#a trail of gasoline waiting to be set ablaze and all it needs it a match

[scribble-dribble-writes]

Fuego

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Pairing: Miguel o'hara x female reader

Warning: mostly none, a little sensual tension

Word count: 900

Content: he's had enough of your games, hidden alcove kiss 😩

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As much as he's soft, he's irresistible for a reason 🥵

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You felt the seconds slip by, your eyes fixed on your one desire. The hallways were filled with spider people but you still stayed on track, following his footsteps. But he threw you a look over his shoulder, his eyes finding you as he gave you a sly grin. He knew how to keep you on your toes and you knew how to get what you want.

Now you caught up to him, close enough to trail your finger over his Apollo’s belt. Your eyes catching a glimpse of him through your lashes when the burning gaze he set on you made you return a smile before turning into the crowd.

The odds of the game were in your favor, you had won this round. So knowing you had gotten under his skin, you pushed back your shoulders to walk a little confidently. But as you passed by a dark corridor you felt a slight tug around your waist. Looking down, you knew this was a counter move.

A strong string of his web had been twined around you, so you stood still knowing all too well that in a second he was going tug you towards him to hold you down. Which was what happened. You were pulled into a hidden alcove, his hand gently holding the length of your neck as he enclosed you within his arms. There was no room to escape now. He knew the stakes of your game and played accordingly.

“Senorita, sabes que estas jugando con fuego?”, he dipped low to place his nose into the crook of your neck to breathe in your perfume, you inhaled sharply, wanting to forget this game, to let him trace your silhouette. He dragged the tip of his nose up the edge of your neck till his lips touched the outer rim of your ear.

“dime.”, he whispered.

You swallowed, the tight space now turning a little too sultry as your body temperature rose as his hands dug into your waist.

“You get burned.”, you said as his hand slipped from your throat to feel the contour of your body, his eyes heavy lidded as his lips hovered over yours.

He let out a low chuckle. Everyone in this universe was so oblivious to what was going on between you and him. So you caught his wandering hand to lean closer to him, to give him the illusion of a kiss, to watch him breathe you in and his eyes flutter to a close.

You chuckled, the power you held over him was evident. The most notorious man in the multiverse and here he was melting at your touch as you slipped out of his hold, if he was fire then you were gasoline about to set his mind ablaze.

“Just let me kiss you.”, he spoke, half plea, half demand as you walked him back, till his back rested on the wall.

“Me vuelves loco, bebé.”, he reached out to you as though he had been starved for your touch. He pulled you up, getting you to wrap your legs around his waist as if only then he knew peace, when you were on him. Your hand tracing down his jawline till you caught the ends of his hair.

“Stop teasing me and burn me through.”, he grumbled, as he rested his hands over the top of your thighs.

“A dangerous solution.”, you responded, your eyes taking in all his features.

“Because once I give in, I can’t give you up.”, you tilted your head to the side, all your hair cascading over to the left as he cupped the back of your neck.

“tú eres mi chica.”, he grinned, his eyes a deep swirl of longing, hunger and mysterious myrrh.

“I’m not letting you go anywhere.”, he said it in a faint whisper that sent shivers down your spine.  

All these secret moments in crowded rooms with him had a way of making the world feel surreal. Because when you knew all there was to know with the multiverse and what not, no one knew about this.

There was no need to keep him waiting any longer.

“Since you asked so kindly.”, you held the sides of his face, to kiss him and for a second you could feel his body loosen under you only to come back with a ferocious groan, as though this wasn’t enough.

He pushed away from the wall, to turn and pin you up against it as he still held down your legs against his waist, to press your chest into his. His tongue slipping through your lips to deepen the kiss, all your words muffled as he moaned with satisfaction. You couldn’t feel your knees anymore, you were sure you had transcended into a different realm. You tugged on his hair as he pulled away to breathe, your nails scraping against his skin, his chest rising and falling in a heavy rhythm when his eyes could only focus on you. His pupils turning shades of pink and purple. You could tell you were both thinking the same thing, so you tilted his chin,

“You undo the secrets in my heart.”, he spoke first, his eyes boarding into yours. Taking a second to confide his secret to you.

“I only want to be yours.”, his gaze turned to the shape of your lips again, his thumb tracing your pulse as though he needed proof this was real.

“and I think I might be falling in love with you.”, you confided yours having known he was feeling the same.

“Might?”, he furrowed his brows.

“That’s no good.", he tilted his head as a slow grin spread across his face.

"Let me change that.”, he nudged his head towards you as he pulled you close again to kiss you blind, to remind you that there can be no other alternative to him, to his touch.

That warmth of his love was well capable to feed the fire in your soul.

[lewis-winters]

Day 16: Victory

Part of my OC-tober 2022 (that will get fucking finished in 2024 so help me god)! Another Baldur's Gate 3 one, folks!

This was just an excuse to write a Tadfools puppy pile and also a little dropped hint to whatever is going on between Halsin/my Tav. Again, some Bloodweave in there. Because I care them. And Shadowheart being clingy, because I like that, too. Team As Family, of course.

Also! A tiny depiction of a stray headcanon of mine: being a particularly stubborn and petty godless Paladin means breaking the habit of using gods’ names in vain so, Pasiphaë often incites the ‘Great fuck’ or ‘Holy shit’ when truly exasperated or in a situation that might have had her previously calling for Ilmater. She does this out of spite. I love her.

tw: allusions to Astarion’s whole backstory; they’re all traumatized and pretending so hard that they aren’t

As soon as the sun sets, they go and set Cazador’s Palace ablaze.

Between Gale’s fireball, Shadowheart’s conjured elemental, a gallon of gasoline Astarion had filched from an abandoned food stall, and their overall enthusiasm, they make quick work of the old place in little under two hours. With the amount of destruction that has been wrought upon the city already, nobody bats an eye at the raging flames, nor at the four lunatics that started it. The only ones who do are their Harper allies, who find them sitting together on the Lower City Wall a relatively safe distance away, surveying their handiwork from under some curtains they’d stolen from the ballroom and are now using as blankets to keep warm.

“We were wondering where you were,” Jaheira sighs, making herself comfortable on the ground with them as the rest of her team scouts ahead, checking to make sure the damage doesn’t spread anywhere else. “When we saw the brain fall, our first thought was to search for you in the Chionthar’s waters. Were you here the whole time?”

Nobody answers for a long moment. Nobody moves. They simply watch the flames, its blaze and its warmth enough to evoke the sun.

Finally, Pasiphaë blinks, slowly, like she’s just been awoken from a dream. “We hid by the docks until the sun set,” she tells Jaheira, flatly. “Slept some.”

What a sorry sight they must have been: huddled together behind some barrels and crates like a litter of abandoned kittens, licking their wounds and attempting to crawl into each other’s skin—the very antithesis to the image of victory.

They couldn’t help it, though; the overwhelming silence in their minds where six other presences had been was disconcerting, to say the least. After nearly a year of sharing their tadpole telepathic link, suddenly being unable to feel each other, mentally, incited a desire in all of them to feel each other tangibly, instead. Even Astarion, who in different circumstances would have turned his nose up at the mere idea of cuddling, did not protest when Shadowheart so much as crawled into his lap, and simply turned his face into the crook of Gale’s neck while Pasiphaë circled her arms around all of them best she could. It was difficult, too, to simply dismiss the absent pieces of their seven-way connection. Pasiphaë had wondered, aloud, if Wyll and Karlach also felt the loss. Or if Lae’zel missed it, now, with as much intensity as she had despised it, then. Nobody had wanted to follow that trail of thought.

It ached too much.

Instead, they’d made plans. Serious ones at first, with the Crown of Karsus still in pieces in the Chionthar and majority of the city reduced to rubble and ruin. But the more they talked of it, the more they went in circles. Those plans were for a future a bit farther from reach. Complicated. They wanted—needed something simple.

Shadowheart had been the one to suggest burning Cazador’s Palace to the ground; arson sounded much more invigorating than drinking themselves into a stupor at the nearest tavern. Once they’d unanimously agreed, they’d quickly fallen asleep, tucked tightly against each other. Waiting out the sun.

“I’m sorry,” Pasiphaë tells Jaheira. “We worried you, didn’t we?”

“No more than you usually do,” Jaheira says, waving a dismissive hand. To Astarion, she asks; “do you intend to see this blaze all the way through to its ashes?”

“Not if you promise something better, darling,” Astarion shrugs. He’s managed to slot himself sideways upon Gale’s lap, arms wrapped around his wizard’s neck, legs slung over thighs. Nuzzling into him, he recalls; “what was it? A night of hedonistic debauchery?”

Gale has his eyes closed, weary. “Hm. I think you have to count me out this time, ‘Star.”

“The short length of your sentences are starting to concern me, Gale,” Shadowheart says, from her spot against Pasiphaë, her arm intertwined with hers. Her head on her shoulder. “So long as this hedonistic debauchery involves a bed—”

Astarion snorts, an undignified sound. “How straight forward of you, Shadowheart.”

“Is the Elfsong still standing?” Pasiphaë asks Jaheira, ignoring the new wave of bickering that’s begun.

“Tall and proud, with barely a scratch,” Jaheira tells her. “I must warn you, though. A difficult conversation awaits you there.”

The bickering ceases and three pairs of curious ears perk up. Pasiphaë struggles not to roll her eyes. “For tomorrow,” she says, to both Jaheira and audience, before stretching her legs out with a groan. “For now: home. And rest.”

They get up with some struggle, sore and tired, pins and needles rushing through their stiff limbs as they pick their way through the smoking city toward camp. They cling to each other still, even when it makes walking through narrow alley ways tough. But it doesn’t slow them down at all. The moon has barely made it up into the sky before the Elfsong finally looms before them, a welcome sight.

Halsin is waiting for them at the entrance, whole, largely unharmed, and pacing. He hasn’t clocked them yet.

“You don’t have to engage him,” Gale reassures her with a whisper. “Halsin has always been a reasonable man; if we were to tell him that you wish to be left alone tonight, he would no doubt honor that request.”

“You don’t have to get between us,” Pasiphaë tells him. “But I appreciate it.”

Luckily, it doesn’t come to that—before she can even so much as make eye contact with the druid, the door of the Elfsong opens, and her children spill out.

“Mama,” Serafina gasps in Elvish, as she and her brother practically throw themselves at Pasiphaë. They’re not quite as small as they used to be, but Pasiphaë still catches them well enough and only stumbles a bit. “Phaë, oh thank the goddess, we thought you—I thought—”

“Oh, my baby,” Pasiphaë coos, holding her close as she begins to cry. “It’s alright. I’m alright. We’re alright.”

Everybody graciously gives them privacy—though from the corner of her eye she sees Halsin hesitate, just a moment, before Jaheira pulls him inside the building—leaving them to relocate to one of the tables still intact out front, waiting out the worst of the water works as Serafina blubbers and hiccups her way through words. By the time she’s calmed down, the world about them has quieted into a near hush, sans perhaps some lucky crickets. It’s still quite early into the evening, but even for a city as robust and bustling as Baldur’s Gate, being invaded by an army of cultists and mind-flayers would significantly damper the night life. On the bright side, there’s less vampire spawn and Bhaal followers in it, now. “This city is not so bad,” Pasiphaë snorts. “Now that we cleaned it up, some, I mean.”

“I’m sick of it,” Serafina sniffles, shaking her head. “I think. I think it’s about time I moved.”

Xenodius chuckles. “I was just jesting about that, you know?”

“No. I know you were. But I’m not so stubborn now as to dismiss the wisdom behind the jest. Besides,” Serafina smiles. “Phaë’s wizard has sold me on the idea of Waterdeep.”

“Well. It’s not Neverwinter.” But at least it isn’t the fucking Gate, goes unsaid.

“I want you to come with me, Phaë.”

Pasiphaë blinks. Then blinks some more. “You—”

“Please don’t say you want me to have a life of my own. I have that. I’d still like for you to be in it.”

“I… wasn’t going to say that,” Pasiphaë lies, grasping for other arguments she might have. “It’s just… Waterdeep is so awfully far, linnon dithen, and the house—who will take care of the house?”

“I will!” Xenodius protests. “I’ve inherited your propensity for bringing home strays, you know. Elias and I will need more space, soon.” He reaches out and takes Pasiphaë’s hand. “That house is too big for you, Phaë.”

He does have a point. But Pasiphaë isn’t going to give them both the satisfaction of being right without working for it, just a bit. “Have you two been talking about me behind my back?”

“Of course.”

Pasiphaë rolls her eyes. “Such brats.”

“We were just worried about you,” Serafina says, so, so patient. Since when has she become so patient? All at once, Pasiphaë’s throat tightens with emotion, and she has to blink rapidly to keep it all at bay. “That house… it has a lot of happy memories. But there are many bad ones, too. I lost Phaedra and Mel in that house. I thought I lost you in that house—” Pasiphaë winces. “—There’s been more bad than good that’s happened there, recently. I don’t like the idea of you wallowing in that for the rest of your life. Perhaps it’s time for some where new?”

“Sera—”

“Or you can go with Halsin, if that’s what you want!”

Pasiphaë feels like her heart’s been tossed into the air. “What.”

“I mean. I thought—” Serafina fidgets, her turn now to grasp for something to say. “You know I don’t mind, right? You aren’t… I don’t think you’re replacing Mel at all! Odi doesn’t, either.”

Xenodius nods, enthusiastically. “I think he’s nice, Mama.”

Oh, great fuck, deliver her. “I am not ready to have this conversation with you.”

“Why not?”

“Because Halsin and I are most definitely not like that.” She doesn’t try and specify what that means, afraid to lose the plausible deniability in lacking a proper label.

Despite her efforts, though, the siblings seem to understand it perfectly. Exchanging glances that are a bit too knowing for her comfort, they look to her, frowning. “Oh?” Sera says, an eyebrow raised. “I… Are you sure?”

Pasiphaë flounders for an answer. She can’t find one, so she just doesn’t answer at all.

They stay for a few more moments, before Pasiphaë’s growling stomach and growing anxiety prompts them to go inside. Everybody else is waiting around the fire pit for them, idly chatting between themselves. Shadowheart has the Owlbear sprawled across her lap while Astarion has Scratch in his. Tara has found Gale as well, kneading biscuits into his lap while meowing and mrrp-ing what Pasiphaë suspects to be admonishments and endearments.

Through all this, Halsin is cradling a slumbering Yenna, the child the only thing keeping him from getting up and… well. Pasiphaë isn’t sure what he wants to do. From the look on his face, she thinks he might want to kiss her. Or maybe tell her that he never wants to see her again. It would take more than a cursory look for Pasiphaë to determine which it really is, but she’s not ready to take more than a glance. Especially with everybody else discretely staring and wondering too loud without saying a word.

Pasiphaë looks at Jaheira, and sure enough, the druid is looking at her already, an eyebrow raised in question. Pasiphaë shakes her head. Jaheira rolls her eyes.

Dinner is a subdued affair. Nobody really wants to talk all that much. Or eat much, either. But Odi’s paternal instincts kick in, and he forces them to stomach a few bites, even when the tavern’s stew is a bit too bland for their tastes. Serafina gives up some of her own blood for Astarion’s meal, and Pasiphaë hugs her daughter extra tight to thank her for her generosity.

“It’s nothing,” Sera tells her, and Astarion, too. She smiles at him, and for a moment looks like she wants to say more, but thinks better of it. “You’re… uh. You’re welcome.” Astarion appears grateful for her intuition.

Sleep comes quick. They’re less huddled together about it, with Gale and Astarion retiring together to their own cot while Pasiphaë acquires both her children and Shadowheart in hers. Pasiphaë wants to grumble something about being made into an elf-sized teddy bear by two fully grown elves far too old to be sleeping in their mother’s bed, but decides to keep it to herself. Shadowheart is still grieving the loss of her parents after all, it’s no use accidentally prodding that wound for the sake of faux-surliness. If she could help curb that by holding her the way she did her own children after a particularly nasty nightmare, then Pasiphaë resolutely doesn’t mind being slowly crushed to death. They push together three cots to fit all of them together with Pasiphaë in the middle—and if it so happens to be within sight of Gale and Astarion’s cot and Halsin’s place by the fire, well. Nobody says anything.

They let exhaustion take them as soon as their heads hit the pillows.

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Linnon dithen means ‘little singer’ in Tolkein's Sindarin. Forgotten Realms doesn’t actually have any official Elvish conlang (aside from the few official words in that one dictionary), so I substituted it with Sindarin instead.

Serafina also switches between calling her mother(s) Mama and their nicknames, while Odi prefers to just call them Mama. Pasiphaë and Melisandre had really tumultuous relationships with their own parents/guardians and I imagine weren’t so precious about parental monikers as a result. Odi prefers calling them Mama, though. I think that's just the kind of person he is. To their other children (Sera and Phaedra), they were Mama in times of heightened emotion while any other time they were Phaë and Mel.

[starspent]

i can only drop bread crumbs for an aerie of eagles. they're not looking for it, nor expecting it, and there's whole loaves of bread still in my bag. a feast for the watching eye, where the gaze lies elsewhere.

[mattzerella-sticks]

The Big Goodbye (a 14x12 Dean/Cas Coda to “Prophet and Loss”)

(Link to Fic)

Castiel still had an itch he needed to scratch, and while Sam's speech got through to Dean, there was still hesitance there. That a part of him would not let go of the box even if he believed in his family. Since he feels like their time together was always cut short, Cas decides he will say what he needs to say - what he wanted to say for the longest time. And be the turning point that helps get Dean to fully commit.

           Castiel slammed Dean up against the wall of his bedroom. He waited for this moment long enough, the outside world interrupting in the worst moments. Antonio, Donatello, even Sam though he hadn’t meant it, startling him; keeping him from pouncing. But now, locked away in his hunter’s den, there was no one who could have stopped him. He could let drip all the gasoline he held back then set it ablaze with one action. “I have a few words for you, Dean Winchester.”

           Dean gulped, darting down the expanse of Castiel’s face before meeting his gaze again. Castiel has studied Dean’s eyes for years, learned the hidden emotions that he believed were reflections of the ones he felt. The feelings he doubted the names of for so long, only assured in his confidence when the end seemed near, were plain for him to see. Jumping like sparks off exposed wiring, ready to shock them both.

           “Y’know, I said I wouldn’t do it, Cas,” he whispered; voice heavy and rough, “Sam punched me already… I think I have enough bruises for the night.”

           “I don’t think so,” Castiel said, leaning closer, “But then again, I don’t feel like punching you either.”

           “…Then what are you going to do?”

           “I’m going to talk, and you’re going to listen.”

           “Well then maybe we can get a bit more comfortable – ngh!”

           Castiel slipped a knee between Dean’s open legs, grinning at the blush he worked onto his hunter’s face. “No,” he told him, “I need your undivided attention. This has been something we’ve put off for far too long.”

           “…I’ve only had this plan for less than a week.”

           “I know.”

           Dean frowned, sighing. “All right, you’ve come this far, then. Out with it.”

           Castiel pulled back, squinting at Dean. He could tell his hunter wanted to look away, his neck twitching like a cornered animal. Dean’s body hummed with all the pent-up energy of a circuit cut from completion. Yet he remained where he was, staring at Castiel like the years between their first meeting and now were nothing but days; time having folded over on itself like a piece of paper. That wasn’t the case. They can’t go back. Castiel doesn’t want to go back. He wants to move forward with Dean, alongside Dean – into the future.

           “I can’t believe you weren’t going to tell me –“

           “I was going to tell you –“

           “I had to find out from Sam –“

           “I was figuring out how to say goodbye –“

           “We’ve said goodbye all the time, in worst situations… how could it be any different?”

           “Because I…” Dean muttered, face fully flushed, “Because all the other times I got them wrong – I did them… wrong.”

           Castiel smiled, one hand loosening on his jacket to slide up the side of his face. He stroked a thumb across his cheek, scruff a comforting sensation. “So did I,” he said, “Which was why after Sam told me I… I went to work. I searched and referenced everything I could to save you from your fate. But I admit I wasn’t… only preoccupied with that. My biggest fear was that there would be nothing in all the books and guides the Letters collected.”

           “It still doesn’t seem like there is –“

           “Hush,” Castiel commanded, “I’m not done.” He gripped at Dean’s jaw, applying a light pressure that made stars burst before the green backdrop in his eyes. “When I am, then you can speak… Okay?” Dean nodded. “Good… I figured that, where Sam failed maybe I could succeed. Convince you that there was still some spark of hope left that we could nurture and grow. I meant it then and I mean it now.”

           “But…” Castiel chuckled, “You… you’re so stubborn. Running away every chance I tried to speak, each time forcing me to re-write the script I prepared for you. When we got those few seconds alone in the care facility I’ll admit to tossing all my notes out the window – your very presence setting my grace on fire with the overwhelming need to make you see reason. And then I…” He trailed off, tongue darting across his lips.

           Dean followed their path. His mouth parted, as if to speak, only nothing came out. Castiel could tell he remembered what was asked of him, and didn’t want to break the rules. Chills rocketed up his spine, and Castiel growled out a ragged breath. “I learned a lot from you Dean,” Castiel confessed, “You taught me to defy fate… that following my heart is better than following orders, even if it led to a few mistakes… and one very, very important thing.” He skewed his head to the side. “You can ask what it was.”

           “What was it?” Dean rushed out.

           “That we’re afforded so few things in this life, that we must make the most of our nights – as if they were our last,” Castiel told him, “And if you truly believed this was going to be our final goodbye… I wanted it to be big.”

           Then Castiel kissed him, doing what he wanted to do earlier in the night, what he dreamed of for so long. Dean tasted of stale beer and grape Jell-O, the mingling flavors only driving him further into madness. They reminded him of the beauty in the ordinary, of humanity, and the man who set the bar for all others that now melted in his embrace. Dean’s arms wrapped tight around his waist, tugging him closer for contact.

           “Oh yeah,” he panted, Castiel sliding down to nibble at his neck, “This is just what you ordered, Dr. Novak.”

           “Funny,” Castiel said, “I thought you would prefer cowboys…”

           “Cowboys, doctors… if you had kept the white coat and stepped into some cowboy boots this would have been the perfect send-off.”

           “I find that the grandest gestures are somehow the most simple and…” he traced a hand down his thigh, “intimate.”

           Dean shivered at the touch, leg hitching up and over Castiel’s hip. “I don’t get it though,” he continued as Castiel laved at his collar, “Why now? Why make this your goodbye?”

           He slowed his affection. Tearing away from the bruise he worked onto Dean’s skin, he returned his attention to his hunter’s face. He looked nervous, like he stood on the edge of a cliff, staring into a long and unknown fall. Castiel grabbed for Dean’s hand, curling his fingers around it possessively. “Because sometimes a goodbye isn’t what you think,” Castiel explained, “It could be a closing of an old way of life – cleansing of a toxic way of thinking. My goodbye wasn’t to you but for you. To show that I am done thinking I don’t deserve this, that we can’t have something beautiful. I… I had hoped the expression of my… care towards you would inspire you to not go through with it – give you something to cling to.”

           “Cas…”

           “You said earlier, that if I was a good friend I would let you do this?” Cas grinned, an easy stretch of his lips, “Well… that’s okay if I’m not. Because I don’t want to be your friend– it’s not enough. I want us to be more.”

           His words had an affect on Dean. From the way his lips trembled, to the glossy sheen of his eyes. He looked gorgeous to Castiel like this, reminding him of the many natural wonders across the Earth. Overcome with the sensations and feelings Castiel evoked, Dean seemed as pure and untainted as nature itself. Castiel wiped away a stray tear that slipped past.

           “I – um… I never thought…” Dean choked back a sob, laughing. “I didn’t realize what this was for a… for a long time. Got so used to denying myself things, saying it was good for everyone…” He squeezed Castiel’s hand, his other rubbing at his cheek. “I… I want to say yes. There’s nothing I want more than for us to… But…”

           “Dean,” Castiel said, “we still have a chance. Believe in the people who believe in you – that good things can still happen for us.”

           Dean chuckled again. “You really know what to say… maybe that’s why I was avoiding you until the end. Could sense that whatever you were going to lay down was going to make it hard for me to walk away from.”

           “I can be very persuasive,” Castiel told him, “especially to get what I want. And that’s to wipe away any doubt that we’ll need to use that crazy plan of yours.”

           “…It’s in the book –“

           “Enough talk of books,” Castiel growled, pressing against Dean’s crotch. “I’m going to fuck you, and when I’m done you’ll be too wrung out to be pessimistic about the future.”

           “That’s so sweet Cas… you gonna turn down the covers and light a couple of candles by the bed, too?”

           “…Who said anything about using the bed?”

           Castiel flipped him over, knocking the air out of him. He latched onto his neck with his lips once more, teeth biting at the sensitive spot he already marked. His fingers sped to his belt, unbuckling it along with his pants’ button.

           Dean enjoyed every second of Castiel’s ministrations. As each article of clothing fell away, he was met with a groan, cry, or outburst of heady jubilance. His hunter squirmed, trying to reach out. But every attempt was met with a disapproving snarl. “No,” Castiel told him, “no moving until I tell you.”

           He focused on working Dean into a fierce ecstasy he could never recover from. Not burdened by the limits of physicality, Castiel extended his grace out to Dean to increase his sensitivity. So that each brush of his fingers across skin was like a string of wildfires blazing in the summer heat. And his kisses stung with the force of the strongest lightning storms.

           By the time they finished, Dean was slumped over on Castiel’s chest, their naked bodies wrapped in each other. Halfway into Dean’s second orgasm, he repositioned him so that he could lift his hunter into his arms. By his third, Castiel was inside of him.

           Castiel gently pet Dean’s head, murmuring praise into his ear, showering him with as many compliments he could weave together. Dean traced shapes into Castiel’s back, cheek pressed up against his shoulder.

           “Y’know,” Dean said, “I… I’m having a hard time remembering anything before you kissed me.”

           “Is that a bad thing?”

           Dean leaned back; his face softer than it had looked in years. He shook his head, dropping it back down, and hiding his smile in Castiel’s neck. He felt Dean's heart beat thunderously against his chest, making him wish he had one of his own so they could match. Instead, he spread his grace over Dean, covering them both in its warmth.

           They stayed like that for the entire night.

[silviasutton1989]

T.T.K Chapter 10 “Resolved”

A/N: Hey guys...so this was supposed to be posted Thursday but life happened. I hope you guys are enjoying the story so far. Also I am posting some          mood music to go with this chapter feel free to play it at the beginning or end. I love you guys!

Rating: NSFW  (not  that bad but jut to be sure sexual content and course language)

Word Count: 2200~

Summary: Someone sets Apple wood Manor ablaze...who?

 Catch up: Chapter 1  1.2  2  3  4  5  6  7 8  9  9.2  9.25

A figure walks through the field of the apple orchard. He takes his time carefully dousing each tree with gasoline. He has been working on this for hours determined that his plan is fool proof. And it will be. Before spraying the final tree he plucks the biggest apple.

The camera is steady, and so is he as he sits in the designated spot, a lighter in one hand and what will be the very last Cordonian Ruby in the other. He has chosen each word to say. Making sure they are clear over his mask.

"I do this in initiation of The True Kings. Cordonia, my people King Liam will fail us just as his father has. We must turn to our true refuge. This fruit use to be a symbol of our pride; of the bonds that we hold together. Somewhere that changed and now this is only a rouse. So I employ you citizens join us or..." He flicks the lighter and drops it onto the dampened ground. In seconds the fire spreads, building its own carpet of flames, reaching up to the branches, and then very first tree is engulfed in flames.

He walks behind the camera making sure to focus in on the bright red fruit shriveling like flesh against the fire . He stops the recording walking into the darkness. The scent of the burning apples reminded him of how his mother baked her famous apple pie. He takes a bite of the only apple left. The bitter taste causing him to look at the fruit only to see a worm slithering out of it's core.

Liam had been laying in his bed for at least 20 minutes. He focused on the swirls in the marble ceiling above him. Opting to think on that than whatever in the hell happened last night. 

Eyes.

That's all he could remember from last night. The look in Drake's eyes last night were not of anger they were hurt. He hurt his best friend...his brother. Why?

Because you are just like your father!

Isaac... those were eyes of anger. In all honesty it never even occurred to him to give him the duchy back. Riley needed to be a noble...she NEEDED to be just in case...

Liam's cell phone rings on the nightstand. He turns over hoping the matter on the other end of that line could wait 5 more minutes. He needed to wrap his head around the night.

 Olivia....that look in her eyes when he kissed her....god why did he do that? Was it to compete with Isaac or... No the only explanation for that kiss was too much alcohol....Right?

The tap on the door springs Liam to life. Bastien enters without waiting for permission.

"Your Highness we have an important matter you must get dressed immediately"

"Is everything ok? What happened? Is it my father?"

The look in Bastian's eyes were grim giving Liam chills.

"It's Apple wood Manor, Sire. Everything...is gone"

Olivia had heard the news the same as all the other nobles on the unity tour. She sat in the dining hall--alone as usual--flicking at her fruit plate. Her phone buzzed simultaneously to everyone else's.

"Oh my god!!!" she heard someone say.

"They are going to kill us all!"

"I'm going back home."

The noble's all made a rush out the dining room as Olivia checks her phone. It was the Cordonian Times News Alert. A video pops up. A man in a mask...that mask, stands before the camera. She watches as he drops the lighter and the flames run through the field. She saw the beautiful apples crumble like paper and the fall to the depths of fire below. 

She could feel nothing but her heartbeat. Tears well up into her eyes, Olivia lets them fall since the room is now empty, giving herself exactly 1 minute and 35 seconds to wallow in her emotions, then she wipes them all away. Her heels click against the marble floor in haste, she can fix this, for Cordonia ...for Liam.

The hallway of the noble's sleeping quarters was in utter chaos. Men and women pulling out their half packed luggage calling for their limos to pick them up immediately. 

"Cowards! All of you are a bunch of cowards!" She yells hardly noticing that they all stop at her alarming tone. "You would leave Li-- your king knowing that he would never leave you all. You are pitiful...and you don't deserve him" She scoffs at the guilt stricken crowd, entering her room  letting the sound of her door slam be her final remarks.

Olivia rushes to her closet in search for the best suit determined to look strong when she stands behind her king even if she is the only one behind him. Her thoughts cloud her judgment and doesn't notice the figure in the dark corner of her room.

"You look beautiful, you don't need to change, Cherry."

Olivia turns to see Isaac his hands in his hair. He has drawn the blinds making it difficult to see him but his shadow still reveals his tired body splayed over her chair.

"Rough night?" Not give him time to answer as she searches through her clothes."The True Kings burned down the apple orchards... it's all over the news. Liam's going to have a press conference you need to get dressed. God you smell like you slept on the floor of a bar." And something else even from a distance she can clearly smell something else.

Isaac stands and walks over to her. He takes the hanger out of her hands tossing the suit onto the floor. 

"Do you remeber your 21st birthday? We went to every bar in a 20 mile radius of the university." He chuckles just thinking about that night.

"Yeah we spent the night watching the stars."

"That's not all we did." His hands snake around her waist, like instinct she wraps hers around his neck. His eyes are bloodshot, she wanted to mention the blonde he was with last night but, as his lips meet hers his scent is even stronger and the thought faded. His hands grip her tightly, slowly bunching up the skirt of her dress. He always knew how to make her shiver with just a touch...just a kiss.

"Isaac...we have to go...I have to help...AHH!" He bites down on her neck lifting her by her thighs holding her up against the nearest wall. She melts in his arms. Her fingers tangle through his hair, her mouth permanently agape as he grinds his hips into hers his length, even through their clothes, becomes more and more evident with each thrust.

He was wasting no time, his blazer from the night before lays on top of her pants suit on the floor. His hands runs to the back of her dress quickly unzipping it. She wants him , always has but...That smell. What was that smell? She knew way before she allowed herself to form the words.

Gasoline.

With every bit of strength she has she pushes her first love off of her.

"You did it. Didn't you?"

At first he tries to play it off. To laugh at her accusation. But couldn't form the words to lie and begins to pace the floor, hands tangled in his hair, rage growing with every step he takes.

"He thought it was resolved Liv...RESOLVED! He doesn't deserve that crown. And he doesn't deserve you!"

Like a blow to her chest the words send her to the floor.

He did this. Issac did this. How do I fix this? Why can't I EVER fix him?

But before he could help her she is back on her feet. "Don't you touch me. All this time? All this time! I thought you were going to help me find Boss.. and you just joined ---"

"We've been looking for that damn estate almost 2 months now. Has it even accrued to you that maybe Boss isn't one of the nobles that fled after the attacks...Boss could be one of the ones that is on this tour. Meaning.."

"Meaning we would have no reason to go to their estate." Isaac nods as she finishes his sentence. She needed to sit down, she needed a second to think, to make a plan to figure out what the hell should she do next. But Isaac grabs her hand pulling her from her thoughts.

"Come with me."

"W..what?"

"Come with me. we can find Boss make the bastard pay for taking you then..." He trails off his mouth opens but no sound.

"But what Isaac? Runaway with you... live with you? You are a True King now right? Liam's going to find out you did this and you want me to run off with you leave my country my duchy? For what? For you?"

"Liv."

"Get out of here before I call the gaurds."

He backs away from her, her eyes filed with disgust  as she holds her unzipped dress up to cover her chest. Picking up his jacket from the floor he walks to the door. But before he opens it he has to say it. To say the words that he has never said to her ever, the words he should have told her years ago.

"Olivia, I lov--"

"I hate you Isaac with ever fiber of my being get the hell out!"

The door closes behind him. She wants to cry to scream into a pillow, but she can't. No she gave herself 1 minute and 35 seconds to cry in the dining hall. Now she has to fix this, to support Liam, to forget about Isaac.

(Link)

The ride to Apple wood Manor was the grimiest 20 minute drive of Olivia's life. As if on their way to a funeral no on spoke, even Maxwell sat in stunned silence his mouth covered by his hands. Many of the nobles had already fled back to their homes, only a few remained to help and support their king.

"Come on guys, it's going to be ok. We are almost there and everything looks fine. the damage cant be that bad." Riley holds Drake's hand. Her friends look to her with hopeful eyes. But that hope is dashed only seconds later, when the smell of smoke and burnt wood fills the limo. The beautiful green leaves sway in the wind, soon turns to gray barren branches charred from the fire. 

"Oh my god!"

She believes the words came from Madeline but she can't be sure. Olivia keeps her head tillted toward the window, hoping that no one could see the tears falling from her checks.

The limo stops and everyone climbs out, all but Olivia, she can't move she cant see what Isaac had done...not yet.

Riley extends her hand out to her friend. "come on Olivia. We can do this together." 

"I just...I just need a moment. Go. The press are here to see you. Give them hell!" 

Olivia listens from the car. Liam and Riley give an inspiring speech one that the crowd and press rally around. Leaving the car, she makes her way to the front of the crowd and watches the two plant the first sapling.

With the last bit of dirt placed over the roots Riley looks into the crowd. Cameras flashing in her face her friends and the citizens all looking to her for encouragement..for happiness. All but two. There were two people focused on each other as they conversed: Drake and Kiara

"This first tree symbolizes.... Cordonia's commitment to keeping the doctor away!" Riley can see Maxwell snicker at the joke but no one else makes a sound.

"What did she just say?" a citizen asks

"She just made a joke on the worst day of our lives!" another cries.

"Do you think this is a joke? Our children starving amuses you?" another yells

"No I um...I was just trying to lighten the mood a little."

"Lighten the...who the hell do you think you are lady? This is our lively hood!"

"I'm sure Duchess Riley only meant to..." Liam tries to intercede but the crowd was restless. 

She didn't know what spured her to move. But there she was snatching the shovel out of Riley's hand taking the microphone from Liam confronting the agitated crowd.

"I know you are angry, we are too. I stand here before you vowing that we will have vengeance to the vermin who dared to destroy our rubies!"

"Yeah!" the crowd shouts, their cheers strengthen her nerves. She plants her feet firmly into the ground her voice grows more clear and resilient.

"People of Cordonia I promise you that this failed attempt to hurt us will only strengthen our unity. Lythikos has food and supplies currently in route and able bodies to help replant every sapling. You will not grow hungry, your family and lively hood will not suffer. Not today, not with your king here to defend you from those terrorists. This matter will be resolved...with interest!"

"All Hail King Liam! God save the King!" The crowd cheers. Olivia finally exhales. Liam thinking that her speech is over reaches for the microphone but she pulls back from him

"And one more thing, to the man---men that did this. You think you can fear my people into joining with you? Well know this you are dead wrong. Emphasis on dead! You can run You can hide but you messed with the wrong country. And we ARE coming for you! And may God have mercy on your souls"

The crowd erupts in cheers.

The press take photos of the two: Liam and Olivia. Olivia lifts the shovel into the air as Liam takes her other hand, looking at the woman beside him in a whole new light.

Let me know what you guys think in the comments below!!

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