#and despite not liking each other they stay because they rag on buck for setting them up because they're the only 2 gay guys he knows

[mattzerella-sticks]

When Eddie comes out as gay the funniest thing Buck can do is set him up on a blind date with Josh only for Buck to learn too late that Josh and Eddie don't like each other.

[sukirichi]

rude boy

— As the captain of the volleyball team, you have to set a good example of staying firm to your rule of not dating the male players...but perhaps you’re willing to bend the rules a little bit when a rude boy is kind enough to show you why you’re wrong.

CONTENT/WARNINGS. smut, multiple orgasms, oral (f receiving), hard!dom suna, slight exhibitionism, doggy style, overstimulation, mild breeding kink, cumplay, implied size kink, degradation with praising kink (LOL), soft! aftercare suna

NOTE. oh hell yeah we’re turning into a haikyuu blog. i can’t believe i’m writing for a character i haven’t even met yet but hey SUNA RINTAROU SUPREMACY. I’m in love with him, maybe much more than I like Akaashi, but can you blame? he’s sexy AF. tagging @noritoshiikamo​

SONG INSPOS. Rude Boy, Disturbia, Where Have You Been All My Life (Rihanna)

Win after win, your school is glorious and honourable once more. Not only did the men’s volleyball team, but as the captain of the women’s team, you proudly carried awards just as they did.

You’re on the dance floor, hazily dancing to the beat with your red cup already empty. It’s rare that people organized after parties but you made it Nationals this time around; surely it’s not too bad to let everyone let loose. Besides, the managers weren’t around and everyone seemed to be having fun, bringing in their plus ones or making out with their fellow teammates.

You scowl at the sight. The one thing you hate the most is breaking formalities and relationship autonomies – everyone knows that you have one strict rule: No dating the players for the men’s team.

Naturally, your team members are more than flabbergasted. The male players are gorgeous after all, but you’ve grown up with the Miya twins; you know beauty could never be enough of a reason for your precious teammates to be used for pleasure and dumped to the side once they’ve had their fill. You all have a bright future ahead of you, with goals and dreams to be fulfilled; one that you won’t allow to be trampled upon by these men.

You’re about to head back to the kitchen for another drink when someone holds you in place, large, calloused hands gripping at your hips. You’re about to elbow the intruder when the familiar scent of musky spicy cologne, mixed with sweat and something that was solely him, you relaxed.

“Can’t keep your hands to yourself for the whole party, Suna?”

“You’re here,” his bored, deep voice is sultry as it coos in your ear. Unable to help yourself, you shiver at his touch, your back pressed against the warmth of his chest. “I don’t see a reason to.”

“You’re a little touchy tonight,” you comment, the glare of your eyes softening as the alcohol loosens the usual composed and strict captain in you, falling back into his touches that tell a promise of something more later. Maybe it was the music, maybe it was because you miss him too – whatever it was, you’re grinding onto his front, the middle blocker humming as a warning in your ear not to tease him too much. You being you though, you only push back harder, allowing him to set the pace by squeezing your waist. “You act like you don’t see me all the time.”

“Doesn’t mean I get to feel you all the time,” his voice turns husky, the mere sound of his voice mixing with the party’s music increasing your arousal. You breathe sharply when Suna cups your core experimentally, thankful that his body is big enough to hide what he’s doing. “Upstairs?”

“Here, Suna? In a party?”

“Can you wait until we get home?” he taunts, chuckling when he sees the way your lips press into a thin line. “As I thought.”

Tch, he doesn’t have to be so cocky about it.

Suna leads you upstairs before pushing you inside the closest empty room, his lips hands everywhere on you the moment the back of your knees hit the bed. He’s eager and needy, his arousal evident from how he’s bucking the tent in his pants against your hands. His tongue prods you to open your mouth, and just to tease him, you refuse him access, slipping your hands inside his pants instead to swipe a thumb over his thumb.

He growls at your teasing, retaliating by pinching your boob followed by a flick over your nipple. Suna isn’t only an expert at volleyball; he’s a master of your body too, able to play you and hit the right spots all the fucking time.

He’s aware of this when he finally gets what he wants – a shocked moan from you that nearly makes you fall back on the bed if it wasn’t for his other hand tugging at your wrist to slam you back to his body. Suna doesn’t waste his time in kissing you, sucking on your tongue until you both start fighting for dominance. Just as he’s lost and crazed by the pent up sexual frustration of watching one another play at court today – to see the other so close yet so far away – you swallow his small, little groans into your mouth, your hand eagerly pumping and spreading his pre-cum all over the base of his shaft.

Suna’s cock twitches into your palm, prompting you to squeeze the length at the same time you bite down on his lip. Hard.

His eyes snap open moments before he comes, his touch rough and even bruising when he pushes your arm away from his. As if a switch has been flipped inside him, his eyes have grown darker, his hands running down your form hungry and even animalistic.

Your eyes widen when Suna goes down on his knees, deft fingers tugging at the waistband of your shorts. “S-Suna, what’re you doing—”

“Shh, I want to taste you,” your hands find home in his hair as he helps you shimmy out of those tight, ass-hugging material that had him rock hard during your whole match. He wants to punish you for it, for nearly distracting him when it was his turn to play; the fact you’re always so unaware of the effect you have over him downright offensive. He has other plans in mind though, plans you’re about to discover when Suna suddenly licks at the swollen nub through your panties, making your thighs shiver. “Haven’t seen this pretty pussy in a long time,” he buries his face in your cunt, taking a huge whiff of the intoxicating scent of your arousal.

It’s almost perverted, you think, the way he’s rolling your hardened clit between his teeth, relishing in the way you’re falling apart for him like this, legs spread wide open.

Suna keeps you steady by squeezing your ass closer to his face until his nose is prodding at your lips, the sounds of your pretty moans and whines erotic enough that he feels like busting a nut right then and there. He holds back though, pulling away to breathe just to bite the lace down your legs. The whole time, he keeps his fox-like eyes on yours that are pooled with lust and something carnal, the grazing of his teeth collecting heat to pool at your core.  

With two long fingers pulling your lips apart just for his eyes, he licks at your blossoming sex, pulling groans from both of you when he dives into your even harder.

Suna’s tongue is lapping at your dripping juices while you look down at him, pupils blown wide just as he smirks, he actually fucking smirks under you, his tongue suddenly plunging inside your sopping hole.

Your scream is muffled at the last moment when you bite down on your lip hard enough to draw blood, the nails digging into his scalp making him hiss.

Nevertheless, Suna doesn’t stop, drinking all you can give him while his tongue laps at your walls. The warm, wet muscle exploring each inch of you has you grinding against his face, shameless as you fuck yourself harder on his tongue. Suna chuckles at your actions, the vibrations pushing you over the edge.

He can tell you’re cumming when you start to clamp down on him, the flowing of your arousal easily cleaned up with tight, consistent sweeps of his tongue.

Your eyes are shut tight as you prolong your orgasm by grinding your pelvic bone shamelessly on his cum-stained face. Then your legs wobble until you’re falling, shaking, but Suna pushes you down completely on the bed.

Your breathing is ragged once you see that he’s crawling above you in the same manner a predator stalks his prey, his smirk nothing but devilish while your juices spread on his cheeks gleam under the dim lights.

Suna uses one hand to discard your shirt before throwing it to other side of the room, one knee to pry your legs apart. Your eyes dart down to the sports bra you wore, not sexy at all especially with the Nike logo, and your cheeks warm at the realization. Arms coming up to hide yourself, you fail when Suna slaps your hands away, glaring at you.

“Stop covering yourself. You don’t have to wear lingerie to for me all the time – you know I’d fuck you either way.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to be shy when he rips the bra apart, mouth latched onto one nipple. You gasp when he plunges three fingers in, definitely different to his usual routine of prepping you, and you’re being stretched open by his fingers a little too fast that you’re clutching on his bicep to catch your breath.

“F-Fuck, Suna, can’t even be a little gentle? What happened to foreplay?”

“I’m tired from winning match by match today, baby. Being gentle is the last thing on my mind when you’re splayed out for me like this,” he pulls away just to release his fingers from you, twisting his hand back to back to grin pervertedly at the way your cum slicks his hand. Using that exact same hand, Suna covers his length with it as he hovers over you, pushing the tip of his cock past your lips.

He immediately notices the way you hitch your breath, fingers clutching desperately at the sheets as you struggle to accommodate for him despite already being so wet.

He was just so thick and feels so good – it’s always a challenge not to cum all the while he’s entering you. “Don’t look at me like that. You’ve taken me before,” he reminds you, hooking his arm under your knees before he stretches you further, your thighs flat on your chest. You gasp at the new sensation of feeling him so deep inside you, his whole practically atop your calves as he thrusts inside experimentally. “Come on, you’ll take this big cock like a good girl, won’t you?”

“S-Suna.”

“You feel even better than usual,” he praises you, his eyes narrowed and hazy with pleasure as he continues fucking into you. His thrusts are slow yet deep, bottoming out with each time that he knocks the wind off your lungs, successfully hitting that sacred, sweet sensitive spot inside you that only he could ever reach.

Suna smirks at the apparent pleasure written all over your face, teasing you further by grabbing the flesh of your hips while he drives his cock deeper. “You’re just clamping down on me like a bitch in heat,” he notes to mock you, but he wasn’t free of this pleasurable torture as well, not when your walls sucked him in greedily that it took most of his energy just to pull out from your grip. It must be because you’re exerted from today’s match just as he is, and Suna spreads one leg to the side, your knee pressed beside your head. “Muscle cramps? Can’t say I mind.”

“Shut up, Suna.”

“I think you need to shut up,” he stuffs his fingers in your mouth, his chuckles formed in stuttered breaths when you clamp down on him. “Clenching harder on me now? Didn’t peg you for someone who liked this shit,” Suna, having always been perceptive to your smallest reactions, leans over to you to cup your cheek, the tenderness in his eyes a huge contrast to how he’s filling you up to the brim, his hips delirious and delicious with each snap. “You’re just a dirty little whore, aren’t you? So good for me.”

“S-Suna,” you begin to reach for him, feeling that welcomed tightening of your stomach. You never like to admit it out loud, but you and Suna know you’re always so clingy and starved for touches when you’re about to him.

Your lips are puckered out, arms wrapping around his head to pull him in for a kiss when Suna smirks. He knows exactly what you want – and that’s exactly what you’re not gonna get.

He flips you until you’re flat on your stomach, encircling your waist to pull your ass flat against the ticklish hairs resting at the base of his cock, his pelvic bone snapping against your backside. You cry out at the new position, the need to touch him painfully deprived until you’re sobbing on the pillows, wanting nothing more than to kiss him as you came.

Suna Rintaro really is rude.

You came first before him, drool spilling from your lips when you’re left with no other choice but to fist the sheets. Suna’s groans are guttural, his usual pace of fucking you slowly now turns carnal. Sounds of skin slapping and his balls hitting your ass cheeks echo around the room, the sounds too loud that you both fail to hear the rushed footsteps and giggles until the door opens.

Suna feels you tense under him, the crashing waves of your orgasm dulled by the panic rising in your chest. You know he’s covering you, but your heart absolutely lurches in your chest when Suna only continues, scoffing at whoever entered the room.

You scramble to move yourself off him but Suna only holds you down, his palm flat behind your head, arms pinned at the small of your back until you’re completely incapacitated. Once again, Suna’s proved that he’s a man of control, especially when it comes to your body. He won’t fail to remind you again and again that your body is not yours – it has always been his and will always be his.

Once he starts moving again, deliberately and painfully slow to emphasize the embarrassing shlick coming from your pussy, Suna smirks at the new guests. “Rooms taken, idiot – find someplace else.”

“Fuck, is that the captain for the girl’s team?”

You bite down on your lip upon hearing Atsumu’s voice, desperate to prevent the sinful moans to be heard past your lips. You’ve built quite a reputation for being sharp tongued and even wicked when it comes to being strict – to have him hear of all people that his teammate could easily break you like this would be beyond damaging both to your pride and reputation.

Suna glares at the golden-haired boy who’s now forgotten the girl hanging off his arm, his head tilting past Suna’s uniformed frame fucking deep into you.

He could hear it, could hear the sloppy squelching of your sopping cunt, could even hear the way Suna’s breath sharpens, but he wants to see it, to witness this atrocity. Suna, however, wasn’t having any of it.

His possessive grip is intensified with the nails digging into your wrists when he only fucks into your harder, his feet now planted on the mattress as if to mark his territory. “Don’t look at my bitch. She’s mine,” he growled, pulling you by the hair until your head is splayed all over his shoulder, your breasts bouncing from the speed he’s ramming into you at. “Now leave.”

“Suna, don’t be fucking rude.”

The door closes afterwards, but not free from comments from Atsumu on how you had a pretty ass. This ticks Suna off, licking stripe down your neck and up your jaw, nose buried into the crook of your neck to memorize your scent coated with sex hanging off the air.

“You’d rather have them watch?” he slaps your ass, your moan whiny and pornographic – you were really truly different than what you want people to think of you. “Of course you’d like that, filthy slut,” he nibbles at your ear, reaching forward to rub at your clit until you’re shaking again, your second orgasm just looming around the corner. “But I don’t want to share you, baby. Now fuck yourself on my cock like the whore you are.”

He shoves you flat on the mattress again, your forearms weak as you heave your weight upwards. Your head is thrown to the side, back arched down low as you follow his command like a good whore as he’s called you. You gyrate your hips to swirl your pussy around his thick pole, pushing backwards again and again until you’re gasping, shaking, trembling and utterly fucked out.

Your pace is nothing compared to what Suna is capable off, but he’s tense, jealous even that he wants to assure himself he’s the one who could get you to feel this way, even if it meant giving you all the work alone.

“What’re you gonna do now that everyone knows about us?” he asks through gritted teeth, placing his hands at your hips just to steady yourself. Suna’s eyes are zeroed in on the way his length disappears around your pretty lips, so open and puffy as you use his dick to pleasure you. He takes pride at the way you moan, back arching and little growls on your lips when he finally snaps his hips, meeting you thrust by thrust.

“Are you finally giving into me?” he asks again for what seems like the hundredth time ever since he’s laid his eyes on you, thumb flicking over your clit again. You cry out as he does so, uncaring of the strain when your arms reach out behind him, touching him this time around. Suna allows you to do so, hugging your waist to pull you into him, pressing open-mouthed kisses to yours while you moan left and right.

You’re sweating, eyes shut tight and fingers calloused from years of playing volleyball pinching at your own slips. You look so lewd every time you’re thinking of nothing else but the pleasure he’s giving you and Suna grows harder inside you, his thrusts rough along with another slap to your ass.  

“Fuck, yeah, just like that. You look so gorgeous bent over for me, you know, might as well just be officially mine.”

You manage to scoff through the pleasure, ignoring the way your heart flutters when Suna interlaces his fingers with yours above your breast, the both of you caressing the flesh tenderly. “I told you already, I’m never dating you.”

“And why not?” he challenges, the grip on your hips tightening again. “Who do you run to when you’re sad? Who do you bother when you’re happy? Who makes you feel good and fills you to the brim when your fingers just aren’t getting you off?” Unsatisfied with your silence, Suna snaps his hips harder, his grin wicked when you scream again, his name falling off your lips like a prayer – which is ironic, since he’s the one always worshipping you despite his need to be in control. “Isn’t it always me? Just say yes, baby, I’d get to do this to you all the time. You’re already fucking yourself on my cock like you’re my whore – what’s holding you back?”

“You’ll fuck me good if I say yes?”

“Aren’t I already?” To prove a point, Suna thrusts up deep and hard enough that he’s hitting your sweet spot again, a fucked out smile rewarding him afterward.

“But you’re a rude, rude person, Suna, oh, fuck,” Suna pinches your clit that makes you snap your eyes open, a seductive glare sent his way when he teases you. “See what I’m – ugh – talking about?”

“Then I’ll be nice for once,” he promises me, his thrusts growing sloppy as he pushes you over the edge. Your mouth hangs open in a silent, breathy sob – hands gripping at his thighs when the mere slipping of his length past your walls and kissing your cervix with each thrust pushes tears out of your eyes. Suna leans down to sloppily kiss away the tears, jaw clenched as he feels you tighten around him.  “Cum for me. I’m allowing you to cum. Maybe I’ll fuck you again when we get home if you’re good enough. Fuck, gonna breed this pussy so good, you’ll be so fucking full.”

Your nails scratches blood moons into his skin, right at the spot that isn’t covered by his shorts anymore. Usually, he’s careful when it comes to markings that could affect his play, but you’re so pretty crying as you cream around his neck that tonight he doesn’t care.

Suna groans as you milk him dry with the way your walls are hallowing and clenching around him, making the tall player fall forward above you on the bed, his cum sputtering inside of you. His groans are deep and so fucking sexy right next to your ear, thumb absentmindedly still rubbing at your clit. You’re both panting as he slowly pulls out, the gush of both your cum dripping all the way down your ass. He snickers at the sight and swoops two fingers down, the heated and hard press of his fingers against your sensitive pussy sending chills everywhere in your body.

You’re about to complain as Suna pushes his cum inside you, but he silences you with a kiss, spreading the cum all around your lips until you’re a complete, sticky mess down there. You grimace at the sensation but Suna is moving beside you the next moment, his arms heavy across your breasts.

You blink when Suna presses affectionate kisses on the blades of your shoulder, wiping the remnants of cum across the sheets before tangling your legs with his. You frown in confusion but turn to him anyway, breathing in that cologne sticking to his skin that you love so much.

“I’m not used to you cuddling me.”

Suna smiles at the crown of your head, shifting lower so he could squish his cheeks at the flesh of your breasts. You watch as his usual bored face lights up happily like a kid with ice cream as he kisses the sides of your breast, hands gentle and delicate in making swirls over your hip. He’s almost...unrecognizable. “You should. This is going to be one of the privileges of dating me.”

“I haven’t said yes yet.”

“You will.”

His declaration is so self assured – as he always is – that you roll your eyes, threading your fingers through his sweat-matted hair. “How are you so sure I even like you back, dummy?”

“Because you’ve got no reason not to,” is all he murmurs on your skin, and well...he isn’t wrong about it, but you scoff anyway, thankful that his eyes are closed so he can’t see your smile. “Now shut up. Just hearing your voice makes me hard again and I don’t think I can go for another round. I’m beat.”

Perhaps...Suna Rintaro wasn’t such a rude boy, after all.

[seancekitsch]

You Need Hands: Part of the Prize Buck Series

Warnings: smut, talking about abusive relationships, talking about drug use, unsafe bondage practices bc i am not a sex guru i am a writer of two flawed people, codependancy, praising

Klaus is surprised, to say the least when you come into the apartment raging, fingernails chewed off and eyes red as if you'd been crying on your walk home from work. Work was your only place, save for home, where you seemed truly happy. He notices your shaking and the barely contained rage behind the clench of your jaw.

“Hey! Hey, is everything alright?” he puts a hand out to stop you from pacing, and you turn on him, eyes glassy and red.

“Do you know what she said about us?”

What the fuck? Who would have said that? You talk to his siblings. Your boss. And. Oh. Okay, you talk to Gwen, your roommate from your University days that you recently gotten in touch with again. Klaus doesn't like her. It’s hard to get on Klaus’ bad side, but she seemed… pushy. Not pushy. What's the word he’s trying to use? Controlling? Scheming? Yeah, those are the ones. Accuracy cuts deeper, you always tell him. He pets your arm, feeble in trying to calm you down but after a few ragged open-mouthed breaths, you’re ready.

“She called us Sid and Nancy,” you continue, “She said we live in a sex den above a bodega slowly killing each other, if not outright doing it. She thinks you’re gonna get me high again. She basically met up with me up to judge me and tell me everything I’m doing wrong. I didn't even get to tell her about that paella we made last week for your whole family.”

“Oh, she’s kidding right? I’d make a terrible Nancy.” That makes you pause in your tracks, confusion lighting up your features.

“No- Klaus she thinks you’re Sid.”

“I’m not Sid.” He reaffirms, pulling you in and wrapping his arms around your frame. Noticing how the candlelight catches on your hair, making you look like a biblical angel, one of those terrifying fiery things, hard to look at but you’re all his. He knows how you feel right now, better than anyone. He’s used to being the one discounted and lectured. His own siblings, as much as he loves them dearly, only just started trusting him in the span of the past two years. It felt like something divine, that despite how mean and secluded you were at first, how you trusted him so deeply so quickly. He’d known you for almost a year, and in that year dragged you to another century, gotten you involved in a cult, exposed you to his family, ghosts, challenging and difficult situations other people could have easily cracked under without disease plaguing their mind. Klaus is capable of great cruelty and recklessness, he knows it. He knows you shouldn't trust someone who has seen and done the frankly fucked up shit he has, but you do. And he trusts you fully in turn, if not more. Even when you refused to be open with him, pushed him away; the days when you would have rather stuck pins in your hand than speak to him because he was loud and you were too weak to handle it.

He exhales a breath he didn't know he was holding when he feels your head dip and fall against his chest.

“Is she right?” your voice is far away, empty. Needing some empty comfort. “Are we killing each other? Do we suck?”

“Hey, c’mon, don't be upset,” he shushes you, “We’re good for each other. We have jobs! No relapses! Bet your ex could never say that.” He couldn't, your ex was part of the reason you were here, which Klaus wasn't exactly upset about because it meant he had you and no one else did, but you probably could have benefitted from years free from an active addiction that was more or less funded by the competitive nature of your work and home life.

“I’m not upset. I’m pissed.”

That solves it for Klaus. When you're pissed, you clam up. He doesn't want to emotionally lose you for the rest of the day, or worse, the whole weekend.

“We’re not killing each other,” he confirms, “Pretty sure you can't kill me anyway.”

You snort and swat at his ribs, but then your hand doesn't leave him after the hit, instead slinking from his side to his back, coming to rest on his shoulder blade. You're holding him, which means he hasn't lost you.

“Oh, wicked thing, I’ll show you how good I am for you.”

You sigh, and feeling the pricking of your nails on his back, he takes that as permission. His hand begins roaming your body, groping at your chest, squeezing at your ass as you grab onto him, holding him for stability as he keeps moving, his large hands making you moan.

“Klaus…” you trail off. What are you trying to say? What are you asking for? You don't know.

“How many days have you been clean?” He whispers against your skin.

“One hundred and ninety three.” You know it exactly.

“See? She’s wrong,” and he goes back to peppering your face with kisses as his hands work to pull your skirt out of the way. Its dirty the way he pulls your clothes out of the way to fondle at you, to rub against your cunt through your underwear, to pull that underwear aside and find you wet and waiting. His other arm wrapped around the small of your back, holding your rumpled skirt gathered in his hand.

“I’ll be real good for you,” he affirms, slipping a finger into you, and then another. You grip onto his shoulders now, enough to keep you standing when your legs want to crumble under his thrusting. He pushes in with ease, like you were made to take his fingers, your breath hitching and tiny whines falling from your lips. His forehead dips to press against yours, sweat beginning to form on his brow. Its dizzying, how deep his long fingers can be inside you, how full and whole you feel as he holds you against him, making you shake and moan as he props you up, letting you feel like a ragdoll at his mercy.

“Hey,” he nudges you with his nose, “Hey, Lover, look over there.”

He shifts his head to the left, and your head follows. You're face to face with the image of yourself in the cheap and grimy thrift shop mirror you had bought. You see how strong his lean muscles are, how they move against you, hold you close and safe.

“Look how fuckin’ good you look.” You nod, you have to agree, heavy bedroom eyes stare back at you, your lips parted almost pornographically. Is this how Klaus sees you all the time? He picks up the pace, eagerly moving his hips along with his hand, needing to feel some release and friction himself as he works you over, your voice raising an octave as he gets rougher, until your eyes close tightly; your body stiffens, shakes, and you can hear him praising you. You're doing so well, that's it, all for me, right on my hand, you're so sexy. Your voice comes out in a shudder. Trying to thank him as your muscles twitch and you look into his beautiful green eyes.

“No, no, no, shhhh,” he hushes you again, smoothing your hair down as he leads you to walk on wobbly legs over to the bed to sit, not bothering to fix your skirt. Your eyebrow quirks as he moves to remove his belt fully, not just unbuckle it to remove his pants.

But you wise up quickly, watching him grab your hands and start to wrap the belt around your wrists. You have bondage rope somewhere around here, but this is hot, and he told you to be quiet, so you don’t make a sound. He moves your hands at the wrist, checking for you to make sure the belt won't hurt you, then pushes you back onto the bed, staring at invisible patterns on the ceiling as you lift your hand for them, belted wrists landing at the other edge of the bed. You can feel him push your skirt up even more, then you feel his skin on yours, his bare thighs rubbing against the inside of yours, then the sensation of Klaus rubbing his cock against you. Fuck, you love his cock. You love him. He watches your expression, your gasps, your sighs from lips plumped by bruising, your eyes fluttering shut as he rubs against you. You're a fucking goddess. He doesn't deserve you, despite trying to carnally prove that he does. Youre so fucking good, you’ve helped better each other. Fuck what anyone says. He just hopes you believe it too.

“So fuckin’ good, Lover. Oh, I’m gonna worship this cunt,” he sighs, more to himself than you.

“Don’t make me wait, Klaus,” you command, but then whine as he enters you. Everything feels like so much, so much.

“Sensitive, Fraulein?”

“I can handle it.”

“Of course you can,” he agrees, setting his pace

He hikes one of your legs up onto his hip, then hikes his leg up onto the bed, getting a better angle to fuck you, but also to lean in and kiss you, his mustache brushing your chin, lips attaching themselves to the underside of your jaw as he kisses you fully, pressing his love into your skin.

He covers your body with his own, protective, possessive, and devoted; he fucks you through another high, making you scream into his mouth as he doesn’t slow his pace, once again shushing you and singing your praises. I love you, you look so good like this, let me live the rest of my life like this between your thighs. You want to let him take, and take, and take. Such a thoughtful, loving, loyal person. He gives. You want him to give.

“Klaus,” you sound breathless, “Klaus, come inside me, please.”

You beg, wanting him completely. He lifts your other leg, before climbing completely on the bed with you, his sweaty chest dropping against yours, palming at your breast as he buries his head into the crook of your neck, needing to feel the closeness of you as he comes.

He comes quietly, with a staggered gasp and your lips kissing his hair. One of his hands finds yours bound above your head, and grasps them both in his. He kisses your neck as he stills, body relaxing as he comes down.

You stay like that for almost a half hour before the phone on the wall rings and snaps you out of your loving haze.

[amerrierworld]

in dreams (pt 3)

The Hobbit fanfiction

Part 1 | Part 2 

Summary: You sneak away in the night to get some alone time, and Galadriel finds you.

Characters: Galadriel x fem!reader, Bilbo

Word Count: 3,107

Warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUT - This is a continuation of the previous two parts but this is far less G-rated!!!

You didn’t see Galadriel for the next few days, and you grew a bit more worried about having to leave before you could see her again. Thorin was on the brink of a breakdown if he didn’t get your group out of Rivendell as soon as possible. He had decided you’d pack up and leave altogether tomorrow night, just before dawn, so no one came looking for you before you’d left. 

“I could stay here for ages,” Bilbo sighed. The two of you had snuck away from rowdy Dwarves to enjoy a cup of tea on the last peaceful evening, enjoying the crisp air. 

“Maybe you will, one day,” you smiled at him, relaxing into your chair and curling up under a blanket. “Sad to think we have to leave here and go into who knows what kind of danger.”

“Agreed,” Bilbo responded. “But we haven’t left yet. So let us enjoy it while we can.”

Moments later his head tipped back in the chair and he began snoring quietly. You giggled, and moved your blanket to drape over his knees before sneaking away to wander Rivendell, in hopes of seeing Galadriel again. 

You went back to where you had first met her. The basin had been moved from the pedestal and it seemed eerily quiet compared to just a few nights ago. Your heart twinged with disappointment but you could feel in your bones that she hadn’t left yet. She was still close, somewhere.

Your feet carried you down staircases and paths until you entered a well-lit cave. Moonlight poured in on a pool with crystal clear water. The rock had been hewn and polished to make steps and clean edges all around and there were shelves and baskets set up, clearly indicating this was used as a bathing area.

Ecstatic to get some alone time, finally, you stripped and quickly dipped into the water. You didn’t know how long it would be before you got to enjoy some peace and quiet like this again. 

There was a multitude of different soaps lined up for your choosing. The smells varied in anything from pine or citrus to roses and lavender. It was by far the most luxurious bath you had ever come across. Bilbo would be envious if you ever told him about this place, and you smirked at the thought.

You floated on your back in the middle of the pool for a while, enjoying the way your muscles were relaxing and all the sweat and grime that you found impossible to scrub away before finally melted off of you. 

You swam a couple laps, the pool was large enough for it, before sucking in a breath and falling slowly to the bottom of the pool. All you could hear was the rushing in your ears. You felt completely suspended in time, content and at peace with yourself. Rivendell really was a magical place of healing, you decided.

When you rose up and brushed your hair back with your fingers, a figure had appeared in the entrance, and you shrieked in surprise. You ducked into the water until the tip of your nose was immersed and you looked wide-eyed at the familiar intruder.

“M-my lady,” you stuttered, slowly coming up until your head was above the water. Had you been trespassing? “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to impose.. I didn’t know anyone else would be here tonight. Please don’t tell Elrond.”

Galadriel was dressed in white, as usual, but with a dark silvery-grey cloak draped over her shoulders. Her circlet was off, and her hair was loose, cascading down her back like a river. 

“You are not imposing, dearest,” she said, a crinkle of amusement apparent in her voice. “I was looking for you.”

“Oh, really?” you asked. “Well, I haven’t been anywhere outside of Rivendell today. For the past few days, in fact.”

You found it hard to focus knowing you were entirely naked under the water, and you couldn’t be sure how much she could see from where she stood.

“I apologize for not coming sooner,” Galadriel spoke softly, stepping closer to the edge of the pool. “I could not find a time for us to be.. alone.”

“Well, great timing, I guess. We’re leaving tomorrow night,” you grumbled. “In secret. So much for spending time together.”

Galadriel’s eyes flashed, and you could see her shoulders slump in disappointment. 

“Y/N..”

“It’s fine, really. You’re here now, and I’m not going to be any time soon.”

You raised a hand to flick damp hair out of your face and you noted Galadriel’s eyes following the movement. You blushed, but your confidence grow as her stare darkened.

“Why don't you come in? The water’s lovely,” you muttered softly. You stood up a tad more, so your shoulders and collar bones were exposed, water dripping down your skin. 

This time you heard Galadriel breathing; a sharp intake of breath that left you smirking. She inched forward, her bare feet shifting closer and closer. Then she took the steps into the pool, far more graceful than you had ever seen anyone else stepping into a pool.

You gawked like a fish. The cloak came off and landed in a damp heap by the edge of the pool, and water soaked her dress to the point where it became basically transparent and skin tight. 

Slowly, she waded through the water towards you, much like you had seen her walk down that bridge just a few days ago, elegant and steady in her steps. 

“Your dress,” you whispered in an attempt to save the precious fabric. She cocked a slim eyebrow.

“Perhaps you could assist me with it,” she replied. Blushing furiously, you could feel your body heating up despite the coolness of the water.

Galadriel watched as you approached, your hands reaching down to the hem of her beautiful dress and pulling the wet fabric up.

“Slowly,” she ordered in a whisper. Your heart was beating frantically, but you did as she said. But as you did so, you decided to take advantage of the moment, hands finding her bare skin under the water and trailing up her calves and thighs.

Galadriel gasped, startled by your boldness and by the feeling of your hands on her skin. You could feel silky smoothness as you brushed your hands over her hips, and her abdomen fluttered with a shaky breath when you rubbed your thumbs close to her belly button. 

By the time you were gripping her waist, your hands were out of the water and the crumpled dress was dripping heavily. Once your hands reached her ribs you were both trembling with want. Your thumbs brushed the undersides of her breasts and you were suddenly frozen in place. 

Galadriel aided the last stretch, reaching down to find the hem and pulling the rest of the dress over her shoulders and head until she was fully nude. Her wet hair flicked water droplets in the air as she pulled it over and away. The dress floated away to the other end of the pool somewhere, but neither of you seemed to notice.

Your hands were still on her ribcage, feeling her torso rise and fall with each breath. Then, her hand reached to cup your face, and you felt that same shock from the first time you touched course through your body, but with less surprise this time. It felt welcomed, and familiar. 

She coaxed your mouth open with a brush of her tongue against your lips and then sought to devour you whole. Her kiss was hungry, passionate, and your nerves felt electrified from your mouth to your fingertips and toes. 

Egged on by your ever-growing arousal, your hands began exploring. You couldn’t do much to respond to the kiss because Galadriel towered over you and gripped you with such strength that you mewled into her mouth, but your own hands were less controlled.

They ran across the smooth skin of her back, scratching lightly until you felt her shudder against you. Groaning approvingly, you reached down further and cupped her ass to pull her closer. Your bodies met in a rush. Your fingers pulled at her cheeks and inched closer to the juncture between her thighs, rubbing and teasing the skin.

Galadriel pulled away at the feeling of you so close to where she wanted to be but not quite. Her head tipped back, soaking more of her golden hair in the water and exposing a long, beautiful neck that quivered as she swallowed hard while you explored her.

You took the opportunity to reach forward and kiss her breasts. Lightly at first, as you got accustomed to what she liked and what she responded to, but then her hands gripped your shoulders, dug into your skin, and pulled you against her even further, as if to mold both your bodies into one.

Taking the hint, your lips closed around a rosy nipple and sucked. A hard cry escaped Galadriel’s mouth and her hands buried in your hair, pulling and scratching at your scalp. Her hips rubbed against you, trying to find movement, but your hands were still gripping her from behind and didn’t let her get the friction she wanted.

Galadriel cursed under her breath, or you assumed it was a curse from the tone of it, since it was in Elvish and you smirked before your teeth replaced your lips around her nipple, worrying it gently. That earned you a delicious, ragged whine, and you felt pride and lust fill your heart. You gave the same treatment to the other and felt her tremble and weakly buck her hips against your body.

You yourself were on fire. Your clit was throbbing under the water, and you wanted nothing more than the two of you to come over and over again. But you weren’t going to pass up an opportunity like this. You pulled away and Galadriel, stoic, noble and fierce Lady Galadriel, whimpered at the loss. 

“Shh,” you hushed her. “Let me.”

She let you lead her back up the steps of the pool, to the point where her hips were at your eye level, and you got her to sit down. Legs half immersed in the water, nipples peaking from the breeze and arousal, she was the most beautiful creature you’d ever seen. Her arms reached back to support herself, and the moonlight reflected her dewy skin, accentuating her breasts, shoulders and neck. 

You edged closer, hands massaging and rubbing Galadriel’s stunningly long legs as you neared her. She could barely breathe as you edged them apart, spreading her stance, glistening in the light. You hoisted one leg over your shoulder and Galadriel nearly fell back when you gently pulled apart her folds to press a light kiss on her clit.

Everything was wet. Everything seemed to be dripping, and Galadriel felt nearly scalding hot as you rubbed and explored down her slit with your fingers. 

She was quiet, holding her breath and keeping her eyes screwed shut, but her body betrayed her. Her muscles spasmed and trembled as you explored her, feeling every inch of her and mouthing at the soft flesh of her thighs and hips as much as you could. 

Galadriel moaned, loudly, and her hand pulled at your scalp sharply. Suddenly, a thought flashed through your head. A thought and image of fucking her with your fingers, and your face flushed at the thought. It wasn’t your own, it was like someone was pleading you for it inside your own head.

Startled but more than a little turned on by the feeling of sharing your mind with Galadriel, you did as she asked. By the looks of it, it seemed she hadn’t even registered that she was begging you telepathically, which made her startled cry from you slipping two fingers inside all the better.

She began rocking back and forth and you held onto her tightly, your free hand holding her leg over your shoulder, and your lips suckling at her clit. The water began sloshing in waves around you at the movements you were making and it became extra slippery with the added arousal dripping from around your fingers.

You could hear her pleading in your head, the only actual sounds she was making were broken whimpers and needy breaths. Your head was spinning with arousal and you thought about touching yourself under the water, but decided against it. She was so close, you could feel it.

You pushed a third finger in, curled upwards and pressed as hard as you could, and suddenly something snapped. A white-hot flash of desire shot through you as Galadriel came all over your fingers, trembling, sweating, gasping. It took very long for her to come down, and even longer for you to settle the churning nerves inside you.

You had felt her orgasm inside yourself, but you hadn’t actually had a release, which made it much, much more agonizing. 

You lowered her leg down into the water again and pulled her from the edge to be immersed in the water again. She slumped down with no hesitation or protest and dipped down to kiss you hard on the mouth.

“By the Valar,” she breathed. You giggled, hands winding in her hair. The locks had become tangled with her incessant thrashing about, and you began combing through them. 

When Galadriel brought her thigh up to let you rest on it under water, the arousal flooded back through you, rubbing against her leg. This time, she felt it too, and her eyes darkened immediately.

You opened your mouth to say something in polite protest, to say it was okay to not deal with you tonight because she seemed exhausted, but there was no quarrel to be had with the Lady of the Golden Wood.

She lifted you up as if you weighed absolutely nothing, and carried you through the water to the edge. Your foot brushed something soft and realized with amusement that Galadriel’s wet dress had floated back towards the two of you. You hoisted it out of the water to dry somewhere on the ground just as Galadriel pulled you up and sat you on the edge of the pool. 

Coaxing you to lay back, Galadriel could still reach over and kiss you firmly on the mouth with her towering length. Which is why you found it so hard to focus and barely registered her touching your cunt until her fingertips pressed against your cunt hard, aided with leverage from the rocking of her hips. 

You tore your mouth away from hers as your back arched off of the cold rock, and her lips sucked along your jawline and neck. The stimulation was overwhelming, but you wanted more, needed more. And this time Galadriel felt your pleading too. 

Her motions stilled in realization, her grip hard and her eyes wide. She could feel your mind, blooming open for her, begging for release from the deepest parts of you. 

Something feral snapped in the Elf Queen, you watched a shroud of darkness pass through her eyes and she grabbed your hips, flipping you over and pulling  you flush up against her front. One hand grasped your breasts and neck, palming your nipples and pulling your hair. The other ruthlessly rubbed at your clit. Your legs trembled in the water as she picked up speed, pressing and rubbing and circling your throbbing clit until you saw white and a loud, pathetic cry escaped your throat. 

But as you came, Galadriel didn’t stop or gentle her motions, instead she slipped two fingers inside that immediately pressed up and rubbed against that sensitive place inside of you. From the way she was gasping, you knew she could feel how intense your orgasm was within herself too, and the feeling of your bond blossomed and overwhelmed your senses.

You weren’t sure if you blacked out once Galadriel bit your shoulder, or if you were mumbling anything coherent as you came down from your high. You could barely feel your legs, but you felt relieved and overwhelmed all at the same time. 

Galadriel was panting as she turned you in her arms. You reached up to kiss her, your hips and legs bruised from the edge of the pool and Galadriel’s strong grip, but you didn’t mind the soreness one bit. 

“I wish I didn’t have to leave,” you whispered against her lips. You opened your eyes and were surprised to see Galadriel’s had gotten misty. You weren’t sure if the sorrow you were feeling was hers or your own. 

“Oh, meleth-nin,” she murmured brokenly, wrapping you up tightly and kissing your face everywhere she could. 

“Come with us,” you pleaded, knowing it was not possible in the slightest that she could. She knew this. Her hands brushed back your hair and cradled your face gently, so unlike the passionate and unruly persona who had taken over her lust just moments ago. 

“We will meet again,” she muttered. “You know it, in your heart.”

“Yeah but that doesn’t mean I like it,” you pouted indignantly. She chuckled that beautiful and familiar chuckle and pressed her forehead against yours.

“Be safe, my darling,” she whispered. “I will be watching over you.”

Your own eyes were getting teary now too, and you pulled away to look her in the eyes. You suddenly felt exhausted, and wanted nothing more than to fall asleep in her arms. 

“We should sleep,” you suggested. Then, you remembered Galadriel’s dress was a complete disaster now. You paled a little at the realization.

“Not to worry, dear one,” she chuckled again, seemingly having understood your expression. “I am inventive.”

And that was how, scandalously so, the Lady Galadriel wrapped herself in naught but a silvery cloak, held together with your belt that you offered her. You dressed in your own clothing awkwardly as you hadn’t fully dried off and you carried Galadriel’s wet dress in your hands. 

You kept whispering that you had to hurry up before someone saw you as the two of you snuck out back towards the main buildings, but Galadriel only laughed. You realized Elves, especially the Lothlorien Elves it seemed, had no shame whatsoever, as Galadriel hoisted you up bridal style, and marched to her quarters. 

As soon as the doors were locked behind you, all the damp and uncomfortable clothing came off once again and you slipped under warm silken sheets. Galadriel pulled you close, and you wrapped an arm around her middle, pressing your head against her chin and jaw and kissing her there softly until you drifted off.

A/N: You asked, I answered :3 We love Galadriel!! I have a sudden urge to binge all 6 films again..

[the-omni-princess]

Burnt (Firefighter!AU)

Author: @the-omni-princess

Summary: Another late night at the fire house is interrupted when dispatch calls out a very familiar address.

Pairing: Bucky x Fem!Reader 

Word Count: 2.3K

Prompt: Firefighter Au!

Warnings: Established Relationship, angst, fluff, gambling (kinda), brief mention of death and its implications, fire injuries (not burns, but smoke inhalation), loss of property because of a fire

A/N:

Written for @sunmoonandbucky

and their #1.5kconstellationswritingchallenge :D 

love ya babe <3

Also, while I looked up codes and such, I am probably really wrong at some of these, so if you happen to know the Brooklyn FDNY codes/dispatch please let me know so I can fix it :D

-

[My Masterlist]

---

It was late, however, the bright lights of the firehouse kept Bucky wide awake. He took another glance at the clock on the wall, but only a minute had passed since the last time he looked. Time seemed to move as slowly as possible.

“I know your shifts almost over, but if you paid attention, you might actually win the game,” Sam taunted him, letting his cards fall in front of him, an 8,7,6,5, and 4, a Straight.

Bucky, being the only other one left in the game, smirked faintly, “Keep dreaming, Sam,” he placed his own cards down. Every single one had a red diamond that seemed to stare straight into Sam’s soul. A Flush. He reached forward, grabbing his prize, the best snacks of the week from each of the crew, from the middle of the table.

Sam groaned loudly just as Steve laughed. “Better luck next time, Sam,” he teased, earning him a glare from the man. He turned towards Buck just as he pulled open the gummy snacks, determined to keep his mind off the counting clock. “Don’t worry Buck, in two hours you’ll be clocked out and passed out beside your gal,” he nudged him with his shoulder.

“Snuggled up with the millions of blankets she owns,” Natasha joined in, already having folded out of the game before she could lose more precious pretzels.

“Are really suggesting that Barnes is immediately going to sleep when he sees his girl? Because I’d like to bet an alternative-“ Nat tossed a pretzel at Tony to shut him up, rolling her eyes as he yelped when it hit him square in the head.

“I’m exhausted, I will be happily passed out and snuggled against my gal,” Bucky gave Tony a pointed look, before sighing. He looked towards his phone, knowing you were probably asleep so late at night. He couldn’t help but hope you had texted him, despite having exchanged good night texts two hours ago.

He glanced towards the sofas, Clint had the tv on, captions on, volume low so the rest of them could hear the dispatch radio placed on the counter. The news jumped back and forth between stories, a robbery, a missing person, a cat stuck up a tree from yesterday. Most of the footage was old, making Bucky lose interest.

Just as he was about to turn back to a new game, Natasha already shuffling the cards behind him, the bright red headline of BREAKING NEWS caught his attention. A fire right up the street from one of the other stations. The frequency had already called out one of the other stations to a nearby fire, but it wasn’t bad enough for this part of Brooklyn FD to be called out. Looked pretty bad now though, the apartment building was on frame at a weird angle, and it was grainy footage from a cell phone, but the entire right side was streaked with red and orange flames.

“Dispatch hasn’t called it yet, but I have a feeling we’re gonna be called in for this one, up and at ‘em,” Bucky called, the others glancing at the tv before agreeing and standing, starting to get ready for the inevitable call.

Not two minutes later, as Bucky tugged the suspenders from his uniform on correctly, the call was ringing out across the station. “Dispatch to Brooklyn, 10-26, 10-23. 10-85 Brooklyn.” Occupied high-rise, three-alarm fire, Need for additional units.

Steve jumped to answer, calling out “10-04, 10-07?” Acknowledged, Verify address?

Bucky had already jumped into the truck, pressing the lights button on as Sam jumped in as well, Nat and Tony grabbing the other truck, turning on their lights as well. Dispatch gave out the address and everyone in both trucks tensed. Bucky went pale. Oh God, this can’t be happening.

“On our way,” Steve quickly closed the door and turned the sirens on, out on the road and dashing towards the address, not needing the GPS. Bucky was silent, fear and panic filling his eyes as he gripped onto the seat of the truck with one hand, and his helmet with the other. New York, the city that never sleeps, was determined not to let him get to his destination. Red lights meant slowing down to make sure opposing traffic knew they were coming, and every damn light was red.

Sam placed a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, hoping to calm him. “Maybe it-“

“Save it Sammie,” Bucky warned, eyes straight ahead as he tried not to over think. “Step on it, Rogers. Now.”

“Trying,” Steve muttered in response, only a block away and closing in. Steve had barley put the truck to park when Bucky pushed Sam out the truck, jumping out after him and ignoring his frustrated cry.

He looked around frantically, hoping the other units grabbed everyone already. Your neighbor and best friend Wanda recognized him instantly, already brushing off the police officer trying to ask her questions. She looked an utter mess, wrinkled, grime covered pajamas, her twin standing a few feet away getting oxygen from one of the EMTs, soot in his white hair. “Bucky! Thank God you’re here! She’s still inside, they said the fire started in her apartment.” She was frenzied, shaking as she tried to tell him. He nodded in acknowledgment, words lacking at the moment. He turned to the building, able to see it now. The flames were centered right by your fifth-floor apartment window. He felt his heart tighten as he tugged on his helmet, already rushing to join Steve and the others in running inside.

--

Coughing again and again, covered in soot, huddled in the bathroom, gripping onto Alpine. The poor white cat looked like a different bred all covered in soot. She purred in your arms, trying to comfort you as you stayed curled into a ball at the very corner of your bathtub. Trapped by the fire while in your pajamas, and there were no windows but a small slit in the wall. Alpine could probably barley squeeze through that and escape, but the lock had rusted months ago and wouldn’t open.

Now, nose buried under a soot covered pajama shirt to not inhale the smoke, Alpine under the same shirt to prevent as much smoke inhalation as possible, you couldn’t help but notice the true irony of your situation. The fireman’s girlfriend and rescue cat, dying in a fire. You felt like you were living in an irony.

Why did you decide to not move out sooner? Why did you happen to stumble into the bathroom in the middle of the night? Why didn’t you insist to the landlord that your faulty electrical lines in your bedroom should most definitely be replaced now instead of later? Was this really the way you were going to die? The fight had already left you once the fire had spread to right outside your bathroom door. Truly and utterly trapped. No windows, no doors, no way out. Since the fire was electrical, they had already shut the power off to the building. The only light was the fire being barley contained on the other side of the bathroom door. The heat radiating in the room from the mixture of the fire and the AC being off, and well, being on fire, was starting to make you woozy.

Coughing once more, you couldn’t hear the front door to your apartment being kicked down. God, you hoped Bucky wouldn’t blame himself. He always tended to do that anyway, and if you were going to die with any regrets, it would be how you died. That would haunt him for the rest of his life.

The door to the bathroom was suddenly axed down, making you jump faintly, gripping Alpine even tighter. Your eyes lit up at the sight of two soot covered, full uniform wearing firefighters standing at the door. One was already reaching towards you, the second was subduing the fire away from the door.

The one above you wrapped you in a fireproof blanket, helping you to your feet to escape. You stumbled, still holding onto Alpine for dear life; not that the cat minded snuggling into your chest, smelling your perfume instead of the smoke. The firefighter quickly caught you and didn’t waste a second in picking you up and making their way out the door. Everything was getting hazy, and you glancing around, it didn’t really set in that this was your apartment in flames. That was your favorite chair and curtains being burnt to a crisp. And Bucky’s favorite blanket on top of the chair, mostly ash in a neat little pile. You buried your face into the soot covered jacket of the person holding you, trying not to inhale to much smoke and to save yourself from seeing the destruction of your home.

The first thing to hit you when you were outside was how cool it suddenly was. The second was the oxygen. As you took a ragged breath, the cool air burned in your throat. The firefighter holding onto you rushed towards an EMT, but you caught a glance behind you. With everyone evacuated, they were starting to gain control of the blaze. As the firefighter holding you sat you on the edge of the ambulance’s open tail gate, you noticed the Brooklyn Fire Truck. The very one you had painted Brooklyn on in baby blue just last summer. One of the firefighters pulled off his helmet and mask, and you instantly recognized Sam. God that means Bucky’s here.

You coughed roughly, not fighting the paramedic who took Alpine to give her some oxygen, while another paramedic placed an oxygen mask over your face. You groaned lowly, the voice stuck in your throat felt like tar. You looked towards your savior, the firefighter. Considering how close you were to the FDNY, having gone to plenty of their cookouts and bowling nights, you most likely knew the person who saved you. Yet, you only cared to find him.

Taking a deep breath, you pulled the mask off just long enough to gargle out a “B-Bucky-…” while trying to get Sam’s attention. You needed to find him. He was a self-sacrificing idiot at times, just like his best friend, and would probably go back into the fire to make sure every single person and animal and even the hamster upstairs was safely rescued. The firefighter beside you quickly put the mask back over your nose and mouth, and despite the helmet and mask covering their face, you could practically hear the silent ‘Why would you do that?!’ from their body language.

You pulled the fire blanket closer to your shoulders, shuddering before realizing which blanket it was. It was the blanket you had gotten Bucky as a joke last Christmas, the one that was folded neatly on your couch when you went to bed. If the fire fighter knew what it was then that would mean-

Your eyes widened as you looked up towards your savior, who was pulling off his helmet and mask. You couldn’t stop the smile from your face as you took in his worried expression and your favorite ocean eyes. “Bucky,” you murmured.

Despite being muffled behind the mask, he heard you, and didn’t stop the relieved expression from overtaking his features. He threw the gloves off, placing them and the helmet beside you before cupping your face in his hands. “You had me worried sick, sugar. When the address came in, and then when Wan said you were still upstairs…. I don’t know what I would have done if I lost you.” He stepped in between your legs, careful to make sure you were still getting oxygen but were now safely tucked into his arms. You stayed quiet, nuzzling closer to him, with Alpine, who was perfectly fine just a little dirty, curled on your lap.

It stayed like that for a few moments, the red lights from the now quiet sirens lighting up his features, the oxygen starting to calm you; his arms wrapped around you, filling you with warmth. “I’m glad you’re okay,” he whispered into your ash covered hair, too grateful that you survived that close call then to worry about the new dirt on his face.

You took another breath, feeling good enough to actually speak again, you pulled the mask off again, “You know,” you rasped, “When I agreed to move in with you, I didn’t mean this soon.”

He chuckled faintly, holding you closer as you took more breaths from the oxygen. “Good thing most of your stuff is at my place now,” he took a glance towards your apartment, most likely a bad – if not total – loss.

“And thank god for insurance,” you muttered into the mask. He chuckled again, kissing your head and running a hand through Alpine’s fur. The cat purred, happily rubbing against the two of you. “I love you, honey,” he whispered softly, reverent, as if the entire weight of tonight’s events had finally settled on him.

“I love you more, Bucky Barnes,” you teased, grinning into the mask. And in the light of the emergency vehicles, your pajamas covered in dirt and soot and ash, he couldn’t help but think you were absolutely perfect. As you buried your face in his chest, ignoring the chaffing from his uniform, ready to fall asleep again, he couldn’t help but smile. And he couldn’t help but be grateful that the ring he was going to propose with, was locked in a fireproof safe hidden at the back of his closet.

---

Tags:

Permanent Tags:

@minetticatinwonderland  / @lumar014 / @maniacproffesor / @gollyderek / @nerdy-bookworm-1998 / @avengerstones / @momc95 / @loving-life-my-way

Bucky Tags:

@cassandras-musings  / @darkness-doughter / @novaddictx​ / @thedancingnerdmermaid / @mood-pancakes / @gracethegeek9902 / @ravennightingaleandavatempus / @thelibraryoffanfiction / @sunkissedbarnes​ / @annavega333

For a tag, just reply/comment, if I don’t see it, just message me. Tell me what you think! Literally, any comment makes me happy! Like, comment, reblog, interact <3

[babytstark]

Any Ol’ Barstool - Bucky Barnes

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word count: 1k

A/N: I am so sorry in advance for your broken hearts. This hurt me to write

Warnings: mentions of drinking, substance abuse, break-up feels

Synopsis: (Y/N) and Bucky broke off their engagement about a month ago and she hears the rumors that he's flown off the handle. She confronts him about it and the following conversation breaks both of their hearts.

Based off of the song Any Ol' Barstool by Jason Aldean

After fighting relentlessly, every night, for 2 weeks straight, you and Buck had decided to cancel your engagement. It wasn't an easy decision for either of you, but it was decision that both needed to be done for you guys sake, and for the sake of the team. The whole compound could hear the two of you screaming at each other, at all times of the day. It was drastically making the teams energy and enthusiasm for missions weaken. You called it quits, and had Tony make you a new bedroom, far across the compound from your ex-counterpart. It was hard for everyone to watch the two of you mope around but they knew you had made the right decision.

"I guess you heard I was pedal to the metal on a downhill slide. Girl, you know those rumors get to flyin' in a town that size. No, I didn't feel a thing when you threw that ring and slammed the door…"

The rumors flew around the compound for weeks; that Bucky had taken it quite harder than you had. You really couldn't believe that, your broken heart still aching in your chest every time you woke up alone. You had just made a habit of burying yourself in your work. As the team's medic, you had plenty to keep you busy. The team was going on missions nearly every week, barely leaving you any time to heal and fix up the injuries flying at you. You had yet to see Bucky, as apparently he had been sitting out of the last couple of missions. Wanda had told you it was because Tony knew his head wasn't in it, and didn't want any distractions to cause failures. You knew he had to be pretty upset over that; knowing that his best friend was out there without him was enough to drive Buck crazy.

It wasn't until you ran into Bucky Barnes did you know just how bad his drinking had become. One night, almost into early morning, he wandered into the hall that your room was in. Knocking twice, he sat down in front of the door, the liquor making his legs too tired to stand. You answered in your pajamas, a pair of shorts and a sports bra. The sight caused his breath to catch in his throat, his eyes watering as he drank in your appearance.

"What's wrong Buck," You questioned, the tears collecting in your eyes as well.

He took a deep sigh and spoke in a raspy tone, "Nothing. I shouldn't have come here."

He went to stand up and walk away, before you hand reached out to stop him, spinning him around to face you.

"James, seriously, everyone is concerned for you. You're drunk every night. You can barely stand here and talk to me right now. You spiraling and everyone, including me, hates to see you like this," You scolded him, the salty tears now flowing freely down your face.

Bucky scoffed and rolled his eyes, "I'm fine (Y/N), please mind your own business. I don't need your help, or anyone else's for that matter."

You slowly retracted your hand, his words stinging your already broken heart. You guys had been best friends first; to hear him say that he didn't need you hurt more than the break-up.

"Sure, I take more Jack in my Coke, now; a little more high in my smoke now. Sure, I stay till they’re all long gone, now; and I take the long way home now."

He rolled his eyes once more before his icy voice rang out once more, "If I want to drink, I will do it. If I want to numb the pain you caused me, then I will. It's not up to you anymore. I will be fine without you. So, stop asking about me and stop caring."

With that, he turned on his heel and stumbled away from you. Despite how intoxicated he was, the words he had left you with were clear as day. He could hear the sobs leaving your body as he rounded the corner to the elevator up to his level. He couldn't lie, those hurt him to his core, to know he was the one causing it, but there was nothing he could do at this point. He was long gone, the already broken James Buchannan Barnes was finally gone.

"I can finally stretch out in our king sized bed, if I make it that far. But, filling in all these blanks you left isn't all that hard.."

As he finally reached the bedroom you once shared, he hit his knees directly inside the door. The sobs raked his body as he finally broke down for the first time in weeks. He made a promise to himself that he would get over you quickly, but the only way he could drown his sorrows was chasing the bottom of a bottle each night. Living in the room he once spent all his time with you in was awful for Bucky. Every time he woke up he was greeted with sights he was used to seeing you in. Waking up to a lack of a warm body each morning set the mood, usually, for the day. He eventually crawled over to your king bed, plopping down in the middle, letting the sound of his sniffles and the whiskey lull him to sleep.

On the other side of the compound, you weren't any better. You sat and bawled in the hallway until Wanda heard you from across the hall and helped you into your room. She wet a rag with cold water and pressed it to your face to try and calm you down. When your tears finally ceased, the witch wiped your face and threw the rag into the laundry. She rubbed your back and hummed softly as you also fell asleep.

Quiet finally consumed the compound as Wanda tip-toed out of your room. The team had no idea how they would tackle this issue, except to take it day by day.

[simsadventures]

After All: Chapter 16: The Painful Part

Summary: You’re in an induced coma, to let your body heal. Bucky is being treated as well, Bruce and others trying to wake him up from his super soldier mode. Everything is a little more painful.

Warnings: angst, hospital, coma, pain, and more angst (I know, I’m horrible)

Word Count: 1888

A/N: This chapter is a little shorter again, I’m sorry. I also don’t know why I keep coming up with the angst, my brain obviously hates my heart, or something like that. And even more angst coming our way. Yay, right? Anyway, let me know what you guys think, and if you’d like an angsty ending or a happy ending. Love you all!! xx

Series Masterlist __ Masterlist

< Previous Chapter

Your body was laying on the bed, resting. Bruce was standing next to you, checking all of your vitals, putting it in a chart so that he knew if your body was healing correctly. He felt responsible for your injuries and volunteered to be by your body until you woke up. And it would probably take some time, all your injuries taken into consideration.

When the fight started, it didn’t last long, and he changed into Hulk. He didn’t remember much after that, knowing that he was smashing the agents outside the building, being conscious enough not to do it inside. But that was it. He wished he had a little more endurance and that he could keep the green guy away for a little longer. He usually didn’t have that much problem to stay put and controlled, but in such high-danger situations, he just couldn’t help himself.

But it was times like these he wished he could. Just to be there where nobody else was and maybe he could’ve stalled Barnes a bit longer. Or hit him hard enough to knock him out. He knew that Bucky wasn’t at fault, not at all. There wasn’t a single part of him that would blame Bucky for what happened. He blamed the Revengers, or what they called themselves. He wanted every single one of them dead and gone.

And most of them already were. At least those who attacked the compound. Tony and Steve were currently searching for their headquarters, ready to take them down for what they did to their team. Nat was also hurt, but not as bad as you, and with her nature, she didn’t want to stay in bed for long. Bruce attended both of you, making sure the women of his life were both ok. But while Natasha was up and running after half a day, you were a different story.

The knife the Winter Soldier stuck in you hit your spleen, and that caused the massive bleeding. The doctors weren’t able to salvage the organ but knew that you’d survive without it. Their main worry was how your body would react to the blood loss. So far, all your other organs seemed vital and healthy, but everything could change within hours. That was why Bruce didn’t leave your side, making sure he would catch even the beginning of some catastrophe.

You seemed so peaceful as if you were just resting, napping in a long afternoon in the lab. And it was what broke Bruce’s heart even more. He just wished he could say a magic word and you’d wake up, as good as new. Or better yet, he wished he could just turn back time, and make sure you never got hurt in the first place. And not only for himself. He was pretty damn sure that the second Bucky woke up, and realised what happened, he’d hate himself for the rest of his life. Bruce knew how vital this new relationship with Bucky was to you, and to think that it might all end because Bucky wouldn’t let himself near you, made Bruce feel uneasy.

Meanwhile, Bucky was treated as well. But his treatment was a bit different from yours. While you had to undergo surgery to stop the bleeding and now all they could do was to sit and wait, with Bucky, things were slightly more challenging.

In the fight, Steve disarmed him easily, because Bucky was distracted by you and what you were trying to tell him. It took a few good punches, and Bucky passed out. When he woke up, he was still in the Winter Soldier state of mind, trashing like crazy and unwilling to yield. When Steve wasn’t helping Tony look into the Revengers and their base, he was beside Bucky, making him remember. The team even called Shuri to make sure the most intelligent people in the world were there, helping their friend.

It took a while, but they realised that words didn’t do much to Bucky. He would sit there, with his brain shut, not listening at all. Steve could see the confusion in Bucky’s face when you were talking to him, touching him, and trying to make him remember you. And that gave Steve what he thought was a perfect idea.

It took him and Sam a good few hours to collect everything they needed, but Steve was pretty happy with what they were able to collect and prepare to help Bucky remember everything. Steve knew that the second Bucky came to himself, he would crumble. Not only was it his biggest nightmare, being used to hurt people again, but this time he was ordered to destroy his family, people who accepted him despite his dark past. But most importantly, he hurt you. And Steve wasn’t sure how Bucky’d take it, but he knew that it wouldn’t be nice. Still, his friend needed to wake up, pain or not.

Shuri was positive that Steve’s idea would work, and so they set their plan in motion.

They rolled Bucky’s chair into the private cinema in the compound. Bucky was trashing and yelling, obviously distressed what would happen to him, but the second he saw the big screen, he stopped. His brain couldn’t work out how this could hurt him. Were they gonna play him a psychological movie, hoping he would wake up? The Soldier in him scoffed and waited.

The screen lit up, and a first picture appeared. It was the one from war, only Steve and Bucky in the shot, both laughing at something that happened behind the camera, looking carefree and relaxed, despite the circumstances. Then, a video played, again from the war, with the whole Howling Commando, marching towards the camp.

Steve looked over at Bucky, who was trying to escape his confines. He was very obviously uncomfortable, and Steve smirked. It was precisely what they wanted. If there wasn’t any reaction, just like with the spoken word, they would probably despair. But seeing that Bucky’s brain was telling him to run was a good sign.

The time jumped a bit backwards, to when Steve and Bucky where teenagers. They didn’t have many photos from that time, but some still existed. Steve had to smile seeing his friend so smug and happy, while Steve was almost a head shorter than Buck, trying to look tough and not as if the wind blew a little harder, it would blow him away.

There was a time jump again, this time to this century. It was shortly after Bucky woke up, still shy and unsure of his own position in the world, but Steve and Sam were guiding him. There were also videos, of their training, of their pranking each other, pretty much just being jerks as always. Bucky wasn’t trashing anymore, just watching the screen intently. It was enveloping his senses, no chance of him escaping the memories.

The last few images were of you. They were all pulled from Bucky’s phone because Bucky liked to take silly photos and videos of you in the last few weeks. They were simple things, nothing sexual or of that sort. It was you in the kitchen, dancing silly to your favourite song while cooking a meal. Or you laughing uncontrollably on the couch because of something Bucky said. Or Bucky tickling you and you begging him to stop, laughing so much, tears were trickling down your cheeks. It was the little things, you calling him by his name, looking at him like he was the only important person in the whole damn world, that finally made him snap.

Bucky took a ragged breath, looking at your joyful face and it hit him like a tidal wave. He gasped and screamed, tears flowing down uncontrollably.

“What have I done? Oh my God, what did I do?” He was whispering and shaking, unable to stop the wave of emotions coming over him.

Steve ran to Bucky’s side, looking at his face, trying to find any traces of the Soldier, but could find none. It was just his friend, broken by his actions.

He snapped his head to Steve, looking him dead in the eyes.

“Where is Y/N? Is she ok? Please tell me that I didn’t…” He couldn’t even finish the sentence, the lump in his throat growing by each passing second.

“She’s in the hospital wing, bud. She lost a lot of blood, but Bruce is taking care of her, and they all believe that she will be alright in no time.” Steve tried to sound as reassuring as he could, but it wasn’t doing much to Bucky’s panic.

He hurt you. He was holding you by your throat, choking the life of you and then, in an unexpected moment, he stabbed you. HE STABBED YOU! He promised never to hurt you again, and here he was, fucking stabbing you. You must have hated him. He was doomed. The only person that could make a better guy out of him would never let him touch her. But he prayed to God that you survived. You didn’t have to talk to him, hell, you could go and move out if it made you happy, but he needed to know that you were alright. That he wasn’t the reason why you died. Just the thought of him being the cause of your death made a cold shiver run down his spine.

“Would you like to see her?” Steve asked, hoping that Bucky wouldn’t dive too deep in self-pity and would let you decide whether or not you wanted to continue whatever relationship there was between the two of you.

“I can’t, punk,” he mumbled and looked at Shuri. “You’re not from here, who are you?”

“I’m Shuri, and I come from Wakanda, Sergeant Barnes,” she smiled at him, and he simply nodded, even though he had no idea where this Wakanda was. But it sounded like it was far away.

“Can you cure me?”

Shuri frowned and thought for a bit. “I think I could if you were with me in Wakanda where I have all of my technology.”

Bucky just nodded and stood up from the chair. But Steve put an arm on his shoulder, which made Bucky look at him.

“Bucky, she wouldn’t want you to run away from here. Give her a chance to make up her own mind.”

Bucky scoffed and laughed bitterly. “She won’t ever want to see me. I hurt her for a lifetime, Stevie. I think it’s for the best that I clean myself out of the way. I’m ready whenever you are, Shuri.”

She nodded and smiled sadly at Steve, not wanting to fight neither of them and just complied with Bucky’s request.

Steve stood there in the small cinema, watching his best friend leave to Wakanda with a heavy heart. He was almost 100% sure that you wouldn’t blame him, you weren’t afraid of Bucky when he was choking you, you still looked at him lovingly. He just didn’t know how to tell this to Bucky. He sighed and walked out of there, walking to Tony’s office, trying to take his mind off of the recent events hoping you’d wake up soon enough for you to fly to Wakanda and show Bucky what an idiot he’s been.

/Next Chapter >

After All:

@iheartsebastianstan​ @readermia​ @kolakube9​ @ibookishqueen​ @thewintersoldierswifu @emogril​ @the-melancholyfeels​ @pinkleopardss​ @supervengerslock​ @the-soulofdevil​ @jessyballet​  @bxrnsfeyson​ @38leticia @sparkling-gayyyy​ @deansbbysblog​ @lustgardn​ @wantingtobekorra​ @backflip-into-a-garbage-can​ @thefifthmaraud3r​ @calwitch​

Bucky Taglist

@this-kitten-is-smitten​ @sebbbystaaan​ @paradisiacalsparks​ @crazybutconfidentaf​ @owlyannah​ @lassini​ @s-trawberryv-eins​

Marvel Taglist

@voltage-my2dlove​ @kneel-begyourpardon​ @lumar014​ @ptrs-prkrs​

Forever Tag:

@eileenalone​ @sasbb23​ @p8tn0lish​ @coffeebooksandfandom​ @waiting4inspiration​ @caswinchester2000​ @mogaruke​

[myemergence]

(never) leaving you behind

A/N: Thanks to Nicole for the beta on this!

For Buddie First Kiss Week prompt: because they think they’re going to die.

@buddiefirstkissweek

Check out my other works over on AO3

***

“I don’t think this is what Christopher meant when he said ‘have fun, Dad’,” Eddie says dryly. He grunts as the Jeep jumps over the ragged road, grabbing onto the door frame for security.

Buck rolls his eyes, glancing at Eddie before bringing his attention back to the rough terrain leading to the canyon’s hiking trails. Buck begged Eddie to come out with him today to do something while Christopher was away at summer camp. He was kid-free —he had the freedom to do whatever he wanted—and Eddie’s choice would have been to have a Netflix marathon or catch up on cleaning, maybe even read a book while the house was quiet. Buck’s idea was quite the opposite: go hiking. 

In the grueling California heat.

Eddie glances at his coffee mug as it jostles with each and every bump. It’s too early for this. He really needs a caffeine fix before he tells Buck where he can shove his ‘adventure’ and ‘embracing life’. He uses the back of his hand to dab away the light sheen of sweat that’s already beading on his brow.

“I don’t think he meant for you to stay at home in your pajamas and be a  dull  dad, Eddie. He’s going to ask what you did while he was away at camp. Which, by the way, I advised you heavily against, if you’ll remember.”

“Oh, I remember,” Eddie mutters, and he’s certain that Buck purposely hits this bump a little harder than the rest. He narrows his eyes.

“I’m just saying,” Buck continues, his body somehow relaxed despite the steady stream of bumps and the gritty road that crunches beneath the tires. “He’s not going to want to hear about how you watched Tiger King, or whatever the hell it is that you’re watching these days.” He finally brings the Jeep to a stop, and Eddie breathes out a sigh.

“Yeah, he doesn’t want to have such a dull and boring dad,” Eddie grumbles, grabbing the travel mug and taking a few sips, unmoving, as Buck hops out and moves towards the back to pull their hiking bags out. Eddie spent the better part of Christopher’s early years in a warzone and aside from his work with the 118, his life these days is less than riveting. Eddie isn’t unaware of that, but having Buck point it out to him puts him on the defensive. 

“There’s nothing wrong with that, it’s just—” Buck scrambles to get the words out, but Eddie cuts him off abruptly.

“Oh, I can’t wait to hear this,” Eddie says sarcastically as he climbs out of the Jeep and turns his full attention to Buck, arms crossed over his chest. “It’s just what?”

“It’s just you’re better than that, Eds. You’re not some boring, old man. You’re a cool dad, an  exciting  dad.”

Eddie raises his brow as he takes his pack from Buck and snorts a laugh. “Really?” 

“Really. How many kids get to say that their dad is a hero?” Buck pauses, watching as Eddie sets the coffee mug back in the cupholder. “ You really should stick to water for the rest of today.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Sure thing,  Papa Buck .” He hauls his pack onto his back and watches Buck do the same, clipping the buckle across his chest to secure it. Although Eddie protested the entire way out here, he’s glad to be spending time with Buck. He’d prefer to be relaxing at his place over coffee or a few beers though, not waking up at 5 am on his day off.

But, he’ll take what he can get at this point.

______________________________

Buck walks beside Eddie, matching his stride step for step.  They’ve been hiking for a few hours already, though Eddie’s sure it’s been twelve days. “Isn’t this better than a Netflix marathon?”

Eddie takes a few long sips from his water. “Oh yeah, this is so much more relaxing.”

“Stop.”

Eddie shrugs his shoulders and lets out a sarcastic laugh. “I mean, I could—”

“No Eddie,  stop .” He almost continues walking, only halting when he feels Buck’s hand closing around his wrist. He’s not sure why, but his heart races at the contact. Buck’s palm is tacky, his fingers a hot bracelet around his wrist. 

“I—”

“Look around,” Buck’s voice is softer now as he gestures his other hand in front of them. The blue sky and bright sun are the finishing touches to the picturesque view of the canyon. Eddie’s heart continues to beat rapidly in his chest and he wonders if Buck can feel his heartbeat race beneath his fingertips.

Buck’s hand drops away and they stand together in silence. His eyes sweep over the view and he feels a certain peacefulness here. There’s a stillness and a sense of calm that can’t be explained. “It’s… beautiful.” Eddie says finally, glancing over at Buck, noticing the way that the sun brightens the blue in his eyes.  Beautiful .

He swallows hard before he feels Buck’s hand on his shoulder. “Come on, it gets better,” Buck promises. Eddie nods, the contact pulling Eddie away from thoughts of swimming in the ocean of his best friend’s gorgeous blue eyes. He needs to pull it together.

Eddie tries to pinpoint when his feelings went from platonic to… whatever this is. 

He realized after the lawsuit how much he needed Buck in his life. His absence in Eddie’s life had been excruciating, trying to navigate the days without him there felt impossible, and facing life’s challenges without him felt insurmountable. So he reminds himself to keep his feelings in check because he can’t face that kind of loss again, even if that means entertaining every ridiculous idea that he has.

Sure, Eddie had put up a fight about coming today. But both he and Buck knew he’d never say no, that he  couldn’t .

So, they continue their hike, and Eddie’s legs ache with fatigue. “Buck, I need to sit down and drink some water,” He grumbles as he takes several long sips of water, unable to remember the last time that water was so refreshing.

“Alright, take a break but I just want to check this out quick,” Buck says as he walks closer to the edge of the Canyon that overlooks the valley below.

“Don’t get too close,” Eddie warns as he digs in his bag for a granola bar. 

“How am I supposed to get a decent selfie if I don’t get close?” Buck jokes as he pulls out his phone.

“Buck, don’t be an idiot,” Eddie says tersely as he glances up, seeing that Buck isn’t actually trying to take a selfie. Eddie pulls out his own phone briefly, frowning when he looks down and sees that he doesn’t have any signal. “I swear to God, if you end up being one of those morons that falls off of a cliff taking a selfie, I’ll kill you myself.”

There’s a stretch of silence.

“Shit.” Eddie hears the sudden change in Buck’s tone, tight in alarm, and his head snaps up. He watches Buck blink blearily, his eyes struggling to focus. The fuzzy look in Buck’s eyes reminds Eddie that Buck hasn’t eaten anything since they started the hike.

“Buck,” Eddie calls out in warning, moving quickly to get to his feet. “Buck, get away from-” The words die in the back of Eddie’s throat as terror rips through him. He sees Buck stumble, hears the sickening sound of crumbling rock and the world stutters to a halt.

Shock registers on Buck’s face seconds before he disappears along from the edge of the cliff he was just standing on.

The clifftop is calm and still. In Buck's absence, the sky remains as blue as his eyes; the sun still blinding in its light without the glow of Buck’s smile.

It feels inexplicably wrong in a world where Buck no longer exists.

“Buck!” Eddie’s legs crumble beneath him and he feels paralyzed as the gravity of the situation overwhelms him. Buck is…  gone , almost as if he was never there to begin with.

Suddenly Eddie is picturing a world without Buck, the grief and weight of that slamming into him so hard that a sob bursts past his lips. 

“BUCK!” He screams desperately, scrambling forward, careful to slow his movements a few feet from the edge.

Eddie’s holding his breath, waiting. Waiting for a response from Buck. Waiting for Buck to say something. Waiting for any sound to indicate that he’s okay.  

Any sign at all that he’s somehow survived this. 

Nothing comes. 

“Fuck. Evan!” Eddie howls, the terror that’s clawing at his chest threatening to suffocate him. His hands shake as he lowers himself to the ground, crawling the last few feet, dragging himself to the edge. Another helpless sob rips through him.  

He can see Buck’s body now, and he forces out a shallow breath. He tries to level his voice as he calls out to him again. “Buck!” Somehow he’s managed to land on a small ledge about fifteen feet below, his body hanging precariously, fingers white-knuckled from the strain as he grips at the edge. He sees cuts and scrapes, trying to catalog the damage like he does every day on the job. His eyes sweep over Buck’s face, seeing pain and fear there. 

Then it hits him. Hard.

The relief he feels when he first sees Buck somewhere other than lifeless at the bottom of the canyon quickly fades, It’s replaced with something familiar; helplessness and fear which threaten to suffocate him. Feelings that are too familiar when it comes to Buck. Eddie tries to blink away the horrific memory that creeps in, threatening to paralyze him. 

The noise, it’s so loud. Eddie can barely hear anything, Buck is trapped beneath the ladder rig and he’s unable to escape, pinned down. Eddie’s helpless to do anything to help. They’re at the mercy of a hate-filled psychopath, and he’s looking at Buck like he’s collateral damage. Eddie chokes on the fear, raw and bitter in the back of his throat. How can they just stand here and look on as Buck writhes in pain?

But they’re forced to. And for what feels like hours Eddie has to swallow down the absolute terror that’s rising up in his chest, gripping too tightly like a vice and making it impossible to breathe. They need to help him, they need to do something . But the police cordon on scene makes it impossible, and they’re forced to hang back.

He has no control. He can do nothing for Buck.  Nothing.

Eddie forces the feeling down. He could do nothing for Buck after the explosion, but this isn’t the ladder rig. He let Buck down before and he’s damn sure that he’s not going to do it again this time.

“Eddie,” Buck all but pleas, eyes flitting to Eddie’s as he attempts to gain some footing below to push himself up. Eddie pulls his phone out to try calling for help, but as soon as he looks at his phone he remembers they have no signal, and he all but throws his phone over the precipice. There’s nobody he can call, nobody that he can send for help.

“Buck, can you grab hold of anything else? Is there anything you can put your foot on?”

“I’m trying,” Buck grunts, and fuck, Eddie can see the fear in his eyes and hear the tremble in his voice. Eddie blinks, forcing the tears down his cheeks. “I-I’ll get it. Go get help.” Eddie registers that he’s pushing his fear down for Eddie’s benefit, and it’s everything he can do not to scream.

The self-sacrificing fuck.

He wants Eddie to leave him while he dangles off of a cliff and then falls to his death. Alone.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Eddie growls.

“Eddie, you have to go get help. There’s nothing you can do.” He knows Buck isn’t going to let it go, and this battle of stubbornness is going to end one way or another on this cliff. He’s out of Eddie’s reach, about fifteen feet down but Eddie’s not ready to let any distance get between them, not again. He refuses to stand by this time.

“I’m not leaving you here to die. So save your energy, alright?” There’s no way that Buck can hold on much longer. Eddie sees the obvious shake in his shoulders, he hears the grunts as Buck gives everything he has to try to pull himself upright onto the flat surface. Eddie glances down, sees the gaps and crevices in the rock. He can do this. He has to do this. He can’t let this be the end.

He won't.

“Eddie, no!”

They’ve scaled down cliff sides, done repel rescues,  and dealt with worse conditions before, but Eddie knows this is different. There’s no harness keeping him safe, there’s no winch to lift them to safety once he gets down to Buck. He knows that he's out of options. This time, he refuses to leave Buck behind. Eddie takes a steadying breath and presses his fingers into the Saint Christopher medal that hangs around his neck. He shifts his body, turning so he teeters over the edge, finally finding footholes and trying to ignore the steep drop below.

“Eddie, please! You have to think of Christopher!” Buck yells, continuing to struggle below. 

“I  am,” Eddie grunts as he moves down the face of the cliff, little by little. “Christopher would never forgive me for giving up on his Buck.” It isn’t much longer until he’s on the ledge that Buck is dangling from. Eddie lays flat on his stomach, moving quickly to grab Buck’s arms. It’s a long tense moment as they struggle to get Buck back onto the ledge without Buck losing grip or Eddie slipping down with him.

“You’re an idiot!” Of all the words that Eddie’s expecting after he prevented his friend from falling to his death, these weren’t among then. Buck’s tone is absolutely seething, it prickles at Eddie’s skin.

Both men pant, their backs pressed against the hard rock behind them. 

Eddie barely manages a breathless laugh, turning his head to look at Buck. “How about a thank you for saving your life?” Buck’s jaw is set and he rolls his eyes wordlessly, grimacing as he looks down at his battered hands but doesn’t turn to look at Eddie. He watches Buck in silence when he doesn’t say anything. “Did you think I was just going to leave you down here to die alone?” 

“That was the plan,” Buck whispers, and Eddie feels the world around him fracture.

“How could you think that I would just… let you die?” Eddie has to force the words out as he watches Buck. Finally, he lifts his eyes to Eddie’s and he sees the pain there, the reluctance. “When you were being crushed by the ladder rig I was forced to stand by. I couldn’t do anything to help you. All I could do was pray that we’d be able to get to you in time. I-I couldn’t leave this up to chance again.”

“If you would’ve just left me down here, you would’ve been okay, Eddie. You—” Buck cuts himself off, the broken look on his face registering his total lack of faith that they'll be able to find a way out of this. “Christopher’s already lost his mom and you barely survived your last brush with death. I am  so  pissed at you for putting yourself in this situation.”

Eddie’s quiet as he looks out at the steep drop below. “But I  did survive. And think about how many times you’ve survived when you obviously shouldn’t have. We’re going to find a way out of this. You can’t give up before we’ve even tried.”

So they try. If their hands weren’t already cut up before, attempting to climb back up the face of the cliff proves impossible. It’s too steep, too high, too unstable. Each attempt causes pebbles to rain down until they give up, panting from the excruciating heat of the sun beating down on them. No drinks, no food, no supplies.

They sit beside each other silently, until daylight fades and dusk settles on them. Eddie isn’t sure what’s worse, the silence forces him into his own thoughts or that Buck has been silent for hours now. He’s used to Buck being loud and boisterous, an overwhelming presence that makes Eddie feel complete. The absence of that energizing life — the fear of their sealed fate — leaves Eddie feeling lifeless.

Eddie glances over at Buck, briefly wonders he’s actually fallen asleep because of how quiet he’s been. He sees Buck staring straight ahead. “Are you still mad at me?” A shiver coursing through his body as the temperature begins to drop, crossing his arms tightly across his chest. He wonders if Buck is even listening.

“I don’t know how to answer that,” Buck whispers. “It wasn’t that long ago that you narrowly survived death.” He sounds like all of his energy has been zapped and Eddie wishes there was some way that he could bring him back. His tone is rough from exhaustion and heavy with guilt. “I’m the one that said you needed adventure in your life.  I’m  the one that said—”

“No,” Eddie says, reaching blindly for Buck’s hand and wincing through the pain that jolts through him. “This is not on you. I chose to come out here. I could have said no. I mean, Netflix  may  have been a little safer.”

"This is just what I do,” Buck says, the self-deprecation in his voice clear. “First I put Christopher at risk and he almost dies. Then I make you come out here with me for some ridiculous guy’s adventure while Christopher’s at camp so you have a story to tell and… we’re not gonna make it, Eddie.  Nobody’s gonna find us.”

“This isn’t your fault. I wanted to spend time with you, Buck. I-” This isn’t how Eddie’s pictured this going, not that he’s imagined a thousand different scenarios. All of the possible ways that Eddie’s walls can come down enough for him to tell Buck how he actually feels. Buck might be right, they might not get rescued and… they might die out here. “Did you tell anyone about hiking?”

“I told Maddie I was going hiking, but I uh, I never said where.”

“It’s okay,” Eddie tells him quietly, though his voice breaks a little. He gently squeezes Buck’s hand and scoots closer until his side is pressed against Buck’s.

“When that drilling rig came down on top of the well, and you were still down there… the world stopped. And I know that you cut your rope because you had to save the kid, and I… I definitely would have done the same thing, Eddie.” Buck’s voice is hoarse as he turns to look at him. Despite the darkness, he can see the way that Buck’s eyes shine with tears. “I know we haven’t really talked about it because you said you were  fine .”

“I  was …. I-I am.”

“We’re not fine right now. And what happened to you down there… it wasn’t fine. Christopher almost lost you. And then what would happen to him, huh?”

A choked sound slips past Eddie’s lips then. “It was okay. Because I knew you were up there. You were safe.” He closes his eyes, leaning his head back against the hard rock, trying to let the icy discomfort distract him from the burning ache in his chest. “I knew that if I couldn’t make it back to him… that you would make sure he was okay. That if I died, you would’ve made sure that he didn’t forget me, that he’d still have his days with his Buck. He has people who love him, but I didn’t give up,” he whispers. “I fought to come back to Chris, to you.”

Buck drags his free hand through his short curls. “You fought so hard to come back after the drill rig collapsed and yet you threw it away like it was nothing to come down here today. Putting yourself back in danger. You just gave up on everything, on your life, on  Christopher. You were up there and you were safe! Why?” The volume and anger drain from his tone and he ends brokenly, his voice barely above a whisper.  “I- I’m not that important. Not like he is. Not like Isabel or Pe-”

Eddie feels a wave of nausea overcome him. He blinks, the tears shaking loose and slipping down his cheeks “What?” He demands, his tone bewildered. “How can you say that you’re not important, Ev? How can you be so blind? You are so important. You matter the most. I could never just… leave you behind.”

Eddie feels tremors against his side, an aftershock of the sobs that have overcome Buck. He breathes out the steadiest breath that he can muster, slipping an around Buck’s shoulders and drawing him close. Eddie’s fingers slip through Buck’s hair and he tries to ignore the way that Buck’s hair is becoming wet with Eddie’s own tears. He repeats the soothing motion, his lips nearly brushing Buck’s forehead. “I’ll never leave you behind.”

He isn’t sure Buck truly understands the weight of those words, the thought of existing without Buck now is like a rainbow trying to exist without the sun; an actual impossibility. He remembers all of the days that Buck’s bright smile and warmth have pushed aside the overbearing clouds that Eddie’s unable to weather alone; a dry shelter to get warm amidst a storm. 

“I’m sorry,” Buck sniffles and for a moment Eddie’s afraid he’s crossed a line, that invisible line that he’s been hovering over precariously for months. The line that friends don’t cross, inching closer and closer and barely staying on the side of friendship, gazing longingly at more. 

Buck shifts slightly to look up at Eddie. “Thank you… for not leaving me behind.” Buck’s voice is raw, hoarse from crying. Eddie sees the trail Buck’s tears have left behind and he itches to brush them away. To assure him that it’s going to be okay.

Instead, he nods. “You don’t have to thank me for that, Buck. It was selfish,” he tries for a joking tone, but it falls flat and his voice shakes. Because Eddie knows the underlying truth: it was selfish. He saved Buck for his own benefit, because he can’t deal with a life without Buck. 

Buck shifts in his embrace and Eddie’s fingers slip from his hair. Buck kneels in front of Eddie and, without warning, Buck’s hands are on his face, the space between them is gone. Buck’s lips press against his, rough and needy. Desperate tears slip from Eddie’s eyes as he parts his lips and Buck moves closer, until he’s straddling Eddie’s lap. Their chests press together and Eddie cradles the back of Buck’s head with one hand, the other grasping onto Buck’s shirt like a lifeline.  

Buck draws back, heart still thundering in his chest while Eddie’s hand remains balled in a fist at the front of Buck’s shirt. Slowly, his eyes open and he has to remind himself how to breathe with striking blue eyes watching him.

The rapid rise and fall of Buck’s chest is captivating, overcome by the fact that they’re both still alive. They’ve survived so much and this is happening. Buck kissed him after all of this time. Maybe it’s born from desperation because they don’t know if or when they’ll be found, maybe he would have kissed anyone at this moment — Eddie’s not sure. But he feels a light fluttering in his stomach, and he swallows hard as he tries to keep it at bay— that feeling that Eddie’s trying not to give a name to; hope. 

It’s hard not to let that feeling surge through him, difficult to remain level-headed and impossible to be logical with the heavy presence in his lap. Buck’s eyes bore into him, parting his lips like he wants to say something, like he needs to say something. The air between them is charged, “Eddie,” he croaks. Eddie grabs Buck’s face, dragging Buck deeper into his space. He wants to find refuge in him until nothing else exists.

There’s no canyon, no dark, no fears here.

Only Buck.

Soft lips brush against Eddie’s once more before he withdraws. Eddie’s hand rests against Buck’s chest, his heartbeat strong and steady. “We can’t give up yet,” Eddie tells him quietly. “We have something to fight for, both of us — so many things, Buck. Christopher. Maddie and Chim’s baby. Our families. The 118.”

Buck’s nod is barely perceptible. “Each other,” he adds, brushing his thumb against the corner of Eddie’s mouth.

“So let’s rest. When the sun rises, we’ll find a way.”

They press against each other, cuddling the best that they can for an uncomfortable and sleepless night. 

______________________________

They spend the morning ignoring their rumbling stomachs and parched mouths. Buck tries hoisting Eddie as high as he can, trying to lift him high enough that he has something to grip onto, to pull himself to safety so that he can call for help. They try. Again, and again, and again. 

“Let’s just… give it a rest for now, okay?” Eddie says, his arms and legs shaking with exertion.  

“Fine,” Eddie hears Buck’s clipped tone, and he tries not to grimace. He knows that Buck doesn’t want to quit, doesn’t want to give up.  That’s just who Buck is, a fighter. But he’s physically hurting, Eddie can see it. He needs him to take a break. “It’s only gonna get harder, the longer we’re out here.”

“I know,” Eddie says quietly. “Just a couple minutes, please.” He reaches out for Buck’s hand, the heat of the sun hot against his sweaty back. “Please.” Buck’s shoulders sag slightly, but he nods. Eddie sits down on the ground, gently grasping Buck’s hand.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Buck says after a minute, and, if they weren’t in such a dire situation, Eddie would smile. Because that’s forever Buck, trying to learn something new.

“You know more about most things than I do,” Eddie says after a minute, gently bumping Buck’s shoulder with his own. 

“Useless knowledge, really,” Buck says. “But just think of one thing...two if you want to be the overachiever that I know you are.”

“Okay, two things,” Eddie murmurs, his aching hand gently gripping Buck’s.

“You’re the most selfless person that I know,” he pauses, fingertips tracing a pattern on the back of Buck’s hand. “I know you say that you make everything about you, but you don’t. You-you love harder than anyone else. You put yourself in danger to make sure everyone else is okay. You did it during the tsunami, with Chris. You did it yesterday,” his voice shakes, “for me.”

“Eddie, I’m not—”

“Don’t ever do that again.” 

Quiet falls over them, as they look out at the scenic view in front of them. He knows his heavy words aren’t what Buck was looking for, but he needs to be heard. Needs him to understand his importance, that he has a place. Not just as a firefighter, but as Buck. Minutes pass and Eddie gently tugs Buck’s hand closer, into his lap. 

“And, number two? It’s illegal to milk someone else’s cow in Texas.”

Buck rolls his eyes and a laugh slips past his lips. “Shut the fuck up.”

Laughter washes over Eddie, it’s been an entire day since he laughed, but his laughter is contagious. “I couldn’t make something that stupid up if I tried, man.” Their hands slot together carefully and Eddie’s eyes slip closed. He takes the time to listen to Buck breathing beside him, committing to memory the pattern of each breath instead of focusing on uncertainty. “Now it’s your turn.”

“Shhhh,” Buck shushes him loudly, holding a finger to his lips. Eddie rolls his eyes, tempted to smack Buck on the back of the head. But it’s the silence that allows Eddie to hear something, too. Noise from above.

Hikers.

They’re both on their feet in an instant. “HEY! We’re down here!” They shout and it’s a few tense moments before they see a couple of hikers peer over the edge. 

For the first time in over twenty-four hours, Eddie feels like he can finally breathe again.

______________________________

It’s been nearly a week since they were rescued. After they finally made it to safety, Eddie barely left Buck’s side for the first few days. He wanted to make sure that he was okay, and those few days after had been a little tense to say the least. Buck had kissed him, and Eddie kissed him back. But that was when they weren’t sure if they were going to make it out alive or not. Things were different now, Eddie understood that.

Life and death situations, they make people do crazy things. 

Buck steps into the kitchen where Eddie is pulling things out of the fridge. “What’re you doing?”

“I’m making us lunch, before we meet the bus to get Chris. He’s gonna want you there,” Eddie pauses, “I mean, unless you had other plans?”

“No, no I definitely want to be there,” Buck chuckles, looking at Eddie closely and his lips remain turned up in an amused smirk. “It’s just… we narrowly escaped dying a few days ago, I’d rather not tempt fate again.” The  asshole .

“Buck,” Eddie narrows his eyes in warning, setting down the ingredients on the counter. 

Buck holds up his hands in surrender. And dammit, despite the fact that he’s making a mockery out of Eddie’s ability to cook, he wants nothing more than to push Buck against the refrigerator and taste his lips again. 

He considers swallowing the feeling, pushing it back down where it can’t be seen. But then he remembers the swell of panic he felt when the probability of losing Buck was high. The idea of overstepping, the repercussions of making assumptions seem a little smaller now, less intimidating. 

Buck’s looking at him with a curious expression on his face, and Eddie closes in the distance between them with a few long strides. “I’m probably gonna regret this,” Eddie mutters, one hand resting against Buck’s chest and pushing him backward until he’s pressed against the fridge. Eddie’s other hand cups his cheek, thumb brushing tenderly against his jawline as his lips ghost over Buck’s, not quite touching.

Buck’s face tips down, blue eyes dancing with mirth find his amber ones, “I’m gonna regret it if you don’t kiss me already. Do I need to almost die for you to do it? I’m sure I can-”

“Shut up,” Eddie growls, pressing his hips forward into Buck’s like a warning. He feels Buck’s breath hitch and the corner of Eddie’s lip turns up at the result. His lips brush against Buck’s, slow and teasing. He nips at Buck’s bottom lip, then kisses the corner of his mouth tenderly before pulling back. 

“Better get busy.”  

“I’m sorry. Wh-what?” Buck stutters, a hazy expression clouding his features as he tries to process Eddie’s words.

“Better get busy making lunch. Since you don’t want to die today,” Eddie grins, a small feeling of satisfaction settling over him, stemming from the realization that he caused the dazed look on Buck’s face. He flashes a bright smile in turn, and it reaches his eyes this time. Eddie looks at him fondly, silently intertwining their fingers, as his heart swells.

Finally, on the afternoon before Christopher returns from sleep away camp, Eddie finds the fun that his son had been wishing him all along. 

[snarkwriteswrasslin]

sprung spring | backseats and phone calls; kyle o’reilly [m]

PROMPTS USED:

Backseat + car + spontaneous sex + desperate + “car sex looks so much easier in the movies.” + revenge on an ex sex + while one is on the phone + “Answer the phone, I dare you.” + “Did you like it?” “Would you judge me if I said I did?”+  Caught off-guard kiss -

NOTES:

So.. This is one that I really, really enjoyed writing because it gave me a chance to kinda play with interruptions / tension levels. I have to give a huuuge hug to @kyleoreillysknee​ for the major inspiration given and the line that I used about marking / “wearing marks with pride”. Naturally, this was going onto the blog when I found it again bc I’m lowkey proud of the way it turned out.

WARNINGS:

uhh.. body fluids, almost having sex in the backseat of a car, slightest hints of dominant!focused Kyle, sex while on the phone, oral sex..

PAIRING:

Kyle O’Reilly x OFC, Sophia

                       KYLE O’REILLY & SOPHIA in

                   BACKSEATS & PHONE CALLS;

One look into those eyes told the tale and all Kyle could do as a result was sigh and pull her close. Normally, she’d keep a little distance but tonight she just went into his arms, her own looping around his neck.

Sophia didn’t even realize she’d actually started to cry until she was; the tears soaking the front of Kyle’s black tee shirt. Look at me, she thought to herself, I’m a pathetic mess. If I keep going, I will lose Kyle too. And almost the instant the thought registered in her mind, it brought forth a slew of others, the most prominent being the realization that losing Kyle in any capacity… It really bothered her. It was upsetting to even consider. Kyle had always been a part of her life, but as she stood there, looking up into those eyes, watching the way that strong jaw set when he realized what had happened… Something was happening and whatever it was had her heart all fluttery and her stomach rolling lazily, almost as if she were nervous.

Or anticipating something.

And the final thing she noticed was that the tension that had been hanging around lately was… So much heavier tonight. She almost couldn’t breathe.

Rather than say anything that might make him angry enough to go find her current boyfriend and explode, Sophia chose to settle against him. Lightly. Almost warily, because she could feel the tension in his body as it pressed against hers.

Kyle let out a ragged breath before he could stop himself and trying to stay as calm as possible, though God knows, he found himself thinking, the next time I get my hands on this Mikey guy, I will wreck him how dare he keep hurting her like he does, he found himself staring down at Sophia, his hands loosely gripping at her waist only to wind up raising one as soon as he saw more tears threatening to fall, his thumb rolling easily over soft skin as he caught the tear mid track. “C’mon, Sophia… Don’t cry so hard. You know what’ll happen.” he kept staring at her until she was pressing against him all over again, her face buried in his t shirt and his nose buried in the crown of her hair. His hands lowered down to her waist again, fingertips digging in carefully as he fought his quick temper and the urge to go find Mikey and kick the fucking shit out of him once and for all.

“Just sucks.. Tired of not bein’ enough.” she muttered the words softly against his chest and Kyle heard them. He couldn’t keep fighting this, whatever he’d been feeling for Sophia. He’d spent years literally trying to deny and bury it deep down, but hearing her say that just caught him in a weak moment.

Every moment with her is a weak one, O’Reilly, face it. You love her. Always have. The thought was there and gnawing at him.

He sighed against the crown of her hair and a hand ghosted up from where it rested on her waist, curling beneath her chin and forcing her to look up at him despite the fact that he hated seeing her cry. He barely held back the quiet growl of frustration over it and then he sighed, shaking his head. “You’re more than enough, babe.”

Every last ounce of fight it off that Kyle O’Reilly possessed turned into fuck fighting it anymore and he had Sophia backed against a cold brick wall, pressing into her, leaning down ever so slightly, his lips inching dangerously towards hers, his repeat of what he’d said seconds before almost a snarl as his fingertips dug into her sides and he tried to fight the surge of anger he felt at Mikey, continuing to make her feel this way time and time again and just the sudden surge of raw passion he felt flooding him that wouldn’t be hidden tonight of all nights as far as Sophia was concerned. His mouth crashed against her mouth and her eyes popped open wide as a quiet gasp leaked slowly from her lips, only to be quickly captured and swallowed by his own.

Sophia’s hands were resting palm down against his shirt, but as soon as it seemed to sink in what was happening, her fingers tangled in the fabric and her other hand raised, dragging through his hair, tangling in the curls at the nape of his neck, clinging to his taller frame as if she were drowning and only he could save her. “Oh.Oh.” she sighed against his mouth as her tongue darted out, tracing his lips, then his teeth, darting between them to tangle with his tongue all over again.

Was this really happening?

It all felt like a dream.

One of her deepest hidden ones, at that. The thought bubbled to the surface just as the kiss broke and Kyle’s hand left her hip to drag slowly through his hair as he let out a long and slow, very shaky breath and just… stared.

Neither of them were really saying anything, both wide eyed and shocked. The ringing of Sophia’s cell phone shattered the heavy silence between them and Sophia glanced down at it, shaking her head sadly. “And there’s the excuse.”

Kyle reached out, pinning her against the wall all over again, his hand going down to her hand, untangling the Galaxy from it, slipping it into the pocket of his leather jacket as he crashed his lips against her mouth all over again, an almost animal groan escaping the second her lips parted and swallowed the sound. The blunt of his teeth scraped and tugged at her lower lip until she felt it swelling at the contact and he breathed out the firm command against her mouth, “Don’t answer it. Fuck him for not treating you like a queen, babe.”

Rather than argue, Sophia nodded, surrendering to another round of intense, groping kisses. When she rubbed against Kyle almost needy, Kyle shivered all over and hauled her up into his arms. “I’m gonna take you home, okay? It’s late and too cold out.”

“Your place… Right?” Sophia purred against his neck. Kyle’s fingers dug into her body just so he didn’t drop her and he coughed to clear his throat, muttering huskily, “If that’s what you want, Sophia.”

“Please? I… I don’t wanna be alone tonight.” Sophia sighed, shaking her head at herself as she started to look down at the ground.

“You weren’t going to be either way.” Kyle answered honestly as he navigated the parking lot, stopping at the passenger side of his SUV to unlock it, opening the door and sitting her into the passenger seat.

The club she’d been waiting on Mikey to show up at was starting to prepare for last call. Clubgoers were making their way past, laughing and talking, stumbling drunkenly towards their cars and it all just fell away as Kyle stepped between Sophia’s legs, leaning in, conquering her mouth in a hungry kiss all over again. The kiss turned into something much more intense.

It all started when Sophia’s hand strayed, lingering with uncertainty at the hem of Kyle’s black tee shirt, fingertips trailing real slow over his abdomen after disappearing beneath. Kyle’s fingers trailed over Sophia’s bare thigh, tracing lazy patterns into her soft skin and raising goosebumps with each and every single little touch.  Her lashes fluttered against his face and he bit back another quiet growl, hands raising, caressing her cheeks as he stared down into her eyes. She wasn’t crying anymore, but her mascara had smeared, making inky tear treks down her cheeks and the more Kyle looked at them, the more he wanted to kick Mikey’s ass.

… Or, you could do what you really want to do… the thought popped in and rather than shove it out, Kyle found himself in a position for once where he couldn’t. She’d kissed him back. She was still kissing him, still touching. Clinging to him. Looking up at him with those big green eyes as if she were entranced. The look in her eyes was what lead to his ultimate and total undoing.

“Fuck. I need you.” Kyle muttered the words against her neck as his mouth broke from her lips and lazily trailed down, teeth nipping here and there, careful, but also careless. He wanted to leave her all marked up. He wanted it known she belonged to someone from here out. Sophia came alive in his arms, rubbing against him, almost desperate for more, to be closer. The little bit of friction she was getting just wasn’t enough. She didn’t care enough to stop what was happening because it was starting to sink in… She’d wanted this to happen.

Probably for a much longer time than she’d ever be able to put to words.

Before she could stop herself or be bothered to show restraint, she was pulling at his shirt, pulling him halfway into the cab of the SUV and he was chuckling, a hand resting palm down on the dash as his other hand continued to squeeze and caress her bare thigh. When she bucked herself against him, rubbing and making sure that body contact between them lingered, Kyle’s hands went straight to her hips and he scooted her towards him in the seat. She rocked against him all over again and gave the soft breathy response against his mouth, “Need you too. Fuck.. Kyle just… Make me forget? Please?”

“Oh, I’m gonna make sure you forget.” Kyle’s eyes locked on Sophia and he licked his lips hungrily, nodding to the backseat of the SUV, his eyes darting back to her as he leaned in and his hands gripped her thighs again, squeezing harder. “Get in the backseat, babe. C’mon. Let me take care of you, hm?” his voice a thick and lazy whisper against her skin as he met her gaze.

Sophia nipped at his lower lip, pulling his mouth down against her own all over again as she muttered quietly, “Fuck me.” and if she didn’t want him so badly, need him so much… She’d almost want to crawl into a hole and die at how pathetic she had to seem to him. She’d definitely be freaking out because this… Crossed so many lines.

She could wind up losing him if this backfired. The thought scared the living hell out of her and gave her pause for just a split second before being shoved out of her head in favor of just… Giving in. Because giving in felt so much fucking better tonight.

She managed to pull herself away from him and in a hurry, bumping her head on the ceiling of the SUV in her haste, she made her way over the console and into the backseat. Once she was settled in, Kyle shut the passenger door in a hurry, opening the back one, climbing into the seat, wasting no time in pulling her into his lap. When they smacked faces as they both went in for a kiss at the same time, Kyle swore quietly, pulling away for a second, wincing through shared laughter. “Are you okay?” Sophia asked, eyeing him in concern. Kyle laughed it off and went in for another kiss while leaning into her so that she had to lay back against the seat, settling himself over her carefully, swearing quietly when his foot immediately butted right up against the door and he saw her head about to hit the armrest on her side of the long bench seat when she slid up just a little more to hopefully give him room.

He took a deep breath, preparing to lean down, his hand against the back of the seat and his other hand gripping the seat beside her head. She hissed and bit her lip with a pained look in her eye and Kyle happened to look down and realize that long red locks were trapped beneath his hand and naturally, he’d accidentally given a hard tug. “Fuck.” he chuckled as he removed his hand and let her move her hair, dipping his head down again, his teeth hooking on her lower lip and tugging as he pulled her into a slow and deep kiss.

“Car sex looks so easy in the movies.” Sophie laughed into the kiss as she rubbed against him and almost kicked the window when trying to wrap her legs around his hips to pull him down on top of her completely. Kyle was taking a few seconds to get himself back under control, to think.

Just as his hand disappeared under the front of her crop top and he was squeezing and kneading her breasts in his hand with her rubbing herself against him harder and with more urgency as she rose up, meeting his lips in a deep and needy, almost bruising kiss, there was a loud knock at the window and the two shared a moment’s panicked look. Whoever knocked must have walked away, because when Kyle rose up, peered through the glass, no one was there. It still only further drove home the point that maybe whatever was going to happen needed to happen behind closed doors. Where he could take his time with her. Show her how good it could be with the right man. A real man.

Kyle leaned down, pressing his forehead against hers. “Maybe that’s a sign we need to move this to my place? If you..” before he could finish or ask, Sophia’s fingertip was pressing against his lips, silencing any doubt and the flow of his words as she nodded and leaned up, meeting his mouth, whispering into it, their lips brushing with each word she spoke in response, “God yes. I want to. I meant it, Kyle. I… I want you to make me forget about everything but you.”

Kyle gave a cocky smirk and chuckled quietly, teeth tugging at her lower lip as he mumbled back, “That can definitely be arranged, babe. You know I’m going to take care of you.. Right?” his tone getting firmer as he locked eyes with her, biting his lip, letting his eyes roam over her slowly as they rose to sit up. He leaned in closer, fingertip resting on a kiss-swollen lower lip and asked in that same firm tone, “I asked you a question, babe.”

Sophia swallowed hard, a long sigh leaving her lips accompanied by a whine when just as Kyle’s mouth brushed right against her own as he spoke, he backed up ever so slightly, almost as if he were teasing. When he took that tone with her, she couldn’t help but whimper quietly and try to get her mouth and brain working in tandem again as opposed to working against one another as she stared at him helplessly.

She grazed her teeth softly against his fingertip and he gave a quiet warning growl, brown eyes fixed on her unwavering, waiting on an answer. “You always take care of me, Kyle. Even when maybe I don’t deserve it.” Sophia finally managed to answer, leaning in closer, brushing her lips against his as she answered. The only difference this time was that when she did it and went to back away and tease him back, Kyle’s fingers caught on her chin, cupping and he pulled her mouth right back in hungrily, quiet growls and groans disappearing into the dizzying and bruising kiss he gave.

When it broke, he rested his forehead against hers and muttered lazily, “We need to get going. Before I change my mind and just show you how much I want to take care of you tonight right here and right now. We’ve already almost been interrupted once.” as he slowly backed away, a hand on the door handle, opening it and removing himself from the backseat. Sophia pouted for a second before clumsily making the climb from the backseat to the passenger seat.

The second Kyle was in the driver seat again, his hand was slipping over the console, his fingers dancing lazily over her bare thigh as he muttered to himself about her short little sundresses and how tempting they’d always been. Raising one of her hands to his lips to brush them against her knuckles. Anything he could do to just… Touch… He was going to do it.

Might as well just let it all out, Kyle thought to himself, because if I have my way about things, tonight is going to be the night she finally sees -and feels because God help me, she is going to feel it when I’m done with her, how much I love and care about her.

“Tempting, huh?” Sophia blinked at his words, at the husky and heavy tone in his voice right now that had her clenching her thighs tighter and tighter with each second that passed and at the fact that one look into those deep brown eyes of his was enough to reveal the almost primal desire burning within. She’d never even realized he felt that way, hell… She’d never once thought she might even have half a chance and so she’d settled for just being best friends. Buried her little crush deep down. So deep that until tonight, when he kissed her the way he did, she’d almost successfully forgotten all about it.

But now that he’d kissed her, it was all she could think about again.

At a red light less than a block away from the nightclub, Sophia decided that if he were going to act on it, so was she. She leaned in over the console, nuzzling against his neck, slowly trailing her lips down the side of it. Kyle’s hand tightened on the wheel and on her thigh, fingertips digging deep into soft skin; almost bruising. He cleared his throat and gave a dark chuckle, catching hold of her hand and lowering it to his lap. “Do you feel what you’re doing to me?”

Sophia’s thighs tightened and she gave a quiet whimper, daring to ghost her palm over the bulge strained against his favorite jeans and leaning in, she nipped at his earlobe as she mumbled softly, “Oh.. Mmm..” and giggled when Kyle bucked against her wandering hand, giving her a firm look of warning before leaning in, crashing his mouth against her mouth hungrily and practically growling into another brief and bruising kiss, “You’re in for it now, Sophia.”

“Oh I am, am I?”  Sophia hummed against his mouth, her tongue tangling with his after briefly tracing over his teeth and smiling into the kiss, more than a little smug. This.. Whatever was happening between the two of them right now.

This felt good. This felt right and real.

The light went green and Kyle sped off, only thinking about getting them to his place. He had to have her. He had to make sure that by the end of tonight she knew exactly where she stood in his eyes. Where she’d always stood. Tonight, Kyle O’Reilly fully intended to make her his at last. He’d stop at literally nothing to make sure she knew she was wanted, needed and loved and she always had been; always would be.

Minutes seemed to stretch to hours but finally, after about fifteen, they were pulling to a stop in the parking spot designated for Kyle’s SUV outside of his apartment building and he was killing the engine, reaching out as soon as he heard the soft clink that signified her seat belt was unfastened. He pulled her over the console, helping her into his lap, bucking himself up into her almost as soon as she was settled in his lap. Sophia hissed and moaned, rubbing right against him, her mouth all over his neck until he gripped her jawline and tugged it back up to his own mouth. “Ah ah. My mouth’s up here, babe.” Kyle grunted breathlessly as he broke the kiss to pull away and stare at her, flashing a playful smirk when she whined and pouted at him breaking the kiss.

Sophia grabbed at his jaw, pulling his mouth against her own, her teeth clenching at his lip. “Did I say stop?”

“No, you didn’t.” Kyle muttered, groaning as she started to really press down against the way he strained at his jeans, hips rocking harder and faster. When he felt her soaking through her panties, he let out several shaky breaths and his hands dug into her ass as he rocked himself up into her and nodded to the door that lead to his apartment. “I think, babe..” he practically hummed the words against her neck as he buried his lips there, sucking hard, leaving a mark behind, “We need to move this inside.”

“Y-yeah.” Sophia managed to mumble softly against his neck as her lips danced over his pulse making her giggle as she felt the shiver when it raced through his body. She moaned when he bucked into her harder, his fingertips digging into her ass even deeper. Without another word, Kyle was opening the door to his SUV and stepping out, not even bothering to untangle her from his body. Sophia  clung to him, her legs circling his waist, squeezing to hold herself up. Her back met the door of the apartment with a soft smack and she grimaced against the cold but quickly focused on Kyle… The way his hands were wandering even more; bolder while also managing to dig around and find his apartment key. He kicked the door open with his foot, sitting her down on the sturdy kitchen table as he shed his jacket and dropped his keys on the shelf beside the door. This entire time, the distance between them, the lack of him… Pressing against her, touching her, kissing her.. It had her pouting and watching him intently, biting her lip as she did so. Kyle looked up from taking off his boots and he bit his lip, stepping between her parted legs as he rubbed his chin in thought.

“I believe we were right about…” he leaned in slow; too slow for her liking because she was meeting him eagerly to mutter soft against his mouth, “Yeah?”

“Here.” Kyle’s hand disappeared beneath the hem of her dress and he nipped at any bare skin available to him as his palm cupped her core, rubbing hard, a ragged hiss being swallowed by the meeting of their mouths when he realized just how soaked she was already. “Dripping already, babe? I bet he never did this… Did he?” Kyle’s hand started to rub faster, and as she managed to moan out the word no while rocking her hips against his hand faster in response to each rub, he crashed his mouth against her mouth and promised firmly, “Gonna make you forget everything about him, babe. I promise you that.”

“Kyle, please.. Need you now.” the words left her mouth in a desperate and loud whimper as she tried to rub her entire body against his own, starved for the friction, his touch. His everything, if she had to be totally honest.

Mikey wasn’t affectionate at all for the most part. And he never bothered with all the teasing and marking her up. As long as he got off, Sophia found herself thinking bitterly, he didn’t care how good I felt and god this is so… different. Kyle has barely done anything and all he’d have to do is tell me and I’m pretty sure I’d cum… She’d never seen this side of her best friend before and seeing it now was definitely something to think about. She’d been missing out on all of this and… Settling.

After tonight, Sophia thought to herself as she tugged frantically at Kyle’s tee shirt only to have him lower her hand and give her a scolding look as he slowly shook his head, I am all Kyle’s. I can’t just pretend this didn’t happen -or that I didn’t want it to happen deep down, because I did and I do and I want him.

Her mind kicked into overdrive, her touches got needier, more frantic. Kyle picked up on it and he stopped, tilting her chin, making her look him in the eye. Lust blown green eyes locked on him and she bit her lip, moving herself closer to him as Kyle smirked down at her and allowed it. His fingers brushed aside a drenched cotton barrier before ultimately deciding that barrier was just in his way and tearing them off, tossing them onto the floor and as soon as his fingers drifted lazily over her warmth he bit his lip and eyed her up, leaning into her heavily enough that she was almost laying back on the table. “Fuck.”

The sound of her cell phone ringing nearby didn’t fully register the first two or three times that it did. By the time it started to ring again, Kyle gave it a glare and muttered against her neck while burying his fingers deep into her heat, scissoring and massaging, “Answer the phone.”

Sophia met his firm gaze with a puzzled one of her own. Why the hell did he seem like he was encouraging her to answer a call from Mikey, who from this moment forward, she was referring to as her past? And then, she caught sight of the ambery glow in his eyes as he fixed them up on her. “Sophia.” his tone was firm again. Serious. Like he had something to prove. Like he was about to tease the hell out of her and give her even more to think about.

Kyle licked his lips, sinking down to his knees between her widely parted legs, an almost primal growl against her skin as he kissed up the inside of her thigh and his fingers continued to slowly fuck in and out of her dripping heat. “I said.. Answer the phone. I dare you, Sophia. C’mon.” his mouth migrated higher up her thighs.

For about two minutes, the phone stopped ringing.Sophia let out a ragged breath as his thick tongue worked slowly over her slit, circling her clit and then moving back down slowly, carefully before repeating the entire thing over again and sending shivers through her body. His fingers movements slowed drastically and his tongue ghosted between her folds, teasing at entry. The phone started to ring all over again and Kyle muttered hoarse against her cunt, “Go ahead, babe.. Answer the phone. Answer or I’ll stop.”

Sophia definitely didn’t want him to stop, so she reached out, removing her fingers from the edge of the table where she’d been gripping to do so, fumbling around until she found the damned irritation.

Just as she picked it up, breathless, to hear Mikey swearing on the other end about her not being at her place and demanding to know what was going on, Kyle’s tongue slipped deeper into her core, joining his fingers in their delicious slow and steady torment. “Fuck..”

“Sophia? What the fuck is going on?” Mikey glared at the phone in his hand as he paced the hallway outside Sophia’s apartment. He banged on the door again, but no answer. Surely she’s here, he thought to himself, she always comes straight home.

Kyle’s mouth curved upward in a smirk and he muttered against her pelvic mound, “Go on, babe.. Tell him what’s going on.” as his teeth scraped against her skin, raising goosebumps all over her body and making her moan all over again. Her other hand left the table and tangled in the crown of Kyle’s head, tugging.

“I’m.. Ah, fuck.. Kyle. Mmm..” Sophia whimpered as Kyle’s tongue rolled lazily and he reached up, tilting her hips, rocking them against his mouth, growling at the way her juices dripped just enough to give him a little bit of a taste already.

“What the fuck?” Mikey was angrier now, swearing. “What the fuck are you doing, huh? Is this because I was runnin late?”

Kyle heard the second her soon to be ex started to explode and rant and he chuckled against Sophia’s skin, muttering in a calm and firm tone, “I bet he couldn’t make you come undone like this. I bet he didn’t even try. You wanna let go for me so bad, don’t you? I know you’re close. I can taste you already. Not yet. Not until I tell you so.”  

“Shit.” Sophia was rocking her own hips against Kyle’s mouth now, eagerly, dangerously close to getting off. “Faster, Kyle… Please.” she begged breathlessly and when Kyle happily obliged for a few seconds, she tensed. She could feel her orgasm beginning to grow to an almost dizzying height. Her breath caught in her throat.

“I fuckin knew you and that Kyle guy were closer than friends.” Mikey was beyond livid now, Sophia could hear him punching at the wall in the background. Kyle muttered lazily against her cunt, “Go on, babe. Tell him. Tell him everything.” as his tongue and fingers slowed, allowing her to catch her breath and back away from the orgasm threatening to shatter through at any second. Sophia shivered and whined, trying to rock her hips against his mouth a little more, desperate for friction and she gave this soft little laugh. “I’d say you’re wrong but.. Fuck… Kyle, please… Oh yeah, right there.. Fuck.” she exhaled sharply, continuing to address Mikey, “You’re not wrong. At least Kyle bothers to get me off.”

“Okay, babe… You’ve earned it. You can let go for me now. C’mon.. I’m dying to really taste you. Fuck..” Kyle breathed against her skin, “I am going to enjoy licking you clean.” and Sophia’s orgasm shattered through, the phone in her hand dropping with a noisy thud against the hard wooden tabletop, her other hand tangling in Kyle’s hair even more as she rocked her hips harder and faster against his face at his urging. Kyle’s sloppy lapping sounds were enough to draw a chorus of needy moans from her and as she rode out her orgasm against his willing mouth, Kyle glanced up, watching her come undone the way she was, an almost animalistic growl coming at the sight of her breathless and almost sweating, her teeth clenching at her lip as she gripped at the table and anything else she could get her hands on.

The noise of dial tone had Kyle raising up from between her legs, leaning down to conquer her mouth in a heated kiss, his hands all over her as she went straight for his tee shirt. He lowered her hands, pulling it off for himself, tossing it onto the floor. When she glanced down, he tilted her chin to make her look back up.

“So.fucking. Beautiful.” he deepened the kiss as he tugged down his jeans and underwear, letting them hit the floor, kicking them free at the ankles. He leaned down, scooping her towards him, stepping away from the table and gently tossing her onto his sofa, following her body down, settling above her, positioned between her legs to keep them spread. He gazed down at her, a finger pressed to his lips and this almost wicked gleam in lust darkened brown eyes. “Mine now. All mine.” he growled into her mouth as he leaned down, greedily stealing another deep kiss and making her breath catch as he did so. She clung to his body, rubbing against him as she whimpered and whined and begged aloud for it, the sounds of her begging and their gasping panting breaths filling the room and lingering in the air.

“All yours, Kyle.” Sophia gasped out as she felt his length trailing right up her slit, the tip teasing at entry and she looked up at him, trying to pull him down against her and he obliged. As his cock sank in deeper, he went still, letting her get used to being filled up and stretched out.

“Are you good?” Kyle asked as he finished trailing lazy and slow kisses all over her face and neck before settling his lips against her mouth.

“Kyle, please. Now.” Sophia begged in a whimper, rocking her hips into him, only to pout when Kyle’s hands caught hold of her hips, holding them still. And then he started to fuck into her, slow and deep and hard, the snap of his hips as they connected with her body echoing off the other wise quiet room.

Her head fell back and she met each drive into her cunt with a euphoric thrust of her own hips and Kyle groaned, fingers digging into her hips as he groaned into her skin “You take me so well. Damn. I’m going to fucking love burying my cock deep inside you any time you want me. Fuck. I’m addicted.” and continued to slam into her with slow and deep and steady thrusts.

Sophia gasped as he bottomed out, tilted her hips and started to hit a spot that had her knees trembling and her breath catching in her throat. “Kyle, fuck, baby, please… Don’t stop.” she begged, clinging to his body as another orgasm started to build to an almost dizzying intensity, sending a dull throb racing through her sex because he’d been guiding her close to the edge only to drive her away from it all night.

It didn’t appear to be a pattern changing anytime soon because even now, at the feel of her body tensing and her walls vising his cock, Kyle was slowing to an almost stop, lips dragging over every patch of skin he could get them on, touching her all over, chuckling into her skin as he muttered quietly, “Not yet, babe.”

“Kyle, please… Need.. Fuck.” Sophia moaned against his chest as her nails dug lightly into his back. Kyle groaned, nipping hungrily at her collarbone, the feel of her nails against his skin driving him dangerously close to just pounding her.

“You need what, hm? Use your words. Tell me what you need, babe.” Kyle stared down at her, catching his breath. Words couldn’t even begin to express just how beautiful she was right now, all pinned beneath him, whimpering and moaning and clinging to him. He raised a hand, caressing her cheek and smoothing her hair back out of her eyes, brushing his lips right against her lips as he started all over again, fucking into her slowly. As deep as he could. Making sure she felt every single inch.

Sophia shivered and cried out, trying to speed up the pace. Kyle’s hand lowered, gripping her hips to hold them still. “I told you to use your words. Tell me what you need.”

“You.” Sophia moaned out, adding in a quieter whimper, “Harder and faster.” and Kyle chuckled, deepening the kiss. “See? Wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“No.” the word lingered as Kyle started to fuck into her even harder and just a little faster. He trailed his tongue along the outer edge of her ear and mumbled against it, “Tell me something, babe?”

“Yeah?”

“Did he ever… even once… Ask you what you wanted?”

The shake of her head had him shaking his own and parting her lips with his tongue as he asked quietly, “Do you wanna cum? Because I fucking love the way you tighten around my cock, fuck.”

“Please?” Sophia managed to whimper as her lips latched onto his collarbone, sucking, leaving another big mark behind and making Kyle smirk as he stared down at the reddish purple mark on his skin when it formed and her mouth pulled away. “That’s it, babe. Mark me. Let me wear it with pride.”

The marks she left behind on him seemed to be just enough to push him; right over the edge he went, pounding away at her, harder and deeper. He sped up and Sophia’s whimpers and moans shattered the almost silence, making Kyle smirk down at her, nuzzling against her soft skin as he muttered quietly, “C’mon. You know what I want.”

Her orgasm shattered through her and Kyle’s fingers dug into her sides as he fucked her through it, groaning and growling aloud as he felt her absolutely coating him. “So wet. Mmm.” he muttered against her skin, the soft smack of little kisses peppered across it filling the air as she cried out his name. He had to slow down and he almost didn’t in time. Sophia’s legs clenched at his sides and she begged quietly, “Kyle, I want… Mmm.”

“Yeah, babe?” he hummed against her skin, staring at her, waiting on her to finish. “What do you want? Use your words.” he slowed down his thrusts, keeping them deep, bottoming out a time or two and making her whimper as she pulled his mouth against her own to mutter into it quietly, “Wanna feel you.”

“Oh you do, hm?” Kyle muttered, fixing lust blown brown eyes on Sophia as he started to pound away at her a little faster, biting his lip, focused on making sure that she absolutely felt every single inch. And the way she drove him crazy, how much he loved her and how he wanted to be her man. “If that’s what you want.” he breathed out against her mouth, the words swallowed up in a slow and deep and almost bruising needy kiss as she begged again to feel him.

Kyle’s orgasm shattered through him and he dug his fingers into her hips again, rocking them into him harder and faster, growling and groaning her name as he emptied inside her, pulling her into a kiss as he came undone and fucked through his orgasm. “Feels so good. So good.. Sophia.. Mmm.” he muttered as he started to slow down, dance his lips all over her bare skin and finally sank to the couch behind her, pulling her so that she was partially draped over him, his arms going around her and his nose pressing into the crown of her hair as he lie there, holding her. He tilted her chin up and she yawned, raising up to press her lips against his. “Not moving. Couldn’t if I wanted to.” she gave a tender and almost shy smile as he chuckled and asked quietly, “Yeah? Why’s that?”

“That was… Fuck… that was amazing. I’m not used to being this sore.”

“Get used to it.” Kyle muttered, trailing his tongue over her lips as he kissed her again and yawned himself. The sunlight was starting to peek through the living room window and he pressed a kiss against her forehead. “You wanna move this to bed? Maybe we can get some sleep..”

“If you’re carrying me. I truly meant it when I said I could not move, baby.” Sophia flirted, fixing an adoring gaze on Kyle as he rose to sit, pulling her into his lap, then standing, carrying her down the hall wrapped around his body….

[fox-moblin]

I'm to afraid to come off anon, but if you feel like it I think Legend being sick or something would be interesting I guess? Thank you either way

Alright ya’ll - slowly but surely I’m getting through these requests. :>

****

****

“Easy, easy…”

“Fu…fuck…”

Legend stumbles, the arm not clutching Warriors for support curled around his stomach.  Warriors holds him upright, supporting him as the two of them slowly make their way across the sands.  Legend clenches his eyes closed.

“Warriors… I’m not… I’m…”  he trails off, clamping his mouth shut as a wave of dizziness overtakes him.  Warriors curses, pulling Legend up as he pitches forward.  

“Hey!”  He hefts Legend up from under his arm pits.  “Stay with me, okay!  We gotta meet up with the others; buck up!”  

Legend’s head lolls and he mumbles some sort of profanity under his breath.  Warriors swallows.  

“Damn…” he mutters, looking around.  The land round them is vast, giant sand dunes stretching out towards the horizon.  He can’t see an end,  his only guide being the sun, which has slowly begun to move lower in the sky.  

West, he thinks, shielding his eyes.  They have to go west.  He glances down at Legend, who’s head is bowed low.  He’s shaking, gritting his teeth as he fights to stay standing, and Warriors feels his heart clench seeing his friend so weak.  He huffs.  The sun is setting; it’s going to grow cold soon, a sharp contrast to the heat that’s been plaguing them for the last few hours.  Both of them are sunburned despite their best efforts to stay covered, their cheeks and noses and the tips of their ears a rosy red, and Legend, for whatever reason, has taken the brunt of the sun’s wrath, heat sickness slowly sinking its claws into his body.  Warriors pulls him close, trying to shield him from the sun the best he can.  Legend presses against him, groaning into his chest.  

“W…we gotta keep moving…”  

“We have to get you to shelter… and get you some water.”

“…’m fine…”  

Legend lifts his head weakly and Warriors can see the gleam of sweat on his forehead and the confusion in his eyes.  He sighs.  

“C’mon.”

***********

They walk for another hour, their progress growing ever slower as Legend succumbs further and further to the heat.  Despite Warriors’ hope that the setting sun would cool the world at least a little, they’ve not felt the effects of it yet as it hangs low in the sky.  For at least the fifth time that day, Warriors curses Wild’s world; the endless desert is killing them.  They’ve already escaped two sandstorms and some sort of giant sand fish, and Warriors is starting to think their luck is running out.  He’s rationed what little water they have, giving most of it Legend, but their canteens have grown light and anxiety has begun to creep in, sending chills down his back despite the haze surrounding them.  He lets out a shaky breath, tightening his grip on Legend’s tunic, and tries to stay calm.  He’s a soldier; he can handle this.  

Next to him, Legend groans.  

“H..hey… I think… I think ‘m gonna-“

He pitches forward and Warriors has to drop to his knees to catch Legend as he flops like a rag doll into his arms.  He lies there, motionless, and Warriors stares at him in shock.  

“Legend?”  He shakes his shoulder.  “Hey… hey, Legend, come on!”  

He flips Legend over, pulling him to his chest, and pats his cheek, warm and feverish beneath his palm.  Legend doesn’t respond, his head rolling to the side when Warriors touches him.  Beneath his eyelids, his eyes move with whatever dream plagues him.  Warriors takes a breath in through his nose and tries to stay calm.  

Legend’s alive, for now.  

Hylia be damned, he’s gonna keep it that way.  

He lifts Legend, hands supporting him under his knees and shoulders, and begins to walk.  Legend’s head flops back, his mouth hanging open, and his chest shudders with each breath.  Warriors thanks whatever goddess is looking out for him, because it’s certainly not Hylia’s holy ass, for keeping the heat from infecting him as well.  The last thing Legend needs if for Warriors to pass out as well.  

Like a cruel joke, Hylia, with all her great power, brings night quickly and, with it, a cold that could rival the icy peaks of the Mt. Lanayru of Wild’s world.  Warriors shivers, his teeth chattering as he slugs his way across the dunes, as harsh winds sweep over him, kicking up the sands so that they dance and swirl around him.  If he’d been anywhere else, without his friend slowly dying in his arms, he might have thought it beautiful, but in the moment all he can do is scream in frustration and crouch low, bending over Legend’s limp form.  Legend is shaking again, too weak to fight the cold on his own.  Warriors rips his scarf from his own shoulders and wraps it around Legends, tucking the fabric under his chin.  The blue looks almost silver in the cold light of the moon, as pale as Legend’s ashen skin.  Warriors holds him close and looks out over the desert before them.

They’re perched on a tall dune and, without any clouds to block the moon’s light, Warriors can see rather far.  

The cliffs that have sat on the horizon all day are still there, closer than before.  Warriors closes his eyes.  

They could offer some shelter.  

They could offer some hope.        

Warriors opens his eyes and glances down at Legend.  His friend shudders.  

He wants to hope.  

He’ll have to move fast.  The moon is still rising; the coldest parts of the night have yet to come.  If he can make it to shelter before they come, Legend might have a chance.  

He breathes deeply, letting the air out and watching his breath puff like a cloud in front of him, and then looks down the length of the slope before him.  

If anything, Wild would be very proud of what he’s about to do.  

Legend would be too, he thinks, if he were awake to witness it in all its undignified glory.  

Warriors steals himself, sends a prayer to the goddesses, clutches Legend close, and leaps off the dune.

His feet hit the sloping sand with a force that almost sends him tumbling forward and he thinks, for a moment, that maybe he should have just sat on a shield and slid down.  He manages to catch himself and then he’s running and stumbling his way down the dune as the loose sands around him behind to slide downward as well.  In the tiny part of his mind that isn’t all panic and screeched profanities, he imagines that he probably looks very stupid.  

He doesn’t realize he’s screaming until he hits the bottom and almost crashes into a cactus.  He rolls forward, curling over Legend, and doing some sort of front flip that would probably be rather impressive if not for the fact that he lands painfully on his back, the wind knocked out him.

He wants to lay there until his head stops spinning and he can breathe normally again, but Legend whimpers pitifully from where he’s flopped like a piece of wet grass across Warriors’ chest and Warriors forces himself to his feet, grunting as he lifts Legend up again.  

Keep moving.  

Warriors marches on.  

**********

When he sees the light of a fire, Warriors sobs.  He doesn’t care about the fact that he probably looks like a wreck, face red and puckered, sand everywhere it shouldn’t be; he falls to his knees, thanking anyone and anything, before stumbling upright again and sprinting towards the light.  

It’s a pathway through the cliffs, the opening to a narrow cavern and, as he crests the small hill that leads out of the desert, Warriors almost starts to cry again.  An inn.  A horse stable.  He begins to make his way towards, trying to compose himself, and speaking in low tones to Legend, where he remains in Warriors’ arms, wrapped in his scarf.  

“You’re going to be okay.  I promise, you’re going to be okay.”

**********

Legend wakes with a jolt and a groan, bringing up a hand to press against his aching forehead.  His other hands is trapped beneath something and, when he tries to move it, whatever is holding it tightens its grip.  He’s lying on something soft and warm and, other than the monster of a headache he can feel coming on, he feels… rather okay.  

The lingering taste of a potion sits in his mouth and he smacks his lips.  He’s thirsty, but not desperately so.  

When he finally opens his eyes, blinking away sleep, it’s to the soft light of a lantern, hung somewhere to his right.  Above him, the light casts dancing shadows on the patterned walls of an inn, those found in Wild’s Hyrule.  Legend sighs softly.  

Safe.

To his left, something shifts, and he turns only to feel a lump building in his throat.  Warriors is sat next to him, curled over his bed, asleep.  Legend’s other hand is clutched between both of Warriors’ and his friend’s head is rested on Legend’s stomach.  Beneath it, spread out over the quilt that covers him, Legend is surprised to see Warriors treasured scarf.  Legend breathes and Warriors’ head moves with it.  

“Hey,”  Legend murmurs, trying to draw his hand away, but Warriors doesn’t respond, only clutching Legend’s hand tighter.  Legend tries again, but only sighs when the results remain the same.    

He’s tired; the rest of the inn is barely awake, the only movement coming from the inn keeper, who keeps glancing over with a fond smile.  Legend looks away and back at Warriors.  

In his sleep, his friend whimpers something and turns his head to bury his face deeper into the blankets and, subsequently, Legend’s abdomen.  Legend stares at him quietly, waiting, but Warriors only snores softly.  Legend hesitates.

“Oh, for Hylia’s sake,” he finally mutters and grips Warriors’ hands back.

*******

*******

Anyways.  Yeah.  

[queensofrap]

Cardi B in the March 2019 issue of Harper’s BAZAAR. QUEEN.

Cardi B Opens Up About Her "Rags to Riches" Cinderella Story

When Cardi B visits her favorite nail salon in the Bronx, she enters through a raggedy hallway covered with a rug emblazoned with the image of a $100 bill. The salon, which overlooks a bustling avenue of pizza shops, sports-gear superstores, and boutiques with weaves in 70 colors, is a temple to money, excess, and sexiness, symbolized in the application of nails that look like diamond-encrusted Buck knives. Portraits of two icons of pulchritude hang on the walls—namely, Marilyn Monroe and the very 2019 version of Marilyn: Cardi. 

With a posse that includes her dad, her half-sister, her half-brother, and two Drogosize bodyguards whose names I don’t catch but imagine to be Bulwark and Spear, Cardi, 26, heads toward a private side room. She surrenders her hands and feet to Jenny Bui, her sharp-tongued nail tech of more than half a decade, even back when she didn’t have the money to move out of this borough.

A tiny, makeup-less sprite in magenta leggings and a playful Moschino sweatshirt, Cardi talks about where she’s at today. On one hand, she says, “I feel like my life is a fairy tale and I’m a princess—rags to riches, people trying to sabotage,” she says. But she also complains fervently about being over the fairy-tale life and wanting peace and quiet. “Before, I cared about everything—relationship, gossip. Now I don’t feel like I have the time to please people,” she explains. “I don’t care about anything anymore—just my career and my kid.” What about money, the thing she raps about caring for quite a bit? “Well, I care about my career because of my money,” Cardi says, giving me a “c’mon, stupid” face.

“Before,” in this context, means before the tectonic shifts that have taken place in Cardi’s life in the past year: that she became a global superstar; relocated from New York to Atlanta to live with the charismatic rapper Offset, her new husband; gave birth to an unplanned but much loved daughter, Kulture Kiari, in July; then, five months later, after the drip-drip-drip of rumors about Offset’s infidelity, announced on Instagram that the marriage was over.

Today Cardi tells me that Offset has been to her apartment, but they haven’t seen each other and are “not really” talking, which is a bit hard to believe after she shows me videos of her gurgling baby on her iPhone and happens to scroll past a photo of Offset with a time stamp reading today. When I ask her if she’s getting back with Offset, I can almost hear her curious entourage, who have arranged themselves on sofas on the perimeter of the room, lean forward to catch the answer. For a moment, the only sound is Bui engaging in some hard-hat-level sanding and scraping of the star’s three-inch nails. Then Cardi says both, “I don’t think so,” and “Who knows? You never know, you can never tell,” neither of which is exactly a definitive answer.

I’ve interviewed dozens of pop stars, and Cardi, despite the massive entourage and the bear-claw-like nails, seems the most normal. She’s not the most down-to-earth or the most perfect, and she’s definitely not the least into social media, but she knows who she is and where she came from, and has somehow managed to keep expressing genuine emotions in the face of blockbuster success. And while her emotions can sometimes seem out of control, who hasn’t been there? We might not have screamed and thrown a shoe at Nicki Minaj at a Harper’s Bazaar event this past September (in retribution, Cardi has said, for various slights from Minaj, including liking a negative comment about her parenting skills), or allegedly ordered an attack on two female bartenders at a strip club visited by Offset (a judge issued orders of protection in December for the accusers), but we’ve all been mad as hell. And the unbearable cuteness and sexiness of Cardi, a raunchy L.O.L. doll, quickly erases those moments, drowning them in adorable high jinks.  

Leaving aside the fake nails and boob implants, with Cardi the artifice is in the artwork. In the space of less than a year, her music, videos, and fashion have made her a star of Lady Gaga proportions. She releases hit after hit; following last summer’s “I Like It,” the first Latin trap song to rise to number one on the Billboard Hot 100, with “Money,” a song, unsurprisingly, about money. In the video, she wears gorgeous clothes (she’s got “10 different looks and my looks all kill,” she raps), including outfits referencing Thierry Mugler, a gold bikini inspired by 1990s Lil’ Kim’s, and a custom Christian Cowan bodysuit fabricated from dozens of actual watches. She’s a post-Kardashian American superstar, a master of selfies, belfies, late-night Instagram videos, and all other manner of self-promotion— and also a creative genius. In 2019, no one needs to pick.  

Raised in the Bronx, Cardi was the naturally rebellious daughter of a Trinidadian-born cashier mother and a Dominican Republic–born cabdriver father. Her mother was strict. Nevertheless she joined the notorious Bloods gang, moved out of her mother’s home and in with a boyfriend and, finding herself broke, took a job as a cashier at a grocery store. To build a nest egg, she became a stripper. To build a bigger nest egg, she became a hot girl on social media. In 2015, she was cast as a lovable loudmouth on the VH1 reality show Love & Hip Hop: New York, then began releasing her own mixtapes. Her debut single, “Bodak Yellow,” went to the top of the charts, and it took her only one album to achieve escape velocity: Invasion of Privacy, arguably the best debut album from a female rapper since Lil’ Kim’s 1996 Hard Core. 

It’s an intense time for Cardi, now one of the biggest rappers—and one of the most famous women in the world—caring for an infant and dealing with a semi-estranged husband. Her answer is to be as real as she can. As much as she may imagine herself as a princess, she talks about admiring Meghan Markle for becoming a real one. “She must just be like, ‘Who am I?’” Cardi says, referring to Markle’s having to live by the royal family’s rules. Not being able to be herself would be the worst punishment for Cardi. 

Up and down, joy and pain, sunshine and rain—we’ve experienced all her days on her social media channels, where she posts close-up, emotional videos like an Instagram mime. She’s not your typical grasping celebrity, and doesn’t get off on endless adulation. “I work with somebody who gives me compliments all day, and I’m like, ‘Oh, my gosh, can you just stop?’” she says.   

Cardi’s fans have been so protective of her that when Offset broke in to her set at a concert, walking onstage with a $15,000 rolling floral display made of 2,000 roses that read TAKE ME BACK CARDI, they exploded on social media with anger over a man who refused to take a woman’s “no” at face value. (A backstage video showing one of Cardi’s reps escorting Offset to the stage did little to dim the outrage.)  

I ask if any family or friends influenced her decision to leave Offset. “No, I decided on my own,” she declares, looking me straight in the eye. “Nobody makes my decisions about my life but me.” Before they broke up, Offset begged Cardi to see a therapist. “I didn’t want to go to marriage counseling,” she says, in a firm tone of voice. “He suggested it, but it’s like, ‘I don’t want to go.’ There’s no counselor or nothing that could make me change my mind.”

Like many women who’ve experienced heartache and alleged infidelity, she seems caught between wanting to stay and leave. As Elizabeth Gilbert wrote in Eat Pray Love, Offset is “[her] lighthouse and [her] albatross in equal measure.” But Cardi also knows that dating new guys might be bizarre. “I have a kid, and I’m also famous,” she says quietly. “So I can’t just sleep with anybody. People talk. You know, if I date somebody in the industry, that’s another person in the industry. If I date somebody who is not in the industry, he might not understand my lifestyle.” Since the breakup, she’s been getting a ton of messages from guys but ignoring them. “It’s like, ‘Bro, why would you want to holler at me right away? You’re weird.’ If you think Imma automatically hop onto you after a marriage, that just means you think I’m a sleaze. And I’m not. I have a kid—I have to show an example.”

Bui, who has been listening intently to our interview while crafting Cardi’s nails, waves a hand and then interjects, “You’re so old-fashioned!”

“Jenny, just because I’m out there and very sexual doesn’t mean that I have to be whorish,” says Cardi. “I like to have sex. That doesn’t mean I have to have it with everybody.” She pauses, then adds, “Not that I judge women who want to have sex with the world.”

Done with her rant, Cardi turns her attention to her nails. “Damn, that’s sharp,” she says to Bui, whistling a little under her breath. “The polish will make them less sharp, right? Because we can’t forget about the baby.” Ignoring her, Bui says only, “Don’t move.”

Throughout our conversation, Cardi has been jiggling her leg up and down like a schoolkid. I ask her how long she’s had that habit. “Forever, and you know what? People always talk shit about it, but now it’s like, ‘Ha ha,’ because when I do it my daughter likes it,” she says.    

Despite the indelible image of Cardi breast-feeding in the “Money” video, wearing a black gown open at the bodice, she isn’t breast-feeding Kulture, whom she’s nicknamed KK. “It was too hard,” she explains. In fact, she spent most of the time after the baby was born in a haze of postpartum depression. “I thought I was going to avoid it,” Cardi says. “When I gave birth, the doctor told me about postpartum, and I was like, ‘Well, I’m doing good right now, I don’t think that’s going to happen.’ But out of nowhere, the world was heavy on my shoulders.”

Realizing that taking KK with her on the tour bus was unrealistic but unable to bear leaving her at home, Cardi dropped out of a lucrative tour with Bruno Mars. She started feeling better a couple of months after the baby was born, she says, and her mother has been helping out; Cardi hasn’t hired professional help because she isn’t sure she can trust anyone outside her family.

As a new mom, Cardi is still experiencing aches and pains. “For some reason, I still don’t feel like my body’s the same,” she says. “I feel like I don’t have my balance right yet. When it comes to heels, I’m not as good at walking anymore. I feel like I’m holding a weight on me. I don’t know why because I’m skinnier than I’ve ever been. But there’s an energy I haven’t gotten back yet that I had before I was pregnant. It’s just the weirdest thing.”

The baby is starting to help Cardi balance her emotions, though. “Sometimes I’ll see something online and it’ll piss me off, and then my baby will start crying or something, and it’s like, ‘You know what? I’ve got to deal with the milk. Forget this.’” She’s thinking about pulling back a little from social media. “I’ve noticed that every time you respond, you just make things worse, so I’m over it. I’m just over it. I really don’t need it, and sometimes it just brings chaos to my brain.” She adds, “I can stay off social media. I’ve been trying.” For months after KK was born, Cardi didn’t put pictures of her on social media, and certainly didn’t sell any to the tabloids. She says Offset wanted to put a picture up, but she was unsure.  

“As soon as she was born, one month in he was like, ‘She’s so beautiful. Watch how people gonna go crazy.’ ’Cause a lot of people were saying mean stuff, like that we don’t post her because she’s ugly. He was like, ‘I’m about to post my baby right now.’ But then we were very concerned because we were getting a lot of threats, so he said, ‘The world don’t even deserve to see her.’” Eventually Cardi wanted to put a photo up because “it’s really annoying and we don’t have a life. We have to hide her all the time. I can’t go to L.A. or Miami and walk down the beach with my baby. I want to go shopping with my baby. I want to take a stroll with my baby. Sometimes I feel bad for her because all she knows is the house.” But can’t you put on a baseball cap? I ask. Will people still recognize you? “Yeah,” she says. “It’s my nose.” 

Bui applies a final coat of purple paint on Cardi’s nails—a brief discussion ensues about whether the shade is the exact “baby purple” Cardi has requested—and then she talks about needing to get home to go to sleep. “I’ve got a big meeting in the morning in Boston,” Cardi says, nodding slowly. “Lots of money in Boston.” She begins horsing around with her six-year-old half-brother, ribbing him for being rebellious the way she used to be. “He’s a child of the corn!” she wails. “He’s just like me.” (Her half-sister adds, “Like you, sharp but sweet.”) Bui says she thought that when Cardi hit it big, she wouldn’t see her in the salon again. “I told her, ‘You’re going to forget about me,’ ” Bui says. “And she said, ‘Never.’”

[loridrabbles]

Imprisoned | Dogma x Reader (Part 9)

This is a lemon. We gotta use the citrus scale again.

Dogma and the reader make up for lost time. Reupload because it got taken down ny tumblr. Thanks tumblr.

     Over time, (y/n) wounds healed. Slowly, but with Dogma's tentative care, the treatment from Kix, and time, the infection was kept at bay and her once open, bleeding flesh, was now new and pink, though still a little tender to the touch. Not only did her wounds heal, but their relationship grew. They forgot about their petty disputes and quarreling from when they barely knew eachother's names and realized they got along better than they ever expected. Most of their days, they just sat around and talked, holding endless conversations. Today, their conversation lead down a more serious, tender path.

     "So." (Y/n) started, not completely sure if she wanted to ask what was on her mind. She was happy with the rather romantic connection they shared, and she didn't want to ruin it with a clear answer, but she had to know. "If we were let out today, would you still like me?"

     "Yes. Of course I would." He said kissing her forehead. They sat on the edge of the bed. (Y/n) took the pillow she was holding and set it back at the head next to her. 

     "Really?" She asked.

     "I've had my fair share of crushes and quick, 'I like you while I'm stationed here' romances, but this feels different. It feels like love." He responded, planting a firm yet sweet kiss on her lips making her giggle.

     "I love you." She said, kissing him back again. 

     He leaned into her kiss, capturing and recapturing her lips. Her tongue flicked across his teeth and he chuckled quietly to himself.

He grabbed her face and got a little rough, slipping his tongue in her mouth. She fought back, wrapping her arms around his neck and moving her body towards his in an attempt to get on his lap. He was too strong and pushed her down on the bed. She laughed, trying to get up as he leaned over her. He removed his body from hers, making her think she was victorious until he climbed further into the bed, straddling her as she tried to get up. He pushed her back down, his lips on hers, enjoying her warmth and the softness of her skin before coming up to take a breath. The both of them, slightly out of breath, locked eyes with eachother.

     "Is it bad that I really want to fuck you right now?" He whispered.

     "I was kind of hoping that that's where this is going." She said, laughing a little nervously, pulling his head down to meet her lips again. 

     He hummed a deep laugh as he ran his hands slowly up and down her body, his kisses moving from her lips to her neck. He grabbed the hem of her dull, blue pinafore and slipped it off her body, followed by her tshirt then his henley. Kisses moved further down her body, down to her stomach until he reached the band of her underwear which he pulled off once it got in his way. 

     He looked up at her, making eye contact with a hint of a smile as he palmed her soft mound between her legs. He moved closer to her body, so he could lean forward and kiss her as he played with her. He dipped a finger inside, and felt the rush of her gasp against his lips as he added another. He massaged her slowly, horribly slow and used the heel of his hand to stimulate her clit, making her roll her hips into his grasp, begging for more.

     "Hmm. You like that?" He asked, quickening his pace with his fingers. She arched her back biting her lip, only for the moment to be ruined by the sudden loss of Dogma's touch. She whimpered as she watched him slip off his pants, his cock stretching the fabric of his shorts before he pulled them off as well.

     "Please don't stop." She cried as he slid one of his fingers into his mouth, cleaning it off.

     "I'm just getting started, baby." He growled, popping the other one into her own mouth. 

She sucked her juices from him then he grabbed her legs, positioning them around his waist.

     He grabbed his cock, rubbing the tip up and down her slit before sliding it inside of her. She let out a cry and threw he head back, wishing she had told him it was her first time so he would be more gentle. Over time they had grown so close, he must have sensed her thoughts.

     "Have you done this before?" He asked, stopping. She shook her head no. "Just relax. It'll be great."

     She took a deep breath, relaxing her body allowing him to enter her completely.

     "Tell me when." He said, bringing a hand down to gently rub her clit as she got used to his size. Her core ached as her body tried to stretch around him. Slowly, the pain went away. 

     "Ok." She said. He removed his hand, leaning over her, bracing himself on his forearms. The closeness and warmth from their bodies kept away the coldness of the cell. He slowly and methodically bucked his hips into hers. Butterflies filled their stomachs and electricity pulsed through both their bodies.

     (Y/n) moaned and turned her head to the side to bury her face in the pillow. He had given her time to get used to him, but the new sensations were still a lot to take in. He filled her up and stretched her out in the most pleasurable way. Each thrust felt better and better and with the pain now gone she was on cloud nine. 

     His heavy breaths and groans in her ear paired with his warm scent he somehow managed to sustain despite the passing months made her never want to leave him. Not that she had a choice, but if they were given freedom the next morning she'd stay in bed, curl up on his chest and fall back asleep.

     "Fuck, you feel so good, (y/n)." His ragged speech brought her out of her trance as her eyes snapped to his. He pushed his body off hers sitting back on his heels and he grabbed her hips to pull her closer. He resumed the rocking and pounding of his hips into hers, bringing his hand down to massage her pussy.

     She bit her lip to keep from screaming, letting out a whimper instead and dug her fingers into the mattress. Her mouth drifted open and she made eye contact with him as he fucked her, the both of them drawing closer and closer to climax. His pace quickened, both his hips and his hand moving in harmony with one another sending shockwaves through (y/n)'s body. 

     "F-fuck, Dogma. I'm...I'm gonna cum." She panted. She cried and moaned as she reached orgasm, her body trembling as it flowed through her. As she came down from her high, Dogma reached his own orgasm, pulled out of her and came all over her body. He rocked back on his heels, smiling at the form of her body, covered in his seed. She smiled and let out a little giggle as he bent down to kiss her.

As he got up and headed for the refresher, he tossed her a cloth to clean up.

     "Join me when you're ready." He said, disappearing from the room. She wiped herself up and tossed the dirty rag and sheet from the bed in front of the door to be taken away next time they were given new supplies. She laid out both of their clothes on the bench and jumped in the shower with him.

     (Y/n) was drying her hair off with a towel in the refresher when she heard Dogma call for her help from outside. He had already gotten dressed and was tugging at the frame of his bed.

     "What are you doing?" She asked laughing. He laughed as well.

     "Sex was hard enough on a single bed. Sleeping isn't going to be much easier." She laughed at his shamelessness.

     "Ok lemme get dressed first." She said grabbing her underwear and tshirt from the bench. She slipped them on and helped Dogma by pushing the opposite side of the bed. They managed to rotate it so the headboard was against the wall opposite to the bench. They switched to (y/n)'s bed and successfully made one large bed in the middle of the room.

     "There we go." Dogma said plopping onto the bed, stretching out his arms for her to join him. It was getting cold at night so he piled all of their blankets on top of one another.

     She climbed under the covers that were already warm from his body heat. She snuggled up close to him and he wrapped his arms around her and have her a kiss on the top of her head. 

[thescholarlystrumpet]

The One Where Blum Doesn't Exactly Get What He Wants

Rated Explicit

A/N: I’m TRASH and needed Roland Blum porn so I gave him an OC to square off against. Please enjoy!

On AO3 HERE

Blum took a step forward and Madeline took a step back. They repeated this dance until she felt the wall at her back. He grinned triumphantly, raising one arm just past her shoulder, boxing her in on one side.

“Really? This is your big move? Cornering me in an empty office after a couple drinks?”

“If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it,” he shrugged, leaning in toward her.

Madeline turned her head to the side, denying him contact, but she didn’t move away. Her heartbeat was thudding in her ears, pulse thrumming hot and centering between her legs. She’d tried so hard to ignore it, to keep it at bay. Some part of her still hated him, hated everything he stood for. Hated the way he used people and tossed them aside.

Hated the way he could still affect her, even knowing all his demons as she did.

Blum wet his lips with a swipe of his tongue. “I’m not keeping you here against your will. You came back up with me.”

“I was drunk when I said yes.” Madeline rolled her eyes for emphasis.

“So was I. I'm drunk right now.”

“You’re always drunk, Roland.” She gave a half-hearted laugh.

“Mm, I like it when you say my name, Maddy.” He lifted his other hand to her cheek, trailing his fingertips across her jaw and over her lips. She parted them without thinking and he dipped a single digit inside. “Sweet, beautiful clever little mouth you have,” he crooned.

Maddy flicked her tongue against his finger before catching it with her teeth, smiling around it as Blum’s eyes widened.

“Oh, baby don’t hurt me, don’t hurt me,” he sang, slightly off key.

She tilted her head away and he withdrew his finger. “You said you had something for me,” she reminded him, trying to regulate her breathing.

Don’t do this, she reminded herself. You’ve outlasted so many others because you’re smart, you’re talented, and you won’t fuck him. Gotta keep him hungry or he’ll lose interest and you could lose the most interesting job you’ve had since graduating law school.

“What did you think I was talking about?” He cupped himself through his pants and waggled both eyebrows.

“You’re disgusting.”

“You’ve always known that.” His eyes searched her face. “Come on, Maddy, I heard what you said at the fundraiser tonight.” His gaze raked a burning path down her body and she felt naked despite the heavy satin of her dress. “Looking like that, hanging on my arm all night…”

She huffed a protest. “We were working. Networking. I was talking you up to a prospective client, like I always do. Like you pay me to do.”

He pursed his lips and dropped his arms back down, fiddling with his cuffs. She tried not to feel it as a loss when the warmth of his body shifted away.

“Who are you trying to fool here, kid?”

She closed her eyes and shook her head. “It’s been two years. Two… complicated but ultimately successful years, need I remind you? I’ve outlasted three other associates and God knows how many members of your damn entourage. Why now? Why tonight?”

Blum met her question with an inscrutable look. “Why not tonight? We’re riding high, I’m feeling good.” He cha-cha’d toward her, hips gyrating, before leaning in to whisper in her ear. “And I haven’t been able to take my eyes off of you all night.”

A shiver ran down her spine as his hot breath tickled her hairline.

“Roland,” she breathed, flushing scarlet in a flood of desire and shame.

He nosed along her neck, one hand shaping her waist. “That’s right, baby, say it again. Say it like you mean it.”

“I’m not your baby,” she grit out through clenched teeth, even as her traitorous body responded to his ministrations.

“Fine, Ma’am. Mistress. Whatever you wanna be called,” he muttered into the crook of her shoulder before nipping at her pulse point.

An exclamation escaped her and she clenched her thighs together as the throb between them grew.

Fuck him. Fuck him. Fuck him.

Not like that.

Exactly like that.

Fuck.

His hands were beginning to roam as his mouth continued to work its magic along her neck and collarbones. She’d have expected him to be sloppy, uncouth and selfish but apparently seduction was the only area outside of creative truth-telling to which Roland Blum could bring any serious focus.

Throwing the last reserve of her willpower into her hands, she grabbed his lapels and pushed his face away from her neck.

He gave her a frank look of surprise. “And here I thought we were starting to enjoy ourselves.” He added an exaggerated pout. “Go on, tell me that pussy’s not a little wet…”

“Jesus… read the room, Blum.” She tried and failed to steady her voice, to sound like her breathing hadn’t gone ragged and shallow.

“I am and you know I am.”  A sly smile spread across his face as he sunk to his knees. “In fact, I’d put good money on it. If I lifted this skirt and pulled down your panties right now…” he toyed with her hemline, eyes never leaving her face.

Maybe it was the alcohol still in her veins. Maybe it was the tension that had been building much longer than she cared to acknowledge. Maybe it was just the sight of him on his knees, wild-eyed and wanting.

Whatever the reason, Madeline finally let go.

“Ok. Ok. You know what? Just. Just… oh, fuck it.”

“Music to my ears,” he chuckled.

She glared at him. “You just down there to beg or what?”

His eyes lit with gleeful anticipation. “Oh, I can do so much better than that, Maddy.”

Permission now clearly granted, he didn’t waste another second. His hands wrapped around her calves, kneading the muscles there. As he moved upward, he bunched the fabric of her skirt and ducked his head beneath.

Madeline swore aloud as she felt his breath ghost over her sex, his beard scratching at her upper thighs. He nudged her legs further apart and she grabbed the edge of a nearby table to help stay upright. She could feel him trailing open-mouthed kisses from her knees to the crease of each thigh, just glancing past the place she was neediest. She made an impatient sound and he laughed, muffled by her flesh and the fabric.

Still, he took the hint. The next thing she felt was a hot, wet lapping against her thong. She spread her legs just to the point where she could still stand, inviting him in. The tip of his tongue traced the edges of the skimpy mesh lace before returning to press into the center. He licked a stripe upward, hitting the underside of her clit and her hips bucked involuntarily.

“Oh yes,” he groaned and repeated the motion.

One hand emerged from under her skirt to hold her hips in place as the other hand pulled the sodden undergarment aside. His tongue lashed against her directly and Madeline hissed her pleasure. He slid his tongue the length of her slit, teasing at her entrance and withdrawing. She reached down and found a handful of his wild curls, her nails scratching against his scalp as she directed him forward.

The hand not holding her hip lifted one of her legs and flung it over his shoulder. She flexed her foot and shunted her hips toward him.

“Yeah, just like that,” he muttered before driving his tongue inside her.

Madeline ground against his face, whimpering shamelessly as she sought more sensation. She could feel her climax just beginning to build, a tenseness in her abdomen, fizziness at the base of her spine. But it wasn’t enough.

She pulled his face away from her pussy and he looked up at her, panting.

“What?”

“Use your fingers. I like it rougher than that.”

“Oh fuck baby - sorry, Mistress Maddy - I’m gonna come in my pants, you keep talking like that.”

Madeline shrugged one shoulder. “Not my problem.” She guided the hand that had been holding her hip down between her legs.

Blum fixed her with an expression of unfathomable hunger. “Ask and ye shall receive.”

He watched her face as his fingers played over her heated flesh, one finger sinking in easily to be joined quickly by a second. He pumped them slowly in and out of her, his lips parted and eyes half lidded.

Madeline rolled her hips, urging him deeper, faster. He picked up the pace, setting a brutal rhythm but she met him thrust for thrust, chasing that exquisite friction. He slowed just enough to ease in a third finger, crooking them just so, hitting that most sensitive spot over and over until she was nearly mindless with pure sensation. Her entire focus narrowed to the delicious fullness, the spark that flared higher and higher each moment until it engulfed her. She shouted inarticulately at her peak, inner muscles clenching around his digits.

He pet her gently through the aftershocks, planting little kisses on the insides of her thighs once more.

Madeline adjusted her thong to provide what little coverage it could and lowered her leg from his shoulder. She found herself wanting to giggle but she swallowed the feeling down. There’d been quite enough indulgence for one evening.

Blum got to his feet, rubbing his knees as he did so. His erection was bulging obscenely against his fly. He gave her a smug smile.

She returned it with her best ‘cat that ate the canary’ impression and pushed past him, striding toward the door as best she could on wobbly legs. “Well. Thanks for that.”

“Wait. Wait, Madeline,” he called after her.

She turned halfway, looking back over one shoulder. “Hmm?”

He gestured emphatically to his hard-on. “What about this?”

Madeline smiled, saccharine sweet. “Told you, Roland, not my problem.” She turned back to the door with a tepid wave of one hand. “See you Monday, boss.”

She could still hear him swearing as the elevator doors closed. Oh, there’d be hell to pay but she could weather that storm when she had to. For now, she needed to go home and unwind in the fading afterglow of both orgasm and getting one up on Blum.

[alleywraith]

A Scouring Black Wind

((TRIGGER WARNING!! Putting the story under the cut. This is very violent and has elements that imply selling children for sexual slavery. DO NOT READ IF YOU MIGHT BE TRIGGERED BY THIS))

“Luke, you twat, why do we have to do business in a fucking cave?”

Luke, the big Seawolf smirked as he crossed his arms. As usual the Roe wore a vest to display the vast number of scars that ran along his arms, there were plenty to match all over his body, a hard life in a hard business had seen to leave its mark. “Watch it David or I’ll knock that buck toothed scowl from your face. We are here because some asshat informed the Jackets about our little gig.”

David spat to the side, his scowl still no going away. He was not pleased to have left the nice dry Thanalan weather for a damp cave in a remote armpit of a mining village in La Noscea.”They are all urchins no one should care if some rich fucker wants to buy them to…” The Midlander paused and tilted his head, he had heard what sounded like a scraping noise near the cave entrance. “Something is off.”

Before either man could speak again there was a blood curdling scream from the cave entrance, which was followed by calls to arms by the men posted to guard the meeting.

“David head back to make sure the slaves are ready and the guards on them are alert.” Luke was off at a run before he had even finished talking. “Gods damn Yellowjackets.”

What met Luke was not a squad of the La Noscean guard, but rather one man, a red headed Seeker dressed in a dark colored long coat. And that Seeker shot the larger man a look of predatory fury, a tiger ready to unleash the hate.

As soon as the Roe came into view Vash turned a steely gaze at the man that was now simply an obstacle to be removed. Powerful legs drove him forward toward his prey, long coat trailing behind him with the sudden burst of speed, and deep in his mind Vash was glad to be doing something other than training, to be back to a bit of blade work. He closed the gap in a flash, ducking low to make his profile even smaller.

Luke was shocked, but not to the point of being petrified and he looked like he welcomed the fight as much as Vash did. A big meaty hand went to his back to pull his greatsword free in a move that would aim to cleave the Seeker in two. The blade suddenly jarred in his grip and there was the unmistakable sound of steel hitting stone. The cave was too small for his weapon…

And that was all the opening Vash needed. He brought his own weapon around from where it had been hidden under his coat. There was a mechanical whir and snap as the magitek based gunblade snapped open from it’s stored position, and no sooner had the weapon come to life than Vash drove it into the gut of the Seawolf thug, angling it upward so that the blade got closer to the heart. Now there was a wicked smile from the redhead as he pulled the trigger of the weapon sending an ultrasonic vibration down the length of the blade. Vash twisted the weapon and sliced through his enemy’s torso easily, blood spattering both himself and the cave walls.

And it was over that quick, Luke almost looked like a beat had torn into him, and in a manner of speaking one had. But Vash spared the slaver not a second thought as he continued further into the cave.

No resistance was offered until he got to a larger cavern that housed a fenced in area full of several children, and six men of various races with weapons drawn and at the ready for the intruder that was disrupting their business.

Once more Vash had no intention of waiting for his prey to come to him, and he bolted forward because to hells with the odds. But he was not a foolish man, having made a very nice living in another lifetime being a meticulous planner. His arm whipped forward and he turned his head to the side just in time for a brilliant flash of light to fill the cavern punctuated by screams of frightened children and the shouts of the surprised gangsters. A tiger on the hunt, but a prepared tiger.

As men blinked to try and clear their vision he set upon them with twin long knives, a dark dervish slicing and stabbing before they could mount a successful defense, and within moments he had felled the majority of the thugs with no real resistance at all. As he readied to pounce on the remaining men he brought up his arm to block a blow from a staff that reverberated through his limb even despite the metal bracer he wore. The staff user tried to press the attack now, having mostly recovered from the flash bombs that head led to the demise of most of his cohorts.

Vash yielded ground for as the man with the staff was joined by another thug bearing knuckle dusters as his weapon of choice, they had him on the defensive and they were intent on earning their pay and a bonus for killing this disruptor. Or so they thought. Once more his arm whipped out in a smooth almost effortless motion, this time two thin throwing blades flying through the air, each blade bearing a thin blue line that pulsed softly as they made their deadly trip. One hit the staff itself, the man manageing to block that blade, but the other embedded itself in his thigh causing the gang member to howl in pain. That sound did not last long though as both knives suddenly pulsed and electricity arched between the two blades. Every muscle in the man’s body seized up and that was all Vash needed and he launched himself like a shot from a gun, in less than a second he buried a stiletto hilt deep through the man’s eye and into his brain causing the thug to fall to the ground like a puppet with his strings cut.

The fist fighter seemed to be totally taken aback by his companion’s demise, but he still charged forward and now Vash had a bit more of his work cut out for him. Fists and knives became a flurry of activity laced through with kicks and other close combat techniques from both of the men. Blows landed one each of them, but in the end Vash managed to allow himself to take a glancing blow to his jaw so that he could spin a blade and jam it up into an exposed armpit right before his other blade drove into a wonderfully exposed throat.

“S...stay back!” David, the sole survivor from the gang was holding a short sword as he tried to get the gate to the slave pen open, a desperate attempt to get a hostage.

Vash was on him in an instant, this time a sweep of a blade disarmed David in an instant, slicing easily through the tendons in the man’s wrist. He barely had time to cry out in agony before Vash started to work him over, blow after blow landing solidly even after he fell to the ground. The last slaver’s breathing was ragged through his ruined face as Vash relented to get to his feet and move to the slave pen, his gunblade shearing through the latch on the gate.

“Get out of here, all of you. Look for the men in blue by the windmill, they will get you to safety.”

As soon all of the kids were gone two emerald colored eyes turned back to regard the man writhing in agony on the ground. “C’mere…” Vash was not even close to gentle as he took a fistful of hair to David into the slave pen. “Selling children...and you know why they are being bought…”

“I...we had to...Goliath runs the racket!” David sobbed now as he held up his hands to try and ward off any more blows. “P..please...I..um...I’ll turn myself in! You can turn me in! Don’t kill me!”

Vash was ice cold as he looked down at the blubbering gangster, weighing the option briefly. “Nah...I don’t think so.” His hand seized the man’s jaw in a vice like grip painfully squeezing it open. As soon as David’s mouth was open far enough Vash stuffed a small sphere into the opening, breaking teeth in the process. He had gotten information by giving the man a glimpse of hope, but now it was time to finish things off. The Seeker stood and backed up even as David tried to work his now ruined jaw. But he did not have to worry about his jaw for long, a whirring sound emanated from the sphere right before tiny hooks snapped out from its surface painfully locking it in place. And then the fire shard went to work, and with a dull pop a rush of heat ended David’s life in a very painful boiling of his own tissues.

[alydiarackham]

(Cover by me)

Lady Rackham: An Unusual Tale of Piracy, Romance and Swashbuckling Upon the High Seas by Alydia Rackham

Prologue

St. George’s Channel

April 1st, 1744

                 "Good lord, she's been blinded."

               "Belay that please, Doctor. Get your kit and bring it to the captain's cabin, if you would."

The first mate, after issuing that quiet order, turned away from the doctor and grabbed the arm of the woman next to him. His pulse hammered, but he ground his teeth and said nothing. He didn’t dare do what his arms screamed to do: scoop her up and carry her—

For, though a lady—she was also his captain.

The cold night wind gusted through his shoulder-length, chestnut hair, and restlessly tossed her tangled ebony tresses. He lifted her over the rail—her boots clunked as she landed on the rocking deck.

He ducked his head and urgently searched her features by the deep orange light of the lamps. Her hat was missing, and mud caked her long coat and trousers. The tie of her white tunic beneath lay undone, and her belt hung sideways.

But his heart skipped a beat when he saw what the doctor had spotted:

A deep, vertical cut that began above her right eyebrow and trailed down somewhere across her right cheek. He couldn’t find where it ended, because blood coated almost the entire side of her face. His throat closed.

               The ship's doctor hurried off to his own cabin to retrieve bandages. The first mate glanced warily out past the railing to the empty sea beyond, heard only the restless waves lapping softly against the hull—so he turned back and took hold of his captain’s elbow.

She nudged him away, and proceeded on her own power, head high. He darted ahead, opened the cabin door for her, and stepped out of the way as she passed.

               He entered after, then quickly strode across the rug past her to light the lamps. The flames soon illuminated the plush room, filled with finely-carved furniture, tapestries and scarlet pillows and drapes—and now he could assess the state of his captain better.

She yanked off her soggy coat and tossed it aside, revealing more of her slight but knife-like form, clothed in a loose shirt, figure-keeping leather bodice and trousers. She yanked off her boots as well, and threw off the bandana that covered the top of her head. The first mate stood to the side, watching uneasily as blood dripped from her chin and onto her white sleeves.

               A knock at the door.

The first mate hurried over and opened it. The bearded doctor stood there, brow knitted, holding a wooden box and a bowl of water.

                "Reynolds," the first mate nodded. "Come in."

               "I don’t need that doctor," the captain growled from behind. The first mate glanced back over his shoulder to see her flop down in a chair behind her chart table. The mate's brow furrowed.

               "Is there harm in having him look at you, Captain?" he asked quietly. She didn’t look at him, for she kept her right eye mostly shut, but she shook her head.

               "I don't want him right now. Bring me the kit."

               Ducking his head, the mate took the box and bowl from the doctor, shut the door, came back and set them down on the map. He hesitated, waiting, but she didn’t say anything. So he turned to go.

                "Stay, will you, Mr. Young?" she asked, her voice softer than before.

Mr. Young paused, then nodded.

               "Yes, Captain. If you wish."

However, she didn’t offer him a chair, so he stood, his head slightly bent, his ragged hair brushing the shoulders of his doublet. He folded his arms, and absently ran his hand back and forth against his short beard. And he watched her.

She opened the box and pulled out a clean rag, and with practiced hands, dipped the rag in the water and gingerly began wiping away the blood. She started with her eyelid, and the tender skin around it. Mr. Young held his breath. Slowly, the mess came away enough so that he could glimpse her long black eyelashes…

And then both of her bright, ebony eyes flashed up to meet his. She smiled crookedly.

               "I lost my hat."

                Mr. Young let out his breath. He lifted an eyebrow.

               "You almost lost your eye."

               She grunted and squeezed her right eye shut again, starting on her cheek. Mr. Young's gaze drifted over her features as she slowly uncovered her soft, tanned skin, along with her comely nose and the corner of her mouth.

               "You look pale, Mr. Young. You’ve never seen blood before?" she muttered.

               He closed his fists.

               "Why did you not let me come with you?" he demanded. The captain snorted.

                "Come now. What would I say to your betrothed if I had to hand her back that ring she gave you and tell her I got you killed?"

The rag strayed into the center of her wound, and she suddenly hissed. She threw the rag down with a slap, and her shaking hand twitched back up toward her face.

Mr. Young reflexively started forward—then instantly stopped himself. Gritting his teeth, he lowered his head further and settled his hands on the edge of the table.

She took a tight breath, her jaw clamped, and a hand bedecked with rings drifted down to rest on the parchment map.

               "I had him, Young," she muttered, her black eyes burning as she stared at the wall of the cabin. "I had him. And then one of his rats shot at me from above. I thought I'd been killed. Then he sliced my face open. I stepped back and fell into a ravine. It was too dark for him to find me." The captain snatched the rag up, dipped it to try again, glancing blackly back up at her first mate. "One thing I did learn: he’s heading to the Caribbean, after he takes on cargo. We’ll fly ahead of him and lie in wait. In my own waters, in my own tides and islands." She squeezed the excess bloody water out on to the map and bared her teeth. "I'll have him yet."

 Chapter One

Portsmouth, England

May 11th, 1744

                 "Not so tight! Luellen, not so tight!"

               "'ow many times 'ave I told you, Mistress? It's got to be tight to show off your form!"

               "I won't have any form left if you keep...ah! If you...If you keep pulling those stays!"      

Lady Gwendolyn of the House of Montgomery held tightly to the post of her elegant wooden bed, trying to keep from being yanked backwards as her red-faced, plump maidservant gave another hard tug on her corset stays. Luellen huffed, finally finished, and tied the bindings.

               "There now. I've kept you a notch looser than yesterday. You can thank me." Luellen slapped Gwendolyn's corset, but Gwendolyn couldn’t even feel it through the thick, hard material.

               "Thank you. You're very kind," Gwendolyn grunted, trying to stand up straight and wincing as she did. Though she was nearly nineteen, she had always bucked the idea of wearing a corset. Most of the other young ladies she knew had been tightened much further by now and professed to be quite comfortable—though Gwendolyn didn’t know how that was possible.

               She glanced about her sleeping quarters. She had two tall windows facing west, and each housed a plush, red velvet window seat. Long, lace curtains hung from golden rods up above the open windows. She liked to smell the salty freshness of the nearby sea.

Luellen huffed again as she dug through Gwendolyn's largest piece of furniture: a beautifully carved, oak wardrobe that had belonged to Gwendolyn's mother. Gwendolyn stood in front of the mirror, waiting, absently touching her corset and bloomers and wishing for the days of her childhood when she could just run around in a sack and bare feet.

Thoughtfully and a bit sleepily, she ran her hand through her long, light-brown hair and wished for a thin, cotton dress to match her blue eyes…    

               "'ere now. 'ow about this one?"

Gwendolyn blinked and turned to find a slightly disheveled Luellen holding out a voluminous red-and-gold gown.  Gwendolyn made a face.    

               "Ugh, no. It is far too warm for that one. Besides, we're not expecting any company."  

               "Well, I’m tired of choosing every day, only to have you tell me no!" Luellen cried. "Which do you want?"    

               Gwendolyn stepped past Luellen to peer into the wardrobe. She fingered each rich dress, and at last she reached to the very back and pulled out a simple, sky blue dress that she had not worn for months.  

               "This," she decided.  

"But that’s no longer in fashion at all!"    

"I don’t mind," Gwendolyn smiled. "I’d much rather be cool than in fashion."          

Sighing and rolling her eyes, Luellen helped Gwendolyn on with her petticoats and other undergarments, then pulled the blue dress over the lady's head and smoothed it down. A very simple dress; no frills or laces,  elbow-length sleeves,  a slight bolster, and, most importantly, made out of a linen fabric that breathed.  

After Luellen had fastened it in the back, she bade Gwendolyn to sit down in front of her white vanity to do her hair.    

"Don't make a fuss about it today," Gwendolyn urged. So Luellen pinned Gwendolyn's hair up in a loose bun that allowed some strands of hair to fall loosely down. Gwendolyn didn’t even put on any jewelry, for she didn’t want to go out today. Instead, she felt like finding a place in the shady library, ordering a cup of tea, and continuing the book that had engrossed her all week.  

A knock at the door—three sharp taps.

Gwendolyn gasped and stood up, banging her knees on her vanity and rattling her perfume bottles.    

"Come in, Jonathan," she winced.

The latch worked and the door swung open. A stiffly-dressed, wigged old servant with a wooden expression, bowed shortly.  

"My lady, your father bids you to the grand entrance immediately."  

"Thank you.”

Gwendolyn did not wait. She shoved her stool out of the way and followed Jonathan out the door and down the spacious, airy corridor, lined with decorative tables and solemn portraits.  Despite Jonathan's age, he moved swiftly, and Gwendolyn rustled along behind him, trying to breathe enough to keep up.  

They hurried down several flights of winding stairs and finally emerged into the tall, marbled grand entryway, beneath the glimmering crystal chandelier.  

Her father stood there by the tall front door, garbed in his finest Navy uniform and bedecked with all of his medals.  He wore his white wig perfectly. But his sea-weathered face didn’t turn toward her as she entered.  Which was good—for all the blood drained out of her head at the sight of other person in the room.    

A young nobleman, straight as a beech tree, wearing a beautifully-embroidered blue riding suit, a plumed hat under his arm. Handsome and placid; his dark eyes focused on her father, his brown hair pulled back in a black ribbon.  

Jonathan stopped, and cleared his throat. Both her father and the nobleman turned to look at Gwendolyn.  

Instantly, her father's blue eyes pierced her. The nobleman's face remained unchanged.    

"Come here, Gwendolyn," her father ordered, motioning to her.

Johnathan stepped out of the way, and Gwendolyn cautiously stepped up to her father's side. He did not touch her.  

“Gwendolyn, may I present Lord Gregory Bucklin, a cousin to the king," her father introduced. “Lord Bucklin, this is my daughter, Lady Gwendolyn Lilia of the House of Montgomery.”

               "It is an honor," the young lord bowed politely.

               Gwendolyn's throat closed.  She had heard this man’s name mentioned many times during her few stays at court.  And all of a sudden, she felt stupid for standing in the presence of royalty wearing an old dress, messy hair and absolutely no adornment or even perfume. She blushed.  

"I am equally honored, my lord." She curtsied, trying to hide her face.    

"Would you come sit with us, Lord Bucklin?" Her father gestured to a room off to his left.  

"Thank you, my lord," Bucklin replied coolly, straightening. Lord Montgomery then proceeded into the parlor, and Lord Bucklin indicated that Gwendolyn follow her father first. Getting the slight sensation of walking in a military escort, Gwendolyn managed to keep her face blank, and step into the smaller room.  

A couch and three chairs of floral upholstery and dark wood waited for them.  Lord Montgomery motioned for Gwendolyn to sit in one of these chairs, and he and Lord Bucklin settled into the other two.  

The three of them chatted casually for a few minutes about the roads, the weather, and the state of the Royal Navy.  Gwendolyn mostly listened, only speaking when her father or Lord Bucklin asked her a question, which they did not do very often.  At last, her father cleared his throat.    

"Well, now I suppose we should discuss the true reason for this house call,” her father began as he leaned back into his chair. “Gwendolyn, you know I have always looked out for your happiness. And it is for that reason that I have invited Lord Bucklin to our home today. A few months ago, he sent me a letter very honorably indicating to me that you had caught his eye during your stay at the royal court this past winter. Although he did not obtain an introduction, he found your manner to be amiable, beautiful, refined, polite, meek and worthy. Isn’t that true, Lord Bucklin?" her father asked, unable to hide a smile.  

"Yes, my lord.  Quite right,” Bucklin acknowledged—though Gwen saw him frown slightly.  Gwendolyn tried not to swallow.    

"Thank you, my lord," she replied.  

"He also indicated to me that, though he is nearing his thirtieth year, he has not yet married,” her father went on. Gwendolyn looked at him sharply. Her father continued, smiling.    

"In fact, he went to the court this spring with the intention of searching for a wife, as he is the only son of the aging Lord Andrew Bucklin. Correct, sir?"  

"Yes, my lord,” Bucklin said, glancing at Gwendolyn carefully.  Gwendolyn felt as if her corset were tightening of its own accord.    

"Therefore," her father said, with an air of finality. "If you will have him, I have found that he is a good and amiable man who can make you happy and protect you quite well, and have given him permission to court you with the intention of marriage. I thought that I should make sure that you are satisfied with the situation."  

She stared at him blankly. But the moment hung there, and so she made herself draw in a breath.  

"Thank you, Father," was all she got out—and even to herself, her voice sounded unrecognizable.  

"So," her father slapped his thigh, which made her jump. "My work is done; I'll leave you two alone for a moment, and then we shall have tea." The seaman rose to his feet, winced at an old pain in his back, then strode out of the room, leaving the door open.

Gwendolyn swallowed again, watching him go, then turned back to Lord Bucklin. However, she soon directed her gaze at her folded hands.  

"I am sorry about this," Bucklin said quietly.    

Gwendolyn managed to lift her eyes, her brow furrowing.    

"Pardon?" she murmured.

      Lord Bucklin shifted, then stood up, clasping his hands behind his

back, and stepped toward the window.

“When I saw you at court, I confess that I was pleased with your manner, your appearance, your beauty…your laugh,” he said hesitantly. “I had hoped to find a suitable time to be introduced to you, but no opportunity seemed to present itself.” He turned and faced her, his eyes bright and earnest. “I had no desire to make this seem like a business transaction—but the bluntness of your father’s presentation compels me to utmost honesty with you, trusting that you will understand what I say.”

Gwendolyn hesitated, then nodded carefully. Lord Bucklin shifted his weight.

“My uncle, Lord Andrew, has been placing considerable pressure upon me to find a wife to suit my station once I inherit. He has given me liberty to choose who I may—but he has restricted my time to choose to six months. I have already spent three of those in vain, and therefore I find myself in dire straits. My only good fortune seems to be the happenstance that you, the one who has caught my eye, are an honorable and good-hearted lady, and might tolerate such a union.” He glanced at the door, then lowered his voice, and tilted toward her. “I shall endeavor to make myself worthy of you, madam. And if you will have patience with me, I am certain we shall make the best of all of this, and in the end, be quite happy.” He tried to smile at her. “Shall we try?”

Gwendolyn’s heart pounded against her corset. She opened her mouth—  

"Excuse me my lady; my lord,” Jonathan interrupted, stepping halfway into the parlor. “Lord Montgomery invites you to the luncheon room for tea.”    

Lord Bucklin ducked his head, then glanced at her and held out his arm for her to take.

Listlessly, as if watching herself from a distance, Gwendolyn stood,  took his arm,  and followed after Jonathan.  

               The tea went much the way that the earlier conversation had gone:    small talk about nothing of significance, mostly between the two lords.  Gwendolyn simply tried to swallow her drink without being ill.  

Finally, after about a quarter of an hour, Lord Bucklin rose to go, explaining that he needed to see to some business at the docks. Gwendolyn and her father rose to their feet, escorted him to the door, and Gwendolyn permitted Lord Bucklin to kiss her hand. He then gave her a polite, quiet smile, and took his leave.  

After the door had shut behind him, Gwendolyn's father turned to her.    

"Well? What do you think of him?"  

Gwendolyn drew herself up and fought to control her voice.    

"He is...courteous."  

"Indeed, indeed,” her father nodded, clasping his hands behind his back just as Lord Bucklin had done. “That is exactly what I thought. Very amiable, agreeable man. And, he has excellent connections, a worthy family! His estate is old and prosperous, and he needs a son. A perfect match, dearest.  A perfect match. You are a fortunate girl!”      

"Yes, Father,” Gwendolyn whispered, but he wasn’t listening.  He drew himself up and strode purposefully out of the entryway and toward the library, already deep in another thought.  

Slowly, Gwendolyn turned around and trudged up the stairs—but soon her footsteps quickened, and before she knew what she was doing, she raced up the stairs, pelted down the hallway, burst into her bedroom and slammed the door behind her. Her breath rasped in her throat because of her corset, and she felt ready to faint.  

"Mistress! Mistress, what's wrong?" Luellen yelped, throwing down her laundry and hurrying up to Gwendolyn.  

"They've arranged...  " Gwendolyn panted, feeling tears burn her eyes.  

"What? What are you talking about?" Luellen took her by the shoulders.    

"Father and...Lord Bucklin," Gwendolyn rasped. "Father would have me marry him."  

Luellen's hands slowly drifted down and away from her as Gwendolyn leaned heavily back against her door.    

"But mistress…You can't marry 'im!" Luellen said fearfully. "You're...."  

"I know, I know," Gwendolyn gasped, her face twisting. “I'm already engaged."    

 Chapter Two

 Gwendolyn shed her fine shoes, put on a pair of common work boots and then wrapped a ragged shawl of Luellen's around her shoulders. Carefully, after forcing Luellen into an oath of silence, Gwendolyn opened the door to the servants’ staircase, stepped through and quietly closed it behind her.  

A single gas lamp flickered in the darkness of the spiral staircase, and she tripped down the stairs, avoiding those that squeaked loudly.  

After several more twists and turns, her way lit by occasional lamps,  she pushed on a thick, crude wooden door and found herself outside. The brilliant day made her blink. The fresh scent of spring hung rich in the air, and the breeze warmed her skin, playing with the loose strands of her hair and her skirts.  

She closed the door, glanced about to see that no one was outside, and raced across the emerald grass to the tall, stately stables and darted inside.  

Panting, she shut herself in, the wind instantly stopping and the sweet scent of hay surrounding her.  She then made her way to a stall where she hurriedly saddled up her favorite mare. After once more casting a wary eye out the small window to see that no one occupied the yard, she shoved open the wide door with great effort, climbed up on her horse and urged her into a swift trot.  

They instantly broke out of the stables into the sunshine and wind.  Gwendolyn sought the wooded road, where she knew she could not be seen from the house, and at last her horse's hooves pounded against the soft dirt of the wagon road that led to the harbor.  

Soon, Gwendolyn left the woods behind her, and spectacular, rolling hills surrounded her. Jagged, rocky cliffs plummeted to the sea just to her right.  She could hear the distant roar of the breakers now, and the bustle of activity within the nearby city of Portsmouth.  

After three more bends in the road, the bun in her hair almost completely undone by the whipping wind, the road turned to cobblestone, and small, quaint homes and businesses rose up on either side of her.  

All manner of people walking quickly up and down filled the streets, tending to business—some sweeping about in cloaks or uniforms or fine dresses, others trooping by in dirty work clothes and leather, tricorn hats.  Others rode, and quite a few drove carts or wagons that rattled hard against the stones.  Gwendolyn forced herself to pull back on the reins and slow her mount's speed, but her heart kept pounding.  

She glanced up. Ahead, down the hill and by the sea stood the tall port buildings, and wooden docks jutting out into the silvery, churning sea. Sunlight sparkled blindingly against the water, turning the ships to black silhouettes.  

Three ships floated in the wide harbor: two rather small ones and a very large merchant vessel. Gwendolyn bit her lip.  She could just see the hardy men hefting the loads of boxes, barrels and sacks back and forth along the docks.  

After an impossible half hour, she finally broke out of the loud, hustling masses and took a side street that ended very near the docks.

At last, she burst out of the little alley and trotted up to dock ten, where the largest, grandest vessel lay moored.  

She had never seen a ship like it. Painted black and red—a forty-gunner.  As she dismounted and tied her horse, she marveled at the height of its three masts, the beauty of its carved, teak wood, the length of its thick body, the pride of its forward thrusting bowsprit, and the vast shadow it cast upon the water. A fierce queen, a sword held straight forward in one hand, formed the magnificent figurehead. Clearly, this ship had been constructed for traveling over the broad Atlantic.  

Gwendolyn pulled her attention down from the massive ship to the line of workers hauling the supplies up and down the creaking dock, urgently searching their faces for a familiar one.  

There.

He stood near the gangplank, giving orders to the men trudging up and down it, a ledger under his arm. He was short; perhaps just three inches taller than Gwendolyn. He had fair skin, a sharp nose. He had ginger hair, and a strong, nimble form.  He wore a white shirt that had sleeves that came down to his elbows, a brown waistcoat, a battered tricorn hat, and a thick, tan trousers that came down to his knees, and white hose. His simple buckled shoes had seen too much wear. And ink stains marked his pointing hand.

Gwendolyn stepped around the weather-beaten dock building and hurried out onto the wooden dock, careful to avoid the workers. Halfway to the gangplank, she shouted:  

"Shea! Shea MacCaulay!"  

The young man instantly stopped and turned to her.  A sparkling grin flashed across his face, and his eyes, the color of the sea behind him, sparkled.  

"Gwendolyn!" he crowed, put his ledger down on a barrel and dashed up to her. Before she could say anything, he had swept her up and twirled her around,  laughing, and his hat fell off.  After he had set her down, he withdrew a bit, the breeze fluttering through his wild hair. He grinned at her in delight.        

"I'm so glad you came today!"  He reached down, snatched up his hat and stuffed it back on, then clasped her soft hand in his calloused one. “Just look at her!" He swept his other hand grandly to draw her attention to the magnificent ship.  

"She's beautiful,” Gwendolyn managed, trying not to tremble, and holding on to his left hand with both of hers.    

"Your father's just hired her," Shea told her, glancing at Gwendolyn. "She’s a brigantine. Her name is Annabella. In three days, she'll be carrying shipments of supplies and ammunition all the way to the colonies in the Caribbean."  

"Shea,” Gwendolyn said—or tried to say.  All that came out was a strangled whisper, and he didn’t hear her.  Her grip on his hand tightened and her shivering grew worse.  

How was she supposed to tell him?    

She moved closer to him, leaning her head against his shoulder as he studied the splendid vessel.  She felt him take a deep breath.    

"The West Indies and the Caribbean," he said breathlessly. "Can you imagine that? The West Indies! I've talked to sailors that have been there; they told me that there's more gold than you could wish for; and that the water is a color of blue that you've never seen, and it's so clear and warm that it's like bath water. There are also jungles and mountains and huge fish and parrots and things like that...But mostly there are…pirates." He chuckled. "I must go there someday."  

Gwendolyn backed up slightly and looked at him, his unruly hair blown in the salty wind, his cheeks ruddy,  his eyes alight as he stared at that ship, the grin on his face broadening.  

She could not tell him.  Not when she knew it would wipe that wonderful expression from his face—the expression that had made her fall in love with him.  

He blinked and turned to her,  a shadow crossing his sunny visage.  

"Something wrong?"    

Gwendolyn instantly gathered herself and put on her best teasing

face.    

"This place sounds quite dangerous."  

He cocked an eyebrow, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his

mouth.  

"Are you saying that I shouldn't go?"    

"Not at all.” She glanced down at their hands and fiddled with the broad, coarsely-worked Irish ring on his right hand—his only bit of finery— then lifted her head and smiled at him. “I merely insist that you take me with you.”      

He laughed out loud and kissed her forehead.    

"We'll see."  

Chapter Three

May 27th

Gwendolyn sighed and glanced at the little white-and-gold clock that sat on the wooden mantle in the library. She had been reclining on the couch, endeavoring to read, all morning and early afternoon. It was now nearly three o'clock; Lord Bucklin would be calling soon. Gwendolyn bit her lip and forced her attention back to her book.    

It had been two weeks since his courtship had become official, but during Lord Bucklin's daily house calls, Gwendolyn had managed to be evasive enough not to allow a wedding date to be set.  However, he came so often and stayed so long that she could not escape to the docks.    

She had been praying so hard. Every night for hours and hours she knelt beside her bed, beseeching God to show her what she should do.

She had not yet received an answer.  

Two low taps came at the door. Gwen paused, her head coming up.

It had to be Beth, one of the maids.  

"Come in,” Gwendolyn called, adjusting the pillow beneath her elbow. The door creaked open and the slight girl edged inside, holding a small, paper-wrapped, square package.    

"This parcel came for you, madam." She stepped toward Gwendolyn and held the package out. "Jack went to town today, to the bookstore to see if Lord Montgomery’s maps had come in yet. The shop keeper said that this had been left for you."  

"Thank you, Beth.  You may go,” Gwendolyn murmured, sitting up and taking the package.  Beth curtsied, then left the room and shut the door behind her.  

Gwendolyn's hands trembled.  Nothing had been written on the brown paper. Quickly, she untied the twine that bound it, pulled off the paper—and found a small blue book in her lap.    

     "The Islands and Surrounding Waters of the Caribbean and West Indies, and All Manner of Man and Beast That Dwell Therein," she breathed the gold title to herself. She opened the front cover. An envelope slid out. She snatched it up.

Nothing had been written on it either. She quickly broke the wax seal and tugged out the paper within.

May 13th, 1744

My dearest lady,              

      I have been given a great opportunity.      

Your father, a faithful and generous master to me always, has hired me as one of the crew of the Annabella, which sets sail today. But I enlist not just for a regular crewman's sum. Your father has spoken to the captain, and he is willing to put me in charge of several important duties which will require more pay—and as a result, I shall be paid more in one voyage than I could earn in five years as a shipping clerk.        

That means that when I return, I will be able to marry you.    

I desperately want you to know that this is the only reason that I

would take hold of this opportunity. Leaving you behind is proving to be one of the most difficult experiences of my life. It is made even more difficult by the fact that your father has kept me so busy that I have been completely unable to find a way to see you, and thus I had to settle for sending you this note, which at the very least is completely inadequate.      

     I want you to know, Gwen, that I love you.          

    That is why I go. And indeed, even the prospect of seeing the West Indies does not sound so appealing since I cannot say goodbye as I wished. But the entire journey is truly more valuable to me than any riches or adventure, because it will enable me to gain what of late I had thought was unattainable.      

      Pray for my safe voyage. I shall be thinking of you always—imagining my lady in the lovely countryside of England, fair and unspoilt as a rose.

I shall be forced to winter in the Caribbean and shall return home in perhaps August of next year.

                 Yours,    

                Shea Benjamin MacCaulay    

          P.S. This is the most detailed book that I could find about the Caribbean, and also sailing ships; different pirates and pirate ships. There is also an excellent map in the fore pages, on which I have taken the liberty of drawing out our route and the days on which (approximately) we shall be stopping at each island. I thought, in that way, that you might almost feel as if you could see through my eyes.    

              SBM    

           Gwendolyn couldn’t breathe.  She sat frozen on the couch, every muscle taut,  the heat draining from her face. Then she slapped a hand over her mouth.

The next moment, her father and Lord Bucklin walked in.  

"Dearest, Lord Bucklin has arrived,” her father announced—too loudly. Lord Bucklin, as handsome and neat as ever, strode in, bowed, and held out a handful of colorful flowers, a smile lighting his face.  

Gwendolyn didn’t look at either of them. She stared straight out the broad western windows, out at the rolling hills and the gray, tossing sea. Her hand fell into her lap.  

The date on the letter.

He had been gone for two weeks.  

Two weeks—and she had known nothing about it.  

Her stomach lurched.    

"Gwendolyn?" The cheeriness had vanished from her father's voice. She didn’t move.  

"Father,” she rasped. “Father you...you sent him…"

  "What?” Lord Montgomery stepped toward her quickly. “Are you quite all right? You’ve gone pale!”

She dragged her eyes up to meet his.  He watched her intently, his brow furrowed. She swallowed.    

"I've just heard...” she whispered. “I've heard that you...you've sent one of your...one of your shipping clerks to the West Indies."

"Of course. I do that almost every year," her father said. "Is something wrong?" 

"Shea,” Gwendolyn murmured. “You...You sent Shea MacCaulay."    

"Yes,” her father said gravely, straightened up and clasped his hands behind his back. "Yes, I did.  "    

Gwendolyn stared at him, feeling as if she had never seen him in her life.    

"Why?" she wondered dimly. He looked down at her sharply, then glanced up in thought, cleared his throat, then returned his gaze to her.  

"Very well, it is time I made you aware.” He took a deep breath, and raised his eyebrows. “I sent him away because I now know what he has been doing with his leisure time."    

Gwendolyn sat up straighter, and folded Shea's letter close to her.    

"What are you talking about?" she asked. Her father paced over to the window. Lord Bucklin still stood in the doorway, dumbly holding the flowers, his brow furrowed.  

"The other day, I found Luellen weeping, and I asked her what was troubling her," Lord Montgomery began frankly.  "She told me that you were engaged! 'Engaged,' said I.  'Of course, to young Lord Bucklin.' 'Nay,' said she. 'To a shipping clerk of your employ, a one Shea MacCaulay.'" Her father turned around and faced Gwendolyn squarely. "I realized then that you'd been led astray, my dear.  Deceived by the romantic promises of a seaman." He smiled gently at her. “And I forgive you for that.  You aren’t acquainted with these sailors the way I am. I know full well how they can capture a girl’s imagination with tales of adventure and faraway lands. But believe me—they each keep one such girl in every port!"    

Gwendolyn struggled to draw breath, to answer, but her mind spun.  Her father took a few steps toward her.    

"And there's something else you should know about that young Shea MacCaulay," he said slowly. "The monk that raised him told me all about his past. I kept it quiet for twenty years, graciously providing him with employment, giving the lad a chance to clear his blackened name—but now that I have discovered that this scheming devil had designs upon my daughter, my conscience is clear enough that I may let the entire world know that Shea MacCaulay is the son of a pirate—a pirate that went to the gallows for his crimes."

"But he's coming back...” Gwendolyn remembered weakly.

"No.” Her father shook his head.  "At the moment, he may believe that. I offered him a handsome pay. But the captain has orders to find him a situation in one of the ports, perhaps in the slave market.  Mr. MacCaulay always spoke so glibly about the Caribbean; I would wager it will suit him much better. And he will find a much more profitable use for his time.”   Lord Montgomery clapped his hands. "So, that clears away that particular problem quite neatly.  Now we can set the date for your blessed event. What say you?"    

"No. "    

Lord Montgomery went still.  

"What?"    

Gwendolyn lifted her eyes and met his.    

"No," she repeated.  

"No what?" her father repeated, bewildered.

Slowly, clutching Shea's book and letter to her chest, Gwendolyn stood up.  

"No. I won't marry him. I will not marry Lord Bucklin.  "  

Lord Montgomery glanced at Lord Bucklin.  

"What do you mean you won't marry him?" Lord Montgomery demanded, his voice rising.  

Lord Bucklin's brow furrowed.    

"My lady, I thought we agreed—"  

"I agreed to nothing,” Gwendolyn said flatly.

"Dearest, I have been completely fair," her father insisted. “I even asked you if you approved of this worthy young man.  "    

"Yes, you did.” Gwendolyn lifted her head, though her bones trembled.  "I have no qualms with this gentleman as he is—I have no doubt he is honorable and kind. But you never asked me who I loved."    

Her father's eyes suddenly flashed with fury.  

“What?!” he roared.  “What are you talking about?" He gestured violently. "Flinging yourself at some common shipping clerk! If your mother were alive, she’d wish that she never bore you!"   

Read this book: https://www.amazon.com/Lady-Rackham-Unusual-Romance-Swashbuckling-ebook/dp/B071ZZFSZS/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=Lady+Rackham+Alydia+Rackham&qid=1572897680&sr=8-1

[yetanotherauthor]

Pairing: HashiramaTobirama Word count: 3691 Rated: M Summary: A chance movement at just the right time grants them a new beginning, their dreams come true.

I do commissions on my main blog! 

Sweet Serendipity 

Hashirama looked up eagerly at the sound of the front door opening, his expression falling again immediately upon catching a proper glimpse of the young man walking in to the house. Exams time was never easy on any student but this semester in particular seemed to be driving his brother in to the ground. Coming up on the end of his second year in university, Tobirama had been running himself ragged for the past several months with so many assignments it was hard to keep track and now he had all but stopped sleeping as he studied for what he called the hardest exams of his life.

With a grunt that sounded almost like a wounded animal Tobirama dropped his backpack by the door, kicked off his shoes, and shuffled towards the living room. Knowing his terrible studying habits he probably hadn’t eaten anything all day and yet the lure of the couch won out over the growling his stomach had no doubt been doing since well before noon.

“Bad day?” Hashirama asked, wincing when the younger man flopped down on the loveseat so hard his head actually rebounded off the cushions. With gentle motions he slid his own body in to the small space left and reach out to pet his fingers through soft white hair.

“I’m fucking exhausted. After tomorrow I am going to wrap myself in every blanket in this house and sleep for an entire week.”

“Oh! Right! I forgot that tomorrow was your very last exam! Well, I’m still off from work for another week or so, I’ll make sure I stay quiet so you can rest.” He smiled even though Tobirama’s eyes were closed. Almost no one but him ever got to see these moments when his little brother let the world get to him in some way and showed some small form of weakness, even just by admitting that he was tired.

With a hum Tobirama curled further in to the arm of the loveseat. “How’s your foot doing?”

“Still a little sore.” Hashirama peeked down at the bandages just underneath his left toe where he’d stepped on some glass. A martial arts teacher that couldn’t demonstrate any of the moves was sort of only half useful so he’d handed off his classes to one of the assistant sensei until he healed.

His heart fluttered in his chest when Tobirama hummed again and blindly reached back to pat him on the arm in sympathy. Displays of concern like that only came when his walls were down and Hashirama treasured them all, hoarded the memories of each and every time Tobirama made the bond between them more obvious. How such an open-hearted family had produced such a reticent man he would never know but still he wouldn’t change his baby brother for the world.

Edging a little closer, he tucked some of the man’s hair behind one perky little white ear and giggled to himself. Tobirama shifted one shoulder in an effort to shoo him away but it didn’t work. He continued playing until finally his sibling heaved himself upright with a monumental sigh of effort.

“Why do you always pick the worst times to be annoying?” he whined.

“Because you will get much better rest if you fall asleep in your bed,” Hashirama told him. “Go on. I’ll wake you up in a few hours when I’ve got dinner ready.”

No matter what happened, Hashirama would always insist that he leaned over then to kiss his brother with nothing but innocent intentions. His only thought had been to give him a little goodnight peck somewhere unremarkable like the side of his head or the temple, something he had done a hundred times or more, just a quick little smooch with no other thought behind it. He certainly didn’t expect for Tobirama to turn his head at the last second with the intent of saying something. Their lips connected dead on and for a couple of men who were supposed to be intelligent – in their own ways – both of them took a few seconds to react.

Incredibly, neither of them jerked backwards like their face had caught fire. Hashirama had always thought that would be Tobirama’s first reaction to even the slightest sign of his brother’s deepest darkest secret. Instead they pulled apart slowly with matching wide eyes and racing pulses – or at least he assumed Tobirama’s pulse was racing too. Hashirama could hear his own blood thundering so loudly in his ears they could probably catch the echo of it three cities over.

“You kissed me,” Tobirama said, his voice very quiet and very shocked. Hashirama swallowed against the breathiness in those words.

“I just meant…the side of your head. That’s all.”

“Sure but– I mean I believe you. But. You kissed me.”

“By accident!” Panic rose with every second that passed as Hashirama scrambled through his fumbling brain for any coherent sentences to string together in his own defense.

Tobirama blinked once, tilted his head, and lifted his chin just so. If it were anyone else Hashirama would have said he was inviting another kiss but that was, of course, impossible. It didn’t stop him from imagining it and letting a tiny squeak of panic escape him as his pulse jumped up again.

“You didn’t stop,” his brother pointed out. “For a second I thought you were…kissing me back.”

“I promise I would nev- wait, back?” Hashirama froze, staring down his own impossibilities and admiring the sudden flush creeping up Tobirama’s neck.

“Back, yes.”

Cautious, unsure if he was actually seeing what he thought he was seeing, Hashirama kept very still while his thoughts continued to race. He could almost swear that Tobirama was implying he felt the same way, the same yearning, and the way he had positioned himself could almost suggest he wanted it to happen again. The very idea of it was intoxicating but Hashirama knew he had to be careful. If he was mistaken he could ruin everything between them and the last thing he wanted to do was lose his brother in any way.

Sure he had fallen in love with the younger man despite knowing how wrong it was but they would first and foremost always be brothers. Family was more important to him than anything.

The temptation to at least try, however, was too much. Hashirama held his brother’s gaze as he lowered his head just a fraction of an inch. When Tobirama didn’t move away he did his best to hide the way his breathing shuddered and moved a little closer. They danced like that for several minutes, neither speaking as Hashirama drew closer bit by bit and Tobirama steadily held his ground. When they were only a hairs breadth away Hashirama saw the younger man’s lips tilt up at one corner in a soft smile he’d only seen a handful of times before.

It gave him the courage to cross that last bit of space and then…and then they were kissing. Tobirama pressed back in to him, one hand flat against his chest but not pushing him away, moaning as if this was something he’d been waiting a long time for. Everything about this moment was so perfect Hashirama realized he didn’t care if he was dreaming or hallucinating or anything else. All he cared about was winding his fingers in to that soft white hair he so loved to play with and kissing the brother he treasured so much with all the passion he’d been holding back. The incredible relief of finally being able to express his feelings, there were no words for it.

“Okay,” Tobirama gasped against him. “Either I’m much more awake now than I was five minutes ago or I was never awake and this is all a dream.”

“Pretty much my thoughts,” Hashirama said with a nervous titter.

“I never thought…”

“Me neither. Can I kiss you again?”

Tobirama nodded frantically with a fervent, “Please.”

He grunted in surprise when Hashirama all but tackled him but responded in kind, throwing his arms around Hashirama’s shoulders and moaning for a second time as he was gently lowered backwards until he was once again lying across the couch. Only this time he was stretched out on his back in the small space available with Hashirama crouched between his bent knees, chests pressed together and lips moving desperately as they both allowed their pent up longing to explode all at once.

It felt nothing short of divine to have Tobirama’s body against his own like this. Every shift and movement rubbed against him in glorious ways he’d barely dared to imagine even on the darkest nights when he was sure he was alone in the house. When he bit down on his brother’s lip and Tobirama bucked up underneath him Hashirama hardly thought to resist.

Nothing in the world had ever set his blood to pounding quite like the feeling of grinding his hips down and feeling Tobirama roll up in to him with a mewl of pleasure. Hashirama kissed with everything he had and rocked his hips down again. Already he was hardening in his jeans even as his brain struggled to catch up to the fact that this was really happening. If the entire world had fallen down around their ears at that moment Hashirama wasn’t sure he would have noticed in the slightest, so wrapped up was he in the man underneath him, the taste of their tongues brushing together and the sensation of electricity running down his spine.

Without even thinking about it he pressed his brother deeper in to the couch and began grinding their hips together like a teenager chasing his first orgasm. It had been years since mere frottage had done anything more for him than build an interest in further foreplay yet here he was worried about coming in his pants and still unwilling to slow down unless he was asked to – and Tobirama didn’t seem all that interested in asking him to back off.

They rocked together like eager adolescents as Hashirama finally dragged his lips away from Tobirama’s and made his way across that beautifully sharp jaw line, nibbling and sucking as the raspy voice in his ear whispered his name with such reverence it made him shiver.

“A-Anija…” Tobirama arched in to him and gasped when it provided a little extra friction.

“Oh Tobi, my Tobi.”

“No, wait, can – ah, do that again!”

Hashirama grinned against the pale skin he’d just bitten, lapping at it soothingly before sinking his teeth in again just to listen to the startled moan it earned him. “What were you going to say?”

“Can you…can you call me…um…”

As unusual as it was for Tobirama to be so hesitant, Hashirama figured it must have been something embarrassing that he was trying to ask for. Rather than make a big deal out of it he slowed the rhythm of his hips by a mere fraction and laid a trail of soft kisses up the side of his brother’s neck. When an idea occurred to him he, too, hesitated for a moment before leaning back up to whisper in the other man’s ear, pitching his voice as low and sultry as he could make it.  

“Otouto?” He guessed. Tobirama gasped raggedly and bucked.

“Yes. That. Please, Anija, just–!” A desperate sound escaped him that went straight to Hashirama’s cock, encouraging him to quicken his hips again and pull back just far enough to look his brother in the eye.

“Otouto,” he growled against Tobirama’s lips before taking them with his own and swallowing the moan they gifted him.

Together they writhed, kissing like it was the only thing keeping them both alive, and before long their movements grew frantic as they both drew close to their peak. Each time Tobirama turned his head to curse softly that he felt good or that he couldn’t believe this was happening Hashirama dragged him back in for more kisses, desperate, unable to fathom the idea of not kissing this gorgeous creature that he loved so much.

He only realized how close Tobirama was when he began to whimper, hips losing their rhythm and instead grinding upwards almost comically fast. Watching him fall apart was both fascinating and the sexiest thing that Hashirama had ever seen in his life. That might have been a biased opinion but Hashirama couldn’t care less, not when Tobirama closed his eyes and arched his back with a sharp wordless cry, the one leg not trapped against the couch kicking out involuntarily as his muscles spasmed.

Before Hashirama had time to do more than think about pulling away, probably finishing himself off with his hand, Tobirama had caught him around the back of the neck and pull him in for yet another kiss, still bucking frantically against him.

“Shit, please don’t stop,” his sibling whispered against his lips.

Already close to the edge himself, those words alone nearly sent him tumbling over. For whatever reason knowing that Tobirama had a kink for that too-much sensation just after orgasm was a massive turn on and it didn’t take very long before his rhythm began to falter as well. Hashirama spilled in to his own boxers barely more than a minute later and it was hard to tell whether he or Tobirama was shuddering more than the other.

Hashirama felt almost weak in the aftermath of such an intense and unexpected orgasm. A dazed, lazy smile pulled at both corners of his mouth as he nuzzled at Tobirama’s tattooed cheeks and dropped kisses everywhere he could reach.

“You were so good for me, Otouto,” he whispered mindlessly. “Such lovely reactions. And you feel so good against me, better than I could have dreamed.”

“Nngg…” Tobirama’s cheeks flushed deeper than ever but he didn’t pull away so Hashirama counted it as a win.

“I can’t believe this. I just – there aren’t enough words in any language for me to tell you how happy I am right now. That you could ever feel the same…I love you, Tobi. I love you so much.”

He drank in the sight of Tobirama’s shyly lowered gaze and the pleased note in his voice when he mumbled the sentiments back. Then he bit his lip to hold in a breath of fond laughter to see Tobirama crack his jaw on a wide yawn. When he came home he had already been exhausted and ready to pass out; it was no surprise that the exertion of an unexpected orgasm might drain him even more. Already his eyes were drooping to half-mast and his body all but melting where he was still pressed down in to the corner of the loveseat.

Not wanting to be the reason he missed out on any much needed rest, Hashirama leaned over him to dust gentle kisses against his forehead and the tops of his eyelids, whispering sweet nothings in a low murmur that he knew always helped his brother fall asleep quicker. As much as he would love to revel in the discovery of their shared feelings he knew it was something that could wait for later. Tobirama had worked hard over the past year to reach that final exam tomorrow and he would perform much better if he was well-rested. They had all the years ahead of them to celebrate the love they had found. Keeping him awake right now would only be selfish.

It wasn’t an immediate fall. Tobirama stayed awake for several more minutes, though just barely. Just enough to murmur in protest every time Hashirama shifted with the intention of getting up and each murmur came with a denial that he was in any way falling asleep. Despite his insistence, however, he was out like a light before long and Hashirama was able to stand up at last, looking down at the adorable picture he made complete with a naughty little wet patch in the front of his pants.

Carrying Tobirama to bed was bed was easy despite the pain in his wounded foot. Getting the man’s pants off and wiping him clean without looking was harder but Hashirama felt a bit like a creep for wanting to peek, almost like he was ruining a surprise that should be Tobirama’s to give him, so he struggled on until he thought he’d gotten at least most of the mess and slid a pair of pajama bottoms on instead. Then he tucked his brother under the sheets, kissed him goodnight, and retreated downstairs.

The next couple of hours were a strange mix of euphoric high and yearning loneliness. Several times he found himself wandering in the general direction of their bedrooms with the thought that all he wanted was just one more look at his beloved baby brother, maybe to lie down beside him and take a nap as well, but each time he made himself turn around and go find something else to occupy his time. It was a relief when he checked the clock to see it was finally an acceptable hour to start cooking dinner. Setting down the magazine he hadn’t really been reading, Hashirama hobbled off to the kitchen to pull out all the scraps left in their fridge from the last time they’d gone grocery shopping and began throwing it all together for a hearty hotpot.

Nearly an hour later he was confident that the soup wouldn’t take much longer to cook, a perfect time to go wake the sleepyhead upstairs. Hashirama cast about for the wooden spoon he’d been using, wanting to stir their dinner one more time before heading upstairs. As soon as he spotted it, though, it was clear that going anywhere was unnecessary. The kitchen door opened before he could even lift the lid of the pot and Tobirama shuffled in with an odd little pout sticking his lower lip out. Hashirama beamed over his shoulder.

“Welcome back to the world,” he said. Tobirama paused just inside the room with a confused and almost hesitant expression.

“Hello…”

“Is something wrong?”

“No.” Tobirama met his gaze and immediately looked away, uncomfortable. “I just…I think you were in one of my dreams is all.”

Hashirama let one of his eyebrows rise in a suggestive look many thought him incapable of. “Oh? Would you care to tell me what you were dreaming about?”

To his surprise Tobirama shook his head with a wild look in his eyes, as though the very thought nearly made him panic. “I would rather not. Dinner’s ready? I’ll get us some drinks.”

He hurried over to open the fridge and Hashirama absently stirred the soup a few times to give himself something to do while he watched his brother from the corner of one eye. Something was off. Just a few hours ago Tobirama had been perfectly fine but one little dream and suddenly he could barely look in Hashirama’s direction. It was odd. More than that, it was something Hashirama had seen a few times before and never gotten an explanation for until right in this moment as he tapped his spoon on the side of the pot and had an epiphany.

A smile had already returned to his face when he set everything aside and turned around. He waited patiently until Tobirama finished set the table, no longer holding anything breakable in case he dropped something in surprise, then he slid across the linoleum as gracefully as he could and drew a startled Tobirama in to his arms.

“Can I guess what your dream was about it?” he murmured.

“I don’t think you’ll get it,” Tobirama said, visibly unsure what to do with his hands or where to rest his gaze until Hashirama caught his chin and guided their eyes to meeting.

“You’re so precious Otouto. It wasn’t a dream, even if it does still feel a little too good to be true.”

Trying not to laugh at the wide-eyed look of disbelief his brother gave him, Hashirama bent down to press a soft kiss against frozen lips. He pulled back with the intention of teasing the other for thinking that what happened between them earlier had been nothing but a fantasy of the mind, for thinking it hadn’t actually been real, but there wasn’t time for that. Before he could even open his lips he could almost see a switch in Tobirama’s brain flicking on as he realized the truth.

In the next moment he had already pounced. Hashirama squeaked with surprise when he was slammed back against the fridge but it faded in to an appreciative groan as Tobirama all but devoured him, eager kisses that set his blood to boiling, an edge of fierceness in every movement that almost spoke to possessiveness.

He was very okay with that.

“Told you I could guess what you were dreaming about,” he murmured in between kisses. Tobirama grunted and pushed a little closer.

“Evidently I wasn’t dreaming at all so you’re still wrong.”

Hashirama laughed. When his brother’s vicious affections moved down his neck and his mouth was free he asked, “Should we have dinner first? I like where this is going but don’t think I can’t hear your stomach rumbling again. You need food. First I take care of you and then afterwards–”

“Afterwards I take care of you.” The sultry tone left no doubt as to what Tobirama meant with those words. Hashirama shivered and held him a little tighter.

“If you want to,” he breathed.

“Believe me, I’ve wanted many things for a long time now. This is just the start of the list.”

Hashirama whimpered and abruptly shoved his brother away. “Food first.”

Both of them were wearing color high on their cheeks as he snatched the bowls off the table and hurried across the room to dole out two portions of soup. If they ate fast they could both have at least two bowls of good hearty food then shove the leftovers inside the fridge and be upstairs within half an hour. Tobirama wasn’t the only one with a list to work through.