting more than you bargained for. Admitting that this is the way you've felt your entire life. The orphanage, your parents, every adult who promised to help you, to save you, and didn't. It was too familiar of a pain for it to hurt as badly as it did, being left behind.

"Leta, she... I don't know what you mean," he says, shaking his head.

“Theseus, I'm not stupid! I saw the way you went after her! The way you left me behind, it was like I ceased to exist. You obviously still have feelings for her—"

“I have feelings for you!" He raises his voice in frustration, and it startles you. "She’s the one I left behind, for you.” 

You feel so worked up, so overheated. You don't want to be fighting with him, not now, not ever.

"I-I don't believe you-"

"Y/N, you are essentially calling me a liar right now. I don't know what else I can say to make you believe it, you act as if I took off with her and kissed her-"

"You didn't have to! You already have been for the last two years, Theseus!" Your hands are wavering, your bottom lip too. "I don't believe you because, if it's true what you told me, about you leaving her for me, why didn't you act in the months after?! You proposed to Leta mere months after dating, but for the months you were single you didn't try to-"

"I was your boss, Y/N! I was trying to be a good man, a good friend!" He rakes a hand through his hair roughly.

"So I'm just supposed to believe that you left your fiancée to live a life as my friend? To continue working with me like-"

“I apologize if that’s too difficult for you to believe, but that doesn’t change the fact that it’s true.” His tone is brusque, almost business-like.

It's like a shot to the heart. His lack of understanding, lack of seeing.

“Too difficult for me to believe? Me?!” You’ve never raised your voice at him like this, every word is straining out of you, painfully. Any semblance of control you had is unspooling, rapidly. “Theseus, my second month here I was offered a position as an Auror, my dream job, what I’d worked so hard for at school, and I turned it down to keep being your assistant! I turned it down to keep living a life in your shadow. I thought that if I could make myself smaller for you I could-"

You can’t continue, the tears rise up in a saltwater tide in your lungs. You turn your head away, quick, so he doesn’t see your face break.

"Y/N," he says, gentle, broken. "Y/N, I'm sorry. I had no idea."

"Maybe you didn't want to know. I... I know you desire me, Theseus. I'm sorry, at one point I thought I could just sleep with you, and I wouldn't need anything more, but.... Oh, god, I'm sorry."

You rub at your eyes aggressively, even as the tears continue to fall, in a self-conscious and fruitless display.

He looks so lost, looks like he very badly wants to comfort you, to hug you, but no longer knows if he's allowed to.

"Y/N, I can recommend you for promotion, I can-"

"It's fine, Theseus. I made my decision and I've lived with it. There are no open positions right now anyway, the post was filled."

It's silent for long enough that the quiet no longer hangs there like an awful, third body between you. You regain your composure, the tears pass and give way to a hollow feeling.

"Y/N," Theseus speaks at last. He's standing across his office still, but the look in his eyes is so full of longing and yearning, he could've been across a train platform, a crowded room, a continent. "I have not been doing this right. I should've asked you to be my girlfriend a long time ago, I know. For that I am ashamed. But..."

He licks his lips and inhales sharply, trying to find the words.

"Y/N, please don't accuse me of lusting after you. What I feel for you is nothing so shallow as lust. Yes, I want to be inside you all the time, but that's because being close to you, this," he steps forward and places a cold hand against your chest demonstratively, below your neck, skin to skin, "This isn't close enough."

You look up into his seaglass eyes, your heart in tatters. Him, it's always been him.

"I miss you when I'm with you," he says. "I love you, I've told you before and I'll tell you again and again, but it's up to you to believe it, sweetheart."

When you still don't say anything, can't find the words, he looks crestfallen, closes his eyes.

"What do you want?" he asks you, opening them.

And you can't answer. To love him freely? To feel held and chosen by him? To live your dreams and relinquish your past without shame or grief or hesitation? Before you begin to say anything at all, the words building and budding at the back of your throat like a flower about to bloom, a knock sounds at the door.

Theseus closes his eyes and sighs, pained.

"Theseus-"

"I have to go," he says tersely. "I've been gone with my brother for too long. The department heads have called me in for questioning. I don't know when I'll be out."

You nod, swallowing.

He looks at your face, a look of determination settling on his.

"I promise to make it right."

----

It's past closing time and Theseus still has not returned from the depths of whatever secret, dim-lit corner of the Ministry they took him to for questioning. All day you've spent heartlessly filling out paperwork, finishing up your research assignments, stewing in anxiety.

Please, keep him safe. You think to no one in particular. Please.

You reluctantly leave the office, hoping to find him in the Atrium. You sit there glumly at the edge of the fountain, shooting periodic glances towards the elevators and the staircases, hoping to see him emerging from the Department of Mysteries, maybe, or the Courtrooms. Even the paper missives, usually magicked into airplane and bird shapes, have stopped flying overhead in the Atrium. The Ministry is emptying out, there's hardly any foot traffic at all.

You feel as though you handled everything, your insecurities and emotions, so artlessly, so recklessly in your last conversation. You are aching to make it better.

Eventually, you walk back to level two in a daze, pushing through the heavy oak door to the Aurors Offices with all the attention of a sleepwalker, your mind elsewhere.

You nearly trip on the house elf in front of the door when you stumble into Theseus's office. The elf grumbles in discontent.

House elves? Your shared office is hardly recognizable. Half-cleaned out, three Ministry house elves are busy at work, boxing and taping and scrubbing the furniture and shelves clean. Your stomach lurches.

Theseus. Where are all his things? Was he found out? Arrested?

Your voice sounds like a stranger's to your ears, so transformed by sheer panic.

"Hello, excuse me!" You say to one of the house elves. He looks over in open disdain, though you can't blame him, seeing as you almost crushed him just now. "Hi, yes, what is going on? What are you doing with Mr. Scamander's things? I'm his assistant."

"Mr. Scamander," the elf drawls, setting aside his mop bucket with a melodramatic thunk and splash. "No longer works here."

The elf tries to turn back to his work when you lunge forward and grasp him by the shoulder. He looks at your hand on him in abject shock.

"Please!" You beg, falling to your knees to better convince the house elf. "I need to know what's happened to him, it's important."

"Nothing has happened to him, miss. He turned in his letter of resignation an hour or so ago!" The elf shakes you off of him, none too gently.

He gestures rudely to the two, untouched pieces of paper laid out on the desk. Everything else has been cleared.

You snatch up the nearest page with a shaking hand, eyes racing over the words.

It's from the heads of your department, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and it confirms what the elf told you. Theseus gave up his position and designated you as the one he desired to fill the post. The Aurorship is yours.

The letter requested that you complete a trial period of one month, as it was unheard of for a witch with no Auror experience to take up the Head Auror post. But they were amenable if the trial period went well. These were dark days, recruits were scarce and few other Aurors were jumping to fill the position. Your confirmation meeting with the department heads was to be after work, at 7pm.

It's nearly that time now.

You blink at the words on the page, astounded and a bit shell-shocked.

You're hardly thinking at all when you pick up the second letter, hands moving with an automaton, detached fluidity.

Dearest Y/N,

The questioning did not go well. I had to act quickly, darling. I was thinking only of you.

Take the Head Auror position and be safe and happy forever. Blamelessly, and knowing you are loved.

Or, meet me at King's Cross Station tonight, at 7:15pm. If you'll have me, if you love me. I'm joining the fight against Grindelwald, for good. I'm meeting my brother and the others at Hogsmeade.

I am horrified that you ever put me over your dreams, and that I gave you so little in return for it. If I could turn back time, I would've done it all differently. I would've made you mine.

My love, you couldn't answer me when I asked you what you wanted today, so I wanted to give you this choice now.

It did not make much sense for me to stay at the Ministry. They were suspicious of me from the start, war hero or not, because of my relation to Newt. You could do wonderful things, have so much more influence than I could. There were no other open Auror positions for you to take but mine, but I can give you this one part of my life, easily. God knows I'd give you the rest if you asked.

I cannot promise your safety, or your happiness, but I can promise to love you, as I do now, as I always have, no matter what you decide. My heart is yours alone. All you have to do is reach out and take it.

Yours,

Theseus

Reading the words on the page, feeling your own breath suck in and whoosh out of your lungs, hearing it, it's all so surreal.

Your heart flutters meekly, wounded at either prospect. But you want to choose yourself. Who has ever chosen you? You need to be on your own side this time.

You glance at the clock and curse. You shouldn't have spent so much time waiting in the Atrium, floating about the Ministry.

"I can't go, I won't go," you decide. "It's too late anyway."

Who knew if you'd even be able to have a real relationship with him? Even if you believed his love for you, and that he was over Leta, and somehow overcame the horrors and traumas of your life that you hadn't begun to confront... who knew if it would work? That would be its own, new, excruciating pain, having loved and it still not being enough...

"I'm staying," you think to yourself. "I am. He doesn't know what he's asking of me, he doesn't really know me at all. I'm staying. I'm taking the position."

At first you thought the words to convince yourself, reaffirm and reinforce. But they don't sound as improbable as you thought. This happiness doesn't sound too good to be true, it sounds as if it could belong to you after all.

You sigh, trembling, and begin to go through the empty drawers of Theseus's old desk, imagining your life, or trying to.

You reach for the bottommost drawer, pulling it open.

The sight of the worn little clothbound book snags your vision like a thorn. You pull it out in a trancelike state and read the title: Garden Parting by P. M. Kipling. The memory rises without you even having to reach for it, like a face in water.

-----

One Year Ago

It was only your fourth week at the office. This bloody idiot named Henry Ludgate somehow came to the insane conclusion that if he talked to you enough, or talked at you, more fittingly, you would like him back. So every one of your lunch breaks, without fail, he'd come searching for you in the Atrium to talk your ear off about nothing at all.

At the present moment, he was trying to strike up a conversation about women's shoewear, a hard topic for even far better conversationalists.

"I actually do like flat shoes, or 'flats,' are they? But I only like the ones with a bit of heel, all the other types of flats are terribly unattractive I think."

You were dimly aware of your boss, Theseus Scamander, watching this all unfold with a lackadaisical amusement. He was leaning against a newsstand of The Daily Prophet pretending to read it, but really you knew his sly smile at the front page was for you.

"So, not flats?"

"Sorry?" Henry always jumped at the excuse of poor hearing to lean uncomfortably close to you.

You rolled your eyes, not caring if Henry saw or not.

"If the flats you say you like have heels, doesn't that make them not 'flat shoes'?" You asked curtly.

Henry stared at you dumbly. "Oh, right. So it's 'heels' I like then."

You flicked your gaze up to his, irritably.

"So how many pairs do you own, then?"

You thought you saw a rustle of paper in the corner of your vision--undoubtedly Theseus was choking back some fit of laughter.

Henry attempted to clear his throat but only seemed to choke, rubbing a half-fist on his chest touchily.

"What?! Pardon me, not for myself!" He was veritably red in the face, not pink or any subtle, healthy flush, but bright red. "I-I meant I like heels on women, on you."

You could barely tamp down your frustration. This was supposed to be a restful lunch break, a good hour of no-work, and yet you seemed to enjoy your actual work more than this (for many reasons, the first reason beginning with the letter T and the last reason being the way the first reason smiled at you whenever you said something bright, or funny, or kind. He had a smile like light cracking open the sky at dawn, it so completely transformed the rest of his face, always reaching his eyes).

"Henry," you sighed, indulgently, maybe a bit patronizingly. "As much as I am grateful for your... fashion tips, and your riveting conversation, I really do prefer to read on my lunch breaks. I'll have to excuse myself."

You turned on your heel before he could protest, finding another secluded corner of the Atrium by the fountain. You pulled out the book, Garden Parting, as more of a prop, or a shield, or a comfort object, like a teddy bear. You had no intention of reading it right now. Not when...

Just as you suspected. You saw the shadow come over your shoulder, the shape of his figure, his hands in his pockets. Even that, his outline or shadow, stirred up some feeling you couldn't name in your chest, in the cavity there, next to your heart.

"Mr. Scamander," you sighed. "I really don't understand what sort of sadistic pleasure you gain from watching Ludgate torture me with mind-numbingly boring conversation."

You said this without turning, already smiling. Theseus sat down beside you, gingerly, beaming.

"It's entertaining," he said. The deep rumble of his voice was pleasant. "The way you eviscerate him. It's my favorite part."

There was something so attractive about the tilt of his eyes, hooded, and the curl of his hair, a strand falling loose over his forehead. He brought his bottom lip under his teeth, bit down and squinted at you.

"Do you really prefer to read on your breaks, Y/N?"

You scoffed, mock-offended.

"Yes! Do you really read The Daily Prophet on yours?"

"No, not at all," he admitted, shamelessly and with a boyish smile. "What are you reading?"

You suddenly felt self-conscious. You almost didn't want to show him. Your book was soft and worn, the cloth corners frayed, the text on the front half chipped off.

Against your instinct and your nature, you found yourself reluctantly handing him the book. Your mortification increased tenfold when he didn't take it from your extended hand, he only stared at it unreadably.

"What-" you began.

"Wait," Theseus turned to his suitcase, set it down on the tiled floor beside the fountain and clicked open the latches. "Garden Parting by P.M. Kipling, right?"

He was speaking so excitedly, shuffling around in his suitcase.

'No way,' you thought, and then, because you couldn't help it:

"Oh, you're kidding," you gasped. "No, Theseus! You're kidding. I swore I was the only person in London with a copy."

Theseus pulled it out at last, victorious. A sleek hardcover, newer than yours, but creased from frequent reading.

"Oh, Theseus!" You brought your hands up to your mouth. You were always worried your emotions, especially excitement, would make it harder to be taken seriously at work. You endeavored to dampen and mute them, but you could not hide your girlish elation at this inexplicable commonality between the two of you.

He smiled at your reaction, a slow, warm smile.

"Who knew you had a secret affinity for muggle literature?" You tried to make your tone teasing and demeaning but couldn't commit to it, you were too surprised by the force of your own joy.

"My roommate at Hogwarts was muggleborn. He gave it to me."

"You carry it with you too?" You asked, still in disbelief.

"Everywhere!" It was a breathy admission, half a laugh, earnest. "I like to reread certain parts. It doesn't get old." He was smiling so big it was almost heart-wrenching, you did not think he had ever looked at you like that, eyes blazing with naked enthusiasm. Looking at you like you were holding some key, to what you didn't know.

"No one seems to know about it," he continued with a shrug. "I've been waiting for someone to talk with about this book since I was sixteen."

"Oh," you kept saying. You wondered if he thought you sounded stupid for it, or if he thought it was endearing. "There's this one part I think about almost every day. In the purple glass house, with the broken arm used to-"

"-To praise God and 'be done with it'?" He finished for you.

Then miraculously, he flipped his copy open, paper fluttering, to a sole, underlined paragraph. The very same.

"It's like we're speaking the same language," He whispered with an incredulous laugh, but his eyes were reverent.

You flashed him a smile, one that was glowing and real. You were holding his copy of the book between you now, like children with a shared toy, or like lovers reading a roadmap.

"What language? English?" You asked sarcastically, making a funny face.

But you had known what Theseus meant. What wavelength of sense that you two, alone, could access. How the world spoke to you both in the same ways, through the same channels of meaning.

Garden Parting was the only object you had from your deceased parents, the only thing that survived your childhood. It was a children's chapter book that your father used to read to you, quite a grim piece of magical realism about a lot of things, but mostly about a girl condemned to go back to her burning house and stay there, inside, until the flames went out. There's no question that it will be swallowed whole, that she will burn to death in the place she was born.

When Theseus spoke again his eyes were shining, perceptively.

"Is that you then?" His voice was subdued, made gentle, intentionally. His eyes looked strangely dark inside the black stone interior of the Ministry, blue like river slate, dim like rain. "The main character, that's you?"

It was the most you'd ever revealed. It was a single, quiet word.

"Yes," you said.

Theseus placed a hand on your forearm. You didn't dare move, react, for fear he would stop touching you. A bird on your windowsill.

"I'll be the great owl then," he said. "The one that takes her away at the end.... Or Reggie, the one that's her friend. Whatever you want."

You laughed, bleakly. You felt pressured to speak, nonsense, anything to cover up how much his words meant to you.

"Really," you said. "It's my favorite book, but sometimes I can hardly get through it, there's so much pain in her life. I get so anxious..."

"Here," Theseus plucked a ribbon from his suitcase and flipped open your copy of the book. He placed the ribbon strategically towards the back, surgically almost, his long fingers lining it up with the interior spine, right in the scene where the owl takes the girl away and there's happiness set aside for her in life, after all.

"I'll mark it with this," he said. Neither of you were looking at each other anymore, the moment was too intimate to bear. But you were both thinking of each other, talking to each other. "So you can remember how it ends."

-----

The memory of that day by the fountain is so unexpected that it is the first time you're remembering it at all.

'Maybe he does know me after all, does see me.'

The thought is a shattering one.

'Oh, god.'

You check the time. It's 6:50pm. You pull on your coat and snatch your purse off the desk. If you leave now, right now, you can intercept him.

Theseus has to know you're coming. Even if you don't make it onto the train, he has to see your face on the platform, through the window, even. He has to know that you're choosing him.

You apparate as far as you're able and begin to run towards the station the rest of the way.

You're coming for him, each pounding step you're coming, heart soaring, this is that freeing love that grows and grows and stretches out into space like air. And you're going to tell him everything, every wish and every nightmare, you're going to--

A hand shoots out and pulls you backward by the neck. The grip is so hard that you taste blood, everywhere, in your mouth.

You yelp but the sound is lost as you are torn through the air, choking through space. Being forcibly apparated always feels like choking, like being pushed down a flight of stairs repeatedly. You can't catch your breath or your footing, you don't know where you're being taken.

Dark material whooshes and cuts around you. You hardly feel a thing.

Could someone at the Ministry have seen the letters left on your desk? Read them? Were you and Theseus positively identified at the gala in Berlin, or maybe outside the mausoleum? Before you've even arrived at your captor's destination, your mind whirls helplessly, to Grindelwald, to the situation at hand, and then, finally, to Theseus, who is waiting at Platform 9 3/4 for a girl who will never arrive, for a girl he will assume is telling him "no."

It happened so fast you didn't even have the time to turn around, to touch your wand. You were apparated away, stolen into thin air, before you could even set foot inside the station.

---

authors note: yeah i did watch the last letter from you lover on netflix and YEAH it did inspire this fic and rewire my brain at the same time. SORRY this fic ended on a cliffhanger and was so long!! we just had a LOT of ground to cover, but the subsequent parts should be back to the normal length!!

i like writing a mix of smut and romance plot but let me know if you prefer one to the other (also garden parting isn't a real book if that wasn't obvious) OK BYYEEE love you thanks so much for all the replies and feedback :))

also i have yet to read through this for typos so maybe! come back in a day or so for the final version?

taglist: @karashaw99 @gracieroxzy @mystic-mara

Kaz Brekker and Mutual Ma$terba$tion.

Be My Hands: Kaz Brekker x Reader *#~

18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI!

If you’re tagged it’s simply because I copied the tag list for Kaz.

Obviously I can’t control your actions but if you’re not 18+ do not interact with this post or Tumblr can get me in trouble!

(If you’d like to not be tagged in future smutty/spicy Kaz fics, please let me know!)

Description: 3.6k wc, smut/spicy fic with Kaz. Cannon Kaz, still has a touch aversion but finds himself and his girlfriend needing release so they compromise by verbally guiding the other while they be each other’s hands. (Kaz style aftercare featured)

Warnings: sexual content, mentions of touch aversions (anxiety & related notes), 18+ Only, cursing

Minors DNI, 18+ Only below the break; sexual content present

Kaz crumpled yet another piece of paper and tossed it to the side, still unable to collect his thoughts.

The heist went sideways hours ago and he hadn’t been able to figure out why or how he should’ve been able to prevent it.

It had never taken him this long before, he was usually done within a few minutes and spent the rest of the night sulking.

Meaning it really shouldn’t take him long tonight since it was only a minor deviation and not much of a set back.

He should’ve been able to figure this out hours ago.

However, y/n had never not been in his office after a night like this.

Kaz sensed things were tense between them lately but since he didn’t know why he elected to let it blow over.

As he sat alone in his messy office tonight, he regretted that decision.

Clearly that was another plan he made that failed.

Begrudgingly he rose from his desk, bracing himself on his cane as he walked to the door.

If she wasn’t coming to him, he’d go to her.

Kaz lingered outside her door as his mind raced to find the best way to greet her.

She was already mad, but he didn’t know why and therefore which side of him would be most helpful here.

If he let Kaz Rietveld greet her and she’d been mad about one of his triggers or weaknesses that would make it worse.

Not that y/n ever got upset let alone mad over that, but Kaz anxiously awaited the day he felt was inevitable.

If he let Dirtyhands Brekker greet her and she was mad he’d been too distant or mundane it would surely piss her off more.

He sighed, annoyed at himself for even allowing himself to get so attached to her that he cared about these things.

Kaz tapped his cane against her door twice and awaited a response.

He heard some shuffling around before y/n opened the door for him.

Her hair was a bit disheveled from seemingly running her hands through it, but it was clear she’d tried to fix it before opening the door.

“Love,” he greeted briefly, the versions of himself compromising.

She smiled nervously at him which made him sigh.

“May I?” He asked, tipping the crow’s head end of his cane in the direction of her bedroom chambers.

A room in which she rarely ever was, having usually been sleeping in his room while he worked.

Kaz watched her throat tighten as she swallowed before nodding.

He took inventory of her room, the way he would any room he’d stepped into where he felt unsure of his surroundings.

He’d been in here before but tonight he was unsure where he stood with her and hoped the room would provide him some clues.

Y/n’s bedding was wrinkled and the poorly made bed was evidence she’d futilely tried tucking the sheets back into place before letting him in.

Kaz tightened his grip on the crow’s head, despising himself for whatever he did that prompted her to chose to sleep here instead.

Sure it was her room, but he couldn’t recall the last time she’d actually slept in it.

“Kaz…” she mumbled, standing a solid distance away, “you look like you have something on your mind”.

Kaz pressed his lips into a tight line as he turned to face her, but was unable to look into her eyes and ask his question, “are you mad at me?”.

Her silence caused him to turn his gaze upwards from the floor and to her face.

He watched the shocked look on her face turn to confusion before she shook her head, “No Kaz. I’m not mad at you”.

“Y/n, do not lie to me” he grumbled.

“I’m not” she sighed.

He stared at her and took a step closer to her, noticing how her body tensed when he did, “you’ve been distancing yourself from me. Yet, you claim you are not mad?”

Y/n quickly looked to the far wall as if one of her pinned up photos was suddenly more interesting than this conversation.

Yet, in a whispered voice she still spoke, “I’m not mad, Kaz”.

Kaz squinted, taking a step back to create more distance for her, “are you afraid of me then?”

She snapped her head towards him, a concoction of confusion, shock, anger, and guilt storming her face, “of course not!”

“Then tell me” he ordered, closing his eyes for half a second to compose himself, “if you’re not suddenly scared of me, tell me why you are distancing from me if you’re not mad”.

“I…I’m… not mad… I umm.. I’m..” she mumbled, biting her lip.

Kaz gave her a concerned look and took a cautious step towards her again, continuing when she didn’t look away.

“You’re not mad, but you are… what?” He asked calmly, a foot from her now.

“Frustrated” she whispered.

“What?” He repeated, not sure he heard her correctly.

“Frustrated!” She blurts loudly, looking away and pulling in her hair, “I’m frustrated, Kaz”.

“Frustrated is synonymous to mad, love” Kaz sighed harshly.

“Not that way” she said, shifting her gaze around rapidly.

“I don’t und-“ he stopped, realization hitting him.

He’d read the signs wrong.

Her hair wasn’t a mess due to running her hands through it out of anger.

His eyes shifted to her bed.

The bedsheets weren’t wrinkled and a mess because she’d been sleeping in them.

“Were you just touching yourself?” Kaz asked, the tension in the room thickening.

He noticed she refused to look at him, so he gently tapped her toe with the bottom of his cane.

She still didn’t look at him but nodded minimally.

Kaz felt his face heat up and an uncomfortable feeling form in his body at her confession.

Well, it wasn’t the feeling that was uncomfortable, it was the knowledge he couldn’t act on it.

The knowledge that he’d found himself needing sexual relief on numerous occasions with relation to her and not being able to act on it due to his touch aversion.

He hated that he put her in that same position and also that he couldn’t offer either of them the release they both needed and desired.

The biggest irritation he had with his aversion was that his body still held the capacity for desire and sexual attraction but he couldn’t act on it.

He hated that he wanted more than anything to be able to take her here and now but the thought also made him nauseous.

“Show me” Kaz said faintly, his brain body desperate for a compromise.

“What?” She squeaked, her eyes finally landing on his dark and fully dilated pupils.

“Show me what you like” he repeated, taking a slow step towards her bed.

“Kaz, what?” She asked breathlessly as her eyes widened.

He looked at the ground in guilt, “I cannot give you what you want”.

Y/n began to interrupt but he held his gloved hand up to signal her to stop.

“But, I’d like to see what it is you want” He said, his voice shaking.

He wasn’t sure he could handle this.

Sure she’d be touching herself, not him touching her.

But, he felt he might combust watching her get herself off by doing things to herself he could only dream of doing to her one day.

“Kaz. We don’t have to do this” She offered kindly, sensing his nervousness.

“I want to. I want to watch. Touch yourself for me. Be my hands” Kaz declared, his pants already feeling tighter as he admitted this desire.

Y/n took a shaky breath but nodded and made her way to the bed, unceremoniously crawling onto it.

She wasn’t opposed to it, but she knew intimacy was intense for Kaz and she didn’t want to push.

Y/n bit her lip as Kaz moved to stand beside her bed, as close as he’d allow himself to be.

“Kaz, I know this is really vulnerable for you, so we can take this as slow as you need and stop whenever. You’re in control here, okay?” She promised, staring into his eyes.

Kaz’s eyes softened for a moment -as he offered her a small smile and nodded-, before they shifted back to their dark state with a recently displayed lust tinting them.

He’d seen her naked before, having changed in front of him countless times at this stage in their relationship, but this was different; for both of them.

She felt her heart quicken, her hands trembling with nerves as she shyly started to lower her pants once again.

“Love, don’t be nervous, if you need, I’ll guide you through it. Just be my hands” Kaz heard himself state, surprising them both.

Y/n took a deep breath of air and nodded rapidly.

Kaz smirked, his eyes closing lustfully as he let them both catch their breath before beginning.

When he opened them, his pupils dilated again seeing she’d stripped out of her pants and panties, her lower half now fully exposed to him.

“Fuck” he breathed out, letting a rare curse slip.

She blushed but kept her eyes on his with a small smile on her lips.

“Shirt” he said, clarifying when his request was met with confusion, “your top too”.

Y/n smirked at him as she slowly removed her shirt to display her bare breasts before him, practically making him hard right away.

He swallowed thickly, adjusting his stance awkwardly, “you are perfect”.

Kaz learned long ago she loved him complimenting her and while he’d let that vulnerable side of him out more often since that discovery, this was new.

He’d reassured her how beautiful she was the first time he’d seen her naked body, needing to help her patch up a cut on her rib and thigh after a heist.

But this, this time, she was laying here before him, not because she was hurt or getting ready for bed.

Instead, she was all but presenting herself to him; a vulnerable and important moment for them both.

Kaz stared into her eyes, making sure she was comfortable with what they were about to do.

When he felt confident she was, he shut his eyes and softly said, “show me what you were doing”.

She nodded, looking down at her waist, her hand moving towards her center.

Y/n gazed off into space as she slowly ran her pointer finger down her pubic mound towards her lips.

Kaz eyes fixed on her finger, wanting so badly for it to be his own touching her that way.

He took a shaky breath at the thought of his son on her’s making her immediately stop and stare at him with concern.

He shook his head to calm her worries, “Don’t stop. Just, talk to me during it”.

She nodded, remembering how he’d cling to the sound of her voice when anxious.

“So,” she said with a breathy shyness, “ when I find myself needing a release, I start with this”.

Kaz focused on her voice and explanation while his eyes studied her demonstration and instructions with such intensity it was as if her pleasure were a heist he must successfully complete.

After a few minutes Kaz had become more comfortable and realized the bulge in his pants was already a step ahead of him.

He blindly reached for her desk chair, knowing he should sit.

But he couldn’t find it without looking away from her, and he wasn’t able to do that.

Kaz stared as her thighs clenched together, firmly trapping her hand between them.

"Spread your legs. I want to see how turned on I make you” he said, looking from her seized legs to her dazed eyes.

Her lips parted slightly as she complied, her hand now being the only thing blocking his view of her full anatomy.

“More” he said, his deep voice betraying his pleading, as did his gloved hand faintly placed on her closest knee.

“I love hearing you moan” Kaz blurted, pressing his hand firmly against his throbbing shaft through his pants.

She looks at him through hooded eyes, the fingers on her left hand still inserted into herself.

“Curl your finger” Kaz advised, an idea forming in his mind.

Y/n smirked lazily at his newly formed scheming face as she followed his suggestion.

“No, no, your ring finger” he corrected, his piercing eyes that were frozen on her swollen and flushed bare skin around her vulva, unsatisfied with the choice she made.

“Oh saints!” She cried out, her head slamming back into her bed aggressively.

Kaz felt his dick twitch as he proudly relished in her loud moans and watched her hips lift off the bedsheets.

“Mmm, that’s it, good girl” Kaz said, his voice dark.

Y/N’s eyes flitted closed as she twirled her hooked finger around inside of her walls, trying to not be so loud as she didn’t want to risk the others hearing.

“Mmm, come on darling” he whined, “let me hear you.” 

She stirred slightly before pushing her fingers in deeper, moaning pleasurably as her vaginal opening stretched even more.

“That’s it” he grinned, his sight clouding a bit as he unconsciously began stroking his length through his dress pants, “I want to hear you say my name”.

Y/n needed a moment, so she slowly pulled her now soaking wet fingers from her vagina and rested her hand on her stomach, smirking at him.

“You what?” She teased, pretending she couldn’t hear his request.

His vision cleared as he lightly glared at her, “you heard me”.

She hummed, dancing her fingers tauntingly over her exposed skin from her neck down to her hips, “I don’t know that I did… Kaz”.

Kaz’s head snapped to the side quickly, his hand reaching out and pulling the desk chair to him.

He sat down just as his knees threatened to buckle from the tension between his legs and the sight of y/n sprawled teasingly before him.

Kaz knew he wasn’t going to win this, especially in his current state, so he repeated himself, “I need to hear you say my name”.

She smirked at him, “Kaz”.

He threw his head back in frustration with so much force he was surprised the chair didn’t break under him, “you know what I mean”.

Y/n loved seeing him like this, over her.

So she decided to drag it out a bit more, smiling innocently as she asked, “no, can you elaborate what it is you need me to do, Kaz?”.

Kaz clenched his jaw, returning his head to its normal position and watching the devilish glimmer in her eyes, “don’t push it, you’re the one who needed this. I can leave any moment”.

Y/n saw through his bluff, tilting her head sideways as she pushed her self up until her arms were supporting her back and half raised position.

“Kaz, honey, you can pretend all you want” she winks, bringing her still wet fingers up to her face and tracing the outline of her lips, “but I can see the mess you're making of yourself”.

He froze in confusion, following her gaze as she stared at his lap.

Kaz felt his cheeks double in temperature as he saw he’d practically ruined his dress pants.

The material now wet and clinging to him.

He closed his eyes and sighed.

“It’s okay Kaz, but I don’t think you’re quite done” she whispered sweetly, “why don’t I help you?”

Kaz stared up at her, his eyes soft but jaw tense, “I-… I can’t… yet.. I-“.

She shook her head, “I’m not going to touch you honey, I promise”.

He nodded appreciatively.

“You wanted me to moan your name?” She asked delicately.

He forced a weak glare making her laugh softly, “I can do that. But first, remove your pants”.

Kaz hesitated for a moment before standing enough to lower them to the floor.

“Now your underwear, the poor things are very clearly in both of our ways” she added, Kaz sighing tranquilly as he pushed the hem of his underwear towards the ground and let his penis fly upwards when it was free.

“Now, cup one hand around yourself, from underneath” y/n said, her gaze never leaving his erection.

Kaz obeyed, shivering as his cold leather glove wrapped around his length.

Y/n moaned lightly, Kaz’s eyes jumping to watch as her fingers walked down her bare body to her clit.

“With the other, rub the tip” she whispered seductively.

Kaz didn’t hesitate to do so and mirrored her moans with his own as he did.

“Look at me” Kaz rasped as her gaze has shifted to her waist.

“Oh, fu-“ y/n sighed, the knot in her stomach growing.

Kaz clenched his jaw more tightly as he continued masterbating as she had requested, but secretly trying not to climax yet.

He was fairly certain the leather in his gloves was going to cause his shaft to be raw by the end of the night but he couldn’t care less.

“Cum for me” he ordered sharply, not sure how much longer he could resist his release.

Y/n sensed his predicament and puckered her lips to blow him a kiss, “just let go Kaz”.

Kaz shook his head, but as she resumed circling her clit he found his resistance weaning.

“More pressure” he advised her, having made mental note of what seemed to work best for her earlier in the night.

“Ka-Kaz,” she moaned, her eye lids fluttering as she pushed her thumb harder against her clitoris.

At that, Kaz’s self preservation disintegrated in an instant.

“Oh” he moaned, his voice breathy, “fuck”.

He threw his head back, his neck bending as the back of his head rested between his shoulder blades.

“Don’t stop doing what I taught you. You’re being my hands, remember? Keep moving” She ordered, a smirk painting her tone.

“Y-y/n” Kaz shakingly mumbled, his eyes glazed over, “fuck, you’re… fuck”.

Kaz was certain it was the least intelligible thing he’d ever spoken but the bliss he felt kept him from caring.

He wiped the white cream from himself and the bedspread next to her, too relaxed to be embarrassed over the mess he made and how vulnerable he was.

“Shit, Kaz” she groaned, her lips curling at the ends as she watched him.

“Cum for me” he repeated his earlier request.

Y/n chuckled softly, tiredly bringing her hand back down to her wet lips.

“Kaz” she moaned softly, her eyes glimmering as she held eye contact with him.

Kaz smiled faintly, lifting his cane.

He delicately tapped the side of the crow’s beak to y/n’s swollen clitoris twice before lowering his cane back to the floor.

She shivered at the cold sensation before her eyes darkened as she looked back over at him.

He nodded with a smirk on his lips, “keep your eyes open and on me”.

Y/n silently obeyed, her fingers picking up their pace.

Kaz’s smirk grew as he watched her desire increase.

He intentionally ran a hand through his hair, having been clued in that it was a turn on for her.

She grinned and shook her head weakly, letting him know she knew what he was doing.

Triggering another turn on, Kaz held eye contact with her as he smirked more before licking his lip, “so unfathomably irresistible”.

Kaz lips shifted into a cocky grin as she loudly whimpered his name, her back arching towards the ceiling and legs trembling.

“That’s it darling, just keep being my hands” he encouraged, watching as she softly stroked herself as she rode out her orgasm.

“While I must point out that we could have started this much earlier had you not hid, I do prefer the location” Kaz stated, handing her a towel from her dresser.

“Oh?” She asked, her voice still faint from her climax.

“It means I don’t need to clean my sheets” he smirked teasingly.

She scoffed, feigning offense.

“Hmm, well, I suppose we’ll see if the door will be unlocked next time or not” she teased, delicately cleaning herself up.

Kaz squinted at her as he pulled his trousers back up.

“Fine, I can begin washing my sheets” he complied.

“You haven’t been washing them?!” She gasped, wanting to smack his shoulder.

Kaz chuckled, a laugh he’d only allow the person currently before him to ever hear, “Of course I’ve cleaned them; you sweat in your sleep”.

Y/n’s jaw dropped as she stared at him in shock, somehow mortified over the idea of her sleep sweating in his bed, despite what just happened in here between them.

Kaz laughed loudly, his dimples showing as he shook his head, “darling, it was a joke. You’re perfect”.

Y/n placed the towel on the other side of her, turning to face Kaz as she tugged on her blanket.

He smiled tenderly at her - another behavior only she’d witness- before standing to help pull her blanket over her body the way she wanted.

His gloved hands were sure to never touch her skin during the act.

But, as he set the fabric over her bare chest, he sucked in a deep breath before he slid his gloved fingers under her arm to tuck in the blanket.

He’d touched her skin more directly than that by now, but after the intensity of the moment immediately prior, he didn’t want to risk ruining the intimate moment they shared by taking a chance.

She smiled up at him, her body relaxed and eyes heavy.

Kaz nodded as he sat back down in his chair.

“Kaz” She whispered, waiting until he nodded again for her to continue.

“Do I swear in my sleep?” She asked, making him laugh again.

He rolled his eyes, “I honestly would not know. It’s my obsessive need to stick to a routine that prompts me to wash our sheets, not you “.

Her shoulders lowered as she nodded happily, “okay. So your room next time?”.

Kaz smirked, resting his gloved palm a few centimeters from her arm, “as long as you’ll continue to be my hands for now, we can do whichever room”.

“If you’ll be my hands taking care of you, I’ll be yours” y/n promised, grinning tiredly at him.

Kaz nodded in agreement, “the deal is the deal. Now, rest”.

Y/n grinned at him once more before letting her eyes close, peacefully falling asleep. 

Kaz Brekker Navigation/Masterlist

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@directioner5life @ell0ra-br3kk3r @b3kk3r-by-br3kk3r ( @chewiethecatus for this one only as it was for your request)

I feel like if Dean was allowed to form his own music taste independently from John winchester he'd be really into Brazilian funk

Frank Castle tied up for @daredevilexchange

day 7: monkey d. luffy [eating out]

࿓ synopsis • why not using his devil fruit ability while eating you out?

―❦ nsfw, opla!luffy, f!reader, pet names, swearing, licking, biting, kissing, fingering, oral > f receiving, inappropriate usage of abilities/power, strength using, hair pulling, praising, ‘is all! • 0.9k • & concluding the first week of kinktober 2023 with our cute captain luffy! the week was soo fun & hope you liked it too. so, once again, enjoy & see you soon in the next week! [kinktober m.]

“mmhh – y/n – shiiii – pussy’s so goo – mmhh,” luffy says, his full attention on your pussy that his tongue is inside – licking it, kissing it, and eating it as if it’s the most delicious meal he has ever had in his entire life, and you swear it really is because he’s eating you so passionately that you’re losing your mind thanks to it.

“delicious,” he adds as if he hears your mind – maybe he does through the way you’re moaning his name over and over again, tongue curling only to leave the beautiful voice you have to announce he’s making you go crazy.

leaving your wet clit, since you have cum already, for a moment, putting his head on your naked thigh, pulling the skirt higher, exposing you completely. you look into his eyes, chest raising up and down rapidly, making your visible breasts through the dress take luffy’s attention before saying as he looks up at your face with wide sparkling eyes, “the most delicious pussy – ohh – how I want to reach until my tongue’s tip reach at the end of it!” he chuckles, fingers playing with folds, then, picking the wetness of your cum with his long fingers only to put it into his opening mouth – showing off you how he licks his fingers from tip to end, “mmmhhh –“ closing eyes for a certain time.

opening his eyes again, he chuckles at the sight in front of him – his pretty girl becomes breathless, nipples get hardened, the lip is bit, heat rushing to the face; the meaning of beauty for him.

then, an idea hits his mind like a ring while he kisses your inner thighs, fingers entering in and out, taking out the last bit of your cum. “yes! of course,” he speaks to himself more than you, but he turns to you when you catch him taking the tip of his tongue with his fingers, face has the confusion that makes luffy laugh, “stay still princess, the captain has a great idea!”

“about wha – oohhh – lu – luffy!” you moan his name louder when he goes back to what he was doing a moment ago, differently now, he’s more daring, more hungry, and looks like the idea that is in his mind drives him crazy because he holds your thighs, opening your legs wider, looking up to your face and winking at you when he realizes how you’re trying to understand what he’s doing – why he’s like that! and then, it hits you –

“ooohhh my – luff –!” you even can’t finish your sentence when his tongue gets into your pussy, slowly yet effectively getting longer inside your fucking pussy! “are you out of – agghhh – your – shiii – luffy!”

he chuckles – intense sensation coming out of your pussy to your entire body rising up with the radiations his chuckle sents; a hand finds his hair, pulling them, pushing his head closer to you – an instinct that screams as the opposite version of what you’re saying, “’is too much – luffy, ‘is too much!”

without realizing any of it, you begin to cry as his hot tongue twists inside you, a feeling you have never tasted before sending both of you into oblivion – you find yourselves wanting more and more each passing time, and you don’t care that your legs cage his head between your thighs by closing around his shoulders, or how luffy’s grip on your swifts from your thighs to under your ass, picking you up, pulling you to his tongue further by the ass while using his pure strength.

 you no longer have the ability to think straight – only breathing and moaning his name, it goes out of your wide open tongue as a melody – as a pray into luffy’s ears, making him moan in sync with you, doubling the feeling of being fucked by his tongue up until you begin to lose your consciousness.

his tongue hit the end of your walls, the place even you never reached on your own, and he’s not done yet.

the realization becomes knowledge when he adds his fingers along with his tongue, eyes opening and looking into yours, your dried tears refresh with new ones the moment his fingers begin to grow longer in length – he smirks, taking off his fingers back, and shoving them into you harshly – you throw your head back, “AAGGHHH – fuuuck! luffy, luffy, luffy –“

eyes go white as they roll back, hands grip his hair harder, legs shake within the rest of your body, and then you cum into his tongue – dripping into it and to the ground from there.

he sucks the flesh, drinking all the juice your body has made with such delight, you watch it with blurred vision even though you’re one step away from passing out because of how his tongue made you so weak.

“yes, princess?” he mocks, licking his lips, eyes sparkling, a smirk on his cute yet attractive face full of the glow of your cum and juice – worth it, definitely worth it. “you will not blame me for eating my favorite taste, will you?”

you shake your head, eyes closing, a hand finds his shoulder, pulling himself to you, “you’re crazy luffy.”

picking your exhausted body up, walking to the bed he will fuck you into now after you get a bit of rest, he chuckles, “for your pretty pussy, babe? always.”

with the newfound kink of using his devil fruit’s ability on you while fucking you, luffy is sure fucks you so good in that bed too.

❦ tagging: @lilvampirina & @snowprincesa1 & @dookiemeshibear *cuties*

Peter Hayes x Reader || Oneshot

Title: The One and Only 

Notes: 

This is set after the Allegiant BOOK. So, SPOILER WARNING, Peter has used the memory serum. 

I love this boy. And his lack of fanfiction is a PROBLEM.

Plot: For whatever reason, you were in love with Peter, and he was with you. But… now he’s gone. And you have to try and forget. Which is hard to do when he’s still around. 

Finally, he wants to remember again. 

Warnings: There is SMUT. Its indicated where though, so you can skip it if you like ^^ But there is a bit of plot in the middle. Also, swearing. 

~~~

“Hey, Y/N!” Without my permission, my heart does a little jump, but it’s not for the person who said hey to me. Sighing, I take my hands from my laptop and straighten my back, turning to smile at Peter as he comes over to me and takes a seat on the bench right by me. I’m sitting sideways on it so my laptop can be set on it as well, so now I’m facing him without turning and trying to notice how differently he sits down, to how he used to. It’s like he completely started over, which he kind of did. His whole life, “Wiped away by chemistry,”. Including the way he walked, talked, and everyone who loved him. Well, person.

Me.

Which was a total dick move on his part, which was the last completely in-character thing that he did.

But, I can’t be mad at this boy in front of me, even if he looks miraculously similar to the dick in question. From his shiny hair to the tips of his greedy fingers. “Hi, Peter, what’s up?”

“Just finished another recall lesson. Still nothing,” He shrugs, uncaring. I already told him that this is what he wanted by taking the serum, to forget everything. So, he doesn’t really try in these lessons that he’s forced to attend, by government law. He believed me right away, weirdly. And has been acting so aloof about it since like somehow, he understands, which of course he can’t. Because he doesn’t know anything about himself or what he did to cause his old self to want to erase his memory! The whole thing, his whole response to this life changing event is aloof, and its infuriating. It’s the main thing that hasn’t changed at all about him, along with his appearance and his firm aversion to sprouts. He’s still really, really annoying.

“You know, I’m glad you’re respecting his wishes to not remember, but maybe you should try and remember some things. I mean, the techniques are working for some of the others, right? You said, uh… Katie, remembered something? Her choosing ceremony?” I watch, expression changing from thoughtful to deadpanned as he takes my can of coke and swigs from it like he spent 3 dollars on it. Once he’s done, I snatch it away from him and set him with a glare as I put it down on the other side of the bench, away from him. It causes a mischievous grin to pop onto his face and a laugh, and I try to forget the other times he’s made that face at me before he took the serum. Because that Peter’s dead, and I need to let him go like Four’s letting go of Tris. It’s not fair to this Peter.

In response to what I said, he just shrugs his shoulders again and look away to across the park- where Caleb is taking some photos. We drove here together, him and me. In fact, we’ve been doing a lot together. As two of the only ones from the original group who knows everything that happened, we have a connection. Peter’s next words rip my attention from Caleb though and makes me want to blurt out no, immediately. “Nah, I mean old me wanted this for a reason, right? I mean, I do kinda wanna know why he wanted this, but I figure he was some kind of depressed loser with self-esteem issues. That’s good enough for me, to keep going like this. Don’t wanna be that.”

Words have escaped me. I guess, I figured he thought something like that the whole time, but… hearing it out loud, in such a certain tone, hurts. My heart fights for me to tell him he’s wrong, at the very least, but my brain tells me to let him go on. Don’t interfere. He told you, before he took the serum, to let him go. Still be friends but let go.

He was being unfair, but that’s nothing new is it? The asshole.

I press my lips together after I get over the shock and horror and kiss my teeth. Deciding this has been enough ‘friendship’ for today, I quickly save my work and shut down my laptop, closing it. “Yeah, um, Peter. I gotta go. Caleb! Caleb, are you done? I’m having an Old Peter moment, so we have to go now.”  

It’s not exactly a code, but it is what he or I say when we’ve had enough of new Peter or we’re remembering too much and need to get away. We use it for Tris, too. Even though she really isn’t here anymore. Caleb immediately starts putting his camera in its bag and walking over, without a word.

Peter himself looks unruffled by it, having come to accept it easily that I won’t always be able to handle this. He isn’t exactly cold about it… in fact, he’s understanding. Nearly nice. It makes me feel even sicker. “Oh, by all means, go. I’m gonna stick around a while, see you guys later.”

Caleb nods to Peter, reaching us and turning to me. “See you, Peter. Y/N? Are you oka- Oh,”I pick up his wrist and start dragging him to the car. As soon as I’m in the front seat and I’m buckle din, I look back over to the bench Peter’s sitting at, and catch him watching me. Trying not to scowl at him, I turn back to the steering wheel and turn the ignition. “It’s never going to get easier, is it?” Caleb asks from the passenger seat after a while, looking up from his camera on which he was flicking through the pictures he took.

I shake my head, immediately, heart still clenched in annoyance and ageing heartache. I risk a glance at him, chewing the inside of my cheek. “Nope, don’t think so.”

With that, there isn’t else to say, so we just hold hands. Tightly.

~~~

At dinner later in the community dining hall, I sit with Four and listen to him talk about work for a while. It’s a little awkward, and a lot strange seeing as we don’t talk at all, most days. Not since Tris died, but we’ve never acknowledged that and it’s been months. We were never close in the first place, but once you’ve fought a revolution with someone, you become attached. He’s a staple in my life just as much as I am his, and that’s why our relationship is so strange.

Nodding in agreement to something he said about how ridiculous milk prices are at the moment and how frustrating that is as I skewer a piece of broccoli and place it in my mouth. I don’t foresee Four’s and my relationship ever changing, seeing as we’re so different and have very little common and I don’t particular want to be best friends with him -acquaintances with a non-personal past is nice. Comfortable, without any expectations but still the understanding that we’re here for each other. I like it, - so there isn’t much in thinking about how strange it feels, I just thought I would mention it once to myself. “Also, the toilet paper, you seen that??”

He groans, in response, causing a bubbling laugh to travel up my throat from my chest. “It’s killing me.”

“Killing you! I have a lower paying job then you, I’m gonna have to start using the cardboard rolls soon!” He shakes his head, the tiniest grin on his lips as he looks back down at his food. I feel triumphant. “It won’t be good!!”

“Oh, jeez… “

“Hey, we’re gonna have to rig Secret Santa so you can buy me some, okay?” I point my fork at him conspiratorially. “I’ll get you milk.” He chuckles this time, making me smile.  

For the rest of dinner, we continue like that. Talking about our shared financial issues and even switching over to Caleb at one point and how he’s sitting so pretty on his high paying job and his stockpiled toilet paper. God damn Brainiac’s…

It’s a good distraction from Peter, a few tables away.

~~~

When I finally get home, after hanging with some other friends after dinner just outside the community centre, goofing around I nearly suffer cardiac arrest as soon as I walk through the door.

Peter is not usually a menacing presence. But when he’s sitting in my dark apartment in the middle of the night and I had no idea he would be there, that fact changes! I don’t let myself scream, though. I hold my breath until the urge disappears.

After a moment, I let out the breath deeply and turn fully to him, dropping my scarf and keys on the hallway table before moving further into my home, past him. “Peter… “I growl, annoyed at him instantly. I don’t catch the mischievous smirk he sends my back, but I do feel it. “What the bleeding hell?!”

“Sorry if I scared you.”

“Oh, you are not.”

“True.” His cheeky tone puts my senses on high alert. Both because a cheeky Peter has always and will always be something to worry about, and because it used to turn me on. Still kinda doe, but that’s not something I’m about to admit to this version of him. We haven’t established that kind of relationship, nor will we ever. Sighing as my heartbeat slows down to its normal speed, I check the battery level on my pheon before putting it on charge. Then, finally, I sit down at the kitchen table across from Peter and settle into figuring out why the hell he’s here. And… also… how he got in??? The door was locked??? “Key was under the mat, Y/N. You should probably find a more secure hiding spot. Or at least more creative, jeez.”

“… okay… “I roll my eyes. He has a point. “So, Peter, uh… why are you here?”

“Well, I… “I watch while he suddenly droops in confidence and draws something on the table with his finger. These moments are really weird for me. Peter was always so confident before, even when he shouldn’t have been. Its cute, but so, so weird. He draws the thing, whatever it is, then looks around the room, making me remember that he’s never been in here before. An attempt made by me to keep him at a distance, which I guess now has been turned to shit. His shy moment ends, and one corner of his mouth perks up in a half smirk. “I like your place, could get used to it here. I wonder… why haven’t you ever brought me here before?”

“To keep you at a distance.” I say, bluntly. Theirs a slight shift behind his eyes at it, making his mouth turn down a bit in a tiny scowl and his green eyes look cold.

“Has Four been here?”

“Uh… yeah.” I don’t know why I should lie, or why he would look so serious about it. Before the serum, this was his murderous face, but I’m assuming it must be something different now. New Peter doesn’t have an evil bone in his body. “He has, but not for long. He just came to help me move in, hasn’t been back since though… why? Uh, you know what, I don’t care. Why are you here?”

His serious face intensifies. “I saw you with him tonight, and it brought back some feelings. So, I have a question.”

Making a confused, and slightly frustrated face, I shrug. “What kinda feelings?”

“Jealously.” Oh, he’s playing blunt too.

That does make me think, though. Whether this is unwanted memories coming back, or just a glimmer, a shadow of the old Peter coming back for a second. Because, yes, this is exactly something that he would feel before the serum. Any time I was with another guy, especially Four due to his particular dislike of the tattooed, ex Dauntless, he would get so jealous. Usually, it ended with that guy receiving some kind of punishment or dirty look, and me getting Peter attached to me for the rest of the day. Now, though, I should just tell him to ignore it.

But… “So, what’s your question?” I can’t pass up the chance he’ll become a little more the Peter I love. Even though I shouldn’t.

He looks dangerously focused into my eyes, which is also very Old Peter-like. “Were we a couple, before?”

Ahhhh, whoops. I don’t know what I thought he was going to ask, but for some reason this didn’t occur to me. If I tell him the truth, he might remember more then he should. Not to mention the fact that it’ll ruin whatever relationship we have now. And if I tell him a lie, he’ll know. “Umm, well… uh, yeah.”

I hold my breath, as soon as the last word escapes my lips. Have I ruined it? Will he remember, and hate me? He’s silent for just a moment, not giving me enough to time to think of a plan if he does remember, before he leans back in his chair, muscles relaxing.

“Well, that’s news.” Well, that’s not the reaction I expected or one I wanted! At least be sensitive to my situation, Peter! He looks away from me and to the side of the room, and I watch. How will he take this? Will he leave? “Thought I felt something. No wonder I wanted to be with you so bad.”

“Hm, and I thought the new you was just annoying.” I get up from the table and head for the door. “Well, you better go, before you remember anything else,”

“Well, I kinda want to now.”

Don’t be serious, don’t be serious, don’t be serious…

“No, you don’t.” You didn’t want to remember before, you’ll hate yourself even more if you miss out on your one chance to change yourself easily. You’re already doing so well! Don’t do this to yourself, please. “Just trust me, telling you that you don’t want that.”

He looks at me again, and his green eyes change again. He gets up from his seat and comes over to me, a little too close. Oh, no. he doesn’t think just because I was with the other him that he’ll get any action, does he? The jerk. I look up at his face, craning my neck since he’s so close, and feel my heart plunge to my feet. He’s made up his mind, he wants to know. I shake my head at him, he smirks. “Come on, Y/N. Haven’t you missed me?”

I groan, and push him away. “Nooo… I mean, yes. But you’re not him. And I won’t take away your chance, to- “He brings me back to him his familiar hands on my hips. It’s like trying a drug that I long gave up… but still feels so good. Stubbornly though, I pick his hands off of me. I have to try to avoid his eyes. “Peter, go home.”

“No.” The resolve and the determination in his voice shocks me and I look up quickly at his face. He would’ve never refused to leave me alone like that earlier today. Already, his old self is coming… oh no. Groaning again, I turn to open the door and force him out. This is not good. We were doing so well! We were nearing our 6-month mark! It was going to work! And now… now… well, it can still work! It will. I just need to get him out of her- His hands are on me again, oh no. That feels good.

“Y/N… “He tightens his grip on my waist nearly painfully, so familiar and demanding me to give in and enjoy it. You know, before the morning comes and he remembers everything and shuns me. But I wont give up, and I put my hands on his again to try and peel them off, before his breath hits the side of my neck and his voice, dark and with that ever-joking way about it, causing me to pause. The asshole tone. “I want to remember, now. And you’re my ticket. Plus… you’re mine, right? I have some punishment to implement for talking to Four. For some reason that really pissed me off.”

My body’s ahead of my mine, in this. Already leaning back and feeling the warmth of his chest against my back while my mouth still talks about him leaving. “You’ll regret this.”

“Hell I will, now come on.” I turn around to face him, causing him to flash me a bright, Peter smile before he much too soon since I wasn’t really expecting him to ever do this again, kisses me, and it feels so good my resolve melts away. Of course, its still hanging around back there in the back of my heart, but now all the time I wasn’t touching him, wasn’t thinking about him this way has taken over. Not to mention pure, dumb, human sex drive.

SMUT FROM HERE ON

Kissing is nice for a couple minutes, at least. Everywhere his body touches mine, from our chests to our lips and our tongues to my arms over his broad shoulders and his hands holding my hips against his feels solid and exciting. The way he kisses me can only be described as being carnal. Purely animalistic, wanting to taste, and the way I’m kissing back isn’t different at all. I can’t help sucking gently on his tongue when his lips part, causing a lascivious groan to come from him.

In fact, in response, one of his hands comes up to cup the back of my neck and hold my head in place so he take control of the kiss entirely, the other arm hooking around my lower back and compressing me against him. I don’t know if it was his goal, but now I can feel clearly the wicked, familiarly full way of his pants when he’s turned on. Which he is, right now. Truly.

It makes me think for how long he’s been waiting for this, if he’s gotten so stiff so quickly. I can’t say though that I’m in much a different situation. My keenness for him is so that my core is dripping in wait, wanting to be filled by him. Impatient, I break the kiss and nearly give in to it again when his lips nearly follow me but stay strong. “Peter… “Oh god, oxygen. Breath, need it. He’s so hot. His hair’s a mess of brown surrounding his head, scar on his neck is calling out to be sucked on, and his eyes are beautiful. Green, and mesmerising, and tempting as ever. Giving in feels a lot like freedom.

“Yeah?” The word comes out as a breath, quiet with just a hint of his voice peaking around.

I trace my hands down from his shoulders to the rest of him, enjoying the feel. “Sit down, I can’t ride you standing up.”

“Oh, right.” Once he’s sitting down, I can clearly see his erection straining defiantly against his pants before he takes them off, his underwear going to the same place on the floor. I want to sit on it so badly, my legs shaking uncontrollably with arousal as I get rid of my own lower garments. When he sees my shining, wet pussy, he embarrassingly zeroes right in on it, an unstable smirk on his lips. Good, then. I like it when he’s unstable. Never know what he’s going to do to me. “C’mere, baby.” Tentatively, hoping I don’t trip on the way because that would be embarrassing as hell, I do as he says. As soon as I get a foot from him, he gets off the chair and kneels in front of me. Oh, god, if he starts anything here my legs won’t keep me up. “Hmmm, I think I remember you wetter,” I struggle to breath for a moment when he, without warning or even looking up at me, swipes a finger up between the slit of my lips. My hands snatch his shoulders, so I can stay up and I open my legs more, ready. “I think I missed this. Can you tell? My fucking cock feels like its going to snap off if I don’t get to have you.” He glances up at me for a second, then does a double take and looks back at my face again, focusing on it. I wonder what’s going through his head. The old Peter would have told me right away, just to see me go red and squirm. He is becoming that one, slowly, but still this Peter just grins devilishly at me, hooks his hands around the back of my knees and nudges me towards him some more. My body moves on its own, reacting to his hands and shuffle forward.

Then, looking into my eyes, he does something that puts me in the palm of his hands. He licks a long stripe, as if I’m an icy pole, deeply through my lips. It makes me rigid, and moan out in bliss, my eyes falling shut. Not one to be dormant though I really want to, to just let him do whatever he wants to me, I take my right hand and entangle my fingers through his soft, hickory hair and grip his shoulder with the other, swinging my leg over his right shoulder before opening my eyes and peering down at him again. He looks surprised, in awe. I feel freaken powerful. “You… you just going to stare at me Peter, or finish what you started.”

Its not a question, it’s a demand. He needs to do that again.

“Yes, Ma’am.” He flashes me another Peter smile, then gets to work. And man, did my move make a difference. It felt good before, but now I really do think I might lose in my legs, especially since I’m only one! And, god, he looks good eating me out. Like he’s kissing me, taking generous gulps every time his tongue scoops some more of my essence, getting deeper with every plunge until I’m trying desperately to distract myself by playing with his hair. Simultaneously though I’m pressing my heat into his mouth.

In the end, it’s the sucking that pushes me over the edge. Just as I’m getting used to the pleasure, he abruptly puts his mouth over my cunt and sucks, causing shock to rush through me and my eyes to widen. ‘Peter!” I gasp, tightening my grip on his hair, as cum explodes from my core. He doesn’t drink it, just leans back on his heels and watches it drip down my thighs in satisfaction. After a moment, he looks like he’s in a trance as he watches, and I reel from the extreme pleasure.

“It’s going to feel so fucking good in there. I missed this.”

“How can you miss something you don’t remember.”

“I remember Capture the Flag,” He says it off-hand, before either of us can realise that he shouldn’t remember that. I remember. Eric had picked him second for his team and me last because it was either me, or Christina and they didn’t have a good track record with her. I found Peter shortly after he got ‘shot’ with those neuro stim guns, and we stuck around that old carnival after everyone else left. He created a really dumb one liner, entailing that it’d make him feel better if I kissed his wounds. We didn’t get back until the early hours of the morning, getting probably near 2 and half hours of sleep. But he shouldn’t remember that.

My eyes snap down to him and hop down on my knees with him, looking into his eyes. Of course, I can’t tell just by looking at his eyeballs if he’s back, but maybe if I stare hard enough, he’ll tell me. After a moment, he just shrugs a little a smiles, blankly back at me. Then leans across and gives me a deep kiss. He pulls back and grins. “You’re the ticket, sweetheart. I knew it.”

Sighing, having let my hopes raise just then that he would be back, and wrap my arms over his shoulders and play more, softly with his hair. Looking at his lips, then his eyes. “Then maybe you should hurry up and take it.” I lower my voice, my heart bleeding to tell the secret I haven’t dares to utter to anyone, since Peter disappeared. “I want you back. I miss you.”

“I want to be back.” He leans towards me, curling an arm around my back so he can carefully lay me back on the floor. “Hey, when he’s back. Tell him for me that he owes you something big, for putting you through this.”

“Peter, are you making a dirty joke to me right now?” I giggle, looking at the ceiling now as he ready’s himself. He laughs, too.

“No, I actually didn’t hear that until you mentioned it. Really.”

“Really,” I roll my eyes, disbelieving.  

“Absolutely Y/N! Now, let me concentrate.” That brings me back to the present. I realise I’m still dripping with cum from before, and when I look up at him above me ready to power into me fully, I realise I still fucking want him. He’s so tall, and strong, and I intend to give him a hickey on that neck scar if it is the last thing I do tonight.

Hooking my legs up and around his waist, I meet him in the middle for the first delicious thrust. I watch curiously, his face as it changes from mischievous to delighted, in an enticingly smutty way. That makes me grin, but then the pleasure hits me and a surprisingly, nearly embarrassingly amorous moan comes from me, as his cock powers through me, rubbing against my inner walls like static. In reaction the pleasure, I arch up into him, and pull him by the hair down to my mouth, pressing a slow, careful kiss to his lips first before moving on to that neck scar.

While he pounds into me, he also feels my ministrations on his neck. I lightly trace the tip of my tongue up the long line, then kiss the middle and start nibbling and sucking there to my liking, taking my time to enjoy it. And I know he does, too, because he mumbled a very sexy, guttural curse at one particular lick. It sent trickles of pleasure all the way down to my core.  

This ecstasy goes on for who knows how long, I certainly wasn’t watching the time, before he lets himself go and I watch through half lidded eyes as he comes apart inside me, the stuff leaking out from around his dick and dripping out of me in warm spurts. I gives one last, hard thrust and I come along with him, a sigh escaping me and a sentence of curses from him. Carefully, he disconnects himself from me, and I get up and help him to his feet, beyond sleepy now. “… okay. That was nice, now… sleep?” I giggle, at the understatement and at his cute weary look.

“Show the way,”

“Yes sir, come on.” I lead him by the hand to my bedroom. Quickly we clean ourselves up, and then we hop in and the bed is so, extremely comfy after the floor. “Can’t believe we did that on the floor when this was here… “I mumble, tiredly.

“Wouldn’t be the weirdest place.” He pulls me toward him and I entangle our legs, almost subconiously. I’m so tired I don’t pick up on that hint. 

Snorting, I shake my head as I start to fall asleep. “No, guess not… “

~~~

In the morning, I wake up to peter already awake. He hasn’t moved much, just… you know, rested his head on his fist and is watching me sleep.

I squint and push my head back further into my pillow and away from him suspiciously. “… Goodmorning.”

He flashes a wicked grin. Wide smile and dull eyes, like he wants you to think he knows something you don’t. Or worse, he does. Very Peter-like. “Morning, beautiful.”

Even more suspiciously, I try to figure out first on my own what’s up, because something surely is. All I remember is what we did last night, and shame washes over me. Oh, lord… it’s too early for this. “What?”

“Told you, you were the ticket- “That makes me gasp, and sit up immediately, hitting my forehead on his and causing pain that I ignore. He rubs his forehead, but doesn’t seem mad. Just cheeky, and a little evil. “Christ, Y/N, I guess the honeymoons over, huh??”

I clench the sheets under my fists and chew on my bottom lip. “You’re… back?”

He just gives me a look, like ‘Well, obviously’.

No, no. I need a real answer. Does he realise what he’s put me through?? Probably. He is a jerk after all. “Peter?”

“The one and only.”