#also fresh outta shower so that’s a towel on my head

[kaarnalaiva]

Bless us with some of you or that fine booty…

Cause the booty is bigger than the rainy clouds here…

🤍 love.

ask and you shall receive, also made me laugh so I’ll gladly post my tiny peach 🍑

[be-my-ally]

Splashing Around Ch. 2.

Chapter one can be found here.

So hello, welcome back to my lil cute, OC inspired a lot by Arlene (but also by my 50s dreams) cute kissing haven. I have to apologise for how short this is - it was taking me forever to finish the next section, so I've decided to break up what was one loooong chapter into two teeny tiny ones so his draft notice, army el, arguments and more kissing (basically all the good stuff I can't wait to share) to come very very soon!!!! 

I am, for those waiting on smut, cooking up a few things but I've been very, very, very, busy the past few weeks and can barely think about like, making a cup of tea, let alone putting words together in a way that makes sense so hang tight, it's coming.

wc: 3k.

sorry it's so short & so late - I think I've been promising *something* for like a month now, @whositmcwhatsit @thatbanditqueen, @ellie-24 @vintageshanny @missmaywemeetagain @from-memphis-with-love but hey, here's something! I'm hoping it'll set me off writing and posting again.

shirtless elvis 1957 inspo pic:

c. July 16th - August/September 1957.

Elvis grabs a covered plate from the kitchen island, still dripping wet, before whisking it up the staircase to the side, depositing them both in his bedroom. Louise hadn’t been up this way yet, she’d briefly been shown around when he’d wanted to show off to her and the other girls; they’d all ended up piled onto his bed, stroking his hair and talking, but somehow the intimacy of going up these stairs, with him alone, made her feel like it was her first time witnessing this private space. 

“Right, it’s uh,” He looks up and down at where she’s dripping onto the carpet, “probably for the  best if you go on through there again.” He points through to the dressing room, “there’s uh, there’s towels and uhh, soap and all of them things in the bathroom there if you want a shower or anything.” 

The storm crackles outside, but in the cushioned sound of the bedroom and dressing room it's almost impossible to tell, and Louise quickly busies herself, uncertain of how long Elvis would be preoccupied, and not wanting to keep him waiting. She does, however, take a little longer in the shower than she usually would - marvelling at the amount of hot water available that meant both of them could shower at the same time.

She’s carefully trying to roll her hair in her fingers, concentrating on her reflection in the mirror,  when Elvis pokes his head in, sidling around the door until she waves him in fully. She immediately regrets it, realising she’s only half-dressed, sat in her underwear and her blouse on but unbuttoned. 

“Oh - uh, Elvis! I’m not, quite, um ready for yo-” She watches him as he looks her over, he’s barely dressed himself, pants slung low on his hips, unbuttoned, and shirtless - but he’s entirely unself-conscious, holding the plate out to her, unlike the blush spreading across her body. She cringes a little, skittish, and he snaps himself out of it when he notices her nerves. He frowns, looking her over, and Louise feels the panic suddenly rising - is she not what he expected? He saw her in her swimsuit earlier…but it just feels different somehow now - maybe now, fresh-faced, she’s just not pretty enough? But he makes no comment on her body other than an attempt to ease her mind. 

“Thought I told you girls to settle, ain’t no-one gonna do anything you don’t want, sweetheart - won’t touch ya, I swear it.” She swallows, she hadn’t been scared quite in that way, but she would be lying if she said his words hadn’t reassured her. Louise nods, slowly, uncertain of what to say next, but Elvis takes care of it - striding over to place the plate on the dressing table, whisking the cover off the top. “There’s cookies there. Help yourself, I’ve already had a dozen waitin’ for you to get outta the shower.” 

“Oh! uh, I didn’t mean to keep you, I mean you could’ve just called - I didn’t mean to take -” She panics all over again, and he holds his hands up in an attempt to calm her,  

“No, no, honey, re-lax, just meant I was waiting for you to be done s’all.” He shakes his head,  “I promised you a blow-dry didn’t I?” He twists a strand of her hair in his fingers, “... how about I do yours and you do mine?” 

“Uh, yeah,” She swallows, “yeah that works.” 

His deft hands style her hair, but the whole time she can hardly breathe feeling his fingers against her scalp, finger-combing and gently twirling and twisting the strands of hair into some semblance of a do. She can’t take her eyes off of him in the mirror, a look of complete concentration on his face; almost a pout, with a slight furrow of his brow and his lips pushing forward as he focuses on his actions. 

The dryer prevents all attempts at conversation - which is lucky, because she wasn’t sure she’d be able to pay attention to a word he said, too focussed on trying to memorise the feel of his rings catching on a tangle - the tug somehow not feeling the same as when she brushes it, the sting making her shift in her seat, a dizzying feeling flooding through her body. 

“There.” Elvis finishes with the blow-dryer, fluffing her hair like she’s at the salon, looking back at her in the mirror. Miraculously, for all the ridiculous ways he was twisting and turning to do it, he’s managed to achieve a fairly respectable blow-out. “There we are. Now, look how pretty you look. Oughta do it for you everyday - could be my new career.” He puffs out his chest, clearly proud of himself and Louise laughs, 

“Hmm, I’m not sure all the other girls in the world would be pleased with that.” 

“Well I ain’t worried ‘bout any of them other girls, only you, baby.” He’s looking a little bashful, folding his arms across his bare chest. She can’t stop the blush, or the grin, from overtaking her face. She takes a second to respond, struggling to think of a reply, something that would make him feel as giddy as she does, when she’s suddenly knocked half off of the bench. Elvis sat down, bumping her with his hip. “Ok, my turn!” Louise obediently hops up, smiling at his playfulness, 

“Uh, ok - but I gotta warn you,” She nervously brings her hands up to touch his still-damp hair, it’s darker wet, but she can see where the dirty blonde is starting to shimmer through, “I haven’t ever dried a boy’s hair before, so, I might not do it very well and -” 

“You’ll do fine, doll,” He shakes his head at her, 

“Well, you might have to direct me,” His own smile grows wider, as if he’d expected she did this every weekend, and the knowledge that it was all new to her pleased him. 

“S’ok honey, I trust you.” She does her best, fingers pulling gently to hold the hair this way and that, as he constantly wiggles around in the chair; but she can’t help but get a little distracted by his expression in the mirror. By the way he seems to be practising posing, as if unaware she’s watching the whole time. His pouty lips going from a half-smile to a scowl to a lip raised in quick succession.

Louise thinks back to it, sat with her legs across Elvis’, on his new couch that he had been oh-so-proud to show off a week or so ago, of how lucky she was to be chosen like this, to be able to have thread her fingers through his hair, or watch him carefully comb it into place after it was dry; to be so close to him that she could see the acne across his neck, the remnants of a shaving rash on his lower jaw. How many girls could say they’d gotten to do this? But with that thought comes the sobering reality that it has to end at some point, and she’d rather not outstay her welcome…it’s probably time for him to get ready for dinner, or for entertaining whoever he’d invited tonight. 

“I’ve had a lovely day…thank you Elvis, it’s been really special…” She’s inching around the subject, she doesn’t want to leave, or for Elvis to say it’s time for her to go, but if he is she wants it to be from her prompting. She wants him to like her, desperately so, but she’s seen enough to know that she also doesn’t want to act too desperate, she wants to seem cool, and older than her years make her, mature about it all - aloof. She’s not though, and the relief she feels when he responds, 

“You ain’t thinkin’ about leavin’ me now are you?” while tucking her further under his arm and against his chest, is immeasurable. She’s safely cocooned against his torso, his freshly showered scent; shaving lotion, laundry detergent, and underneath it all him, the smell of all of it, along with the sound of the rumble of his voice in his chest, his heartbeat all mingling to solidify this memory in her head. Louise knows she won’t ever be able to smell any of the scents again, or hear another’s rumble or heart without picturing this moment in her mind. 

She spends the rest of the evening with his hand on her, on her thigh, her arm, her stomach - curled together and whispering to each other.  Even when some of the boys stop by - albeit briefly, no-one seems to be staying for dinner - he has a hand on her at all times, and no-one seems to blink twice at it. His lack of awareness of personal space, or perhaps of his lack of care about public physical affection completely understood. So, none of them question, even if Louise wasn’t Anita, why she was curled in his lap all evening, 

The other girls hadn’t materialised, some girls had, but not the girls. and Louise worried that it was intentional - that he was ashamed of her or something - was she meant to keep the day a secret? Worse to her than being kept a secret though was the thought that he might not consider her secret-worthy, and the fear that he might laugh her off is enough for her to keep her mouth shut from questioning him. So that night when she leaves, finally, long past midnight, despite her desire to, she doesn’t wait the last few hours until daylight and immediately call them, doesn’t get asked to be dropped off at Frances’ house, or stand beneath Heidi’s window waiting to be let in before crawling into bed with her - girl talk until the sun comes up. She wants to - god she wants to, wants to shout about it - wants to tell everyone that she’s just been on an honest-to-god date with Elvis Presley, that she’d kissed him. With tongues! But despite this desire, she’s almost too nervous to burst the bubble, the special bubble where only she knows; instead having to content herself with whispering the story to the stuffed bear tucked under her pillow - she’s much too old for him to be sat out in the open - or recounting it in as much detail as she dared to her journal.

She’d been sent home with the promise that he’d take her out for dinner the following night - but there’s a call about a change of plans; they’re all going to the cinema instead, Loving You was on the agenda,  and she arrives at Graceland that evening just in time for everyone to be piling into their cars, just barely making it in time for Elvis to smile at her, looking handsome as ever, captain’s hat on his head again and grab her wrist, pulling her into the back of his Cadillac with him. Louise tries her best to enjoy it as she might have done in the past, but she’s so worried about how to behave - if anyone can tell, worried about the other girls’ reaction; is she going to turn into some sort of social pariah? Ruin her chances for friends over a boy? Even if that boy were the only thing any of them truly had in common? And if that boy wasn’t just a boy, but a man, and Elvis at that. She can’t work out if it being Elvis makes it better or worse, so she sits there, primly, worrying her cuticles with her nails and her lips with her teeth. She watches as a tiny well of blood starts to form from where she’d pulled the skin a bit too hard and a bit too far - right to the quick, and she jumps as he covers her hand with his, pulling it out of her lap and onto his. He tuts at her, pulling out a handkerchief to rub at it, 

“Look at the mess you’ve made of that, stop picking at yerself darling. You’ll be sore for days.” She cringes, the desire is only made stronger by his holding of her hand, the worry that the others in the car might notice. They were sitting right there. But she complies, and is eventually soothed by the repetitive motion of his thumb on her palm. He lets go as they pull in, clambering out of the car almost before it’s even fully parked, seemingly anxious to get into the closed theatre. She tries not to be too disappointed at watching him run off with the boys without her, instead waiting for the other girls to climb out of the other cars, joining them in their excited giggling and chatting as they go in. Louise again has to remind herself to act normally, to join in their gossiping about how lucky she was, how excited they were for the film, and pretend she wasn’t a little upset watching him sit three rows ahead of them all. 

By the time the film is over they don’t bother staying for the double feature that had been set up for them, Elvis whisking the group away with the suggestion that even though it was dark out, it was still hot, and did they want to go for a splash in the pool? The night continues in that manner, Louise being seemingly steadfastly ignored, although she succeeds some of the time to forget about it. 

She’s not fretting in the shadows, she was just… taking a minute. He’d paid her no attention in the theatre, and the past half hour had been spent pretending not to be eavesdropping into the boys’ conversation, discussing Anita, singing their praises for her - as much as Elvis would allow - for her figure and face, and very briefly - her personality, before moving onto other girls; who from Hollywood they all wished Elvis would invite over, say, did you hear about that Venetia Stevenson girl coming in a couple of weeks? So on her way back out from the bathroom Louise felt like she was entitled to spend a moment or two in the shadowy corner by the back door. Taking a deep breath as she tried to remind herself not to compare, that maybe they spoke about them like that when they weren’t around. That sure, Anita might be a tiny little thing, but even she probably had to breathe in to button up her skirt - even if it was a smaller size. That, if nothing else, she wasn’t here with them all. 

She wouldn’t deny having had a good time, the film was wonderful, and the night as jolly as any, but still, she couldn’t help but wonder what had gone on that he’d decided to ignore her completely. She’s just getting to the point where she’s ready to return, a smile plastered on her face when suddenly, from the door, an arm reached out and pulled her back against the open door frame. Tugging her against someone’s warm body. She relaxes as soon as she recognises the smell and feel of him and he laughs as she stumbles against him, hands gripping both of her arms. He leans down, pressing a kiss to her cheek, open-mouthed, breathing on her as much as kissing her, before trailing his lips to meet hers. One of the boys shouts for Elvis, something about fireworks, and the next second he’s gone, barely a grin at her dazed expression, before he’s running off again. She can hear the way that the boys tease him about the lipstick smeared across his face, and his tight-lipped response. It makes her smile to herself, the way she has to try and catch her breath, still hidden in her shadowy corner, but no longer feeling invisible. And, though she wishes he’d pull her onto his lap or kiss her in front of everyone, she figures maybe it’s ok to keep it just for herself for the moment too. 

She doesn’t get the chance to see him alone again for a while, there are parties, and gatherings, and then he’s gone again - off on tour and to California for a long couple of months. Louise really tries to accept it all, even though the pictures appearing in the papers, and some of the stories that get relayed back (although never directly by Elvis) makes her heart hurt. It’s difficult, when he seems to look so happy in them, and so do the girls surrounding him - and who is she to judge another girl for feeling herself glow just by standing next to him. A little of his light reflecting onto them. 

One particularly brutal evening, after he’d promised to call but never did, she can’t help but cry into her pillow. This is why he goes for girls like Anita, ones that are a year or two older, they can cope with it. Louise shakes her head to herself - she can cope with it, she’s sure. She can deal. She can be mature, and deal with him out and about and kissing other girls. If Anita can, she can. Accept him inviting the starlets over, that’s fine, they’re only the toy of the moment, and eventually they have to go back to their own glitzy lives. They’re not like her, they don’t have an open invitation to his bedroom or to sit with his mother. But then, they do get private calls with him, and she knows Anita’s been telling anyone who’ll listen about the “just darling notes” he sends her.  Louise doesn’t get notes, sometimes he doesn’t even refer to her by name; simply just as part of the ‘girls’ he seems to always want to talk to as a group - all of them crowded around the receiver at Heidi’s house or Graceland. But then, rarely, sometimes, he slips into the conversation a little check-in, “How’s my lil’ Lou? Bein’ good for me doll?” and it makes Frances look at her in a calculating way, but her heart stutters every-time, every-time she responds

“Of course Elvis! Just waiting for you to come home. I can’t wait to see you.” He never replies the same way, it’s either

“Ah, who could miss this ol’ ugly mug,” or worst of all, “Uh-huh, looking forward to seeing the whole gang again soon.” On one occasion though, it was “Of course, honey, I’ll be seeing you re-eal soon,” and that was enough to give her hope all over again.

[kythed]

💕Hello! If it's all right was could I ask for a matchup? I'm a straight gal, 5'2" tall gal with pale skin and a thin form. I also have long brown hair, blue eyes and glasses.

As for personality, I'm kind, reliable and hardworking, though a little awkward in large social groups. I enjoy joking around and prefer looking at the bright side of things. My mbti is infj (and ennegram 9w1). I prefer my friends to be considerate and open-minded, someone who doesn't judge anyone by their first impression. I make a lot of bad jokes, so they need to have a sense of humour as well, or at least tolerance for mine😅

My biggest hobby is writing, which I think about almost around the clock. Fantasy and horror are my favourite genres to write, and for character inspiration I often do people-watching. I also sing, mostly in a choir, and go out for hikes in the nature because I love the fresh air and beautiful sceneries. My worst fear is letting people dear to me down and not being there for them in their time of need. I try my best to check up on them but sometimes I wonder if I'm doing enough . . .

My motto would be "If you're going to do it, make sure you don't have regrets later." as I strongly dislike leaving what I start unfinished. It makes me anxious.

My love languages are quality time, acts of service and words of affirmation. I'd like my s/o to know that I overthink often, that my silence doesn't mean I'm angry on uninterested but that I'm stuck in my own thoughts. A deal-breaker is definitely narcissism. Confidence is great but I don't like anyone who thinks the world envolves around them.

Thank you for taking time to read this! I hope it was all righ. Have a great day😊

——————————————————————————

thanks for the request ! i hope you enjoy :-)

- this was an incredibly easy choice for me; it just makes all around perfect sense-- I match you with kuroo tetsurou

- you need someone to keep you moving in the right direction because you burden yourself with way too much shit that shouldn’t even be your responsibility

- he helps you to identify what you really want in life and makes you pick n choose a couple of goals to focus on at once rather than doing everything and anything (something tells me you have a hard time prioritizing and saying no to people)

- you help him stop n smell the roses every once in a while because that man doesn’t know when to take a break

- you both share this incredible attention to detail and you both highly value and love getting to know other people

- he’s the one who booked you your first appointment with a publishing house once you finished your first novel and he used his death glare to scare the poor publisher into giving you a higher percentage of royalties on each sale

- SCRABBLE. y’all play a highly competitive game of scrabble every friday night and you always win. this typically culminates in kuroo throwing a tantrum and tickling you mercilessly until you agree it was “practically a tie” (nevermind the fact that you literally won twice the points he did)

- you love fantasy, kuroo loves sci-fi so your conversations are constantly peppered with ridiculous rants and arguments (e.g. “who would win in a fight, a dragon or a tie fighter?” “definitely a dragon babe, i mean it has fire and--” “okay but what if the tie fighter was piloted by a jedi?”)

- physical touch may not be one of your love languages but it sure is one of his-- he’s constantly got his chin resting on your head, or he’s slipping his hand around yours, or putting it on your lower back-- he also really loves giving you these crazy bear hugs (like picking you up and swinging you around type shit) because he likes to feel all big n protective

- I mean the man is literally almost a foot taller than you so can you blame him?

- you guys have literally the worst inside jokes that no one else understands but they send you into hysterics each times until you’re both crying with laughter (lots of terrible puns, yo mama and knock knock jokes that don’t even make sense)

- like once y’all were on a trip to rome and caught a cab to your hotel from the airport but then it took a wrong turn and it ended up that it actually wasn’t a cab and you had just climbed into the back of some little old italian man’s car

- so now whenever y’all are driving somewhere and accidentally go the wrong direction one of you says “mama mia!” in a terrible italian accent and you start screaming with laughter ITS LITERALLY SO OBNOXIOUS LMAOOO

- because you’re both so intuitive that the relationship is like being two halves of a whole-- you can instantly tell when the other is even the slightest bit down and adjust your behavior accordingly

- AND y’all remember the most random shit about each other

- like he once absentmindedly mentioned he loved this particular brand of orange juice and then you started buying only that brand to stock the fridge and he absolutely loves you for it

- and on your first date when you went hiking you pointed out a clump of flowers on the side of the path you thought were pretty so on the way back he secretly picked one and dried it in the pages of a heavy dictionary and got it framed for your birthday

- honestly it’s just little considerate things like this that make the whole relationship

- he always makes sure to involve you in group conversations because he knows it’s your tendency to be shy and hang back

- good conversation is a big deal for you guys but so is quiet time-- you frequently cook dinner together without exchanging a single word, just kinda doing your own thing (like you’ll chop the salad and he’ll make the pasta) and listening to your playlist

- speaking of music, you used to refuse to sing for him until one day he heard you singing in the shower so he crept right up next to the door and recorded it on his phone, and then when you opened the door he shrieked “AHA! CAUGHT YOU!” which nearly scared the shit outta you and made you drop your towel

- but, ya know, you don’t even need to be self-conscious about your singing around this man because he doesn’t have a musical bone in his body and will think that every single note coming out of your mouth sounds like an angel chorus

- overall you guys are that couple that is just so clearly in tune with each other, you know each other like you know yourselves and it’s such a delight to see (hanging out with you is a third wheel’s nightmare tho)

your song: first date by blink-182 (he loves punk pop and you think it’s dorky as hell but he’s adorable when he’s playing the imaginary drums and head banging-- he actually got you to accompany him on the air guitar eventually and it’s lit asf) plus the song perfectly captures the easy, eager way you guys love each other

your favorite movie to watch together: the fellowship of the ring. he wasn’t really into the idea at first (he wanted to watch terminator) but now he’s as big a tolkien fanatic as there is. once you brought him to one of those fantasy renaissance fairs and y’all had the time of your lives.

your relationship in one quote: “In all the world, there is no heart for me like yours. / In all the world, there is no love for you like mine.” - maya angelou

[darkredehmption]

Rough And Tumble

#SL #RoughAndTumble

Written by @DamagedBrother and @OfFeatherNFang

***

Malachi:

I wanted to groan at the feeling. As the final rays of sunlight caressed me, the shards peaking over the horizon, I filled my lungs and sighed. After days of trying to sneak past the diligent staff, the Brothers and the Chosen, I’d finally taken a moment to flip my switch, go invisible, and creep out to catch the last of a sunset. Even these precious few minutes fuelled me like no food, no blood, could alone. 

The relief was acute and sweet. I smiled as the last of the light glittered and twinkled, before turning into a twilight glow. It wouldn’t be long before the shutters of the building slid upward, before the household was wide awake and active, and my stream of visitors began. 

Not for much longer, though. As it was, I’d ditched the IVs, the oxygen, and just about anything else that could hobble me to the suite. Free of those, it had been that much easier to ghost my way up to daylight. After all, can you imagine an IV walking itself toward the exit? Yeah. No thanks.

Another plus were the doggen. Once they’d gotten the gist of me, and somehow taken my measurements while I friggin slept, I’d woken to fresh clothes, new boots. My old clothes had been pressed and neatly folded into my pack, which sat on a table in the PT suite, waiting for me. After checking in with my mahmen and reassuring her that I was fine and had, somehow, become a temporary resident of the Brotherhood, she’d said she would think about a return. Phury was tickled pink.

But I digress.

With my healing all but complete - and a little boost from that five minute tan doing wonders - it wouldn’t be long before I was, more than likely, politely asked to vacate the premises. Which was fair. I didn’t live here. I didn’t belong here. I was a hunter, and I needed to get back to the hunt. 

Even if some part of me ached and cringed at the prospect. 

Hitting the tunnel, I mulled over the ache, tried to feel out the cause of it as my brand new and astonishingly comfortable shitkickers hit the floor. It wasn’t like I didn’t have my own band of brothers out there; we were tight knit and if one called? The others answered. I was grateful that the messages on my phone hadn’t been bad news, or a desperate call for aid that I couldn’t provide. For the most part, everyone had been checking in. I’d relayed my status, and the state I was in, and if anything came up nearby, I’d be tapped.

So why did these Brothers, this band of warriors, give me the twisty gut feeling when I thought about leaving? And one specifically…

I stopped dead as I felt eyes on me, and belatedly realized I had not, in fact, gone ghost to return to the PT suite. Hiding a wince, I looked up from my musing into golden eyes. They narrowed ever so slightly, and I could see the question there: what was I doing out here?

“Hey. I was uh… gonna check out that gym you apparently live in,” I managed, my smile lopsided as I lifted a hand to ruffle my hair. “I mean, I’m feeling pretty good now so I figure I’ll be outta here soon. Gotta get that rematch in at some point before I go, right?”

Zsadist:

[I couldn’t help but think about the male in the PT suite. Our last conversation was cut off short and I had made an escape before it continued on. Though suddenly now I wanted to see him. Wanted to ask him more questions. There was something about him. He also didn’t seem to judge me like most do when they meet me. His eyes didn’t stare at the imperfections of my face constantly. He listened when I spoke and even spoke up about himself. Though I definitely felt like there was something big he was hiding. Which seemed to puzzle me. Hell as long as he wasn’t secretly working with the Omega we would be good. Which I find that hard to believe after he just risked his life to help save the Chosens. So what then? My thoughts drift to the shifter. What if...Malys was hunting them? Maybe that was the big secret. I paused when I heard footsteps, lifting my head to see said male walking down the tunnels. The fuck was he doing out of bed?! My gaze locks on his own when he catches me staring.] 

You should be resting. [I mutter as my eyes roam over him. He did look...better. Which causes suspicion to form. This male has been healing for days and now all of a sudden he’s looking better then ever. I raised a brow and tilts my head to the side as my eyes met his again.] You are keeping something from me. From my brothers. I don’t like it. [My distorted lip twitches as I incline my head towards the gym.] But anyway...by all means let’s check it out. [I eyed him up one more time before I turned to enter the gym with Malys close behind. Once inside I start to give a tour of the facility. It’s almost like he was a trainee.] 

So right when you come in there is this door to take you to the locker room. Inside is lockers, benches, a place to shower, and a steam room. The doggens always have fresh towels stocked as well as water bottles. [Points to the refrigerator. Then blinks. Why was I acting like he was staying? Maybe because I wanted him to, but why? What was this…thing causing me to act this way? Shaking the thoughts from my head as I start to move again.] 

We have treadmills…[Blinking I see a broken one that looked like someone ran it into the ground.] Rhage…[I mutter under my breath then snorts as I show you all the weights and different machines.] Just your normal gym. [My shoulders lift in a shrug as my eyes land on the mats. Beside them was a few punching bags.] I stay in this area a lot. I like to do a lot of boxing and what not. [Lifting my gaze to the male, slowly my eyes lowered.] Rematch huh? Not really fair with you being still hurt yeah? Or did you heal miraculously today? [I take a few steps forward, my eyes never leaving his.] Care to explain? 

Malys:

The male was looking at me with every lick of suspicion he possessed, and I honestly didn’t blame him. Earlier in the day I may not have been attached to every machine in the PT Suite that beeped, but I still looked pale and tired and like a good breeze might blow me down. Now? I looked like I’d just missed a good night’s rest. 

His declaration, that I was keeping something from him and the Brothers, punched through the attempted bravado I was conjuring, and for a moment I felt the weight of my confession on the tip of my tongue. Then he was pushing through the door, leaving me with the weight and beginning what sounded like a tour. I followed, my eyes tracking what he indicated, amused when I saw the destroyed treadmill. No surprises there. The males were massive and ran at life head first. Treadmills stood no chance. 

As we got to the boxing bags and equipment, I paused when he turned to me. All questions. All enquiry. I didn’t flinch, but I felt the desire to tell him. I wanted him to know. Even as every instinct continued to shout I had to protect my secret. 

“I think m’ doing a lot better,” I say calmly, glancing down at myself. “Maybe it was psychological? Maybe the Chosen blood finally kicked in?” I shrugged. “But I do feel better. No miracles required.

Stepping closer, I looked from the punching bag to the male and arched a brow. “If I’m not at full strength what would you like to do? Maybe you could show me a few things,” I suggest. “I’m pretty decent at disarming moves. Hand to hand.”

Looking across the room, I took in the mats that they had to be using for close quarters, hand to hand training. I took a step toward it, then another, a small smile of delight on my face. It’d been years since I’d done any training like this. It brought back my younger years, the times spent wrestling with human hunters and all of us drinking as we watched the stars after.

Turning my gaze back to Zsadist, I smiled, the words leaving my mouth before I could think about it. 

“I’m not at full strength, no, but if you’re in the mood I’m keen to stretch a little?” 

Zsadist:

[Snorts at the male. Was he serious? Did he think I was that stupid to believe that bullshit he just spewed. Something was not right here, but I ignored it. For now. Shaking my head as I eyed him up.] Slow your roll. We should start slow. I may be fucked up at times, but I’m not about to put you back into the hospital bed. Besides...I think my twin wants you to introduce your Mahmen to him. 

[Nodding as I move towards the punching bag. I give it a few good punches before I pull back and takes in a deep breath.] I mean…I know you probably have a life to get back to. The hunters...and what not. But...if your Mahmen moves in with the other Chosens. [Tilts my head towards the male.] Then what? [Slamming my fist into the bag, watching as it swings back and forth.] Those hunters...do they really need you? I mean…[Gritting my teeth as I curse under my breath. Why was I being so fucking stupid in front of him? 

I started to hit the bag a few more times, turning to face him. My hand grabbing at the hem of my shirt, tugging it up to wipe a bit of sweat off of my forehead.] What I’m trying to say is that you should join the trainee program. Fight with us. You clearly hate lessers just as much as we do. [My lip twitches, hand moving over my skull trim as I circle him slowly. From hitting the bag around I had an adrenaline rush going. Maybe a little bit of wrestling wouldn’t be so bad. He looked pretty healed to me. Stopping behind him, my eyes roam his body slowly]

Though you do seem to be pretty knowledgeable on taking down lessers. Let me ask you...what kind of weapons do you use when you hunt? [Slowly I take a step forward, calculating each move I make in my head beforehand. Fuck. Why was I so drawn to him? Why did I care if he stayed or not? Pushing the thoughts out of my head as I crouch slightly. Keeping my eyes trained on the back of his head.] 

Mal:

I fought the initial lick of tension; the idea of my mahmen returning to live in another man’s household irking me. But my mahmen hadn’t become the strong woman she was by retreating to another’s household. She’d built her home, her hunters lodge, and she ran it. Hunters respected her. Protected her. In turn, she cared for them. Patched them up and fed them. She would never walk away from that… right?

Watching the male lay into the bag, my eyes rake over him to take in his form, his skill, the force of his punch. I remembered it well enough - my face remembered it acutely. Listening to him, I bit back on my initial snarling reaction. Of course the hunters needed me. We were a family. A team, even when we operated alone. Yet I could see the male struggling with every word. 

“My mahmen created a life for herself away from here. She may visit,” I conceded softly, “but I doubt she will return. As for the hunters…” I took a breath, holding it and then letting it out slowly. “Even when we hunt alone we are a team. If I called, they’d come.”

It might not be the Brotherhood’s version of fighters, but we dealt with the monsters in the dark no one wanted to face and we did a damn decent job of it. Could I leave that, to stay here? The Brothers’ suggestion that I join the trainee program provokes so many reactions in me I struggle to grab onto just one. Then the male decided to flash his abs at me and my thoughts threatened to derail all over again. As the male paced around me, my senses seemed to heighten, my awareness of him acute. I didn’t bother turning to follow him, instead bracing myself, ready for whatever he threw at me. 

“Not to sound rude… but I’m not a ‘trainee’. I don’t need a babysitter,” I murmur, fighting the need to look over my shoulder, to track him with my eyes. “I’ve been hunting worse things than lessers for most of my life… and I hunt them with whatever works against them. Silver blades. Silver bullets. Rock salt shells in a shotgun. Whatever it takes,” I manage, the tension around us building. I wanted him to reach out, to try something. I wanted to show him I was no trainee. 

Zsadist:

[When his head turns I catch his gaze. Locking our eyes with a wide smirk, flashing my fangs. I dematerialize only to take form in front of him.] I know you aren’t...like the trainees we’ve had in the past. You are…[My eyes move over him.] Well past your transition. But sometimes it’s not always so easy with lessers. It’s not more so you learning to fight. It’s you learning how to fight with us. My Brothers and I are a well oiled machine and we face lessers like the other night constantly. Some nights are worse than others. [With that said I disappear again. Only to appear behind him now. 

Quickly I move forward. Lunging at the male to take him down. But it wasn’t as easy as I thought. He was quick. Faster than a lesser that was for sure. When he moved, I did. When I threw a punch he blocked and vice versa until I land a blow at his side. Though he was right there to hit me back with one. My eyes flashed an ever deeper golden hue. 

This was completely different then sparing with my Brothers. Sure, they didn’t hold back. But it wasn’t this intense, and not just in a fighting sense. There was this weird thing that seemed to linger around us and I didn’t understand it at all. None of this made sense but didn’t want it to end. I wanted more. So much more. For the first time in a long time I felt alive. 

When I feel a punch to my face I couldn’t help but let out a powerful growl. My fangs were fully elongated and out on display for him to see. His scent was all around me. Sounds of us panting fill the air mixed with the thumps of his heart. I lick my fangs before I land another blow to his side, one hand gripping at his arm. Holding him in place as I repeat the hit. My head snaps up to lock our eyes. He was looking at me with the same intensity that I was. Who were you Malys? Fuck. Why was this happening to me? To us? Nothing made sense right now but I knew one thing was for sure. I didn’t want him to leave.]

Mal:

Something about having the male’s golden gaze rake over me makes my skin hot, everything tingling in anticipation, though of what I still didn’t know. As he demats back and forth, I can’t help but feel a pang of envy. It’s the one vampiric trick I wish I possessed, but no matter how much my mahmen coached me as a child, I’d never succeeded. 

“Sure, but your trainees here aren’t just learning how to work with you, are they? They’d be learning how to hold a gun and fire it. I don’t need any of that. I don’t need a rehash of my life.”

Since the race had only ever relied on the Brothers for protection, unless self taught, almost every trainee that applied would be learning everything from scratch. Hand to hand combat, knife combat, firearms - all of it. Meanwhile, I had all that, and I wasn’t about to sit in a classroom or stand around a boxing ring relearning shit I knew. 

I felt his presence at my back as he moved again. It was like energy, charged and electric with its intensity. As Zsadist moved, I moved, and the last few days of lying in a hospital bed were forgotten as I made my body react to every hit he delivered. Fighting with the male was different than fighting with anyone else - my heart pounded, my body moved like it never had before, and I was grinning again. Grinning at taking hits, grinning at the feel of his body moving in sync with mine. We’d gone from the prospect of mild disarming to no holds bar.

His hits struck home, the breath almost knocked out of me, and then his eyes were meeting mine. As lightning leapt down my spine, I moved. I seized the wrist of the hand that’d been laying into my ribs and twisted, drawing the male in a swing over my shoulder that took him to the floor. I followed, locking the wrist, my body weight on his as I grinned down at him.

The spark leapt between us again. My heart skipped. For a moment we lay there, panting, the warmth of him searing up into me as every part of me wanted more. I felt relaxed and supercharged all at the same time. His golden eyes were hypnotic as I stared into them. 

My back muscles spasmed. I jerked away from the male, releasing him from the wristlock as alarm replaced the grinning joy of the moment. I fought the surge of my wings from coming into existence. Looking away from Zsadist, from the brilliance of that gilded gaze, I felt my own eyes flickering, the divine threatening to emerge at being so relaxed. What was this Brother doing to me? I’d never struggled with the control of my divine nature. Yet it wanted to emerge now? Fuck!

“Sorry,” I managed, taking a deep breath and pushing it back, pushing everything down. “Something’s aching. You got a few good shots in there. Nicely done…”

This male… what the hell was he doing to me?

Zsadist:

[When I got taken down by the male my eyes went wide. Fuck. Gasping for a breath as I stare up into his intense eyes. What was going on here? And then I felt it. That spark that I had felt before with him. It was a weird feeling. A tingling all over my body before a warmth spreads through me. Everything was on fire and I somehow wanted more. But just as I was about to lean in he pulled away and brought me back to reality. 

I watched as he gave an alarmed look. Like he didn’t want what just happened to happen. And of course why would he? I was disgusting remember? My demons laughed at me. Surrounding me in a circle as they all just pointed and laughed like I was only a few inches tall. Shaking the thoughts from my head, lifting my gaze to the male for a brief second.] 

It’s fine. [I manage to get out. Avoiding his gaze now as I look around the gym. Lifting my shirt once again to wipe the sweat that had taken resident on my forehead. I needed to get out of here and fast. But I couldn’t just ditch the male. Not yet at least. Not after that. It would be awkward as hell.]

Weapons. [I blurt out. Keeping my gaze away from him as I move us out of the gym and over to the room across the hallway. Once inside I take in all the guns wishing I could just take one to my head right now and end all this. Ha. Yeah I was fucked. Scrubbing a hand over my scarred face.] 

Here is where we keep everything. Um...there is a shooting range too if you wanted to try anything out. Guns are handy but I enjoy using my daggers the most. [I was rambling. Scribe make it stop. Pinching the brim of my nose as I let out a breath. I wished another Brother would come in. Please. Hell I’d take Rhage right now over this. Making my way over to the wall of weapons. I opened a few drawers to show him the countless bullets we had on stock.]

There is also throwing stars and some knives. Though the ones that the Brothers and I wear on our chests are different. Vishous hand makes all of them. He is...very talented when it comes to that shit. Getting a weapon made by him is an honor. [Nodding as I lift a hand to rub at my own chest. It was hard to focus on anything right now. Fuck I hope he would take one of these weapons out for practice and I could just leave. Not deal with him ever again. Just completely avoid him until he left the property.]

Mal:

Fuck me. Can we say awkward? I could feel my skin tingling, the muscles twitching in anticipation of flight, as I fought back the urge to fly and followed on two feet. Giving the weapons room the cursory once over, I resisted the urge to pick up a gun, a clip, and vent some of my current frustration right into a target. 

Side eyeing the male as he led me around, I felt a flash of guilt at having turned the tables on him so abruptly. By the set of his shoulders, the way he avoided meeting my gaze, he was probably rightly ticked off with me. I wanted to curse anew as I struggled to find that easy camaraderie we’d had minutes before. But really, what was I going to say? How were our lives even remotely similar to find a common ground conversation?

This compound with its huge facilities and endless supplies was nothing I’d ever experienced. Sure, I could pick up these weapons and shoot them with deadly accuracy, but no gun I’d ever had had been shiny and new, gleaming chrome and black with an endless supply of bullets. My daggers had never been black, or made by a centuries old vampire with a knack for weapons crafting. Hand-me-downs, and pawn shops and sharpening the oldest blades until they could cut like a katana instead of a chainsaw… that was the life I knew. Not this… mansion of expensive tech.

“So crystal eyes makes things that are sharp and pointy,” I said instead, my voice miraculously even. “Seems fitting to his personality type. Do you all have something like that that you do? Some kind of talent?” I wonder, looking around and pulling at my shirt, running a hand over the nearest weapon, before stuffing the wandering digits back into my pants pockets. 

“Did I smell chlorine as well? I mean, not that I should be surprised. If it turned out you guys had your own space station I wouldn’t really be shocked,” I muttered, shaking my head and lifting a hand to rake through my hair, looking down. “You guys are… a far better equipped operation than anything I’ve ever been a part of. I’m pretty sure these clothes the doggen got me are the first time I’ve ever worn something that wasn’t a hand me down or from an op shop.”

Forcing a laugh, I shrugged and turned toward the door. “Oh well. The cards we’re dealt right? Maybe I should go take a swim…”

And hope to fuck it was cold water. Maybe that’d clear my head, help me cool off. Because being around Zsadist wasn’t making things clearer; if anything, I was more confused than ever about who I was and where I was supposed to be. 

Zsadist:

[When he mentions a pool, I raise a brow.] Yeah there is a nice pool. An indoor one and one in the backyard. But it’s closed right now for fall. Though I do believe the ah...hot tub is still running. Yeah. [Scribe, I was so awkward around him. What the fuck just happened in the Gym just now. Why did I have to scare everyone away from me? Scrubbing a hand back and forth across my scarred face before I clear my throat.] 

I think it would be best if you got some rest. Probably should head back to the PT suite. You don’t want to overdo it. True? [I let my eyes meet his one time. One last time. Cause after this I knew that it wouldn’t be smart to continue to see him. He probably was going to leave soon and that would be the last of this male. He had a family and a job to do elsewhere. Holding his gaze for a heartbeat before I peel my eyes away. I let out a soft breath before I turn and practically ran out of the room. 

I head down the tunnels quickly. Hoping that he didn’t pop his head out to say something or try to call me back. It was done with...whatever it was and I needed to focus back onto the Brotherhood and not some random male. Once I make it into the supply closet I pause. There was an ache in my chest. I didn’t understand what was doing with me. What...was this? Lifting a hand to rub my palm over my chest. Leaning against the wall my eyes crack open wide as I hear a door open. Shit no. My eyes rest on bright teal ones. Rhage. He looked at me with a frown. “Z…? You okay?” I quickly nod my head.]

Yeah. I’m good. Um. I think I worked out a little too hard. Speaking of...did you break a treadmill? [I needed something to get the conversation off of me and on to him. Rhage’s cheeks turn slightly red then he grins. “Guilty. But in my defense Mary followed me to the Gym and was looking sexy as hell as she entered the room.” Of course. His mate. Most of the Brothers had mates to come home too. Not me. Nope. And I was completely okay with that. It wasn’t in my cards. Wasn’t meant for me. Even though Phury still tried to push for it every chance he got. Nodding my head at the Brother as I push my thoughts away.] 

That’s fine. Just don’t break anymore, yeah? [He blinks then smiles slowly. “Okay Z. Don’t work yourself too hard.” His large hand landed on my shoulder and I didn’t expect it. I wasn’t prepared for it. My whole body stiffens and I felt the darkness started to consume me. He blinks then quickly removes his hand. “Z...I…” Slowly he frowns and before I can speak. Before I can tell him that it’s not his fault. That I’m the one who is fucked up. I run. Moving quickly out of the room, disappearing to my bedroom where I would spend the rest of the evening.]

Mal:

Zsadist met my eyes again. I felt my heart skip a much needed beat. Then he was turning away and leaving, his feet pounding the pavement to carry him out of the weapons room and back into the tunnel. In seconds, I knew he was gone. 

I didn’t doubt it was thanks to me. My weirdness had definitely rubbed the male the wrong way, and I couldn’t blame him for wanting to get as far from me as he could. The one person in this manse I actually liked to see, and I’d made sure the guy wouldn’t want anything else to do with me. 

Well fucking done Malachi. God damn divinity. 

Shaking my head, I forced myself to walk out into the hall. A stir of the air had me glancing sideways to see Rhage coming toward me. The male was huge and beautifully so; almost unfairly attractive with all the hair and blue eyes and white teeth. Stuffing my hands into my pockets, I inclined my head on the male’s approach. Rather than say anything, he fell into step beside me as I made my way back to the PT suite.

“Taking the tour?” he ask as we reached the door.

I gave an absent nod, still thinking of the last look in those golden eyes.

“Zsadist was showing me the firing range. And the gym. I told him I wanted a rematch,” I managed a rueful smile, one hand on the door as the other went to my ribs. Thankfully the stitches and everything else had come out, only a faint pink line remaining. Z’s hits had left an ache though. One that seemed to stretch up to my chest as well. “The male certainly packs a punch…”

Those teal eyes looked at me, and it was a different kind of look than the one Z had given me. Something considering and curious as a stunning smile curved his lips. Then he was clapping me on the shoulder. 

“Yep. That’s Z. Glad he was showin’ you the place. Glad you’re back up on your feet too. You’ll be just about ready to head out soon, yeah?”

I paused for a moment, then gave a short nod. 

“Most likely, yeah.”

Rhage tilted his head, blonde falling before the blue of his gaze. “You don’t sound keen.”

“No, it’s not that~”

“Maybe,” he interrupted, smiling as he half turned to head back to the gym, “you should talk to Wrath. I mean, incase you want to stay in touch. Help out. Consider the program?”

He gave me a look, and I suspected it was the kind of look that made lesser creatures swoon. And hey, don’t get me wrong, if golden eyes weren’t still taking up ninety percent of my brain space right now, I’d have been more into it. But right now, it just made me pause… and actually think about what he said.

“...yeah,” I said finally, nodding slowly. “Maybe I will.”

[blindfoldedsurprises]

Debating

“Why did you take me here?”

“Why not?”

David: Baby, can you meet me at 6?

Y/N: Sure, where?

David: Your most favorite place in Los Angeles

Y/N: Okay! Will I see you before then?

David: Probably not, sorry

Y/N: This better be one epic and complex prank/paintball shot Dobrik

David: I love that you automatically think that😂😂

Here’s to hoping he’s talking about the Bel-Air Country Club. That is where I had my first collegiate win and where I made a name for myself shooting the club record. That’s also where I worked my first job and where I met David. I have so many amazing memories there.

I end up staying in the clothes I wore to bed most of the day until about 3. I decided to go ahead and take a shower with Read Southall Band at full blast. Listening to them reminds me of home and my childhood. I get lost in the music and end up dancing around with just a towel on for 30 minutes. I look at the time and it says 4:18...perfect time to use the free Chipotle for a year card.

My food arrives 30 minutes later. A steak burrito with white rice, black beans, queso, sour cream, lettuce, cheese, and tomatillo hot sauce. At 5 I decide to finally get dresses. I chose a short bodycon black dress with black thigh high boots. It didn’t take me long I figure out what I was going to wear, that outfit is David’s favorite. I did my makeup, straightened my hair, and put my mother’s childhood ring on. (A/N: I may mention a mother’s ring a lot in my stories. I finally have my family’s heirloom and it is so pretty, but so fragile.) At 5:45 David texts me saying that there is a Lyft waiting outside for me. Lucky for him I was ready.

The driver greets me through the open front passenger side window with a welcomed, “Oooh baby you look amazing! Where did you get those fabulous boots honey?” I chuckle. We talk about food, travel, and relationships. We also come up with theories about what might happen tonight. “I have a pretty good idea as to what might happen,” the driver states. “Huh? How?” I question. “Baby I know where you are going. It’s some off the wall place so it must have some type of meaning or else you need to dump David,” he replies. Before I can say much else, we arrive. He turns around in his seat and says, “Good luck doll. You look gorgeous. Go and have a wonderful night.” I thank him for everything and give him a $20 dollar cash tip.

I stand on the sidewalk bewildered. It is just a park with a view of West Hollywood. I start scanning the area more, suddenly being more and more worried about where I am. I call David. “Hi. Um..where are you? I’m alone and the sun is setting,” I asked with a hint of scaredness in my voice. “Hang on. I’ll be right there. Don’t get too scared on me,” he responds with a light chuckle, “Give me 5 minutes baby.” He hangs up and I lean on a light pole, scrolling through my phone.

“GOTCHA!”

I turn around lightning fast and slap the daylights out of whoever it was and make a run for it, which is quite hard with heels and boots that restrict knee movement.

The person yells back, “Woah, woah babe it’s just me. Calm down. Were you that scared?”

Fuck. It’s David. I should’ve know it was him. “Oh god, sorry. And yes I was that scared. Why would you sneak up behind me like that?”

“Well I didn’t think you’d react like that.”

“And you’ve known me for how long?” I question as I start making my way back towards him. Once I get to him, I hold his hands and kiss his check where I slapped him. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he replies lightly, “So how bout we go and have an amazing night?” I smile up at the goofball and he leads me to his special spot. After about 5 minutes of waking, he stops and says, “Ok you gotta cover your eyes now.” “I knew this is how I’d go. Make sure my friends get their lazy butts up to the funeral okay?” He rolls his eyes and laughs, but I oblige. He grabs both my hands and walks some more. He moves his hands for a moment and Perfect starts playing. “Open.”

As I’m looking around, it’s something that happens in dreams and on T.V. Shows. String lights hang above us like a canopy, soft music plays in the background, champagne is chilling in an ice bucket with glasses ready to be filled, a large outdoor blanket, a big bowl of hot and fresh spaghetti, and a beautiful view of all of L.A., at sunset.

“Dav-,” my voice breaks out, “this is perfect. How’d you do all of this?”

“A great boyfriend never reveals his ways,” he gives me the goofiest smile I’ve ever seen.

“Oh wa-wait a minute. You’ve got your camera, a cliff, a beautiful view, a gorgeous girlfriend, and great clickbait,” I pause, “I’m getting pushed off this fucking cliff aren’t I?”

He breaks out laughing. “No, I’m serious! Why’d you bring me here?” I start questioning.

“Why not?” He answered.

“Because this isn’t the David I know. You usually aren’t some helpless romantic. It’s usually I love you, here’s a car or flowers, and the smile for the clickbait!”

“Now I’m tempted to push you off....” He ponders out loud. I playfully punch him in the arm laughing.

“The reason I brought you here was to give you this.” He reaches inside his left pocket and gets down on one knee. My breathing faultes a bit. “Y/N L/N, the amazing, gorgeous, smart, talented, funny, smart ass, Y/N L/N. I love everything about you. Especially the so called “flaws” you hate about yourself. You are you and you are spectacular. Y/N, will you marry me?” I’m almost shaking at this point, and with my hands cupped over my mouth I aggressively shake my head yes. He bounces up and hugs the livin daylights outta me. Once we somewhat settle back down, he grabs my left ring finger and slides the silver diamond ring on. He engulfs me in yet another hug.

As we pull away I ask, “Two things. One: Let’s pop the top on that champagne! Two: Does this mean I’m stuck with you for the rest of my life?”

“Hell yeah! And yes, best of luck to you. I can hardly deal with myself as it is,” he retorts jokingly.

“I love you.”

“I love you too babydoll.”

[turtle-steverogers]

Back Home

this is bad. its also like midnight.  why do i write late at night, it just makes it bad.  it be like that.  this is also really fluffy tho so yay dad ralbert is back

ship: ralbert

warnings: vomit mention

editing: nuh uh

“Papaaaaaaaa!” Race braced himself for impact as his son, Andrew, barreled into him, knocking him backwards into his husband, Albert.

“Lovely to see where your loyalties lie,” Albert smirked, steadying Race before lugging their shared suitcase in behind him.  Andrew giggled loudly, detaching himself from Race and moving to latch onto Albert instead.  They had gone for the week on a short trip to Washington DC to teach a few masterclasses at the National Theatre.  Spot, their best friend and godfather to their kids, had offered to watch Andrew and Emelia while Race and Albert were gone.  Although, as Race looked around his apartment, there was no sign of Spot, or his daughter for that matter.  He frowned, concern bubbling in his stomach, but his son’s excited voice brought him back to the present.

“Missed you guys!” Andrew exclaimed, making grabby hands at Albert, who hoisted the five year old onto his hip.

“We missed you too, champ,” Albert grinned, smacking an exaggerated kiss to Andrew’s cheek, “Did you have a good time with Uncle Spottie?”

“Yeah!” Andrew said, squirming to get out of Albert’s hold and reaching his hands out to Race instead.  

Race seamlessly took Andrew away from Albert, shifting him onto his hip instead, “I’m glad you had fun, dude,” he said, finally walking to the couch to set down his carry-on bag, “Where are Uncle Spottie and Emelia, though?”

“Me and Em’s room,” Andrew said, matter-of-factly, “Em isn’t feeling good.”

Albert frowned from where he was unzipping their suitcases to put their jackets away, “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” Andrew nodded seriously, “She was puking all day!”

Race and Albert exchanged concerned glances behind their son’s back, “Alright, bud,” Race said, putting Andrew down, “Why don’t you go with Daddy to get washed up and I’ll go check on your sister, alright?”

Andrew nodded and hurried off in the direction of the bathroom.

“You good with that?” Race asked Albert, who was already grabbing a fresh towel from the hallway closet.

Albert made waved a dismissive hand, “I got him, go make sure our daughter isn’t dying.”

Race furrowed his eyebrows, “That was dark.”

Albert shrugged and hurried off to wrangle his son before he flooded the bathroom.  Race kicked off his shoes and headed in the direction of his children’s bedroom.  As he got closer, he could hear the unmistakable sounds of retching coming from the other side of the door.  He knocked lightly before entering.  

“Hey,” he greeted softly.  Spot was sitting on the edge of the bed, one hand on Emelia’s back.  His daughter looked incredibly weak and was leaned over the side of the mattress, vomiting violently into a trashcan.

Spot looked up when he entered and offered Race a tired smile, “Heya, Racer, how was DC?”

“It was pretty good,” Race said, “Only lost Al once on a segway tour,”

Spot scoffed, “Wouldn’t expect anything less from that idiot.”

“He was easy enough to find,” Race said before diverting his attention to his sick daughter, “What’s wrong, bug?” he asked, kneeling in front of Emelia and pushing a few strands of sweaty hair away from her forehead.

“Don’ feel good,” She managed, gagging again and pitching forward towards the trash can.  Race looked up at Spot, who was frowning at Emelia sympathetically.

“Poor thing’s been throwing up since 10:00 this morning,” Spot said, “Tried to call you and Al, but I couldn’t reach you.”

“Has she just been throwing up, or..”

Spot nodded, “Yeah, mostly.  Complained about being achey, too.  I’ve been taking her temperature throughout the day, but it’s been normal.” Race relaxed a bit, “Okay, good.  Thanks, Spottie.”

“You gonna take her to a doctor?” “I’ll probably make an appointment tomorrow sometime.”

Spot hummed approvingly, right as Andrew, followed by a rather flustered looking Albert, busted through the door, wearing his duck wrap around towel.  Albert’s shirt was soaked and Andrew still had shampoo in his hair.  Race and Spot cast questioning glances to Albert, who simply shrugged.

“One second, we were shampooing, the next he was running,” Albert said, wringing out his shirt onto the carpet.

“Stop that,” Race scolded.  Albert held his hands up in mock surrender.

“What’s wrong, bud?” Race questioned Andrew gently, who looked slightly overwhelmed by the cluster of people in the room.

“I didn’t want Uncle Spottie to leave without saying goodbye,” He said, lower lip starting to tremble.

“Hey, whoa,” Spot said, finally moving from his spot on the bed to squat in front of his godson, “I wasn’t gonna go nowhere without saying goodbye, champ, but why don’t we finish getting you washed up first?”

Andrew nodded, then turned to look up at his fathers with pleading eyes, “Can Uncle Spottie finish helping me?”

Albert and Race raised their eyebrows, amused, “I don’t see why not,” Race said, “We’d better be careful, Al.  Spot might just steal our children away from us.”

Spot picked Andrew up, skillfully avoiding his soapy hair, “I might just,” he said as he left for the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

“How’s she doing?” Albert asked, his question punctuated by another retch from Emelia.  He winced, “Not so good I take it?”

“Yeah, we should take her in tomorrow,” Race said, perching himself next to Emelia on the bed, “No fever, though.”

“That’s good,” Albert said, sitting in a straddle on the floor beside the trash can.  He reached up to rub Emelia’s shoulder, “Hey, sweet pea.”

“Hey, Daddy,” Emelia said, shakily.

“Did you have a good week?” Emelia nodded and Albert smiled, “I missed you and Andrew.”

“Missed you, too,” Emelia said, yawning.

“Getting tired?” Race asked.  Emelia nodded, eyelids drooping, “Alright, pea, let’s getcha changed outta these sweaty clothes, then you can sleep.”

“Uncle Spottie still here?” Emelia asked, sleepily, as Race helped her into a new nightgown that Albert had gotten from her drawer.

“Yeah, I’ll make sure he peeps in to say goodbye, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Do you want me or Daddy to stay with you while you fall asleep?” Race asked, tucking her back into bed.

“Daddy,” Emelia said, reaching out for Albert, who took Race’s place on the bed.

“Alright, princess,” Race said, leaning down to kiss her on the forehead, “I love you, goodnight.”

“Love you, too,” Emelia curled into Albert’s side, “Can you read me a book?”

“Sure, love,” Albert said, petting a hand through her hair, “What book?”

“Jack and Annie!”

“Alrighty, did Uncle Spottie start a new one with you?”

“Yeah, the one with the leprechaun,” Emelia said.  Albert nodded and turned to ask Race to pass him the book, only to find that his husband was already holding out Magic Tree House, Leprechaun in Late Winter, for him.  

“Thanks, babe,” He smiled, taking the book and tilting his head back slightly for a kiss.  

Race bent down and pecked him on the lips, “Yep.  I’ma go check on Spot and Andrew.”

“Sounds good,” Albert said, opening the book and beginning to read out loud.  Race took the trash can Emelia had been using and left the room.  Spot and Andrew were sat at the kitchen counter, playing with Andrew’s Hot Wheels.  It looked like Spot had successfully gotten Andrew ready for bed, because he was no longer soapy and was sporting his favorite Star Wars pajamas.

“Papa, come play!” He declared, crashing his car into Spot’s, who let out a noise of fake offence.

“That is no way to treat Mr. Speedsy,” Spot said, hugging the black car he was holding to his chest.  

Andrew shrieked with laughter and Race smiled at the scene in front of him, “I think playtime is over,” he said, crossing over to the other two, “Uncle Spottie has to get home and you, Mr. Hot Wheels, need to get to bed.”

“Five more minutes?” Andrew pouted, sticking his bottom lip out.

“Nope, it’s time to call it a night,” Race said, firmly, “C’mon, bud.”  He plucked his son out of the kitchen chair and used one hand to put the Hot Wheels back in their box.

Spot followed them to the kid’s bedroom, stopping in the doorway and watching as Race tucked Andrew in, “Bye Andrew, bye Em,” he called quietly.

“Bye, Uncle Spottie,” Both children said in unison.  

Race crossed to the doorway and pulled him into a brief hug, “Thank you so much for watching them this week, man.  Seriously.”

“Yeah, we appreciate it so much,” Albert said, also standing to hug Spot, “Lunch tomorrow?  Our treat?”

“Sure,” Spot smiled, “And it’s no problem.  It’s always a pleasure to watch the munchkins.  Take care you two and I hope Emelia feels better.”

“We’ll see you tomorrow, thanks again,” Race said, clapping him on the back.

“Bye.”

“Bye, Spottie.”

They watched as Spot let himself out of the apartment, then turned back to their kids.

“You go get ready for bed,” Albert said, “I’ll finish up with them.”

Race sighed gratefully, the exhaustion from the week finally hitting him, “Thanks.”

“I’ll be in soon,” Race shot him a thumbs up and left to change into his pajamas, opting to shower in the morning.  

Twenty minutes later, as promised, a tired looking Albert climbed into bed next to Race, who bookmarked his book and wrapped his arms around his husband.

“They out?” He asked into Albert’s hair.

“Like lights.  I got Emelia a fresh trash can, too.”

“Awesome,” They lapsed into silence, breathing in each other’s presence blissfully.

“I love this, you know,” Albert said after a few minutes.

“Hm?”

“This,” Albert gestured vaguely, “All this domestic shit.  I love it.”

Race smiled, warmth spreading through his chest, “Yeah,” he murmured, “I love it, too.”

-

thanks for reading, chiefs

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[winterwitch611]

Forgive Me

Parings: Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton

Summary: Bucky’s temper flares and he takes it out on Clint. 

Word Count: 1157

“Can you not?”

“C’mon Buck, lighten up,” Clint says as he continues to throw a ball against the wall.

“I asked you nicely. If I have to ask you again we’re gonna have a problem.”

Clint has been trying to get under Bucky’s skin. It’s glaringly obvious. He’s playing with fire, but doesn’t seem to care. This is probably not going to end well.

“And another thing, stop calling me, ‘Buck’. I told you there’s only one person that calls me that and you are definitely NOT him.”

Clint is lonely and a little worried. Steve and Natasha have been on a mission for almost a month now. There has been zero contact. Bruce, and Tony, have been locked in the lab working on something world changing, or so they say. Sam, is visiting family and Thor is, well, no one knows where Thor is at the moment.

In order to distract himself he’s been trying to annoy the shit out of Bucky, at least that way he’ll pay attention to him. They can go days without speaking to each other even though they live under the same roof. In true childish fashion, Clint figures negative attention is better than no attention at all.  

**Thump**  **Thump**  **Thump**

“That’s IT!” Bucky jumps up from his chair. It crashes to the floor, Clint flinches at the sound. “I know what you’re trying to do. It’s not gonna work. I don’t have anything to say to you. I don’t wanna talk about how it’s killin’ me that I haven’t heard from Steve. I don’t wanna sit here and “drown” our sorrows together. I just want to eat my dinner in peace and go back to my floor. Is that too much to ask, or are you so stupid you can’t take a hint?!”

The look on Clint’s face as he finishes his tirade is heartbreaking. His mischievous smirk is gone. He bites his bottom lip. His gaze goes to the floor for a moment then to Bucky. “I guess I am stupid. I thought you could use a friend. I was wrong.” He turns, takes a couple steps and stops. “Cold blooded killers don’t need friends, do they? My mistake. Have a nice night.”

Bucky is stunned. He can’t believe what he just said to Clint, he didn’t mean it. He’d never hurt him on purpose. However, what Clint said to him was downright cruel. This is getting way out of hand. The only reason he was trying to distance himself from the archer was because he finds himself attracted to him. If he gets too close, slips up and reveals his feelings, he could lose everything. Between not hearing from Steve and now the fight with Clint, his temper is flaring. The small amount of control he thought he had over his emotions is slipping away.

He heads to the gym. He’ll take it out on a punching bag, or three, so he doesn’t take it out on the walls. An hour later, he’s covered in sweat and his knuckles on his right hand are bleeding. Of course he didn’t stop to wrap his hand, that would have been the smart thing to do. However, logic doesn’t live here today. It’s not like the damage won’t be healed by tomorrow morning anyway, so no big deal.

Bucky feels terrible about how tonight went. If he could take it all back he would. As strongly as he feels he might owe Clint an apology, the archer damn well owes him one in return. Maybe if they can be civil for a few minutes, next time they happen to be in the same room, this can get resolved.

He finds a towel to wrap around his hand and thinks he should probably get cleaned up. Grabbing a quick shake, taking a shower and then passing out sounds like a great plan. When the elevator doors open, Clint is standing in front of him. After a few seconds of awkward silence he pushes past Bucky and walks toward the kitchen.  

“Clint, wait…”

“Go fuck yourself, Barnes.”

That settles that. Clint isn’t ready to talk. It’s only been a couple hours. The hurt is still fresh.

~~~~~~~~~~

Bucky is in the kitchen trying to figure out a way to apologize. It’s been a few days and the archer still won’t even look at him. Maybe there’s something he can do to extend an olive branch. He knows Clint didn’t mean what he said. He was just lashing out since he had just gotten his feelings hurt so completely. So Bucky feels he should be the one to reach out first. He actually misses Clint and his ridiculous attempts to get his attention.

“Fuck!” Bucky shouts followed by a loud crash. “Goddamnit! Why am I even bothering?” he says to himself and then drops the cookie sheet he’s holding in his hand. That causes another loud crash.

“Barnes? Are you okay?”Clint is standing next to the island in the center of the kitchen.

Bucky didn’t even hear him enter the room. As he turns to look at him, he looks like a deer in the headlights.

“Shit, ummm, yeah… yeah, I’m okay. Sorry about all the noise, this is kinda new to me.”

“Okay, well I was just making sure you didn’t hurt yourself or something.” Clint turns to leave.

“Wait. Please, can you just wait a minute?”

“Look, Barnes, it’s okay. I get it. You want to be left alone. It’s my fault for pushing the issue.” He looks up and takes a deep breath before he continues. “I’m not stupid, and I can take a hint. I just didn’t want to, that’s all. I … ya know what, forget it…”

“Bucky.”

“What?”

“My friends call me Bucky.” He takes a small step closer to Clint, making sure to maintain eye contact as he speaks. “It’s also okay if you want to call me Buck.”

“But you said…”

“Yeah, just forget everything I said the other day.” He takes a few more steps, cautiously, waiting to see if Clint backs up or moves away. He doesn’t. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said. I was way outta line.” He reaches out like he’s going to place his hand on Clint’s waist, slowly, just as before to gauge the reaction. He doesn’t move away, he steps closer. “I was afraid if you knew how I really felt you’d be pissed or disgusted. Pushing my feeling down made me angry. I took it out on you and you don’t deserve that. I just wanted you to know…”

Clint leans forward and presses his lips to Bucky’s gently, tentatively. His body stiffens like he’s waiting to get hit. Bucky doesn’t hit him, he pulls him closer and deepens the kiss.

“Now that that’s settled,” Bucky says as he pulls back slightly. “help me make these damn apology cookies before I burn the whole tower down.”

Beta: @caramell0w

[atc74]

You’re My Key

Summary: Donna decides it is time for her and Dean to take a vacation, but she has more than one surprise in store for him. 

Word Count: 2557

Warnings: fluff, slight angst, Donna’s doubt

Pairing: Dean x Donna

Written for: @thing-you-do-with-that-thing Kari’s SPN Girl Power Challenge

This can be read as a stand alone, but if you really want to know my story of Dean and Donna, read Wherever You Are first. Beta’d by my angel, @just-another-busy-fangirl. Love you to the moon and back!

Donna poured a second cup of coffee and casually meandered about the Bunker. It was her day off and the boys were on a hunt. She couldn’t believe this was her life now. It was only a little over a year ago that she and Dean decided to give this thing between them a shot. She got the deputy job in Smith County and now came home to Dean every night at the Bunker. It wasn’t perfect, but she didn’t need perfect. She wanted real and that is what she and Dean had found in each other.

Sure, it was hard. She worked full time and Dean was hunting with his brother, but it was easier than if she still lived states away. She had the extra income coming in from renting out her house in Stillwater and she had been saving up for a while. She wanted to take Dean on an honest-to-God vacation. She was sure he hadn’t one of those in, like, ever. She had already planned a trip and thought it would be the perfect opportunity to spend some much needed alone time with Dean.

Donna had already booked the rooms they would need along the way. She had discussed her plans with Sam, so he was in on the decision and wholeheartedly agreed that Dean needed a vacation. The boys would be returning from the hunt later today, then she and Dean would leave first thing in the morning. She spent the rest of her day packing their bags and double checking the itinerary. Now all she had to do was wait for her man to come home.

She didn’t have to wait long. She heard the heavy door to the garage slam close and echo through the halls, carrying into the kitchen where she was cooking dinner. Dean always appreciated a hot meal and a shower when he returned. Before she started dinner, she laid clean clothes and a fresh towel out for him in the bathroom. Donna hummed as she mixed the dough for the chicken and dumplings she was making. It was the perfect comfort food for a bone chilling day. Of course, she thought it was nice out, being from Minnesota; this was great weather!

“Donna? Honey, I’m hoooome,” Dean’s voice rang out.

“In the kitchen,” she called back, a smile on her face.

“Hey, good lookin’, whatchya got cookin’?” Dean laughed as he wrapped her in a hug, his arms tight around her waist, head resting on her shoulder. He nuzzled his face into her neck, breathing her in. “God, I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” she told him. Turning around in his arms, she kissed him deeply to show him just how much he was missed. “Now, go take a shower, dinner will be ready when you are done. And then I will show you that there is more where that came from.” He growled low, kissing her before she pushed him away, making a face. “Go, you stink.”

“You’re not wrong,” he agreed after he lifted his shirt up to his nose. “I’ll be back in ten.”

Donna dropped the dough into the creamy mix of chicken and vegetables and set a timer. The dumplings should be done before Dean returned. She grabbed the bowls from the cupboard, utensils from the drawer and set the table. She snagged three beers and put them down as well. The timer went off a few minutes later and no sooner had she set the steaming pot in the middle of the table on the trivet, Dean walked through the door.

“Something smells delicious!” He rubbed his hands together and took a seat, Donna sitting next to him. She dished up their bowls as Sam walked in, also fresh from the shower.

“My famous chicken and dumplings, boys. Dig in,” she told them. She watched each of their faces as they took the first bite. She knew it wasn’t necessary, that it wasn’t expected of her, but she also knew she felt the need to take care of these men that she loved. Dean, the love she thought she would never experience, and Sam, the brother she never had. It made her happy to take care of them, even though they told her over and over she didn’t need to. The three of them had fallen into an easy rhythm within a few weeks of her moving in and they all just fit in each other’s lives.

During dinner, Sam and Dean filled her in on the hunt. It was not as easy as they had hoped, but neither of them had sustained any injuries, and that was always a win. She thought she actually worried more about them now then she ever did when they were apart. But this was a relationship now, not just friendship. It was deep and meaningful.

The dishes were cleared and leftovers were stored. Donna took Dean by the hand and led him back to their room. She had set up an ice bucket with four beers in it next to the bed with an envelope leaning against it, Dean’s name neatly written in her hand across the front.

“What is this?” he asked seeing it there when he climbed into bed.

“Open it, silly goose,” she prompted. She watched as he opened the envelope, his eyes wide when he turned to look at her.

“Are you serious?” he was astonished, most likely because someone would do something like this for him.

“Of course, Dean! I think it is time we took a vacation. From talking to Sam, you guys have never really had a vacation, with the exception of Vegas week. You’ve earned it, Dean. We’ve earned it,” she explained.

“Route 66? This is gonna be awesome! Thank you, Donna. This is really great. I love it,” Dean whispered, pulling her in for a kiss. Whenever he kissed her, it knocked her socks off. He left her breathless and wanting more, even if it was just a peck. Dean approached everything like he did hunting: calculated and measured and every move with a purpose. He rolled them until he was hovering above her. He spent the next few hours loving her, showing her exactly what she meant to him.

Morning came too early for Dean’s liking, but Donna was already out of bed. He smelled coffee and shuffled to the kitchen, clad only in his dead guy robe.  Donna handed him a cup and continued bustling around the kitchen. She was packing sandwiches and snacks, along with extra beer, for their journey.

“You ready to begin our adventure today?” she looked over at him. He wasn’t even drinking the coffee, just admiring her as she moved about. Some days he couldn’t believe this beautiful and confident creature he was in love with was the same timid woman he met on a case more than four years ago.

“I am more than ready to start another adventure with you, Don. I’ll get dressed then carry this stuff out for you, then we are off,” he replied. He returned to the kitchen fully dressed and grabbed the cooler and headed for the garage, Donna right behind him with a smaller cooler she had packed the food in. They settled everything in the backseat, tossed the bags in and took their seats in the car.

“Ready?” she asked.

“First stop: Hamburger City!” Dean exclaimed as he turned the key and Baby’s engine roared to life. They pulled out of the garage on what Donna hoped was the next leg of their adventure together. She mentally crossed her fingers and prayed she was making the right move.

Their first stop was Robert’s Grill, a little diner in El Reno, Oklahoma. They each had an onion burger, the house specialty, and shared an order of chili cheese fries. “These are amazing!”

“This is probably the best burger I have ever had!” Donna declared as she shoved another chili covered fry in her mouth, licking her fingers.

“Honey, you keep that up and we won’t make it to our next destination,” Dean warned, a smile paying at his lips.

“Maybe that is the next destination,” Donna suggested. “We have been on the road for some time already…”

“Maybe a quick pit stop won’t hurt. Let’s get outta here, Sweetheart,” he slid out of the booth and reached for her hand. It was still early and the sun was shining bright. It took a bit of out of the way driving for them to find a secluded spot, but as soon as Dean parked, they made quick work of Donna’s promises from the diner. An hour later, they were back on the road.

Dean wasn’t as impressed with the Cadillac Ranch as Donna hoped he would be. He just didn’t get how people could do that to a car; it seemed so wrong in his eyes. They back tracked to Amarillo for dinner and checked into the hotel Donna had reserved. Dean was impressed with the hotel. The room didn’t smell like something had died and there was nothing growing in the shower. The bed was comfortable and the sheets were clean. He was with Donna and he couldn’t ask for more. This was already a memorable trip and he couldn’t wait to continue on this journey with her.

“Hey Don, I know you have TInkertown on the list, but I am kinda excited to see the Grand Canyon. Do you mind if we hit it up on our way back instead?” Dean asked Donna as they stopped for fuel.

“Oh hey, no! I think that sounds like a great idea, Handsome. Let’s go!” Donna exclaimed and climbed back in the Impala. Her plans were being pushed up slightly and now she was a little nervous. Her plan had been to arrive at the Grand Canyon nearing sunset and this would put them ahead of schedule. She may have to adjust her plan.

Dean and Donna sat hand in hand overlooking the Grand Canyon. They had stopped for lunch and a pitstop, arriving an hour or two before the sunset. Donna was relieved that the timing had worked. She looked over at the man next to her, not believing this could be her life. She shifted to her knees and turned to him.

“You see this Dean? The way the sunset unlocks even more natural beauty of the rock. It is already there, but like it needed a key to really shine,” she handed him a small box.

“Don, what is this?” Dean asked her, perplexed at the box she placed in his hand.

“Stop asking and just open it, please,” her big brown eyes, boring into his. He pulled the top off the box and lifted out the contents.

“A key?” he asked. An old fashioned key, small enough that it fit on a chain. Donna took the chain from him and placed it over his head, hanging perfectly over his heart. She took something from her pocket and placed an identical chain over her head.

“A key to this,” Donna held up a small lock that hung at the end of her chain. “The key that you hold, unlocks even more of me, the natural me that until I met you didn’t even know existed. You’re my key. I want to spend the rest of my life making you as happy as you have made me. I am a happier, more confident woman since the day you busted into my life. Dean, will you marry me?”

The look, the myriad of emotions, that crossed Dean’s face made Donna start sweating and question everything she had ever felt for him. Was she reading more into it than was really there? Did Dean love her as much as she loved him? Did he love her at all? What if she made a terrible mistake? She took a deep breath and hung her head in her hands. She stood and tried to take a step back, but his hand on her waist stopped her.

“Sweetheart, I don’t even know where to start, much less what to say.” Dean licked his lips nervously, his eyes cast downward as he gathered his thoughts. Donna was terrified that he was going to end things with her; that she had gone too far.

“It’s okay, Dean. You don’t need to say anything. I get it,” she whispered.

“I thought I had it all worked out in my head and then you did all this, and now I can’t think of a single thing I wanted to say. I do have so many things I want to say, but they’re all going to fall short if held up against what you said.” He looked down at the key. “This is probably the best, most meaningful and perfect gift that anyone has ever given me. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Dean. Hey, uh, why don’t we head out?” Donna looked out over the beautiful landscape laid out before them, unconsciously wringing her hands in her lap. She was startled when she felt Dean’s large hand hold her two smaller ones.

“Look at me, Beautiful,” he said and Donna turned her head, her eyes meeting his. She still wasn’t sure what emotions she saw there, but felt that love was one of them. “I, um, I told Sam last week that you were it for me. It scares the hell outta me to think that, much less to say it out loud. Hell, Don, there was a time when you scared me. You are so beautiful and I couldn’t help but wonder what you wanted with a guy like me.”

Donna opened her mouth to speak, but Dean held his finger against her lips, silencing her.

“I never thought I would have this in my life, this unconditional love that I feel for you, and you for me. I never knew what that was. Despite all my faults, you love me anyways, and I love you even more because you can see past all my bullshit and excuses, and don’t hold back when I need to be called on it. I never thought in any lifetime, I would be saying these words and I find it so ironic that you said them first. So I’m just gonna give you this, since you beat me to it,” Dean laughed and handed her the small box he was holding. With shaky hands, Donna opened the box and her hand flew to her mouth.

“Dean,” she gasped. “What’re you doing?”

“Apparently, we had the same idea, but like I said, ya beat me to it,” he took the ring and slipped it on her finger. “Our love is like these knots. There is no end and no beginning, like my love for you.”

“I love it, and I love you. But, Dean, you never answered my question,” she reminded him.

“Oh, yeah that question that I wanted to ask, but as usual, you were one step ahead me. Yes, Donna. I wanna marry you, Sweetheart. Hell yes, I can’t wait to marry you.” Dean pulled her face to his and crashed their lips together. This kiss was like so many they shared before, full of love and passion, but this was the first kiss of the rest of their lives.

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[glitchedbones-blog]

The Forest Eats Your Heart - Part Five

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four

Warnings: None

Bucky helps a sorta traumatized Locust and also tried to channel his pre-Winter Solider self. 

    Bucky didn’t bother to change out of his mission clothes, he simply stipped off body armor and left it where it fell, intending to deal with it later. Locust had been quick and the door to her room was already shut when he got there. Bucky paused, he debated simply charging inside, but didn’t want to make things worse. He knocked and held his breath, hoping. She looked bad, with her tears streaking down her cheeks and eyes bloodshot.

    “Can I come in?” Bucky asked, dropping his shoulders to make himself seem smaller. Locust stepped to the side and waved him in. “I’m not going to ask the obvious. I know you aren’t okay.” She cracked a smile at that. “But you will be. I’m here if you want to talk.”

    Locust simply shook her head. “I- No, I am not a talker. I just- Can you just keep me company?” She sat on her bed and patted the space next to her. Bucky sat down and gave her a small nod.

    “Sure. I can do that.” Locust leaned up against him and ran her fingers along the joints of his arm. “Before all this, Winter Soldier and Avengers stuff Steve and I used to do a lot of stupid things. Once we tried to sneak into this fair, right? Saw a couple of pretty girls, but we had no money to get tickets. So we jumped the fence, but Steve, his shoe got stuck. So we make it over, but Steve is missing a shoe and these girls just look at us like we are the biggest losers. Which, Steve I could see. What I didn’t know was that I had ripped my pants on the way over, right on the back. So Steve has no shoe and I’ve got a rip in my pants and we are penniless in this fair. So what do we do? We ask the girls if they wanna get outta there. In the end, we got kicked out and pretty badly embarrassed.”

    Locust snorted and glanced up at Bucky, eyebrow arched. “That was a terrible story.”

    He gave her a shrug. “Well, it has been nearly 70 years since it happened so, memory isn’t the best. I figured something stupid might help you feel better.”

    Locust’s smile faltered, but she nodded. “It did. A little. It was stupid.”

    Bucky looped his arm around her shoulder and leaned down, grinning. “I have a bunch more stupid stories if you are interested.”

    Locust nodded. “Very, Mr. Barnes.”

    Bucky spent the rest of the night telling Locust story after story of his childhood exploits with Steve. From simple fishing trips to Steve getting his ass handed to him by a couple of thugs, but still fighting back. When he ran out of stories from his childhood, he went into stories from his time with the 107th and even the Howling Commandos, being careful to keep any real fighting out of his tales.

    Locust found herself drifting in and out of sleep and slowly started to press heavily against Bucky’s side. Her head rolled forward and she was falling, Bucky just caught her before she found herself getting familiar with the floor.

    “Alright, doll, it's time for you to go to sleep.” he helped her back onto the bed, offering a steady arm as she sleepily slipped under the thin covers. Bucky made to go, but was stopped by her soft grip around his wrist.

    “Please don’t- Stay here, please. You can keep the nightmares away.” Bucky chuckled at that. Locust tightened her grip and stared up at him. “I don't want to be alone.”

    Bucky sighed and kicked off his shoes and socks and pulled off the overshirt and tossed them into a pile. “I scare away your nightmares, you scare away mine. Deal?”

    Locust pulled him down making him lay next to her. Bucky wrapped her in his arms and she snuggled against him. “Deal,” she mumbled into his chest.

    Bucky smiled down at the mop of black hair and sighed. “FRIDAY, can you get the lights?” The lights dark. In the soft light of the coming dawn, Bucky caught sight of a small, white, moth sitting on the window. He chuckled and Locust made a small, questing hmmm. “Your moth is back.”

    Locust simply shrugged and tried to burrow deeper into Bucky’s arms. He pulled her closer and had q heartbeat of calm before the panic set in. The realization hit him full force and he stared down at the now sleeping woman, eyes wide. He tried to calm his galloping heart as he fought with the realization that he never wanted to let her go.

    He took a deep breath, telling himself it was too late, or too early to deal with this. He would sleep on it, see if he felt the same way in the morning. A growing part of him certainly hoped so.

    Morning, or mid-afternoon made morning, came and Bucky woke to find himself alone in a pile of rumpled sheets. He sat up, heart pounding as he glanced around the small room. He noticed a small pile of fresh clothes atop a chair with his shoes neatly tucked underneath.

    The door to the bathroom opened and Locust stepped out, toweling off her damp hair. She caught Bucky’s eye and gave him a half smile.

    “I- You needed fresh clothes so I had Steve bring them down.” She pointed to the clothes. “You can use my shower if you- You can use it to clean up.”

    Bucky nodded and padded towards the bathroom, stopping to grab the handful of clothes. He dumped the clothes on the sink and stepped into the shower and let his mind drift as the water washed away the last missions grime.

    Sleeping on his thoughts hadn’t helped and Bucky still didn’t know what he wanted. What he planned to do. Too much time had been lost as the Winter Soldier. Too much of him. He could practically hear Steve teasing him about no longer being such a lady killer. Bucky snorted. Dancing. Or dinner. That’s what he would go with. Back to the old days, before he was a murderer.

    A quick dry and dress and he steeled himself. Locust was perched on her bed, the little moth from before sitting on her fingertips, it’s soft wings vibrating slightly.

    “Hi. I- Thank you for keeping away the nightmares. Looks like it worked.” She smiled brightly and Bucky chuckled.

    “Yeah, well I can pretty scary.”

    Locust gave a small shrug. “Maybe. Apparently, I can be as well.”

    Bucky smiled in agreement and plopped down next to her, resting his elbows on his thighs. “That you are, doll.” He leaned back and cleared his throat. “I was wondering,” Bucky gave a nervous cough and ran a hand through his still damp hair. “Would you, maybe, want to go get something to eat? Together?”

    Locust stared at him, eyes wide and hand with the moth frozen in midair. She opened and closed her mouth a few times before giving a small huff. “I- Yes. That would be good. Together. Food!” She dropped her hand and the moth fluttered off. “Let me- I just need to change into more outside clothes.” She waved a hand at her tank top and sweatpants. Bucky nodded and stood.

    “Sure, yes. Fifteen minutes in the lounge. I’ll meet you there.”

    Locust nodded and shooed him out. “Yes. Yeah. Fifteen is good.” Locust nearly shut the door in his face and Bucky couldn’t help but grin as he strolled down the hall towards the lounge. It wasn’t until he almost got there that he realized his shoes were still in her room.

[nottswitch]

Kinda Outta Luck

A story was requested for Billy Russo, including him and the reader being fwb and him wanting more, unlike the reader, with a probability of a happy ending. I’m a sucker for happy endings so that was good news. But how happy the ending actually is, that’s up to you to decide :)

It's obviously my first time writing for Billy Russo and I hope I didn't do my worst :) Thank you, dear anon, for your request, I hope you’ll enjoy!

“Aren’t you tired of all that shit?” sighed Billy, taking a swig from a bottle of whiskey. He was standing in front of the window with a towel wrapped around his thighs, his hair still wet from the shower. You heard his voice trembling a bit.

“You should consume a little less alcohol, Russo, you start sounding like a high school teen on a first date when you overdose.”

You were lying on a huge bed, black sheets covering your completely naked body. A similar bottle of whiskey, just a little fuller, was standing on a bedside table and you were currently guiding your hand towards it.

“And what exact shit do you mean, may I ask?”

You felt a cold glass on your fingertips and with great pleasure opened the bottle, feeling the smell of your favourite high quality whiskey which could have only be found at Billy’s place somehow. Taking a sip, you felt it immidiately warming you up and giving life to your exhausted — in a good way — body.

“You should consume a little less alcohol, Y/L/N, you start being oblivious to such evident things when you overdose.” Billy copied you, grinning, but there was also something sad in his words. You didn't pay attention to it though and kept drinking, closing your eyes from unbelievable satisfaction.

"There's a lot of shit going on if you didn't notice," you said after pulling away from your whiskey. "I just need clarification."

Billy didn't reply.

"You know, I can't answer a question if it's so abstract." You put the bottle down to the table and leaned back against the softest pillows you've ever felt. Sometimes you thought you come here again and again just for those pillows.

Billy finished his whiskey and turned around to see you. You looked up at him and noticed for God knows what time that he was still as handsome as the day you met him. He approached the bed and put the bottle down near yours. Then he lay down next to you and opened his arms, inviting you for a hug. At first his actions were greeted by an open-eyed look of yours but then you surprised yourself with accepting his invitation. You rested your head on his chest while he wrapped his arm around you and started caressing your shoulder. You felt his heart beating really fast but blamed it on whiskey.

Usually you both weren't a kind of lovers to cuddle after sex or even spend any time together, it was just tonight that something went wrong. Usually you would dress up and leave while Billy was taking a shower and the next day you wouldn't speak about what happened at all. It was a type of relationship that you both agreed on having — friends with benefits kinda thing. You both were totally okay with it, sex was great after all. A weird difference was today though, you've never seen Billy acting like he was now.

"What kind of mood are you in tonight, Russo?" you asked, breathing in the minty smell of a shower gel coming from him. You've never felt it before — perhaps because you've never stayed.

"Sentimental," he simply answered.

This was very unlike him. He never did anything romantic to you, not a single thing — you didn't insist, of course — and now he is "sentimental" all of a sudden.

"Is something wrong?"

Silence was an answer. Billy was nervous, you could feel it, and you stopped understading what's happening at all.

"Hey, if you won't tell me what the fuck is going on, I'll..." you hesitated, not knowing what to say. "I'll leave and never come again!"

"How childish is that!" Billy made a short laugh. "You know you would."

He was right here, no matter what you said, you'd always come to his place to have another night with him whenever he wanted. But the fuck was with him anyway?

"Whatever, just explain!" you were running out of patience already. "Can you do it?"

He just sighed and scratched his head, thinking about something.

"It's complicated, you know," he finally said after a while. "I don't think you'll understand."

You couldn't believe your ears. It was him who asked a strange question! It was him who acted all fucking romantic without any explanation! You told Billy so and got nothing but a look with an expression in it that you were unable to identify. Then he moved closer and looked down at your lips, biting his lower one. Although you were pissed off, you just couldn't resist and slowly pressed your lips against his, feeling a strong taste of whiskey on your tongue. He however stopped the kiss and you almost heaved a disappointed sigh when you felt his lips on your neck. His hand was pulling your hair off slightly so that he could see more of your beautiful body.

You wanted to be angry at him. You wanted to keep the conversation going. You wanted a decent explanation of his behavior. But as it turned out, you wanted him more.

"I wish we were something bigger."

"You... What?!"

It was very late at night when this short dialogue happened between you and the man who was now intensely staring at you, clenching his hands.

"Sorry, I might have heard you wrong, but you want what?!"

You actually thought that you might have disheard Billy's words as it was impossible that he meant exactly that.

"I want more than just fucking!" Billy couldn't help but shouted, furiously leaning back at the soft surface of the bed. He brushed his fingers through his hair, closing his eyes. "Got it this time?"

Have anyone ever heard such words from Billy Russo? Probably no one in this whole world before that moment. You didn't know what to even think, how to react, what to do. You were just lying there, your face expressing kind of a shock. Billy lifted himself a bit and looked at you worriedly. This reaction was precisely what he was afraid to get after his confession.

It was obviously hard for him to accept the fact that he, Billy fucking Russo, has fallen for you, his friend who he has sex with from time to time. These feelings were unnatural to him — a long term relationship with responsibilities wasn't his thing at all. But somehow he wanted it with you. Not immidiately, a few dates, cinemas, pubs and restaurants would do for a start, but something close to an actual romantic relationship was needed. Billy often caught himself thinking that maybe another man is in your bed right now and it, at the very least, didn't make him happy. He wanted to have you all for himself.

All those thoughts crossed his mind at the same time as he was watching your face changing its expression from shocked to — surprisingly enough — satisfied. You turned your head to face him and grinned.

"Did I just have a declaration of love from Billy Russo himself?" you mockingly asked, raising your eyebrow. "Goddamn, that means I'm not a complete shit in this life."

Now it was Billy's turn to be surprised. At first he thought you were going to yell at him, then leave and was ready to live with a thought of him destroying everything between you two. But now you were... joking and what even the fuck?

At the meantime you found a fresh bottle of whiskey that was, very handy, standing on the floor near the bed. You opened it and took a big sip, missing some drops and feeling them running down to your chin.

"And that's it?" Billy asked, looking straight in your eyes. "Are you going to say nothing else?"

"What was I supposed to say, I wonder?" You pulled away from the bottle and put it back down. "Was I supposed to die from unbearable joy or what?"

Billy ignored your sarcastic comments and looked up at the high ceiling of the room. He wanted to know only one thing.

"No, but at least response with something decent."

"What's counted as decent?"

Mutuality, Billy thought.

"Any clear and obvious answer would do."

"Can you please clarify, what exact information do you want to hear." You didn't really like playing those games as you were unable to understand hints and all that.

"I want more."

"I heard that, Billy," you were running out of patience. "Don't think I'm stupid. What the hell do you want to hear from me?!"

"Do you want more?"

Here, it's said. Billy tried abandoning your eyes and looked in the window. A full moon was emitting dim light and watching it he kinda wished he was a werewolf and now just changed his essence and ran away.

You weren't ready to answer this question now. It fell on your head unexpectedly and your slightly drunken mind wasn't working in a right way. Did you want anything more than regular sex with Billy Russo? Never before had this question bother you. You were satisfied with what was going on between you two and nothing else was necessary.

You touched Billy's shoulder and he twitched slightly but calmed at the moment he saw your face. You took his hand in yours and intertwined your fingers. Your inner sarcastic bitch disappeared somehow because you've never seen Billy Russo so vulnerable before — and hoped to never see again. You weren't sure, however, that your answer will completely please him.

"Sorry for keeping you waiting," you said, climbing on top of him to see his face more clear. "I don't want to mess around so I'll say straight away — I'm not sure."

A sparkle of hope appeared in Billy's eyes and he held your hand tighter, almost leaving marks with his nails.

"So there is a chance?"

To be completely honest, you didn't want to take another step now. Your current relationship with Billy suited you. But you thought that you could definitely try later.

"Yes. But a small one only," you added.

"That's probably the first time I got semi-rejected by a girl," Billy said, smiling, but rather unhappily. "I'm usually more fortunate, believe me."

"I guess, you're just kinda outta luck today," you replied, getting up and heading to the door. "But you can still join me in the shower, I'm accepting losers sometimes." You winked and went out of the room, teasingly moving your hips.

Billy's face lightened up with a grin. He willingly followed you, catching you up and pressing you against the wall. Serious talks could've waited a bit, there was something more important to do now, and precisely — you.

[shamelessly4shameless-blog]

Nickovich (pt. 11)

Ian wakes to find blue eyes fixed on him and a hand lightly cupping his cheek.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

He turns to kiss the inside of Mickey’s wrist and smiles slightly. Sunlight is filtering in between the cracks in the curtains and the sounds of the city waking up echo softly through the walls.

There is a flash of something that casts a momentary shadow behind Mickey’s eyes, but then it is gone and his lips are pressing against Ian’s with an urgent intimacy. Ian sweeps his tongue over Mickey’s and pulls him in tight against his body. His hands feel too rough against the soft skin of Mickey’s ribs and Ian slows his movements down. He is trying to consume too much of Mickey at once, he needs to take his time.

The sex is gentler, slower than the night before and the orgasms that leave them shaking in each other’s arms are silent save for a couple of deep sighing breaths. Ian kisses Mickey’s jaw, his temple, his upper lip. He traces the swell of pectoral muscles with this thumb and memorises the colour of his morning stubble, slightly shy of black but not by much. Mickey smiles under Ian’s gaze and nudges his hips lightly against Ian’s.

“Missed waking up like this.”

“Me too.”

Ian nods and then regretfully glances at his watch.

“I have to go.”

“Will I see you again?”

Mickey asks quietly, sitting up and trying to cover up the ache those words cause him by the fumbling open of a cigarette packet.

Ian nods and nudges his forehead lightly against Mickey’s, stilling his hands. They share another kiss and then Ian is rolling out of bed, stopping only to place the filter of a smoke lightly between his lover’s lips.

“I’ll call you.”

Ian promises, taking a few notes out of his wallet and leaving them on the table.

“Get yourself some decent breakfast.”

He winks at Mickey, trying to lighten the heavy mood that has settled around them. Ian is pretty sure Mickey is trying not to cry, he’s got that glassy eyed look and his nostrils are flared wide and the sight makes Ian’s gut clench. He thinks of all those years he would give Mickey those same pleading looks, begging him silently not to go and knowing that he would anyway. It gives Ian a new appreciation of what the other side of those early days must have felt like.

“I’ll call you, Mick.”

He repeats more firmly and the Mickey nods curtly, clears his throat and says

“Okay. I gotta collect a couple things, I’ll be leaving town this afternoon. This evening at latest.”

Ian knew this was likely but actually hearing it leaves him feeling a little light headed.

“Fine. Cool. Okay.”

He turns to the door. He needs to go but suddenly it is all too much. Arriving, leaving, coming, going, hello, and of course, good-bye. Ian wants to say that he’ll definitely be going with Mickey but in truth he still isn’t sure. A teenage love affair is not meant to be like this. It is meant to either run its course, like flames flicking along a linear trail of gasoline and then burn out, or it is meant to shape into a partnership and a life built. What has happened between he and Mickey has been too much of one thing to ever really be the other. It has been a constant battle for every single moment of happiness and now, running away together with the law on their tail … Jesus. It would be hard enough on someone without Ian’s fluctuating mental health issues, but with them it feels like a disaster waiting to happen.

He stares at the door handle in the agony of indecision. As he hesitates, a strong arm wraps around Ian’s waist and he feels Mickey’s cheek press into his shoulder. Ian turns just enough to wrap himself around the shorter man and they stay like that, just holding each other.

“I’m going to call. I promise.”

Ian mumbles into Mickey’s hair and feels a nod against him.

“You take care of yourself, okay?”

Mickey says finally, pulling back, eyes red rimmed but dry. Ian nods and smooths his hands over Mickey’s shoulders and down his arms, memorising as much of his face as he can, drinking in the tiny details and the feel of his skin.

“I love you.”

“I know.”

Mickey gives Ian a small smile and with more strength than he knew he had, he lets him go.

*

Mickey presses his forehead against the cool gloss painted door as it closes behind Ian and squeezes his eyes shut tight, willing himself to stay in control.

There is a small sound of blankets being shifted and Mickey pinches the bridge of his nose firmly, setting his shoulders, inhaling deeply and pulling it together.

“You okay?”

Nicky asks quietly and Mickey nods, wiping a hand across his upper lip before turning to face her.

“Yeah, I’m fine. He’ll do what he has to do. Always has.”

Nicky wraps a blanket around her shoulders like a cape and settles herself cross legged on the bed giving him a sympathetic smile.

“You look like you need a drink.”

Mickey puffs out his cheeks with an awkward grimace. He desperately wants to dive into a bottle and not surface until he knows what Ian is going to do but he’s taken too many risks already and he knows he’s a sloppy drunk, especially when he’s upset.

“Nah. I got shit to do. Can’t do it if I can’t think straight.”

“How about we go out for coffee then? This room smells like stale beer, rough sex, and repressed anger.”

“Yeah … well … You spilled the fuckin’ beer!”

Nicky lets out one of her deep throaty laughs and grins at him

“The beer is actually not the worst thing out of those three. C’mon. Let’s go get decent coffee.”

“You suggest that weird glittery coffee place I’m gonna fuck you up.”

“Ian goes there. Don’t you wanna see it?”

“No.”

Mickey runs a hand over his jaw, grimacing at the stubble.

“I’m gonna shower. Order coffee to the room or something.”

“Hey! I like this new side of you. Room service and personal hygiene? You’re a winner, Abe.”

“Not my fuckin’ name.”

Mickey grouches but he’s actually feeling a little better already. Nicky teasing him is a pain in the ass but it’s just really good to have someone around. Anyone really. A distraction from the disturbance that is occurring in his mind.

By the time he finishes his shower and shave there is coffee, fruit and bagels waiting for him. There is also the faint tang of marijuana in the air and he frowns at Nicky accusingly.

“Would you believe me if I told you that a couple of high-school guys with leather bombers and bad attitudes broke in and smoked all your pot while you washed up?”

Nicky grins at him, a lopsided, half-awake smile that makes Mickey roll his eyes but he isn’t actually that fussed about the pot. He needs to keep sharp today, way too much shit riding on him to risk fucking it up because he can’t stop laughing.

“You’re an asshole is what I’d believe.”

“Junkie asshole. Can’t leave me around drugs, Abe.”

Mickey pauses in towelling his hair and cocks his head in her direction

“Really?”

“Yeah really. Shit. You left me alone for five minutes and I smoked the one joint we have. Didn’t even save you any.”

She looks anxious now and Mickey knows that one of her monologue confessions is about to spring forth and as he hasn’t even had coffee yet, he figures it’s best to cut that one off before it begins.

“I don’t care that you smoked it so just …”

“Are we gonna be dealing a lot of drugs in Mexico?”

“Huh?”

Mickey bites into an apple and picks up his drink, trying not to show the rush of hopeful excitement that sprang from her use of the word ‘we’.

“Drugs? In Mexico? Cause I figure if we are then you should probably leave me behind.”

“You bailing on me too?”

The hopeful excitement wobbles and his words come out a lot needier than Mickey intended. He fills his mouth with more fruit to stop any other whiny crap coming out.

“I’m not bailing on you but I can’t be around high volumes of narcotics. I will do all the drugs we have and get our fingers cut off or whatever the Cartel do …”

“Cartel…?”

“And also, Ian hasn’t bailed on you. Personally I think he’ll come with you – maybe not the whole way, I don’t know how much of a pussy he is, but he’ll at least get in the van.”

“He’s not a pussy. And I’m not taking the van! Things a piece of crap.”

Mickey snaps, then chokes on his apple and Nicky waits patiently for him to decide whether or not he is about to die before continuing as he gulps down a glass of water and pounds his chest.

“Whatever, the point is … shit … what was my point?”

“How the hell should I know?”

Mickey quips, voice harsh from his near death experience. Nicky stands up and walks over to him, resting her hands lightly on his shoulders.

“You are a really great kid, really great. I don’t even know how I know that but I just do. I want you to make it outta here, Abe. I really want that.”

“Okay.”

Mickey nods, his eyes darting away from her intense brown gaze because that sort of eye contact with anyone but Ian makes him feel a little claustrophobic and he doesn’t know what to do with her emotion.

“So I can’t be the one who fucks it up for you. Me and drugs … we’re like that shitty couple who hate each other but keep going because the sex is amazing. I can’t help it and I can’t control it.”

“Yeah I know that feeling.”

Mickey quirks his eyebrow in teasing irony and Nicky acknowledges it fondly

“Right. So I have to be honest with you and say that I am the shittiest person when it comes to narcotics and I want to go with you, but ...”

“You do?”

Mickey’s eyes snap back to hers and Nicky gives him another one of those sweetly lopsided smiles

“I do, fresh start could be good for me and Chicago is fucking freezing.”

“Not even winter yet.”

Mickey smirks and then softens into a genuine smile as Nicky hands over around a third of a blunt.

“I lied, I did save you some but I wanted you to know that I have a problem and I don’t want to make it your problem too. Did I make my point?”

Nicky watches as Mickey lights it, looks pointedly at her and after a long inhale that makes his chest rattle, steps into the bathroom and drops the rest in the toilet bowl, exhaling through the little window.

“Yeah you did. Fuckin’ long winded and dramatic way to make it, but we got there.”

He rolls his shoulders and thinks for a moment.

“You okay with guns? I can run those instead, probably less hassle to be honest. And there is always beat down work too. Wherever you go, someone always wants to pay to fuck someone else up.”

“I was more thinking coffee shop on the beach front, serving espressos to tourists.”

Nicky sighs happily at the thought but Mickey wrinkles his nose in distate

“Fuck that. I want to make some cash and then buy the damn coffee store. I ain’t bein’ some assholes waiter”

“Sweet! Okay you buy it, then you can make me manager.”

“More like fire your ass and get someone who don’t give me shit every day.”

Mickey throws over his shoulder as he begins styling his hair.

“Oh fuck off. You know you find me delightful.”

“Sure as shit wouldn’t be serving any glittery crap.”

Nicky rolls her eyes as she leans against the door jamb watching him.

“For someone who hated it, you sure bring it up a lot.”

Mickey raises his middle finger in the mirror and declines to answer. Nicky winks at him and smiles

“I’m gonna make a special latte. It’ll be milk, coffee …”

“Sounds like a real game changer …”

“Shut up. Milk, coffee, a shot of vodka and … get this, some dark rum on top and I’m gonna call it ‘Abe’s Revenge’”

“Revenge for what?”

“Everything.”

Nicky opens her eyes wide and nods sagely and after thinking about his life for a moment, Mickey snorts and turns back from the mirror.

“Why the fuck not? Abe’s Revenge.”

“Or ‘Mickey’s’ if you like?”

Nicky offers, arching one eyebrow.

“Abe’s is fine.”

Mickey sniffs dismissively, as if he hasn’t bitched about the nickname incessantly and strides past her.

“Of course it fucking is.”

Nicky laughs to herself.

*

[adampage]

The Game, Pt. 2

Characters: [Y/N], Triple H, Sami Zayn, Kevin Owens, and all the women’s locker room who’s names I can remember

Word Count: 3,873

Warnings: for this chapter, none I think? oh, there’s alcohol involved. that’s about it.

Author’s Note: kinda sad. kinda not. Kevin is in this one at the beginning, because he’s a ball of goodness. I know he is.

Before You Read: The Game, Part 1 requested by @deanammbrose

Tagging: @llowkeys / @mewsburger /  @hardcorewwetrash / @blondekel77 / @xxmaddhatter39xx / @crowleysqueenofhell / @unabashedwwesmut / @alexahood21 / @lip-sync / @we-work-hard / @the-geekgoddes / @sjwrites22 / @welshwitch5 / @wrasslin-x / @wrestlewriting / @roman-reigns-princess / @straight-outta-the-asylum / @idekwhatthisis / @wwetrashqueen / @reigns420 / @heelturn-timesten / @thephenomenonalkingofthebrogues / @leteverythingexist / @athoughtfulmindwrites / @0-inkmix-0 / @baronesscorbin / @alexahood21 / @smolsassynalilsmartassy / @wrestlingbabe / @wrestlingnoob / @dark-blueheart13 / @birthday-prinxess / @meghanannexx / @thehardyboyz

"Tell me you didn't say that."

"Ugh, I did!" Kevin looked at you like you were fucking insane. "Are you fucking insane?" You hid your face between your hands. "I know, I was an asshole, I know!" "No, you don't fucking know. How could you just brush him off like that?"

It was frustrating, that question. You didn't have the heart to tell him that you weren't entirely sure why you'd done it. Sami Zayn and Kevin Owens had been your best friends for nigh on fifteen-ish years. All three of you had started wrestling about the same time, in different places, and had met in the same wrestling promotion. You remembered the night you and Kevin had first seen Sami wrestle. You remembered the moment when Kevin and Sami first wrestled. And you remembered the taste of the milkshakes the three of you had nights after, after meeting each other all for the first time outside of work. Vanilla, chocolate, strawberry. A regular Neapolitan blend. You didn't share, and the other two were positively disappointed with you. You had nearly fallen off your stool from laughter. You had clicked with them easily. Sami brought out the goodness in you, he always had. And Kevin had always been the one to help you in anything, any problem and situation that needed fixing. Call him a bastard in the ring, but outside of it he was a sweet man with a heart of gold that just wanted to make sure you were on the right track. And that's why you had come to him, now. That's why you were sitting in a vacant training room in the performance center, hastily whispering, begging for his help. But you should have known this topic wasn't going to be easy. Sami was the one topic in the world that you wouldn't get an unbiased viewpoint for. "I didn't brush him off, I just-" "Then what was it?" His tone was sharp as a dagger. It was beginning to grind away at your very soul. "Huh? Because it sounds an awful lot like you didn't even bother to think about it before you rejected him." "I was fucking scared, okay?" Your hands left your face, tensely dropping at your sides in emphasis. His eyes narrowed, squinting at you. "Of what? Of Sami Zayn? The heart and soul of any wrestling promotion he's ever been a part of? The kindest fucking human being that's ever walked the fucking earth? I don't understand what the hell you could possibly be afraid of, [Y/N]." He crossed his arms, disgusted. "There are fluffy bunnies with more evil in their hearts than Sami Zayn." If his plan was to snap your heart in two, Kevin had accomplished it. If his plan was to make you feel like absolute shit for what you'd done, he accomplished that, too. But it wasn't. He sighed. He could see it, the guilt on your face, the remorse in your eyes. The tears begged to fall. "No, don't. Don't cry." His tone was softer now as he reached for you, wrapping his arms around you to make you feel safe. "I'm sorry," you bawled. "But I didn't know what to say." Your breathing was erratic, sharp intakes of breath followed release in quick succession. "I figured...if...it wasn't...immediate...that I didn't...love him...like he loves me." Your words were sticky with snot. "Fuck, it's okay, sweetheart, it's fine." Kevin's hands reached to stroke your hair, tucking your head under his chin. Quietly, he began to hum, and you could feel every vibration at the top of your head, the French lullaby soothing you slowly. Alouette, gentille alouette Alouette, je te plumerai... You did your best to control your breathing allowing the humming to lull you into relaxation. His singing reminded you of home, even if it was thousands of miles away. je te plumerai la tête

et la tête

et la tête

alouette

alouette,

oh...

"You okay?" Kevin asked finally, dipping his head to look at your face. You nodded, looking for something to wipe your nose with. Finding nothing, you slumped your shoulders in disappointment, already feeling the embarrassment of your situation reddening your cheeks and causing fresh tears to pool at your eyes. Kevin stroked your cheek softly, wiping at your eyes. Then, showing mild annoyance, he rolled his eyes and pointed at his sleeve, indicating you wipe your nose on it. "Thank you," you whispered, tugging at his sleeve. "Yeah, don't mention it, seriously." He looked away as you soiled his sleeve, more expressions of disgust visible on his face. "When does he get back?" You asked. Kevin thought about it for a minute. "Next week, I think." He looked solemnly at you. "He called me this morning, you know. Asked me how you were doing." "What'd you say to him?" You probed curiously, looking up to meet his eyes. "Said you were fine." He leaned back, sat down on the table next to them. "To be honest, I didn't know. About any of this." Your eyes widened in silent shock. "He didn't tell you?" "No, he didn't. And neither did you, for that matter, best friend." You ignored the jab, though it stung. "He tells you everything." "Yeah, well, not this time. Even more reason to think that it's affecting him badly." You bit your bottom lip in frustration. "Kevin, what should I do?" He sat there, deep in thought. It was a pitiful situation, honestly. You didn't want to hurt Sami's feelings, but you also couldn't reciprocate something you didn't feel. "Depends on what you want. I can't help you fix it unless I know exactly what I'm fixing." "I just want everything to go back to the way it was." Kevin sighed. "That's not gonna happen, sweetheart." "Well..." you whimpered, "I just want him to know I still care for him. I can't give him what he wants, but I want us to be okay. I hope he can understand that." Your words caught in your throat with every sharp inhale and exhale of breath.

"Everything's gonna be fine, [Y/N]," Kevin said, "everything's gonna be all right." He reached out to squeeze your hand, if but for a brief moment, letting his assurance comfort you. "How do you know?" "Because he's Sami Zayn. He loves you and he won't hurt you." He gave you a crooked smile. "Just give him time. D'accord?" Your smile was faint, but genuine. "D'accord."

The next night was NXT. You had a match that you’d win, and then Hunter was set to "appear" backstage, with a congratulations to you on doing so well your first few weeks after your debut. You were going to thank him, put a hand on his shoulder in flirtation and twirl your hair. And Corey, bless his heart, was going to notice. He was going to point it out, talk about how this was all a game with you. You wanted in on the women's title, and you were going to use whatever means it took to get there. The insinuation was TV-14 at best, so it was good that NXT was only on the network.

Everything went as planned. After the segment, Murphy and Blake had a match with the Lucha Dragons, and then Sami showed up on the screen, a video to his fans about how he was doing and when he'd be coming back. You watched him, that sad little smile apparent on his face. You wondered if it was all just for show, if he was doing it because he was “thinking” about what Kevin “did” to him, or if it was because of what you did. Either way, it was enough to make you feel regret. How could you do this to him?

After watching the end of the show, you stood up and opened your locker, changing out of your ring gear. Charlotte, Becky, Sasha, Bayley. They all came barging into the locker room, afury with hushed, giggling whispers. As you pulled your t-shirt over your head, you gave them a questioning look. “What’s all the giggling about?”

“Oh, nothing,” Sasha sang nonchalantly as she opened her locker, “just that Hunter’s invited us all to go out for drinks!”

“Really?” You shot her and the girls a quizzical eyebrow raise. He was taking the four horsewomen out to the bar? Hm.

“Mhm,” Bayley added, “he wants to take us out for drinks because he thinks we’re all doing a great job.”

Charlotte winked at you coyly. “Yeah, that’s why he wants to take us out for drinks.”

You shook your head, trying your best to hide your face from her. “Well, have fun you guys. Don’t get too drunk in front of the boss.”

Becky laughed at you from her seat on the bench, legs spread apart, raising a towel to her neck. “One, I’m Irish, so I don't get drunk. Two,” she said, holding up two fingers, “you’re comin’ too. Emma as well.”

“And me?” Emma asked from behind you. She had been quietly sitting in the background. “Sounds good.”

You turned back to Becky, pointing at yourself. “He invited me?” Your heart skipped a couple beats at the thought.

Bayley smiled. “Yes, of course. You’re part of the women’s revolution too, ya know.”

You looked down, hiding a grin. “All right, then, guess we’re all going. I’ll meet you guys there?”

Sasha came up behind you, hands on your shoulders. “No the heck you won’t. We’re gonna shower and then dress up, do make up, everything. Bayley is amazing at it.”

Bayley blushed, the compliment too much for her. “Stop it, Sasha.”

“What? I’m just telling the truth.”

Charlotte rolled her eyes. “Oh my God, ew. Get a room.”

Alexa walked in, with the same news and the same excitement in her voice. “Guys, this is gonna be so much fun.”

“You know it, sister,” Becky said as she high fived her. “Now let’s get the show on the road.”

At around ten o’clock, you and the girls climbed out of a limo, giggling and laughing as Becky got to the punchline of a very punny joke. The line to the club was long, but it didn’t matter. The bouncer recognized you all immediately, letting you in.

“Hey, girls, good job tonight.”

“Thanks, Freddy! Always our number one fan.”

“Don’t you know it.”

“Thanks, Fred! We love you!”

“Any time, ladies.”

You and the girls made your way through the club, nearly losing track of each other in the mass of dancing, sweaty bodies. The lights flashed, the mob clearly visible in minute heartbeats of color. You followed the girls up the winding stairs to the second floor, VIP, pushing past already drunk couples tripping down the steps as they were negated entry. Another bouncer, another charming, familiar face.

“How y’all doin’, mijitas?” His stare kept on Becky for a good five seconds longer than everyone else.

“Exhausted but glad to be out! You?” Becky conversed with him, twirling a strand of hair and giving him a wink.

“Ready for this shift to end. Y’all be careful. Lotta vagabundos out tonight.”

“Amen to that, you too, Eduardo.”

“See ya, chicas.”

He lifted the rope for you all to pass. When Becky was out of earshot, she came and flanked you, placed her hand to your ear. “Ed could get it, no question.”

You grinned, looking back to where Eduardo stood, hands behind his back, dressed in an all black suit and tie. Hair gelled back, stubble lining his chiseled jaw. “Yeah, he could,” came your reply, to the dismay of Becky.

“Keep your hands to yourself, woman, that’s my man!”

You put your hand to your mouth, covering your sudden burst of laughter. “I’m kidding, Bex, he’s all yours.”

You stopped when you saw the rest of the girls had already made it to their table, Hunter kissing each of them on the cheek in greeting.

Damn, he looks good, you thought, earning yourself a good mental smack. He was dressed formally, a different suit from the one he wore to the show tonight, yet it felt like his sexiness was bursting through the roof. The top buttons of his dress shirt were unbuttoned, and you could see the tan skin and blondish hairs of his chest. His suit jacket was slung across the side of the booth, you noticed. Casual, friendly, yet sophisticated. God, this man was too much.

“[Y/N], nice to see you out and about.”

When he got to you, you froze for a second, heart beating slightly faster. What the fuck was this? How was he doing this to you? You shook the thoughts away, leaning forward to receive your kiss on the cheek in greeting. When you pulled back from the hug and kiss, he held your hand for what seemed like minutes longer than the rest of them, gaze holding your own, until he suddenly let go and called for a waiter to order drinks. Maybe you were just imagining the lapse of time. It can’t have been longer than a few seconds.

You sat down next to Emma, who cocked an eyebrow at you, but said nothing. All of you sat there, chattering amongst yourselves, Becky with Charlotte, Sasha and Bayley with Hunter, you and Emma and Alexa, content to just be away from work. When the drinks arrived, Sasha downed hers in seconds, waiting for Charlotte to do the same so that they could finally go down to the dance floor. Sasha stood up, grabbed Charlotte’s hand and winked at her flirtatiously, with remarks from Bayley and Becky begging them to “get a room!” to the giggles of the other girls who had been in the locker room earlier that night. Hunter, confused, watched them from behind his glass of Jack Daniels, a soft smile gracing his lips.

“All right, get up, you two,” Becky said, motioning Bayley and Emma to follow her lead. “Looks like Ed’s shift is over and I want to convince him to stay for a dance. I need my wing women.”

“Oh,” you said, shifting to move, “let me g-”

“No, you sit your sweet little arse down for two more drinks at least. I don’t want you near my man, and Bayley’s got ya covered, she needs to learn how to be a wing woman, anyhow.” You looked to Bayley, who smiled to hide how nervous she was. You gave her a thumbs up and a wink, wishing her luck as she trailed behind Emma and Bex. As they left, you could hear Emma asking, “and what makes you think I won’t steal your man from under you as well?”

Shaking your head, you turned to face Alexa, only to find that she was gone, flirting with a man in a corner of the VIP lounge. The only other person left, you realized with a jolt of your stomach, was Hunter.

“Heya, Hunter.”

“[Y/N]. You're not gonna leave me by myself, too, are you?”

“Absolutely not,” you smiled confidently, taking a sip of Alexa’s pink drink, though deep down you were positively brimming with anxiety. “How are you?”

He scoffed, taken aback by the question. One hand grazed his jaw, thinking it over. “It’s funny, no one really asks me that.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “What? Why’s that?”

He looked intently into your eyes. “I’m your boss. Your superior. In most cases, people only ever ask ‘how are you’ in passing, but no one expects a real answer.” A smirk played on his lips. “But you sound genuine. Like you actually want to know.”

“Well, I do want to know.”

He chuckled in response. “I’m doing well, thanks for asking.”

You looked at him, studied the face hard from years of working under the guise of corporate professionalism. The feared Triple H. The Game. The King of Kings. As a younger woman, you remembered what he was like when his career was just inside a twenty by twenty. He was hot stuff, the next big thing after Stone Cold Steve Austin. But weirdly enough, you could never remember the last time you saw him looking happy.

As in, actually happy. Not just the professionally friendly face he showed all of you as your boss.

The wrinkles between his eyebrows gave away too much, even if his face remained stoic and his body was like that of a demigod. “You’re lying.”

You don't know what made you say that. Accusing your boss of lying. What a way to close every door door of opportunity that might have been available to you, had you just kept your mouth shut.

Instead of getting you fired immediately on the spot, Hunter just looked at you, a casual smirk visible for a moment. “You’re right,” he peered down at his drink, lifted it to his lips, “I am.”

So he was unhappy. Regardless of his NXT slowly becoming the most loved and most innovative brand on the WWE, he was unsatisfied. You wondered, sadly, what had happened to his soul. There was something there, something that you couldn't recall even though you dug through the deepest recesses of your adolescent memories to find it.

You shook the thoughts away. Whatever it was, it would come to you later. Beating yourself up about it now would do no good. You grabbed another one of the girls’ unfinished drinks and downed it in one gulp, set the glass down, admiring how awfully disgusting it was as you squinted and pursed your lips. The liquid burned through your veins quickly, and it wasn't long before you began to feel a euphoric buzz.

It was then you realized it wasn't just your head that was buzzing. You looked down at your phone, gut wrenching in panic and disbelief as you read the caller ID: SAMI ZAYN.

He was calling you. But it wasn't the right time. Not when you were already closing in on inebriated. You ignored it, every fiber of your being rationalizing the move as logical, placing your phone back in your jacket pocket.

“That was absolutely disgusting. Come dance with me.”

“Excuse me?” Hunter’s voice bordered on astonished, his eyes admiring you in respect at your strange request.

“Come on, get up,” you managed to stand, the mixture of drinks in your system getting the better of your judgement as you ordered your boss around. “Let’s go, big guy, you’re going to dance with me.”

His eyes gleamed playfully as he stood up, fingers reaching for your elbow just in case he needed to steady you on your feet. “Am I?”

“Damn right ya fuckin’ are, let’s go, chop chop.” Your hands clapped together, earning a burst of laughter from the man.

But true to his maturity, he ignored the drunken demands and went with you, helping you down the steps to the first floor.

“Hunter, nice to see you down - [Y/N], are you drunk already?” Charlotte gasped, lifting your chin as you shook your head no.

“I think she’s a lightweight,” Hunter grinned, pleasantly amused.

“I’m not a lightweight, but damn, is it getting hot in here.” You shook your jacket off your shoulders, handing it to Hunter.

Sasha appeared from the midst of the mob, grabbing you and pulling you towards the middle of the dance floor. “You, dancing, now,” she ordered.

Charlotte turned back to face Hunter. “You comin’, Hunter? We’ll dance with you, it’ll be fun.”

“No, you guys go on ahead. I need another drink, I’ll be at the bar.” His hands were fidgeting as he reached to unbutton another button from his shirt. Was it getting hot in here? He squared his shoulders, standing at the counter, one finger up to catch the attention of the bartender. He glanced back to the dance floor, his gaze steadying on you.

You were buzzing like nobody’s business, grinding all up on Sasha and Charlotte as they whooped and hollered, egging you on.

Hunter couldn't seem to hold back a smile, as he saw you pull some moves he hadn't seen in years. As you danced, his eyes gingerly darted away from your face and down to your body, staring at the sequined fabric rising higher up your thigh, the delicate way that your fingers grazed at your skin, the gleaming drops perspiring at the crevice between your breasts. God, you were doing things to him that you didn't know and couldn't understand.

He shuffled around, taking another sip of his drink, enjoying the burning sensation as the elixir ran down his throat. He growled, swallowing the feeling you elicited from him.

“I see you,” Alexa sang quietly, causing Hunter’s gaze to break from your skin. Had he been anyone else, he might have jumped at her voice. As it was, Triple H couldn't be and was never caught off guard, at least not entirely.

“And I see you, Miss Bliss. Where had you gone off to?”

“Me?” She asked, the color rising in her cheeks. How easy it was to misdirect someone who had yet to come into her own. But he had a feeling he’d make a performer of her yet. “Oh, nowhere.”

She pulled her black choker higher up her throat, but not before he caught the crimson mark of a hickey at the crook of her neck and shoulder. “Of course,” he said as he raised a brow and his glass, “nowhere. You girls really need to learn how to lie better.”

She blushed again, scurrying away to find you and the rest of the girls.

He watched as she joined you at the start of a new song, your hips swaying to the gentler beat of the music, as your hands grazed the edges of your curves, drawing them closer up your body, and he could’ve sworn he saw you squeeze your breasts together, before raising your hands above your head. As if you were taunting him. As if you were knowingly flirting with him from across the room.

He shook his head at the thought, looking away. Impossible. Improbable. Ludicrous.

No way in hell.

You were fucking wasted, and that was that. There was no way you were doing this with the intent to fluster him.

Or were you?

The phone in your jacket pocket began to buzz. Hunter looked at the caller ID. SAMI ZAYN. He wondered if he should answer, remembering what he had witnessed weeks before.

Yeah, he thought, I’ll answer.

“Hello?”

“Hey, I - wait, you’re not [Y/N].” Sami sounded taken aback, stunned.

“No, Sami, it’s me, Hunter. I took her out for drinks. She’s on the dance floor right now, having the time of her life.” He left out the bit where the two of you were not alone.

“Oh, um, I wasn’t aware that - uh, never mind. C-could, could you tell her I called?”

“Sure thing, Sami. I’ll see you in couple days, right?”

“D-definitely, of course. See ya, boss.”

Hunter hung up the phone, deleted the call from Recents, and placed your phone back in your jacket pocket, his face hiding his thoughts.

He wasn’t going to tell you Sami called, and that was the end of it.

Part Three

Last Note: wow so....I’m really getting into this. Tell me what you think??? Thanks, babes! - Emiliana

[theresnosafeharbor4myships]

I know I both died and LIVED with that EW photo shoot pics and video yesterday (see them here if you’ve been living under a rock), so this story is borne from that McReedus/Caryl(?) yumminess!

Picture Perfect - Chapter 1 (also on 9L)

She couldn’t even remember now how she’d gotten him to agree to dress and up and go to the party, but it likely had something to do with the promise of alcohol and bedroom favors.

The walls had kept them safe for two years now by the calendar that one of the Alexandrians kept, and the party idea—a prom, really—had come from Carl and Enid. Rick had agreed, though most everyone knew Michonne had made the final call; she never could say no to the kid…who was no longer such a kid, and Rick couldn’t say no to her.

Everyone ransacked the compound for business and ball gown attire, and—once again, at Michonne’s behest—Rick, Rosita, and Daryl had scoured the outside for the same on their most recent run.

Everything Carol had on belonged to someone else, and she couldn’t have cared less.

She tugged the floor-length dress down to lay flat against her curves and ran her hands along the deep blue sequined gown sheathing her body. It shimmered reflections around the room due to the sunlight streaming in through the upstairs window. The neckline cut straight across her collarbones and gave her neck a graceful appearance, and the dangling, bejeweled earrings set in silver granted her an elegance she could never recall having before. Small sequins covering the dress gave way to larger one at the waist, and from the hips down the adornments looked like flower petals. A wide beaded bracelet and its matching ring with a garnet stone completed the ensemble, and she peered at her reflection in the bedroom mirror, stunned at the beautiful creature staring back at her. She hadn’t looked this stylish in…never…she’d never gone anywhere that required her to get dolled up. Who’d have guessed that it would take surviving the end of the world to have an opportunity to feel like a movie star?

She fluffed her hair around the crown of her head and slipped her feet into the comfy black ballet slipper-shoes Michonne had found. “Better for the feet after all these years without heels,” she explained with a smile as she’d handed them to Carol.

The bedroom door opened, and Carol turned to see Daryl, shower-fresh, with a t-shirt on and a towel wrapped around his waist, frozen in place, his gaze fixed on her.

“Well?” She edged her hip out and upturned her hands. “Whaddya think?”

Daryl stayed stock still, tongue frozen, mesmerized, transfixed by the beauty before him. He couldn’t move. The glittering dress hugged her pleasantly, showcasing her breasts, then cinched in at the waist, highlighted her flat belly and fell in flowered waves to her feet. She stole the breath right out of his lungs.

Carol waited several seconds, but his immobility made her anxious. Maybe she’d overestimated her appearance because she hadn’t worn a dress or makeup in eons. Maybe the dress was too much.

Her hands dropped slowly to her side, and she straightened, standing her full height of five and a half feet. “Doesn’t look that bad, does it?” she asked, doubt hedging into the question.

“Holy hell,” he finally mumbled. Without taking his eyes off of her, he entered the room fully and kicked the door closed behind him, stalking towards her intently. “You look amazin’,” he murmured gruffly before sliding one hand into her perfectly coifed hair and the other around her waist and kissing her soundly.

Relief flooded Carol and she eased into the kiss and his arms until she could no longer breathe.

“Daryl,” she whispered as she pulled away from him and rested her forehead against his, trying to catch her breath. “We can’t start this now.” She cleared her throat and drew away to look at him. “We have to leave soon.”

“Screw that,” he mumbled and leaned toward her again. “You look hot.”

She let him kiss her again, but this time when she pulled away, she stepped back from him. “Thank you,” she acknowledged with a smile and a blush. “But we still have to go soon.”

His look of appreciation eased into one of quiet discontent. “No gettin’ outta it?” he asked with a hint of hope.

She turned her thousand-watt smile on him before turning to grab his suit out of the closet. “Nope. It’s for Carl and Enid and the other kids.” She looked at him intently. “And for us. For surviving and taking care of our family. To celebrate. To live.”

He nodded, his heart softening. The kids wanted it, and they all deserved to have some fun.

And champagne. He’d found the stash in someone’s attic not long ago, and though it wasn’t hard liquor, he couldn’t wait to partake. To ease the tension of life always in question. And to see Carol let loose. He’d give his right hand to see her drunk, and tonight he might have that chance—without losing an appendage.

They’d discussed it once: he drank to chase the pain away and make his mind numb, and became an angry drunk; the few times she’d drunk—before she’d married a monster and needed her wits about her—she lost her inhibitions, dancing and gigging and getting all touchy-feely.

He couldn’t wait.

“Alright,” he conceded, taking the proffered suit. He laid it on the bed and tossed the t-shirt off. Reaching for the long-sleeved black dress shirt, he turned to find Carol watching him, an appreciative look on her face.

He stood up slowly and faced her, watching her eyes graze his body, from his freshly washed, too-long hair to the collarbones that he thought stood out too prominently, across his shoulders and chest to linger at the tattoo above his heart, down over his abs and to his tapered waist. His blood pounded furiously, both aroused and embarrassed by her bold assessment of him, but he waited until her gaze flicked back to his eyes before asking, “Sure you don’t wanna stay here?”

“I do wanna stay,” she said heatedly. “But we’re still going.”

“Later, then,” he promised, giving her a wink.

She watched as he put the shirt on, then turned away as he tossed the towel into the hamper. “Cain’t be watchin’ you watchin’ me if you wanna get outta here anytime soon,” he grumbled.

She smiled, her chest tightening at the affect she had on him. She’d never thought it possible.

When he was clothed, he turned to her for approval, standing tall and uncomfortably rigid.

She caressed his form with her eyes again, noting the width of his broad shoulders, the tapering of his torso to his waist, the long, lean legs, and all of them clad in black so fetching on him, she viscerally understood why he’d wanted to stay in their room.

“My outlaw,” she drawled. “My man in black.”

Her sultry voice had his blood racing, but instead of ravaging her, he snatched the black tie off the bed and stood in front of the mirror.

After several failed attempts at securing the noose around his neck, he felt her hand on his bicep, turning him to face her.

Carol smiled—again with the sultry, he thought—took the tie ends from him, and deftly began knotting it. He stared down at her, amazed as always at the things he didn’t know she knew how to do.

“How’d you learn how to tie ties?”

She glanced up at him through her lashes. “My parents had date night every Thursday evening when I was a kid, and I used to help my dad pick out his ties. Used to beg him to teach me how to make it ‘knot but not hurt.’ He found that amusing,” she recalled with a smile. “So he taught me. There you go,” she announced, gently pushing the knot up to his throat and running her hand down the length of the tie.

“Don’t tease, Carol,” he warned.

She gave him a cheeky grin, a peck on the lips, and grabbed the suit jacket off the bed with one hand and his hand with the other. “Let’s go, lover,” she teased, and pulled him out the door.

[lovelawactually]

Anyone Who Had A Heart

Tori wanted nothing more than get herself cleaned up, her skin was salted with dried sweat - the leather of her armor had been nearly soaked through from her training session with Zoro.  She also wanted to try to find Law and talk to him before she set out to accomplish the tasks she had laid out for herself for the day - she wondered where he had gone off to - he was no longer standing on the deck of his ship.  She sensed that something was troubling him - she wanted to find out what.  

A loud growl from her stomach reminded her that she had not eaten since dinner the night before, and she realized just how hungry she was.  She opted to stop in the Galley to grab something that she could eat on the go before heading to her ship to hit the shower.  Then she would start setting her plans in motion for the upcoming Halloween celebration.  She would have to find Law at some point afterward, it would probably be difficult to find him in a place that he would be willing - or able - to talk to her anyway.  Satisfied with her course of action, she hopped up onto the deck of the Polar Tang and darted toward the Galley.  

Tori slipped into the kitchen, to have a look in the industrial sized refrigerator - hoping to find something quick that she could snack on until the crew that was on galley duty had the evening’s meal ready.  Ikkaku poked her head around the corner, “Oi!  Get your mitts outta there, you -“  The sentence was cut short as Tori closed the door, two small containers in her hands.  Ikkaku smiled at her, “Oh, it’s you Tori.  Sorry about that - I thought you were Clione or Uni - they are always stealing food.”  Tori chucked, “No problem.  I hope it’s okay that I take these.  I will clean up after myself.”  Ikkaku waved her hands, “Don’t worry about it, you can just leave the empties in the sink - I will take care of them.”  Tori took a bite of the food that was in the container - leftovers from lunch.  Her eyes widened at how delicious it tasted, and she wondered if it was because she was so hungry - or it was just that good.  She yelled to get the attention of Ikkaku, who had gone back to prepping the ingredients for the next meal.  “Ikkaku?  Did you make this?  It’s amazing.”  

Ikakku stepped into the doorway, wiping her hands on a towel - she took a look at the container that Tori was holding, “The curry?  Yeah.  It’s kinda my specialty.”  Tori scooped another bite into her mouth, “It’s really, really good.”  She stopped chewing as a thought occurred to her, “You know - I was thinking of having Bepo, Penguin, and Shachi take charge of the menu for the Halloween party, but - how would you feel about doing it?  I mean, they could still help you - assuming you would be up for it.”  Ikkoku’s eyes lit up, “So - they would basically work - for me?”  Tori nodded, “Sure.  My only request is that you at least make some of this curry.”  Ikkaku rubbed her hands together, the thought of being slave-driver to Penguin and Shachi filled her with glee.  “I would be more than happy to do it.  Count me in.”

With her stomach full and fresh from the shower - Tori headed toward the workshop.  She suspected that she would find Usopp there - along with Franky and Robin.  She made a detour past Law’s office - poking her head in to see if he was there - she was surprised to find that he was not, but Robin was. She was replacing a book on one of the shelves.  “Oh - hello, Robin.”  A warm smile spread across Robin’s face as she faced Tori, “Hello there, Tori-kun.  How is the party planning coming along?”  Tori smiled, “So far, so good - although I’ve only managed to get started a bit ago.  The food situation seems to be in good hands with Ikkaku.”  Robin nodded her agreement, “A sound choice, for sure.  If there is anything I can do to help, please, do not hesitate to ask.”  

“I was actually heading to the workshop to speak to you about that.  I’ve heard that you can spin quite a scary tale.  I thought you might tell some of your favorites at the party - to really set the mood.”  Tori was excited to hear what spooky stories Robin would choose to tell, and it showed.  Robin smiled and nodded, “Of course.  It would be my pleasure.”  She turned to put the book that remained in her hand back into place on the shelf.  “Honestly, I was shocked to hear that Law was going to allow a party to take place - but then again, you’ve had quite an impact on him - so perhaps, it shouldn’t have surprised me at all.”  Tori’s cheeks pinked at Robin’s comment - she wondered just what Robin meant - she was aware of the ways that Law’s behavior toward her had changed, but Robin had been with him longer -  in some ways, she had a much broader frame of reference where he was concerned.  

“I don’t know, Robin - it definitely took some convincing, and he still seems to be uncertain about some aspects - but I am doing my best to ease any concerns he has.  I am hoping that all goes well, it should be a lot of fun - and well deserved by all.”  Robin gave Tori a knowing look, “I am sure - he is not one to be easily swayed, but you managed to do what no one else would - or could.  He is different now that you are here - for as much as he tries to hide it, he seems happy - as do you.”  She gently placed a hand on Tori’s shoulder, “It’s a wonderful thing when people, like he and I - can find someone who is unafraid of the darkness we carry - someone who understands and accepts us, whose mere presence roars louder than our demons.”  Robin smiled warmly, “I have a great deal of care and respect for Law - for your part in the change in him, you have my thanks.  I am glad you found each other.”

Tori lowered her head, eyes closed.  The sentiment of Robin’s words echoed how Tori felt about Law - how she sensed, or had maybe just hoped that he felt about her as well - until now.   She raised her head, her voice barely a whisper, “Is he really that different?”  Robin leaned closer, looking Tori in the eyes.  “He is - and it is obvious, to those of us that can recognize it.”

[goodnightandbillyrobicheaux]

Faraquez Cook Off Fic

Josh grinned at the sound of the front door opening and shutting again. "I swear officer! I'm done with the hard stuff! I'm just cooking dinner for my amazingly sexy husband..." He felt a warm pair of lips on his neck shortly after. "I'm afraid I may have to search you for contraband, sir." Vas whispered in his ear, his hand snaking downward to squeeze at a firm ass cheek. "Hey now, slow down there law dog." Josh shrugged him off. "You'll make me burn your dinner." "Hmm." Vas hummed, receiving the soft little kiss on the mouth that Josh offered before he turned his attention back to the stove. Vas kept a hold around his husband's waist as he cooked. "How was work?" Josh asked. "Not nearly as busy as it was yesterday, thank God." Vas replied, resting his head on Josh's shoulder. "What're you making?" "A little seafood medley for my love." Josh smiled at him, flipping the scallops he was currently frying. "I went down to the pier today. Got nice fresh shrimp, scallops, and squid." "That the calamari?" Vas asked with a yawn as he watched Josh cook over his shoulder. "I think you cut it a little thick, Guero." "For your information, oh master chef, these are scallops and I cut them like a damn professional." Josh replied smugly. Vas made a face. "You don't fry scallops." He told Josh. Said red head turned to look at him with an irritated frown. "Excuse me?" He asked. "You can't cook them like that, Guero." Vas continued, letting go of Josh's hips. "Look." He pointed. "They're gonna be all greased up and fatty now." "Your point?" Josh asked. "I don't wanna put a greasy lard ball into my mouth or my stomach. You know I'm on a diet!" Vas argued, hands now on his hips. "Well excuse me for trying to make your whiny ass dinner!" Josh fired back. "If you want them cooked different maybe you should do it yourself!" "Guero don't...." Vas sighed, trying to stop Josh before he removed his apron and shoved it at Vas, then slamming his spatula down on the counter by the stove and storming out of the kitchen. Vas sighed and proceeded to finish the meal on his own. ....... "This is stupid." Vas rolled his eyes, his arms crossed over his chest. "No. It's necessary." Josh countered, setting out all of their supplies on the kitchen counter. "You could just apologize and admit you can't fry scallops you know." Vas grinned hopefully at him. Josh chuckled and shook his head. "Yeah. You wish, buddy. Get an apron on. They'll be here any minute." He told his husband, tossing him a pink apron that read 'Kiss the Cook' across the chest in rhinestones. "Where did this come from?" Vasquez asked, glaring at Josh. "It was my grandma's." Josh but his lip, trying not to laugh. "You went out and bought this didn't you!?" Vas growled. The doorbell rang, interrupting their little spat and possibly saving Josh's life at that point. "Hey guys. Come on in." Joshua greeted the rest of their little gang at the door. They didn't tell them of their plan until everyone had socialized a bit and had a few glasses of wine. In Josh's experience, It was always better to confess whatever you'd been hiding after the alcohol was served. "You invited us here under false pretenses." Goodnight accused. "Hey, look at it this way. You guys get a free three course meal plus alcohol and all ya gotta do is sit there and tell us which plate you like better." Josh tried to convince them all. "May I ask why you're doing this?" Emma spoke up. "You know it's just gonna cause hurt feelings." "Don't be a party pooper." Josh told her. "This is gonna be fun." Red shrugged, taking another sip of wine from his glass. "See? Red's in!" Josh nodded toward their Comanche friend. "Hey, free wine. Free food. I'm happy." Red replied with a smile. "Well I suppose so long as neither of you poisons anyone it could be fun." Jack finally gave in. "There, now see? This is gonna be a party. Now you all stay there and we'll bring the food to you." Josh smiled his signature goofy smile. The others weren't very optimistic at first but the first dish wasn't that bad. The boys started them off with shrimp based appetizers. Josh brought out a shrimp cocktail while Vas made shrimp tempura, which Billy was quite fond of. "Billy that really hurts." Josh whined. "All you did was clean a few shrimp and place them around a glass filled with cocktail sauce." Billy firmly reminded him, defending his position on the matter. "Billy's worth more points." Vas declared. "Him being a professional chef and all." "Bull!" Josh growled. "Boys, just get on with the next course without fighting again please." Sam sighed, rubbing his temples. These children really stressed him out at times. Especially these particular two. There were several complains about dessert being served after the appetizer, but of course Josh wouldn't let the main course come till last. He claimed it was the grand finale. "You can't just serve dessert before the main course." Emma told their two wannabe chefs. "She's right." Teddy agreed. "It throws everything out of whack." "Teddy your brain is outta whack." Josh snorted. "Everyone just be quiet and taste the damn desserts." Vas's ended up being the favorite. Cheesecake with raspberries and white chocolate would be a favorite of any sane person, though. "You all are startin' to piss me off." Josh muttered after the judges had given their ruling. "You're just a sore loser." Vas beamed. "Who doesn't like churros!?" Josh demanded. "Josh it's not that we didn't like them." Goody tried to explain. "It's that they had street fair written all over them. Not upper middle class dinner party." Vas had a smug grin on his face and Josh shot him a glare. By now he was so discouraged that he didn't even want to bring out the main course. They did though, of course, and once again Vasquez's seared scallops triumphed over Josh's fried ones. "Why!?" He demanded the others as they finished up their meals. "Joshua, dear." Goody started. "Everything you've given us has been dipped in fat and fried twice over." "So what? That's what Americans eat!" Josh argued. "Not all." Emma spoke up. "Some people prefer a healthier, less grease filled meal." "Plus, too much fry batter cancels out all the natural flavors." Billy added. "If you're gonna fry something at least be sure you can still taste whatever it is." Josh was defeated and forced to apologize to his husband for the night before. Vas was forgiving, but also a little bit of a braggart. He wouldn't let it drop that he'd won. Not until that night anyway before they went to bed. Josh was sitting up in bed flipping through channels when Vas got out of the shower. "What're we watching tonight, Guero?" He asked, still drying his hair with a towel. "Don't know." Josh shrugged. "There's nothin' good on." Vas climbed into bed next to him, taking his husband into his arms and kissing down his neck tenderly. "I'm sorry I was so smug about winning tonight." He told him. Josh shrugged again. "Guess some people just can't appreciate a nice all American meal." He sighed. Vas chuckled. "Why don't I make it up to you and we can go out to eat tomorrow?" He suggested. "Only if it's Olive Garden." Josh insisted. "Done." Vas agreed, resting his chin on Josh's shoulder as the other man flipped through more channels before finally landing on 'Cupcake Wars'. "This show always puts me in the mood to make cupcakes." Vas told his husband. "Just be glad we didn't have a cupcake contest." Josh told him. "Hm? Whys that?" Vas asked him. "Duh. My cupcakes would dominate yours." Josh stated with confidence. Vas gave a snort. "Want me to prove it?" Josh challenged. "Why don't we just make a midnight run to the bakery downtown instead?" Vas suggested. "Hell, I'm game." Josh replied, swinging out of bed and going to grab his shoes. Vas followed him out of the bedroom, grabbing the car keys and giving Josh's ass a little tap. THE END

[aghostpost]

Heatwave Pt. 2 (Frank Castle x Reader)

A/N: Okay here’s part two (part one if you missed it)! Just so there’s no confusion this was only made to be a two part story so please don’t expect/look for a third part or more! Enjoy! ♥

Warning(s): NSFW, language

Word Count: 4088

What a rollercoaster of a visit this was. From arguing with me and my ex to fixing my air conditioner to now showering together. And let’s be real, showering was all we were doing since the space reduced to a quarter its size the moment he stepped in with me. Not to mention shower sex was impractical, uncomfortable as hell, and only happened in movies with the help of some Hollywood magic.

We started from the top and worked our way down, pouring shampoo in his hand. He ducked his head under the stream to wet it and worked a lather into what was now a grown out haircut. He was military, that much was painfully obvious, and when we first met his hair was low to the scalp. Now it had grown a few inches to a pile of short, dark curls. Meanwhile I took my time washing his back, my eyes on every soapy peak and valley of his muscles; if possible I’d do this forever. He turned around to tilt his head back and rinse, so I washed his chest but found it impossible to navigate around the mess of bruises. I didn’t know which were still fresh and tender, which ones didn’t hurt so much anymore. After running his hands through his now suds-free hair he stared at me, noticing my aversion, and took the cloth and soap from me to wash himself. He had less regards for his wounds than I did, washing without a wince as if he was in perfect condition and there wasn’t a wine-colored stain in sight.

It was my turn now. I stood in front of him so he wouldn’t block the shower spray and to also makes thing a bit easier for myself. I was doing a good job at keeping my eyes above the belt but I could only fight this internal struggle for so much longer. I felt a rough hand sweep across the back of my neck, brushing my hair towards my front and out of the way. It was the first time he touched me so softly, I couldn’t help but notice. A touch like that I would have remembered.

The time to battle with temptation was cut down to a third, and I wasn’t winning.

He poured some of my bodywash in the cloth and put it to my back. My eyes closed and I just basked in the moment, not remembering the last time I was touched this way. “I overstepped,” his voice seemingly boomed over the calm sound of the water, snapping me out of my reverie. “You’re right, it was none’a my business. I had no right stickin’ my nose in it.”  He took the cloth over my right shoulder and massaged the soap into my skin in circles, his hand firm and applying just the right amount of pressure. “... You gonna say somethin’ to me?”

After one final rinse of my face I was ready to get out. “You need to condition.”

“What?”

I turned around, rinsing my back and handing him my bottle of conditioner. “You shampoo then you condition, unless you want dry hair.” I stepped out and grabbed my robe, leaving the towel I planned to wrap around my head folded by the sink for Frank. Walking to my bedroom I already noticed a difference in the temperature of the apartment, fucking thankfully. I went to the living room to close windows but Frank seemed to have taken care of it already, leaving the fan turned off and on the floor by its respective outlet. I cracked open the door to Landon’s room so it could cool off and noticed this window hadn’t been touched. He hadn’t bothered my son’s space out of respect. I looked around the room and felt myself smile at the drawings and toys strewn about. Never have I felt my heart swell with so much love for anyone, not even Jason. No, the love for my son was something else entirely.

After closing his window I headed back to my room, grabbing my brush before my hair could dry a tangled mess. I watched myself in the mirror, examined every crease and pore in my face. I looked stressed. The only thing I wanted right now was a plate of ribs, maybe two more beers and a nap. That sounded heavenly. The shower stopped running and when I looked to my left I caught Frank walking towards me with his clothes in his hands, towel wrapped around his waist.

“You hungry?”

He shrugged. “I could eat…”

After taking his clothes from him I went to toss them in the washer for a quick clean, since I didn’t tell him to shower just to throw on dirty clothes. And I didn’t have ribs, but there was some chicken I had marinating for me and Landon to have tonight. I got it into the oven and took out a bag of frozen green beans before heading back to my room, where Frank was staring out of the window.

“You givin’ someone a show?”

“Didn’t know you smoked.” He looked pointedly at the pack of cigarettes sitting on the windowsill and the small flower pot full of butts and ashes. There was an orange marigold in there at one point but it died many moons ago.

I shrugged. “Every now and then. I like to go out on the fire escape, clear my head at night.” He looked back out the window, cocking his head to one side. “You concerned about my health now?”

“Just makin’ observations. Gettin’ to know you and all, hm?”

I moved to stand behind him, wondering what he could possibly be looking at. I didn’t have much of a view from here unless I was out on the fire escape, so I couldn’t imagine what was keeping his interest. “What’re you looking at?”

“Not lookin’, listenin’.”

I understood that. I loved listening to the sounds of the city; the horns blaring and sirens passing by, music blasting in passing cars. Hell, even my neighbors arguing just to have makeup sex right after was a treat. My hand found its way to his hair as I successfully redirected his attention. “What do you hear?”

“S’at you tryna see if I, uhhh... conditioned?”

At that I cracked a grin. “Shut up,” I mumbled, fingering his hair for a moment more before dropping my arm, walking back to my dresser for a pair of underwear. I caught my face in the mirror again. I needed a reason to get pretty, to dress up and throw on more than just chapstick and mascara. It seemed like outta nowhere I was too busy with Landon, work, and the rise in temperature to fix myself up; too worried the heat would just melt off any makeup I wore. “How do I look, Frank?”

“Now Y/N, usually when a woman asks that it’s never a simple good or bad, fine, pretty… That’s a very loaded question.” He scratched the back of his head and turned from the window to look at me. “You want a certain answer in particular?”

“Just an honest one. If it’s one thing I know you can do it’s honesty.”

He folded his arms and leaned against the window frame, eyeing me up and down. “Fatigued.”

“Fatigued,” I repeated.

“Like you need a vacation.”

My brows shot up in agreeance, shocked at how spot on he was. “A vacation… Time away from Hell’s Kitchen? Sounds about right.”

“Where would you go?”

I sighed, sitting at the foot of my bed. “Someplace quiet. Not too hot, not too cold, no hustle and bustle of the city. I wanna smell fresh air; look up and see stars at night, not apartment buildings and smog.”

“Yeah? You know, sometimes I have dreams too,” he replied with half a smug grin.

“Such an asshole-”

“-Hey, you wanted honesty, didn’t you?”

“You shooting me down isn’t honest, it’s you being a wiseass.”

He sat on my windowsill and extended his legs before him, crossing them at the ankles and leaning back against the glass. We stared at each other silently before I looked away to focus on keeping my breathing even. “So… Is honesty the only thing I can do?”

“I said it’s one thing that I know for certain.”

“Hm,” he said with a nod to himself. “You sure about that?”

“Well, apparently you can fix an air conditioner.” I gave him a quick lookover. “Is there a specific compliment you’re fishin’ for?”

“No.”

Back to staring in silence. He was very comfortable looking at me without saying a word for what seemed like hours. I on the other hand couldn’t stand being under his steel gaze. The silence wasn’t the issue, but looking at him and feeling him burn a hole through me? My thighs clenched. I cleared my throat. “You mind if I get dressed?” I rose and said no more, hoping he caught my drift. I was in a weird space right now with Frank. My upset from earlier was now only a lingering memory, overshadowed by my attraction to him in this very moment. Him, wrapped in a towel, half naked, dripping fresh from the shower, hair a mess, muscles and all. But I couldn’t let him get off easy, even if it meant a little sexual pain and suffering for myself. He stood and walked pass me as I dug for a pair of shorts in the dresser. I heard my bedroom door close and turned to my left, seeing him leaning against the doorframe.

“I don’t mind at all. Get dressed. Let’s see how far you get,” he challenged. That being said I knew I wouldn’t get far. The moment my hands went to the belt of my robe he pushed himself off the wall, but I shook my head and dissuaded him from making any further advances.

“You think I should have sex with you, Frank?”

“Is there something else you’d rather be doing right now, Y/N?”

“Yes, getting dressed. Enjoying cool air before that shitty AC breaks again. Lying down since, as you pointed out, I’m so fatigued.”

“Right.” My words fell on deaf ears. I knew I failed to convince him sex wasn’t an option because with Frank it was always an option; he was a hard man to say no to. He came to me and untied my robe, black eyes on mine. “You’re not very good at fighting this side of you.”

“Fuck you,” I shot back with very little bite, his close proximity making me nervous. I was pathetic and he probably knew it as an arrogant smile broke his lips. I was prepared to knock that arrogance down a peg by embracing some of my own.

Or at least faking it ‘til I made it.

I grabbed the tucked in edges of the towel wrapped around his waist, looking him in the face. He didn’t take my robe off but simply left it open and rested his hands on my waist. “I did use that conditioner shit, if you were wondering,” he admitted.

“I appreciate your candor,” I replied coolly, my eyes not breaking from his. “Can I offer my moment of truth now?”

“Don’t see why not.”

“... I hit you earlier.”

He nodded slowly. “Yeah, I was there. I remember it.”

“I should apologize, don’t you think?”

“I think you should never apologize if it isn’t genuine.”

“You wanna know what I think?” I pulled at the towel until it fell to the floor. He didn’t respond, but I knew I had his attention. “I think you liked it, Frank.”

“S’at right?” He spoke just loud enough for me to make out the words, stepping closer to me and challenging the authority I’d taken here. We were standing so close I swore I could feel the hairs on his legs tickling my exposed thighs. “If I did?”

“If you did,” I spoke, my fingers itching to reach out and grab at every inch of him, “then that speaks very interesting volumes about you.”

“Does it?” He pinched the back of my robe and slowly began pulling it away from my body, the thin cotton sliding at slug-like pace down my shoulders.

“Explains all the bumps and bruises you’re covered in. A human punching bag? Maybe you’re in some kinda fight club or somethin’...”

“Maybe. Maybe I manage to piss off women all throughout the city and these are my battle scars.”

“After today I’m almost inclined to believe you.”

He smirked and looked me up and down before sighing. “You ready or what?”

“For?”

“Me to remind you of the other thing I can do for sure...” Whether I was ready or not didn’t matter since he didn’t wait for a response to tug my robe the remainder of the way off and flinging it to the corner. He held onto my waist as he turned to take a seat at the foot of my bed where his lips forcefully tangled with mine. My hands instantly flew to his freshly conditioned hair as I felt his lips burn holes wherever they landed; my lips, my jaw, my neck and shoulders. When his mouth found my breast my back arched towards him, pushing myself further into him and not wanting his tongue to ever lift from my skin. His dick was sandwiched between our bodies and I felt it begin to swell, and without a single doubt in my mind I was throbbing between my legs for him. It was funny and also incredibly annoying, how my pussy ached for Frank whether he was coming or going. It ached before sex in anticipation and it sure as hell ached after. He was vanilla through and through so he wasn’t necessarily rough with sex, but a man of his size, in body and dick, couldn’t help but naturally put an exhausting pounding on you.

A large hand crept up my neck and to my jaw before a finger slipped between my lips. His forehead pressed to mine as those obsidian eyes watched intensely as I sucked the appendage. After pushing a second finger in, his lips found the corner of mine, kissing me before moving to scrape his teeth along my collarbone. The hot air escaping him raised goosebumps on whatever stretch of skin it hit and I salivated as a result, from both pairs of lips. Without warning he removed the slicked fingers from my mouth and slide them inside of me, all the way to the bruised knuckles of his middle and index fingers. “Holy shit,” I breathed.

“Ride ‘em,” he commanded. He held his hand completely still as I worked my body up and down. I clung to him, wrapping my arms over his shoulders and burying my face in his neck. He smelled just like my shower gel; I smiled amidst the pleasure with a chuckle. “What?”

“You smell like me.”

“Is this a bad thing?”

“It’s… an odd thing.”

He smiled to himself and kissed me with an uncharacteristic sweetness. “Ride.” And ride I did. While Frank may not venture on the kinky side often, he knew more than enough about denying an orgasm. It’s like he had a sensor that went off the moment I even thought about cumming. Just as I reached the brink of climax he removed his fingers from me, returning them to my mouth. “Tastes like you too, huh?” I bit down at his arrogance and he laughed, pulling his fingers from my mouth and kissing me as he lifted me onto his now erect cock. Good thing too, I was getting bothered by it jabbing me in the gut. I sighed into his mouth as he proceeded to swallow my moans whole, his grip on my waist increasing as I eagerly bounced on him. Guess he wanted me to be as bruised as he always was, give me battle scars of my own.

And he couldn’t have been more right: this was without a doubt one thing I knew he could do. Fuck me into another plane of existence. He rolled me over onto the edge of the bed hooking my legs around his waist, driving himself deeper into me with each thrust. All ability to form words flew out the window since the most I could utter was extremely broken English and cries for anyone in the heavens to send help. I managed to pry my eyes open to stare at him; he was looking at my body like a vampire eyeing a throbbing neck vein. He wanted to sink his teeth in and drain me for every drop I was worth, but for whatever reason was exercising self control. The kinda self control you manage to develop after serving in the military with intense training. Part of me wanted him to lose control just to see the other side to Frank, but the other part, the one that took him in for his size and scarred body? That part warned me it was probably best I didn’t push him. “I’m sorry,” I managed to spit out.

“What?” he choked out between ragged breaths.

“Sss, for hitting you.” He paused, which I was somewhat grateful for because it gave me a chance to catch my breath. I looked at his confusion riddled face. “I shouldn’a done that. I crossed a- Frank!” With an eyeroll and a signature annoyed grunt he lifted me from the bed and I crashed against the wall. Quickly he resumed slamming himself into me, holding my thighs around his waist. The air conditioner hadn’t been running long enough to cool off my room, so in addition to the physical activity the beads of sweat travelling down his forehead made sense. My nails dragged across his back, surely vandalizing his body even further, but he didn’t seem to mind. Instead of complaining he hiked my legs up even higher, pushed himself deeper and harder.

“Don’t apologize again.” His voice husky and demanding, telling me and not suggesting.

No. In moments as such, rarely did Frank suggest things.

“F-Fine,” I moaned, my body working overtime to say just that one word. My hands tangled in his hair as I kissed him, tasting him and savoring the flavor. Hell, I savored every part of him that I could while I could. I fought to keep my legs tightly around him so I dropped one to the floor. He took the other and straightened it to rest on his shoulder, but at that angle and with that kind of access I instantly cried out. “Fuck!” It was entirely too much and there’d be no way in hell I would last more than two seconds. I buckled at the knees and fell, causing us both to collapse to the floor and taking the curtain rod on the nearby window with us.

“Shit,” I laughed, now on top of his chest, rapidly rising and falling as he panted.

“You pull a muscle or somethin’ there?”

“Fuck you, you were tryna split me in half.”

“And I thought I was outta shape,” he cracked with a grin.

“I can show you how outta shape I am…” I teased, sitting up and slowly starting to ride him.

He sent a sting to my ass with one powerful smack. “Show me...”

The wild origami position against the wall that hit every spot imaginable nearly killed me, but this? Cowgirl, I could manage. A position this simple gave me the sustainability I needed to deal with Frank, someone that seemed to last a fortnight. It was a welcomed change of pace for a while, but it bored me, and I knew he sensed that. He picked up on the fact I wasn’t as sexually reserved as he was. I liked sex and I liked it as hard as I could get it. From the very beginning I told him he didn’t have to be delicate. Maybe he thought he needed to hold back, him being so much bigger than me. But I wasn’t intimidated by it, which he found out very soon.

He shot up and winked before lifting me to turn my around. “On your knees.” Ah yes, the final blow. I grabbed my discarded robe and laid it down before me so my face wouldn’t touch the carpet. As soon as I was on all floors, a firm hand held the back of my neck and forced me down, my back concaving sending my ass to the ceiling. As Frank slowly pushed himself inside of me my eyes rolled back, my breathing stopped, and I believe a chunk of my soul escaped me. This was the vacation I needed. Good sex let me drift off to whatever utopian paradise I needed.

“S’at good?”

I nodded fervently. “Yes yes, it’s great. Oh fuck…”

“I can’t hear you,” he spoke as he slammed into me forcefully.

“Yes! Yes, I love it, Frank, I love it.” I mewled and cried for him on my bedroom floor for the next couple minutes, the hard, cheap carpet burning my knees as he grinded me against it. I wonder if the neighbors below could hear me howling through the floor, possibly into what was my guess their living room ceiling. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum!”

“Lemme have it,” he groaned, his pace quickening as he reached his own climax. But I learned that Frank was a visual man, and I knew the view of my back wasn’t enough to get him over the edge. And me, I wasn’t a selfish lover. So to help us both out I reached beneath me and began rubbing my clit. To the best of my ability I propped myself up on my arm and managed to look over my shoulder into those smoldering eyes, eyes that some might find frightening. To me they just showed how hungry he was for this, which was an enormous turn on. So much of a turn on that I came around his cock, clenching and tightening around him which in turn sent him stiffening and grunting. He quickly pulled himself out of me as I lay there gasping for air. I felt the splatter of something warm and sticky on my lower back, remembering we forgot to use a condom. Not my smartest moment, but everyone has slips in the heat of things.

“Stay still,” he heaved, rising from the floor. I heard him fumbling in the bathroom. When he returned, he bent down and wiped my back with a bit of toilet paper.

“What a gentleman.”

“I do my best.”

After regaining consciousness and coming back to earth I managed to sit up, every ball and joint feeling like they needed oil to work smoothly again. I managed to get up from the floor and pulled my robe back on, grabbed the panties I planned to wear and went to the bathroom myself for a post-sex pee and some clean up. “You know that chicken in the oven’s probably dryer than a bone now, right?”

“You still got beer in the fridge?”

“Uhhh yeah, maybe one or two cans.”

“Toss the chicken; I’m gonna grab a pizza  from down the street.”

“Your clothes aren’t even in the dryer yet-”

“-It’s fine. Hot as it is outside they’ll dry before I even get from in front of the buildin’...”

“Okay. Grab a twenty from the coffee table.” I knew he wouldn’t for two reasons: one, he never took money when I offered. Man of pride, has to care for woman and all the caveman shit. Two, it was the money Jason left, drug money, which he was clearly very adamantly against. As I washed my hands there was a knock on the bathroom door. I dried them on my robe before opening.

“I am sorry about earlier. Don’t think I tried to fuck you into forgivin’ me or anything like that.”

I nodded. “I know.” He pondered for a moment before turning away. “Hey, how come you can apologize but I can’t?”

He chuckled to himself, turning back to me. “Because I’m an asshole and you aren’t.” He kissed me and quickly nipped at my neck before walking towards the apartment door. “Put some clothes on or we’re in for round two when I get back.”

Yeah right. Clothes or not, we both knew round two was imminent probably the moment he walked right back through my door.