#*staring at the mirror with tense shoulders and a sheen of sweat on my forehead*

[wackywritings]

Rafe Cameron - Stare into my eyes

Summary: Y/N and Rafe have a complicated relationship. One minute they're on the brink of kissing, the next they're fighting because he's wanting to get high again.

Warnings: cursing, mentions of drugs, fighting.

If it wasn't for the loud music at Barry's and the chatter of people under the influence of god knows what concoction of substances, perhaps she would've heard him arrive on his bike. But alas, she didn't. She was blisfully oblivious as he stumbled up the few steps leading to the trailer, his eyes searching the crowd for her.

"Country club! What you doin' here bro?" It was Barry's voice that made her blood run cold, the conversation she was previously engaging in long forgotten. He was here.

She stood up abruptly, her chair scraping over the wooden floor making an awfully high-pitched sound, piercing the ringing in her ears. She passed by him on her way to Barry's bathroom, not even having to spare him a glance to know he was trailing close behind as soon as he tracked her movement, only to leave a confused Barry behind. He never quite understood the relationship between the two. It's a good thing she didn't look up at him, because she would've no doubt seen the change in his eyes upon meeting hers; hard eyes void of emotion, fleeting around the room anxiously turning into a soft gaze that didn't focus on anything but her. If it wasn't him, now, it would've been almost endearing.

But it was.

He followed her into the bathroom, locking the door behind him as soon as they were both in the cramped space. It was quieter here, but instead of bringing some peace, it only made their thoughts louder. She wasn't looking at him yet, her back to him as he pondered over how to break the silence. How to address this wrack-up of a matter he'd gotten himself into.

"So. I'm a bit high." He cringed immediately after the words left his mouth, internally cursing at himself.

"Yeah, I figured that much, Cameron." She held up her hands in exasperation, but her frustation soon turned into worry as she finally took in the boy's appearance. His right eye sported a new bruise, green and purple and red mixing together on his sunkissed skin.

"You're hurt."

"Clearly. Why else would I get high?"

"Because you have an addiction?" Her eyebrows raised as she crossed her arms over her chest. She was not afraid of him in the slightest. "C'mon, Y/N." His tone was pleading, no, begging. In any other instance, he would've loved her having an attitude, doing anything in his power to rile her up even more. But right now he just needed someone to take care of him.

Her stance softened considerably as she took in the rest of his appearance: the bags beneath his eyes, the locks of hair - not gelled back like usual - sticking to his forehead that was covered in a sheen of sweat, not unlike his polo.

"Okay." She whispered, ever so slowly nodding her head, before moving past him to unlock the door. He didn't smell like the cologne he normally wore, a mix of alcohol and sweat floating between the small space between them. "Let's get you something to change into, alright?" Though she didn't wait for his answer as she opened the door, moving straight to Barry's room.

"You gonna dress me in a wifebeater or some shit?" He inquired with a chuckle as he followed her, plopping himself down on the bed as he intently watched her rummage through Barry's wardrobe. Most of his high had worn off already, and he could begin to feel it.

"Are you kidding? He'll notice it's his and have your ass for it. I'm sure he has some decent shirts he never wears. It'll be less obvious." She reasoned as she opened multiple drawers to find what she was looking for. A victorious 'aha' left her as she finally found what she was after, turning around with the blue longsleeve held high in her hand, only for her proud expression to change into shock, her mouth hanging open.

He'd taken the liberty of taking his shirt off already, something she hand't noticed him doing. She should've said something- anything, so he wouldn't question her change in demeanor. Joked teasingly with him, or even just asked if he thought it would fit. But she couldn't utter a single word as she looked at him. His shoulders broad, arms more muscular than she imagined them to be under his usual attire. Not to mention his chest, or the muscles in his abdomen that rippled underneath his skin (God it looked so soft. She wondered what it would feel like under her grazing fingertips) as he moved to stand up from the bed. She felt her heart hammer against her chest, flushed cheeks as she tried to look anywhere but his shirtless form.

"Gonna give me that?" He was pointing to the shirt still firm in her hand, an amused look on his face. The smugness made her snap out of it - as if his ego needed any more boasting.

"Don't flatter yourself." She scoffed, though she made no attempt to throw him the shirt. It took three, maybe four quick strides for him to be right up in her personal space. She was trying to stand her ground, straighten her back and keep eye contact to seem less affected by their current predicament. She was sure he could hear the hammering of her heart anyway. "Just took me off guard, 's all." She managed to murmur, bringing her bottom lip between her teeth to keep herself from shyly smiling.

He wasn't one to play with her feelings - he knew the kind of effect he had on her. But he quite enjoyed dancing around the subject with her, flirting and teasing and tender touches shared after spending long days together. It was their thing. He had convinced himself it was all he needed from her. God forbid he was honest about how much she meant to him, how much he craved her presence.

"Hm. Did you rather have me change in the bathroom, doll?" He came incomprehensibly closer to her, a breath too deep would have their chests touch. His eyes were boring into hers, now at eye level with her as he bent down slightly.

"I-" She wanted to say something. Tell him a warning would've been sufficient, adding a wink just to tease him back. Maybe say she wanted to be the one to take his shirt off, if she so dared. But his blue eyes were so mesmerising - specs of light shimmering in the dark blue pools of his irises, his pupils focused on her and only her. She could look away to stop the tight feeling from spreading in her chest, sure, but then she'd have to look at his large shoulders covered in freckles and sweat, or his chest rising with every breath he took. Warm breaths that she could feel hit her lips ever so softly. Getting lost in his eyes really was the only option she had. Inevitably, so was losing her words.

And it made him smile. A real, genuine smile. If he wasn't so close perhaps she wouldn't have noticed the way his eyes twinkled, how creases at the corner of his eyes formed, how that dimple arose on his chin.

As if that wasn't enough to make her weak at the knees and her breath hitch in her throat, the bolt of electricity that she felt when his long fingers touched hers, tracing around them like it was some kind of game to him, would've done her in.

"That's what I thought." His voice was raspy and dangerously low as he whispered it - so close to her mouth she wished he would just close the goddamn gap already. But it's Rafe, so of course he didn't. He just tugged on Barry's shirt held tight between her fingers, grabbing it and putting it on a split second later.

"How do I look?" His questioned as he couldn't find a mirror in the room, hopefully glancing at her.

"Peachy." She nodded as she wiped her hands on her jeans. She was upset at the loss of proximity, so perhaps what was supposed to be a comment of teasing nature came out harsher than she meant. Something that didn't go lost on him. Maybe he did take it too far just now.

"Alright, well. I gotta find Barry." He discarded her previous comment, rubbing his nose. The high had officially worn off completely now, and he was dying for more. Though he wasn't sure if it was because he wanted to forget his earlier fight, or forget her. How he felt about her, and how he wasn't ever gonna be enough for her. How he would never have the guts to do something about it.

"Rafe-" She started sternly, glaring at him. Though she quieted down as he held his hands up.

"No, not this again, okay? You don't have shit to say about this, you hear me?"

"What, that's it?" She let out a dry laugh as she stood in front of him, blocking the door. "You're just gonna get high again. Seriously?"

"Y/N, don't start with me now." His voice was threatening now, glaring on the edge of venomous.

"It always ends the same, Rafe, and you were high just minutes ago. Don't you think that was enough? Don't you ever get bored of this shit?" She was asking too many difficult questions for his liking. Her tone was exasparated, too. Tired of having to deal with him and his stupid issues. Of having to patch him up and take care of his pathetic self that just couldn't get fucking clean. He felt the urge to scream, but bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from acting on it.

"What, you're not even gonna say anything?"

"Stop." He gritted his teeth, jaw clenched as he spat at her.

She threw her hands up, before running them through her hair. How was she supposed to stay calm - or approach this situation when he wouldn't even talk to her?

"I just- you're hurting people with this. You're not you, Rafe. Not anymore. I mean look at you." She gestured towards him.

"You don't know who I am."

"But I do!" She all but screamed at him. He kept his composure and his cold glare, but she noticed the way his shoulders tensed upwards at her outburst. So she closed her eyes and took a deep breath to try and calm herself down. "I know you. You're sweet and gentle and caring and so incredibly smart."

"Y/N." He wasn't used to compliments, or feeling this many emotions, for that matter. He could feel the need for another line coursing through every inch of his body. He just needed a little bit. Just needed to be able to breathe again.

"No, I'm serious. You're a great brother to Wheezie, you're great to me."

"Don't." He twisted his head to the side, his eyes rolling back as he felt his whole body heating up again, Barry's shirt no doubt already showing sweat stains. But she was far too invested in telling him how amazing he was, eyes trained on the ground as her brows furrowed, words flowing from her mouth at such a rate that in any other situation would've made him wonder where she found the time to breathe. So she didn't listen nor notice how he was struggling.

"You're always trying to please your father."

"Y/N, do not-"

"No, Rafe. I know how much he means to you, but you're never gonna be able to please him if you keep using! He's just going to keep abusing you and you're gonna keep being disappointed and running to Barry to stop yourself from feeling it."

He was proper boiling right now. Sweat was trickling down his forehead, jaw shut tight as he balled his fist at his side. They always say anger looks red, but even with his eyes shut tight all he saw was white. Pure, white, blinding rage. Everywhere in his mind - dying to creep out all at once.

"And it's just this vicious cycle that's never gonna end. And I worry for the day that it becomes your death, Rafe!" She all but yelled his name, voice hoarse and filled with unplaceable emotions.

"Shut your fucking mouth!" He bellowed out, two quick steps bringing him right in front of her, his fist making contact with the door behind her before he even knew he moved his fist in the first place. She cowered down at the proximity of the sound. His body was flush against hers now, even closer than they were before. He was breathing hard, his arms on either side of her as he trapped her between him and the door. His skin touching hers felt hot and damp, but it still made her shiver. Not in a good way though, not like before.

The worst of it all wasn't even his anger, or the drugs, or the fact that she knew she wouldn't be able to stop him.

It was his eyes.

The ones that she had so lovingly stared into mere minutes ago. The ones that held so much adoration and passion for her. The ones that twinkled under the light, sparkled with mischief as he playfully teased her. The ones that she could look into and feel safe - no matter what. The ones that she considered to belong to her home.

They were darker now. Harsh and fierce, flaring up with anger as he looked into her frightened eyes. His eyebrows were furrowed hard, a frown between them. The shadows they casted leaving sharp edges prominent on his face. The specs of light weren't not visible anymore, they were simply gone. She couldn't even distinguish the blue from his pupils. She'd never been the subject of his rage before, and she never understood how most people feared him. But now? As he looked down on her with no emotion but anger written on his face, he looked scary to her for the first time. And she wondered if his eyes would ever feel the same again as her own filled with tears.

"Don't talk about my father again." His voice was strained but louder than she expected. He leaned into her even more to give power to the threathening statement, before completely pushing off. Large hands wrapped around her arms, fingers digging into her skin bordering on putting enough pressure to leave a bruise. He forced her away from the door. Perhaps he expected more of a struggle from her, but she was so shocked by his behaviour that she could only take small and hasty steps away from the door, scared to anger him more. He janked the door open, the sound of the loud bass of the music hitting her ears. The sensory stimulation was too much for her to bear, and she looked up both in a prayer for him to leave and to keep the tears from falling.

"And don't talk to me. We're done." He added. She wanted to look into his eyes. As much as they scared her now, she needed to know if they held any more emotion than his completely void voice just did. But he'd already slammed the door shut.

She was left looking at the closed door as she finally allowed the tears to soak her cheeks.

[talkfastromance4]

simmer down-- calum hood oneshot

yeah so this started out as a blurb but...I got carried away. The beginning is really descriptive and Calum doesn’t come in until the end but it’s some fluff after a horrible week I had. 

Word count: 1.6k

Enjoy! :)

***

You come home in a huff, your anger is evident in the rise of your heart rate and the slight shake in your fingers. If you were a cartoon, there would be steam emitting from your ears. Calum or Duke haven’t greeted you yet which you’re a little thankful for. 

When you’re frustrated, you tend to let it stew and fester inside until you’re in the safe space of your home. One comment that rubbed you the wrong way and you exploded in harsh words and a snap in your jaw. 

You don’t mean to do it, and you know it’s unfair to lash out so it’s best that you aren’t around anyone when you’re heated. It gives you time to simmer down and get your thoughts in check. 

You place your leftover lunch in the fridge and your lunchbox in its proper place then you rinse out your coffee cup placing it next to the coffee pot for the next day. There’s some crumbs you notice out of the corner of your eye on the counter where you place the cutting board when it’s in use. Calum must have made a breakfast sandwich and missed a few pieces during clean up.

With a small sigh, you swipe the crumbs with your hand and slip them into your other cupped hand to toss them in the trash. Then you turn the faucet on to let it warm and you suds up the washcloth and decide to clean up the whole counter before proceeding to your shared bedroom.

The living room catches your eye and you see a pillow on the floor and a coffee mug left on the table. You fluff the pillow placing it back in the middle of the couch and see Calum’s journal laid open next to his coffee mug that now holds stale coffee. Knowing he likes to keep his writing private until he deems it finished and shares it with you, you turn the cover but notice the words ‘8 hour absence’ scrawled at the top of the page.

Nothing else. You organize the magazines and other books of art and music before looping your fingers in the handle of the mug. There’s a ring of coffee lining the inside when you rinse it out, usually he finishes it. 

It’s for him not to be home when you’re done with work, you think and make your way back to your room. You strip out of your clothes, folding them neatly on the end of your bed. You snatch your favorite shirt of Calum’s, breathing it in as you head into the bathroom. A warm shower always helps clear your head and ease your tense muscles. 

You don’t look in the mirror as you wipe your makeup off with a wipe, tossing the rose smelling towelette into the trash. You remove your bra and underwear and turn on the shower, letting it rain through your fingers until you turn the knob to the perfect temperature. When it’s just the way you want it, you step into the water, the pressure pelts your face like a warm summer’s rain.

You close your eyes and just feel the water roll over your skin, you rub at your neck and twist your head from left to right so the water hits both of your temples. The constant thrum of the stream soothes you and you think you could stay in here for hours. 

Memories of doing just that with Calum surface in your mind. When he’s been gone for promo or interviews all day and your schedules don’t meet up, you always find each other in the shower. Like ships passing in the night finally joining together. 

His hands would roam over your curves while his lips taste the water off your skin starting at your shoulder to the conjuncture of your neck making you tilt your head sideways. When he nibbles at your ear, your body reacts with a pleasurable shiver and a soft laugh. Your own hands are squeezing around his forearms and biceps, your thumb stroking his warm wet skin. 

You’d spend hours under the water catching up on each other’s day with soft kisses in between. Once you’d be all caught up he’d press you against the gray slate wall, his mouth sucking your neck while his fingers pull pleasure in between your legs. Sometimes he’d even be on his knees before you, your leg hitched over one shoulder and his brown eyes daring you to keep staring at him. 

Not wanting to get too caught up in your real life fantasies, you continue your shower and massage the shampoo into your scalp. 

There’s steam on the mirror when you get out and slip on Calum’s shirt. Your anger dissipated and swirled down the drain and the smell of him clinging to the fabric makes you miss him. Your body is sluggish and more relaxed when you put your clothes back in dresser drawers and closet hangers. 

You decide to watch a movie until he comes home but when you make it back downstairs, the door closes and Duke is sniffing and licking at your feet and legs. His tail wags lazily from side to side and you scratch between his ears. 

“You took a shower without me?” Calum’s smooth rumbled tone makes you look up at him. He has on a muscle tee with some athletic shorts, his curls held back by a thin purple headband, his forehead has a thin sheen of sweat. His lips are pulled into a mocking smile while his eyes scan over you in his shirt. 

Upon seeing him, you feel your whole day--your whole week--crash all around you again and you skip into his arms. His arms wrap around your shoulders instinctively, caging you safely against him and you bury your face in his chest. You squeeze his middle as tightly as you can because somehow it keeps you from not falling apart. 

“Hey…” his nose nudges into your wet hair and you feel his lips give a kiss. “What’ssa matter? Bad day?” All you can do is nod and squeeze harder. “You want to talk about it?” You shake your head. “Want me to just hold you for a bit?” You nod again and he chuckles at your silent communication. “I can do that…”

You remain there in the entryway, holding each other and listening to him tell you about his day. He woke up not too long after you left for work (he was disappointed he missed giving a good morning kiss) and made a breakfast sandwich with avocado and vegemite. 

“Which was a pretty good combo, surprisingly, I don’t think you’d like it, though.”

Then he took Duke out and watched him sniff around the yard for a while and enjoyed the sun himself.  He tried to write over a cup of coffee then fell asleep again for a bit. 

“I had a dream we were camping in a small camper, just the two of us and Duke. There were millions of stars, it almost felt like we were on another planet.”

He tried writing at the piano but the notes weren’t flowing from his head properly.

“And when I picked up my guitar my fingers fuckin’ froze up,” he chuckles and kisses your hair again. “I can’t seem to write without my muse here.”

You smile into his shirt, his words giving you butterflies. He tells you constantly you’re his muse but it never fails to make your heart flutter. You tilt your head back, gazing up at him and feel his breath on your face. He didn’t shave today so his stubble is more prominent, you secretly hope he grows it out. 

“You’re a cheese ball,” you grin. 

“I’m your cheese ball,” he pecks your nose, your cheeks, your forehead, your nose again. He continues the circle of kisses until you’re giggling. “How about a back rub?”

“If you insist!”

You’re on top of him on the couch, watching an 80’s movie with his fingers making ellipticals over your back. That’s when you finally open up about your horrible week. He hums and scoffs and even threatens to have a talk with your co-workers.

“You’re a hard worker, sweetheart, I know it sucks that you pick up their slack but it will payoff in the end. You could get a big bonus at the end of the year, don’t think your work doesn’t go unnoticed.”

“Thank you,” you say in a small voice. 

“Look at me.”

You turn your head, his lips smooth and inviting.

“I mean it, sweetheart. Keep being the badass that I know you are, and you know you are.”

“The anger helps me work harder,” you grimace.

“You don’t seem angry now,” he cocks his head to the side. 

“I did a little cleaning, the shower helped and I thought about you...it helped me simmer down.”

His eyes flash and he wriggles underneath you until he pulls out his phone.

“What are you--”

“Shush!” 

You watch him patiently as his fingers move across the screen, then the familiar sound of ‘She Looks so Perfect’ emits from the phone speakers. He flops his phone on his chest, the ‘hey-hey’s’ are muffled and he’s smiling widely. 

“Simmer down, simmer down,” he sings along and you roll your eyes. 

“A cheese ball,” you mock, poking his nose before stretching up to kiss him. The kiss lingers into something more and your legs move in a straddling position over his thighs. 

“Don’t move honey,” he mumbles along with his own voice and his hands slip under your shirt. You simmered down only to have your temperature risen again, but this time you know you’ll like the ending result.

Taglist: @calumance  @in-superbloom @calpalirwin @karajaynetoday @wiiildflowerrr @sunshineeeluke @littledrummeraussie @suchalonelysunflower @hoodhoran @fobodob @thew0rldneedsmcreycghurt @sunshineeashton @ashtonsunflower​ @mymindwide​ @itjustkindahappenedreally

[noctuaas]

ON THE DOWN LOW

synopsis; you share a dirty little secret with your host family’s son.

pairing; tendou satori x reader

content; nsfw/smut, fem!reader, friends with benefits, clothed sex, morning sex, don’t get caught

word count; 1.8k

At this rate, you were going to be late for school. Wouldn’t that look great; the one foreign exchange student in your homeroom stumbling into class long after the bell, out of breath with her hair mussed up and skirt wrinkled. You could only pray that no one on the school board would choose to call up your host family and tell them that not only was the exchange student they were housing tardy this morning, but their son was as well.

 You couldn’t exactly blame Tendou for initiating this at such an unusual time. He saw an opportunity, and he pounced on it, simple as that. With his mother out of town and his father already gone for an early morning business meeting, you honestly weren’t even surprised that he spent the morning spouting off flirtatious comments; only that it led to this.

“You’re not gonna have time for breakfast,” you panted down at him.

“What do you mean?” Tendou finally pulled away from the home he had found between your legs. His eyes travelled up to meet your own, and you knew from personal experience that your clothes were the only thing stopping his gaze from taking a detour across your body. “This is my breakfast.” 

“I think most people would rather have breakfast in bed,” you joked back. Risking a glance at the clock on the microwave, you saw there was less than 30 minutes until class started.

“I figured eating at the counter was quicker,” he chuckled deviously. Tendou mirrored your glance, quickly evaluating his options before slowly beginning to rise to his feet. The light caught your slick smeared across his lips, glinting tauntingly before getting drug under his tongue. He was never one to wipe his chin with the back of his hand. Instead, he licked everything away, savoring your taste, like he was on death row and you really were his last meal. 

As he rose to your level, you pushed up from where you were leaning back on the countertop and met his lips halfway. The redhead’s tongue was against yours immediately, insisting you taste yourself in his mouth.

 It was almost intoxicating, only fueled by the feeling of Tendou’s clothed erection pressing against your bare sex. You couldn’t resist the whine that seeped between your lips when his fingers clawed at your hips, pulling you ever closer. 

Time was of the essence here, and at this point you were becoming needy. The hand that had found its way into his hair rerouted to slip down to his waistband, but you were interrupted.

“You should ask nicely,” Tendou intercepted your fingers at his belt, barring you from entrance.

“You started it,” you scoffed like a petty little kid.

Tendou didn’t move an inch. Those scarlet eyes of his bore into you, and you tried to stare back, but your resolve was no match to his. “Please,” you finally murmured, fingers nudging his belt buckle once more. His devious grin stretched wider at your submission.

He had the tip of his cock pressing into you faster than you had ever seen. There was no undressing; the only thing tossed away was his belt, which joined your previously discarded underwear on the tile floor with a clank; the slacks of his uniform were shoved down just below his ass cheeks, barely far enough to free himself.

The feeling of Tendou filling you made you let out a long sigh, like he was finally relieving a persistent ache. Instinctually, your legs hiked higher up his sides, pulling him deeper, and if it weren’t for the fact that he was already sliding himself back out, you’d have crossed your ankles to keep him close.

Tendou found a rhythm quickly. It started out slow, focused more on technique and allowing himself to kiss and tug at your lips before moving to lap at your throat hungrily; if you didn’t know any better, you’d almost say it was sensual. It didn’t last long though, each thrust increasing with speed until he was driving into you at the rapid pace you expected from this race against time.

“Fuck, kitten, you feel so good,” Tendou groaned into the crook of your neck. The pet name sent tingles through your skin, crawling down your body until it settled like fire in your lower gut. The only response you gave was the flex of your fingers, nails digging into his shoulders and grasping at his shirt.

The force of his thrusts caused you to let out little mewls and moans in huffs, breath escaping your lungs with every slam of his hips against yours. Tendou had to hook an arm under your knee and grab onto your thigh to keep you flush with the edge of the counter. Though his palm was cold to the touch, you swore your skin burned under the calloused pads of his fingers.

Combined with the tightening internal coil from Tendou’s actions, the burning of your abs as you tried to hold yourself upright was becoming too much to handle. Pulling away from Tendou’s face, you placed your hands behind you so you could lean back and brace against them. You were just beginning to sink back onto your elbows when the sound of the door to the utility room crashing open jolted you from your bliss.

Shooting back upright, a yelp of surprise nearly escaped you, but Tendou’s hand was clamped over your mouth in an instant. You both stared at each other, wide-eyed and frozen in place, as footsteps echoed from the utility room. It was only separated from the kitchen by a small, open archway.

When a voice grumbled out something about ‘forgot my briefcase,’ you instantly recognized it as Tendou’s father.

Step, step, step.

The sound of his heavy footfalls seemed to retreat further into the laundry room, but you knew he still couldn’t be more than 10 feet away. Tendou craned his neck back, trying to peek further past the doorway, before turning back to you with that mischievous smirk of his.

“Shhh,” he whispered almost inaudibly, letting go of your leg and placing a finger over his lips. You didn’t even have time to wonder what he was up to before he was pushing himself back into you, slowly, as if testing the waters.

 The pleasant pressure was minor enough to ignore, and the only response you gave was a worried glance past Tendou’s shoulder at the doorway. You could still hear the shuffling of movement across the wall.

Displeased by your lack of reaction, Tendou took the hand that wasn’t covering your mouth and brought it down between your hips. His thumb dipped around where you two were connected, collecting your juices so that when he moved it up to rub your clit, it glided over it without unwanted friction.

Now, that got your attention. Your stomach tensed and you huffed into his fingers, which only led Tendou to tighten his grip on your face; his hand was firm enough that not a lick of air would escape your mouth, but just barely gentle enough that no marks would be left.

His thumb brushed against your clit in every direction until he found the perfect mix of pressure and angle that made your hips buck and eyes roll into fluttering eyelids. As soon as he discovered this, he repeated the motion, but this time snapped his hips into you as well.

Oh, how badly you wanted to gasp and whine and moan his name, but instead you choked on your own voice and forced it back into your chest.

If we get caught, you thought, I’m so getting kicked out of the exchange program.

You hated to admit it, but the idea was kind of thrilling. It was like throwing lighter fluid on the fire in your belly.

Every time the roll of Tendou’s hips lined up perfectly with the way he thumbed your clit, white hot electricity seared through your lower abdomen. He was hitting that spot more and more, and the heat was pooling now. You grabbed onto his wrist, the one at your face, and squeezed sharply; you were trying to channel every urge to cry out into the aching grip you had on his arm.

The coil in your gut was seconds from snapping, and you could tell Tendou was in a similar boat; his jaw was clenched and his eyes half lidded. You begged him with your eyes, silently told him how badly you wanted to cum. 

Through both your hazes, the sound of a briefcase clicking closed broke in. It was quiet, barely louder than a pin drop, yet somehow felt as loud as a gun firing next to your ear.  Tendou’s head lifted slightly in realization, then he gave you a hasty nod of encouragement.

Creeeaaaaakkk, slam!

As soon as his father was gone, Tendou was mumbling, “Come for me, baby girl, come on.”

He didn’t have to ask twice. You were already falling over the edge, the pleasure rolling from your core out to your finger and toe tips before rolling back again. He finally broke his hand away from your face, and you gasped for air, gasped his name, gasped until your lungs couldn't take any more. Your heels dug into his back, pressed into his spine like you might be able to collapse into him.

You didn’t know exactly how long it took for Tendou to finish behind you. You were coming down from your high and the next thing you knew, he had his cock in his hand and he was spilling out all over your thighs.

Both of you heaved until your breathing evened out, foreheads pressed together. At long last, Tendou broke the silence with a chuckle, and you couldn’t resist laughing as well.

When he peeled away from you to grab a dish towel and clean you up, your skin stuck together from the sticky sheen of sweat. You were lucky he managed to not get anything on your skirt.

“You’re in big trouble,” you said as he placed his routine post-sex kiss on your cheek.

“Why—” he babbled incredulously, “What for?”

“Because,” you glanced at the clock, “We have less than 15 minutes to get to class.”

“Shit!” Tendou scrambled to pull himself together, hastily running about as he shoved his dick back in his pants. You followed suit, jumping off the counter and grabbing your underwear. You tugged them on with about as much coordination as you could while hopping down the hall to get your backpack and shoes. You were both running around like bats out of hell, cackling with laughter by the time you were out the door.

You ran the whole way to school. At least it was a reasonable explanation for why you looked sweaty enough to have just had a sex marathon.

[one-boring-person]

Are you taking requests for Top Gun?? If so could I get a Maverickxreader where he and reader like each other, but reader thinks him and Carole, from the first one, are a thing. So she avoids him until he has enough and goes to her and angst argument about it all and then they end up together! ❤️❤️👉🏼👈🏼

I am indeed taking Top Gun requests, so keep 'em coming! I hope you like this!❤💛

Don't Lie To Me.

Pete "Maverick" Mitchell x reader

Warnings: angst

Masterlist

They're together again. As close as ever, shoulders nearly touching as they sit across from Wolfman and I, faces beaming with broad smiles as always, clearly happy as Larry, neither of them noticing my slight discomfort, my gaze swiftly averting from his handsome face. Maverick eyes me briefly, taking note of my suddenly quiet disposition, offering me a smaller smile than the one he was carrying before, Charlie following his gaze, smirking as she sees me, the gesture stirring up a mixture of jealousy and longing within me. As usual, Wolfman continues the conversation without me, already aware of my discomfort and situation, trying to make this as easy for me as possible by taking their attention away from each other, allowing me to fight the internal conflict raging inside me in silence, my mood becoming more and more sour as the minutes pass.

"I heard we have another mission later? Have any information for us, Charlie?" The man beside me inquires, setting down his fork and sitting forward in his chair.

"I don't, I'm not at liberty to say anything." She denies, smiling apologetically around at us.

"What, is it classified?" Maverick teases, his tone striking a chord inside me - he used to tease me in that voice, but lately he's stopped. Probably due to his newfound relationship with our civilian officer, the thought of which makes me tense up, inadvertently tightening my grip on my fork.

"Correct." Charlie grins back, eyes sparkling cheerfully as they stare at each other, completely ignoring Wolfman and me in particular.

Biting my lip, I shove my chair out from under the table and stand, muttering some barely audible excuse as I take my plate to the clearing station, aggressively emptying all the leftovers into the bin before replacing the cutlery and plate in the tray nearby. I leave the room very quickly afterwards, nearly bumping into Viper as he goes to enter the dining hall, a hurried apology leaving me as I salute him and carry on down the corridor, my feet director themselves to my room. On my way, I encounter a few other commanders and senior officers, saluting them all as they pass, trying not to let my emotions show, though they are doing their best to reveal themselves. Upon arriving at the door to my room, I unlock it and let myself in, going straight to the vanity table, where I lean my hands on it, peering into the mirror.

I'm not surprised to see that my face is contorted into some weird grimace, clearly showing the struggle to repress the raging emotions within me, sweat coating my forehead in a glossy sheen. Lifting a hand, I swipe some of it away, wiping the moisture onto the fabric of my trousers, my eyes falling on a Polaroid on the top of the desk, the familiar photograph portraying Maverick and I on our first day out of pilot school, back when our friendship was very much platonic. Slowly, I pick it up, running a thumb over the creased surface, smiling slightly at our excited expressions, remembering the day in perfect clarity.

A sharp knock on the door snaps me from my thoughts.

Spinning, I smooth out my hair and go to it, opening it to whoever is standing outside, my heart dropping when I see who it is, my expression probably falling, too.

"Can I help you?" I ask, keeping my voice level as I look up at Maverick, butterflies fluttering in my stomach as they always do when I lay eyes on him. I try to ignore them as best I can.

"Yeah, I want to talk to you. Can I come in?" The pilot informs me, normally confident demeanour faltering slightly.

"I guess." I respond flatly, allowing him in. Instead of sitting on the chair he usually takes, Maverick chooses to stand, keeping his eyes trained on me as I close the door and stand with my back to it, looking anywhere but at him. For a good few minutes, we're silent, as if searching for something to talk about, the tension thick enough that it's nearly suffocating.

"What did you want to talk about?" I finally ask, making eye contact for the first time.

"Why you're avoiding me." He simply says, lifting an eyebrow.

Clenching my jaw, I try not to feel embarrassed that he's noticed my attempts to stay away from him and his girlfriend, though I should've known he'd find out eventually.

"I'm not avoiding you." I counter, lying through my teeth.

"Don't lie to me, (Y/n). You're avoiding me, and have been for weeks now. I just wanna know why." The pilot responds, rolling his eyes a little at me, an action which draws some irrational anger into me.

"I don't know what you're talking about." I continue to deny, knowing I'm just digging myself a hole now, but carrying on doing so anyway.

"Why are you lying to me? You and I both know you've been ignoring me!" Maverick's voice rasies slightly, his body tensing up as he becomes angrier, grey eyes piercing through me.

"I'm not! I don't know what you mean, so if there's nothing else you want to talk about, then I think you should leave!" I curse myself internally for saying that, knowing I may well have ruined our friendship with that one sentence.

"Are you being serious right now?!" He exclaims, stepping closer, his jaw sharply defined as the muscles in his neck become rigid, "You're actually trying to tell me you don't know what I'm talking about? Don't be so stupid, (Y/n)! I know you better than anyone else, and I know when you're lying!"

His venom shocks me, but I suppose I deserve that, continuing on with my tirade in an effort to get him to leave, my heart already agonized at the thought of him returning to Charlie to complain about me.

"You think I'm lying? Then fine! Think that! But if I am ignoring you, it's none of your business why! So just drop it and go!" I snap back at him, pointing at the door as I take a step closer.

"I'm not going until you tell me why you're avoiding me, and why you felt the need to lie to me!" He argues back, expression betraying the hurt he is feeling, the sight of it tugging at my heartstrings painfully.

"Why do I need to tell you? It's none of your business!" My voice is nearly fully raised now, my cheeks flushed from humiliation and frustration. Why can't he just leave it alone?

"Because I'm your friend, and I care! If you just start randomly ignoring me, then I'd at least like to know why!" Unfortunately, he has a point, but his use of the word "friend" is like an arrow straight to the heart.

"Well, I don't want to tell you, so just go back to Charlie and leave me alone!" I blurt out, stopping in my tracks when I realise what I said, Maverick clearly realising this, too.

"That's what this is about? Me and Charlie?" He sounds exasperated, which only fuels my anger.

"Of course it's not! I don't care who you're in a relationship with, it's not like I like you like that anyway..." my voice trails off as I once again figure out exactly what I've said, only now realising how close we are, our faces mere inches apart.

My pulse races in my ears as he stays silent, a variety of emotions flashing over his face as he takes in what's been said, the tension between us growing as we breathe in unison, breaths heavy and loud in the quiet. My jaw clenches briefly, before I feel myself being pulled forwards, soft lips suddenly connecting with mine in a searing kiss. Surprised at firstñ ibstary to hesitate, only to reciprocate seconds later, my hands instantly coming up to grip at his hair, pulling him impossibly closer as his move from the back of my neck to cup my cheeks, his lips moving quickly with mine.

As we pull away, gasping for air, confusion wells up in me, as well as a dull sense of horror at the thought of kissing a taken man, even if he initiated it. His fingers lightly stroke my cheeks, eyes look in appreciatively over my face as I release his hair, my hands moving to his chest.

"What about you and Charlie?" I manage out in between breaths, still reeling from being kissed.

A low chuckle escapes him, the sound resonating in his chest under my hands, his crooked smile creeping onto his face.

"Charlie and I aren't together, we never were. I just needed some advice on something from her." He reassures me, stroking back my hair lovingly.

"Advice? On what?"

"How to finally tell you I like you." Maverick grins as he presses another, more gentle kiss to my lips, "I didn't realise that an argument was the way to go."

I giggle at his joke, slapping his chest, playfully.

"I never knew you felt the same way. If I had, I'd have initiated the argument much earlier." He continues, laughing at the crimson blush dusting my cheeks.

"Shut up." I grin, looking away.

Smirking, he leans down to press a kiss just below my ear, before whispering quietly to me.

"Make me."

[fific7]

Dangerous and Divine - Part 11

Billy Russo x Reader

Summary: Billy Russo is an itch you don’t want to scratch. But he’s all over you like a rash.

A/N: This does not follow canon, it’s mainly fluff & lemon zest 🍋 The GIF is from Exposed, unreleased pilot show in case you’re wondering 😌... Billy vibes.

Warnings: 18+ NSFW due to sexual content including oral and unprotected* sex between consenting adults. Some voyeurism. Some drinking & swearing.

*Irl, please don’t go wild in the country without protection.

(My GIF)

Wanting to turn round and get the hell out of there, Madani found herself rooted to the spot. It was like car crash TV... she just couldn’t bring herself to look away. So, she stood there and just watched.

She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, she just stared at the scene in front of her. The room door was at her back and she went along with it involuntarily as it swung closed behind her. Coming to rest against it, she drew in a long breath.

Her eyes were glued to that damn cute ass of Billy’s. Watching it... relentlessly, hypnotically moving up and down, up and down, up and down. Listened to his breathy moans and low grunts as he pounded in and out of her. Uhh, uhh, unnhhh, unnhhh. Caught glimpses of his balls between his legs, snapping backwards with each thrust. A sheen of sweat visible across his shoulders and back. Saw one hand making its way down to where their bodies were joined, his other running gently along her thigh.

Her! she thought venomously. It should be me... he should be on top of me in that bed!

But still she watched. And watched. It was really dim in the room, and she realised the curtains were almost fully closed. She found herself craning her neck forward slightly to get a better look.

She watched as he kept on thrusting, then she noticed the muscles in his ass eventually tense up. Another three or four shorter thrusts, then she heard Billy cry out. Heard him breathe her name, saw him lowering his head to rest on her shoulder for a moment before bringing it up to her face; she just knew he was kissing her now. “I love you,” Madani heard him say, and more kisses followed.

The breath she’d taken in left her lips in a long hiss. This was just so not fucking fair!

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You reached up off the pillows to kiss Billy’s beardy chin above you, but a sudden movement near the door caught your eye. You let out a small shriek as you saw a shadowy figure standing there and Billy leaned back immediately, looking at you anxiously. You pointed towards the door and his head shot round in that direction. A snarl appeared on his lips and he roughly grabbed the bedcovers, quickly pulling them over the two of you. He leaned up on his elbows, looking over his shoulder at the intruder.

“Madani!!!” he yelled, “You... you fuckin’.... Get the fuck outta here!!!”

You heard the door slam, and raised your face from where you’d hidden it against Billy’s chest. You hadn’t been able to make out who it was in the low light. “That was her?” you asked him, and he nodded, throwing back the covers and sitting up against the pillows, running both hands through his wayward hair. “Yeah,” he replied, “yeah, it fuckin’ was. That crazy fucking bitch.”

You also sat up, bringing the sheet across you and under one arm, “What the hell was she doing in your room, Billy?” You were glaring at him, and he quickly put his hand on your cheek, “I have no idea, angel... truly I don’t. Please don’t be thinkin’ this was some kinda hookup, cos it wasn’t! I’m gonna fuckin’ strangle her.... urrrhhhh!!” You could see that he was absolutely furious.

Reassured, you softened your gaze. He carried on, “We’re not due to meet up with her for another half hour. She musta been given a pass key and for whatever reason, came chargin’ in here.”

You ran your fingers up through his hair, sweeping it back from his forehead, “Billy, I swear I’m gonna nail Agent Madani’s ass to the wall when all this is done!”

“You and me both, sweetheart,” Billy said grimly.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy had got up and showered (with you) after that, then he’d unpacked his black tactical suit and got into it. While you were busy admiring how he looked in it - like, really damn sexy - after a long and passionate kiss, he’d left you in the room, telling you to doublelock the door and not to open it for anyone except him.

You’d been made to promise on the lives of everyone you held dear that you’d stay there, until he got back. He didn’t know exactly when that would be, which you had to admit pissed you off a bit but you understood he couldn’t give you a precise time and why. It’s just you didn’t like the thought of being cooped up in the room all day.

Oh well, you had the TV, the movie channels, the mini bar... and room service. Your eyes lit up. Room service!!

Eager to get ordering, you started looking for the menu in the pile of hotel stuff on the funky reclaimed wooden desk, which was underneath a huge ornate mirror. You caught sight of yourself in it as you did so. Ohh... okay, you’d better lose the “I’ve Just Been Fucked Senseless” look before the room service guy arrived, otherwise you might just give him the fright of his life.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Dinah Madani had stumbled out of Billy’s room, letting the door slam behind her. She took off along the corridor at a cracking pace, face flaming red, heading for the fire exit stairs. She smoothed down the fabric of her jacket with her hands, then ran them down onto her trousers, trying to calm her breathing as she went.

She replayed the vision of Billy’s naked body in her mind, of him having sex, blocking out the inconvenient fact that he’d been in bed with someone else.

Damn, she was aroused. She could feel how damp her panties were as she walked. How was she supposed to get the handsome big bastard out of her head now, after seeing that display? In her head, she transposed herself into that bed, underneath him. She could almost feel him inside her.

And every time she looked at him from now on? Yes - she was going to be imagining him naked. And it wouldn’t be to give herself more self-confidence in front of a bunch of people, like they taught you to do in those self-help courses.

As she started making her way down the stairs, she mentally shook herself - she’d better get her head back in the game or this could all go horribly wrong.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy had taken the same route down a couple of floors to the room being used as the base of operations. He was still fuming about Dinah’s little voyeuristic visit to his room. What the fuck was she thinking, coming into his room unannounced? If he hadn’t been otherwise engaged he could’ve shot her! And just how long had she been standing there, watching him make love to his girl?

Weird bitch, he thought, but I’ll settle the score with her once this is all over.

He knocked once on the door, saw an eye appear in the spyhole and then the door opened. Frank and the rest of the Anvil team were already there, along with Madani and her Homeland agents. He glared at Madani but she wouldn’t meet his eyes.

Frank winked and grinned at him, fully aware of the ‘operation’ Billy had been on prior to arriving. Wait till he told him about Madani’s latest little stunt!

They got down to business, running through the details of the op and all the ‘what if’s’ and Plan A, Plan B, Plan C scenarios once again. Everyone was given their positions, tasked with certain duties, told to make sure their earpieces were in and working. The two teams started leaving the room and dispersing to their designated locations. The undercover agent remained to get a further briefing from Billy, Frank and Madani, then he too left to go to his room where the meet would take place.

That left the three of them, plus the Homeland agents who’d be monitoring all the comms and security cameras. Billy marched right up to Madani, towering over her and glaring so furiously at her that it was a wonder she didn’t catch on fire. In a very low voice that only the three of them could hear, he bit out, “I’m sayin’ nothing right now about what happened earlier, Dinah - we need to be totally focused on this fuckin’ op - but we’re gonna be having a conversation about it at some point.”

He caught sight of Frank’s puzzled face but just gave him a small shake of the head. “Right,” he said, “c’mon Frankie, let’s go and check the perimeters.”

The two of them left, leaving Madani to pace the room and watch the CCTV screens over the shoulders of her agents. She hadn’t said a word directly to Billy or looked him in the eye during the entire briefing.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy strode along the corridor so quickly that Frank had to really hurry to catch him up. “Hey, Bill! What’s up with you and Madani now?” Billy shook his head, “Dunno that I should talk about it, Frankie, I’m still fuckin’ furious with her, and I really gotta concentrate on all this shit that’s goin’ down today.” They reached the stairs, Billy opening the fire door and they started down the steps.

Frank grabbed his arm and they both stopped walking. “Don’t forget I know you better’n you know yourself, Russo. If you don’t get this off ya chest, you’re gonna explode. And that ain’t what we need right now.”

Billy leaned his back against the wall and sighed, “Yeah, you’re right.” He broke eye contact with Frank, saying, “She’s got a master key for the rooms.” Frank said warily, “Yeah, I know she does... and?”

“Came crashin’ into our room, when I was... we were...” Frank’s eyes got huge, “havin’ sex. Stood there for fuck knows how long watchin’ us, till we finally noticed her after... after we finished, an’ I yelled at her to get out.”

“For fuck’s sake!” Frank said through gritted teeth, “What the fuck’s wrong with that woman?!”

Shaking his head, Billy shrugged, “I dunno, Frank. She’s got issues, that’s for sure.” He turned and started down the stairs again, “C’mon, let’s get this shitshow on the road.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You’d ended up having the most pleasant day to yourself. Leisurely soak in the spa bath, several room service orders (repairs having been carried out before the waiter’s first visit), several little trips to and from the mini-bar for G&T’s. You’d finished the gin now, and had moved on to vodka & coke. Not your favourite but beggars, choosers etc.

You’d been on one of the big movie channels, and so far you were three fantasy films, two rom-coms and a heist movie into their list. In fact you’d started drifting off to sleep as you got towards the end of the heist movie, and made yourself sit up to make sure you didn’t doze off. You gazed back at the massive wall-mounted TV and tried to pick up whereabouts you were in the plot. Oh right - bank robbery.

The bad guys ran into the bank, firing shots into the air and getting everyone to lie down on the floor. But there was that one hero security guard, who drew his gun and tried to shoot the bad guy gang leader. Cue good guy getting shot, up rolls a police armed response unit, cue gun battle, various dead good and bad guys, oh and here’s the car chase as a couple of baddies got away.

Hey hang on, the gun battle’s still going on, but neither the cops or the bad guys are shooting at each other as they’re too busy doing handbrake turns and screeching round corners.

It dawned on you the gunfire you could hear was in your freaking hotel. Leaping up and zipping over to the window, you saw various black SUV’s parked randomly in the middle of the street, blue lights flashing and doors wide open, but apart from crowds of the general public running for cover, there was no-one in sight round the big cars.

You could still hear the rattle of gunfire, and then all of a sudden it went eerily quiet.

Breathing unsteadily, you had a nasty feeling in the pit of your stomach and your hand wavered towards the doorhandle. The temptation to open it was huge. ‘No!’ screeched the sensible part of your brain, ‘for just once in your life.... Do. What. You’re. Told.” Your hand went back to your side. Okay, you win, you told your brain glumly.

You walked back over and sat on the bed, ended the movie - the bad guys were probably either A) going to get away or B) get caught - so you could live without seeing the end of it. Starting to flick through the programme guide, you finally found a news channel, but they had nothing about the hotel or ‘shots fired’.

So you spent the next thirty minutes sitting on the bed for 3 minutes then getting up and pacing, then sitting on the bed again for another 3 minutes, then pacing again... hit the repeat button on that scenario until there was a big knock at the door.

You headed over to the door but didn’t put your eye to the peephole, having seen a film once where someone got shot in the eye that way. Yes, you did watch a lot of movies, what of it! So you just called out, standing to one side, so you wouldn’t get shot through the door either (yes, yes, saw that in the movies too), “Who’s that?!”

Billy’s voice said, “It’s me, sweetheart. Can you let me in? And don’t get upset but I got grazed a coupla times by bullets so I’m bleedin’ quite a bit.”

Don’t get upset? you thought, he’s gotta be joking hasn’t he? You hastily unlocked and pulled open the door, and you saw a very pale-faced Billy leaning on the doorframe, blood on his face and on one of his arms. You could see ripped fabric on the sleeve of his tactical suit where the blood was coming from.

“Oh, Billy,” you said, worried, dragging him into the room and slamming the door closed.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

@blackbirddaredevil23 @galaxyjane @omgrachwrites @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead

[hunnybadgerv]

Punching Above Your Weight | The Wayhaven Chronicles | Det. Joel Lange x Adam du Mortain

Summary: Joel loves a good fight, almost as much as he loves a good grind.

a/n: Okay, so I saw a gif. And this character said he really needed this to happen. NSFT

Read on AO3

Punching Above Your Weight

In his mind, the music was Joel’s advantage. It didn’t matter that Adam had supernatural strength or speed, not when the detective had footwork that could rival James Brown. He smirked from behind his wrapped knuckles and bounced lithely on the balls of his feet.

When Adam swung wide, Joel ducked under the whirling right hook and jabbed the unit commander in the kidney. Joel didn’t pull his punches, not with any of Unit Bravo. It wasn’t like sparring with anyone else. And in the moment it never dawned on him that the 900-year-old vampire might just be toying with him. Joel’s ego wouldn’t allow that thought to enter his mind, even when Adam just chuckled in response to the punch the detective had thrown.

The detective kept his hands up and bobbed one way before weaving another way. Of course, it wasn’t exactly easy to keep his mind on the fight, not with that light sheen of sweat glistening over Adam’s broad bare shoulders. Joel gave his own cheek a quick slap and shook his head.

Nope. No distractions.Even if the next time he danced around Adam, his eyes followed the curve of the thick muscles in his back, the ones that edged his spine like the walls of a canyon.

The elbow to the jaw, brought Joel back to his senses. It made him reel back a step or two. Adam snatched out and grabbed Joel by the forearm, pulling him against his firm chest. Fucking sturdy bastard, Joel thought as he focused on those light green eyes. His jaw tightened and he swallowed the lump trying to form in his throat.

“Good?”

“Of course,” Joel replied as if he hadn’t seen any stars at all from the hit.

Adam smirked at him knowingly, and gave his head a shake.

“You?” the taller man asked. It might only be about an inch and a half, but it was an inch and a half, and Joel lorded in it.

The laughter made the vampire’s eyes sparkle. “Yeah.”

“Not even a little winded are you?”

The smile widened. “Not even a little.”

“Fucking vampires. I swear.” Joel reached out and slipped his hand behind Adam’s neck, bringing their foreheads together. “I know how to make you breathless.” Before the vampire could answer, Joel fitted his lips against Adam’s.

With the permission of a deepening kiss, Adam slipped his arm around Joel’s trim waist and pulled him against his chest. Then his hand dropped a hair and fisted in the loose cloth of Joel’s sweatpants, right there at the small of his back. The detective didn’t know why Adam’s hand right there put him in a tither, but the barest weight of Adam’s hand at the small of his back went right to Joel’s head, and his libido.

As if answering an unasked question, Joel pressed his hips against Adam’s. Adam stood solid, immovable, which just spurred Joel onward. He couldn’t help but groan when Adam sighed into his mouth.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “Do it again.”

Playing the brat was rare for Adam, but he stared right into Joel’s icy blue eyes when he replied, “Make me.”

That taunt bolted right to the center of Joel’s soul. A hum hung in his chest as he put a little space between them, enough to tug his shirt off by the neck in one smooth stroke. He swiped his forehead, biting his bottom lip as he moved toward Adam, who mirrored every step. It kept the minimum of distance between them. Gave them both the chance to let their eyes rake over the other’s body. Joel, always one to put his best foot forward, couldn’t help but flex when he noticed Adam’s gaze burn across his arms, then his chest. He’d make the prettiest damn picture Adam could imagine at any given moment.

When those jade green eyes flicked downward, so did one of the detective’s hands. His arousal was completely obvious, but he decided to accentuate any way.

“See something you like?” the detective asked with a smirk.

Adam didn’t say anything. Just moved toward him. In a flash, Joel found his back on the mat and Adam looming over him with his body just barely close enough for the human to sense the feeling of his skin.

Joel let his fingertips do the dancing this time, tickling and teasing light touches over Adam’s rips and his stomach. Then he pressed his hand flat against the front of the vampire’s combat trousers. That stoic hover collapsed when Adam kissed him. He wrapped his other arm around Adam’s back and held him close. Leaving his other hand in place, he stroked at Adam’s thickening cock.

“Fucking want you,” Joel mumbled into his lover’s mouth.

Adam just grumbled something incoherent.

The detective didn’t even care that they were laid out in the middle of the gym. When he shifted his weight, Adam went with him. Sex had become a dance they both knew the steps of, how to lead and follow. Joel grabbed Adam’s hand and leaned over him, grinding his hips against him. He loved that look on Adam, blushing on his broad shoulders and his bottom lip between his teeth.

He couldn’t resist it. He needed to taste that lip, needed to get his own bite. Joel dove for it, and Adam knotted his fingers in Joel’s white blonde hair. Low moans echoed in the curve of Joel’s neck and off the hard surfaces of the gym. They moved against one another like frenzied teenagers on their parent’s basement sofa. When Adam, shifted beneath him, parting his legs, Joel knew the man was close.

It just spurred Joel onward. He needed this, needed to be the reason Adam came apart. So damned put together and in charge, except for right then. Sweat glistened on that stoic brow. Piercing green eyes with pupils blown wide with need. His strong hands held against the mat and laced in Joel’s.

Adam always tried to keep it quiet. Reserved. But Joel didn’t want him all composed. He dropped his head and sucked a hard kiss against Adam’s neck. A smile crossed his lips with the shiver beneath him. Working his hips against Adam’s, he turned towards the collarbone this time. His teeth scraped over the thin skin there, and Adam let go of a wanton groan.

One hand raised a few inches, before Adam let Joel pin him back down. The detective leaned over him, staring down into those green eyes that didn’t move from his own. A quick lick at his bottom lip gave way to a sultry smirk of realization. Adam wanted him to watch, wanted to make a spectacle for Joel.

“You’re gorgeous,” he groaned. He was close too, but he wasn’t going to stop before Adam shattered. “Show me. Show me how good it feels.” His voice, thick with need, came out gentle and encouraging. Joel would happily be the agent’s audience if that’s what he wanted, what he needed.

Adam’s eyes slipped closed for a second.

“Damn I want to see you.” His hands flexed in Adam’s. “You want me to see you?”

The sharp curt nod from Adam pulled a low moan from Joel.

Fuck. He breathed hard, no way was he going to take his eyes off this. “I got you,” Joel swore. He meant it; right then and there, and everywhere else. It was as close as he’d been able to get to the words that captured just what he felt for Adam.

Maybe the vampire knew the real meaning, maybe he didn’t. But it seemed to be exactly what he needed in the moment. Adam’s body tensed beneath him, the tightness flexed in his jaw. Joel leaned closer to Adam, the tip of his nose brushing against his. When the deep moan shook through the room, Joel pressed a kiss to Adam’s raised chin. In the next moment, their lips met with the muffled clack of teeth. Neither of them took much notice of the quick painful jolt, instead they dove into the kiss.

Joel ground against Adam as his hips twitched with his release. The closer he got, the more he needed to touch him. One of Joel’s hands held the side of Adam’s neck as his tongue thrust into his mouth. Encouraging the detective, Adam grabbed his ass and squeezed.

“Adam,” he growled, pulling back from the kiss only to press his forehead against his lover’s. His eyes slipped closed against his will as his hips snapped forwards with pulse of his orgasm.

His chest heaved as he blinked his eyes open to find Adam staring back at him. I could get used to this, Joel thought. A goofy smile played across his lips, then parted in a groan when Adam’s hand tightened on the back of his neck. It was a comforting sensation, one that sent a tingle down his spine.

“At least I winded you,” Joel chided, his own breathing heavy.

Adam laughed. “That you did.”

Joel would take it. His tiny victory for the afternoon. Holding Adam’s cheeks in his hands, he kissed him—soft and slow. Cool hands pressed up the length of his bare back before tickling back down to the waistband of his sweats.

Eventually, their kisses slowed and Joel rolled onto his back next to Adam. When the stoic man sat up, Joel let his eyes shift over Adam.

“Um. Next time we spar, you might want to wear the black trousers,” he said, wholly unable to hold back a wide grin.

Adam’s gaze shot to the front of his pants with a laugh of his own.

Joel folded his hands behind his head and gave Adam a cocky grin. “Though I’m pretty sure the whole house knows whose at fault.”

The blush that raced across Adam’s cheeks and ears was too damn adorable. Joel sat up. “Want mine?” he asked with a upward tick of his eyebrows.

“Not sure which is worse. Walking through the halls with this or you walking the halls butt naked.”

“Now, see,” Joel closed the distance between them, letting his nose tease against Adam’s. “What you should have said is that was the best option you could imagine.”

Adam kissed him hard. “I knew you were trouble the first time we met.”

“You’re not wrong. Question remains.” Joel licked his lips and grinned at Adam. “Do you want to get into my pants, Commanding Agent du Mortain.”

“Incorrigible.”

“Such a strange way to pronounce chivalrous. Must be the accent.” Joel hopped to his feet and stood there looking down at Adam as he tucked his thumbs in his waistband, which inched it a little lower on his hips.

Adam made an almost convincing play at wincing. “Should probably keep those on. I don’t know if I could resist the temptation.”

“Why for?” Joel stepped closer, letting his fingers twirl at the tips of his short blonde hair. “I’m always a sure thing for you.”

“I swear, Joel.”

“Eventually, you will.”

Adam was on his feet in a heartbeat. He grabbed Joel’s neck and sealed his lips against the detective’s. That suddenly became his newest goal—getting Adam to loosen his tongue in bed. Joel was near damn certain he’d probably orgasm on the spot if he ever heard Adam moan ‘fuck’ in that needy way he did when he was on the edge.

“I need a shower,” Joel said as they parted. The invitation laced into every word in that statement. Adam just gave him a nod, then Joel moved to grab his shirt.

[my-whumpy-little-heart]

Persistence - 1

Hey all! This is the start of a series featuring some pirate characters I played around with back during Whumptober, but with a lot more personality and a lot more plot. It got a little long so I put a cut, but I hope you guys enjoy it.

Series Masterlist

Content warnings: sword fighting, creepy/intimate whumper, and threats of death.

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A shrill whistle took the crew of The Thief’s Halyard by surprise, everyone on deck pausing their work to stare up at the crow’s nest.

“Ship on the horizon! It may be pursuing us. Be prepared for any further instruction!” the lookout shouted, eliciting a chorus of groans. They were already wilting under the harsh sunlight and scorching heat of summer. Imminent danger would just be the cherry drowning in their melted sundae.

One man in particular, though, smiled through the announcement, seemingly taking delight in the possible threat approaching. He turned to everyone else as they slumped and sulked, puffing out his chest in a dramatic display of confidence. 

“Come on, everyone! No use grumbling and groaning; this is exciting! When’s the last time we even caught wind of other human life?” His bravado was almost painful to hear.

“It’s only been about two weeks, captain.” a younger man noted with clear confusion. He got a few knowing stares from the others around him. That was one way to indicate he was new around there in case anybody missed the memo.

“Exactly! So long!” he insisted, “And calling me Ray is fine, I promise. No need for fancy titles.” Ray clapped him on the back just a little too forcefully, pushing a nervous laugh and nod from him. As the newer crew member walked unsteadily back to his post and Ray climbed to the next level of the deck where he’d been working earlier, the quartermaster came up beside him. 

“Hey,” she laid a hand on his shoulder, speaking softly, “cool it on the positivity campaign, would you? I love the attitude, don’t get me wrong, but nobody’s buying it right now.”

“What else am I supposed to do, Mabel? You know as well as I do it’s not easy to keep spirits up when we’re all on the brink of passing out,” he sighed.

“Tear out the root of the problem then,” Mabel shrugged, crossing her arms. “Maybe rotate people out for breaks? It might make work harder, especially with that ship on our tail, but better to get them out of the sun than do nothing at all.”

“Ah, yeah... that sounds like our best bet, actually,” Ray nodded. “I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you some days,” he smiled sheepishly, running a hand through his hair.

“Most likely perish, sir,” Mabel remarked, earning a gentle shove from the captain as he strolled by, reaching back to take her hand and lead her up to the guardrail fencing off this higher portion of the deck. He raised their hands with a grandiose clearing of the throat.

“Alright, change of plans! I want the four of you,” he drew a circle in the air with his hand around a group standing off to the side, “to head into your quarters and get some rest. Everyone else will cover your positions, and every quarter hour we’ll rotate out four others, so on and so forth.”

Sighs of relief followed three of them in the door, but one redhead lingered behind, leaning his full weight against the cabin wall.

“Floyd!” Ray waved, climbing down the ladder to land next to him. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Thought I’d offer to stay and help if you need anyone. I can go a little longer, and someone else probably needs a break more than I do.” Ray eyed Floyd warily, looking him over for signs of exhaustion. He was a very slight man and it was a wonder he’d lasted even this long in the heat. A sheen of sweat coated his skin, and his light, mossy blue eyes looked a little unfocused, but... Floyd could handle himself. He’d have his turn in the rotation soon enough anyway.

“As long as you wish to, then.” He conceded. Ray observed the workers still at their posts, hollering over to a woman already stumbling over her own feet. “Clara!” Her head snapped up at the voice, sweaty hair plastered to her face. “Head inside and rest; Floyd can take your place for now.”

Relief washed over her and she thanked Ray hastily before making a beeline for the cabins. Floyd crossed the deck, picking up her work with no hesitation. For a while, things were more or less peaceful. Ray was about to signal for the rotation when another whistle and shout rang out from the lookout.

“That ship I saw...” she swallowed, voice fading out for a moment. “If I’m not mistaken, we’re currently being tailed by the Golden Felucca. And they’re gaining on us.”

“Oh...shit,” Ray muttered. That ship and its crew had done nothing but trouble them for nearly a year. Each subsequent encounter only wore Ray down further, and he shivered at the memory of the most recent one just a month earlier.

He stole a glance at Floyd, going strong like that attack had never happened. Like they hadn’t nearly lost him. Ray shuddered. Why him, of all people? The train of thought, though he’d had it so many times before, hurt too much to continue. 

Ray took a few breaths to steady himself, wipe the sweat from his forehead, and pull his dark, curly hair back into a low knot. No use dwelling on it now. Not when everyone needed him. 

Most who heard the announcement was already gearing up for conflict, and a tense feeling gripped the deck. 

“You heard her,” Ray called out, half exasperated, half determined, “Prepare to engage; expect a fight. I’m gonna need three with me on cannons but don’t fire if they're close. We’re gonna need the ones on break to guard.” 

He adjusted the sword belt around his waist and strode to the starboard side of the ship where the Golden Felucca was gaining on them far too quickly. 

As he worked on readying the cannons, those who had been sent down just minutes before trudged up from below deck. Despite the smaller vessel it was named after, the large ship really was a sight to behold. Nervous chattering echoed across the deck, one person even making a remark about the opposing captain, how some called him the Serpent. Mabel overheard and shook her head.

“Oh my Gods, please don’t flatter him,” she said, unable to hold back a derisive snort of laughter. “Percival is just as human as the rest of us. The minute you buy into his fantasy is the minute we lose this battle. Got it?” A shaky nod answered, and the conversation was cut short by their pursuers’ ship pulling up close alongside their own. Their opposing sides were nearly mere meters away from touching. Far too close to even consider using cannons without endangering themselves as well. 

The Golden Felucca floated a little higher on the water, giving the opposing pirates an immediate advantage. They stood with swords drawn, and it would have been a mirror image of The Thief’s Halyard had Percival been anywhere in sight. Of course they’d come to expect cowardice from the other captain after so long, but it was always unsettling to see a crew set loose without the support of their leader at the head. 

For a quiet, peaceful, moment, the two opposing forces locked eyes. 

Then one man leapt across the gap down to The Thief’s Halyard and the others followed all at once, flying into the fray of battle. Ray, Mabel, and a few others who’d given up on readying cannons surged up to meet them, swords clashing and shouts raising. Others fell back near the walls to guard precious resources and money. 

Floyd watched on from the background, holding his own sword in a careful grip. He looked for weaknesses in the enemy, hoping to join in and assist instead of fighting alone, but one opponent broke through the wall of combatants and charged straight for him. On instinct, he fell back on the defensive. 

Aggressive blows fell short as Floyd dodged them, landing in a loose fighting stance. He parried the swings that came next and lunged forward when his opponent relented, attempting to drive him back into the fray. Light footwork kept him balanced as they traded attacks, but the heavy strikes crashing down wore at his defense. 

He tried to keep up the pace as his vision tunneled. A strike nicked his hand, another grazed his arm, and nobody else seemed to take notice of his struggle. Floyd needed to find a window of vulnerability soon and end this.

He stepped back to avoid a slash, almost tripping over himself in an effort to get away when he saw his opportunity. His opponent seemed distracted, eye caught on something behind Floyd, and he took his chance. The redhead surged forward with a shout and thrust out his sword arm.

The blade should’ve hit its mark, buried itself in their side, and sent his weakened foe to their knees. And it would have, had he not stopped inches short, momentum suddenly halted and thrown backward by a strong grip on his wrist. Floyd fell off balance, his instinctive cry crushed to silence when his body slammed full force against a wall, knocking the breath from his chest. His vision swam and his hands pushed weakly against the wood, but a firm pressure on his shoulder and sternum kept him pinned. Heaving breaths couldn’t quite fill his lungs. Belatedly, over the ringing in his ears, he realized someone was speaking to him.

“...breathe, dear. Come on... yes, that’s it. Now look at me. I said look at me…” 

There was a man in front of him. There was a man with an eerily familiar voice and a sword pressed dangerously close to his heart that took the breath from him all over again. The tanned hand holding his shoulder released and lifted his chin in a gentle grip. A reminder as Floyd finally registered the command. His eyes raised slowly to meet the man’s and he was pinned to the spot. 

Amber eyes burned even in the shadows, a stunning, terrifying, captivating window into the depths of Hell. A few loose strands of dark, sandy hair framed them.

Percival, his mind supplied through shock and fear. Of course. He’d seen the man at a distance before, heard his voice through the haze of a dream. In some way, meeting him was familiar. 

The sword splitting skin on his chest snapped him back to reality.

“Please,” Floyd begged breathlessly in a voice so quiet he almost couldn’t hear himself, “p-please I, I can't, I'm not, I’m not ready to, to-”

“Oh, nobody ever is, are they?” The blade’s pressure let up, traced his shirt over to his right shoulder. His heart hammered as he looked helplessly back into Percival’s eyes. “Come on, don’t waste your words. If you think you can change my mind, then do so, and quickly.” 

There wasn’t enough time to think before the molten lava behind his pupils hardened and a line of pain lanced down Floyd’s arm. He couldn’t speak past the airy keen rushing out of his chest, but the blade tainted with his blood moved back over and somehow he forced the sound to stop, his lungs to breathe, and his lips to speak. 

“I’m- please, Percival-” Floyd choked out the name, his voice cracking miserably with repressed tears, cheeks burning with humiliation. He hated the words itching to spill, but he had nothing else to offer. “I’ll do anything, I promise. I can- I can be u-useful, whatever you need I can- I’ll- just please don’t kill me!”

The horrible heat of shame flashed through him and nearly sent him to his knees, but it made Percival pause. He looked Floyd up and down, inclining his head in what may have been a confidential nod. 

Had he done it? Had he appeased Percival? 

The air stilled around the two, and the battle still raging faded away into white noise. 

He didn’t even see the fist fly through the air before it crashed into his jaw, knocking him to the ground as his vision faded to black. The other man may have said something, then, but he could only hear the ringing in his ears before that left him, too.

————————————

Next

[ladye11e]

Deception pt 29

The conflict between the Assassins and the Templars is getting out of hand. Lies, deceit and subterfuge, now you must pick a side...

Tagging @geekgoddess813 @sweet-flash @ermergerd517 @i-wontgivein @imakemyownblog 💕

If anyone else would like a tag, shoot me a dm 😁

Link to the full fic so far is Here.

Your eyes fluttered open and you wiped the sheen of sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand as you sat up steadily, taking several deep breaths to slow the pounding in your chest, as it was beating as if you had just run a marathon.

Glancing around as you tried to push the disturbing images of Achilles' face when he realised you were a traitor out of your mind, you only just noticed that you were alone in the bed. Shuffling out to peek through the curtains and seeing it was still dark outside, you grabbed the dressing gown off the back of the door and plodded out in search of Shay. You spotted him quickly with his back to you at the dining table; engrossed in typing something, so you leant over and kissed him on the cheek, before sitting on the edge of the table next to where he was working.

"There you are. Feeling better?"

"Mmm, much. What are you still doing up?!"

"Still? It's ten o'clock." He stated, weaving his arms around your waist and pulling you into his lap.

"Ten? Two whole hours sleep, great."

"No lass, ten on Monday. You've been passed out for over a day."

Your eyes widened as you grabbed his laptop and turned it to you, double checking what he had said as you had never slept for that long in your life. Looking around furiously when it finally sunk in, you went to jump up as your gaze finally landed on your bag, but Shays tightening grip around your middle prevented you from doing so. Cocking your head when he reached around his computer and fumbled about, you took your phone off him slowly when he handed it to you, extremely confused as to why a horde of assassins wasn't banging down the door right now.

"Guessing you're lookin' for this? Gist came over this morning and hacked into the chip, it's turned off now an ya don't need to put in that code. Should be glad I didn't throw it out the window, it's been going off non-stop."

Quickly unlocking it with your thumbprint, you dismissed the seven calls and flicked through the eighteen messages that were on there, grimacing when they were all from Jacob complaining about how Connor was being mean to him, making him exercise and eat green tree things with his dinner, and you needed to get him the hell out of there. You breathed a sigh of relief when you listened to the only voicemail you had, of Altäir sending a mass call to everyone saying that due to the circumstances everyone was allowed two days off to grieve and, were expected back in on Wednesday.

"Hmm, sorry about that. Most of it wasn't even important."

"I was only joking." He chuckled, pulling you down to kiss you gently. "Oh, I forgot to thank you yesterday, for gettin' the boss to give the room back. What did you do to get him to change his mind?"

Flicking through your phone one more time to use it as a distraction while you came up with a good excuse, you tossed it on the table and draped your arms over his shoulders, hoping you had come up with something believable, but would also give you a chance to pry slightly. You didn't want to lie, you even hated yourself for it, but it was better than the alternative.

"Nothing much, just made him realise he was being a complete idiot. Although..."

"Although..??"

Trailing off and furrowing your brow, you scratched your cheek as you contemplated how to word it, without dropping yourself into a spiralling fib.

"I don't know really. I've got the feeling he's hiding something, to use against me if I pissed him off again... I'm not sure though."

"He threatened you?!"

You winced when his arms tightened around you, gritting his teeth and tensing up as if he wanted to run over there and burn the whole building down to the ground.

"Calm down. Not as such, but he heavily suggested that there would be consequences if I made him look like a fool again?"

"I knew it..." He grumbled under his breath, shifting you slightly to the left on his lap so he could pull his computer back in front of him.

"Know what?!"

"Right, promise me you won't get mad."

You looked at him pointedly, as if to say 'well, duh' as he clicked on something several times, which brought up numerous schematics of Templar headquarters, and a particular one of which you slightly recognised as Haythams work office.

"You know what I mean. Remember that pin you wore for our first mission? Well, I had a gut feelin' that I wasn't the only one watching. Then he confirmed my suspicions when he asked me about that drawing you did, before I'd even mentioned it."

Rolling your tongue in your cheek as you could see where this was going, you zoned out; now thinking that more than just Haythams eyeballs would look good on a stick, snapping out of your revengeful plotting and sighing when you realised Shay was still talking.

"When I confronted him about it, he said that the feed went to his computer too so he could have a look for anything that could help us, but it was deleted. I'm sure he recorded it though, cos he keeps bringin' up little details that no one would have noticed unless they watched it more than once. I didn't know, I swear to ya."

"Son of a bitch... Details such as?"

The corner of your mouth curled up when he shuffled about and lowered his gaze to your lap, his cheeks taking on a pinkish hue when you booped his nose playfully, making you wonder why he kept getting flustered so quickly recently.

"Aww, you're cute when you're embarrassed. Okay, you don't have to say. But why didn't you tell me about it before now??"

"Cute?! Thanks, I think?" He mumbled, which made your eyes roll and a chuckle erupt. "Didn't say anything because I've got no proof. It's what I've been workin' on the past few days."

Now paying more attention to the screen when he pointed at it, you saw that it wasn't only the floorplans were there, but all of the internal ducting, emergency exits and lifts were highlighted too.

"If he has got anything, it'll be on his work computer, not his personal one upstairs because he was in the middle of that bloody merger thing when all that was happening, and he never left the place. You up for another bit of larceny together lass?"

You grinned wickedly and pulled him to you by the collar of his shirt, kissing him firmly before shuffling around on his knee, so your back was up against his chest.

"Stupid question... So, what's the plan?"

Spending all of the evening formulating a way in and out of Haythams office, you had finally come up with a strategy, and were now stood across the street from Templar headquarters at eight fifteen in the morning. Checking your reflection once more in your compact mirror, you were satisfied enough that even your own mother wouldn't be able to recognise you. You had reached out to one of your contacts Mary Read; who was an expert in disguises, and after being under her skilled hands for several hours, you were now adorning a full latex mask and a somewhat itchy wig, drastically changing your appearance. Knowing that she would have no idea who Shay was, you took him with you (even though he was rather surly about having to wear 'makeup') but as it had taken longer to get him done than yourself and had to leave to finalise a few details, you didn't have a clue what he looked like right now.

Fiddling with your choker that concealed a voice synthesiser as it felt like you were being strangled, you didn't notice that someone was stood behind you until you felt a hand cup your ass. Spinning around quickly and getting ready to punch whoever it was, you suddenly dropped your arm when you looked into the stranger's eyes, recognising them instantly.

"You're late." You scoffed, frowning at the higher pitched voice that came out of your mouth. "Blonde is definitely not your colour either."

Taking a step back to get a better look at Shay, your nose crinkled when you saw he was, well, boring. No distinguishing features at all. His scar had been concealed, and his hair was now sandy ash colour and swept to one side. Most would still find him attractive, but this didn't do anything for you in the slightest. But it wasn't like looks mattered at this moment in time, only that he couldn't be recognised, and Mary had done a fantastic job. On the upside, he was wearing a black suit and tie so that he could take the place of one of the security guards on the upper levels.

"I'll keep that in mind next time I go to the salon love." He joked. "Sorry about the time, Gist took a bit longer than he thought to get these Id's sorted. Here ya go."

Staring at the badge for a moment when he handed it to you, your eyes narrowed as you read the name on it three times, rolling all the despicable things you could do to Christopher when you saw him next around in your head.

"Kandi?! I sound like a freaking stripper! I'm gonna kill him..."

Clipping it to your blouse and slapping his arm when he burst out laughing, you stomped over the road when you saw that the staff were starting to arrive at work, stopping just outside while you waited for Shay to catch up; who was still sniggering at you.

"Oh shut up, Gus. Well, here we go."

Holding your breath as you swiped your card to get through the turnstiles and enter the building, you resisted the urge to smirk when you got through security without any problem and, headed over to the elevators. You were pushed to the back when nearly a dozen other people flooded in, giving you the perfect opportunity to look over the shoulder of the girl in front of you; whose place you would be taking, and sneak a peek at her mobile while she was texting. Taking a phone that Shay slyly handed to you and holding it down by your side, you clicked the screen when you saw that it had paired with her cell, allowing you to clone it.

Flicking through the contacts list quickly, you eventually came across the one you were looking for; stomach-churningly named 'xXhunnibunniXx', and sent a beautifully doctored picture of her kissing a man inside her car. Switching the phone off and slipping it into your bag, you only had to wait several seconds before hers started ringing, pursing your lips when as soon as she answered it, she started becoming hysterical.

"What?! What are you talking about?? I haven't cheated! Sweetie, please... Wait... Listen to me!"

You managed to keep a straight face as she banged on every button on the lift in trying to get out, barging through the doors and pretty much screaming down the phone when they finally opened. Sliding her work card that you had managed to snatch off of her bag into your pocket, all you had to do now, was wait until you got to the top floor.

By the thirty second, there was only four of you left in here, and you were becoming impatient at how long this was taking, huffing when the elevator stopped again at the next level. And as your luck would have it, just as the last two people got off the next person to get on was none other than Haytham, whose eyes immediately widened as he saw you, standing a little too close for comfort directly to your right. Crap crap crappity crap crap! You thought as he kept glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, and you could literally hear Shay gritting his teeth.

"Are you new? I do not believe we have met. Haytham Kenway."

Not daring to meet his eye just in case, you took his hand when he extended it, managing to muster up a small smile when he squeezed your fingers briefly.

"Kandi. I'm just here to help out, one of your assistants called in with a family emergency? So I've been told."

"I see. Well, I do hope you enjoy working for me. Perhaps we could see, more of each other? Over drinks shall we say?"

Your brow furrowed as you wondered what he was getting at when he leered at you, until you followed his gaze downwards and saw that one of your hold ups had slipped, so the lacy top was now just below the hem of your skirt.

"Oh! Silly me. These damned things just won't stay up! Honey, would you mind?"

Spinning around to face Shay, you hoisted your skirt up and propped your heel up on the waist-high rail next to him, grinning when he slowly ran his hands up your calf and thigh, sliding your stocking into its proper place.

"This is my husband, Gus. He's much better at taking them off of course, but that will have to wait until later. So I'll have to pass on your offer. Thank you anyway."

Shay could barely contain his smirk as you kissed him on the cheek and tugged your skirt back down, wiping your lipstick away with your thumb as Haytham gave him a somewhat surly, but polite nod. You bit back the urge to laugh as he couldn't get out of the elevator fast enough when it finally opened on the second to last floor, leaving you and Shay alone for a moment to sort yourselves out when the doors went to close again; pushing the stop button, so the lift didn't go anywhere.

"Well, that's was, interesting, what made ya say that? You probably shouldn't have done it though, that's not gonna make things any easier for us."

"I know, but I couldn't resist, it was just the first thing that popped in my head. Besides, since when do we ever get to do something as easy as this? Least we can be ourselves, apart from our faces. Suppose that was one way of testing the disguises." You giggled, handing back the phone out of your bag and, taking an earbud and a small, pencil-sized device off of him.

Quickly double checking that all remnants of your makeup were off his face, you exited the lift, Shay going to the right and taking his position at the security desk, with yourself going to left, joining the other two assistants outside Kenways office.

"Who are you?!" The redhead sat at the main desk several feet away from you asked rather abruptly without even looking up, her long nails that were clacking on her keyboard making you wince.

"Kandi. Last minute temp. Why are there three of us for one person?"

"Give it five minutes, and you'll know. You better be good." She huffed.

It didn't even take that long before Charles stomped out of Haythams office with a tower of files in his arms, splitting it in two and dumping a pile on yours, and the rest on the other smaller desk with an evil grin.

"You know the drill. Make sure the new one keeps up."

"Yes, Mr Lee." The redhead chanted miserably, not bothering to glance up from her computer.

Grabbing the topmost file and flipping it open, you groaned as you recognised its contents, which was page after page of minutes from meetings that all needed typing up, in Lee's almost illegible handwriting.

This was going to be a looooong day.

[stillebesat]

In the Rubble (4/6)

Blurb: After a bomb collapses a building on both Conan and Kogoro, Conan is faced with a difficult decision regarding the Famous Sleeping Detective.

Story: Detective Conan

Characters: Edogawa Conan/Kudo Shinichi, Mouri Kogoro

TW: Claustrophobia/Trapped

Kogoro took a deep breath and carefully scooted his way closer to the hole, peering inside as best he could. It was a tight squeeze. He would be army crawling most of the way it looked like. Gritting his teeth, he rolled onto his belly, moaning as lightning bolts shot up his legs. He really shouldn't be moving, but the boy was right. The creaking above him only seemed to get more ominous as he strained to hear Shinichi. How long did it take to crawl through a doorway? Unless, the entire hallway on the other side had collapsed as well? Kogoro squinted, trying to see a glimmer of light in the dark opening. Maybe Shinichi was blocking it. Was the boy stuck? Had something collapsed further on? Kogoro's breathing accelerated. "Come on, boya." He muttered.

"I'm clear!" Shinichi's faint voice sounded through the hole. "It's about fifty feet until the space opens up again."

Kogoro grimaced. So part of the hallway had collapsed. He stared down the hole, steeling himself for an uncomfortable trip.

"Ojisan?" Shinichi called.

"I'm coming!" Kogoro called back, spurring himself into action. If he didn't move that boy would only crawl back through to check in on him and it would be better if they both only made this trip once.

Working to keep his legs as still as possible, Kogoro pulled himself into the hole. His breathing quickly grew haggard, his tongue feeling the sting of his teeth whenever he jarred his legs too much. The space was more than narrow, it was claustrophobic. Wires catching in his clothing and hair, shards of concrete jabbing into his arms. His shoulders brushing either side, while the splints seemed to catch on everything little thing; meaning he was constantly having to edge backwards and forward to free himself from whatever they'd gotten stuck on.

How had Shinichi managed to do this just wearing his jacket? The boy had to be a mess of cuts and scrapes now and, Oh Kami. Was the space getting tighter? He could feel the ceiling of the tiny tunnel pressing against his back, bringing back the all too fresh memories of him being trapped earlier. What if the ceiling collapsed on him again! The boy wouldn't be able to get him out by magic strength then. No, Kogoro would be a pancake, flatter than a pancake really. Was that the sound of the ceiling beginning to collapse above him? He couldn't quite hear over his gasps for air.

How had the brat managed to keep crawling through this! Kogoro pressed himself as low to the ground as possible, inching his way forward. He shivered as something cold trickled down his back. Water? Sewage? Gasoline? He remembered smelling it when he'd come to earlier. Was that why Shinichi was anxious to get them both out of here? Had he seen something Kogoro hadn't? Was the place going to explode again?! His fingers scrambled at the rubble as he jerked himself forward away from the cold trickle. Fifty feet. Fifty feet. It hadn't seemed that far, but by Kami, he'd been crawling for a mile already!

"You're almost there, Ojisan. Just a few more feet."

Kogoro jerked, crying out as he slammed his head into a metal pipe above him. Brat! He rubbed the back of his smarting head, cursing under his breath. Not even near him and the boy was still causing him grief.

"Ojisan?" The boy called out once again.

Kogoro growled, lowering his hand. "I'm coming, brat. One of us isn't as skinny as the other." He pulled himself forward, sucking in his stomach in hopes it would make the space feel less tight. It didn't help. But Shinichi's voice sounded close. He had to be almost out.

Shinichi chuckled. "Need to go on a diet, old man?"

Kogoro rolled his eyes. "You got a way to shrink me too, brat?"

"Not anything that isn't incredibly painful." Was his quiet response.

Kogoro winced at the boy's tone. The retort had just slipped out. "I'll pass then. Got enough on my plate already with my legs." He replied, trying to figure out a way to dig himself out of that particular hole. Just exactly how painful was it for the boy to change sizes? He recalled Conan's screams when he'd grown and winced. Okay, it had to be as bad as the boy had said. Extremely painful. Shinichi didn't strike him as the type to scream when he was in pain-well he hadn't even cried when recovering from that bullet to a stomach as Conan, so for him to scream while changing- Kogoro ducked his head, pressing his cheek to the ground as he inched through a tiny gap created from fallen pipes. His scrambling hands met Shinichi's overly warm ones as they clamped around his wrists.

"About time Ojisan." Shinichi stated as he dragged Kogoro from the hole. "Did you actually get stuck?"

Kogoro carefully rolled onto his back, meeting Shinichi's eyes as he rubbed his wrists. Oh, it felt so good to draw in a full breath of air. To be out in the relative open again. "No." He denied a bit too quickly. Not really, he'd gotten out hadn't he! He'd done just fine for not being able to use his legs.

Shinichi raised an eyebrow, his blue eyes standing out on his flushed, grime covered face as he crouched down next to Kogoro, double checking the splints and readjusting the alignment on the right one. Shinichi didn't believe him. Kogoro could tell that much.

"Well, hopefully that's the smallest gap we'll have to go through." The boy said instead of pointing out Kogoro's lie. Again, another change in the boy. He had liked proving himself right before. No matter what the cost.

Kogoro had to fervently agreed on that point though. They just needed to get down to the first floor and out. It shouldn't be too difficult, if the rest of the building was in better condition.

Kogoro raised himself onto his elbows, studying Shinichi. He frowned, noting the boy's hands seemed to tremble a bit more in their work. "You okay, kid?" He grimaced. It was a dumb question. A really dumb question considering their predicament. But Kogoro was right in thinking that the trek through that hole hadn't been easy for Shinichi. There had to be at least a dozen new bleeding cuts on Shinichi's arms and legs. Who knew how many more were on his torso as well with it hidden by his ragged jacket.

"Fine." Shinichi replied with an air of distraction as he retightened each splint.

Kogoro rolled his eyes. "I'm beginning to think you don't know the meaning of that word, boy. You hardly look fine."

"You should look in a mirror."

"If I look as bad as I feel I won't be surprised." Kogoro replied sitting up, reaching out a hand to feel Shinichi's forehead before the boy could pull away. "You're burning up." The brief contact was enough for him to tell that the boy had warmed up drastically in the time it'd taken them both to crawl through the hole.

Shinichi grimaced, rubbing at his forehead where Kogoro had touched him. "I know, but I'm...I'm as fine as I can be until the effects of the pill wear off." He straightened, jerking his head to the stairwell. "Let's get you out of here, Ojisan."

Kogoro glanced to the stairs leading upwards, and frowned, there was something wrong with that image though he couldn't place what, beyond that it was only half there. The outside railing had collapsed, leaving a jagged parody of an actual staircase in place. He turned his focus back to Shinichi, unable to hide his worry. "Can you even carry me now? Up that?" The boy didn't look well at all, his face held a fine sheen of sweat.

Shinichi's eyes flashed. "I carried you this far haven't I?" He asked jutting out his chin in a stubbornly familiar way.

How had Kogoro not pieced together before that Conan was Shinichi? They had the same tenacious streak in their mannerisms. Right. It was because normal people didn't normally shrink.

Kogoro took a breath, pretty sure he was about to waste it. "We can wait here you know. Let you rest for a bit." The boy should be lying down, not using all his energy to get the two of them out of this disaster.

Shinichi shook his head just as Kogoro expected him to. "I'm getting you out, Ojisan." He repeated, his hands clenching.

Yep. No surprises there. Kogoro rolled his eyes, wishing the boy wasn't standing just out of reach so he could knock some sense into him. He reached up, grabbing onto a jutting piece of concrete. "The moment you drop me, boya, I'm making you sit down."

"I'm not going to drop-!"

"Just saying, brat." The moment Shinichi couldn't hold him was the moment they would stop and wait for rescue. That was that. No matter what the brat said. He drew in a steadying breath. "Let's get going before you keel over, Shinichi." He pulled himself to his feet, biting his tongue to keep from crying out as he worked to keep the weight off his more painful right leg. Not that Shinichi let him stand for more than half a second before he was there, again lifting Kogoro into a fireman's carry.

"I got you." He reassured him a bit breathlessly.

But who has you, Shinichi? Kogoro thought, twitching as Shinichi shuffled them to the stairwell. The boy was radiating heat like a furnace now. That wasn't a good sign. It had to not be a good sign. The boy had said an hour before he became Conan again right? Was the heat a symptom of it wearing off? Kogoro gripped Shinichi's good shoulder as the boy made it to the first stair. He looked upwards and realization of what was wrong with it finally hit him. "Why are we going up, boy?" He demanded. "The exit's downstairs. You're at the wrong stairwell." They'd been on the second floor of the mansion when the bomb had gone off.

Shinichi paused turning his sweat drenched face to Kogoro. He cracked a smile, not at all patronizing, but understanding Kogoro's confusion. "I'm not, Ojisan. The bomb blew a hole in the floor. We fell two stories to the basement."

Oh. Kogoro looked upwards again, tensing as Shinichi began to climb one slow step at a time, keeping as close to the wall as he could. The stairs groaning alarmingly under their weight. "How did we survive that?" A bomb that strong...shouldn't they both be dead? If not from the explosion, then from the fall and rubble?

"I...used the... inflatable soccer ball of mine to block most of the explosion." Shinichi managed, gripping tightly onto the remaining handrail as he swayed. "I...I don't know after that..." He moved again, his breathing accelerating as he climbed faster. "Something struck me... from behind and... I blacked out."

"Inflatable...wait." Kogoro shifted uncomfortably on the boy's hot shoulders. Once they reached the ground floor he'd make Shinichi put him down. The boy needed to rest. "Don't you have other little toys?" he demanded as they neared the top. "A what was it-a badge? You and your little friends talk into them all the ti-"

Shinichi stumbled then, his body flashing inferno hot, his knees colliding with the next step as a painful scream once more tore from his throat. Shinichi doubled over, sending Kogoro flying off his shoulders and nearly plunging over the railless side of the stairs as he clutched at his chest.

Kogoro just managed to grab onto the handrail as he tumbled, his arm too screaming in protest as he nearly jerked it out of it's socket. His legs joining in on the agony outcry as they smacked down on the edge of the stairs, his feet dangling over the broken side. Kogoro briefly saw black from the pain, but he kept enough presence of mind to keep a hold onto his jacket Shinichi was wearing, preventing the boy from tumbling over the side as he curled up in a ball, fingers digging into his chest.

He knew Shinichi wasn't fine! Foolish boy, trying to do things beyond his physical capabilities. Kogoro gritted his teeth, blinking his vision back into focus. With Shinichi's agonized scream echoing once more in his ears, he used the railing to pull himself closer to the 'safe' side, swinging his legs around so that he could at least be sitting on the steps. Once he was stable, Kogoro let go of the railing to grab onto the boy with both hands, pulling him upwards, hissing as the boy's weight dragged across his legs to settle in his lap. "I got you, Shinichi." He managed, wrapping both arms around the boy, holding his burning body tightly as he writhed in Kogoro's grip. "I got you."

[asgardianintern]

The Witching Hour

AN: This is the sequel to Sunrise, written with love and admiration to my platonic soul-mate and best friend @strainedrex34 thank you for being so patient with me, I’m sorry this took so long my love.

Tossing and grunting, sweat pooled on his furrowed brow as he struggled to wake from the nightmare that gripped him. The sheets were bunched in his fist, tangled around his legs, his muscles tensing, tensing until with a gasp, he wrenched himself awake. Bucky sat bolt upright, shoulders heaving with his breath as the details of the nightmare, only moments ago so vivid, began to fade. The bad dreams were fewer and further between now, but they still hit him like a freight train some nights. Sighing, he ran his hands through his damp, shaggy hair and reached out to touch her sleeping form. But where he was expecting to find the warm curve of her hip, he found only cold, empty air and a pile of rumpled blankets where she should have been.

Confused, he rubbed his eyes and looked around for her, hoping to see her in one of the darkened corners of her bedroom, but she was nowhere to be found. The digital alarm clock she kept on her vanity showed the time to be 3:27 am, what his mother had always called the "witching hour"; though they were both night owls, she should have come to bed by now. Blinking, he got to his feet, his ears pricked up for any sound, his muscles tensed in preparation and against the rising tide of panic. A blade of yellow light was shining under the closed bedroom door, and he followed it, easing the door open and stepping into the hall.

Relief flooded through him as he saw her sitting on the couch in the living room-for a few gutwrenching moments, he had feared the worst-but his heart sank again when he heard the soft, stifled sounds of her crying. And caught sight of the kitchen shears clenched in her right hand and the scattered chunks of hair lying on the coffee table. Bucky let out a sigh, hoping the sound would alert her to his presence, and slowly crept forward, not wanting to startle her. When he was close enough, he touched her shoulder with his left hand, the sensors embedded in the vibranium recognizing the warmth of her skin. He had found that during a bad night like this, it was best to touch her with his metal hand, because that was how she identified him. That was how he grounded her.

Even so, she flinched under his hand, and he leaned down to brush the top of her head with a kiss. "It's just me," he rasped.

"Did I wake you up?" Her voice was small, thick with tears, and it tore at his heart. Tracing the curve of her shoulder, he shook his head. She sniffed, a tiny, broken sound. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Throwing a muscular leg over the back of the couch, he slid down onto the cushion beside her. "What happened?" A stifled sob that could have been a mumbled sentence was his only answer. Taking a deep breath, he reached out and took her hands in both of his, gently plucking the shears from her palm and folding their hands together. "You can tell me when you're ready."

There were a few minutes of heavy silence, lingering like smoke in the air, before she squeezed her hands around his and took a deep breath, wiping the tears from her face. "I just...I forgot where I was. I forgot what year it was, and for a second, I was afraid that he..." She stopped, swallowed hard, eyes screwed shut against a wave of fresh tears. "I was afraid that he was coming after me." Bucky nodded, understanding all too well the all-consuming terror of the ones you feared the most relentlessly tracking you down, even if it was all in your head. "I started panicking, and I wasn't really thinking clearly, and the only thing I could think of to do was..." She paused, gesturing at the pile of hair on the table. "To cut my hair so he wouldn't recognize me." A sob broke through, and her fingers tightened around his, her grip so fierce it would have bruised anyone else. "So that he couldn't grab hold of it ever again."

Bucky was silent for a few heart-wrenching moments, fighting back the urge to crush her against him, to cage her in his arms as a shield against anything that would dare to threaten her. But what she needed now was not a cage. What she needed was reassurance, and he sighed, reaching up to touch the inexpertly cut strands of her hair. "You know," he started, his voice low, "I used to cut my own hair when I was a kid. Steve and I taught ourselves, practiced on each other. Accidentally gave him a bowl cut once." His soul leapt to hear a tiny, water-logged laugh. "I could fix this for you, if you want."

For a moment, she was still, then her delicate fingers slid along his hand, tracing the veins and ridges of bone along his knuckles. "James..." she whispered, finally raising her head to look him fully in the face. Her grey-blue eyes were bloodshot and still shedding quiet tears, two red patches slapped across her arched cheekbones, a faint sheen of perspiration on her forehead. Obviously, she had been trying very hard to keep her sobs quiet, he guessed for his sake, and the ache in his chest deepened for her. Smiling, Bucky reached up with his free hand, his metal hand, and with a feather-light touch, brushed away a tear trembling by her mouth.

"It's okay." She only called him James when she was at her most vulnerable, her most open and wounded. He'd grown so used to the name Bucky, the name his childhood friend had given him, that James seemed foreign and surreal. He would sit with her, soothe her, calm her, until she could call him Bucky again.

Brushing a kiss over her knuckles, he stood and went to the kitchen, flipping lights on along the way. Working briskly, he laid a towel down on the floor to catch the cut hair and pulled up an old wooden chair next to the sink. He glanced up to see her standing in the doorway, her toes on the line where carpet met hardwood, picking her lip and staring at the floor. His smile was gentle, his touch gentler still as he took her elbow, guiding her to sit in the chair. He hummed a song, some new melody that he couldn't remember the words to but always seemed to make her happy, as she laid her head back in the sink and let him run warm water over her hair. A line appeared between her brows, then smoothed out as she allowed a quiet smile to curve her lips, her hand falling to her side and her eyes meeting his at last.  

"Are you humming Shape of You?"

Bucky laughed, running his fingers through the unevenly cut strands. "You play it so much, it keeps getting stuck in my head." Her smiled widened, a tiny sparkle returning to her slate-grey eyes as she began murmuring the lyrics along to his tune. They sang together as he washed her hair, their voices growing louder and more sure as he sat her forward, catching the drips in her hair with another towel, turning her so she was sitting in the light. Eventually, Bucky began singing songs he'd loved in his childhood, some Judy Garland, some Andrews Sisters, a little Fred Astaire. Love songs, mostly. He was no Frank Sinatra, but he could carry a tune well enough (better than Steve could, he'd always bragged), and she seemed to enjoy the soft baritone of his voice. Her hair was easy enough; there was enough left to fashion into what the kids today called a "pixie cut", short in back and long in front. The ends of her hair now brushed the line of her jaw, and he was relieved as he handed her a mirror to see her smile. 

"Buck...it's wonderful. I love it." She stood and wrapped her arms around his neck, her damp hair cool against his chin as she pressed her entire body against him, warm and solid and secure. "Thank you for this."

Bucky in turn banded his arms tightly around her, breathing in the smell of her shampoo and her perfume and the unnameable and instantly calming scent of her skin. "Anytime, doll," he rumbled in her ear, rubbing her back softly. They embraced for a few moments, the world seeming to slow down around them to allow this extended moment of peace. Then, it ended with a yawn. She covered her mouth and withdrew from his as far as his grasp would allow.

"Sorry," she mumbled, her eyelids fluttering to half-mast.

"It's fine." Bucky kissed her forehead, then released her. "Why don't you go on to bed? I'll clean up here in and be in in a minute, okay?"

She nodded, a smile once again curving her lips as she gave him a quiet goodnight, disappearing into the shadows of the open bedroom doorway. He heard the springs on the mattress creak as she got into bed, and sighed contentedly, fishing the broom out from its place between the refrigerator and the wall. He swept up the hair from the kitchen and living room, put the scissors away, and threw the damp towels into the hamper before switching off the lights and joining her beneath the covers. He kissed her, long and slow and deep, just as the digital clock blinked over to 5 am. The witching hour was over, the crisis had passed. And as the sky began to turn grey and the birds began to stir from their roosts, they drifted from the waking world, tangled in the comfort of each other's arms.

[super-queer-hannibal-obsession]

A Soft Crescendo

Many months ago I wrote something for the Hannibal Big Bang, and I promised @fragile-teacup I would write some more for it. I don’t know if she even remembers that, but I have worked on it some over the months. I decided to post chapter 2 today, and I hope she and everyone enjoys! Thanks Alex for being the nagging voice in the back of my head to keep writing this and also thank you for all the beautiful prose you write! 

(Artwork was created by @hannahthemighty for the fic during the bang.)

Notes:  Hannibal and Will hide out in Mexico. This chapter follows some snapshots of their life together as Will struggles to come to terms with their relationship and with himself. They live together in a dance of unbearable intimacy and excruciating distance. Some hurt/comfort and some smut to be found here.

Will pulled the sweaty shirt over his head and threw it on the floor. His whole body was covered in a light sheen of sweat. The small, cheap motel they were in had a broken air conditioner and the rising temperatures left the third-floor room hot and muggy. The walls were yellow and heavily spackled, the paint peeling and slightly greying. There was a watercolor painting of a woman in a red sundress walking down a deserted street with her son. Other than that the room was sparse with no decoration. Will tried to rest on the bed. Hannibal had removed the bedding provided and used his own clean, new sheets. Will flipped through the channels. They were all in Spanish, and he could only understand half of it. Grabbing the bottle of tequila, he took a couple of swigs. It took the edge off of the swollen waiting.

He walked into the bathroom and looked in the mirror at his face, skinnier than it had been in a while. He rubbed his thumbs over the bags under his eyes and sighed deeply. The shower let out a high-pitched scream when he turned it on; it was old and the water pressure low. But, the cold water was a relief, and he sighed deeply as the drops caressed his skin. He ran his fingers through his hair and tried to relax. The city was hot and busy, and he was feeling restless with nowhere to go and little to do. He didn’t know where Hannibal was exactly, but he had a vague idea. They had been here for six months and had come to an agreement. Hannibal could kill once a month as long as it was someone who had done something terrible enough to deserve it. Will had no way of knowing if he was following through, however.

The feel of a hand against his shoulder startled him, and he yelped softly, beginning to look around for something to defend himself before quickly realizing that it was Hannibal.

“You scared the hell out of me,” Will said catching his breath. “I didn’t hear you to come in.”

“You need to be more careful, Will. What if it hadn’t been me?” Hannibal half-chided.

Will reached for his towel, but Hannibal reached out and grabbed Will’s forearm. “Don’t.”

Will noted the excitement in Hannibal’s eyes. He must have achieved his goal.

Hannibal unbuttoned the loose, white shirt he was wearing and placed it neatly on a hanger in the closet.

“Hurry up,” Will called, rubbing soap over his chest while he waited.

“Shhh,” Hannibal replied, his voice was dangerous and low.

Will could tell he was in for a treat.

Hannibal removed his pants and briefs just as carefully. Will could tell he was gathering himself, focusing on steadying his breath.

Will would let him have his way, let him be rough, would join in eagerly.

“I wish you had been there, Will.” He lamented as he pushed open the curtain and let himself inside the small shower, placing both his hands on Will’s hips. The energy was tense, but slow and building, not near the crescendo it would be later.

Will stared at the mess of hair on Hannibal’s chest and the slow, deep rise and fall of his breath.

“I’m here now.” Will said, voice already breathy.

The shower wasn’t ideal for sex. But the stifling heat still made it the best option.

“I suppose that will have to do,” Hannibal said, pushing Will against the wall and grinding their hips together. Their cocks slid against each other, pressing into each other’s stomachs. Will was feeling a little heady from the tequila. All he could think of was Hannibal’s hands, on his hips, on his sides, on his shoulders, as he caressed Will’s body roughly.

Their kisses were rougher than normal, Hannibal bit him hard, and Will gasped a bit in pain, pressing his hand up to his lip, blood oozing onto his fingertips.

“I would say sorry, but you look so delightful in your own blood,” Hannibal sucked the wound, licking Will’s blood. It had a distinct flavor; Hannibal had always told Will he would recognize it easily.

“Don’t be sorry.” Will turned around, placing his hands on the chipped tile, presenting himself submissively and without shame.

Hannibal’s fingers opened him up roughly but attentively. Will’s forehead pressed against the wall, his lips parted as he moaned, droplets of water from his hair falling down his face.

“Do it now.” Will begged.

With a groan and a push, Hannibal moved his length inside of him. It ached a bit. Hannibal was impatient. So was Will. Their bodies moved in a fast, erratic rhythm. This was when it all made sense to Will. All the questions and frustrations fell away like the water running off their bodies, swirling down the drain, as their flesh and breath became one.

*****

“I want to go fishing,” Will said out loud to the room. Hannibal was lying beside him on the bed, and Will was attempting to read a book of classical poetry Hannibal had left around. He was having trouble focusing, however. “The weather here reminds me a bit of summers in New Orleans. While I prefer our last home, I was thinking I could find some things to do around here. Feel more myself again.” He was trying to figure out his own thoughts, figure out a way to break out of the monotony, but he didn’t mind hearing Hannibal’s insights either.

“We could easily find you the supplies you need, Will. I could help you find a spot. We will need a house or somewhere more permanent to settle for a time, anyway. I can’t take much more of these dirty, loud hovels,” Hannibal replied, pressing a soothing hand to Will’s forearm. The space between them seemed to be growing wider each day. Will’s confused feelings manifesting in an unwillingness to engage. They talked less than normal. Will rarely let Hannibal touch him But, in this moment, he let Hannibal ease him into an embrace.

“Things will feel more normal soon, Will.” He promised.

*****

A few months later, they settled into a place along the coast. The small, but cozy villa overlooked the ocean, beautiful in the brilliant setting sun. An explosion of yellows, oranges, and soft reds that contrasted with the almost too blue of the water. There were barely any waves; the night was gentle and warm, full of tension, heavy with lazy expectation. The hot, stillness was interrupted by a bottle thrown from the villa balcony, shattering into pieces on a rock below.

“Fuck,” Will cursed to the hot wind. He worried momentarily about sea turtles or birds getting hurt by the glass and vowed to clean up the mess as soon as he was sober enough to figure out how to walk down to the beach.

After a moment of deliberation, he decided he would be able to manage and walked tipsily towards the steps. It took a good amount of time, and a lot of clinging to the old, metal railing, but he made his way to the white sand and walked to the edge of the water.

Will slipped off his sandals and pressed his feet hard into the sand and water, focusing on the irritation of the sand against his skin and the soft rhythm of the waves. If he could have, he would have screamed to the empty, glittering, black sky. But he was never one to be able to express such extreme outbursts of emotion, even when he wanted to.

“What are you doing out here?” Hannibal’s voice, only a few paces back, startled him and he whirled around.

“Fuck, don’t sneak up on me like that. I thought you were in bed,” Will turned away from him, his energy cool and body language stiff.

“I thought I heard something outside, and I looked and you were gone. So, I followed you here,” Hannibal’s eyes searched over Will’s form and came to stand next to him, pressing a hand to his shoulder, but Will shrugged him off.

“Don’t,” Will admonished softly, but with a hard edge. He wasn’t in the mood for games, for world play, for exhausting metaphors. His head hurt, his mind hurt, his heart hurt.

“Please,” Hannibal’s voice was so soft, so pleading, so tender, it softened Will’s stance for a moment, and he turned slightly toward him.

Will began to reach for Hannibal’s hand but instead thought better of it and turned away from Hannibal again.

“It’s been so long since I’ve really touched you, held you…” Will rarely heard Hannibal speak like this. It was romantic, apologetic, and Will was surprised at how well this manipulation was working.

“Don’t. Just don’t. I can’t. Even if I wanted to, I just can’t right now. It’s too much,” Will could hear himself rambling, his words slurring. All he knew was his defenses were starting to fall with the liquor clouding his reasoning and Hannibal so close with his words so sweet.

“You don’t have to make a permanent decision right now, Will. It doesn’t have to be written in blood and stone…” Hannibal’s voice faltered momentarily. “Come to bed. We can talk about death, aesthetics, and morality tomorrow.”

Will’s resistance was crumbling down rapidly, Hannibal could always rip the walls down, walls that were fortified against all others, with a few words or glances.

“I don’t know…” But his voice and stance were softer now, and he slowly pressed the back of his head against Hannibal’s shoulder. Hannibal’s arms wrapped around his waist and rocked him gently, almost in tandem with the waves.

“Please stay,” Hannibal’s words were near pleading now. “I’ve never been terrified of anything as much as I am of losing you…all of the things that gave life meaning: poetry, art, music, philosophy will be grey and dull without you to share them with. Now that I know how much richer it is to partake with you.” Hannibal breathed against Will’s neck, nuzzling the softness of his curls and taking comfort in his scent and closeness.

Will brushed a hand quickly to his cheek to brush off a tear. “All right,” Will sighed, his hands resting atop Hannibal’s, leaning into Hannibal’s embrace. “Let’s go to bed. I’ve…I’ve missed sharing a bed with you.” Will admitted. This conversation was too intimate, too honest, it almost hurt how hyper-aware and attuned they were to each other in this moment. And the alcohol was making him far too open, far too sappy…

With Hannibal’s help returning inside was a lot easier, he kept a tight hold around Will’s waist, almost as if he was scared if he let Will go for even a moment that he would slip away.

Will slipped off his shoes and shirt and climbed into the soft, white sheets. Hannibal crawled beside him and brought Will close against his chest, stroking his face and over his arms in repetitive, calming motions.

Hannibal kissed Will’s lips gently, attempted to push the kiss further but Will pulled away. “It’s nice to feel you again, Will. To have you back in my arms.”

“For now., You have me back for now. There are conditions. There are things to be worked out.”

“I promise we will.”

“But not tonight, please.” Will pleaded. His voice was low and tired. He pressed his face into Hannibal’s chest.

“No, not tonight.” Hannibal kissed his head softly.

You can read the first chapter or leave a comment on this chapter on AO3.